#i hate HATE what they did to Van by giving her cancer and hope it will be somehow changed by the next episodes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesculptedflower · 4 years

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For who could ever learn to love a Penguin

Heyyy friends! I’m back, and I’m feeling truly better. I had a pretty bad episode of seasonal depression, which I should have seen coming, but like every year, it took me by a surprise. But as we get closer and closer to Halloween and Christmas, I get better and better. Thank you all for giving me the time I needed and a shoulder to cry on if I needed it. You guys are truly irreplaceable. I love you.

This one took way longer than it should have, but here it is. I hope you like it.

@kpopgirlbtssvt

For who could ever learn to love a Penguin

You adored your father. He was everything you aspired to be, kind and generous, compassionate and loving. You knew he was always there to protect you and to have your back if you needed help. After your mother passed away, after losing a hard battle with cancer, your relationship with your father grew more and more closer. You were always together, doing things the two of you loved. It was as perfect as it could be. The pain from the loss of your mother was still present, but it was almost okay, you still had each other. That’s why it probably hurt as much as it did when he told you that he would marry this new woman. He told you that Grace was a kind soul that had endured bad things in her past, that she was down-to-earth and deserved another chance in love. Like he did too. It felt bad that he was moving on already, but all you wanted was for him to be happy. So you smiled and promised to welcome her with open arms.

You should have known it was too good to be true. Everything your father told you about Grace turned out to be just one side of the truth. Whenever she was with him, she was loving and acting like a perfect step-mother. But it all turned sour when your father left the room. She was bitter and mean, always ridiculing you about how you dressed or how you acted around her. Of course your father would listen your worries and cries when you told him, but every time, Grace managed to turn his head.

Grace’s two children were the spitting image of her. Spoiled teens who in their minds deserved the world on a golden plate. Sasha and Charles were arrogant and spiteful, always bullying you with all kinds of horrible ways. They would steal all your clothes from your closets and replace them with old dirty rags, or pretend to do something nice and bring you a cup of cocoa, which would turn out to be something disgusting. They all treated you like you were a house maid, and not their step-sister.

Life was tolerable, you tried to focus on the good and spent as much alone time with your father as you could. You were ready to endure what ever treatment you got from your step-mother and step-siblings to keep your father happy. But life had other plans for you.

The funeral was small. Grace refused to invite your fathers old friends from distant towns, having only her family and you present. You were shattered. It felt like nothing mattered anymore, like the damage was too great to fix. The words spoken by the priest never reached your mind, unable to bring any comfort. Grace and her children on the other hand seemed to be fine. Too fine almost. You hated them from the bottom of your soul, but you knew you’d have to live with them for some time. You were in no condition on living on your own now, without anyone to rely on if something happened. You made a promise to yourself to treat Grace like she was air to you, giving her the bare minimum. They were perfectly okay with that. Even pleased that you were spending most of the time alone in your room. You’d just have to deal with this for few years and then you’d be gone. Wrong again.

Elijah Van Dahl, a wealthy socialite who had fallen for Grace. You swore you could see a pattern. You hoped Elijah would see through Grace’s lies and manipulation, but for nothing. He was way too good for her, just like your father had been. In the following few years you learned to know Elijah a lot more. He could never replace your father, but you were starting to think him as a father-figure. He treated you kindly, like you were his own. He stood up for you when Grace or her children spoke ill of you. He nurtured you when you were sick, and always put your wellbeing before his. The place you once called a home, was finally staring to feel like one again.

After you started spending more time out of your room, you noticed how distant Grace had grown from Elijah. He tried to be the best husband he could, getting nothing back from his wife. Sasha and Charles were as ignorant as ever, rolling their eyes behind his back when he tried to be nice towards them. On top of it all, they were spending huge amounts of his money. You could see that it took a toll on him, but he just kept on smiling, trying to keep them happy. He deserved to have people around him that truly loved and appreciated him and everything he does for them.

’’Everyone, I’d like to introduce you my son, Oswald.’’ Elijah said proudly, holding his hand firmly on a shoulder of a young man with raven hair. They were both smiling, though Oswald a little awkwardly. It must have been terrifying to suddenly meet so many new people at once. You weren’t expecting a warm welcome from Grace, so you took it upon yourself to make him feel like home.

’’Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you Oswald.’’ You greeted cheerfully, pulling him to a welcoming hug.

’’Hello, Y/N, the pleasure is all mine.’’ Oswald replied as he wrapped his arms gently around you. You could feel his nerves easing already.

You turned around to introduce Grace, Sasha and Charles, who were clearly very unpleased. They were eyeing him from head to toes, not a hint of a smile on their faces. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

’’Come Oswald, I’ll show you your room.’’ You suggested, glancing towards Elijah for approval. He nodded in return before turning his eyes to his wife. He looked almost angry and you hoped he’d let it out and tell her how to treat his children.

’’I’m so sorry you had to come home to that.’’ You apologized, trying to make Oswald feel better about staying here. ’’If it helps at all, they’ve always been like that. To me too.’’

’’They shouldn’t treat you like that. You seem like a lovely person.’’

You felt your cheeks getting a little rosy, luckily you were a few steps ahead of Oswald.

’’Thank you Oswald, I’m looking forward to get to know you better.’’ You said kindly, glancing over your shoulder to look at him. His smile was genuine and radiated the same kind of warmth your father did when he smiled at you. It felt bittersweet.

You turned the handle to a spare room and opened the door. ’’Here, it’s all yours.’’

You moved aside to let Oswald in. His eyes widened as he admired the spacious room. He placed his bag on the end of the huge bed and sat down next to it.

’’It’s- it’s quite a lot to take in.’’ He sounded a little exhausted. It was easy to understand why. Being pulled to a totally new place with complete strangers around would be hard to anyone.

You smiled softly and took a seat next to him on the bed.

’’You’ll get used to it, I’m sure your father’ll do anything to make you feel like home.’’ You cheered him up.

’’That’s very kind of you to say.’’ Oswald replied, carefully placing his hand on top of yours. ’’Thank you, really, for helping me get adjusted.’’

You nodded with a smile as an answer before standing up.

’’Dinner will be ready in a few moments, I’ll see you downstairs then.’’ You said before leaving him to unpack his things. You didn’t want to be too pushy, even if you already longed to know him better. He was a breeze of fresh air in the house that sometimes felt so stuffy and hostile. He could be someone who you could trust with your heart and soul.

The following weeks went like flying. Oswald opened up more and more everyday, and it didn’t take long for you to grow some very affectionate feelings for him. And he seemed to return those feelings. He was there to comfort you when Sasha and Charles bullied you, and you were there for him. Things got extremely nasty when Grace presented a newspaper to Elijah, with a frontal page of Oswald’s criminal past. She had done everything in her power to get Oswald out of the house. Luckily Elijah was not giving up on Oswald. He had proven he had changed and was perfectly capable of living a proper life, away from crime. Of course Grace wouldn’t believe it. The marriage between the two grew more sour and sour on her end, Elijah still trying to get things to work. You admired how Elijah took Oswald in immediately, how he took you in. You only wished he would for once put his own wellbeing first.

’’May I have a moment with you, son?’’ Elijah asked, peaking his head in to your room. He knew very well what was going between the two of you, even if you tried to hide it from the rest of the family. You could see that he was glad Oswald had someone like you beside him. You had been reading books together on your bed, in a comfortable silence.

’’Of course, I’ll join you in a moment.’’ Oswald said happily. Elijah nodded and retreated to the downstairs parlour.

’’I hope it’s nothing serious.’’ You said quietly. Elijah had some health issues that you worried about. He always assured you that he’d be fine as long as he took his medicine and stayed away fro alcohol. But losing your own father made you even more worried.

’’It’s probably nothing, maybe he just wants to talk. Just for the pleasure of talking. I’ve been pretty cooped with you most of the time.’’ He said with a soft laugh and placed his book on the nightstand. You lowered yours to your lap and searched Oswalds eyes for comfort. You didn’t need to say anything, he was already moving next to you, to hold you close to his chest. You pressed yourself against him, inhaling his scent to calm down. He caressed your head while holding you tight.

’’I just feel really anxious for some reason.’’ You whispered.

’’I know, I can feel it too.’’

You lifted your eyes to look up at him. His features were soft as he gazed down at you. You reached your hand up to his cheek and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

’’Will you sleep here tonight?’’ You asked, already knowing the answer.

’’As always.’’

Oswald pressed a kiss to your forehead before making his way to his father.

Elijah was lounging in front of a softly glowing fireplace. He looked happy. Oswald sat down next to him, the warm glow of the fireplace softening his features. For a moment they both just enjoyed the feeling of being together. Grace brought a beautiful bottle of whiskey to the side table and one glass for Oswald. He thanked her kindly.

’’Son, I want you to know, that you are loved, and you’re not alone.’’ Elijah spoke suddenly. His demeanor was filled with emotion, with unconditional love for his son. Oswald was taken aback, his eyes threatening to water. ’’And the sun will come up tomorrow.’’ He continued, bringing hope for their future together.

’’Thank you father.’’ Oswald almost sobbed, too emotional to hide it anymore.

’’Now I feel like a drink.’’ Elijah said, raising the glass Grace had brought. He filled it up with the amber liquid, savoring the strong scent.

’’But your health?’’ Oswald questioned, a clear worry in his voice.

’’To hell with that.’’

Elijah downed the drink in one go, the liquid pleasantly burning his throat. Oswalds eyes were on his father, looking for any sign of discomfort. But he seemed to be just fine.

’’I want you to have it all my son. This house and everything in it. Just the way it is, a piece of history. Our history. First thing tomorrow, I’ll have my lawyers draw it up.’’

Oswald was amazed. He felt like he belonged here, like he had finally found something to live for after losing his mother. This man he had grown to love so quickly, who took him in when he most needed it, wanted to have him continue his legacy. Oswald was just about to lean in to hug his father, when Elijah face distorted to a painful grimace. Oswald’s face dropped.

Elijah stood up abruptly, holding his stomach. He groaned in pain, his mouth starting to ooze white foam. Oswald stood up to catch him as he started fall, ending up on the floor with him.

’’Father! Father! No!’’ Oswald cried in agony.

Grace rushed to the parlour, Sasha hot on her heels.

’’Elijah!’’ She screamed, ’’Did he drink that?’’ She kept yelling.

Oswald nodded, tears streaming down his face as he held his dying father.

’’But his condition! Sasha, call an ambulance!’’ Grace commanded. Charles had papers behind the side table, worried look on his face.

Oswald was too shocked to notice how Grace motioned Charles to knock the bottle of the table. The liquid sizzled as it hit the carpet, but Oswald was too distraught to care.

’’Y/N!’’ Oswald cried. You were already on your way, running down the halls as fast as you could. You could already hear sirens somewhere on the way. You weren’t ready to face whatever waited you downstairs, but you would be there for Oswald. You’d always be there for him.

After the funeral, the house felt like a prison. Grace had turned you and Oswald to her personal slaves. She had assured you both that you couldn’t make it out there on your own, that you needed to stay at the manor for your own good. You both were too tired, too emotionally strained to fight back, so you did as she told you. You cleaned and cooked, Oswald drove her around the town and made her drinks. Which she almost always spilled, making you work extra.

’’Oswald! Make me an apple martini!’’ Grace screamed from the parlour. You and Oswald were both at the kitchen, preparing for tonights dinner. Grace had ordered a very very complicated meat dish, that required tons of pre-work. You could already see her and her children spitting it out and having you do it all over again.

Oswald sighed and began making the drink.

’’Yes, ma’am! Coming right up!’’ He replied with a fake happy voice. It pained you to see him like that, but at least you had each other. You swiped your forehead with the back of your hand, leaving a smudge of flour behind. Oswald let out a soft laughter, pulling you out of your thoughts.

’’What?’’ You asked confused, looking at him working on the drink. He paused for a moment to help you clean yourself.

’’You have a little something on your forehead.’’ He said with a smile, gripping a towel. He wiped the flour off your head and showed you the now floury cloth. You laughed a little sadly, suddenly realizing how hopeless and unfair your situation really was.

’’I want to leave.’’ You whispered, turning your head down to look at your hands. There was flour and dirt under your nails, little cuts from cleaning up broken glass. Oswald took your hands in his and gently lifted your face towards him.

’’We will leave, as soon as we can. I promise I will get you out of here.’’ He whispered, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was filled with need, it was a promise that the days ahead would be better.

’’Oswald! Where’s the damn drink?’’ Grace’s screaming broke the moment between you, forcing Oswald back to work.

’’Just a moment, it seems I can’t find the olives.’’ Oswald reported back, looking for an excuse. You rolled your eyes, cursing Grace to the deepest hell in your mind. You weren’t usually one for violence, but you were sure Grace had a personal place reserved for her in hell.

’’On the second drawer on the left! You should know that!’’

’’Thank you ma’am, you’re right I should have known.’’ Oswald replied quietly as he opened the said drawer. Grace must have made a mistake, because there surely wasn’t olives. Oswald’s eyes grew wide as he recognized the bottle that laid on the bottom. It was the same bottle Elijah had drinker from on the night he died. Oswald remembered that the bottle fell and the liquid spilled out, but some had remained. It smelled like death. Oswald turned to look at you and lifted the bottle for you to see. It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together and figure out what had happened. You could see Oswald’s eyes turning dark, his whole body growing tense. Just to be sure, he poured some of the liquid on an apple that was left on the counter. As the liquid hit the apple, it turned rotten where ever the poison dripped. You lifted your hand to your mouth, covering your shocked expression.

’’What are we going to do Oswald?’’ You whispered, scared you would get caught. If Grace could poison her own husband, what horrible things could she do to you if she found out. Oswalds knuckles were turning white around the bottle. You hurried next to him and placed your hand over his, forcing his attention on you.

’’Oswald, talk to me.’’ You begged.

Oswalds grip around the bottle eased and his muscles relaxed.

’’I’ll handle this, you will stay out of this.’’ He said, a different tone in his voice. His eyes looked different as he looked at you. You could only nod, afraid for what he was about to do. Oswald finished making the drink and served it to Grace.

’’Dinner will be served in an hour.’’

Oswald had commanded you to stay the rest of the night in your room. You tried to fight back, wanting to help him anyway you could, but he was set. You wouldn’t come out of your room before he told you so. You were feeling more and more anxious by every passing minute. You could smell the roast in the oven, and sometimes hear Oswald moving the pots and pans as he prepared the dinner. Grace was most likely already at the table, waiting fro the moment she could judge the dinner to shreds.

’’Sasha! Charles! Get down here!’’

You heard Grace scream for her children, but you couldn’t hear a reply. In fact, you couldn’t hear anything. No footsteps, no bickering about having to eat something that Oswald had made. It made you awfully uneasy. Something was wrong.

’’Here’s the first piece. I hope it’s not too gamey.’’ Oswald pretended to be courteous, acting like the best butler. Grace took a small bite of the meat, her face revealing her opinion before she even opened her mouth. ’’Overcooked.’’ She said grimly.

’’Try the other, it’s much more tender.’’ Oswald suggested, cutting her a piece. Once again Grace took a bite. ’’It’s the same.’’

Oswald grinned wickedly, standing proudly next to his makings.

’’You look different. Where are the children, ring the bell again.’’ Grace continued, looking at Oswald suspiciously.

’’Oh you noticed! I do my hair differently now.’’ Oswald said cheerfully as Grace kept eating. ’’But I doubt Sasha and Charles will hear it.’’

Grace turned to look at him with a confused look.

’’I found the poisoned bottle, the bottle you used to kill my father.’’

’’What on earth are you talking about?’’ Grace asked, clearly turning anxious. Maybe even scared.

’’You should’ve thrown it away, guess you’re a little too mean to waste a good poison, huh.’’ Oswald said darkly, leaning down closer to Grace. She tried to stand up from her seat, but Oswald was quicker to grab a knife and force her to sit back down. Grace tried to call her children for help. You could hear that too. You were pacing around your room, trying to think about anything else than what was going on down there.

’’They won’t come.’’ Oswald’s grin was turning more and more wicked as he got closer to revealing what he had done to her children. ’’Where are they?’’ She pleaded.

’’You thought they tasted the same, but Sasha, definitely more tender in my opinion.’’ Oswald almost shouted, waving the knife between Grace and the two pieces of meat on the dinner table. Horrified expression on Graces face was bringing joy to Oswald, he was back to his normal wicked self, and he loved it. Grace screamed as Oswald brought the knife down to her chest, multiple times.

You covered your ears and sat down to a corner in your room, furthest from the door. Tears were falling down your cheeks, you didn’t know how to feel. You weren’t scared for yourself, but for Oswald. Could he be good ever again, could he stay on the right side of law for you? Soon the screaming stopped and you could remove your hands from your ears. The quick silence was replaced with footsteps coming closer to your room. You knew it was Oswald but you couldn’t help but feel anxious. The doorknob turned and Oswald stepped in. His face and clothes were covered in blood. You could see that he was exhausted. You stood up slowly and took a few steps closer to him.

’’This is me Y/N, the real me.’’ He said softly, not trying to hide anything. He seemed to be at peace, but a little shameful at the same time. You closed the distance between you and used your sleeve to wipe off some blood on his face.

’’I know.’’ You answered without any fear in your voice. He wasn’t the Oswald you knew anymore, but there were still undeniable feelings. Oswald lifted his hands to your waist and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your hand on his face.

’’I love you.’’ He said quietly, keeping his eyes closed. ’’But can you love a Penguin?’’ He continued with sorrow in his voice.

’’You’re not a Penguin to me. I’ll always love you.’’

#Gotham #gotham series #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #Oswald Cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x you #oswald cobblepot x y/n #The Penguin #the penguin x reader #the penguin x you #the penguin x y/n

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confusednarcissistwrites · 4 years

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Teenage Dirtbag Pt.5 (K.S.)

strap in babies: this is rough one. love you all and hope you are staying safe 💛 enjoy

(cancer, v sad)

The minute the door slammed behind Kyle, you sunk the floor, pulling your knees to your chest and letting out a heavy sigh. No one else made you quite so ferocious in only a matter of moments. Yet, even so, you felt that obnoxious pang of guilt in your stomach for raising your voice at him. You often left confrontational situations feeling guilty; it was merely circumstance that most of the confrontation in your life was with him at that time. At least that’s what you told yourself.

You stood abruptly with a growl, frustrated with yourself. As much as you’d like to sit and rationalize with yourself forever, you knew in the end that the nagging feeling rarely left entirely. Perhaps he was right; you had very consensually slept with him twice with little to no complaint before blowing up on him. You could understand how he might be confused. You came to the conclusion that you had just been set off by his abrupt arrival, and that you’d apologize next time you saw him.

However, the next day, Kyle was absent from the class you shared with him. This was incredibly unusual as it was a criminal justice class he practically led most days, and he rarely missed classes in general. You struggled to pay attention, the guilt in your belly growing and gnawing at you. Was he okay? Had your words affected him more than you realized? What if he did something stupid? Something unthinkable? You were nauseous by the end of class, thinking yourself into a dither. Rationally, you knew he would never, but he’d done more than a few things you’d seen as out of character as of late. As soon as class ended, you spotted one of the boys from his band. Taking a deep breath, you approached him.

“Hey, Tony. Have you seen Kyle today?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

Half baked, he shook his shaggy hair. “Nah, weird huh? Wonder what the little guy’s up to..”

“Mm, thank you,” you replied distractedly, not entirely convinced he was a reliable source. However, you had little else to go off of. You knew you had to make sure he was okay.

Your feet carried you swiftly to your car. Once in your driver’s seat, you found yourself unable to catch your breath. Were you being rational about all this? You really had no reason to be this concerned. Heaven knows he wouldn’t be if the shoe was on the other foot. You let out a long breath, pressing your palms against the steering wheel. Your conscience refused to let you just drop it and drive home.

The drive to his house felt oddly automatic despite how long it had been. Everything looked the same. White picket fences, square, manicured lawns, and housewives sprawled out in lawn chairs drinking sweet tea in the sun: The American Dream. But you knew better. The Scheible home had taught you much about how deceiving the appearance of a home could be. Bright white smiles sometimes hide the most bitter sadness.

You parked next to the curb, noticing an unfamiliar utility van sat in his driveway. Curiosity sparked, you hurried up the steps to the front door and knocked, suddenly feeling a little silly for being there. Too late to turn back now.

Mrs. Scheible answered the door. She flashed you a shiny smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Y/N, sweetie, what a surprise! Is there something I can do for you?” she asked. You could instantly see things were not good. She wore dark, puffy circles under her bloodshot eyes, and her normally manicured hands dry and the polish chipped. She normally invited everyone in without a second thought. Fear clenched your stomach.

“Hi, Darlene,” you smiled. “Is Kyle home?”

“Yes, he is. I’ll go get him for you, okay?”

You nodded, trying to convey as much sympathy for her as you could without saying anything. As she closed the door, your eyes found the van in the driveway again, and it all suddenly clicked into place.

Nurses. For his father.

You felt a bit queasy, feeling even more ridiculous for thinking he could possibly be upset over a squabble with you when he had much more pressing matters going on at home. Your thoughts were interrupted when the door was pulled open again, Kyle stepping out onto the doormat and closing the door behind him. It was as if the family was afraid the tragedy living inside their home would escape through the front door if it was held open too long.

You felt a pang in your chest as you took in the sight of him. It had been less than 24 hours since you’d seen him last, but he looked thinner, a shell of the boy you knew. His eyes looked like his mom’s.

“Hey.” His voice was weak.

“Hi,” you responded dumbly. “I-I, uh- you weren’t until class today. I was just… making sure you were okay?” It came out as more of a question than a statement. You weren’t sure why you were there anymore.

“Ah,” he replied, his arms wrapping around his middle. The silence hung heavy between you, his lack of a response speaking volumes.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, picking at your fingers. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday.”

He blinked at you as if he didn’t remember for a moment. “You had every right to react the way you did,” he responded, shaking his head.

“No, I didn’t,” you sighed, hating how defeated he sounded. “You were right; I was giving you mixed signals and I just can’t expect you to read my mind. I think we… both have some uncertainty about what we’re feeling.” You met his eyes finally, seeing him give you a little nod of agreement. “And I can see you definitely have a lot more serious matters on your plate right now.”

He audibly swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly for a moment. “Yeah,” he choked.

Overcome, you acted on pure instinct, wrapping your arms around his middle and pulling him into a tight hug. He tensed at first, but slowly relaxed, reciprocating your tight grip. You felt a shuddery breath leave his thin frame and could hear him physically fighting not to break down. “It’s okay,” you assured, feeling a knot in your own throat now.

He abruptly pulled back, hands wiping at his eyes harshly. “Thank you,” he breathed, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he stepped back toward the door. You wanted nothing more than to resist him pushing you away, but there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t rescue him from the realities waiting for him inside. You couldn’t ease the pain of losing a father one day at a time. So you just stood there helplessly, watching as he stepped back into his home and closed the door behind him. You weren’t sure how long it was before you finally came back to yourself and returned to your car.

++++++

You didn’t remember much of the drive when you arrived back at your dorm. You felt completely disconnected from everything around you. Walking into your empty dorm felt almost like a relief. You knew exactly what you needed.

You numbly pulled your phone from your pocket, selecting your mom’s contact. She answered after just a few rings.

“Hi, baby! How are you?” she greeted cheerfully.

You felt your throat tighten, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t help but feel so grateful to have her there and healthy and available.

“I, um.. I’m kind of a mess, actually,” you replied, letting out a little sad laugh.

“What’s going on?” she asked, worry filling her voice.

You told her everything. She’d known about Kyle and everything that had happened during the breakup, but everything since then was new. You poured out every anxiety and doubt until you had nothing left to say, and she listened carefully to every word. By the end you were a blubbering mess.

“I just… I don’t know how I’m feeling. I don’t trust that I’m not just wanting to take care of him through this trauma he’s going through,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes with yet another tissue. You had a pretty impressive pile growing beside you at this point.

Your mother was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Honey, you have a big heart. I think that your desire to help Kyle is what drew you two together in the first place. You always wanted to teach him vulnerability.” You listened carefully, her words becoming your gospel as always. “But, I think you know that it’s more than that to you now.”

You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. All the turmoil and heartache; how could you not have seen how much you still cared for him? You had never stopped caring for him. “I’m just scared he doesn’t feel the same. What if he just thinks he needs me right now so he can get through this?”

“Well, you’re going to have to decide if that’s a risk you’re willing to take or not, sweetheart.” Her tone was calm and resolute, convincing you it was really just that simple.

“Okay,” you replied finally, a shaky sigh leaving your tense body.

“I love you bunches. I know you’ll make the right decision, hon.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

You both said your goodbyes and hung up, leaving you a ball of snot and tears. Gathering up your tissues, you thought about all the things she had told you. Though your mind fought to keep up, your heart had really already made its decision. You just prayed you’d make it out in one piece on the other end of all this.

+++++

A few days passed. You found yourself thinking of him almost always. You texted him occasionally to check in, but it was never more. He needed space to be with his family, and you respected that. You just wanted him to know that you were never far if he needed you. It was draining to worry so much about something so far removed from you, but you remembered your mom’s words and prayed you were doing the right thing.

It was very early Sunday morning when he finally called. You quickly sat up, knowing it could only be him calling you at this time.

“Hello?”

His ragged breaths came from the other end of the line.

“Y-N... he’s gone.”

TAGLIST: @londonmademedoit @cathyoliveros10 @chclcmet @isthataladybag @not-ready-to-lose @lilttletimmy @madschalamet @cali4niagirl @kissessforharryyy

#kyle scheible #kyle scheible imagine #kyle scheible x reader #ladybird #ladybird fanfiction #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet series #timotheé chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet series #timothee chalamet x reader #teenage dirtbag #confusednarcissistwrites

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jemfisch · 4 years

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⌠ MASON GOODING, 21, CISMALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, JEREMY “JEM” FISCHMAN II! according to their records, they’re a SECOND YEAR year, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION & “MACGUYVER” SURVIVAL SKILLS AND NAVIGATION; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (old hip hop blaring from headphones, a broken crtv with the cords ripped out and repurposed, the smell of spray paint graffiti, brightly colored shirts with 80s patterns). when it’s the (cancer)’s birthday on 06/23/99, they always request their ICE CREAM SANDWICHES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati, 24, she/her, est ⍀ @gallagherintro

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION

fox mulder (the x files)

hogarth hughes (the iron giant)

will turner (pirates of the carribean)

robin hood

george weasley (harry potter)

aladdin

spike spiegel (cowboy bebop)

mark watney (the martian)

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO

his parents were high school sweethearts and married just before they attended college at harvard together, securing careers at the kennedy space center.

jeremy fischman sr dies under mysterious circumstances in a lab accident and ellen is twenty-eight and left alone to raise baby jem. things only go downhill from here. jeremy was the love of her life and she becomes obsessed with his disappearance and all kinds of conspiracy theories, blows a bunch of her money. it doesn’t take long for her to be fired, savings blown on expensive equipment or sunk into internet hoaxes

they move to a rough neighborhood in gainesville where jem grows up. he likes jem, not jeremy, jeremy is his father. he’s never experienced the perfect life his parents used to live, the white picket fence, the shiny space shuttles. he’s only got this, and honestly, he doesn’t hate it.

the neighborhood’s rough, but there’s a lot of fun characters, and his mom is practically his best friend – aside from his next-door neighbor, NOAH WARD.

jem’s mom does odd hacking jobs from the comfort of their home. some of them are shadier than others, she makes connections with a lot of private investigators in town and looks into people’s cheating husbands and tracks down birth parents and missing people. she does pro bono work too, a kindhearted woman, she can never say no to those in need, even if she’s not so fortunate herself. as jem gets older, he learns everything that he knows from her

every summer vacation growing up, jem and his mom would pack their bags and make home in a camper van, traveling across the country. in some ways, this was great mother-son bonding, but this wasn’t why they did it. his mom never gave up looking for the truth about her husband, but hacking into secure, top-secret government databases is nothing like hacking into the gainesville city hall, it’s hard work, and they travel around the country methodically so that their signal cannot be traced. every summer they get close, but never close enough.

when noah moves away for college, jem stays home. he’s not comfortable leaving his mom.

he keeps up with hacking jobs and keeping up with looking for his dad on the side. he doesn’t think they’ll ever find him, his mom holds out hope but jem is eighteen years old and a bit more jaded now, he figures the guy’s just really dead and well, the conspiracy of it all matters less and less when he knows that either way, he’s still grown up without him.

a lot of jem’s social life is online, whether it’s friends from hacking forums or via soundcloud.

when he’s not hacking, he’s making music. his passions of technology and music mix and he creates his own beats and soundcloud, mashing together songs, and even putting together a popular meme track or two used on tiktok.

it’s actually a bit lucrative, but that’s not why he does it. doesn’t even really use his name, catch him on soundcloud…username? uncutjems.

every time he and his mom get close to finding his dad, there’s just more to do, and it’s almost like someone KNOWS what they’re doing.

jem’s right about that – he is being watched. since noah’s admission to gallagher, recruiters have been aware of the boy who taught her everything she knew.

when gallagher makes the choice to start allowing male students, an agent shows up at his door offering him a once in a lifetime chance at a free education.

jem doesn’t have any strong ambition to go into espionage, per say, but he won’t say no to advanced classes taught by some of the world’s brightest minds – and a chance to reunite with his best friend. however, he hasn’t stopped trying to get into the government’s records and still has ambitions of going into music production.

PERSONALITY.

INTUITIVE. jem has a natural intuition about things and he trusts himself and his own opinions about things. i suppose you could perceive this as confidence, but honestly he’s just really SMART, good at absorbing facts even subconsciously and putting things together about people or situations. in a sense, he has a habit of being correct – he definitely comes off as intelligent, even though his grades in school have never been very good. he just has different priorities.

LOYAL. make a friend out of jem and you have a friend for life, he’ll take your secrets to the grade and he’s pretty trustworthy. he’s the type of guy that gets along with pretty much everyone but he has a few select, close friends because he is somewhat intentional about the company that he keeps. he’s friendly and kind, but he keeps his inner circle of people he trusts close and somewhat exclusive.

PROTECTIVE. kind of has papa bear energy, you know ? maybe the dad friend of your friend group, but in a laid back way, he might not seem like he’s the type to spring into action but call someone close to him a rude name and you’ll see his fist coming at your face. he’s protective but not possessive, i guess is how i would describe it, but i think he gives pretty good advice as well because he’s really hoping the best for ppl.

MALINGERING. jem is kind of a SLACKER! at least, that’s what teachers have called him in the past, he simply does not dream of labor. he’s just kind of doing his own thing, will fake sick to skip a class, whatever else, even though he likes producing music he doesn’t really have a great ambition for anything, spy or otherwise. as long as he has a good computer setup, then he’s fucking chilling.

MOODY. he’s laid back to the umpteenth degree when it comes to work or obligations, but he does have sort of mood swings, i guess he’s the sort of person that you would describe as grumpy at times ? definitely NOT a morning person and when he’s in an off mood, he can be hard to interact with or snap out of.

DISORGANIZED. the sort of person to throw his stuff across the bed or leave piles of clothes on the floor to deal with later, maybe he’s not your favorite roommate for this reason. he has a habit of losing things that he just set down or whatever, things like that.

HEADCANONS.

tbh you can think of him like...beca in pitch perfect ! he’s here bc he was offered a free education and he’s cool with that, but he’d rather be pursuing a future in music. a damn good hacker, though, and the gallagher recruiters are hoping that with some ‘ambition’ he’ll want to work for the government someday.

played baseball throughout middle and high school and he’s fairly athletic – he can get pretty competitive when he plays, it kind of brings out a side in him that most people don’t expect to see because he’s fairly chilled out most of the time

a boss with a slingshot. there is no reason for this, but he had one as a kid and he used to chase squirrels away from the bird feeders outside their home. he has great eyesight and his aim is great, but it’s literally the only weapon he’s proficient in

he’s not tiktok famous for his face, but he has two tiktok famous songs...he’s made like 12k in record deals for selling the rights, it’s just the kind of shit that he does goofing around in music software and he has a good ear for what is going to be catchy

he’s NOT a morning person, definitely a late night kind of guy, will stay up until all hours just fucking around on the computer and then he’ll sleep until 1 or 2pm, at least. getting up for morning classes is a struggle for them and he has slept through them on occasion.

funky sweaters, crazy socks, fun-patterned shirts, he dresses a bit like a circus tent at times, but you can’t say that he doesn’t have style – he dresses well, but it’s like he’s stepped out of a 90s cartoon or something

if he makes u a playlist he either wants to be ur friend so fucking bad or he’s head over heels in love with u

really likes making new things with old technology, he loves taking the macguyver courses and learning new things and he’s actually built his own computer and a lot of his own musical instruments

usually has a couple bandaids because he’s a bit accident prone or can lose his focus when working in the lab. when he gets in his own head while working on a project, he literally cannot hear anything else – sort of selective hearing

likes fucking around with spray paint, if he can, he’s got a bit of an artistic streak and he doodles stickers on sticker paper sometimes. you can probably catch his tag around campus or even stuck to the latops of his close friends, it’s just a little man with a tv for a head.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

HACKING JOBS – if you STILL need a hacker for any of your wild backstory connections, jem is a great bet. he’s been doing paid jobs for people professionally since he could type, and he’s sort of an ace at getting in and out without leaving a trace...and he’s no gossip. so, your secrets would be safe with him.

SMOKING BUDDIES – people that he can smoke up with, talk about life, talk about the bullshit of gallagher, but also people he can laugh with that don’t make him feel stressed or concerned about the future.

MUSIC MAKING BUDDIES – if your character makes music, maybe they can collaborate on something...we’re about to drop the hottest mixtape of all time right here at gallagher academy i will teach myself garageband for this shit...jk but maybe

EX ON BAD TERMS – someone he dated last year...i’m imagining it was their first year and things were really great for the first semester, but shit fell apart second semester along with the school. maybe all the drama on campus caused distance, maybe he wasn’t there for them when they needed it, or maybe they got jealous of the way he always prioritizes noah ? a combination of things, we can hash out the details since i know some of you had some pretty angsty things going on second sem, and maybe it’s awkward now because it feels like there’s unfinished biz.

EX ON GOOD TERMS / LOVERS TO FRIENDS – maybe someone that was a rebound and things didn’t really work and they saw that, maybe he wasn’t over his ex or whatever but they were able to stay friends ? it’s up to you how your muse feels about it but i want an ex that jem also has no hard feels about and actually is maybe sort of protective of them and cares a lot about them finding happiness, they bonded hardcore.

EX-FLING – idk maybe they were hooking up for a while and then one of them started seeing someone else or one of them caught feels so they don’t hook up any more but it was super fun when they did !! also down for it to have been like a summer fling and once the summer ended.

BROS – idk i would like for him to have a squad or something for him to just fuck around with <3 but it’s wholesome and they respect women

ONLINE FRIEND (ANONYMOUS) – he spent a lot of time on forums online and stuff so i’d love for him to have an online friend !! maybe cute if they just know each other by their screen names rn and we can do a bunch of text chats and maybe they both know they go to gallagher but they simply. haven’t met idk

ONLINE FRIENDS – also friends he met online that aren’t anonymous they could’ve met through any number of forums but probably have similar interests like music or hacking so they’re long time homies , someone he’s known almost as long as noah

ONE NIGHT STAND – self explanatory. maybe they’re super good friends and now it’s kind of awkward now and they want to get back to a place of normalcy but it’s simply not normal, maybe they fucked things up by breakin the tension on like. halloween or some shit.

FRIENDZONED – someone jem accidentally friendzoned and maybe he doesn’t even realize it himself but they had a thing for him and he really just didn’t realize it bc he can’t tell unless you spell it out for him.

CLASS RIVALS – someone who tries really hard and cares about class a bunch vs. jem who doesn’t give a fuck but he keeps making the grade without really trying, so they’re ? bitter about it ? and so the two really do not hit it off because of that and they go back and forth , i just rly want a classroom rivalry. maybe even this rivalry and them nagging him actually motivates to try in the class just to piss them off

ENEMY – this person shared a secret with jem and then it somehow got out on the gossip blog idk ! they think jem told and now they hate him.

anything pls let’s chat !

#gallagher:intro

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I can’t believe I updated TWO stories in ONE day! This is a first for me in a long time lol! Sorry for being overly excited. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

Chapter Seven

Zoe no longer winced at needles. After being diagnosed with cancer, she was so used to being pricked and prodded she barely batted an eyelash. As her oncologist drew yet another vial of blood for testing, she sighed softly to herself and gazed upwards at the clock. This appointment was cutting way past her lunch break and in her current state, food was rather important. Particularly when it came to her mood.

"We'll send these down to the lab, but as I said earlier, you're still in remission." Dr. Elliott commented, discarding the needles into the waste container. "Have you felt off at all? I mean, I realize you are pregnant and symptoms can be hard to distinguish sometimes."

"I'm fine." The scientist said with a small smile. "The last thing that sent me vomiting was a block of old cheese I left in the back of the fridge." Absentmindedly, a hand traveled to the small swell of her stomach. "And my obstetrician says the twins look good development wise."

"That's wonderful news!" Her doctor smiled, scribbling something down on her chart. "And their father must be excited as well. You've never brought him in before, I'd quite like to meet him."

Now that made her wince. She envisioned Dracula walking into the cancer ward asking bizarrely specific questions about the various blood bags destined for patient transfusions. Zoe swallowed, mustering up the courage to tell yet another lie in this web of who and what her twins were.

"We aren't together." She said slowly. "It's a complicated situation."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have even brought it up." Dr. Elliott nearly stammered. "It wasn't any of my business. I was merely curious…"

"It's quite alright." Zoe assured her, forcing a smile. "Really, you're not the first. And honestly, it's for the best...all things considered."

"I suppose that's what's important." The oncologist nodded, setting the chart down beside a computer. "Well, that's all I need from you today, Ms. Van Helsing. You know the drill, if you have any concerns or any odd or new symptoms start to arise, please contact me immediately. Especially with you being pregnant, we don't want to take any risks. If your blood results show something, we'll give you a call."

"Okay." The scientist nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

"It was good to see you again, Zoe." Dr. Elliott smiled, reaching for the door handle. "And congratulations again on the little ones. Being a mum is worth all of the troubles."

Zoe smiled but said nothing as the doctor left the room. When the door closed behind her, she inhaled deeply and ran a hand through her hair. Though she meant well, the woman really had no idea what was in store for the scientist. Not that the mother herself had much of a thought either. Rubbing her bump gently, she glanced once more at the clock. Time for work, and what a day, she knew, it'd be.

XXX

"Maybe someone else should go in with him, you know?" Jack suggested, trying to keep up with Zoe's long strides. "With you being pregnant and all? What if he hurts you?"

Hours had passed since Zoe's doctor visit and the sun had finally sunk over the horizon. As they had discussed, Dracula had held up his end of the bargain and voluntarily entered the Jonathan Harker Foundation. The scientist, of course, had yet to catch sight of him, but knew well enough that Dr. Bloxham and some approved escorts-as chosen by both her boss and the lawyer, were waiting patiently in a secure area.

"He's not going to harm me," the scientist assured him. "Trust me, he wouldn't dare."

"You being sure of that doesn't outweigh the risks." The younger man continued to counter. "Zoe, please." He took the woman by the arm causing her to stop in her tracks. "Don't do this."

For the briefest of moments, a small part of her considered the idea of telling Jack. Admitting that the father of her children was not a stranger, but the vampire Count Dracula himself. But she knew doing so right now was in neither of their best interests. She hated being deceptive. Despised it even. Yet she accepted the fact that she must.

"I'll be okay, Jack." Zoe said gently, pulling away from the doctor. "I am more than capable of handling myself. I've done it before. "The scientist gazed towards the closed metal doors that led into the room where the Count sat freely–without any sort of restraints as per agreement, and sighed. "Interesting yes, but dangerous…" She chewed on the inside of her cheek, choosing her next words carefully. "I'm probably safer in there with him than anywhere else."

And without looking back to gauge Jack's reaction, she slid in her key card and entered the sterile space. The room was rather empty in the sense that not much was in it. It sort of reminded her of those interrogation rooms from crime shows. Unlike last time, there was no prison but a simple metal table with some chairs.

Zoe blinked, the bright light somewhat irritating as she took note of the others in the room. Three burly men stood in the back, their eyes fixed on the scientist. Attached to each of their hips was a strange looking device. A stun gun of some sort she figured. But more importantly, there, sitting rather comfortably in the center was the vampire himself.

"Ah, Dr. Van Helsing." Dracula greeted as the woman ventured over, taking a seat. "I was beginning to worry you wouldn't show up and I'd have the misfortune of talking to someone else. Glad to see I can rest easy."

"I apologize if I kept you waiting." She almost had to force the words out. "I was held up with other things. You've been treated well I assume?"

"Well, no one has threatened to burn me into a crisp like last time." The Count smirked, folding his arms over his chest. "I'd say that is an upgrade. Now, enough about me for a moment, Zoe-can I call you that since we'll be working together after all?"

"I suppose…" She muttered, frowning slightly. "...That would be appropriate."

He seemed to smile at this. "If you don't mind me being intrusive, I wanted to ask how your oncology appointment went today. A little birdie told me you had one and considering your condition-congratulations by the way." The way he smiled as he spoke made Zoe's skin crawl. "Well, I thought I'd be polite and ask. We are working together now."

"Fine." She said through clenched teeth. "But you aren't here to discuss me."

"Do something to provoke him. Perhaps he'll make a move and one of the guards will dispose of him properly."

Now standing alongside the three men was the familiar spirit of Agatha. Her blue eyes gave a piercing stare in the vampire's direction. Zoe chewed on her bottom lip, trying not to focus on her late aunt.

"Is everything alright, Zoe?" Dracula asked curiously, snapping the woman out of her trance. "I believe we were on the topic of discussing me rather than you-which is rather unfortunate on my end." His fingers laced together over the table. "I was told you needed another blood sample from me. That the other one went...missing." His tongue briefly darted out as he licked his lips. "I must admit that's rather clumsy on your department's part."

"Yes, well, things happen." Zoe interjected feeling the heat rise up the back of her neck. "But getting another one shouldn't be a problem now will it?"

"Only if you take it yourself." The vampire smirked, chuckling lightly. "You did a good enough job last time...even if it did go missing."

"Serpent." Agatha hissed from her spot in the room.

"We'll be more vigilant this time." The scientist promised with a frown. "That's a guarantee."

XXX

Zoe couldn't help but grimace a little when Dracula slid his nail over his wrist, slicing through his flesh like fresh butter. She could feel his eyes watching her as she carefully collected the sample, handing it off to a tech that had entered the room.

"Open." She commanded, holding a long cotton swab. "I need your saliva."

"Aren't you worried I might bite?" The vampire teased, opening his mouth as the woman threw him a look. "Adventurous, but aren't all Van Helsings." Zoe continued to be silent as she handed off the Q-tip. "How's your pregnancy fairing? From what little I've picked up from my time here, you don't talk to others much about it."

"My private life and work life are separate for a reason." The scientist finally said, taking a step back from the Count. "And I'd like to keep it that way, especially with you. Here." She sat back down in her seat.

"So what exactly do you plan to do with all of the DNA you took from me?" Dracula asked curiously. "I certainly hope not to attempt to replicate me. Though, an army of vampires might be of use to the government. A race of super soldiers the likes of which the world has never seen." He laughed at his pitiful joke.

"As we expressed before with your lawyer, we merely want to understand you. Humanely. And if you keep cooperating like you are now, things will remain easy." Zoe inhaled deeply. "And if you are curious about the results, I would be more than happy to share with you what we learn as we go along."

"Science is fascinating, isn't it?" Dracula mused, his eyes traveling down to the woman's stomach. "Really makes you ponder about the little things in life."

It was as if he wanted to rely to the world who the father to the twins residing in her belly were. The way he pushed at the boundaries of it all. Zoe tried not to tense up as his dark eyes met hers. They were a team now, in more ways than one. And whether she liked it or not, the expecting mother would have to make it work.

"I think we're done here." Zoe said standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Count Dracula."

She turned on her heels as he called out something to her. Whatever it was, it fell on deaf ears. Exhausted, she made her way out of the room. Thankfully, it seemed Jack had already left for the night. The last thing she needed was to go over today's events with him. Some soup, a movie, and a fuzzy blanket sounded like the closest thing one could reach to Heaven as Zoe headed towards her car.

"You seem to be in an awfully big hurry."

Zoe turned around and bit back a groan as Dracula came into sight. Gone were the guards and any sign of human life. Just the scientist and the vampire alone in the parking lot under the dim street lights.

"Go away." She mumbled. "I've had enough of you for one night."

"I did as you asked." The vampire replied simply. "A thank you would suffice."

"No, what you nearly did was give away the fact that I not only tampered with important evidence, but I conceived not one, but two babies with you!" Zoe hissed under her breath. "So I won't be thanking you."

"Ah, hormones, I read they were raging during the second trimester." Dracula commented, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I honestly don't take it personally. When you come to your senses, you'll realize that in the end, you are the one being ridiculous about this."

"Ridicul-"

Suddenly, a sharp pain ignited from Zoe's lower abdomen. The amusement fell from the vampire's face as the scientist let out a sharp yelp and grabbed the spot. Stars flooded Zoe's vision and they weren't from the sky. Someone called out her name, the word sounding distant as darkness began to swallow her up. A pair of arms caught her before she hit the ground and as the world started to fade, the look of horror etched on Dracula's face might have even been comical. If it weren't for the two, fragile little lives within her.

#Dracula 2020 #Dracula #Agatha Van Helsing #Zoe Van Helsing #Zacula #Gemini

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life-observed · 4 years

Text

The Crane Wife

Ten days after I called off my engagement I was supposed to go on a scientific expedition to study the whooping crane on the gulf coast of Texas. Surely, I will cancel this trip, I thought, as I shopped for nylon hiking pants that zipped off at the knee. Surely, a person who calls off a wedding is meant to be sitting sadly at home, reflecting on the enormity of what has transpired and not doing whatever it is I am about to be doing that requires a pair of plastic clogs with drainage holes. Surely, I thought, as I tried on a very large and floppy hat featuring a pull cord that fastened beneath my chin, it would be wrong to even be wearing a hat that looks like this when something in my life has gone so terribly wrong.

Ten days earlier I had cried and I had yelled and I had packed up my dog and driven away from the upstate New York house with two willow trees I had bought with my fiancé.

Ten days later and I didn’t want to do anything I was supposed to do.

I went to Texas to study the whooping crane because I was researching a novel. In my novel there were biologists doing field research about birds and I had no idea what field research actually looked like and so the scientists in my novel draft did things like shuffle around great stacks of papers and frown. The good people of the Earthwatch organization assured me I was welcome on the trip and would get to participate in “real science” during my time on the gulf. But as I waited to be picked up by my team in Corpus Christi, I was nervous—I imagined everyone else would be a scientist or a birder and have daunting binoculars.

The biologist running the trip rolled up in in a large white van with a boat hitch and the words BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES stenciled across the side. Jeff was forty-ish, and wore sunglasses and a backward baseball cap. He had a winter beard and a neon-green cast on his left arm. He’d broken his arm playing hockey with his sons a week before. The first thing Jeff said was, “We’ll head back to camp, but I hope you don’t mind we run by the liquor store first.” I felt more optimistic about my suitability for science.

Not long before I’d called off my engagement it was Christmas.

The woman who was supposed to be my mother-in-law was a wildly talented quilter and made stockings with Beatrix Potter characters on them for every family member. The previous Christmas she had asked me what character I wanted to be (my fiancé was Benjamin Bunny). I agonized over the decision. It felt important, like whichever character I chose would represent my role in this new family. I chose Squirrel Nutkin, a squirrel with a blazing red tail—an epic, adventuresome figure who ultimately loses his tail as the price for his daring and pride.

I arrived in Ohio that Christmas and looked to the banister to see where my squirrel had found his place. Instead, I found a mouse. A mouse in a pink dress and apron. A mouse holding a broom and dustpan, serious about sweeping. A mouse named Hunca Munca. The woman who was supposed to become my mother-in-law said, “I was going to do the squirrel but then I thought, that just isn’t CJ. This is CJ.”

What she was offering was so nice. She was so nice. I thanked her and felt ungrateful for having wanted a stocking, but not this stocking. Who was I to be choosy? To say that this nice thing she was offering wasn’t a thing I wanted?

When I looked at that mouse with her broom, I wondered which one of us was wrong about who I was.

The whooping crane is one of the oldest living bird species on earth. Our expedition was housed at an old fish camp on the Gulf Coast next to the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, where three hundred of the only six hundred whooping cranes left in the world spend their winters. Our trip was a data-collecting expedition to study behavior and gather data about the resources available to the cranes at Aransas.

The ladies bunkhouse was small and smelled woody and the rows of single beds were made up with quilts. Lindsay, the only other scientist, was a grad student in her early twenties from Wisconsin who loved birds so much that when she told you about them she made the shapes of their necks and beaks with her hands—a pantomime of bird life. Jan, another participant, was a retired geophysicist who had worked for oil companies and now taught high school chemistry. Jan was extremely fit and extremely tan and extremely competent. Jan was not a lifelong birder. She was a woman who had spent two years nursing her mother and her best friend through cancer. They had both recently died and she had lost herself in caring for them, she said. She wanted a week to be herself. Not a teacher or a mother or a wife. This trip was the thing she was giving herself after their passing.

At five o’clock there was a knock on the bunk door and a very old man walked in, followed by Jeff.

“Is it time for cocktail hour?” Warren asked.

Warren was an eighty-four-year-old bachelor from Minnesota. He could not do most of the physical activities required by the trip, but had been on ninety-five Earthwatch expeditions, including this one once before.Warren liked birds okay. What Warren really loved was cocktail hour.

When he came for cocktail hour that first night, his thin, silver hair was damp from the shower and he smelled of shampoo. He was wearing a fresh collared shirt and carrying a bottle of impossibly good scotch.

Jeff took in Warren and Jan and me. “This is a weird group,” Jeff said.

“I like it,” Lindsay said.

In the year leading up to calling off my wedding, I often cried or yelled or reasoned or pleaded with my fiancé to tell me that he loved me. To be nice to me. To notice things about how I was living.

One particular time, I had put on a favorite red dress for a wedding. I exploded from the bathroom to show him. He stared at his phone. I wanted him to tell me I looked nice, so I shimmied and squeezed his shoulders and said, “You look nice! Tell me I look nice!” He said, “I told you that you looked nice when you wore that dress last summer. It’s reasonable to assume I still think you look nice in it now.”

Another time he gave me a birthday card with a sticky note inside that said BIRTHDAY. After giving it to me, he explained that because he hadn’t written in it, the card was still in good condition. He took off the sticky and put the unblemished card into our filing cabinet.

I need you to know: I hated that I needed more than this from him. There is nothing more humiliating to me than my own desires. Nothing that makes me hate myself more than being burdensome and less than self-sufficient. I did not want to feel like the kind of nagging woman who might exist in a sit-com.

These were small things, and I told myself it was stupid to feel disappointed by them. I had arrived in my thirties believing that to need things from others made you weak. I think this is true for lots of people but I think it is especially true for women. When men desire things they are “passionate.” When they feel they have not received something they need they are “deprived,” or even “emasculated,” and given permission for all sorts of behavior. But when a woman needs she is needy. She is meant to contain within her own self everything necessary to be happy.

That I wanted someone to articulate that they loved me, that they saw me, was a personal failing and I tried to overcome it.

When I found out that he’d slept with our mutual friend a few weeks after we’d first started seeing each other, he told me we hadn’t officially been dating yet so I shouldn’t mind. I decided he was right. When I found out that he’d kissed another girl on New Year’s Eve months after that, he said that we hadn’t officially discussed monogamy yet, and so I shouldn’t mind. I decided he was right.

I asked to discuss monogamy and, in an effort to be the sort of cool girl who does not have so many inconvenient needs, I said that I didn’t need it. He said he thought we should be monogamous.

Here is what I learned once I began studying whooping cranes: only a small part of studying them has anything to do with the birds. Instead we counted berries. Counted crabs. Measured water salinity. Stood in the mud. Measured the speed of the wind.

It turns out, if you want to save a species, you don’t spend your time staring at the bird you want to save. You look at the things it relies on to live instead. You ask if there is enough to eat and drink. You ask if there is a safe place to sleep. Is there enough here to survive?

Wading through the muck of the Aransas Reserve I understood that every chance for food matters. Every pool of drinkable water matters. Every wolfberry dangling from a twig, in Texas, in January, matters. The difference between sustaining life and not having enough was that small.

If there were a kind of rehab for people ashamed to have needs, maybe this was it. You will go to the gulf. You will count every wolfberry. You will measure the depth of each puddle.

More than once I’d said to my fiancé, How am I supposed to know you love me if you’re never affectionate or say nice things or say that you love me.

He reminded me that he’d said “I love you” once or twice before. Why couldn’t I just know that he did in perpetuity?

I told him this was like us going on a hiking trip and him telling me he had water in his backpack but not ever giving it to me and then wondering why I was still thirsty.

He told me water wasn’t like love, and he was right.

There are worse things than not receiving love. There are sadder stories than this. There are species going extinct, and a planet warming. I told myself: who are you to complain, you with these frivolous extracurricular needs?

On the gulf, I lost myself in the work. I watched the cranes through binoculars and recorded their behavior patterns and I loved their long necks and splashes of red. The cranes looked elegant and ferocious as they contorted their bodies to preen themselves. From the outside, they did not look like a species fighting to survive.

In the mornings we made each other sandwiches and in the evenings we laughed and lent each other fresh socks. We gave each other space in the bathroom. Forgave each other for telling the same stories over and over again. We helped Warren when he had trouble walking. What I am saying is that we took care of each other. What I am saying is we took pleasure in doing so. It’s hard to confess, but the week after I called off my wedding, the week I spent dirty and tired on the gulf, I was happy.

On our way out of the reserve, we often saw wild pigs, black and pink bristly mothers and their young, scurrying through the scrub and rolling in the dust among the cacti. In the van each night, we made bets on how many wild pigs we might see on our drive home.

One night, halfway through the trip, I bet reasonably. We usually saw four, I hoped for five, but I bet three because I figured it was the most that could be expected.

Warren bet wildly, optimistically, too high.

“Twenty pigs,” Warren said. He rested his interlaced fingers on his soft chest.

We laughed and slapped the vinyl van seats at this boldness.

But the thing is, we saw twenty pigs on the drive home that night. And in the thick of our celebrations, I realized how sad it was that I’d bet so low. That I wouldn’t even let myself imagine receiving as much as I’d hoped for.

What I learned to do, in my relationship with my fiancé, was to survive on less. At what should have been the breaking point but wasn’t, I learned that he had cheated on me. The woman he’d been sleeping with was a friend of his I’d initially wanted to be friends with, too, but who did not seem to like me, and who he’d gaslit me into being jealous of, and then gaslit me into feeling crazy for being jealous of.

The full course of the gaslighting took a year, so by the time I truly found out what had happened, the infidelity was already a year in the past.

It was new news to me but old news to my fiancé.

Logically, he said, it doesn’t matter anymore.

It had happened a year ago. Why was I getting worked up over ancient history?

I did the mental gymnastics required.

I convinced myself that I was a logical woman who could consider this information about having been cheated on, about his not wearing a condom, and I could separate it from the current reality of our life together.

Why did I need to know that we’d been monogamous? Why did I need to have and discuss inconvenient feelings about this ancient history?

I would not be a woman who needed these things, I decided.

I would need less. And less.

I got very good at this.

“The Crane Wife” is a story from Japanese folklore. I found a copy in the reserve’s gift shop among the baseball caps and bumper stickers that said GIVE A WHOOP. In the story, there is a crane who tricks a man into thinking she is a woman so she can marry him. She loves him, but knows that he will not love her if she is a crane so she spends every night plucking out all of her feathers with her beak. She hopes that he will not see what she really is: a bird who must be cared for, a bird capable of flight, a creature, with creature needs. Every morning, the crane-wife is exhausted, but she is a woman again. To keep becoming a woman is so much self-erasing work. She never sleeps. She plucks out all her feathers, one by one.

One night on the gulf, we bought a sack of oysters off a passing fishing boat. We’d spent so long on the water that day I felt like I was still bobbing up and down in the current as I sat in my camp chair. We ate the oysters and drank. Jan took the shucking knife away from me because it kept slipping into my palm. Feral cats trolled the shucked shells and pleaded with us for scraps.

Jeff was playing with the sighting scope we used to watch the birds, and I asked, “What are you looking for in the middle of the night?” He gestured me over and when I looked through the sight the moon swam up close.

I think I was afraid that if I called off my wedding I was going to ruin myself. That doing it would disfigure the story of my life in some irredeemable way. I had experienced worse things than this, but none threatened my American understanding of a life as much as a called-off wedding did. What I understood on the other side of my decision, on the gulf, was that there was no such thing as ruining yourself. There are ways to be wounded and ways to survive those wounds, but no one can survive denying their own needs. To be a crane-wife is unsustainable.

I had never seen the moon so up-close before. What struck me most was how battered she looked. How textured and pocked by impacts. There was a whole story written on her face—her face, which from a distance looked perfect.

It’s easy to say that I left my fiancé because he cheated on me. It’s harder to explain the truth. The truth is that I didn’t leave him when I found out. Not even for one night.

I found out about the cheating before we got engaged and I still said yes when he proposed in the park on a day we were meant to be celebrating a job I’d just gotten that morning. Said yes even though I’d told him I was politically opposed to the diamonds he’d convinced me were necessary. Said yes even though he turned our proposal into a joke by making a Bachelor reference and giving me a rose. I am ashamed of all of this.

He hadn’t said one specific thing about me or us during the proposal, and on the long trail walk out of the park I felt robbed of the kind of special declaration I’d hoped a proposal would entail, and, in spite of hating myself for wanting this, hating myself more for fishing for it, I asked him, “Why do you love me? Why do you think we should get married? Really?”

He said he wanted to be with me because I wasn’t annoying or needy. Because I liked beer. Because I was low-maintenance.

I didn’t say anything. A little further down the road he added that he thought I’d make a good mother.

This wasn’t what I hoped he would say. But it was what was being offered. And who was I to want more?

I didn’t leave when he said that the woman he had cheated on me with had told him over the phone that she thought it was unfair that I didn’t want them to be friends anymore, and could they still?

I didn’t leave when he wanted to invite her to our wedding. Or when, after I said she could not come to our wedding, he got frustrated and asked what he was supposed to do when his mother and his friends asked why she wasn’t there.

Reader, I almost married him.

Even now I hear the words as shameful: Thirsty. Needy. The worst things a woman can be. Some days I still tell myself to take what is offered, because if it isn’t enough, it is I who wants too much. I am ashamed to be writing about this instead of writing about the whooping cranes, or literal famines, or any of the truer needs of the world.

But what I want to tell you is that I left my fiancé when it was almost too late. And I tell people the story of being cheated on because that story is simple. People know how it goes. But it’s harder to tell the story of how I convinced myself I didn’t need what was necessary to survive. How I convinced myself it was my lack of needs that made me worthy of love.

After cocktail hour one night, in the cabin’s kitchen, I told Lindsay about how I’d blown up my life the week before. I told her because I’d just received a voice mail saying I could get a partial refund for my high-necked wedding gown. The refund would be partial because they had already made the base of the dress but had not done any of the beadwork yet. They said the pieces of the dress could still be unstitched and used for something else. I had caught them just in time.

I told Lindsay because she was beautiful and kind and patient and loved good things like birds and I wondered what she would say back to me. What would every good person I knew say to me when I told them that the wedding to which they’d RSVP’d was off and that the life I’d been building for three years was going to be unstitched and repurposed?

Lindsay said it was brave not to do a thing just because everyone expected you to do it.

Jeff was sitting outside in front of the cabin with Warren as Lindsay and I talked, tilting the sighting scope so it pointed toward the moon. The screen door was open and I knew he’d heard me, but he never said anything about my confession.

What he did do was let me drive the boat.

The next day it was just him and me and Lindsay on the water. We were cruising fast and loud. “You drive,” Jeff shouted over the motor. Lindsay grinned and nodded. I had never driven a boat before. “What do I do?” I shouted. Jeff shrugged. I took the wheel. We cruised past small islands, families of pink roseate spoonbills, garbage tankers swarmed by seagulls, fields of grass and wolfberries, and I realized it was not that remarkable for a person to understand what another person needed.

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2019/07/16/the-crane-wife/

#CJ Hauser #The crane wife #Essay #story #self #love #relAtionship #break up #grief #marriage #true story #storytelling #paris review #gaslighting

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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Seven, “Meet Me in the Hallway”

New to the story or want to catch up? Find all chapters HERE! :-)

Ok I didnt forget this time :/

* SNEAKYYYYYYYYY PEEK TIME *

“Why’re you annoyed I said that? Is it ‘cause that’s what you want? Did I expose your secret fantasy? ‘Cause ya know you can still go and date him, maybe it’s even easier now that you don’t work for him anymore.”

“Robbie, stop.”

“I can keep a secret. Scout’s honor.”

“No, you can’t! You always say that and it’s never true. And you were never in Boy Scouts,” I scoff, holding onto tufts of his jean jacket.

“I was too! Now, stop avoiding the question. Why won’t you give Harry another chance?” Robbie continues, veering back to the topic I so conveniently changed.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Hmmm, I don’t think I believe you, Ree,” Robbie tsks. “But I’m going to get the truth out of you one of these times.”

P.S - I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors or stuff that should be bolded/italicized that I missed, I already edited this chapter on here a few times and Tumblr kept losing it ugh.

Enjoy!

“I don’t know,” she replies, yanking at the corners of my heart. A sigh escapes my lips when I feel my heavy head fall into my hands. “M-my dad,” Becky continues, but her words collapse into tears before too long.

I almost tell her that I already know, but my lips stop just in time. I don’t want her to get mad at Asher. And if I’m honest, our secret elevator meetings to talk about her are the highlight of my week. But my lips search for something to say. The sound of her tears is all I can hear, no matter how badly I ache to take them away.

“He has c-cancer, Harry,” Becky says, her words tumbling out sloppily. They pull at my heart again, making it fall another notch.

“Fuuuuuuuuck . . . . ’m so sorry, Becks . . . . Are ya okay?”

“No, w-why would I be? How could I be?” she responds, her words falling out fast.

“Becks . . have ya been drinkin’, love?” I ask tentatively, wincing when I hear her groan.

“I don’t wanna ‘ear it. Imma grown woman. I can bloody drink if I want t’ and-,” she argues, her voice steely. I’m caught off guard by the confrontation, and it only makes me feel worse.

“Tha’s not what I meant, love. I jus’ . . . ,” I try, my train of thought fleeing me. All of my thoughts do, because I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t even know if I’d have any better idea of what to say if I’d had notice she was going to call. That she was going to remember who I was for the first time in 9 months. “Are ya atta pub? Cuz I jus’ wanna know yer safe. I can leave an’ give ya a lift home if ya need,” I finish, unsure of how she’ll take my words.

She’s quiet and it only makes the scary thoughts buzz louder in my head.

What if she gets the idea to drive herself home?

What if some drunk bloke bothers her and she can’t fend for herself?

What if she tries to walk home in the rainstorm?

What if she keeps drinking, not knowing when to stop?

What if-

“No, I’m at home. In me bed. I’m not st- dumb, Harry,” she slurs, showing me a side of her I’ve never seen. We’ve had drinks together before - in my office or rarely at a pub. But she never got drunk before.

“I don’ think ya are, bug,” I counter, the nickname falling effortlessly from my tongue. “’m really sorry ‘bout yer dad. D’ya know how bad it ‘s yet?”

“Noooo, other than that ’s somewhere . . . like in uh Stage 2 . . or somefiing,” Becky answers, her words all over the place. “It’s t-the prostate. Ya know that fing that uh . . . is . . where ‘s it ‘gain?” One of her many words that don’t make much sense.

“Ya I know what it ‘s an’ where. I uh have one of ‘em,” I finish for her. I’m rewarded by hearing her decadent laugh. A sound I’ve craved and missed for so long. I missed it more than I thought I had, I realize as a smile pulls my cheeks upwards.

“Oh ya. I uh kinda forgot ‘bout dat,” she titters, encouraging a chuckle from my now smiling lips.

But her laugh fades first and mine follows. Because she didn’t call to laugh at my lame jokes, or to catch up on things we’ve missed in each other's lives. No, not really.

“He’d been ‘aving pains. So bad he can’t eat, or use the uh loo . . He told me when we was there wit’ Robbie and . . . . he looked baaad,” she tells me, her voice catching on the last word. I feel my heart shudder in pain again, and suddenly I realize the validity of the second-hand pain phenomenon. “And I jus’ dunno ‘ow I’m gonna do dis. I wanna help him and take care o’ him . . . But I’m t’ree hours ‘way and . . . I just dunno how t’ do dis.”

“There’s no real setta rules, love. No guideline or brochure fer how t’ handle it . . Ya jus’ gotta do yer best, an’ love him . . ‘m sorry,” I tell her, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re sorry?” she laughs, pulling my eyebrows into a knot. “Tha’s a firssssst.”

I listen to her laugh some more, savoring it. But I’m also confused and a little offended. But then it stops abruptly and I hear her sniffle. “I’m the one whoooo should be sorry,” she begins, tears lacing into her words. And taking all of mine with them. “You’re just trynaaaa help, and I’m bein’ mean and rude just like I always am to ya. Ughhhh, I dunno why I even called.”

“No, ‘s okay. Yer goin’ thru a lot an’ . . . I appreciate ya callin’. I jus’ hope ‘m helpin’,” I say quickly, dropping a hand in defeat. It finds its way to my pants and I pick at the loose thread that’s been bothering me all day.

“But I am, Harry! I’m mean and I make no sense a-and I’m jus’ loadin’ onto ya. But I dunno who else t’ call, cuz ’m tryna t’ be strong forrrrr Robbie. And not worry Skye, an’ I jus’ dunno what t’ do, Harry,” Becky says, the last of her words dissolving into sobs. Biting my lip at the sound of her crying into my ear, I keep biting and biting as she cries. I yank at the thread and feel it dig into my skin, but I don’t let go. “I don’t wanna lose me dad afta I already lost you.”

It takes a few seconds of telling myself, but I slowly release my bottom lip. I huff, swiping my tongue across my lips. I taste the metally blood coming from the stinging cut. And then the warm taste of salt joins it on my tongue. Pressing my lips together, the pain only intensifies. But I let it stay as tears roll down my cheek. My finger burns, but only for a few short seconds when I finally rip the thread from my pants. It doesn’t compare to the pain I feel inside of my chest, like a vice around my heart. Tightening and throbbing.

The line grows silent, but I know she’s there. Because I hear her shallow breathing, and the occasional sniffle. And I know that she’s still crying, because I hear the whimpers that she tries to hide. Even if she is drunk. And the pain only keeps coming, because I hate that I can’t do anything to stop hers. Nothing at all.

“I miss ya so much, Becks,” I whisper, not believing the words coming from my mouth. But they feel good. Freeing. Almost exciting.

“I . . . I do too, b-but I can’t go down that road ‘gain, Harry. I- I can’t do this,” she rushes. I hear noises on her line, but I can’t get out the words before the it goes dead. Silence.

I feel my phone slide from my hands slick with tears. It falls to the floor with a thud, but I hardly hear it. Because her voice is drowning out the sounds of everything else.

The thunder.

The rain falling harder by every second.

I press the pads of my fingers into my eyes and let my own rain fall. My fingers grow wet with every tear. Every single one I held in as her voice graced my ears. The tears that grew from the pain I heard in her voice. From when I heard about her dad’s diagnosis. And I think the ones I’ve been pushing away for a long time.

The rain welcomes a friend, and I join the drops drilling against the glass until the storm passes. But I know that although the storm inside of me passed for a little while, that it’s only come back stronger. The velvety sofa cushions and pillow welcome my tired body. I fall into a fitful sleep with her comforting voice dancing through my head. The only place I can see her again, and where I didn’t fuck everything up.

“Don’t worry, Becky. We’ll get this all figured out. You just do your best and take care of yourself and your father. Keep me updated on what you learn, and if you need extensions. Alright?”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” I reply emphatically.

He nods before patting my arm and telling me to have a good day. I return it before leaving his office and feeling the slightest weight leave my shoulders. That was the easy part, I think to myself as I find my way through the twisty halls.

Looping my arm through my other backpack strap, I turn a corner and keep walking. I feel my heartbeat start to slow down after that nervous meeting with Professor Alcott, finishing up my afternoon of meeting with my professors. I couldn’t even believe the words leaving my mouth to grace their ears.

My dad was diagnosed with Stage 2 prostate cancer recently. We still don’t know a lot, but I wanted to let you know. I plan to still stay enrolled in the program and I’m committed to my courses. At the same time, I’m going to do what I can to take care of him. I will keep you updated as I learn more, but there are still a lot of unknowns at this point and . . . , I think, pausing the track I had on repeat for the last few hours. I had to figure out what to say, then rehearse it, and then say all of those words to the stern-looking expressions of my professors. Two of whom I’ve never even met before, because I’m taking their classes online. But my advisor, Sally, told me it would be best to meet with them in person. It’s more personal and shows your commitment blah blah, she said.

I’m just glad to have that part over with, I sigh inwardly.

The first fallen leaves of Fall crunch under my lace up purple Vans. The crisp air welcomes me. For a few seconds, I lose myself in the beginnings of the changing colors of Autumn. But the incessant worrying thoughts that have plagued my mind sit at the back, ready to pounce. I was rather numb for the first several days. I didn’t know how to function normally. Let alone inform my professors professionally and in person about the events that just rocked my life. I’m relieved that they were all very accommodating and kind to me about the news. But I know that the hard work is just about to begin.

A U2 song pours from my speakers as I back out of my parking space and start my journey home. I try to lose myself in the beloved lyrics, but it’s hard. When they become too relatable and too nostalgic, I skip it and the stereo player whirs as it thinks. My Spotify chooses a song at random - a favorite by Vance Joy. I roll my windows down and try to sing along.

I close my apartment door with my foot, sifting through the mail.

A bill. An advert for Skye. Another bill. Another cosmetology advert for Skye. An advert from my uni. Something Skye ordered from Amazon. A random magazine subscription that I most definitely don’t want to subscribe to. A sheet of Domino’s coupons. And a square periwinkle envelope with my name scrawled across the front. No return address.

My feet stop in the middle of toeing off my shoes. The one falls to the floor with an echoing thud. I swallow and pad slowly over to the kitchen island. Pushing Skye’s mess over, I let the pile of mail fall with a slap. With one shoe still on, I soon find myself sitting on the arm of the sofa. Backpack still heavy on my shoulders. Keys still hanging around my finger. But all I can focus on is the periwinkle envelope in my hands. And that familiar handwriting.

I hug it to my chest and tap my fingers along it as I think.

I know what it feels like, but I don’t know if I want to open it.

Because I know what will happen if I do.

But I can’t deny the first bubbles of excitement rising in my chest.

The first feelings of happiness I’ve felt in 11 days.

11 days since my dad announced that he has cancer. The dreaded C word.

My thumb does the first rip without me barely registering it. My excited heartbeat eggs me on. I try to rip it neatly, and leave the pretty envelope intact. But I’ve never been good at opening mail neatly. It’s just too exciting. I see the cursive word on the back first. The card company’s name.

The card is a periwinkle purple, like the envelope. He remembered it’s my favorite. My eyes fall closed without warning when I feel the hard square inside of the card. A sigh escapes my lips. It only grows longer when I feel the tiny imprints the pen left from pressing down hard in the author’s hand.

Exhaling slowly, I flip the card over and find a saying that I glance over. The cursive words made permanent by gold lettering tug at my heart. But I know that’s only the beginning. My finger pries at the opening and runs along the inside, feeling the bumpy impressions of the ink words. I rip the bandaid off and open it. But before I read anything, I grab a hold of the plastic square. I place it behind the card in my grip.

One step at a time.

The inside of the card is painted with sloppy black writing. At the sight of it, I watch my sight grow hazy. Starting at the beginning, I blink and feel the first tear fall when I see my name.

Harry’s name for me.

Dear Becks,

I saw this card and thought of you. The little bunny on the front just screamed your name, and well it harassed me during my whole shopping trip to buy it. Isn’t it just adorable? It made me think of the story you told me once about the baby bunny you found with your dad that was hurt. You both nursed it back to health before it hopped away back into the woods. Or your Dad called the animal services to take it to rehabilitate it. You said you couldn’t remember. Anyways, it made me think of you and the unimaginable pain you’re going through. You and your family. I never had the pleasure to meet your Dad but I wanted to extend my sympathies. He must be a pretty incredible man seeing how well you and Robbie turned out. You always spoke fondly of him. I know you’re very close to him, and because of that I know this is even harder for you. I’m so sorry. I’ve been thinking of you and your family often, and wishing there was something I could do to help. I’m so sorry, Becks. I really am. I don’t think there’s much else I can say to comfort you right now, or if there is I don’t know what it is. I’d just suggest doing what you can to be with your father during this time, and although it may be difficult to see him in pain, I think you’d be happy if you were there. No matter how things turn out, I think it would mean a lot to the both of you. I’ve experienced grandparents and loved ones passing, and it’s the shits but whoever said that it’s better to suffer together than by yourself was right. But please take care of yourself too. I don’t know what your plans are, but please don’t load your plate too full. Okay? I’m sorry, but you won’t be much help to your Dad if you’re giving yourself too much work. I’m so sorry that this is happening to you, Becks. It pains me more than you could know to know that you’re going through this. You and your family will be in my thoughts and prayers during this difficult time. Please let them know that. Take care of yourself, please. For you and your dad. If there is anything at all I can do to help please don’t be afraid to let me know. In the meantime, I hope that this Visa gift card will help. I recall you said you’re from Madley and your dad still lives there, which is quite the trip. I hope this money will help pay for petrol, meals, hospital bills, and anything else that may help make you and your dad comfortable. Myles’ brother who’s a doctor knows of some good docs at The Royal London Hospital where he works - if you’re interested, just give him a ring. I’ll be praying for a hopeful diagnosis and outlook for your dad, and that he recovers from this. I hope you’re hanging in there, Becks. Just take it one day at a time.

Harry xxxxx

My chest shakes with a sob as I breathe in, but it’s so hard. And it hurts. Closing the card, I cover my face with it. And feel the warm tears paint my cheeks. I don’t know where they come from or how I haven’t ran out of them yet, but they keep coming. Without knowing it, I find myself sliding off the sofa and down onto the floor to rest against the sofa. Ugly sounds leave my lips and my body shakes with each sob. For the first time in days, there’s a feeling inside of me stronger than sadness for my dad.

Longing.

Missing.

I miss Harry. And I let myself feel all of it. Like I haven’t been letting myself for months. I forgot how much I missed him.

The way he could make me laugh.

How he always knew what to say without worrying it being the right thing.

His sunshine smile.

His molasses like voice - deep, rich, and syrupy sweet.

And most of all, the way his hugs fixed me like a bandaid. I feel my heart wrench with everything I miss, but it especially hurts when I think about how much I miss his hugs. And how badly I crave one right now. No, I need one.

I cry harder at that, because apparently things can get worse right now, I think inside the chaos that is my mind.

I miss my dad, even though I saw him yesterday when I went back home. And then I miss Harry, even though I kicked him out of my life. Even though I heard his molasses voice the other day when I mistakenly called him after drinking a bottle of wine.

I miss him so much and it hurts.

I didn’t know that I could even hurt more than I already was.

And I wouldn’t have guessed that his card warms my heart, and breaks it at the same time.

My thumb wavers over the keyboard of letters, indecisive and lost. I groan and walk away, padding out of the room and into our main living area.

“You better be getting a snack since you didn’t eat dinner,” Skye calls out to me from her perch on the sofa.

“Okay, Mom,” I retort, searching the shelves of the fridge. It sounds bad, but it only took Skye a major life event to do a decent job at grocery shopping, I recount. Grabbing a yogurt from the drawer, an apple, and a spoon from others, I leave with my dinner in hand.

The food falls to my desk with a clatter as my attention diverts to my phone. Waking it back up, I see the words I had typed out before. Without another thought, I press Send. With wide eyes and a shaky hand, I lay my phone face down away from me. I’ve only gotten settled and read a few lines from my textbook when my phone chimes. With teenage jittery excitement, I stare at it for a few seconds before daring to pick it up. My heart does a somersault in my chest at the sight of the name.

Harry.

I read over my text first, and then read his.

Hi. I can’t thank you enough for the incredibly sweet card. The gift card was more than generous. I don’t know which I cried more at. Just THANK YOU. A lot. I don’t know how many times I can say that. It was so kind of you to think of me and my dad.

Harry

hi! stop it youre more than welcome. im glad you liked the card. i wasnt sure if it was 2 dorky. u better not have cried at it. im here if u need anything. have a good night xxxx

My thumbs dance around on the screen. But before long, I set it down and try to immerse myself in my textbook. But it’s hard, because all I can do is think about him and our texts. I was texting him and we were talking, my over excited teenage-like mind thinks. But the adult part of it sweeps it under the rug, or tries to. Those two parts fight each other as I struggle to make sense of the chapter I’m reading. Because the teenage girl side wants to text him back, but the adult side argues there’s nothing to say. And that won’t I just get hurt again? I find myself nodding at that. Or more so, the argument it makes about there being no point in it. But the teenaged side reads into his words and grows excited at some of them. Talk about distracting.

“Oh my god, just stop!” I mutter aloud, covering my ears but it doesn’t work. Groaning, I flip the page and read on.

He helped and his card stands on my desk now, but I need to focus on my dad. And school. And this fricken boring chapter that I have an upcoming quiz on.

Voices carry down the tiled hallways. The sounds of footsteps sound like ghosts around me. So do the memories I have of these halls. Ones that stab at my insides as I walk further into them. I turn a corner and find the light at the end of the tunnel. He senses me and looks up. He shows a small smile as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s continued to ignore the the circle of chairs in the waiting area. Instead, he leans against the wall nearby the door we’ve been staring at.

“Is he done with his labs yet?”

He shakes his head no, narrowing his eyes at me. “You said you weren’t going to go and cry in the bathroom, you liar,” Robbie jokes, but I don’t laugh. He purses his lips and holds his arm out for me.

I walk into them and rest my head on his chest. “Yeah well, you tell everybody that you’re the older twin when you’re not,” I quip with a sniffle. A laugh rumbles underneath my cheek.

“That’s ‘cause I am.”

“No, you’re not. Dad only said that when we got in fights to make you feel better,” I reply, closing my eyes and listening to his heartbeat. For some reason, his hugs never fail to calm me down. After a fight we had whether we were 5 or 15, when I snuck into his bed at night when mom and dad were fighting, after a pet died, even after a bad day at school, and especially lately with dad’s diagnosis. It only strengthens my belief about the whole twin thing.

He scoffs in reply and my lips find a laugh. “I want to see our birth certificates and settle this once and for all.”

I giggle into his warm chest and close my eyes. But then the thoughts and not longer after, the tears arrive. Robbie squeezes me and tickles my back with his fingers.

“They sounded hopeful at least,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, but they want to do chemo before and after surgery.”

“I know, but they said they have to be sure. If things look good when they’re doing the surgery, like clean margins or whatever it was, then he might not need chemo afterwards,” Robbie points out and I nod, feeling the damp spots on his shirt from my tears.

“He seems like he’s holding it all together pretty well.”

“Yeah he’s always had super strength. Remember in primary when we wrote that dad was our hero-.”

“And mom got mad,” I finish for him, adding my laughter to his.

“Yeah. And even though we made that superhero poster about him, I never stopped seeing him as a superhero,” Robbie says, slowly trailing off when the emotions steal his words.

“Bee, stop, you’re gonna make me cry even more.”

He laughs for a second, but then I hear him start to cry. His chest trembles underneath me. I give up and cry with him.

“Harry sent me a card in the mail,” I sob, hiccuping in between words.

“He did? I always knew I liked that guy. What’d it say?”

Something half-scoff and half-laugh is my response before I take a big breath. “I don’t know, it was just so sweet and kind. He said that he’s thinking of all of us, and told me to take care of myself. He said he knows it’s hard to see people you love suffering, but that it’s better to suffer together than on your own,” I choke out, tears drowning my words. “The card had a bunny on it. He said he got it because I told him the story of how Dad and I saved that hurt bunny. I wish he could’ve met dad when I still worked there . . And he sent a $150 Visa gift card to use for bills, petrol, and food.”

“Wow, that’s crazy generous. Wait, what? You two didn’t save it, the animal control people did,” Robbie argues and I just shake my head. “And don’t say it like that. Dad’s too stubborn to die, you know that. And with how much you talk about Harry, I’m sure you guys are gonna get coffee one day and fall in love and get married,” he continues, his voice quickly turning mocking and girly. I laugh and shove him, stepping away with a laugh.

“What?” he laughs. His voice is still under water, as is mine. “Why’re you annoyed I said that? Is it ‘cause that’s what you want? Did I expose your secret fantasy? ‘Cause ya know you can still go and date him, maybe it’s even easier now that you don’t work for him anymore.”

“Robbie, stop,” I reply, laughing with emotions fighting in my voice.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling me into his arms once again. “Ya know you can tell me. I can keep a secret. Scout’s honor.”

“No, you can’t! You always say that and it’s never true. You blabbed to the whole 1st grade I had a crush on Johnny Turner. Then, when I gave you a second chance, you did the same thing again in 8th grade with Willie. And you were never in Boy Scouts,” I scoff, holding onto tufts of his jean jacket.

“I was too!”

“Being it for one week and quitting because you went home in the middle of the first camp doesn’t count!”

“I still think it does. I have the outfit, sash, hat, and everything still. I made dad proud, and you know it. Now, stop avoiding the question. Why won’t you give Harry another chance?” Robbie continues, veering back to the topic I so conveniently changed.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Hmmm, I don’t think I believe you, Ree,” Robbie tsks, his scratchy chin resting on top of my head. We hear the click of a door open, and I frantically wipe my eyes. “But I’m going to get the truth out of you one of these times.”

I roll my eyes at Robbie as I peer up at him. He winks before sloppily kissing my head.

“Come on, you rascals. Let’s get outta here before they try to poke me with any more needles,” our dad says, walking out of the room with his jacket folded over his arms.

I know he knows we’ve been crying, but he doesn’t mention it. I think another secret language is already starting to form between us. With Robbie’s arm around my shoulder, I grab hold of my dad’s hand. He turns to flash a tired smile at me, before placing a kiss on my forehead.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” he hums quietly as we stop in front of an elevator. His smile tugs at my heart. I’m just thankful to be able to still see it.

Stepping onto the elevator, he squeezes my hand hard, just like he always has done. “Dad, don’t!” I yelp and he chuckles under his breath.

After pressing the button for the lobby, I see Robbie’s lips bend upwards. This can’t be good. “Hey, dad, when we get home can you pull out our birth certs? I need to know the truth of who’s really the older twin.”

“Oh god. You two are 25 years old, when is this going to be over?!” my dad huffs, rubbing at his eyes, but with a smile. “Maybe I won’t take you with the next time, since it’s giving you existential crises,” he threatens, and we all fall into easy laughter.

“I’m gonna have an existential crisis if I found out you’ve been lying to me for my whole life,” Robbie exclaims and we all only laugh harder.

My backpack and coat fall to the floor with a heavy thud. With a yawn, I bend over to grab my things. The sound of chattering surrounds me. It slowly grows in volume as I sit there tiredly with my head down. I hear footsteps, laughs, and the scuffling of moved objects.

“Wake up!” a voice nudges at me. I groan angrily in response and hear laughter in response. I peek through a crack in my arm to find Ruby’s crazy red hair bobbing next to me. My newest friend from Criminology. “Just ‘cause we have a guest speaker today, doesn’t mean you can sleep.”

“Oh, that’s today?” I reply excitedly, returning to the warm cocoon of my arms.

“Yeah, but we still have to take notes. Ya know like last Wednesday when we had our first guest speaker? We had to write down questions for them, even if we don’t end up asking them. Alcott just wants us to get thinking and to well, pay attention. And not fall asleep like somebody! And then we have to write down 8 things that interested us, so get unpacking,” Ruby replies, her chipper voice drilling into my ears.

“Noooooo,” I moan, scrunching my face in secret.

I hear the door to the lecture hall close with a loud bang and Alcott laughs. “Alright, you lot, look alive. Our guest speaker has arrived and is ready to dazzle you this rainy Wednesday morning. Remember to be working on your page of ‘Ahas’ whilst he’s speaking. You’ll be passing it in at the end of class which is in 50 minutes,” Alcott announces. His Southern accent coming out in a few of his words.

“Shitttttt. I think I might like this guest speaker. Look at him, Becky. He is fineeeeeee,” Ruby whispers, elbowing me hard in the arm.

With a whimper, I sit up with a secret stretch. Combing my hair back, I rub at one of my eyes as they both struggle to focus.

“What, who’s fine? What’s fine?” another voice blurts out. I squint and look over to find Simon taking the seat on the other side of me. The little Criminology trio back together again.

“Not you being tardy, that’s not fine,” Ruby retorts with a smirk in her voice. I can’t help but smile. Simon flashes one at me as he combs a hand through his sandy hair after digging in his backpack.

“So without further ado, I’d like to introduce our guest speaker today. Harry Styles from Styles and Lawson. Let’s welcome Mr. Styles with open arms and give him our undivided attention, please.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumble under my breath, coaxing a confused ‘what’ from Ruby and Simon’s lips .

“Hullo, class. My name ‘s Harry Styles, but ya can call me Harry. Ummmmm as Professor Alcott said, ‘m from tha London law firm Styles and Lawson. Me mate, Myles Lawson, makes up tha otha half o’ tha firm. This year it’ll be 5 years since we started tha firm togetha, which ‘s bloody crazy t’ me. Before, it was his dad’s firm, and long story short, Myles an’ I got togetha an’ here we are. Anyways, I make me rounds in London talkin’ t’ law classes. I’ve always enjoyed speakin’ t’ tha incomin’ lawyers an’ tellin’ some o’ me stories. An’ me favorite part - answerin’ questions. I thought ‘d start with how I got into law, tho’.”

Shit. I really should’ve known this would happen.

“Nothing,” I reply. “J-just hand me a piece of paper and a pencil, please,” I say briskly to Ruby.

The last thing I want is to make a single sound that will bring attention to me. But it seems like the universe doesn’t really care lately what I want. I’m already trying to figure out my odds of him spotting me in the sea of 50-so students. Amongst 35 or so ogling girls. Typical.

But the more my eyes focus and my ears attune themselves, I lose myself. I knew it wasn’t a dream when I heard the first word from his mouth. I’d know that voice anywhere. But when my eyes finally focus on the towering figure standing at the front of the room, my eyes struggle. Gone are his long curly locks, and replacing them is a short and curly quiff. I try to ignore the somersaults my insides are doing, but it’s terribly difficult.

Taking a deep breath, I savor listening to the words fall from those smiling cherry lips. In that slow, calming voice. Never being able to remain in one place, he paces around the front of the room slowly. Clad in a gray suit with a black button down, I slowly melt next to Ruby. Who from her choice of words, is doing about the same. Just in a less graphically described way than her. I can’t blame her, because somehow he has only gotten more handsome over the last year.

“Isn’t he just so nice to look at?” she croons.

“Oh yes,” I reply without thinking, and she sighs happily.

Simon groans in disgust, shaking his head. I see him out of the corner of my eye playing with the lead in his pencil. He tries to take it out in one piece before putting it back in. Rinse and repeat.

I bite my lip and somehow tear my eyes away and to the paper sitting in front of me. I scribble my name across the top. Numbering my page, I write down the first ‘aha’ I have.

1. Renowned lawyer with his own firm at 28. Almost unheard of.

Tapping the pencil absently at my thigh, I return my attention to the front. Playing with the rings donning his hands, Harry continues with the story of how he came to be a lawyer. One I can’t say I’ve heard before. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he starts to walk again. Changing his focus from somebody in the front row, it suddenly floats up.

And lands on me.

Not only am I surprised, but so is he. The pencil between my fingers halts and altogether falls from my fingers. He stops mid sentence when his eyes lock with mine. My insides grow bubbly as a sparkle gleams in his eyes. I watch a grin unfold on his lips before he composes himself.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “I-I’m sorry, can somebody uh remind me what I was sayin’?”

Nervously, he combs a hand through his hair. Laughing, he thanks an eager girl in the front row when she reminds him. And soon enough, he’s back on track with a new nervousness to his voice, or excitement. I’m not sure which. And his eyes trail back to me after a few words, making a smile tickle at my lips.

Although hard, I look away and pretend to think of something to write. Feeling another pair of eyes on me, I look over and find Ruby’s hot on my cheek. I shrug at her jealous look and she just shakes her head. I laugh under my breath and she kicks me under the table.

I lose myself in Harry’s words for the rest of his talk, his maple syrupy voice like music to my ears.

He talks about starting his law firm with Myles.

Some of his favorite cases.

His first case.

His worst case.

His hardest case.

And then he goes on to answer questions. Ruby and I aren’t the only ones fawning over him, because most of the class is as well. Some girls are really flirting it up with Harry. He just relishes in the flattery, to no surprise. I try not to notice the few times he peeks at me when he looks for somebody to call on with a question.

“Why does he keep looking at you?” Ruby whispers to me as I write down another ‘aha.’ Some random takeaway from another story of his.

“How am I supposed to know?” I reply, twiddling with my pencil when I’m done. “Why don’t you ask him a question already? I can see the ants in your pants, Rube.”

“I don’t know, I think her question would be if he was single,” Simon jokes, garnering a few curse words from Ruby. I quietly laugh between their hushed argument.

“Well, ‘m gettin’ tha eye from Alcott, so I reckon that my time’s up with you lot. Thanks fer havin’ me an’ hopefully I wasn’t too boring t’ listen to,” Harry concludes at the front of the lecture hall.

I pretend I don’t hear Simon’s griping next to me. I can’t help but smile as I slide my backpack onto my shoulders.

“Not so fast, everybody. What do we say to Mr. Styles for speaking to our class today?” Professor Alcott pipes up. I join in on the class-wide thank you as I hand Ruby her pencil back.

“I bet you’ll be awake and ready for Wednesday lectures from now on,” she says, winking at me.

I roll my eyes with a grin as I start down the steps beside her. “Like you’re any better. I saw you both drooling from the corner of my eye,” Simon remarks.

“Maybe,” I say quietly, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my pullover quarter zip. The last syllable falls from my lips as my eyes pan over to find his head of dark curls.

Nearly at the uppermost row, my view wasn’t the best. As I near closer to him, his features sharpen and with the realization, my heart squeezes in my chest. Light stubble coats his dimpled cheeks as he smiles talking to a classmate of mine.

I’m only a few footsteps from the bottom now, following the slow line of people who are leaving. The angel and demon, for lack of better words, argue inside of my head. Should I go and say hi?

Yeah, why not?

No, why would you?

It would be rude if you didn’t.

It would be weird if you did.

But there are a handful of girls around him probably already flirting with him.

With an indecisive sigh, I clench my fists inside of my pockets. The two opposites inside of me clash, and I truly have no idea what to do. His card the other day was so kind and thoughtful. But I was a bitch the last time I saw him. I can’t believe it’ll be a year in two short months since I quit. Wow.

“I dunno why they’re bothering, it looks like he’s taken,” Simon snickers, earning a flick on the head from Ruby. “Don’t be a bitch just because I pointed out the truth. Can’t shoot the bloody messenger, Rube.”

I don’t intervene when Ruby chases after Simon to the door. Suddenly my feet stop around the corner from the stairs. Only a few more steps and he’d be out of my sight.

Again.

For who knows how long until next time.

I can’t take my eyes off of him. He really looks like he’s enjoying himself talking to law students. Up close, he really has grown more handsome over the last 11 months. I never thought that could be possible. Smiles crease his cheeks.And light up his eyes.

But when his left hand habitually goes to fix his quiff of curls, I see the gold ring Simon saw. He wore rings, but never that one. It’s like my heart is brought up from the bottom of the lake where it’s been, and takes another nose dive back down.

“Becky!” somebody calls for me. I blink and almost think it’s him. But when I look around for the culprit, I find Simon walking up to me.

I find it hard to squash the disappointment weighing inside of me. That it’s not Harry.

“Sorry, Si. W-what’d you say?” I reply, tearing my eyes away from Harry.

“Don’t look so sad he’s taken,” Si jokes quietly, putting an arm around me and squeezing my shoulder. I force a smile and walk to the door with him. “Wanna go get a coffee? Maybe that’ll cheer you up,” he suggests happily, his voice echoing in the hall to the door.

“Yeah sure,” I respond slowly, unsure of my words. I let him guide me out of the lecture hall and into the busy hallways.

Wow, Harry, you moved on from Amber that quick, huh? I think to myself with knitted brows and self-doubt. Swallowing, I try to push the nagging thought away. But I can’t, and I find myself barely able to carry on a conversation with Simon.

I thought seeing Harry in my lecture was one of the sweetest surprises. Instead, it feels like a happy dream that turned into a nightmare at the end.

27 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

Lost one sibling, gained four more; Queen x teen reader pt.1

*Author's note*

Can this be true? Two updates in one day?! Well you better damn BELIEVE IT MY PEOPLE!!! I just got this request FINALLY done after working non-stop when I could and finally I had time to just sit down and finish it. So I'd love to thank the requestor for being SOOO patient. And yes this request is VERY long so this is just Part one, pt.2 will be posted immediately after this so just hang tight my darlings :)

So warnings include: INSANE FLUFF, cancerous sickness (leukemia), some angst (but not in the part but buckle up for pt.2), and the lovely and nasty Queenies :) Hope you all enjoy this fic as much as you've enjoyed the last one :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@geek-and-proud

@platawnic

@queendeakyy

@coolcxt

______________________________________________________________

*Tokyo, Japan 1974*

Being here in Tokyo, Japan has been such a thrill. Even though the boys weren't overly popular like the Beatles or Elton John just yet back home in England, at least here in Japan they've greeted them like royalty. There were screaming fans everywhere to greet us at the airport holding up pictures, drawings and signs welcoming the guys to their home country.

The boys had a press conference earlier today and now we were in a special garden just behind the Tokyo tower for the tea ceremony. It was such a beautiful day for such a ceremony and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.

As I looked at the boys I could tell they were extremely happy to be here. I looked down at my art book and went back to sketching the boys who were all sitting along the blanket holding their Japanese teacups. Making sure to get each detail of each of their features, and the last detail like the wind blowing their hair down just right.

Oh I should introduce myself; my names (y/n) (l/n). I had gotten a job being an assistant to the band's lawyer Jim Beach just before Queen began recording their 3rd album "Sheer Heart attack". Since joining the boys over a year ago when I was just 16 years old, they have become like a second family to me.

And it's exactly what I needed because—well I've been dealing with some hardships in my family as of late for the past few years now, so being with the guys has really helped brighten my day.

As I watched the boys play with their gifts given to them by the Japanese fans and giving them a recorded message, curtesy of the Japanese press that had joined us along with the ladies who help run the tea ceremonies for only the elite politicians of Japan.

God were they ever silly, Roger photobombing behind in almost every message, Deacy being a secret cheeky guy, Freddie interrupting Roger's greeting, and Brian stepping in when he felt like it during Fred's message. I continued my outline of the boys on the blanket with the Tokyo tower in the background, when I felt something touch behind my ear.

"A blossom for our blossom." I softly grinned and turned around to see Freddie and Deacy standing behind me. I lifted my hand to see just what he had done but he told me, "No, no darling don't touch it. Deacy darling, take a picture of us two."

I blushed and tried to bury my face into my hands.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no love not this time. You've been avoiding all pictures ever since we got here. I deserve at least one with you in it for myself." Deacy said as Freddie pulled me close onto his lap and leaned his head against mine.

"You guys are nuts, you know that?"

"But you love us dear." Freddie said as he gave my temple a quick peck.

"Yeah, guess I do."

"Alright you two look this way." Deacy said as he prepped his camera. We turned to face Deacy and I wrapped my arms around Fred's neck and his arms went around my waist as we leaned our heads against each other's. Deacy got in a few pictures and he said. "Beautiful."

"Tell me we can see the blossom in her hair Deacy."

"Yep, got a clear picture of that." I gently removed the twig from my hair to see a multiple line of cheery blossoms. I smiled and that's when Fred grabbed my art book.

"Working on some new sketches darling?"

"Yeah, Japan's definitely given me some beautiful inspiration. But most of it is still a work in process, so no lookies."

"Aww c'mon dear let me have a sneak peek, please? From one designer to another?"

"No not even if you were my professor Freddie."

"Oh you better hand over the sketch book (Y/n) darling, if you know it's good for you." He playfully threatened. I gripped my book tightly to my chest and that's when he said. "Fine, you leave me no choice. Roger!"

"Shit no!" I took off running and before I even knew it, Roger quickly swooped in and swung me around and he said.

"Might as well give up lovie, you know it's useless to get out of my grasp." He emphasized his point by nuzzling my head like a cat and peppering my face with slobbery kisses.

"Eww Rog! Cut it out!!" I tried to escape his grip but as always it was pointless to escape the arms of Roger Taylor. He kept peppering kisses all over my face, even poking me in the sides slightly tickling me till the grip on my notebook was just enough for it to fall.

Deacy caught it and handed it to Fred.

"Thank you my darlings."

"Deacy, Rog, you both are on the official hate list. I no longer like you two." I huffed.

"Aww, that hurts poppet, that really hurts." Deacy mocked using the puppy dog eyes on me that he knew I couldn't resist.

"After all we've been through (n/n) you'd just dump me like that?" Roger faked cried.

"You are such a drama queen Rog." He grinned and playfully ruffled my hair and that's when Freddie said.

"Ohh (y/n) darling. These are—there's not even a word that can describe what I'm looking at. The realism is uncanny down to the last detail. You even got Brian's hair right and not even I can do that."

"I'll admit, even though I'm no artist that these pictures look like a photograph being developed. You're truly talented (y/n)." Deacy praised me as he looked over Fred's shoulder. Brian soon came up and he said.

"I must admit Fred's right. Every hair detail for all of us is down to the straight detail. Do you—think I could get a signed copy of this?"

"Not if I take one first Brian." Roger spoke up.

"I swear darling, you should go to the university I went to; Ealing Art college. They'd be soo lucky to have you."

"Well.....I mean they're okay but I don't think they're worthy of that university." I muttered.

"Don't be so modest darling, I'll even give you a recommendation. As an alumni I can have the rights to help you get in." he decreed.

"Well I'll—I'll think about it Freddie. Right now I just want to get through secondary school and graduate from that." After that conversation, the five of us continued to have a fun time in the Japanese garden.

After the tour in Japan, I arrived back in London and as the guys were piling in the cab Roger said.

"C'mon love let's go."

"Actually I promised my mum that I'd wait here for her. She said she was gonna take me home."

"You sure?" asked Brian.

"Yeah, she might be waiting outside right now. You guys go on ahead I'll see you guys next week."

"Alright, thanks for coming with us love."

"Thank you guys for inviting me. I had a wonderful time."

"You always make our tours and trips more memorable (y/n) dear. Drive safe." He came up and kissed my cheeks and hugged me. I hugged each of my boys and they piled into the cab waving goodbye to me. I blew them a kiss goodbye and they took off in the cab.

About five minutes after they left, my mom's van pulled up. I smiled at her and picked up my luggage and headed towards the car. I placed them in the backseat and I hugged my mum.

"Did you have fun love?"

"Ohh Japan was so beautiful, I wish you and Kay could've been there to see it."

"I'm sure your sister would've loved to have gone with you."

"How—how has she been?"

"Well we—had a bit of a scare just the other week, but she's stable now."

"What? What happened to her?! Why didn't you call me?"

"I tried but each time I did no one was answering. Plus with the time difference and this internship I didn't want you distracted."

"Mum, if something happens to Kaylee, I deserve to know." She cupped the side of my face and said.

"You're right I'm sorry. Do you wish to see her?" I nodded and said.

"I still gotta give her that gift I promised her." My mum shifted the car into drive and drove us out of the airport to London hospital.

Once we arrived at the hospital, my mum checked us in and we headed towards my sister's room on the 5th floor. Now you remember me mentioning about the family turmoil right? Well it all has to do with my bestest friend in the whole wide world, my older sister Kaylee. See about 4 or 5 years ago we noticed how she'd always get high fevers and suddenly seemed to be losing weight.

At first I thought she was going anorexic but when she passed out and my mum and I saw the bruises forming on her arms, we immediately rushed her over here to the hospital where they diagnosed her with acute myeloid leukemia.

It devastated the whole family and it really began to take a toll on my mum and now we're hardly able to afford my sister's medical bills to pay for all the chemo she has to go through. That's why I got the job with Jim in the first place.

Any checks I get from him, go straight to my sister. Not my college fund. In fact I'm not even going to college, cause I want to continue to fund for my sister's health, and finally get her the cure she deserves.

When we got to her room, there she was lying on her bed, beanie on top of her head to cover her bald head. She turned over to me and smiled tiredly.

"Hey (y/n)." I smiled and rushed over to her and hugged her without hurting her. "How was Japan?"

"It was beautiful. Maybe once you're out and better we can take a trip there."

"I hope so."

"Oh hey, I got you what you've been asking for." I went into my bag and pulled out a poster of the Queen 2 poster that had all the guys' signatures on them. I had asked them while we were in Japan if they could sign this for me. Easily able to trick them, I told them to write it for Kay, telling them that it was a nickname of sorts.

"Oh my god." She squealed softly as she took the poster in her hands and looked at it. See she's the reason why I got into Queen. Since she's two years older than me, she first heard about the first Queen album and kept playing it on repeat.

Liking the music I was hearing, she gave me a brief education on Queen and ever since then, we've been fangirls of Queen ever since. They're music has really helped my sister a lot especially since her leukemia has seemed to be getting progressively worse in the past year.

"Thank you (y/n). You are so lucky that you get to work with them."

"Well it's mostly just doing stuff for their lawyer. I don't actually help make the songs."

"Still, you're living every girl's dream right now at the chance of even being close to them. Are they nice?"

"Oh Kay, nice doesn't even begin to describe them. They're so sweet and down to earth. Cheeky at times especially Roger and Freddie, but they are all so supportive and treat me like I'm a part of their little family."

"I'm glad they're treating you right." I then showed her some of the pictures that I had drew while I was there and some of the photos I took. "God (y/n). I envy you for your drawings. And the fact that you were in Japan. You know I always wanted to go there."

"Well—maybe when you get out, we can take a trip there." Unaware of my mum's solemn attitude, my sister smiled and said.

"Yeah. Maybe we can make it just the two of us squirt." She playfully shoved my head, our friendly little gesture of affection since we were kids.

"Hey I'm 2 years younger than you."

"Still a squirt compared to me." She teased.

After about a week of being back home, I went between my final few weeks of home schooling, the studio and the hospital. Right now I was sitting with my sister, the two of us having the boys' "Sheer Heart attack" album playing in the background as my sister and I were chatting away.

"Okay so FMK; Paul McCartney, David Bowie or Elton John." I asked my sister.

"Oh Goddamnit (n/n) why make me choose those three. I love all of them!" she whined.

"Cause I'm evil like that. No c'mon you made me have to kill Brian the last time so this is payback."

"Okay, okay. So.....ugh I hate you. Okay I would marry Elton, fuck Paul and I'm sorry David. God I hate you so much!"

"Haha!"

"Well don't let David hear you say that darling." Oh god it—it can't be. We suddenly looked up and there stood Brian, Freddie, Deacy and Roger.

"Oh my god what are—what are you guys doing here?"

"You left your journal at the studio last night. We called your mum to see if we could give it to you at the house but she told us you were at the hospital." Answered Deacy as he held up my art journal.

"At first we got worried that something bad had happened to you, but then she explained to us what was going on." Continued Roger.

"So you must be the real Kay." Freddie pointed towards my sister.

"Guys I'm—I'm sorry I tricked you, I just....."

"It's alright love. There's no need to explain. It's sweet you got something for your sister after all you've done for her. But we figured maybe a visit from the real band might make her day a bit better." Brian said with a soft smile.

"I—I....." Kaylee started as the boys all came in and sat around us.

"So Kaylee darling, which of our three albums is your favorite?" asked Freddie.

"Uhh well I—it's hard to pick but I guess your recent album Sheer Heart attack is probably my favorite."

"Do you have a favorite song from the album?" asked Brian.

"Oh god uhh—can't I say I love them all? It's so hard to pick a favorite song of yours."

"That's understandable." Replied Deacy.

For the rest of the time, my sister got to ask the guys so many questions about how their musical processes, how they choose which lyrics work the best, how the arrangement works when performing, how they all got together, everything she had been dying to know since she was a music nut.

And bless the boys they answered all her questions no matter how ridiculous or embarrassing they were. Soon a nurse came in to tell me that visiting hours were over.

I hugged my sister goodbye and even the guys gave her a hug and kiss goodbye, which made her heart meter skyrocket, especially when she got a kiss to the cheek from Deacy.

I walked out with the guys and we all piled into the car and I said to them.

"Thanks you guys."

"For what lovie?" asked Roger.

"For—being nice to my sister. You four.....have made her happier than my mum and I have seen her in years since she's had to go back and forth between home and the hospital."

"You're family to us (n/n). And if we could give a little bit more back to you, it's always worth it. We're honored that you let us in on this personal matter of your life. Thank you for letting us have your trust." Said Brian.

"Just—promise me that none of this gets leaked out."

"Don't be ridiculous dear. We wouldn't dare proclaim this secret of yours out to the public. Your sister's secret heath crisis is safe with us." Freddie said as he stroked down my hair. I smiled and thanked them once more.

One year later in 1975 I was with the boys, Mr. Reid, Paul Prenter and my boss Jim Beach. We were currently in Ray Foster's office waiting for Freddie to arrive for the meeting of the next hit album. I leaned my chin against my palm as I drummed against the armrest of the chair I was sitting in.

Finally Freddie walked in greeting us with a hello.

"You're late." Said Mr. Foster.

"Am I?" questioned Freddie.

"Saved you a seat." Paul said as he gestured at the chair I was sitting at. He then glared down at me ordering me to move. I sat up but then just before I could walk away to stand beside my boss, I was pulled onto the couch and saw that it was Roger who had pulled me in to sit on his lap. He winked at me and placed a quick peck on my forehead as Mr. Reid introduced my boss to Ray Foster.

"You must stop calling him that." Freddie said as he lit himself a cigarette.

"That's his name." said Mr. Reid.

"No we cannot keep calling him Jim Beach. No that's absurd not to mention unspeakably boring." He breathed in a quick drag before proclaiming. "Miami. From now on; I dub thee, Miami Beach." My boss chuckled then said a quick little teasing joke of Miami Beach.

Truthfully I liked it, hopefully I can have the honor of calling him that one day but for now I'll just settle on Mr. Beach as I have been referring him as.

"Right now that everyone's got an acceptable name let's get to it. Look; we just really need something special. More hits, like "Killer Queen", only bigger."

"It's not bloody widgets we're making. We can't just reproduce Killer Queen." Said Roger as Freddie sat up and walked towards Ray's record player taking out a record from his bag.

"No. We can do better." Said Freddie as he placed the record on the vinyl and turned it on. He lifted the needle and placed it at a specific point and soon coming out of the speakers was the famed song from Carmen. I grinned and as Freddie gracefully walked around moving his finger around to the tun, Mr. Foster bluntly stated.

"It's opera."

"Opera!" exclaimed Mr. Reid.

"Opera." Echoed Paul.

"Ahh there seems to be an echo in here." Deacy stated which made me choke out a laugh. As the song continued, when it got to the big crescendo part of the song, Freddie went all out waving his arm in tune before on the final note, slamming his hand down on Foster's desk. He almost couldn't contain his excitement as I chuckled softly.

Brian, Rog and Deacy were also in tune to the idea as they with less enthusiasm as Freddie but the same interest followed the next crescendo of the choir. Freddie turned the volume down as Brian said.

"See we don't want to repeat ourselves. The same formula over and over."

"Formulas are a complete and utter waste of time." Freddie stated bluntly.

"Formulas work. Let's stick with the formulas. I like formulas." Mr. Foster said.

"We'll call the album......A Night at the Opera." Hmm after a Marx brother's film. Sounds interesting.

"Are you aware that no one actually likes Opera."

"I like it." I said to myself, but I guess it was loud enough because Mr. Foster looked right at me through his shades and asked skeptically.

"Do you?"

"I do as well." I heard my boss say. I looked at him and he gave me a slight nod. God he was such a cool boss.

"No don't misunderstand darling, it's a rock and roll record. With the scale of opera. The pathos of Greek tragedy, the wit of Shakespeare, the—unbridled joy of musical theatre. It's a musical experience. Rather than just another record, something for everyone something—something that will make people feel belongs to them. We'll mix genres, we'll cross boundaries, we'll—we'll—we'll speak in bloody tongues if we want to."

"There-there's no musical ghetto that can contain us." Proclaimed Roger.

"That's it." Freddie pointed towards Roger.

"No one knows what Queen means because it doesn't mean one thing." Deacy pointed out.

All was quiet, man I have a feeling that this album was gonna be the one that would put Queen on the map of the entire world, that after this they were gonna change the name of music forever.

"What do you think John?" Foster asked Mr. Reid.

"I—agree with the band."

"Of course you do." He then turned towards me and asked, "How about you uhh—" I was shocked that he wanted my opinion. I looked to the guys and they gave me an encouraging nod.

"(Y/n). Well—fortune favors the bold, does it not?" I felt Roger pat my shoulder. Freddie then leaned against Foster's desk as he said.

"Surely a man of your—unique taste. Isn't afraid of a little risk?" Foster debated before finally saying.

"Please don't make me regret this."

"You're fun." Freddie pointed out with a grin.

After the meeting, Jim called me into his office and I said as I peeked into it.

"You wished to see me sir?"

"Yes c'mon in (y/n). Have a seat." I took a seat in front of his desk. "Alright (y/n), now it's come to my attention that since you and the boys have gotten so close with each other since you started working here, I feel it's best that since I can't go with them to Rockfield due to my legal matters here as their lawyer, that I'm electing you to go with them to keep an eye on them."

I was flabbergasted. Me? Go with them to Rockfield studios?

"M—Mr. Beach....."

"Miami." Wow he did he really just ask me to call him that. "Freddie's insisted that you refer to me as that from now on." Ahh that Freddie Mercury.

"Miami. I mean it's an honor but I—I don't think I can go away for that long. I mean....."

"Please (y/n). You know as well as I do that Paul has no good intentions when it comes to Queen." That I do. Ever since working with the boys, I've had a sickening feeling about Paul Prenter. There was just something about him that felt—slimy, ill, almost like a virus.

"Yeah."

"There's no other person I would trust more to go with the boys to the farm. Plus they all believe that you should go with them anyway so it's out of my hands either way."

"I'll think about it."

"Just make sure you tell them in two days' time when they leave for the recording." I nodded and stood up. "Oh wait, one more thing. Your paycheck." He then took out his checkbook and wrote down my pay for the 2 weeks. I thanked him but when I looked down, my eyes widened.

"Wait uhh—Miami. This....this is double the normal amount you pay me."

"I know."

"I agreed to be paid 500 pounds."

"It's come to my attention there's some financial struggle you're going through. The boys wouldn't explain it in full detail but they made me aware that you were in dire need of it. Plus I know they can be a lot to handle, so you deserve 1000 anyway." I looked down but couldn't help the small smile across my face.

"Thank you—Miami." He smiled and nodded at me and I left his office with my raised paycheck. As I walked across the hall, I saw the boys go from the snooping position to trying to act nonchalantly, like they weren't spying on me. "I know you four had something to do with this." I said raising my check.

"We have no idea what you're talking about (n/n)." said Brian as he looked over his six-pence coin that served as his guitar pick.

"So you're coming with us right?" asked Freddie.

"I—I'll get back to you on that. I—I need to talk to Kay about it."

"I'm sure she'll let you come with us. C'mon love just say you'll be coming with us." Roger said as he came up and wrapped his arms around me.

"Besides you'll be much better company than Prenter. I'll go mad if I have to see him every day while we're there." Said Deacy.

"Exactly Deacy!" agreed Roger.

So that night after work, I was in Kaylee's room and I told her about what I was going to do for the summer and she was psyched for me.

"I say you go!" she proclaimed.

"But what about you?" I asked. She reached over and took my hand and she said.

"You've been doing too much for me. You've always put me over yourself. And this is your last chance to be a free kid before you start thinking about college. So please for my sake go with them. If not I'll never let you live it down. Ever."

"Okay, okay. I'll give Fred a call tomorrow and tell him."

"Call him tonight."

"Fine. And you're sure you'll be fine."

"Yes. I've got mum to look after me. And I expect new drawings, pictures and lots of stories from you when you get back."

"I promise Kay, thanks girl." She smiled as I leaned forward and we hugged each other.

In two days, the guys picked me up right at 4am on the dot so that way we'd get there by sunrise to the farm. Deacy put my bags in the trunk while I hugged and kissed my mum and sis goodbye.

"Now be sure to be good for these boys (y/n)."

"I will mum. Promise me to keep me updated on everything?"

"You know me, I'll be calling you every night." I smiled and separated from my mum before finally standing before my sister.

"Don't do anything insane till I get back." I told her. She smiled and scoffed playfully.

"How can I? You're taking all the insanity with you." I grinned back at her and the two of us embraced each other. "Have fun tigress."

"Be strong lioness."

"Oh come on let's get a move on! Anymore wasted time here and we'll be late!" I heard Paul cry out.

"Piss off Prenter! Let her say goodbye to her family." Brian sneered.

"Go on, don't want you to get into trouble." Kay said as we separated. I waved bye to them one last time and I got into the car with Rog and Deacy and soon we drove off.

"Since it'll be a long drive and it's still pretty early, why don't you try and go back to sleep (y/n)?" suggested Deacy. I nodded and leaned my head back against the car, but Deacy offered his shoulder for me to sleep on. I took his offer and in his playful jealous tone, Roger spoke up.

"What about me?"

"You fidget around too much on long car rides." I moaned tiredly.

"Why you little—"

"Face it Rog, she loves me more than you do when it comes to sleeping buddies. Isn't that right love?"

"Yeah." I heard Rog huff but then he said.

"Well at least I provide the best blankets." He emphasized that point by draping his fur coat over my shoulders as a blanket.

"Won't deny that though. You both take such good care of me."

"Only the best for you love." I nuzzled into Deacy's shoulder and exhaled tiredly through my nose and began to fall back asleep.

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The Weekend Warrior 12/4/20 – HALF BROTHERS, THE PROM, I’M YOUR WOMAN, BLACK BEAR, LUXOR, ANOTHER ROUND, ALL MY LIFE, NOMADLAND, MANK and Much More!

I hope everyone had an absolutely wonderful Thanksgiving. Mine was relatively uneventful, and I only spent most of my time watching movies. And holy shit, there are a LOT of movies out this week, but at least a few of them I’ve already seen and reviewed, and there are others that are actually pretty good, so I might as well get to it, hm?

First up is this week’s Focus Features theatrical release, HALF BROTHERS, a buddy road comedy directed by Luke Greenfield (Blue Streak, Let’s Be Cops) that’s fairly high concept but also with quite a bit more depth than the director’s previous movies. It stars Luis Gerardo Méndez as Renato Murguia, a wealthy Mexican businessman whose father left him to come to America when Renato was just a child. Just as Renato is about to get married while having issues connecting to his future stepson Emilio, he gets a call that his own father is dying, so he begrudgingly goes to see him. Once there, Renato’s dying father sends him on a scavenger hunt to find someone named “Eloise” with his annoying slacker half-brother Asher (Connor del Rio), because that will provide all the answers Renato is looking for on why his father never returned from America, remarried and had another son. What could possibly go wrong?

If you’ve seen any of the ads for Half Brothers, you may already presume that this is a fairly high-concept buddy road comedy that is constantly going for the zaniest and craziest of laughs. That probably would only be maybe 25% of the movie. Instead, this fairly mainstream comedy finds a way to take a very common comedy trope and throw in enough heartfelt moments that you can forgive the few times when it does go for low-hanging fruit. We’ve seen so many movies like this where two guys (or sometimes ladies, but not as often) are paired with one having zero patience or tolerance for the other, who is beyond aggravating to them. (Planes, Trains and Automobiles is one of the better ones.) Obviously, Renato fits snugly into the first category, and Asher could not be more annoying, very early on stealing a goat for no particular reason.

The Mexican angle and the fact that a lot of the film is in Spanish – Focus getting into Pantelion territory here? – does add to make Half Brothers feel like more of a personal story than we might normally see in this kind of movie, touching upon the immigrant experience, from the viewpoint of a low-paid worker as well as a well-to-do industrialist. It also deals with things like fatherhood and brotherhood and what it means to be one or both, so everything ultimately connects far better in the end than some might expect. I also want to give the filmmakers credit for putting together a cast of mostly unknown or little-known actors and getting such great results out of them.

On the surface, Half Brothers seems like just another buddy comedy, but underneath, it’s a heartfelt and emotional journey that touches in so many ways and ends up being quite enjoyable.

Another movie opening nationwide this Friday is ALL MY LIFE (Universal), starring Jessica (Happy Death Day) Rothe as Jennifer Carter and Harry (Crazy Rich Asians) Shum Jr. as Solomon Chau, whose wedding plans are thrown off when he is diagnosed with liver cancer. They realize they have to get married sooner since he might not live to make their planned date, so their friends launch a fundraiser so that they can get married in two weeks. The movie is directed by Marc Meyers (My Friend Dahmer), who is a more than capable filmmaker with this being his third movie in the last two years.

Now that I’ve actually seen the movie… I’ll freely admit that this is not the kind of movie I usually have very high expectations for, and maybe that’s because I’ve already been burnt twice this year with real-life romantic dramas, first with the faith-based I Still Believe in March and then more recently with Two Hearts. In both cases, I could count the issues and why they failed to tug at the heart strings as they were meant to do. Even though I’ve generally enjoyed Meyers’ past movies, I wasn’t even sure he could pull off this type of studio romance movie without having to cowtow to the corny clichés that always seem to slip in – or at least find a way to make them more palatable. (And let’s be realistic. This is the kind of movie that snobby film critics just LOVE to trash.)

First of all, Meyers already has two truly fantastic leads working in his movie’s favor. I’ve been a true Jessica Rothe stan ever since seeing her kill it in Happy Death Day and its sequel. Shum is perfectly paired with her, and the two of them are so good from the moment they first meet and we meet them. In every scene, you feel like you’re watching some of that rare on-screen romantic chemistry that’s so hard to fake. Their relationship is romantic and goofy, and you’re just rooting for them all the way through even if you do know what’s to come.

Eventually, Sol does fall ill, and it does lead to some more dramatic and tougher moments between the couple, but all of it is handled so tastefully, including their need to raise money so they can have their wedding rather than waiting. I am living proof that people really do come together to step up when they see someone in real need, so I couldn’t even tut tut at something like their fundraiser getting so many people to chip in. On top of his two leads, Meyers has assembled such a great cast around the duo, the most recognizable being Jay Pharaoh from Saturday Night Live, everyone around Jess and Sol handles the requisite emotions with nary a weak link.

There’s just so much other stuff that adds to the enjoyment of watching All My Life from the use of Oasis and Pat Benatar in the soundtrack just to the quality storytelling that makes it all feel quite believable. These sorts of movies tend to be rather corny and the diehard cynic who doesn’t have an ounce of romance or love in their body will find things to hate.

All My Life finds its way into your heart by being one of those rare studio romance movies that understands how human emotions truly work, and there’s nothing corny about that. It’s a beautiful movie that entertains but also elicits more than a few tears. Watch it with someone you love.

This week’s “Featured Flick” is Chloe Zhao’s amazing film NOMADLAND (Searchlight), which I reviewed out of its Toronto International Film Festival premiere, but it’s (sort of) being released in theaters this week. It stars Frances McDormand as Fern, a woman living in her van as she moves from place to place taking odd jobs within a community of nomads. It’s another amazing film from the filmmaker behind The Rider, who will make her foray into the Marvel Cinematic Universe next year with The Eternals, which I’m just as psyched about. There’s no denying that McDormand gives a performance that’s a knock-out, even better than the one in 3 Billboards if you ask me, and there’s also a great supporting role for David Strathairn, who I’ve been hoping would have another role as good as this one. Zhao is just a fantastic filmmaker, and I’m glad to see that The Rider was no fluke.

Unfortunately, Nomadland is only getting a one-week Oscar qualifying run, and I’m not even sure where it’s getting that run since theaters in New York and L.A. aren’t even open yet. Maybe Searchlight will do some drive-in screenings like they did for the New York Film Festival and Telluride? It will get a stronger theatrical release (hopefully) on February 21, just to make doubly sure it qualifies for Oscars.

Opening in theaters this week before streaming on Netflix December 11 is Ryan Murphy’s adaptation of the Broadway musical THE PROM, the first feature film he’s directed in ten years. The multiple Tony-nominated musical is about a high school girl named Emma (newcomer Jo Ellan Pellman) who wants to take her girlfriend (Ariana DeBose) to their senior prom, but the head of the PTA (Kerry Washington) cancels the prom instead. The national outrage the situation creates gets the attention of a quintet of self-absorbed Broadway actors who decide to improve their PR by taking up Emma’s cause. Oh, yeah, and those actors are played by Meryl Streep, James Corden, Nicole Kidman, and actual Broadway stars Andrew Rannells and Kevin Chamberlin. What could possibly go wrong?

I’ve never had any sort of positive or negative gut reaction to Murphy’s work on television over the past few years, but I’ve definitely been mixed on the three movies he’s directed to date. I wasn’t a huge fan of his Eat Pray Love, though I vaguely remember enjoying his debut, Running with Scissors. Either way, he certainly has found his niche with musicals from Glee (a show I’ve never watched) and finding a musical like The Promseems to be a perfect fit between filmmaker and material.

Having not seen The Prom on Broadway – surprise, surprise -- I was a little worried that it was going to go down the path of nudge-nudge wink-wink inside Broadway path that helped Mel Brooks’ The Producers become a Broadway hit. That I saw, and I didn’t hate the movie based on it, although I’m by no means a total movie-musical stan. There’s some obvious older ones I love, some newer ones that others love but I hated – Rob Marshall is about 50/50 for me -- and you might be surprised by which of them I liked best.

What I thoroughly enjoyed about The Prom is that Murphy manages to truly surprise everyone watching it, whether it’s in Kerry Washington’s single song – who knew she had such an amazing singing voice? – or how enjoyable Keegan-Michael Key is as the school’s Principal Hawkins, who not only loves musicals but actually admires Streep’s two-time Tony-award winning Dee Dee Allen. Considering my frequent disdain for Streep’s over-confidence, knowing full well that she’s one of the best living actors working today, she’s actually pretty amazing in the role of what many must assume Streep is like in real life, which makes her character more than a little META. In some ways, I can say the same for Corden, who is pretty fantastic as Dee Dee’s frequent stage co-star Barry Glickman, who has his own connections to Emma’s plight having been disowned by his mother (Tracey Ullman, who only shows up for one brief scene late in the movie) when he came out to her. Corden has one dramatic moment so powerful I was taken quite aback.

Even with those two actors and Kidman likely to get much of the attention, there’s no denying that the romance between Hellman and Debose, and the three or four numbers they have together, makes up the true heart and soul of The Prom. So here you have this amazing cast, and it’s a musical made-up of very fun and quite catchy songs, and that’s long before you get to Andrew Rannells as out-of-work actor Trent Oliver, who practically steals the whole movie with his showstopper of a number, “Love Thy Neighbor.” And then watching Key holding his own with Streep, both musically and dramatically, you might start wondering, “What is going on here?”

Like I said before, it’s pretty obvious that Murphy has fully poured his passion of movie-musicals into every second of The Prom, and it shows on the face of everyone joining him on this adventure. As much as the subject at the film’s core is fairly serious and a hurdle that many gay kids across the world every day, it’s also quite funny. Kudos must be given to Murphy for being able to emphasize those moments as well as the more dramatic ones. Besides that, Murphy really takes advantage of being able to go to different locations, including a sequence on Broadway that could have been done during the pandemic (it actually was built on a soundstage), another number at an actual mall and even at a monster truck rally. It also doesn’t hurt that Murphy hired Matthew Libatique, a god-like cinematographer in my book, to film the movie either.

Like most musicals, The Prom might lose a little as it goes along, since it gets to be too much that goes on for too long, but then there are more than enough great moments to pull you back. It’s by far one of the stronger movie musicals I’ve seen in a very long time, and just the right feel-good experience we all need right now.

I’ve already reviewed David Fincher’s MANK – a few times, in fact – but if you’re in one of the places where it opened theatrically in November, you can finally see it on Netflix starting this Friday. This is the general problem with the way things are these days because even though this only opened a few weeks ago, I already feel that it’s been discussed and forgotten before most people will have a chance to see it. Anyway, if for some reason, you’ve managed to avoid things about the movie, it essentially stars Gary Oldman as Herman Mankiewicz, the Hollywood screenwriter who ended up co-writing Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane in 1940. The film follows Mankiewicz as he mingles with the Hollywood elite in the 30s, including billionaire William Randolph Hearst (Charles Dance) and his young ingenue girlfriend Marion Davies (Amanda Seyfried) who would be the influence for his Oscar-winning screenplay. I expect to be writing a lot about this movie as we get closer to Oscar season sometime next year.

Also on Netflix this week is Selena: The Series, starring Christian Serratos. It’s the kind of thing that I probably would never watch unless I have an excess of time, and as you’re about to learn from the rest of the column, that doesn’t happen frequently.

The third chapter of Steve McQueen’s “Small Axe Anthology,” RED WHITE AND BLUE, will debut on Prime Video this Sunday, starring John Boyega as Leroy Logan, a young black man who joins the Metropolitan Police after seeing his father assaulted by police and wanting to make a difference in the racist attitudes from within. You might remember that I reviewed this out of the New York Film Festival a couple months back, so not much more to say there.

A week from Sunday, on December 13, McQueen’s fourth film, ALEX WHEATLE, will hit Amazon, and guess what? I’ve already seen it, so I will review it now. How about that? Alex Wheatle is also a true story, this one starring Sheyi Cole as the award-winning young adult writer when he was a younger and just learning the ropes as a drugdealer/DJ in Brixton before his involvement in the 1981 Brixton riots gets him thrown in jail.

As with the other three movies in the “Small Axe Anthology” there are recurring elements and themes in Alex Wheatle, mostly about the way the immigrants to England from Jamaica and other islands are treated by “The Beast” aka what they call the Metropolitan Police. It does take a little time to get to that, as McQueen, working from a screenplay co-written by Mangrove’s Alaistar Siddons, takes a far more non-linear approach than the other three films. We first see Wheatle being taken into prison where he’s thrown into a cell with a constantly-shitting Rastafarian, but we then cut back to his schooling for a short sequence that reminded me of Alan Clarke’s Scum. Both in prison and in school, we see Alex being abused by classmates and head matron alike, and this portion of the film includes another one of arty moments of actor Cole laying on the ground eyes wide open staring for what seems to go on forever. In some ways, this sequence reminds me of McQueen’s fantastic early film Hunger, since it seems to be cut from similar cloth.

Eventually, Alex gets to Brixton and that’s where this chapter in “Small Axe” really takes off as we see how naïve and green he is while dealing with quite a tough crowd and trying to adjust to city life among the Rastafarian community.

As with the other “Small Axe” chapters, I love how McQueen and his team used reggae music to help set the tone and vibe for the episode, because like Baz Lurhman’s Netflix series The Get Down, the music is frequently a key to this biopic working so well. Of course, it’s also due to the performance by Cole and the actors around him that helps make you feel as if you’re seeing a real part of history.

As with Mangrove, this chapter culminates with an amazing recreation of the 1981 Brixton Riots, done in protest after a house party fire in New Cross that the police don’t bother investigating. The actual riots were a much bigger and scarier event going by Wikipedia which says that 279 police were injured and 56 police vehicles set fire, which makes it sound more like the ’92 L.A. Riots.

I’m not sure Alex Wheatle does as good a job explaining how the young man goes into prison as a DJ and comes out as an author, but like Red, White and Blue it’s still an important and inspirational story that adds quite a bit to the previous three “Small Axe” films.

And once again, here is my interview with McQueen from over at Below the Line.

Also, I should mention that Darius Marder’s excellent Sound of Metal movie, starring Riz Ahmed, hits Amazon Prime Video this Friday, too. Check out my review!

The magnificent Andrea Riseborough stars in Zeina Durra’s LUXOR (Samuel Goldwyn), playing British aid worker Hana who while spending time in the ancient city of Luxor, runs into her former lover Sultan (Karim Saleh), as she reflects on past decisions and her current uncertain situation.

I was quite interested in this one sight unseen, not only because it’s another great starring role for Riseborough. (Honestly, she is one of the best actors working today, and I strongly believe she is just one role away from being the next Olivia Colman, who had been amazing for years before everyone in America “discovered” her in The Favourite and then The Crown… which I still haven’t watched! ARGH!). I was a little anxious about the movie, having seen Rubba Nadda’s Cairo Time, starring Patricia Clarkson and Alexander Siddig, which seemingly had the exact same plot.

Durra is a much more capable and confident filmmaker and there’s a lot more overall value in watching Riseborough exploring Egypt as Durra quietly allows Hana’s story to unfold through her interactions with others, as well as her time alone, often languishing in one luxurious hotel room or another. Then there are the quiet and sometime awkward scenes between her and Saleh, the two of them having been lovers when they were both much younger. We also see Hana in far more vulnerable moments, so we know that she’s by no means actor, and it takes a great actor to really pull off such a dichotomy and bring such dimension to a character with so few words.

There’s something that’s almost comforting watching her dealing with emotions like loneliness in such a tranquil way. I’d even go so far to say that Luxor works in many ways similar to Nomadland, which obviously is getting the far more high-profile release with lots of festival love long before its actual release. Like that movie, Durra’s film benefits from having masterful cinematography by Zelmira Gainza and an equally gorgeous score by Nascuy Linares, to boot.

Luxor is a quiet, beautifully-made film that really took me by surprise. It acts as much like a travelogue of the title city as it does a tourist’s map to what it must feel like being a woman very much on her own in a foreign land.

I also spoke with Luxor filmmaker Zeina Durra, an interview that will be up at Below the Line hopefully sometime later this week.

With all the talk about Aubrey Plaza in Happiest Season (now on Hulu!), this would be a great time to release another one of her indies that played at the Sundance Film Festival this year, right? What can possibly go wrong?

In Lawrence Michael Levine’s BLACK BEAR (Momentum Pictures), Plaza plays Allison, an actor/filmmaker who arrives at the remote lake house of Christopher Abbott’s Gabe and his pregnant partner Blair (Sarah Gadon), to relax and work on a screenplay, only for the night to turn into philosophical discussions that transform into angry and even violent squabbles. In the second part of the movie, Gabe is the director, and Allison his actor wife, who thinks he’s sleeping with Blair, who is also acting in Gabe’s film.

That plot might seem a little vague, and I can’t exactly tell you whether there is much connection between the two parts of the movie other than it features the same three characters. The first half turns from a drama into a thriller before ending abruptly, while the second part is equal parts comedy and drama as we see a larger part of the world around the trio. In fact, the second part of Black Bear reminded me somewhat of Olivier Assayas’Irma Vep, one of my favorite movies, and that might be one of the highest compliments I can pay a movie.

But first, you have to get through the more quizzical and dramatic first part, which easily could have been done as a three-handed stageplay as we see the changing dynamics between the three people as things get crazier and crazier with one “Holy shit!” moment after the next. (It reminded me a little of Mamet or the play “Gods of Carnage,” although I only saw that as the movie version Carnage, directed by Roman Polanski.)

The fact the connection between the two parts is never explained might confound some people who were otherwise enjoying what is a pretty decent three-hander, but the common theme involves jealousy between the two women. Plaza is a fine dramatic actor when she wants to be, and Gadon is absolutely fantastic, which makes Abbot almost literally the odd man out, but the three of them just have great scenes together.

Black Bear is certainly an enigma of a movie, as much a mystery about what must be going on inside Plaza’s head during some of her softer and crazier scenes, but if you want to talk about range, this gives her so much material for her demo reel that no one could possibly doubt her as an actor again.

Thomas Vinterberg’s new movie ANOTHER ROUND (Samuel Goldwyn) reteams him with his The Hunt star Mads Mikkelsen for a comedy…. Ish… about a group of four middle aged Danish teachers who decide to hold an experiment to prove a theory that people only reach their maximum effectiveness and creativity when they’re .05% drunk. It starts out innocently enough but soon, the men are drinking heavily at school, leading to horrible and unfortunate side effects. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

Even knowing Vinterberg’s knack for strange and twisted “comedies,” Another Round is definitely on another level, opening with a scene of drunken kids playing a drinking game that gets them so out-of-control drunk and rowdy. We then meet Mikkelsen’s Martin, a history teacher, whose rowdy seniors are so bored by his classroom technique that Martin is put in front of an inquisition of parents who think he’s going to make their kids fail their final exams. Martin’s home life isn’t much better with his wife Anika (Maria Bonnevie) or his own teen sons. Although Martin says he won’t drink when he has to drive, his friend Nikolaj (Magnus Millang) convinces him by announcing his theory about how everyone needs to always maintain a certain percentage of alcohol in their system. Over the course of the rest of the movie, we’re shown the alcohol level of our “heroes,” although most will see their behavior as some kind of synced-up middle life crisis. For Martin, it’s a breakthrough, as he starts feeling more confident and assertive towards his students, even trying to connect with them via their drinking activities, as seen in the opening montage.

Another Round is quite a different beast from The Hunt, because there’s a more humorous tone to the point where I could totally see an American studio trying to remake this with the likes of Will Ferrell and Adam Sandler, which would probably lose a lot of the poignancy of what Vinberberg was trying to achieve here. At one point, he throws in a montage of seemingly drunk world leaders, which is kind of amusing even if it’s not quite so apparent why it’s there. There’s a lot of really bad white guy dancing, too, for anyone who is into that sort of thing.

There is definitely a good amount of grief and sadness to the way this story resolves, although Vinterberg still finds a way to leave Martin in a place of joy with a closing scene that may surprise a lot of people. Another Round is another tremendous feather in the cap of the Vinterberg/Mikkelsen collaboration, and it will be in select theaters this Friday before going to digital on December 18.

Another Round will be in select theaters this Friday and then on digital December 18.

Fast Color director Julia Hart returns with I’M YOUR WOMAN (Amazon), once again co-written with husband Jordan Horowitz. It stars Rachel Brosnahan from The Amazing Mrs. Maisel (which I haven’t seen) as Jean, a woman unable to have a baby with her small-time crook husband Eddie. One night, Eddie brings home a baby for Jean, but then he quickly vanishes and Jean finds herself on the run with a stolen baby and one of Eddie’s accomplices, Cal (Arinzé Kene), and there are bad men wanting to question Jean about her missing husband’s whereabouts.

This is another movie where I really didn’t know what to expect, and having not watched Brosnahan on her award-winning show, I was watching this movie trying to figure out what all the fuss was about. It’s evident from the start that Hart/Horowitz were trying to make a ‘70s-set movie with all the trappings of ‘70s fashion and music, but when you throw in the crime element, it comes across a little too much like last year’s The Kitchen, which wasn’t very good but also wasn’t based on very good source material.

One would presume that the genre elements and a few scattered set pieces, like a shootout at a club, would be the main draw, but it’s almost 30 minutes before we even get any sort of plot, and that’s a big problem. An even bigger problem is that I’m Your Woman just drags for so much of the movie, and it’s pretty obvious that Hart-Horowitz were trying to create a ‘70s movie like some of the films by Scorsese and the movies John Cassavetes made with wife Gena Rowlands. By comparison, I’m Your Woman is stylized almost to a pretentious degree. Brosnahan does show a few glimpses of there being a good actor in there, but the material just really isn’t quite up to snuff. It also doesn’t help the movie to have the baby crying almost non-stop throughout.

Jean eventually pairs up with Cal’s woman Teri (Martha Stephanie Blake), her son Paul and Cal’s father (played by Frankie Faison), and this is when she learns more about Eddie’s life that she doesn’t know about. Eventually, things start to pick up in the last act, but the multiple problems Hart has with maintaining a steady pace or tone only mildly is made up for by her terrific DP and whoever put together the musical score. Essentially, the last 30 minutes of I’m Your Woman does make up for the previous 85 minutes, but it’s going to be very hard for many people to even get through how dull the movie is up until that point.

This is a week with some very fine docs, the first one being Weixi Chen and Hao Wu*’s cinema verité film 76 DAYS (MTV Documentary Films), which goes behind the doors of the Wuhan ICU Red Cross hospital over the first 76 days of the COVID pandemic after it hit the rural area of China. (*One of the film’s co-directors/cinematographers shot the film anonymously.)

Here I thought that Alex Gibney’s Totally Under Control would be the best or maybe even only movie about the pandemic released this year, but here we have a fantastic documentary that captures what it was really like in one Wuhan hospital as it was nearly overrun months before COVID started to rear its ugly head in the States. The film begins in January 23, 2020 and follows a number of cases as we watch the personnel, all decked out in head-to-toe PPE, trying to save lives and keep people calm while trying to struggle with all the stresses that come their way. There’s actually a little bit of humor in a cranky elderly man (clearly with some form of dementia) who keeps wandering around the hospital, frustrating his tenders, but there’s also a very moving story of a young pregnant woman who has contracted COVID, who ends up being separated from her baby after a Cesarian section.

There are moments early in the movie where you can see panic starting to set in as we see how out of control things begin, but the anonymous health care workers soon get things underhand and manage to find a way to deal with the panic that’s setting in. There’s no question that these doctors and nurses – many whose faces we never even see -- are the definition of frontline workers, trying to deal with this unknown virus without all the answers and solutions that have been discovered over the past ten months.

76 Days will open via the Film Forum Virtual Cinema as well as other places presumably.

I’m glad I had Dana Nachman’s DEAR SANTA (IFC Films) to watch after 76 Days, because I don’t think I could have handled another dark or deep movie after that one. This doc is all about “Operation Santa,” the amazing group of volunteers and adopters who receive the letters young kids write to the North Pole and go out of their way to fulfill the kids’ wishes.

I was a big fan of Nachman’s Pick of the Litter, so I’m thrilled to say that Dear Santa is just as wonderful and joyous, starting with a bunch of kids explaining Santa Clause enthusiastically, because they really believe in Jolly Saint Nick. Over the course of the film, Nachman profiles a number of Adopter Elves, who look through the letters written to Santa by unfortunate kids and pick a few to fulfill their wishes. A lot of them are in New York and Chicago where the program has led to a number of non-profits, but Nachman also goes to Chico, California where many of the families from Paradise, the town destroyed by fires in 2018, ended up relocation. One story of an Adopter Elf named Damion is particularly wonderful, since he, like many of those who get involved in the program, are trying to give back and pay it forward.

Operation Santa is such a great program and Dear Santa is such a wonderful movie, I challenge anyone to watch it and not tear up from how big their heart will grow while watching it.

Julien Temple’s doc CROCK OF GOLD: A NIGHT WITH SHANE MACGOWAN (Magnolia Pictures) is pretty self-explanatory from its title, but as someone who was never really a Pogues fan, I was almost as entertained by Temple’s film as I was by Alex Winter’s Zappa about a musician who I actually was a fan of. Temple uses MacGowan’s own narration to tell his story from growing up in Ireland, the early days of punk that led to the Pogues and eventually, mainstream success.

My absolute adoration of well-made music docs is fairly well-known at this point, and you can’t really get much better in terms of music doc makers than Julien Temple, who had his cameras rolling in the early days of punk, captured one of David Bowie’s more interesting mainstream phases and also made a very cool movie about The Clash frontman, Joe Strummer.

Although I never really cared for The Pogues, that’s probably because I didn’t know them from their rowdier days and more from their mainstream success from “Fairytale of New York” but Temple’s movie rectifies that with some amazing footage from the band’s earlier days. Even more impressive is the footage and pictures of MacGowan during the late ‘70s dancing in the audience at Sex Pistols and other punk shows. (Temple even interviewed MacGowan during this period in the ‘70s, then put the footage in the movie.) As MacGowan tells his own story about growing up in Ireland, Temple frequently uses varied animation to recreate the stories being told, and that does a lot to embellish the cartoon nature of MacGowan’s storytelling.

I still think MacGowan is a bit of an asshole -- I’m sure he’d agree with that assessment -- but Temple has found a way into this very difficult musician, sometimes using close friends like Johnny Depp (a producer on the film) and Bobby Gillespie from Primal Scream to try to get MacGowan to open up about as much as he ever might. Crock of Gold is certainly an eye-opening portrait of the Pogues frontman that surprisingly offers something to enjoy even for those who never got into his music, but it also shows another dimension to his many fans. If nothing else, it’s a fine testament to why Temple is one of the best music doc filmmakers.

Magnolia held a bunch of one-night only theatrical screenings on Tuesday and will have more on Thursday, but if you miss those, you can catch it On Demand/digital this Friday. (I also have a really enjoyable interview with Julien Temple over at Below the Line that you should check out.)

A.J. and Jenny Tesler’s doc MAGNOLIA’S HOPE follows four years in the life of their young daughter Magnolia (aka Maggie), who has Rett Syndrome. Maggie’s filmmaking parents talk about noticing her strange behavior and finding out that she had a genetic disorder that makes it harder for children to retain what they’ve learned in terms of movement but also might led to far worse disorders. It makes it almost impossible for her to communicate with her parents, which makes it heartbreaking but also quite inspirational that the parents would allow us into their very own difficult journey to try to get their daughter to use and develop all of the skills she learns by making her practice them every single day. The movie will be available to watch for the month of December on the streaming platform Show and Tell, but it’s such a personal movie and another one where I think it will be hard for many to watch without getting a little teary but more out of joy than sadness.

Also out this week is David Osit’s MAYOR (Film Movement), which follows Musa Hadid, the Christian mayor of Ramallah during his second term of office and determined to make his city a beautiful and dignified place to lived despite being surrounded on all sides by soldiers and Israeli settlements. It will open today at the Film Forum’s Virtual Cinema in New York after winning the Grand Jury Prize at the 2020 Full Frame Documentary Film Festival.

What there’s more? How about Braden R. Duemmler’s WHAT LIES BELOW (Vertical Entertainment), a thriller starring Ema Hovarth from Quibi’s Don’t Look Deeper as Liberty (aka Libby), a teen girl returning from camp only to learn her mother (Mena Suvari) has a hot younger boyfriend named John (Trey Tucker), who Libby soon begins to question whether he’s human. What could possibly go wrong?

I knew I was in trouble when Suvari is picking her daughter up from archeology camp (that’s a thing?) and I misheard her asking her daughter “Any nice digs?” (think about it), especially since Suvari is playing a stereotypically over-sexed cougar, something that becomes far more obvious once we meet her boyfriend that she’s been sexing up at her lake house. There’s certainly a danger of What Lies Below turning into a prequel to a Pornhub video, but thankfully, Duemmler gets away from the inappropriate sexuality inherent in John’s presence and into the weird behavior that gets Libby suspicious.

Sure, maybe calling the movie “My Stepfather is an Alien” would have been more apropos, and there’s elements of the movie that reminded me of the Tom Hanks’ movie The ‘burbs, and not in a good way. Even so, Hovarth, who really looks like Suvari’s daughter, does a fine job holding this together and keeping you invested in how things might pan out, as things get weirder and weirder and the movie eventually transforms itself into a halfway decent and creepy “body horror” flick.

Weird but well-done, What Lies Below is not even close to the worst thriller I’ve seen this year. That might seem like damning praise, but it’s the best I can do for this one.

Debuting on Shudder this Thursday is Justin G. Dyck’s ANYTHING FOR JACKSON (Shudder), a “reverse exorcism” movie in which a seemingly kindly couple, played by Sheila McCarthy and Julian Richings, kidnap a pregnant woman (Konstantina Mantelos) in hopes of getting the spirit of their grandson Jackson, who died in a car crash, and put him into her baby… with the help of demons. What could possibly go wrong? (If you hadn’t guessed, this is the theme of this week’s Weekend Warrior.)

I’ve been thoroughly impressed with the horror delivered by streamer Shudder this year, and Anything for Jackson is no exception. In fact, going over Dyck’s filmography, it’s kind of surprising how decent a horror filmmaker he is, because most of his other movies seem like Hallmark-style Christmas movies? Crazy. There are aspects of Anything for Jackson, written by Keith Cooper, who wrote some of those holiday movies for Dyck. I honestly can imagine the two of them making this movie just to be able to do something different, so they come into the horror realm with tons of fim making experience and easily transition into horror.

At the heart of this movie are McCarthy, Richings and Mantelos, who are all fine actors who do a great job selling the horrors but do just as well during the quieter dramatic moments. Not that there are that many of them, as Dyck/Cooper throw so many absolutely horrific moments at the viewer so that diehard horror fans will not be disappointed. Things shift into another gear when Josh Cruddas joins in as a Satanic cult leader they bring in to help them when they realize they’re out of their league. The results are something akin to Insidiousin terms of the types of demons and ghosts thrown at the viewer.

At times, Anything for Jackson was a little hard to follow, maybe due to its non-linear storytelling, but at least it has a substantial amount of decent replay value, since the demons and kills are so gloriously gory.

Eric Schultz’s dark and trippy sci-fi thriller MINOR PREMISE (Utopia) stars Sathya Sridharan as neuroscientist Ethan, who gets caught up in his own risky experiment involving memory loss when he becomes trapped in his home with his ex-girlfriend Allie (Paton Ashbrook), and he doesn’t remember how they both got there.

For his directorial debut, Schultz has taken the cerebral indie sci-fi film route that we’ve seen in other filmmaking debuts like Shane Carruth’s Primer, Darren Aronofsky’s Pi or Richard Kelly’s Donnie Darko, and if you’re a fan of those movies, you’ll already know if this would be for you or not. This is also the kind of movie that really requires the closest attention and fullest focus, which is not something I’m great at right now. Because of that, I don’t have a ton to say about a film that does a good job pulling the viewer in with its intriguing premise.

Schultz is a pretty decent filmmaker and discovering Sridharan, who has done a lot of single-episode TV appearances but nothing major, is quite a coup since this is quite a solid showcase for the young actor. I wasn’t as crazy about Ashbrook, which makes it for a rather uneven two-hander.

Minor Premise is just fine, and I think some people will definitely like it more than I did. I definitely will have to watch it again when I’m not so distracted by ALL THOSE OTHER MOVIES ABOVE THAT I JUST FUCKING REVIEWED!

It will be in theaters, in virtual cinema, and digital/On Demand this Friday, so check it out for yourself.

And finally…

Director Dennis Dugan of Big Daddy and Happy Gilmore directs LOVE, WEDDINGS AND OTHER DISASTERS (Saban Films), a “Love American Style” rom-com anthology with a cast that includes Maggie Grace, Jeremy Irons, Diane Keaton and more. Grace plays Jessie, a fairly inexperienced wedding plan hired to orchestrate the high-profile wedding of Boston mayoral candidate (Dennis Staroselsky), and then… oh, you know what? I’ll leave the rest of the description to the review portion of our review.

We meet Grace’s character as she and her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend are skydiving, which goes horribly wrong as they end up fighting all the way down and crashing through an outdoor wedding, caught on a viral video that gets her dubbed the “Wedding Thrasher.” Imagine what a PR disaster that would be for mayoral candidate Rob Barton to have her planning his wedding, but Jessie quickly bonds with his fiancé Liz (Caroline Portu) and begins preparations. Meanwhile, Barton’s problematic brother Jimmy (Andy Goldenberg) has gone on a game show called “Crash Couples” (that’s hosted by no less than Dugan himself) and he allows himself to be chained to a Russian “lawyer” named Svetlana (Melinda Hill) who is actually a stripper. They’re willing to stick it out since the winner gets a million dollars.

Surely, that’s more than enough stories, right? Nope. Turns out that Jessie’s main competition to plan the wedding is a legendary caterer named Lawrence Phillips (Irons) who is set-up on a blind date with Diane Keaton, who is blind. Oy vey. Also, there’s Andrew Bachelor as Captain Ritchie, who gives humorous sightseeing tours of Boston via the Charles River in an odd land/water vehicle, but one day, he encounters a young woman with a glass slipper tattoo, and he becomes quite smitten. We’ll get back to him. Maybe. In fact, Duggan spends so much time setting up different stories and relationships without much connection that you wonder whether he can tie things up in the oh-so-predictable way these things normally go.

Although the movie starts out fine, and it’s actually not a bad role for Grace, as soon as Duggan introduces the game show, then we learn that Svetlana (real name Olga) is a tripper connected to the mob and they get involved, things just start going downhill very fast. Also, the idea that Keaton -- who I haven’t seen in a good movie in almost two decades -- would not think twice about playing a klutzy blind person. As soon as she shows up and immediately knocks over one of Phillips’ signature champagne glass fountains, I knew we were in for a very long haul. I didn’t even mention the other storyline involving a musician named Mack (Diego Boneta) whose band Jessie is trying to get to play the wedding – one of the multiple meet-cutes in the movie -- although Mack is squabbling with his bandmate Lenny (Jesse McCartney) who has a new Asian girlfriend who is intruding in their friendship. (I’m sure the fact her name is “Yoni” is meant as as Yoko Ono reference.)

Then on top of that, Dugan steals the gimmick from There’s Something About Mary, by constantly cutting back to Elle King and Keaton Simmons as they’re playing folksy songs in the park. Okay, the fact that Dugan wrote many of those pretty decent songs they perform is pretty impressive.

But the movie is very predictable, especially how it all comes together for the finale, which obviously has to take place at the wedding to which everything has been building up to.

Otherwise, Dugan’s film is maybe 20% an okay movie but the other 80%? Yeesh!! It’s about as romantic as a date with the Marquis de Sade, and it somehow manages to be an equal opportunity offender... in terms of offending blind people, Asians, Jews, Arabs, gay people and even strippers and Russian mafia. It took Dugan 14 years to get this passion project made, and it’s pretty obvious why.

As usual, there were a couple movies I didn’t have time to watch, but not quite as many as the ones I did make time to watch:

King of Knives (Gravitas Ventures) End of Sentence (Gravitas Venture) Billie (Greenwich) Godmothered (Disney+) Wander (Saban Films) Music Got Me Here (First Run Features) Stand! (Fathom Events, Imagination Worldwide) HAM: A Musical Memoir (Global Digital Releasing) In the Mood for Love (4k Restoration)

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest!

#TheWeekendWarrior #Movies #Reviews #ImYourWoman #Mank #Nomadland #CrockOfGold #TheProm #BlackBear #Luxor #AnotherRound #HalfBrothers #AllMyLife

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scrapyardboyfriends · 5 years

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Jenny’s Belated Live Blogging - 17th February 2020

- Brenda...no. I’d rather listen to one of Doug’s gardening lectures than that...

- But can that little fight that Nate and Tracy had be the end of them? Please???! She deserves a real love interest and not just ‘well he’s single currently and connected to the character leavings so...’

- Is it bad that during that Vic scene, I was just sitting there cringing and hoping she wouldn’t actually mention Luke by name? Still hate it.

- I am glad Moira seems to be returning to her old self though. I just hate every time she tries to mention why she did what she did and I’m reminded yet again that they gave her no motivation for it. Of course it wasn’t enough for Cain. But I’m glad she and Matty are on better terms again. Still want them both off of the farm though. It really is time.

- Besides just them fighting over it, it was also nice that Tracy got to sort of drag Nate about the Moira situation and point out that she has every right to be pissed off at him. He should be held accountable for what he did. More than he has been.

- I’m very over the Dawn and Lucas stuff at this point. I just wonder if this story is moving so slowly because they really are trying to be realistic about it or because they just don’t care enough to make more of a thing of it and just decide one way or another. I mean, if she doesn’t get him after all of this, it’s going to be a bit of a waste. But also, I kind of wish she’d just lose him for good already too because I want to move on from all of it.

- Also...Harriet...what was that shirt today with the elbows cut out? Robert “elbow patches” Sugden would be appalled if he were still in the village.

- I’m glad they’re keeping the Free Marlon stuff going with Mandy screaming about it in the village. I have no idea how that van still runs though.

- The Pierce and Vanessa stuff is rough. Compelling though, but brutal. Pierce is such a creep and he’s only getting worse. It was horribly brilliant though for him to find out about the cancer and then use that and his experience with his dad to just twist everything up and make things worse. And god at the end when he was hugging her and kissing her on the cheek as he asked her to bring Rhona to him...*shudders*. He’s so deluded and horrible but Jonathan Wrather is playing it brilliantly. And Michelle is doing great with the scenes too.

- I’m glad Vanessa seems like she is going to get a good health story after all of this though. I hope they really do something with it because they have a good opportunity there. One of the biggest problems with the Vanity relationship has long been that the two characters aren’t as equal in depth and character status and this could be a good story to explore more of who Vanessa is and elevate her character that way. I sincerely hope they don’t waste it.

- the fake drawers comment did make me laugh.

- I don’t know that I’m really looking forward to Charity finding out about all of this though and just getting all of the “babe’s” and the groveling that’s sure to happen. I don’t want Charity to inadvertently make it about herself or rather, I’m nervous as to the way the show will write it because, this is a good opportunity to really give Vanessa some focus.

#belated live blogging #emmerdale

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talix18 · 5 years

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November 22

Today I learned what a Japanese tuxedo is (in terms of tattoos) and that David Lee Roth at 65 has more energy in one hour than I’ve had in my entire life put together. I started listening to his appearance on Marc Maron’s WTF? and spent most of that time laughing or with my jaw hanging open. I lost track of Diamond Dave after his stint as an EMT. Now he’s an entrepreneur with a line of skin products formulated for tattooed skin. Gods bless.

Listening to Dave describe his formal music education made me wonder if that’s not what I ought to go back to school for. Music is the thing I love the most but have little actual education in. I took a beginning theory class in college and some sort of classical music appreciation course in grad school; I even played viola for two years in junior high. I guess by the time I got to college I’d ruled music out as a thing one could start studying. One of my high school friends had been playing cello for her entire life and I remember her missing various activities because she was practicing. She’s now making a living with her cello and I guess her example made me assume it was already too late.

Katelyn and I were talking about going back to school the other night. She’s learning young just how hard it is to make new friends once you’re out of school and I think she’d enjoy it, but we’re both looking at our wallets wondering how to pay for it.

School is one of my happy places. I loved learning, I loved feeling my brain work, I hated studying for exams but loved the feeling of understanding the material. I loved explaining to the class what the teacher meant when they couldn’t parse it and I loved making outline after outline of my study notes until I’d whittled the course down to bullet points. I love having conversations with people who are smarter than I am.

I briefly considered pursuing a Certificate of Higher Learning from Oxford because how cool would it be to be able to say I’m an Oxford alum? The majority of classes can be attended virtually, which is where I admit that I don’t just want to be taking classes by myself. I have a wealth of Great Courses available anytime I want to go ahead and start taking them. I want to Go To School. I want to meet smart people. I want to be surrounded by that energy and excitement again.

Now I’m looking up Eddie Van Halen and learning that he’s been in radiation therapy for his cancer for five years and was just in the hospital after a bad reaction to the drugs. Getting older, as my Gram used to say, ain’t for sissies. Love died for me when Eddie and Val got divorced but I’m glad they’re still friends and I’m thrilled he’s been sober for eleven years. I’m not sure I would have survived a rock and roll lifestyle, but then again, I’d rarely be driving.

(Speaking of the brothers Van Halen, how did I never know their mom was Indonesian? Now I understand why Alex’s eyes have looked vaguely Asian to me for all these years. Apparently Valerie has a cooking show and shared Mama VH’s recipe for something that grabbed Mom’s fancy so I can look forward to that!) (Don’t tell her that I’m a little meh on ham for Thanksgiving. She’s finally cooking Brussels sprouts a new way and I am calling that a win.)

(Mom found a recipe YEARS ago that uses Guinness and had faithfully made her “Relapse Brussels sprouts” every year since. They are fine, but they are mushy, and having seen the way, truth, and light of fresh Brussels sprouts roasted with salt and olive oil, I don’t have the heart to tell her that the Relapse BS just aren’t my favorite.)

This is my fourth day in a row of feeling pretty good, and that’s on less sleep than I normally get. I really hope this is because the medication is working. It’s hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other when you feel like you’re doing it in three feet of water. But I’ve been productive at work and at home and actually considered taking on a work training challenge today. I even started my Christmas shopping! (I hate much of what Jeff Bezos stands for, but goddamn if Amazon doesn’t alleviate most of the Christmas crazy.)

The increased meds are not helping the words come out! I have rare free time in front of a keyboard and nothing to say? Maybe that *is* a sign of increased mental health.

December is flat out insane in my family. Thank goodness my aunt moved away with her 12/4 birthday! There were birthday dinners with Mom (12/2), my aunt, me (12/20), and my dad (12/26). My brother’s birthday is also on the 20th and he’s continued the tradition in the latest generation – my niece will be five on 12/1. Her Aunt Lindsay has decided it’s time we start taking her out for birthday dinners. Basically, the fulcrum of the year tips at Thanksgiving and is just a steep slide into New Year’s. (Which I actually have plans for!)

Christmas shopping is so anxiety-laden for me that I have bad dreams about it all year long. (It’s always the same: December 23rd, I’ve purchased nothing, and the only place open in Walgreen’s.) I can’t enjoy the holiday season until I’m relatively sure what everyone’s getting and honestly, I don’t need any more stuff. Just being together and enjoying yummy food is enough for me. The holidays also mean the Hebert Christmas punch tradition from which I’ve been excluded for this will be the 24th time (I can drink anything I want! I choose not to!). My family are all wine and spirit drinkers and most of the time I look around it, but the holidays really make me miss that fuzzy festive feeling.

So how does one achieve that without using? I need to get back on a meditation routine and I need to make upside-down yoga part of my weekly life. Upside-down yoga always made me a little giddy and we rarely invert in the class I take now. I also need to try on my New Year’s Dress and assess how vigilant I have to be between now and then to make it work. I was having some success with an intermediate fasting routine where I’d restrict my calories for two (non-consecutive) days per week. The beauty of that schedule is that I can maintain it through the holidays. I should have just started this week after the colonoscopy.

But I also had a pretty severe mood crash last year and fasting is not for the unstable. Yes, I’m an emotional eater but you know, I’d rather eat my feelings than wish I could opt out of life. I know how to lose weight; necromancy is above my spell level.

Did I ever mention I was a witch and practiced in a coven for a decade? I’ve just gotten to the 20K word mark and it’s likely I’ll start repeating myself any time now. The coven was made of some amazing people but the actual business of witching just felt too much like work. I went in looking for a spiritual experience and what I got was a delightful social experience. That required a lot of time and 40-mile drives and the stagnation of my 12-Step recovery in that decade was not a coincidence.

Yesterday I got to whip out one of my favorite recovery slogans on a friend: “Religion is for people trying to stay out of hell. Spirituality is for people who’ve already been there.” It doesn’t hold up once you consider religions that don’t have conceptions of hell, but it’s catchy.

(The NaNoWriMo website helpfully breaks down how many words one has to produce per day to get to 50K by next Sunday and it is a little overwhelming. I only need 2235 more today to stay on target! [I am not staying on target.])

Somebody give me a topic! (Give me a beat!) Oh! Yesterday I emptied out one of my spare room dressers, which is something that’s been on my project list for, oh, a long time. All I have to do is patch the hole and that room will be ready to paint, which will let me do the floors in that room and the front. With that done I’ll have my closet annex and yoga station all set up and I will finally live in my entire house. And it should inspire me to do the last three rooms.

I’m excited to set up these last two rooms as functional spaces. I can’t tell you what’s taken me so long to surrender to the idea that I need a room-sized closet extension but look…I have to grab joy wherever I can find it. Waiting for the big stuff to fall into place just takes too long and this bizarre timeline provides plenty of reasons to despair. I don’t understand how people can spend eight hours a day in cubes that aren’t decorated and I am not going to limit myself to one of my life’s compulsions if I have room to store it all. (Vanessa is in Tennessee shouting “You’ll never have room for another person in your house that way!” and I’m shouting back “You and your person bought a new house!”)

I do love my house, though, and getting me out of it is going to take some extraordinary conditions. With any luck I’ll meet a life partner who also loves their house and we can commute and share. I still won’t have enough wall space to hang everything I want to; perhaps a rotating gallery space is required. Says the girl who can’t manage to swap the screens out for storm windows and vice versa every year.

#f**k fifty #nanowrimo

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hunnywrites · 5 years

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Chapter Three: Phone Home

Summary: The town of Hawkins has been turned upside down with the news that Will Byers has suddenly gone missing. Teddi Larsson and Billy Hargrove are gonna get to the bottom of things. Season one AU.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: Boy this is a long one. Billy has also become like the surprise comic relief in this fic and I sort of love it. Hope you enjoy!

Billy and Teddi both stood at the foot of the stairs of the Wheeler’s basement, arms crossed and looking sternly at the four kids that had formed a wall to shield the new girl. Teddi noticed how scared she looked. She was tiny. She almost reminded Teddi of a little stray kitten. Her intimidating demeanor nearly faltered a few times because she wanted to give the poor thing a hug.

Mike held up his hands as if he was trying to keep Billy under control. Like that was even possible. “You have to promise that you won’t freak out before I explain anything. Both of you.” the thing about Mike was that he had never really learned the right way to talk to Billy (or vice versa). Teddi and Mike would butt heads pretty often, Max said it was because they could be so similar. But Mike and Billy could be a dangerous combination. Teddi was positive because relationships between a Sagittarius and a Cancer could be pretty volatile, but they both hated when she brought up her horoscope stuff. At least they could agree on that, she guessed.

So all things considering, Billy was handling this situation really well. He glared down at Mike. “And why would we freak out?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell have you losers gotten yourselves into now?” there was a long pause as the group looked at each other, trying to decide who would be the one to explain. “I’m waiting.” Billy snapped.

Max let out a heavy sigh and stepped forwards. “We were out in Mirkwood, looking for Will,” she began. “She was out in the rain, so we brought her here. She knows something about what happened to Will. That’s why we haven’t told anyone. We can’t. There are bad men after her.” Billy and Teddi shared a look before Teddi turned back to Max.

“What do you mean by bad men?” she asked nervously.

The girl shook her head slowly before raising her fingers to the side of her head, mimicking a gun. “Bad men.” was all she said.

Billy let out a humorless chuckle and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ…” he muttered.

Teddi looked over at him pointedly. “Now do you believe me that something weird is going on?” she almost wondered if maybe this was a prank. Like the kids had gotten some girl from school to come and pretend to be some sort of runaway to freak them out. And while the kids liked to pull the occasional prank on Billy and Teddi, she knew that now wasn’t the time for that sort of thing.

“Are you guys insane?” Billy asked through his teeth. “You can’t harbour some runaway kid in your basement. Especially with Byers missing. You’re gonna get caught and then we’re all gonna be in deep shit.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Chill out, would you? We have this under control. The only reason anyone’s gonna find out is if you can’t keep your mouth shut.” he spat up at Billy. Teddi let out a tired sigh as the two started bickering. She couldn’t really make out what they were saying. Just that Billy kept jabbing his finger in Mike’s direction and Mike standing on his toes to make himself as tall as possible as he shouted back at Billy.

Teddi moved past the group and over to the girl, who was watching the two boys argue with wide eyes. She knelt down in front of her, smiling softly. “Hi. Um, my name’s Teddi. What’s your name?” she didn’t say anything. Teddi couldn’t really blame her. To be lost in the woods and then suddenly finding yourself in Mike Wheeler’s basement while he was screaming about government agents coming to kill him had to be a lot to take in. It was almost too much for even Teddi to handle.

“Her name’s Eleven,” it was Dustin. “She doesn’t really talk much,” he explained with a shrug. “We’ve been calling her El.”

“Eleven?” Billy asked with a scoff. “How the hell can her name be Eleven? That’s a number, not a name,” El remained silent. She held up her arm, pulling her sleeve up to show 011 tattooed in thick black ink on her wrist. Teddi felt her stomach drop. “Jesus Christ,” he repeated. “You little shits are really in it this time.”

“This is just like ET,” Teddi found herself saying. Billy and the kids all turned to look at her. “What? Elliot finds ET in the woods and hides him in his house from his mom and the government. This is totally ET.”

“You can’t call her that,” Mike argued. “That’s totally offensive! She’s not an alien.”

“It’s not offensive! It’s like one of the best movies ever made!”

“Can you two stop arguing about your nerd shit for two goddamn seconds? We have a feral preteen in the basement!” Billy spat. Mike and Teddi shared one last glare before Teddi turned back to El. She was sure that Mike and the gang were taking care of her. As much as four twelve year olds could. But Teddi felt like she needed to find somewhere safe for El to go. She just didn’t know where that was.

“...Should we tell someone? Maybe we should call Hopper, Billy. We can tell him about that screech out in the woods. And I’m sure he’d know what to do about El. We can trust him, can’t we?”

Billy didn’t get a chance to respond, Lucas looked at Teddi with a frown. “Wait, wait. What do you mean that screech out in the woods?”

Teddi didn’t say anything right away. She chewed on her lip and looked over at Billy. He looked put out by this conversation. She almost wondered if he thought there was a chance he was dreaming. Like maybe he had passed out at Steve’s and this was all pretend. His eyes met Teddi’s, and he gave her a nod as if to say it was okay to tell them.

“The night that Will went missing,” Teddi began. “All of this weird stuff happened. Like the power went out at the arcade. And the radio cut out. But it was all at once. Like all of Hawkins went completely dead for a few seconds. And then when Billy was giving me a ride home we heard this...noise out in Mirkwood. It was like a scream but worse. It didn’t sound human or like an animal.”

The group gave each other a knowing look. “The Demogorgon.” Dustin said quietly, his eyes wide.

Billy’s face screwed up into a pissed off, confused expression. “The hell is a Demogorgon?”

The kids and Teddi rolled their eyes at him. “It’s a monster from Dungeons and Dragons,” she explained. She turned to the kids. “What do you mean it was the Demogorgon? How is that even possible? It’s a game.”

Lucas moved over to the table El was sitting at and flipped their game board over. He picked up a small, metal monster. The Demogorgon. “This is what took Will,” Teddi knew that she was looking at him like he was speaking another language. “It’s out there in Mirkwood. El says that it took Will, but he’s alive. He’s hiding from it. She’s gonna show us where he’s hiding tomorrow.” the hopeful looks on each of their faces made Teddi’s heart hurt. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe them. If anyone in town was going to believe them it would be her. But the idea of a monster from a board game coming to life and essentially kidnapping Will was almost too crazy for even Teddi to believe.

“No.” Billy said behind her. “No way. You guys aren’t going out into the woods with some...science experiment to look for Byers.” he crossed his arms firmly across his chest. The kids collectively groaned.

“Billy, come on…” Max pleaded.

“I said no, Max. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you out there with whatever the hell it is that killed Will!”

“He’s not dead!” Mike argued.

“Well I don’t see him around anywhere!” Billy’s voice had taken on a cold tone. “Do you? Do any of you?” the kids wouldn’t meet his gaze. Teddi turned and placed a hand on Billy’s chest, gently pushing him away from Mike.

“Billy…” she said gently. He was breathing heavily. His jaw clenched tight. Billy looked down at Teddi and let out a shaky breath through his nose. “Maybe...maybe we should go. You know they’re gonna go on their own regardless. At least if we’re there we can make sure nothing happens to them, right? And who knows? Maybe El can actually help. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen around here lately.” she reasoned.

There was a tense silence that filled the room. The kids were all still and watching Billy, like they were afraid he might snap again if any of them moved. Billy looked at each of them for what felt like forever before he swallowed thickly and pointed a finger in their direction. “We’ll pick you up tomorrow after school in Teddi’s van. If any of you leave without us, you’re dead. You hear me?”

They all nodded at once. Billy rubbed roughly at his forehead and sighed. “Max, let’s go. We’re gonna be late.” he turned and headed back upstairs without another word. Max muttered her goodbyes and followed after her brother.

“I’ll be there in a second, Max,” she called after the red head. Teddi cast a quick glance in El’s direction. “Mike, are you sure this is a good idea? What if your mom finds her?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Not possible. I could have El and ET down here and my mom wouldn’t have any idea.” Teddi believed him, but she was still nervous about leaving her.

She let out a shaky sigh. “Okay...but you have my number. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

Teddi couldn’t stop thinking about El for the rest of the night. Not on the drive home. Not when Billy got out and walked her over to her window to help her sneak in. Not when he kissed her and said he’d see her tomorrow at school. And not when she finally crawled into bed.

Did she have anyone that cared about her? Parents? Family? Anyone at all? She didn’t even know her own name. And who the hell would want to hurt a harmless little girl? This was all so...much. And to add in the fact that the kids were convinced that Will had been taken by the Demogorgon? How was something like that even possible? How would El know that a monster had taken Will, much less where to find him when over half the town had been out looking for him?

That night Teddi dreamt of Will, El and the Demogorgon.

---

Teddi picked up Billy and Max the next morning on her way to school. Most of the drive was spent with Billy lecturing Max about how stupid her and her friends were for going out into Mirkwood alone. At one point Teddi had flicked on the radio on just to shut him up. The kids had enough on their hands. Max didn’t need to add Billy’s over protectiveness to it.

Now she was on her way to English. She hadn’t seen any sign of Steve, Carol or Tommy yet and she wondered briefly if maybe they had all stayed home with the hangovers they no doubt had after the party.

“Teddi!” someone called from behind her. It was Nancy. She hurried down the crowded hall towards Teddi, her books hugged close to her chest. The nervous expression on her face didn’t do much for Teddi’s already shot nerves. “Hi, um have you seen Barb at all today?” she was trying to keep her voice as steady as possible, but Teddi definitely noticed how she could barely stand still.

“Oh, no I haven’t yet...is everything okay?” she asked with a frown.

Nancy bit her bottom lip and looked up and down the hall as if she expected Barb to magically appear. She finally gave an attempt at a casual smile and shook her head. “Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine. I’m having a weird day, I guess. Barb left the party early last night and I haven’t heard from her.”

Teddi felt a jolt of panic shoot through her chest. Will, Benny and now Barb? No. Barb was fine. There was no reason to think that anything bad had happened to her. And she especially couldn’t let Nancy know that she had any concerns. “Well, it was cold last night you know? And then with her cutting her hand...maybe she just stayed home sick? I mean I nearly stayed home myself.” she said with a small laugh that she hoped sounded convincing. It wasn’t so much for feeling sick reasons though. It was more for Mike Wheeler has a runaway in his basement reasons.

Nancy nodded and gave her a thin smile. “Right. Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll call her after school. Thanks, Teddi. I’ll see you later?” Teddi nodded and gave her a small wave and the two parted ways. Teddi spent her morning wondering if she, Billy and the kids would find Barb along with Will out in the woods. Her stomach wouldn’t stop churning.

When lunch came around Billy was out in the parking lot, leaning against Teddi’s van with a cigarette between his lips. Teddi opened the back doors, hopped up inside and let out a heavy groan. Billy only looked on with a raised eyebrow. “Nany can’t find Barb.” she huffed out.

“...Who the fuck’s Barb?” Billy asked with a blink.

Teddi rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. “Nancy’s best friend? The red head that’s always with her?”

“Oh, yeah. The lesbo...what about her?”

“She’s not at school! Nancy said she left early last night and she hasn’t heard from her since. What if something got her like it did Will?”

Billy flicked the rest of his cigarette away and hopped up into the back of the van next to her. He was giving her that amused grin he usually gave her when he thought she was being ridiculous. “Teddi, babe...you can’t actually believe that there’s some monster out in the woods.” they looked at each other for a long moment, like Billy was waiting for her to laugh and admit that she was only kidding around with him.

That wasn’t going to happen. He knew that it wouldn’t. “Billy. Listen to me. I know that those kids have wild imaginations, okay? I know I have a wild imagination. But they don’t lie. And they don’t make things up,” Teddi looked around to make sure that no one was listening to them before lowering her voice. “And now with Eleven showing up? I’m even more willing to believe them. I’ve played D&D with them more times than I can count. I know that they know the difference between the real world and make believe.”

Billy knew that Teddi knew those kids better than anyone in Hawkins. He knew that if he considered all of the facts that had piled up since Will went missing that he could admit that something weird was happening. But if he did that then he knew Teddi would only worry more. “...Whatever. I still don’t think we’re gonna find anything out there.” he muttered.

Billy ended up convincing Teddi to skip her last period. He said it would do her some good to just relax instead of sitting in class worrying about monsters and calculus. She didn’t really have the energy to argue. So they sat in the back of her van smoking and listening to music until the bell at the end of the day rang. They were headed over to the middle school when Tommy and Carol stopped them. “Have you seen Harrington anywhere?” Tommy asked.

“Not in a few hours, why?” Teddi asked. While Tommy and Carol had nearly permanent smirks on their faces, Teddi was surprised to see how annoyed the couple looked now.

Carol looked around to make sure none of the other students walking past them could hear their conversation. “Nicole said that she ran into Byers in their little geek den and said that she saw he had photos of us at Steve’s last night.” she sneered.

Teddi frowned. Had it been Johnathan that she had seen in the bushes? What in the hell was Johnathan Byers doing hiding in Steve Harrington’s bushes? “What? No way. What was he even taking pictures of?”

“Who cares?” Tommy asked, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. “That freak thinks he can spy on us and get away with it? We’re gonna go find Steve and meet Johnathan out by his car. There’s no way he’s getting away with this. You guys in?”

Billy looked like the idea intrigued him. But before he could agree, Teddi stepped in. “We can’t. We have a thing. Call me and tell me what happened, okay Carol?” she didn’t give her time to respond. She grabbed Billy by the arm and practically dragged him over to the middle school’s parking lot. The last thing they needed was Billy, Tommy and Steve getting into a fight with Johnathan and the four of them getting detention or even suspended.

“The hell is that little weirdo up to now?” Billy muttered. He angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket as he fell into step with Teddi. “His brother goes missing and he’s spying on us? What the fuck’s that about?”

“I have no idea. We so can’t focus on that right now, okay? We have bigger issues. Do you see them anywhere?” she stood up on her toes to try and catch a glimpse of Max and her friends. Billy nudged her with his elbow and pointed. The kids were waiting at the school’s entrance. Mike was looking at his watch and tapping his foot impatiently.

“Finally!” Mike said, throwing his hands up. “What the hell took you so long? We’re supposed to meet El at 3:15! She’s gonna get nervous if we’re late!”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Would you calm down? She’ll be fine! You just can’t wait to see your girlfriend.”

Mike glared over at his best friend and Billy rolled his eyes. “Get in the van, shitbirds. You can argue on the way there. I have better things to do than drive you and baldy around the woods.”

Max gave her brother an unimpressed look. “Better things to do? Like what? Go home and lift weights in the mirror?” Billy shot her a look while Teddi tried her hardest not to laugh. Someone had to act like they were on Billy’s side.

Billy jabbed an angry finger at Teddi’s van. “Get in the van.” he repeated. Max rolled her eyes dramatically and the kids followed dutifully. Teddi was helping each of them hop into the back when Steve came jogging over. Teddi stifled a groan.

“Wheeler, have you seen your sister anywhere?” Steve asked Mike, turning to scan the parking lot once more as if Nancy he’d suddenly be able to spot her.

Mike made a face. “How the hell should I know? Do I look like her babysitter?”

Steve frowned. He looked slowly at Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Max before turning slowly to Teddi and Billy. To say he looked confused was an understatement. “...Why are you guys hanging out with a bunch of ten year olds?” he asked.

“We’re twelve, asshole.” Mike spat. Steve recoiled a bit from him, muttering out a “jesus” before looking at Teddi with wide eyes. Billy let out an annoyed grunt and picked Mike up, tossing him into the back of the van before harshly slamming the doors shut. He stood in front of them as if he were trying to keep the kids in and Steve out.

“We’re babysitting,” he said cooly. “Carol and Tommy are looking for you. Something about Byers being a pervert in your bushes.” Steve only looked at Teddi as if he were asking if Billy was telling the truth. She smiled thinly at him and nodded.

“Right…” Steve said, looking between his two friends suspiciously. “Okay...I’ll go find them then. I’ll see you guys later…”

“Bye, Steve!” Teddi called quickly, rushing around to the driver’s seat and hoping in. Billy climbed in with an irritated grunt and crossed his arms. Teddi turned and fixed a stern look on Mike. “You gotta stop cursing, Wheeler. You’re twelve.”

Mike only pointed an accusing finger in Billy’s direction. “He curses all the time!”

“I’m a fucking adult, I can do what I want.” Billy said firmly.

“You’re seventeen,” Teddi and Max reminded him. Billy only scoffed, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out his cigarettes. Teddi yanked the pack out of his hands and threw them up onto the dashboard. “No smoking around the preteens.”

Billy glared back at Mike, his expression falling when he finally took him in. “Hey, what happened to your chin?” he asked, nodding at the large cut. Teddi whirled around in her seat with wide eyes.

Mike covered his chin quickly and shook his head. “What? Nothing.”

“Are those little assholes still giving you guys shit?” Billy asked. The party remained silent, but it answered his question. Troy Walsh and James Dante had been terrorizing Mike and his friends ever since they started middle school. Both Billy and Teddi had offered to scare the little shits off for them on a few occasions, but the kids were too proud to take up the offer. “You guys need to start sticking up for yourselves. If you stick up to a bully, they’ll know you’re not scared of them and they’ll leave you alone.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Lucas asked. “Hold him down and kick him in the nuts?”

Billy only shrugged. Four pairs of eyes were now trained on Teddi as if asking for permission. She let out a heavy sigh. “...I’m not really one for violence, but Troy could probably use a good kick to the balls,” she mumbled. With a small huff she grabbed Billy’s cigarettes, rolled down his window and tossed the pack at him. “You can have one.”

The pleased grin on Billy’s face remained there for the entire drive to the Wheeler’s, then when they picked up El, and didn’t go away until Teddi parked at the edge of Mirkwood. “The first sign of any weird or dangerous anything, we’re out of here. You hear me? And I don’t want any of you out of my sight.” Billy said sternly.

Dustin saluted him. “Yes sir.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“...Sorry.”

The kids piled out of the van, Billy and Teddi close behind. “Alright, go...sniff Will out or whatever it is you do,” Billy said, waving a hand at El. Mike and Teddi shot him dirty looks. Eleven didn’t really seem to understand the joke. She only turned and walked off alongside Mike. Billy looked over at Teddi and blinked. “What’d I say?”

“She’s not a dog, Billy. She’s a little girl.” Teddi scolded.

“...You know, Max told me she can move things with her mind,” he said with an amused grin. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Teddi only frowned, looking ahead of them to where El was. “...What do you think happened to her? Like, say she can move things with her mind. Or somehow magically track down Will. Where do you think she came from?”

“A school for kids with superpowers?” Billy offered with a laugh.

“You’re so funny. Of course she’s part of the X-men. Why didn’t I think of that?” wherever it was that Eleven had come from, Teddi had a feeling it was a little more sinister than Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. “...What do you think is gonna happen once all of this is over? I mean, she can’t live in Mike’s basement forever.”

“But I’m guessing she can live in your basement with you?” He asked.

“What? No. I wasn’t thinki-”

“Of course you were. It’s just who you are, Ted. But she won’t be anymore safe with you. Not with your parents around,” Teddi looked down at her boots and frowned. He was right. She knew he was right. “Look,” he sighed. “When all of this is over...if we do actually manage to find Will, we can figure out what to do with the kid, okay? We can tell Hopper about her. He’ll know what to do,”

He looked over at her, smirking and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Teddi Bear. Turn that frown upside down,” he teased. Teddi shot him an unamused look and gave him a playful shove. Billy let out a laugh and fell back into step next to her. There was a short, comfortable silence before he spoke up again. “...Seriously though, what do you think Byers was taking pictures of? Think he was perving on Nancy?” he asked, wriggling his eyebrows. “Then again, the guy probably doesn’t have it in him.”

“I doubt he was perving. He’s not you,” Teddi teased. “...I don’t know what he could’ve been taking pictures of. Or why he was even out there,” even if he had been out looking for Will, what could he have possibly seen in Steve’s backyard? Maybe Billy was right. It was hard for her to imagine, but maybe Johnathan was just peeping at Nancy. It was obvious he had a thing for her. “...Maybe he was taking pictures of you.” Teddi suggested, barely able to keep her laughter in.

Billy shot her a glare and shoved her back playfully. “Real fuckin’ funny, Larsson.” he muttered, cracking a smile at the sound of her laughter. The spent the next few hours like that, joking around with each other and the kids. Anything to try and lighten the mood. Eventually it started to get dark, and Billy tried to persuade the group to turn back.

“No! El says we’re close. We can’t go back now!” Mike said.

“Wheeler, your parents are gonna start freaking out if we don’t get you home soon,” Billy argued. “We’ll just have to start up again tomorrow, okay?”

“We’re not turning around!” Mike spat. Eleven took Mike by the wrist and pulled him along behind her as she broke into a jog. Teddi, Billy, Max, Lucas and Dustin were all quick to follow. There was a clearing up ahead that Eleven was headed towards. It was the Byers’ house.

“Here.” she said, coming to a stop. The group all looked at each other.

“Yeah, this is where Will lives…” Mike said unsurely.

“Hiding.” Eleven clarified.

“No...no, this is where he lives,” Mike argued. “He’s missing from here, understand?”

Billy only looked over at Teddi with a raised eyebrow. “...How the hell did she know where Will lives?” he asked. Teddi shook her head. Maybe there really was something special about Eleven. She was much more willing to believe that she could move things with her mind.

Lucas let out an annoyed sigh from beside Billy. “What are we doing here?” he asked.

“She said that Will is hiding here,” Max said in an annoyed tone. “El, how’s that possible? I mean they definitely would’ve found him by now if he’s hiding at his house.”

“She’s probably making it up!” Lucas argued with her. “That doesn’t make sense! She had us out here walking around all day for nothing! I told you guys she doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about! I’m with Billy and Teddi. We need to call the cops and tell them everything that’s happened.”

Teddi had moved around the boys and had an arm around Eleven. The girl was looking on helplessly as the boys argued. “Hiding.” she repeated, looking up at Teddi.

“We’re gonna find him, okay? You just gotta wait for the boys to stop...being boys.”

Mike and Lucas had broken into an argument and Dustin was trying his best to intervene and calm his friends down. The three boys voices had risen, and it was nearly impossible to make out anything they were yelling at each other. “Hey!” Billy snapped. “Will you guys shut the hell up for a minute?” the three boys glared up at him. He only pointed out at the road. The sound of police sirens was getting closer and closer before a police cruiser and a fire truck went whizzing past them. “Not to state the obvious, but I don’t think that’s a good sign,” Mike was off and running. Lucas and Dustin were close behind. “Goddammit, I said no one leaves my sight!” Billy boomed, following after them down the road.

Teddi looked down at Eleven and Max and let out a sigh. “See? Boys.” the three girls followed after the group as fast as they could. They would never be able to keep up with the police cars or fire truck, but Teddi knew where the street would end. The quarry. Her heart was beating so fast she was worried that it might explode.

Hopper was there. He was standing at the edge of the water. While Teddi was relieved to see the chief, she knew that that couldn’t be a good sign. Billy pulled the boys behind the fire truck as to not be seen by and of the adults. There were two men in the water, pulling something out along with them. A body.

“That’s not Will. It can’t be.” Mike said quietly.

It was. There was no doubt that it was Will Byers being pulled out of the quarry. He was so small. Teddi couldn’t get over how small he looked. Was this really it? This was how Will Byers died? It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve any of this. Teddi wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. But she couldn’t. Not in front of the kids.

“Mike…” Eleven said softly, reaching to touch his shoulder.

Mike whirled around and smacked her hand away. He glared at her. “Mike? Mike what? You were supposed to help us find him alive! You said he was alive! Why did you lie to us? What’s wrong with you? What is wrong with you?”

Teddi stepped out in front of El. “Mike, stop it. This isn’t her fault, okay? This isn’t anyone’s fault.”

“Yeah, kid. Back off, huh?” Billy said lowly, warily eyeing Eleven. The poor girl looked scared to death. Mike scowled up at the both of them before turning and running off back up the road. “Mike! Come back here!” he yelled. It was no use.

Teddi wrapped her arm around Eleven again, pulling the girl close to her. “Just let him go...I think maybe we should all get out of here. I think it’s time to get you guys home.” her voice was coming out thick. She was doing everything she could not to cry. Dustin and Lucas couldn’t seem to pull their eyes away from the quarry. Max was crying. She threw her arms around Billy, who somewhat awkwardly did his best to comfort her.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, we should go before the cops see that we’re here.” he said quietly. Eventually they got the four kids to head back to the van. It was a quiet ride home to say the least. Teddi felt like she couldn’t get her bottom lip to stop trembling. The image of Will’s body being pulled out of the water played over and over in her mind.

Maybe Billy was right. Maybe Hawkins was just a shitty place where shitty things were always happening. She just wished that Will hadn’t fallen victim to it.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x oc

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laylasantcs · 5 years

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Name: Layla Santos ( Jeanine Mason ) Age: 28 Years Old Pronouns: She/Her Hometown: Phoenix, Arizona Time lived in Atlanta: 6 Months Occupation: Waitress ( Cartel Fighter ) Character Quote: “ I thought I saw the devil, This morning, Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue.”

@atlanta-rpgstarters

Okay so, Layla has a tortured past and has triggers including, death, cancer, military, PTSD and cartel? She’s broken I’m sorry.

Layla grew up an orphan after her parents were lost in a car crash. Born to two Mexican citizens who had taken up home in America, when they were suddenly gone it meant that Layla was left with no one to care what happened to her and sure enough she was placed in the system. For whatever reason nothing stuck. It wasn’t that she had a terrible time in the homes, there was never any of the abuse or the horror stories that you sometimes heart of, but she didn’t find a home. With each new home came a new school and the blonde soon learnt to look after herself because there was no one else that she could lean on. Layla continued to bounce around the system until she was around 14 years old, and she actually managed to find a pretty decent older couple she didn’t hate - and even better they didn’t mind her. Four four years Layla stayed with the De Rosa couple, who had never been able to have children of their own and Layla had ended up being their unofficial daughter. Though she was never adopted the two of them became like her parents, and she let herself feel connected to two people for the first time in her life

It seemed however that Layla’s happy ever after was to be short lived. It was the winter of 08 when her pop’s feel sick. Though she had been in her first year of college she immediately moved home to help her mom take care of him. No matter how much they tried though they lost Pops a few months later. Layla had been so wrapped up in making sure that her Pop was okay that she failed to notice that her mom had been deteriorating before her too. Just two weeks after the funeral of her Pop’s Liliana came home to find her mom collapsed on the floor and the two women were rushed to the ER. Layla ’s mom was diagnosed with stage four brain tumor and much to Layla protests she declined treatment, there wasn’t anything that could be done to save her, it was only going to delay the whole process. Day’s later 19 year old Layla held her moms hand as she passed in the early morning of the hours and Liliana lost the only family that she had ever known. It didn’t take long for Layla to begin to spiral, drinking, sleeping all day, arguing with strangers who wanted nothing more than to help - it was safe to say that she had hit rock bottom. She knew that she had to change though, she just didn’t know how. On her way to top up on wine and snacks with her fake ID Layla eye was caught by a gathering of people at the front of a store. It was a recruitment stall for the army. Hovering in the background Layla listened in to what the woman was saying before she scooted off to do her own research. It was perfect, it was everything she needed, a purpose, structure, something that was going to give her guidance and set her on the right path. Spending the weekend at the welcome event Layla was sold and signed up for the United States Army.

With Layla out of the house though, and with her never officially adopted she didn’t have any hold on the house that had been home for the past 5 years and whilst she was away at basic training the home was sold - and there was nothing left to show for it except a few boxes that were sent to base. Though she loved the army all sense of home was well and truly lost for her. She loved the new name she had made for herself, and she fit in well, but the constant moving that mirrored her child hood rooted her sense of wondering even further. It seemed, for a short while at least the world was going to be kind to Layla and she found a new family, they might not have been blood, but they had their flag on their shoulder and that was enough for them. Her switch to medic wasn’t a planned one but when she was required to patch up her pal or let him bleed she got a taste for it. Though she was already trained Layla headed back to base where she trained and she was great at it. Good at keeping her emotions close to her chest, and her breathing steady she was the perfect medic, she could get in and get out without letting anyone know just how much trouble they may have been in.

At 25, the inevitable fall she had been expecting came when she was involved in an explosion whilst on tour, whilst she made it out, along with a few of the other’s that had been in her vehicle most of her unit was lost. The bumps and bruises heeled, but she never did, not a standard where they were happy to let her serve and she was medically discharged with PTSD. Though she would deny it if you asked her - this was her turning point. Layla had always had hope but she was tired of loosing and picking herself up, the world had done nothing for her, and she was angry, she was angry for all of the time she had put in and that her happiness could never last for more than a few years. She was done with America, and decided to make her way home to Mexico, she had never been there, but maybe she would find something, just maybe.

As it turned out, something found her. She had been mid bar fight and winning when she was hauled into a van by two beefy looking individuals and before she knew it she was in the front of the Castillo Cartel, she was informed at that point she’d taken on two of their top members, and she was going to have to pay for the hospital bills she had run up. What was supposed to be a few jobs turned into a few more, and the next thing she knew - she was in. It didn’t take anyone long to figure out that people would pay to watch a mere girl of 5′3 beat the crap out of grown men, and it beat becoming a mule like most of the other girls like her. Fights with accidental death as a result became next to nothing, and for years now she’s been known for her fights, bruised knuckles and her pretty face has taken several hits.

Around six months ago, one of her fights went wrong, and a very important man ended up in a comma - she never got told who she was fighting or who to go easy on but the son of a police chief had taken her on. He lost. To keep his prize possession of out the reach of the police the leader of the Castillo Cartel shipped her off to the Georgia to stay with one of his cousins, he likes to know she is safe, and being watched, far enough away no one would really think to look for her but close enough he can send for her in the higher paying fights.

#death tw #violence tw #intro.#atgaintro

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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Mirabile Visu

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Chapter: 14/15 (technically it’s chapter 13/14 since there was a two part chapter, but you get the idea)

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you so much for your support and amazing feedback! It truly means the world! Oh my gosh, guys, we are so close to the end! Next chapter is the final one. The epilogue! I can’t believe it! I’m both excited and sad! Also to clarify, Jack refers to Sorina jokingly as “Van Helsing” because it’s the last name she’s used for nearly all her life--since she grew up with Agatha’s family. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I’d love to know your thoughts! I hope you enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Thirteen

Larpool Lane Cemetery

Present Time

Dental records. That's how far gone Zoe's body was when the coroner went to finally identify her. She felt horrible for thinking so, but Sorina was glad she didn't have to identify the remains. That would've been a task the halfling might've not been ready for. But they purchased a beautiful urn-purple, Zoe's favorite color-and bought a plot of land in the graveyard. A nice place that looked towards the trees. She would've liked that. And a simple, granite gravestone engraved with her name, date of birth and death, along with the words Beloved Aunt and Niece. Nothing fancy. Nothing that stood out. Simple. Like Zoe.

"I'm not leaving those stupid fabric flowers, Zoe deserves better."

Sorina stood over the tombstone, her eyes red as she clutched a bouquet of freshly cut daffodils in her right hand. Somehow, she had refrained from crying, but it was obvious that she was close to doing so. On either side of her, her parents stood. Agatha wore a black dress, something she had pulled from Zoe's closet. She felt a little guilty for wearing something that belonged to her late, great, great niece, but Sorina was fine with it. Dracula seemed rather distant as he stood close to his daughter, almost as if he was trying to listen out for something.

"Leave them, we can always replace them with more if the caretakers remove them."

Jack met Sorina's gaze, his mouth forming a small, encouraging smile. Since Zoe's death, he hadn't really left her side. While Dracula's and Agatha's home was in the remodeling process after The Foundation had damaged it, the four of them had been staying in what was now technically Sorina's home. She hadn't decided whether or not she wanted to sell it. From what any of them could gather, the halfing had yet to step foot into her aunt's room. He wasn't sure how long it would take before she had it in her to do so.

"I know this isn't exactly the ideal funeral." Agatha began, one hand absentmindedly resting on her still flat stomach. "But I'd like to say a few words, if that would be alright with you, Sorina?"

Her daughter nodded, clutching the flowers to her chest.

"I didn't know Zoe for very long. Only a few days, in fact. But I know how important she was to you and how she impacted your life as much as she did. You both had each other since her birth. She grew up around you and you, in a sense, around her. As a mother-your mother, it does my heart good knowing that someone was there to care for you, to love you, while your father and I were gone. I'll never be able to properly thank her for that. I'll still say it. Zoe, I am, and will always be, eternally grateful for everything you've ever done for my daughter. I wish I could have known you better, but I am glad we met. Even though it wasn't for very long."

Agatha took a step back, her eyes lifting from the grave to look at the others. Sorina remained silent, her own gaze still casted down at the slab of stone. It was only when Jack cleared his throat the silence was broken once more.

"I guess I'll go next." He swallowed, his voice already thick with emotion. "I wouldn't be where I am now without Zoe. When we first met, I was just a small fish in a big pond. I'd gotten into graduate school, but I honestly didn't know where to go from there. It wasn't until Dr. Van Helsing came to one of my lectures and spoke...something just clicked and I knew I had to reach out to her."

The young man smiled, shaking his head. "That's when I started working under her and then coincidentally met you." Sorina finally looked up, captured by Jack's attention. "If it hadn't been for Zoe's, I wouldn't have been lucky enough to know you. And I can't even imagine life without that. So thank you, Zoe. Thank you for everything."

A gentle breeze blew, brushing against the yellow flower petals. Sorina still had yet to say anything, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Agatha glanced at her husband, giving him a knowing look. Dracula's lips pursed, clearly not wanting to engage with a speech. Sure, Zoe had cared for his child, but he didn't see the need to make a statement on her behalf. But then again, there was Sorina. If anything, he needed to do it for her.

"Alright," he exhaled, Agatha frowning when he did so. "What to say. Well, as Agatha put it, I appreciate what you did for my Sorina. We had our differences, you and I. After all, you did try to…" His wife's dark glare made him reconsider his words. "You loved her, which is as much as I can ask of someone. Evidently, you provided protection too, seeing as what she is-what we are. And even though you apparently brought him into the picture…" His eyes narrowed at Jack. "I suppose you deserve a round of thanks. So thank you. For being there for my daughter."

Once more silence fell upon the group and Sorina could feel the other three pairs of eyes focus on her. Chewing on her bottom lip, a thumb pressing a small indent into one of the stems, she sucked in a sharp breath. Part of her wanted to turn away. To leave and pretend this wasn't happening. But her feet remained rooted to the ground as if paralyzed by some unseen force.

"I've known you since you were born." The words trembled as she spoke. "You grew up with me. We laughed, fought, and cried. I hated you, but I loved you more. When you had nightmares as a child, I let you sleep with me. I promised you I'd always be there, no matter what. And I tried, Zoe. I really, really did."

Tears began to stream down her cheeks, but no one moved to touch her. She was grateful for that.

"We both knew the end was coming. When you were diagnosed with cancer. I just didn't think…" She paused, trying to recollect herself. "None of us saw that this was going to be the end. But I'm glad I was there when it happened. That you weren't alone…" The halfing gave a wet smile, her cheeks glistening in the sunlight from her tears. "I'll never forget you, Zoe. No matter how many decades, centuries, millenniums I live through, you'll always be in my heart. I love you."

With the utmost care, Sorina bent down and placed the flowers over the gravestone. She stayed there for a moment to take it all in. It didn't register that her mother and Jack had left her side, making their way back to the car when she felt her father's hand on her shoulder. The halfling stood up, meeting her father's eyes.

"She's gone." He said quietly, his daughter caught off guard by his words. "I've been listening and she's no longer here suffering."

"What do you mean?" Sorina questioned, brow furrowed in misunderstanding. "Of course she's dead. We all saw her!"

"I mean, she's not trapped here," the vampire explained. "Sometimes the dead are restless. Stuck here forever in this plane of existence. If you pay attention, you can hear them." His stare remained locked on hers. "Focus, Sorina. Listen."

Though wary of her father's words, Sorina closed her eyes and listened closely. At first, she heard nothing, just the wind in the trees. Then, ever so softly, the moaning began. The calling. Corpses begging for their freedom. Fear struck her in the heart and she pressed against Dracula.

"What...who…" She stumbled, looking around wildly. How she hadn't experienced this before, she was unsure. She'd visited cemeteries throughout the decades. Year after year of losing loved ones. But perhaps she closed herself off to the idea of death and what lay beyond its gates. After all, she'd never experience the end herself. "I don't understand…"

"It's more apparent at night," Dracula responded. "But they can't hurt you. You needn't be afraid."

Sorina did her best not to think about which of her relatives were forced to become the undead, rotting away in their coffins under the surface. Running a hand through her long, thick hair, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm tired of losing people that I care about," she mumbled. "I want it to stop. To be done with it once and for all." Sorina glanced at her father. "Swear to me that you and Mum will never leave again. No matter what happens, we'll be a family. That if you go, you take me with you. And Jack too."

Of course, as much as he'd like to admit it, he wasn't keen on the idea of taking Jack anywhere. Getting used to the fact still that Sorina was no longer a little girl, but a grown woman was hard enough. Knowing that she was romantically involved with someone was much more difficult. But he knew she needed to hear those words, and knew that deep down he truly meant them.

"No matter what," he swore, pulling his daughter into a tight embrace. "We will always be a family." A promise he intended on keeping this time.

Dracula's and Agatha's Home

Six Months Later

"Don't I have any say in on how my child's nursery looks?"

Agatha's lips pursed as she eyed Sorina from her rocking chair, both hands resting on her swelling abdomen. Her daughter had taken to becoming the interior designer of the room, not giving her mother much freedom to add her input. It had been decided that the theme would be the night sky. Sorina, of course, had gone with the idea as the moon and the stars were the very first glimpses she saw of the outside world.

"Trust me, Mum, in the end, you're going to like it." Sorina promised, adding another brush stroke of dark, navy paint to the wall. "And put on your mask. The fumes can't be good for the baby."

Her mother frowned at her bossy tone, but did as she said. It was rather bothersome how overprotective everyone seemed to be over her. Dracula rarely letting her get up off her feet to do anything. Had he forgotten she'd been pregnant once before-and as a human at that? Nevertheless, for her own sanity, she allowed them to wait hand over foot on her. Sometimes she secretly liked it.

"Jack, if you make the slightest nick in my crib, I will make you regret the day you were born."

The screwdriver dropped from the young man's hand as he met the vampire's dark glare. Instead of ordering a pre-designed cradle, Dracula wanted to replicate the same one he'd made for Sorina well over a century ago. It was a nostalgic idea that Agatha really liked. But of course, it would've been a lot better if her husband didn't continually threaten her daughter's poor boyfriend.

"Leave him alone, Dad. He's just trying to help!" Sorina threw a look at her father over her shoulder. "This is supposed to be a bonding exercise."

"Would it be more helpful if I just brought the blankets and things into the room?" Jack suggested, desiring to be anywhere but beside the vampire. "I think there were packages delivered earlier."

"Just mind the walls," Dracula exhaled loudly. "And don't trip, I don't want to spend another several hours at the clinic because you got a concussion."

It'd only happened once, just a few weeks back. Jack had been helping move some things when he tripped over the living room rug. He hit his head pretty hard, scaring Sorina the most. But in the end, after a long visit to the hospital and having to stay awake for twenty four hours, everything had been fine. Though Dracula hadn't exactly forgotten the minor "inconvenience" it caused him.

"I'll come and help you, Jack." Sorina exclaimed, frowning at her father as she set the brush down into the pail. "There can't be that many."

As the two disappeared down the steps, Agatha turned her attention to her husband. "Why must you be so rough with him?" She inquired irritably. "The boy has done absolutely nothing to you."

"He's dating my daughter," Dracula replied with a shrug, focused on the legs of the crib. "I'm allowed to disapprove of my child's significant other. It's nothing personally, really. I just want what's best for her."

"What's best for her is being happy," his spouse commented. "And Jack makes her happy."

"And I want her to be happy," the count agreed. "Just not with Jack." He seemed to pause for a moment as if in deep thought. "Or with anyone really. There is nothing wrong with being single. I was so for centuries."

"But now you have me," Agatha added. "And I'd like to think that perhaps I was the best thing that ever happened to you?"

"Well yes, you and Sorina," he agreed. "But that's different."

"How so?"

It was a good question, he'd give her that. Smirking, he stood up and made his way over to her. Agatha eyed him curiously as he rested his hands on either arm rest of the rocking chair.

"For starters, you are positively attractive, in both appearance and wit. You had the audacity to try to kill me." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to her's. Agatha chuckled, smirking softly. "And you are quite talented in your bed." His wife snorted, swatting at him. "You know it's true."

"Let Sorina decide what's good for her and what isn't," the former nun replied. "It's her life after all." She smiled fondly and took a hold of his hand, pressing it down where the baby just kicked. "Besides, we have enough on our plate with this little one coming. Our daughter is a smart girl, she'll do the right thing."

Dracula stared at his wife, his thumb gently caressing over the spot where the infant had moved. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew it was the truth. He had to let Sorina make her own decisions-despite it being so hard to watch.

"Fine," he exhaled. "But if he breaks her heart, I won't hesitate to kill him."

"And I'll help you dispose of the body," Agatha added lightheartedly. "Now, can you move that dresser just a tad to the right? It's blocking part of the window."

XXX

Jack noticed the look of concern plastered on Sorina's face as they stared down at the many parcels sitting by the door. He knew that expression all too well-she had misplaced something. Pursing her lips, she mentally counted the boxes to make sure of it. The halfling was certain now. One of them was in fact missing.

"It's the breast pump." Sorina frowned, pinching the brim of her nose. "I specifically ordered that special for her."

"Not that it is any of my concern, but your mum's going to...nurse?" Jack ventured hesitantly. "Isn't she worried about...you know…"

"Fangs?" The halfling chuckled, an amused expression crossing her features. "Exactly why I ordered the damn thing in the first place. Apparently I did a number on her and I don't think she's going to let me forget it anytime soon." Scratching the back of her head, Sorina sighed. "I don't know where it could've gone. I'm sure I put on the correct address."

"Is it possible it's at the house?" And by the way Sorina tensed up, he knew he didn't need to specify further. "I can drive by and see if it was dropped off there. You can just stay here and…"

"No." She cut him off abrupt, waving her hand. "No...I'll go with you. It's been awhile anyway."

"Are you sure?" He asked, making sure her eyes locked onto his. "Sunny, if you are uncomfortable. I can go alone. It's probably sitting out front anyway. It'd just take a second."

She shook her head and forced a smile. "I need to get out of the house anyway. The smell of paint gave me a headache. Some fresh air would do me some good."

He wasn't about to argue with that. Digging around in his pockets, he produced his car keys. His ride was nothing special-a beat up, old yellow buggy he'd gotten used as a graduation present. But it did its job fine. Once Sorina had climbed in on the passenger's side, he started it up and pulled onto the road.

"I was thinking we could go out to that little Italian place you like for dinner." The young doctor suggested, attempting to stir up some conversation. "Maybe go see a movie afterwards?"

Sorina merely stared out the window, the wind blowing through her dark hair. "Only if you let me pay this time." She didn't need to look over to know Jack was frowning. "C'mon, we agreed that we'd share expenses. I don't need you paying for everything. I have money too."

"Why can't you just let me court you like in the good old days." He smiled, Sorina gaping at him in mock astonishment. "When life was simpler. I'd take you for a walk, we'd talk until after dusk, and I'd walk you to your doorstep before giving you a peck on the cheek. No need to rile your parents up about being out late."

Dr. Seward," Sorina gasped. "Are you calling me old?"

"I've always been fond of mature women." He explained, Sorina shoving him playfully. "Well, only when it came to you."

"I'm 123 years young, thank you very much." The halfling declared proudly, straightening up in her seat. "And I'll have you know I'm very selective. I don't just pick out any boy I like. In fact, I fancy just one."

"Should I be jealous?" He inquired, cocking an eye questioningly. "Do I know this man you speak of?"

"Oh, you should be quite envious," Sorina smirked. "He's very kind and charming. And quite handsome at that. I've been seeing him too, you know."

"Miss Van Helsing you scandalous thing." Jack chuckled, leaning over to kiss her. "What am I to do with you?"

"Anything you like." The way she said it made a shiver run down his spine. His stomach fluttering in such excitement he'd be too embarrassed to admit it. "As long as it isn't around my father." And there went the feeling completely.

Zoe Van Helsing's Residence

When they pulled up into the driveway, Sorina fell quiet again. Already from the car, Jack could clearly see the package resting on the porch. As he opened his door to get out, he was taken aback when the halfing did the same. Saying nothing, she made her way up the steps, retrieving a familiar gold key that hid under the rug.

"Sunny…" He began, but the woman had already turned the lock, pushing the door open. "Sunny, wait!"

The interior of the house was dark as the two entered inside. For the sake of not tripping over anything, Jack flipped on the light switch. Everything looked just as they left it. Sorina not bothering much in the few times she'd come over for things. Mostly she moved about between her parents' place and his. Though it was technically her's, Sorina still had yet to call it "home" once more.

"Did you forget something?" He asked, following her as she made her way down the hall. "I thought everything was packed up?"

"I just want to grab something, okay?" She responded, finally stopping in her tracks. "For the baby's room."

Jack's heart skipped a beat when he realized where they were standing. The outside of Zoe's room. A forbidden location that had almost remained untouched since the funeral. He felt as if he should say something. Anything. Maybe advise her against going in. Offer her support. Instead he remained silent, watching as she carefully turned the knob.

It was just as Zoe had left it. Bed well made, stacks of paper by her computer. Even a bottle of medication sat at her desk. But Sorina seemed to ignore all of that. She walked over to a shelf, acting as if nothing else was in the room. Gingerly, she lifted an object up and Jack realized immediately what it was. A picture frame.

Zoe. A much younger, healthier looking Zoe smiled back at him through the glass. She wore her hair down and in her hands she grasped a certificate. A diploma from her years at medical school. By her side, arm wound around her, grinned the brilliant, bright eyed Sorina. They looked so happy together. Happier than he'd ever seen his late mentor look. When Sorina finally turned around, there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I think this will look nice in the baby's room." She whispered with sorrowful, and yet hopeful smile.

Jack pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head as he too gazed down at the picture.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It's perfect."

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Mirabile Visu

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