#at some point in the last few months i have abruptly pivoted from definitely wanting marriage and kids to being ambivalent on marriage

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

questioning sexuality is so exhausting

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH19

People weren’t happy with how things went down with Alya in the original MDCSP, so I hope this version suffices. ;)

Previous     First      Next     AO3

---------------------------

Chapter 19: Miss Missing You

Alya chewed her nails, pivoting back and forth in her desk chair as Lila settled on her bed. Her thoughts raced too fast for Alya to make sense of them, and Lila’s grave expression did little to calm her nerves. When Alya told her about Adrien and Chloe, she insisted on meeting up. Maybe this way they could both talk to Ladybug, but something was off about Lila. Her jaw was a little too tense, and those green eyes swirled with an intensity Alya couldn’t place. What was going on?

“Is Ladybug on her way too? We have to let her know what they’re plotting,” Alya said, but when Lila remained quiet, she asked, “What?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Lila said. “This is going to be hard for me, but I trust you over anyone else.”

“What’s wrong?” Alya asked, and Lila shifted her weight, tucking a strand of long hair behind her ear.

“Well, Ladybug and I…we kind of had a falling out.” Lila lowered her gaze to her lap.

“What?”

“Remember when Chloe tried to impersonate her to make everyone hate me? Well, I told Ladybug about it, and that she shouldn’t trust Chloe anymore, but then last night she gave her back her Miraculous without consulting me.” Lila recounted. “I tried to talk to her and understand why she’d trust Chloe again after what she did to me, but Ladybug freaked out on me and told me not to question her judgment.”

“For real?” Alya gasped. “That’s not like her.”

“I know,” Lila said, “and after what you told me on the phone, I definitely think something weird is going on with her.”

“You don’t think Chloe is manipulating her, do you?” she asked.

Lila pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Not Chloe. I think that…well, I’m sorry, but I think Marinette is behind all of this.”

“Marinette?” Alya shot a glance at the Ladyblog pulled up on her computer, a sinking feeling in her gut.

She hadn’t posted about Queen Bee’s return—couldn’t bring herself to. Something was definitely off with Ladybug, but was it really all Marinette’s doing? Marinette wasn’t one for petty revenge, but maybe she had changed since she left. Or maybe Alya just never knew her like she thought she did.

Alya thought back to the night she was akumatized, the distant look in her bff’s eyes. She’d seemed tired, like all the fight had been drained from her. She didn’t even argue when Alya suggested they stop being friends, a fact that had haunted Alya ever since. Why had Marinette abandoned her so easily? Surely if her stories were to be believed, she would have fought harder, right? Wasn’t the truth worth fighting for?

“You said so yourself, Chloe and Adrien said they were going to get Ladybug to talk about me for Marinette. I think she’s manipulating all of them to get back at me because she can’t let go even after she’s been gone for a month now,” Lila said.

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Marinette do that? When I last spoke to her, she didn’t want anything to do with you or anyone here really,” Alya said. “Well, except Adrien, I guess, but she’s always been head-over-heels for him.”

“She’s obsessed! She’s never liked me, and I never understood why. The only thing I’ve been able to figure out is that she didn’t like me talking to Adrien, so now she’s lured him over to her side and fed him all kinds of lies about me. I don’t even like him that way, but she’s just so insecure and jealous that she thought Adrien would fall in love with me because of all of my accomplishments.” Lila hugged a pillow to her chest. “Now she’s taken one of my best friends away from me too!”

Alya crossed the room to sit beside her on the bed, draping an arm over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, girl. Maybe we can talk to Ladybug and convince her not to do that interview tomorrow.”

“I don’t think we can,” Lila whimpered. “She hasn’t responded to any of my calls ever since the Queen Bee thing. She’s on their side now.”

“Are you sure? I’ve met Ladybug a bunch of times, and she would totally pick up on it if something fishy was going on,” Alya said.

“Watch the interview tomorrow. If Ladybug says anything about me that sounds like them, then you’ll know I’m telling the truth,” Lila said.

Alya pursed her lips but didn’t argue. Lila’s story was just as probable as theirs at this point, and she was right. All they could do was watch the interview and see what happened. For their sake, she hoped that Chloe and Adrien’s plan failed, and Ladybug never mentioned Lila. But a heavy pit was already forming in Alya’s stomach, filling her with dread for the coming day. How had she gotten herself into the middle of all this drama? And how long would it be before the truth was finally revealed?

♪♫♪ Don’t Blame Me ♪♫♪

“How long before we give up?” Adrien asked the next afternoon. He leaned against the railing while Chloe manned the spotlight beside him.

“It’s hasn’t even been 20 minutes, Adrikins. I’ve sat up here for entire akuma battles before.” Chloe chided.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just nervous,” he said, letting a breath pass his lips.

Chloe spun on him with a scowl, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Oh no, you are not backing out this time. We’re doing this, so just think about Dupain-Cheng’s awful split-ends or whatever it is you need to keep you motivated.”

Adrien pursed his lips as Chloe turned back to her bee signal. She was right. No backing out this time. Lila was going down once and for all, then Marinette could finally be free. Marinette…

His heart fluttered, warming his cheeks. It would be obvious after today that he was helping Chloe take down Lila. Being intentionally cruel wasn’t in his nature, but he’d do anything to protect the people he loved. To protect the girl he loved.

It had taken him longer than it should have to realize his feelings for her, but now they burned so brightly, he had to wonder how he’d ever missed them. Marinette was a wonderful girl and a dear friend. If ever there was a person to fight for, it was her. She’d understand why he did all of this. It was all for her—always for her.

His heart ached with longing. Now that Marinette went to a different school, he couldn’t see her as often as he used to. Sometimes they went several days without seeing each other, and his heart grew heavier the longer they stayed apart. At least when he loved Ladybug, he got to see her every day when they fought akumas or patrolled the city, but even that wasn’t enough.

Adrien had spent too much of his life alone. Couldn’t the universe give him just one person to cure his loneliness? Missing Marinette was torture. What was she doing right now? Was she thinking about him?

He pulled out his phone and typed a simple message: what’s up?

Ugh, no, that was lame.

Hey cutie ;) what are you up to?

No, too forward.

I was just thinking about you

Too clingy. He backspaced over his message again, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. Why was flirting so much harder as Adrien? If he were Chat Noir, he’d just drop a few cat puns and tell her how pretty she was, but that might be a little abrasive coming from Adrien. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off. After all, she almost kissed him in the garden too. That meant she loved him back, right?

Pressing his lips into a determined line, he typed another message and hit send without overthinking it.

Hey, how’s your day been?

A minute passed before his phone buzzed with a reply: busy. I’m finalizing my designs for Clara. I present to her next week and im super nervous!

Aww don’t be clara is gonna love them.

I hope so! she replied. So what are you up to today?

Uhh im working on a school project with chloe. He lied. We have to interview someone we look up to, and shes demanding we interview ladybug so weve been standing on the roof with her bee signal for like 30 minutes.

Wow ladybug huh? I hope she shows up for you guys. Anyway these designs aren’t going to finish themselves so ill talk to you later! Bye!

good luck!

He smiled down at her messages. Marinette was always running a million miles an hour working on some project or another. She was so driven and passionate—something Adrien deeply admired. Clara would love her designs, and he and Chloe would definitely take down Lila this time. Then he and Marinette could be together without having to worry about anything. They could move to the suburbs and buy a cozy home for their three kids, a dog, and a hamster named-

“Looking for me?” Adrien and Chloe spun around, and Ladybug cocked a hip. “What’s the emergency?”

“Uhh,” Adrien stammered.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “We have to interview one of our personal heroes for a school project, so we picked you. Isn’t that right, Adrikins?” She nudged him with her elbow.

Think about Marinette. Everything was for Marinette. The tears she’d spilled, the pain she’d suffered… Adrien was going to take it all away. Lila would never hurt her again.

“Yeah. Do you have time?” Adrien asked.

Ladybug glanced between them and smiled. “I have a few minutes. Make it quick.”

“Excellent.” Chloe clapped her hands together and paced toward the stairs. “Everything is set up in my suite.”

Adrien took a deep breath as Ladybug fell into step beside him. A month ago being so close to her would have sent his heart into overdrive, but now his heart was pounding for a different reason. Ladybug hated liars. Deceiving her was a direct betrayal of her trust. Even if his feelings for her had changed, he was still her partner, and manipulating her like this didn’t feel right.

“Wait.” He stopped abruptly and caught Ladybug’s wrist. Chloe was already through the doorway to the stairs, and he sent her a silent apology just in case his next words ruined everything. “Chloe and I lied to you. This isn’t for a school project.”

“Then what’s all this about?” Ladybug asked.

“It’s…” Adrien took a deep breath and continued. “You remember Lila, right? She lied about you saving her and how you two are bffs?”

Ladybug sobered. “Yeah?”

“Well, her lies have gotten out of hand, and she hurt someone important to me. Chloe and I planned to trick you into admitting you two were never friends, so that everyone can finally see the truth about her. The interview was just a coverup,” Adrien explained, hanging his head low. “We shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry.”

Ladybug eyed him with pursed lips, those blue eyes working out a solution like he were one of her lucky charms. She seemed to come to a conclusion, her face softening. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“If you don’t want to help us, I won’t blame you. I know it’s wrong to seek revenge,” Adrien said.

A knowing smile spread across her lips. “That friend of yours must be really special to you.”

“What?”

“For you to resort to something like this, you must care about your friend—the one Lila hurt—a lot,” she said, then with a sigh added, “I don’t normally condone revenge, but I know how dangerous Lila can be. I’ve almost lost my Miraculous because of her several times, so I think you’re right. It’s time everyone learned the truth about Lila Rossi.”

Adrien blinked. “So, wait… You’re going to help us?”

“I made a promise to keep Paris safe, and if we continue to let Lila go unchecked, she’s only going to put more people in danger,” Ladybug said. “It’s time someone put her in her place.”

“Hurry up, you two! I have a hair appointment this evening, and I do not want to be late!” Chloe shouted from the doorway.

Adrien held Ladybug’s gaze, and she gave him an encouraging nod. “Uh, coming!” he called.

He gestured Ladybug ahead, following close behind her, cheeks hot. This was really happening. Ladybug was going to help them stop Lila. After today, everyone would know the truth, and Marinette would be free. They all would.

“Ladybug, you sit on this side.” Chloe directed. “Adrikins and I will sit on this side.”

“Okay,” Ladybug said, sliding onto the couch smoothly.

Adrien took the seat across from her, wiping his palms on his jeans while Chloe barked orders at her butler. Satisfied with the camera angle, Chloe sat beside him and fixed her hair in her compact before calling “action.”

Chloe’s butler—Adrien couldn’t remember his name—started the Instagram live, broadcasting to all of Chloe’s followers. There was no turning back now.

“Hello out there, my little worker bees. Your queen is here with some very special guests today,” Chloe cooed in her token attention-seeking voice. “My favorite people in the whole world besides myself, obviously—Adrien and Ladybug!”

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Adrien waved.

“As you all know, I helped Ladybug defeat another akuma last weekend. Being Queen Bee again was such an honor, and I admit, even I have people I look up to,” she said, flipping her ponytail. “So, Ladybug, thank you for allowing me to become a superheroine. Queen Bee is truly an inspiration.”

“Uh, sure.” Ladybug rolled her eyes. “Chat Noir and I always appreciate help from our allies.”

“You heard it here, everyone! Ladybug values my help,” Chloe said, and Adrien cleared his throat. “Now, onto the topic of today’s livestream. People everywhere are inspired by superheroes like me and Ladybug, so today we are going to give you all the inside scoop on what it takes to be a hero.”

“That’s right, Chloe,” Adrien piped up. “I don’t have superpowers, so I have to ask: what’s it like being a superhero, Ladybug?”

“Well, everyone thinks that having superpowers is all fun and games, but in reality, Chat Noir and I have a huge responsibility. Defending Paris every day requires sacrifice, and we know the whole city is counting on us to succeed. It’s a lot of pressure,” Ladybug said.

“Of course, I know what it’s like being a superhero myself, but can you tell everyone how overwhelming it is to save the day all the time?” Chloe prompted.

“Yeah, totally. It’s a lot of work fighting akumas. Sometimes Hawkmoth makes supervillains at the worst times, and I have to drop everything to go save the city. Leading a double life is challenging, and sometimes it even impacts my day-to-day life. School, friends, family—I’m always rushing all over the place juggling two lives.” Ladybug admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “But I’m happy to do it. Paris is my home, and it’s an honor to defend it. Besides, when the going gets tough, I know I can count on my partners to have my back.”

“So, when you pick a new partner, what qualities do you look for in a person that makes them a good fit to work with you?” Adrien asked.

“I look for people with courage and good intentions. Often times, the people I pick are ones who have stepped up to do the right thing, even if it’s hard. They’re people I know I can trust,” Ladybug said.

“Would you say you consider your allies close personal friends?” Chloe beamed, flashing the camera a wink.

“Well, I don’t know all of them in real life like you, Chloe,” Ladybug said with a cautious glance at the camera. “Sometimes they are people I meet during a battle that impress me, and who prove themselves to be trustworthy.”

“And how do you know if you can trust someone?” Adrien asked. “Do you consult anyone for recommendations, or do you operate on the fly?”

“Most of the time when I give someone a Miraculous, it’s because they’ve demonstrated their character to me. Every person I give a Miraculous to has earned their right to wear it either by helping me or showing that they’re willing to sacrifice to save others. The decision about who gets to wear one and who doesn’t is deeply personal to me,” Ladybug answered. “Not even Chat Noir knows the identities of our allies. It’s something I don’t share with anyone.” She shot Chloe a stern look. “Under normal circumstances.”

“So, you pick the allies by yourself?” Adrien followed up.

“Yes. In the middle of a battle, I wouldn’t even have time to consult anyone if I wanted to.”

“In other words, if anyone were to—I don’t know—claim that they help you choose your partners, they’d be a liar, right?” Chloe added.

“Yeah, I don’t talk to anyone about who I pick.” Ladybug shook her head.

“Ya know, Ladybug, there are some people out there that claim to be your best friend. How do you feel about people lying about knowing you to make themselves more popular?” Chloe asked.

Ladybug locked eyes with Adrien, the weight of their mission heavy on both of their shoulders. She clasped her hands together in her lap and said, “As I’m sure both of you are aware, there will always be people who use your name for their own selfish gain, but I want everyone out there to know that I take my job very seriously. Protecting all of you is my number one priority.”

She took a deep breath. “Being a superhero is dangerous, and that’s why, with the exception of Chat Noir and my trusted allies, Ladybug doesn’t have friends.”

“So, anyone who says they’re your friend is a liar, right?” Adrien asked.

“Yes, and they’re putting themselves in danger. Hawkmoth will stop at nothing to get my Miraculous, so please, if you’re out there… Do the right thing, and tell the truth.” Ladybug pleaded to the camera.

“It’s utterly pathetic when people lie about who they know just to get attention,” Chloe sighed in disgust. “You heard it here, my little bees! Chat Noir and I are Ladybug’s only friends.”

“Well, I’d consider you more of an ally than a frie-”

“And as one of Ladybug’s bffs, I want all of the losers out there to buzz off! Ladybug has much more important things to do, like spending time with me,” Chloe said.

“Right.” Ladybug’s yoyo beeped, and she glanced down at it briefly. “I should really get going. A hero’s work is never done.”

“Of course. Thank you for your time, Ladybug,” Adrien said, shaking her hand.

“No problem. It’s important to me that everyone in Paris knows I’m doing everything I can to keep you all safe, and the people I choose to fight beside me are people I truly trust. We’ll all keep fighting hard to protect this city,” she said, waving two fingers. “Bug out!”

“Well, that does it for this livestream, little bees. Your queen will see you all again next time. Bye-bye!”

♪♫♪ Impossible Year ♪♫♪

“So, anyone who says they’re your friend is a liar, right?”

“Yes.”

Lila was right. They really had gotten to Ladybug. Alya had done her best not to think about Marinette since their falling out. Remembering her old bff was too painful and confusing. Everything Alya thought she knew changed the moment Lila came to their school. The person she trusted became a stranger overnight. Alya wanted to believe that Marinette would never align herself with Chloe or orchestrate a hostile takedown just because she was jealous, but Alya had seen her do crazier things to win Adrien.

“I’m doing everything I can to keep you all safe, and the people I choose to fight beside me are people I truly trust.”

How was Chloe more trustworthy than Alya? All that was necessary for the triumph of evil was that good people do nothing. She’d known from day one that Chloe was evil, so why couldn’t Ladybug see it?  Why would Ladybug align herself with the queen of all evil over someone who dedicated herself to doing the right thing? Was this really all Marinette’s doing? And why?

Was Marinette really that desperate to win Adrien? Did she hate Lila so much that she’d willingly team up with her worst enemy to get back at her for stealing attention away from the boy she liked? From where Alya was sitting, it looked like Marinette already had him, and Lila had always been clear that she wasn’t interested in him that way. Why go through all that trouble to get Ladybug to denounce Lila just to win a boy? But if Marinette was involved with Ladybug…

It all made sense now. The reason Ladybug had picked someone else to wield her Miraculous. How long had they been plotting all of this? And how could Ladybug trust Marinette’s word over Alya’s without even trying to hear her side of the story? Or Lila’s? How could Ladybug not see that she was being manipulated? She was a hero, and one of the best Alya had ever seen. So why was she fighting for the wrong side?

Her head spun, and she gripped the side of her desk for support. Someone needed to tell Ladybug the truth.

“You want to save Ladybug from those you deem evil. Let me help you, Ladyblogger.”

Alya jumped at the sinister voice in her head. She smoothed her thumb over her phone screen, now glowing with dark energy. A cold feeling washed over her, all of her pain and confusion bubbling to the surface. In the center of it all stood her determined resolve, driving her to give in.

Someone needed to tell Ladybug the truth. Someone like her.

[strongerwiththepack]

I got heat stroke and interaction room and can I have Gordon?

From the Whump Generator. After googling ‘interaction room’ with very little success I had a look at the generator and assumed you actually meant ‘interrogation room’ haha thank-you for the prompt, hope you enjoy x

Gordon & Heatstroke & Interrogation Room

It had been a few months since their dad had returned and, after some hurdles, they were finally settling into the new family dynamic. Scott was going over some Tracy Industries reports with him at the moment. His dad was working towards taking back a more active role in the company so Scott could focus more on his commander role for International Rescue.

It was going to take some time before Scott could fully step back though. Their father had missed 8 years of business growth and technological advancements. He was also earning back trust from the board due to health concerns. They didn’t need to worry, his dad was pushing through physical therapy at an impressive speed. It ran in the family apparently.

His dad was ready to get back in the game and Scott would make sure he was prepared. He was surprised as he felt himself yawning unexpectedly. It had been a long day. He’d had a rescue in the early hours of the morning and gotten back just in time for lunch then spent the afternoon doing paperwork with his father.

The sun was now setting on the beachfront and the sounds of the piano filled the lounge as Virgil played softly in the background. He was tired, but it was more of a content tired opposed to the bone-weary tired he’d often felt before the Zero-XL. He stood up straight to stretch out his back as his father sent away the last report they had written.

And then the piano music stopped abruptly.

“Gordon?” Virgil queried.

And sure enough Gordon was hurriedly making his way in from the pool deck. He froze at his name but kept his back turned to them.

“Yeah?” His brother answered, still not turning his head. Scott narrowed his eyes, Gordon was definitely up to something. He shared a knowing look with Virgil as their father also stopped what he was doing.

Before he could say anything though, Alan bounded over from his position in the den, with his handheld games console.

“Where’ve you been all day?” The smaller blonde whined. “Check this out, I beat your high score on Zombie Bashers.” He thrust the console in Gordon’s face. “Told you I could-wow what’s wrong with your face?”

“Something you want to tell us Gordon?” Scott asked at Alan’s remark.

His mischievous brother pivoted slowly and Scott squinted in the rapidly diminishing light of the sunset. Gordon was wearing a cap and keeping his head bowed which conveniently hid his face.

“Nope, don’t think so Scott. Just gonna head up and get changed before dinner.”

His brother pointed down the corridor before spinning quickly in that direction and trying to sidestep Alan. Then he stumbled, falling onto one knee and holding a hand to his head with a hiss of pain.

Scott was stunned for a second as his father abruptly stood up from the desk, his chair screeching behind him as he did so. He could see Alan panicking as he stood over his brother, looking towards Scott to tell him what to do.

“Gordon!” Scott snapped out of it in time to run over. “What’s wrong?”

“Urgh-I’m fine, I’m fine.” Gordon stated as he got close, quickly pushing himself off the ground. As soon as he did so though he wobbled again, crashing into the wall with a thud.

Scott could see what was going to happen seconds before it did. He was too far away.

“Alan!” He yelled. “Catch him!”

His littlest brother startled for a second and then Gordon was falling. Alan’s reflexes clicked in as soon as he caught the movement. He frantically grabbed his older brother around the waist but it was the wrong angle and Gordon’s momentum pulled Alan down with him. Scott winced as Gordon’s head cracked off the linoleum, Alan only managing to slightly slow the fall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Alan whispered frantically as he hands hovered over his usual partner in crime who was frighteningly still.

Scott slid down next to them, gently pushing his littlest brother to the side as he checked Gordon over. He could hear his father reassuring Alan in the background and was grateful that wasn’t something he needed to worry about right now. Virgil ran past them, Scott hoped he was getting a stretcher.

Gordon’s hat had fallen off in the fall and Scott could now see the redness of his skin. It was irritated and peeling in some places.

“Is he alright?” His dad questioned behind him, a slight shake to his voice. After 8 years without his sons, Jeff couldn’t quite stomach the injuries anymore. That’s why he was focusing on Tracy Industries and not International Rescue. Scott couldn’t blame him, it never got easier.

“Heatstroke I’m guessing.” Scott reported, pulling his brother into the recovery position. “We’ll get a scan in the medbay.”

Virgil returned with a stretcher and between the four of them, Gordon was lifted effortlessly onto it. Brains was waiting for them as they entered the medical bay.

“Oh m-my” The engineer stuttered as he took out his scanner. The sunburn did look a lot worse in the harsh light of the room. Alan curled up on a chair in the corner as they worked. Scott made a mental note to talk to him later.

His focus was Gordon right now.

*

Gordon squinted in the harsh light and hissed as the movement pulled at the tight skin on his face. He was burning and he reflexively kicked at the sheets that covered him.

“Son?” He heard a gentle query as his head turned towards the voice and opened his eyes properly. The world was spinning but he made out the concerned face of his father. He was so dead.

Gordon blinked again before the nausea overtook him and bile made it’s way to his throat.

“Sick.” He chocked out and then there were hands pulling him into a sitting position and a bucket thrust under his head. He wretched pathetically as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the basin. Someone was rubbing his back soothingly and Gordon turned to see Virgil on his other side and Scott standing at the end of the bed. Yep, he was so dead.

He rested his head on the bucket and groaned.

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, young man.” His father commanded gently.

“Uhhh” Gordon whined. “I was an idiot and got sunburnt?”

“A little sunburn doesn’t cause you to collapse and traumatise your little brother Gordon.” Scott deadpanned. “You have severe heatstroke, what the hell were you doing?”

Guilt spiked in his chest at the accusation. He’d need to make it up to Alan somehow. Virgil helped him lay back down as he pulled the bucket away.

Gordon placed his arms over his face and groaned. “Can we save the interrogation for later Scott?”

“No.” His brother replied. Where was the sympathy?

“I found a bale of sea turtles caught in some nets just off the shore, okay?” Gordon moaned. “I wasn’t planning on being out as long as I was.”

“Something tells me you weren’t wearing this hat on the water either?” Virgil added waving the cap that had fallen off his head when he fell.

Gordon narrowed his eyes at his brother. No solidarity between co-pilots anymore apparently.

“How long were you out in the water?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, I left after lunch till whenever I came back in?”

“That was five hours Gordon.” Their dad startled.

Gordon shrugged. “I didn’t really notice, I’ve done longer.”

“Not without any of us knowing Gordon.” Scott reprimanded. “What if you had passed out in the water? None of us even knew you were out there.”

Gordon looked around at the three-stern faces peering down at him.

“I’m sorry okay?”

“No, it’s not okay Gordon.” Scott rebutted.

Gordon didn’t know if it was the heatstroke, the concussion or the guilt he was feeling for worrying his family but he felt his eyes start to water suddenly. He avoided anyone’s gaze a he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes.

A hand landed on his shoulder and his fathers voice rumbled. “Gordon’s had a long day Scott, why don’t we get back to this after he’s had a chance to rest.”

“Yeah, okay” Scott conceded. “Feel better kiddo.” He said gently as he squeezed one of Gordon’s feet. Virgil got up too, squeezing his hand and giving him a reassuring look before he and Scott left the room.

Gordon peered up at his dad who was looking at him with worry still etched into his face. That was not an expression he ever wanted to cause.

He sighed. “Sorry dad, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His father gave a tight smile. “Just get some rest Gordon.”

fin.

[ghostcribs]

From the prompts list post...How about maybe 8? "Can you please...? Hmmm, I don't know. Maybe put a shirt on?" X3

I had a lot of fun with this, thank you :)

Argo is used to sharing living quarters. Honestly, the dorm room at Wiggenstaff’s is a lot more space to himself than he’s used to having. An actual bed with a mattress, his own chest of drawers, even his own little desk—it’s a big step-up from a little hammock and tiny corner of the bottom of a ship. Not that he really has enough belongings to fill the space. He was a little embarrassed about it, after he’d realized how much stuff Fitzroy owns, but the Firbolg has even less than Argo so maybe it’s not too unusual.

But he’s certainly no stranger to being in tight spaces with other people literally all the time. Having personal space and privacy isn’t much of a thing at sea, so you kind of have to get comfortable in front of strangers pretty quickly or else forfeit your own comfort and be more or less miserable. And he and his roommates are pretty far past being strangers.

So Argo doesn’t really understand why Fitzroy seems to get so uncomfortable and embarrassed when he’s hanging out in the room with his shirt off. It’s summer break, the annex is hot, and even though Fitzroy seems perfectly fine strutting around in his usual long-sleeved shirts and fancy cloaks (how, Argo doesn’t understand, but there’s much about the half-elf that he doesn’t understand), Argo is certainly not about to suffer unnecessarily.

No one bats an eye when you go days without ever putting on a shirt at sea, and it didn’t even occur to him that it might be different at school until one day when he’s in the room reading over some books on sneakery and Fitzroy walks in holding a thermos of some cold drink and nearly spits it out upon seeing Argo lounging on his bed.

Argo glances up and gives him a quizzical look. “Y’alright, Fitz?”

His nonchalance seems to throw Fitzroy a little, because the barbarian stutters for a moment, his face growing quite red, until he pushes his glasses up his nose and dramatically fixes his gaze at a spot on the floor. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem a little…” Argo shrugs, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m not a little anything.” Whatever emotion he’s experiencing seems to shift quickly to irritation. He sets his drink down with considerable force and climbs aggressively up to his bunk.

Argo has never known someone who could put so much feeling into the most mundane of little actions the way Fitzroy can. Sometimes he wonders if his roommate is aware of how dramatic he is or if he really is just like that. Even the way he lays out on his bed and opens a magazine with a flourish seems very over the top and fueled by something that Argo can’t even begin to guess at.

As with most things Fitzroy says and does, Argo rolls his eyes at it and lets it go without much thought. If anything, the little fits are strangely endearing and very amusing, which he wouldn’t have been able to say the first few months of knowing Fitzroy. Sometimes, when he allows his mind to go there, he wonders when he stopped thinking of the half-elf as annoying and pompous in a negative, angering way and started seeing those traits as kind of charming instead. Fitzroy is charismatic for sure, and definitely still annoying and pompous, but it’s…different somehow, now. And it’s confusing as hell, which is why Argo doesn’t think about it too much.

He returns his attention to his book, the sound of Fitzroy flipping the pages of his magazine in the background. The Firbolg had gone out some time ago to spend the day, Argo assumes, in the regular woods that are near the campus, or maybe the stables. It’s a hot day, but it’s nice out, so he probably won’t be back for a while. Eventually, as the sun gets higher in the sky, the temperature of the room seems to heat up even more and soon Argo feels uncomfortably sweaty.

He stands to open the window and ties his hair up in a messy bun on the top of his head. He’s starting to get a bit antsy without much to do. He’s been working in Last Hope since the start of break, but today’s a day off and he doesn’t handle ample free time incredibly well. He stretches his arms up over his head and bends a little at the waist, working the muscles that have grown stiff from inactivity. “Hey, Fitz, you wanna go spar for a while?”

He can almost hear Fitzroy gritting his teeth, and he doesn’t even look up when he hisses out, “No.”

Argo frowns. “Oh… Well, d’ya wanna take a walk into town or somethin’?”

“No.” He turns another page. “But if you want to, don’t let me stop you.”

“What, you’re just gonna sit here in the heat?”

Fitzroy sighs loudly. “That’s the plan.”

Argo puts his hands on his hips. “C’mon, Fitzy, don’t just sit around alone all day. Come do something with me.”

“Don’t call me that. And I’m good, thank you.”

“What’s eatin’ at ya? Did I do somethin’ to make you mad?”

Fitzroy glances over at him quickly and then his face goes beet red again and his eyes snap back over to his magazine. “N—no.”

“What? Somethin’s obviously bothering you. What’s the matter?”

“Jesus Christ, Argo.” He slaps the magazine closed and turns to face Argo irritably. “Could you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know—maybe put a shirt on?!”

Argo blinks in confusion. “Huh—? I—” He looks down at himself, not really knowing why. Maybe some sort of explanation as to why his bare torso seems to be such an issue for Fitzroy. “Why—”

“God.” Fitzroy then opens the magazine and drapes it over his face. “You can’t just—walk around like that!”

Argo’s well and truly bewildered now. “Why not? Sailors do it all the time, and it’s hot, Fitz—Fitzroy.”

“I know it’s hot,” Fitzroy mutters under his breath, so low Argo almost doesn’t catch it. “It’s just...it’s distracting.”

Argo laughs mockingly. “I know I’m sexy, but—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, because as soon as the words leave his mouth he notices Fitzroy tense up. It’s almost imperceptible, the subtle tightening of his muscles and clenching of his fists, but Argo sees it and suddenly something clicks.

“Oh,” he breathes. His heart rate picks up and his body flushes with heat that has nothing to do with the summer. “You do think I’m sexy.”

He can’t bring himself to fully believe that’s actually what’s going on—at least not until Fitzroy reaches up to slide the magazine down his face just enough to uncover his eyes, which are giving Argo an extremely nervous sideways glance.

“Is that—” Argo quirks an eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest, cocking one hip out slightly. “Sir Fitzroy, are you flustered?”

Fitzroy sits up on the bed in a whirlwind and suddenly the magazine is hurling towards Argo’s face with such tremendous speed and force that he can’t reach out to block it, and it smacks him so hard he stumbles back onto his bed.

When he recovers from the shock and sits up, the door is swinging in its frame and he only catches a glimpse of the tail end of a scarlet cloak disappearing down the hall. He jumps to his feet and swings out of the doorway, gripping the frame with one hand.

He cups one hand around his mouth and shouts, “Is that a hard no to hangin’ out then?”

At the end of the hall, Fitzroy pivots on his heel and points an index finger at Argo. “Put on a goddamn shirt, Argonaut Keene!”

After that day, when Argo decides to go shirtless, it’s a very intentional decision he makes for one very specific purpose.

[thepulta]

Part 1

For @lettuce-shoes. This just brained me when she mentioned Adult Finds a Child because I wanted their friendship to happen in the storyline but it never really did and there is a WHOLE AU that could definitely happen around it if Skyfarer-Proper never happened. Skyfarer could happen maybe and the dynamic would have been completely different. But mostly I don’t see Skyfarer happening, it just would have been this catastrophe of three sisters and that’s this Listlie AU. 

-=-

Arthur’s instructions had been very simple. Go to Port Prosper, organize the Fairweather offices, meet Morgan, and escort her home to London.

Morgan had bitched about it because she “was seventeen and wasn’t a fucking baby thank you very much” but there’d been some light platitudes about separate cabins and travelling together finally and she’d fucked off to Leadbeater several months previously, mollified.

That was all fine. The offices were fine too at this point. It’d only taken a day to get the paperwork in order; some missing ledgers were behind the bookshelf. What the instructions did NOT include, however, were how to deal with getting framed as a parent.

The first red flag was the child that burst through the crowd. She must have seen the red hair, Westlie’s casual This is my Day Off because I’m not in London and Arthur can shove it look and beelined towards her. The second red flag was the constable that shoved over a man in pursuit. He looked angry.

The third red flag was the child screaming, “Mother!” with tears in her eyes, which was less of a red flag and more of a mobile red brick wall smacking Westlie in the face, which, coincidentally stopped her walking in stunned silence and the child slammed into her legs.

She was about six or seven with curly black hair pulled into a ponytail and big brown eyes. She had a very rough cotton dress on. It was questionably clean, but extremely untidy. Her sniffles threatened to overwhelm her as she looked up and a tear ran down her cheek. “H-he’s trying to arrest me!”

Trying to-

“EXCUSE ME.” The constable shoved past another person in the throng to reach them. He was huge, at least six foot with beefy hands and a well-oiled mustache. “SHE-” He reached them and Westlie instinctively felt something tighten in her as he loomed, pulling herself to her full height. “Excuse me, ma’am. You can turn that child over.”

“This is my mother!”

Westlie looked down at the child, brain reeling. She stared back up at Westlie with enormous frightened eyes.

She looked back up at the constable and somehow managed to clear her throat. “Why are you chasing her?”

He looked aghast. “She’s an orphan! Look at her! She stole a purse and needs to be returned to the orphanage immediately to be punished!”

The constable scowled and reached out his hands. “I’m not an orphan!” The child pushed back against Westlie’s legs, almost hiding behind them. “She’s my mother! Tell him to go away!”

“I- I-” The constable smelled like garlic and Westlie instinctively smacked his hand edging away from him as well when he edged closer. “Back off.” She stared down at the child. “Did you- did you take something?”

The child’s lip quivered. “I- I didn’t mean to.” The child paused. “-Mum.”

I hate this. Was Westlie’s instinctive thought. I am never going to be called mum. God, have I ever called Relia ‘mum’? I should apologize.

“Give it back.”

The child was already shaking a little bit when she huddled against Westlie’s skirts, but she started shaking in earnest at that point, but she obeyed. After a few seconds, tears started streaming down her cheeks and she produced a little coin purse that couldn’t have held more than 3 sovereigns at most. She held it up to Westlie who gently took it and offered it to the constable.

The constable snatched it, scowling. “I appreciate the cooperation, ma’am, but that’s proof she’s a fucking thief.” He sneered down at the child who shook harder. “You need to be in jail you little picker.”

He was getting pleasure out of scaring her, Westlie could see it on his face. He slid the purse into his jacket in a way that wasn’t entirely honest either and she had to wonder if those three sovereigns were going to get back to their owner. The whole exchange- him leering over the child who was terrified and scared witless and very clearly didn’t want to go back from wherever she had come from- so much that she would cling to an utter stranger for help- struck a chord with Westlie. Being out of London was like a breath of fresh air from Arthur’s looming and who was she to send this child back to whatever fucking hellhole she’d run from. Maybe the money had been to eat. It certainly didn’t look like she’d been fed well.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Westlie almost blinked in surprise at the venom in the tone. The constable certainly did.

“She is my-” Westlie barely managed to get the word out without choking. “-daughter and I appreciate your willingness to bring justice with the purse. Now kindly fuck off.”

He scowled harder and the leer pivoted to Westlie. She felt the usual ball of anger inside herself begin to flame and she instinctively puffed herself up to meet him, scowling back and tucking the child behind her. “Ma’am,” he spat the word. “The place she needs is a cell to know what she’s done.”

Westlie’s tone dripped sarcasm. “With every possible respect, Sir, she is under my supervision and I will discipline her myself for the trouble she’s caused Port Prosper. Come on-” she realized as she snatched the child’s hand she didn’t even know her name. “-girl.”

She stomped away from the constable, the girl stumbling after her a bit. She didn’t stop until they were away from the docks and a few streets closer to the offices. When it seemed safe enough, she ducked into a quiet alleyway and glanced back down at the girl. She was crying again. Westlie realized abruptly she’d been clutching her hand too tight. “I’m- I’m- I’m so sorry. Um-”

Westlie leaned down, cleared her throat, and offered the girl and handkerchief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you like that. I’m so sorry. I-” she cleared her throat again, completely at a loss. “I’m sorry.”

The girl sniffed and scrubbed a bit fruitlessly at her tears. Westlie could get a better look at her face. “Where…. Where is your home?”

“Please don’t take me back!” There was another wail and burst of tears. The girl cringed away from her and Westlie felt something in her heart twist. “Please, please, please! I’ll do anything. Don’t take me back to the orphanage!”

“Hey- hey-” Westlie cleared her throat and shoved her hand in her pocket, wondering if there was going to be anything useful. A pencil and a five-pence. Not useful. “I- I’m not taking you back. Don’t worry. Are you ok? You look… are you hungry?”

The girl didn’t respond, she was looking at the dirty handkerchief in shock. “… I dirtied it. I’m sorry. I dirtied it.”

Westlie gently took it from her and the girl’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m not mad.”

She just stared at her with scared wide eyes.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“… food?”

“Right.” It came out a bit more impatient than Westlie expected and she reminded herself why she was never, ever going to have children. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” The girl sniffed and looked back down at the ground, her voice dropping low. “They don’t feed us dinner there… and I missed breakfast, and I thought-”

Westlie found herself straightening up, and somewhat returning to her normal self, trying to deal with things in a no-nonsense manner because that was what was expected and productive and reasonable. “Let’s get street buns.”

She strolled back out of the alleyway, not holding the child’s hand. She stumbled when the child ran and smacked into the back of her legs. She grabbed her skirt and clung to the side of it. “Hey- what are you-” Oh, she was scared. Westlie felt her heart soften a little again and she slowed down so the child could keep pace, literally holding onto her by one edge of the skirt.

It worked out well. The made their way to the office section where pushcarts lined the sides of the streets. There were more extravagant ones for sitting down; some with chicken being grilled with steam-spits that grilled and turned the chicken at the same time. The steamed buns cart was close to Fairweather though. Easy, simple, and cheap. Westlie tossed him the five-pence and ordered two pork buns.

They sat on the edge of the street outside of the office with the multitude of other office workers hurrying past. The child tore into her bun while Westlie munched appreciatively at it. When she looked over a few minutes later, the child’s whole bun was gone and she was staring awkwardly at the street. Her own was only half-finished. Fuck. Well. She had more money in her room above the office. There would be more pork buns. Westlie gently nudged the child who jumped. “Do you want the rest?”

The child looked scared. “N-no, I’m fine.”

“You can have mine. I don’t want it.”

Still the scared look. It reminded Westlie of Morgan tempting little dogs out or tossing feral cats bits of cheese until she could cuddle them and sneak them into the house. She held out the bun a little farther. “It’s ok.”

The child gave her one more worried look, then snatched the bun and hurriedly tore into it like it wouldn’t last a second longer. That was gone in under a minute.

Westlie cleared her throat after another minute. The girl looked like she was scared, but staying put because it seemed safe and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. “Do you have a name…?”

“’course I have a name.” The girl sniffed. “’m Lizzie.”

“Elizabeth?”

“My friends call me Lizzie.”

I’m not your friend, Westlie thought sullenly.

“Did you… live in the orphanage? -Lizzie?”

The girl recoiled into herself at the question like she was scared Westlie might send her back, or maybe if she thought she was judging her.

“I- I just want to know where you’re from. Do you have a family…?”

“… no family. Ran away from the orphanage.”

“Where… did you want to go, Lizzie?” And that question was genuine, because… Westlie couldn’t really summon the words. It was obvious she was terrified of the orphanage, but she was still brave enough to run away. Maybe not even running to something – and Westlie felt like if she ever ran away from Arthur, if it ever got really bad she would want to be running to something. And was it bad enough with Arthur to run away? When was bad enough? Not getting fed? Being punished? Was she frightened enough now?

Westlie jerked herself back to the present when Lizzie shifted to hug her knees. “… nowhere. I thought- I thought maybe I could ride on a train to New Winchester. But I don’t have money for a ticket.”

“Do you… have a place to spend the night…?”

“No.”

Part of her wanted to yell at the girl for being so unreasonable as to just run out on the streets without food, without money. What if she’d been kidnapped or anything worse that could happen to small girls. Westlie’s heart twisted a bit again. What could she do about it? What could she do about it? She didn’t know orphanages and obviously the one here wouldn’t do. She couldn’t send her back. That would be cruel. Were there people who could take her…? Maybe the workers….?

Westlie glanced over her shoulder at Fairweather. There were two workers on staff. One was just a boy younger than her and the other was the incompetent woman who’d dropped the ledge behind the shelf. She glanced back at Lizzie. She looked so small, clutching her knees to her chest, so unsure.

There was-

Westlie hated herself for thinking it.

There was her room.

It wasn’t large. It was just basic necessities. Arthur- and by extension, herself weren’t frivolous. But even if she slept on the floor, Lizzie would have a roof over her head. It’d be alright for the night. It’d buy her time to figure out what to do. Maybe the solution was just giving her money to head to New Winchester. That was a safe solution, wasn’t it?

Right.

Westlie stared at Lizzie and she suddenly found herself unable to talk. ‘Come home with me…?’ Fuck, that was so creepy. What was she trying to do? Lure her to a grave? Westlie cleared her throat. ‘Stay with me for the night?’ No-no, too pensive.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and struggled with it for a full minute before Lizzie looked up at her and the words finally came out. “I- If you want to stay. I mean. Stay with me. For the night that is. If you want. And we can figure out something in the morning. That seems like a good idea. You can’t go out there. You shouldn’t anyway. And we can- I don’t know. There’s dinner. More dinner- I mean, anyway. If you want dinner.”

Lizzie just watched her with wide eyes, but she didn’t say no.

Westlie stared back.

This was such a bad idea. Holy shit it was such a bad idea. Fuck. Goddamn. Why.

She shoved all the thoughts aside and stood up, staring down at the very small, very wide-eyed child. I’m a very small, very wide-eyed child, her mind grumbled. She held out her hand.

Lizzie hesitated for a very long minute, then her hand slowly crept up, ever so slowly. One second, two seconds. It almost touched Westlie’s fingertips. They both stared at each other, equally scared and uncertain, and then Lizzie grabbed it and held on, letting Westlie gently pull her to her feet.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 19/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Belle recalls a pivotal event in her engagement with Gaston, and then talks plans with Gold.

Notes: So this chapter is one I have been dreading because it starts to get into Belle's backstory, her relationship with Gaston, how it ended, etc., and a portion of what is coming is very personal for me and a large reason I started writing this story. I want to emphasize that while Gaston is definitely a jerk and did not do what he should have done in this situation, it's not as clear cut a case of sexual assault or anything else that it may appear on the surface. There are more things at play, and things going on with Belle that lead to this which will be coming out in the next chapter or two. Please note the tag updates on AO3.

Warning: Sexual assault vibes

[AO3]

Eight months ago...

Belle’s back hit the bookshelves beside her writing desk, rattling the oil lamp, and sending one of her pens rolling down to the chair.

She turned her head in time to see it hit the cushion just before Gaston’s arm came up to brace next to her head. Her eyelids fluttered as he pressed his mouth to her neck, a pleasant tingle rippling down her spine. He pulled back, smiling at her, and she bit her lip.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

His head tilted. “We are to be married in a month, so what does it matter?”

She licked her lips, her eyes searching his, uncertain of what she was hoping to find there. Gaston was everything she wanted, at least on the surface. He was handsome, wealthy, and in good standing with the rest of the kingdom, having been raised to the knighthood only a few weeks ago. When her father had proposed the idea of marriage to Sir Gaston, she had thought it to be as good a match as she could hope for, if not better. Yet it felt like there was a piece missing.

They’d been engaged for a few months, and aside from a few kisses, they hadn’t been this physical. She wasn’t against it, personally, though some in society frowned on the behavior, but while his kisses had begun to stir something in her, it was hard to push aside her reservations and give herself over to whatever pleasure there might be. It had always been a trial for her in that area, and she worried that in spite of what she might want to do in her head, her body would once again decide otherwise.

“Belle.” He caught her chin with his finger and made her look up at him.

The angle was awkward, and she thought perhaps he might be just a little too tall for her, however statuesque that made his figure. After a long moment, she gave a little nod and pushed up on her toes, sealing her lips to his. He took it as an invitation for more, and before she knew what was happening, he had started to lift her skirts.

Startled, she pulled back, her hands flat against his chest. “Wait -” She panted for breath. “Wait.”

Gaston frowned and shifted his other hand around to her backside, squeezing it roughly. “I’ve been waiting, Belle. I’ve been very patient.”

He mouthed at her neck, wetly, and she made a face into his shoulder. There was another brief jolt of pleasure and then something else, a pressure low in her abdomen that she wanted to ignore, and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. His hand spanned her thigh above her stocking, his thumb rubbing over the muscle that twitched beneath it, before moving higher and pulling at the laces on her drawers.

She gasped when she felt them loosen and slip down, and Gaston whispered something lewd in her ear that she barely heard. Her breathing increased, and she squeezed her legs together at the first touch of his fingers. He was still kissing her, moving along her jaw and her neck, and knocking against her chin, hushing her and asking her to open her legs. She frowned and tried to relax, shifting her thighs apart, willing to let it happen in the hopes that this time would be different, this time it would be good.

Then his fingers breached her folds and -

“Stop!”

Belle grabbed for her drawers, pulling them up all the way as Gaston stepped back. He was holding his hand up, looking between it and her, while she clutched at her stomach. The ache was already beginning to subside, but she knew he’d felt it too. He came towards her and she tried to step back, but ended up hitting the shelves and forcing the breath from her chest.

“What was - what was that?”

She buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

Gaston made a face and stared down at her. “Belle, just - just let me try again.”

She started to sob, already imagining how this would further ruin her family. “I can’t. It - it hurts too much.”

He leaned in, pressing against her thigh and hip. His arousal was a hard ridge and the thought of it in place of his hand scared her. Her muscles clenched again and she winced, holding up a hand to keep him back.

Belle hesitantly looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, reaching for her skirt again. “I can fix it, I’ll make it good for you.”

He lifted her skirts, his hands pulling at the fabric as he pushed against her. Pain radiated out from her lower abdomen, making her want to bend in half, but his weight pressing into her prevented it. She wanted to want him, but it was hard to find the pleasurable feelings from earlier behind the sharp ache. Her face turned away from his as he tried to kiss her again, and her eyes landed on the writing desk.

“I can’t,” she repeated.

A silver letter opener stuck up out of a slot at the top, its pearl handle shimmering in the late summer light, and she reached for it.

Belle shivered as the memory faded and rubbed her arms, wishing she’d worn a long sleeved dress today or through to bring her shawl.

Outside there was a fresh, thick blanket of snow from a storm that passed through overnight. She’d watched it with Bae and Gold after dinner last night, the three of them sitting together on the sofa in the sitting room that overlooked the garden. She read aloud to them, from a book about a young boy who could talk to horses. Bae liked it so much he made her promise they would bring it back with them to Thornhill, and that she would read it a chapter to him every night until it was finished, though she was of a mind to nudge the boy into reading some himself.

It had been so cozy and perfect, with the crack of the fire and their bellies full of hearty winter stew, roasted vegetables, and warm bread. Gold kept stealing looks at her over Bae’s head where he sat between them, his expression pleased, but tinged with something she couldn’t read. It was easy to imagine many future nights that way, like they were a real family.

Sighing, she moved back to the sofa and sat down in front of the fire. It had been many months since she’d thought about that fateful night with Gaston which had set so many things in motion. Her actions in the moment were impulsive and rash, but she didn’t regret them, not even now that she knew what ruin they had brought upon Avonlea.

Gold had met her for breakfast that morning, and they’d gone to her father immediately after to get the true story of the state of the financial affairs of the estate. To his credit, Maurice was equal parts forthcoming and repentant. He confessed King George had ordered him to take Milton as the new steward, though he didn’t know why at the time. The unmarked payments were to Sir Gaston, to keep the details of the abruptly cancelled engagement quiet.

Belle had exchanged quite a look with Gold at that revelation, and she understood that at some point she would need to lay bare most of the details, though she hoped to keep her own shame a secret. The finances were as bad as she had suspected, with the payments to Gaston increasing in frequency after her marriage to Gold instead of decreasing.

That had made Gold angry, and for a moment she thought he might put his cane through a window, or worse yet, her father, but he reigned in his rage and directed his energy towards setting out a plan to put things right. First, the extortion payments to Gaston would cease, and instead be directed towards paying down the debt to the King. That had made her father very nervous, and the two men had argued back and forth for some time before she couldn’t take it anymore and raised her voice to make them stop.

The very existence of the payments made her furious. As if what had happened between them wasn’t bad enough, Gaston had to use it to cover up his own guilt in the matter, and hasten Avonlea’s insolvency.

Second, Gold would provide a stipend to cover the rest of the existing debt, thus making it appear that the situation was better than it was. Gold wouldn’t be taking on the full account himself, but it made Belle uneasy. She didn’t want to feel even more obligated towards her husband than she already was, though it was for purely prideful reasons than any belief she had that Gold might call on that obligation.

There was no way to ever repay him if he did.

“There you are.”

The sound of Gold’s voice made her smile a little, and she twisted in her seat to see him standing in the doorway of the library. He pushed off the frame and came towards her, his limp the most pronounced she’d ever seen it, even after half carrying her through the snow.

“Were you looking for me?” she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder and came to stand by the end of the sofa. “You didn’t join us for lunch, and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She exhaled and fixed her gaze on the fire. “I’m fine.”

The noise he made was somewhere between a grunt and a scoff as he shifted from one foot to the other. “Are you certain?”

Belle gave him a sideways glance and nodded as she idly rubbed her arms. “As certain as I can be of anything.”

“Cold?” Gold asked, stepping around the sofa.

She sighed. “It’s just a chill. This room was always a bit drafty in the winter.”

He set his cane against the edge of the sofa, and then proceeded to undo the buttons on the front of his coat. She looked up at him, almost startled, and he smiled down at her as he slipped his arms out of the heavy wool sleeves and set the coat over her shoulders. Then he gave her a half smile and sat down at the other end of the sofa, a full cushion between them.

“Thank you,” she said, adjusting the fabric over her shoulders.

He’d done the same thing after rescuing her from nearly freezing to death in the garden not even two days ago, but she’d been too upset and bewildered to comprehend the significance of it. She was wrapped in something that had been warmed by the heat of his body, and there was an intimacy to it that was surprisingly comfortable, as though he made a habit of wearing it only so she could later use it to ward off a chill.

The coat smelled faintly of sandalwood, which she knew was mixed into some of the soaps at Thornhill as there were some in her bathing room as well. It was something she’d come to associate with him, along with a hint of spice and something earthy that reminded her of a forest after a rain. It was odd that she should have thought so much about it, but now that it was surrounding her she couldn’t help it.

“I get the impression you don’t entirely approve of my plan for the estate’s finances?”

His voice almost startled her, and she lifted her face, hoping he had not noticed her surreptitiously sniffing his coat. “Well, I don’t think it’s as simple as me approving or disapproving. It’s - it’s complicated.”

“Much like your relationship with Gaston was.”

She shot him a quick look, and then sighed. "I know I owe you an explanation, and -"

"No," Gold interrupted, "you owe me nothing, except what we've already agreed to as it pertains to Bae."

She met his eyes, hesitantly, and he shifted closer, reaching for her hand.

"But if you want to tell me what happened, I will listen. Please understand that it will make no difference in how I handle this business. A broken engagement, whatever the circumstances, is no cause for blackmail."

He pulled back, the gentle, warm pressure of his hand leaving hers, and she missed it immediately. There was a grounding reassurance in the way he sought out her touch in these moments, anchoring them to each other, but he always let go a little too soon.

"I worry what might happen once Gaston realizes the money has stopped," she said.

Gold nodded. "It will be another month at least before then, but I do share your concern.”

She shook her head and fiddled with the fat brass button on the cuff of his coat. “What can we do?”

“I believe Gaston can be dealt with,” he answered. “I have someone looking into him.”

His cryptic reply made her raise an eyebrow as she twisted in her seat to face him. “Looking into him?”

“Yes.” He saw the twitch of her lips and started to smile. “I like to know as much as I can about my enemies.”

Belle’s eyes widened as she sat back. “Enemies? Gaston is your enemy?”

Gold met her gaze, and her breath caught. His face was stern and his eyes dark; he looked exactly as he did right before he’d attacked Milton, a quiet rage simmering beneath the surface. It wasn’t directed at her, but it still frightened her all the same until he looked away, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“He has done harm to you and your family,” he said, “therefore yes, he is my enemy.” Then he sighed heavily, and his shoulders sagged. “I suspect some of this is my fault, so must the remedy be mine as well.”

She frowned and reached for him, placing her hand on his forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “How do you mean?”

“I’m afraid I have taken some advantage of the situation,” he said, softly, keeping his eyes fixed on his cane as he idly twisted it back and forth. “I suspect that the King became quite disgruntled when he heard I would be marrying you, and thus assuming the estate’s debts.”

Belle let out a soft humorless laugh. “I would believe the latter over the former, but why would he care? Why does he want - “ She stopped and pressed her lips together, emotion rising up in her again at the thought of losing Avonlea. “Why - why here?”

Gold shrugged and sat back, reaching for her free hand as she looked away, swiping quickly at her eyes with the other. “I haven’t sussed out why this estate has become particularly desirable to him, but it won’t happen. I promise.”

His last words made her turn again, and she gave him a wobbly smile. “I know,” she managed. “I - I trust you.”

His face changed then, softening even as he held her hand a little tighter, his thumb rubbing over the simple gold band he’d given her on their wedding day, and she was hit with a revelation. She believed what she’d said. She trusted him, in a way that suddenly seemed implicit and enduring, as though she’d had years to come to the realization.

“When, um - when we get back,” she said, watching the steady motion of his thumb sliding back and forth, “after things are settled with our plans, we need to talk. About things. Do you understand?”

Her eyes met his and she had to bite back a gasp. He looked almost awed, and yet terrified at the same time, and for a long moment she worried that she’d said the wrong thing, that he didn’t understand at all. Then he lifted their joined hands, bringing hers to his lips where he pressed them to her ring, much more firmly than the last time he’d done so. Something had changed, but she couldn't say what, only that she felt warm and flushed head to toe, the chill of the library little more than an afterthought, as he smiled at her.

“Yes,” he said finally, her hand still wrapped in his, “I do.”

[katrandomwrites]

We Come At A Cost

me: Needs to write next chapters for other fic

me: Writes entirely different fic with similar premise

...nice

Read it on AO3

A vigilante by the name Soldier:76 has been working to clear the streets of Santa Fe of an invading gang from Mexico. It isn't until he does some major property damage that the police send and officer after him.

Gabriel has been given the job of taking out 76 on his terms. Taking up the identity of Reaper he chases down 76 in secret, hopefully Jack doesn't wonder where he is.

Reaper skidded back as another round of helix missiles took out the crates he’d been using as cover. He pivoted and sprinted down the alley with the sounds of reinforced boots chasing him.

In the hunt for the notorious anti-hero, Soldier:76, Officer Reyes agreed to take up an alter ego to help draw the other man out. It had taken weeks of work and staged robberies before the ruse had finally bore fruit, hence the current chase through the alleyways.

Soldier:76 had popped up in Santa Fe nearly two years ago as a solo vigilante locked in an uphill battle with the Los Muertos who had been trying to establish themselves in the US with the help of the Deadlock Rebels. Police had been given numerous descriptions and tips from numerous citizens throughout the city of 76 fighting the intruding gang but none were every quick enough to help catch the man.

Many of the officers hadn’t seen a point in chasing the man down, in fact many claimed he was doing a better job of controlling the gang activity than what the department could ever hope to achieve while still functioning within the law. It wasn’t until 76 brought down an entire apartment building that they started to put up an effort in hunting him.

Now Reyes had the menace, or rather, 76 had him. The pair had been locked in battle for close to a half hour with Reyes on the losing side, officers had been stationed across from where the original staged event had occurred but by some unforeseen trick, 76 had managed to get him far from the original area.

“Don’t you even get tired?” Reaper demanded as he dodged another volley of pulse munitions.

“Not when I have my target still in my sights,” the vigilante growled, strafing to the left to avoid the shotgun pellets loosely aimed back at him.

Reaper glanced back and stopped abruptly in the slightly narrower alley they’d entered, 76 had gotten close enough that the sudden stop sent him stumbling behind a dumpster but not before he caught a shell in the side.

Officer Reyes was a transfer from a very corrupt department in the LA area, he and his family had sold everything and moved after a not so subtle threat from his department lead. Not wanting to risk the lives of his husband and their adopted daughter, he had put in for a transfer and was placed several states away.

Jack had been fine with it, all he had to do was file five stacks of paperwork and do a lot of reorganizing to move his law firm to a new location. Having a rich and smart hubby with his own business had more perks than Gabriel had ever thought possible. It was definitely worth all the Spanish lessons that Jack had begged for.

The biggest challenge at this point was getting out of here alive. The mission had been very confidential and it absolutely killed him that he couldn’t vent to his own husband about how annoying it was chasing some white dude with a military fetish around the city while wearing too much leather. He was sure Jack would appreciate it considering their own ties to the Marines and Navy which had led to them meeting in the first place.

It also didn’t help that Jack worked with many of 76’s victims, younger boys who grew up in such horrible poverty that they had never seen a choice in joining a gang. Jack had been determined to get them the help and care they needed to recover both from the damage 76 had inflicted and the damaged the system had been doing to them for years.

Reaper ominously glided over to the spot 76 had disappeared to, sure enough the man was tucked into a corner applying pressure the gushing wound in his side. Jack would probably be happy to have his case load lightened once 76 was behind bars.

“Still having fun?” Reaper hissed, the vocal modifiers in his mask made the sound reverb in the tight space.

76 looked up and cocked his head before swiftly bringing his foot up into Reaper’s chin. Reaper spit curses as he grabbed his mask before it could actually come off.

“Eat shit,” 76 growled even as he curled tighter into himself. The bravado he usually had was quickly fading.

“Not likely, asshole, your time is up. It’s your turn to live a comfy life behind bars, hope you know a good lawyer.”

Soldier:76 flinched hard at that and then even harder as Reaper’s gauntlet made contact with his face and sent the mask and visor he wore skittering across the gravel. A look of absolute horror worked its way onto his face.

Reaper gripped 76’s chin and forced the vigilante to look at him only to be met with the tired blue eyes of his own husband. He froze in shock and didn’t move even as 76 tore his face from Reaper’s hands and shuffled deeper into the corner.

Ice worked its way through his veins as regret, betrayal, and confusion opened a chasm in his chest. He’d just shot his husband. His husband tried to shoot him. Why was Jack running around shooting gang members?

Thoughts raced through Gabriel’s head as he tried to figure out what he’d missed. Jack wasn’t overly combative, he’d spent years in the Navy but, as far as Gabriel knew, Jack hadn’t seen much action. In fact, one of the biggest reasons they had gotten together was the fact that Jack was such a calm and forgiving person.

Reaper looked at the man in front of him. 76 was most definitely not calm, the man’s face was contorted in pain and yet he still managed to look savage and ruthless. His eyes flicked back and forth as if he were trying to figure out how to escape even with a hole in his side.

And then it clicked.

Jack did that during their arguments when he wanted out. If he was going after a case and could see how to win he wouldn’t rest till it was done. The lack of contact the last few months wasn’t because Gabriel was busy, it was because Jack wasn’t around.

“The great defense attorney, Jack Morrison, is out playing vigilante,” Reaper growled, anger starting to burn in his voice. Jack had been laying to him for two goddamn years, “You like beating the shit out of kids now?”

76’s head snapped up and he gave a feral growl, “Those things aren’t kids. They’re no better than animals tearing through the gutters of this city spreading disease.”

Reaper barely managed to catch 76’s fist before it made contact. The sudden power and animosity in Jack’s face was something Gabriel had never seen before.

“They do nothing spread their beliefs through the slums to kids who feel like they have nowhere to go. They give them a false solution to their problems,” 76 snapped before swiftly kicking Reaper in the chest causing the other to fall on his back before 76 stood up, “Do you think I like shooting fucking children? At least I’ve been trying to do something useful unlike those idiots in the police department.”

Gabriel pushed himself up from the ground and stalked towards the shaky vigilante, “It’s their job not yours, no matter what you think. Besides, what happens now that you’ve been caught? What happens to your family or do you even care?”

Reaper almost wasn’t fast enough to dodge the pulse fire as 76 snapped. He turned to fire back when the fire escape above him was shot down and pinned him to the ground.

“If I quit now I won’t have a family to go back to,” Jack growled as he limped closer, the side of his jacket was stained completely red with blood, “They want to take my daughter, but they can’t have her.”

The seriousness of the situation was suffocating as Gabriel took in the fact that the Los Muertos were trying to get a hold of Sombra, his baby girl. She was a genius in every respect, she could hack and program faster than anyone he knew plus she could outsmart even the SWAT team’s captain in tactics.

An explosion erupted behind them, igniting the piles of garbage surrounding the pair. Two young boys, no older than 15, in ragged t-shirts and body paint strolled nonchalantly around the corner.

76 turned his face away from them and glared down at Reaper.

“If you want me so bad you can drag my corpse back for your reward,” he spit before turning running towards the boys and firing.

Gabriel could only watch as another grenade came flying towards them, he realized that both of them dying was a distinct possibility. That is, until Jack caught the projectile midair and flung it back at their assailants.

The explosion was blinding. Once the chaos died down, Gabriel worked his way out from under the fire escape and surveyed the damage.

The kids seemed to have gotten away but Jack was lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Gabriel scrambled over to him and checked his pulse before sitting back on his heels and deciding his next move.

If he turned Jack in it would ruin him, even as pissed as he was about Jack being out here he still loved the idiot with all his heart. Hell, if Gabriel was being honest with himself the fact that Jack cared enough to put himself at risk to help those who needed it from both sides while protecting his family in the process made him almost proud, but mostly pissed.

Gabriel sighed and made his decision. Carefully, he stripped Jack of everything that made him 76 and tossed in into the trash that was still raging next to them before gently picking him up. The hospital didn’t question them man in black as they whisked Jack off to surgery.

He went home, changed, and waited for the call. Nearly an hour later he and Sombra were at the hospital to see Jack who had been brought in after being brutally attacked coming home from a late night at the office. Sombra curled into his good side and fell asleep while Gabriel held his hand. Jack hadn’t woken up yet and the staff wasn’t sure when he would finally open his eyes but Gabe wasn’t worried.

Carefully, Gabe stood and leaned over the bed to place a kiss to Jack’s forehead. He studied every familiar wrinkle, curve, and dip in his face and smiled.

They would be okay.

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND Christmas Day – Holmes and Watson, Vice

This is it. The last column of the year and at one point, this was going to be my last column ever.  I’ve just been very frustrated with the fact that I can’t get paid writing work despite being a film critic for over 17 years now. The times are changing, and the last eight months since I lost my job at Tracking Board has been an incredible drag, as I try to stay motivated to write about movies even though it’s obvious no one wants to pay me to do so.

That all said, I’m going to make this a shorter column, and yes, I’ll be back next week (and next year) with my first column of 2019 on Jan. 2, so hopefully you’ll all stick around.

In the meantime, also check out this year’s Top 25 movies!

HOLMES & WATSON (Sony)

Comedian and former “SNL” star Will Ferrell has been somewhat absent from theaters this year after appearing in two movies in 2017, one (Daddy’s Home 2) more successful than the other (The House). It was only a matter of time before he would be reunited with John C. Reilly, co-star of two of his most successful comedies, 2006’s Talladega Nightsand 2008’s Step Brothers, both which achieved the $100 million milestone. Sure, Ferrell has had a number of $100 million comedies since then, but it certainly feels like he needs a change, so what else, but a comedy based on Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Watson, as played by Ferrell and Reilly?

Reilly has been having moderate degrees of success in the ten years since Step Brothers, particularly with Disney’s animated Wreck-It Ralph in 2012, which grossed $189 million domestic, and the recent sequel Ralph Breaks the Internet, which is almost out of the top 10 this week with more than $160 million.  He’s also appeared in stranger places like 2017’s hit Kong: Skull Island and Marvel Studios’ Guardians of the Galaxy. Earlier this year, he received critical raves for his role in the Western The Sisters Brothersand also appears this week in the British indieStan and Ollie, playing Oliver Hardy.

Both of the duo’s previous movies opened with more than $30 million – Talladega Nights with an astounding $47 million opening – but both also opened in summer and over ten years ago. Although the Anchorman sequel fared decently over the holidays nine years after the original movie, that was a direct sequel whereas this is the duo doing a spoof.   Ferrell’s comedy Daddy’s Home opened with $38.7 million over Christmas weekend in 2015, but that was because its Christmas Day opening was a Friday vs. a Tuesday.  If  Holmes and Watson gets some of the diehard Step Brothers fans out to see it earlier in the week, it’s not gonna have that much business left for the weekend.

Missing from the tried-and-true comedy equation is director Adam McKay, Ferrell’s production partner, who has moved onto other things (see below), and this comedy is the work of filmmaker Etan Cohen, who wrote the cool comedies Idiocracy and Tropic Thunder, as well as writing and directing Ferrell’s horrible comedy Get Hard. (Yikes!)

It’s that last bit that has me worried, and it certainly won’t help that the movie looks idiotic, plus it’s coming out just seven years after the Robert Downey-Jude Law sequel Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, which grossed $186 million over the holidays in 2011 despite not being as well received as its predecessor. Wisely (or fearfully?), Sony decided not to screen the movie in advance for critics.

While the movie might make $4 to 5 million on Christmas Day, it’s likely to follow other Christmas releases where it will slowly lose business on Wednesday and Thursday so by the weekend, it will probably be lucky to make $15 million and likely will make less with stronger films still playing in theaters.

VICE (Annapurna Pictures)

The other movie being released on Christmas Day is Adam McKay’s new movie, and if you’re wondering if that’s the same Adam McKay that directed Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly in Step Brothers and Talladega Nights, yes it is!

McKay continues his serious filmmaker stage following 2015’s The Big Short, which received five Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, and a win for McKay’s screenplay. It also grossed an impressive $70.2 million after a $10.5 million wide release over Christmas weekend that year. (Oddly, the movie’s expansion went up against Ferrell’s Daddy’s Home in its opening weekend.) That year, Christmas Day fell on a Friday but McKay’s foray into political humor – he had previously written for “Saturday Night Live,” as well as political comedies The Campaign and co-wrote and directed Ferrell’s George W. Bush Broadway show You’re Welcome America.

Clearly, McKay has as much an interest in politics as he does comedy, and the “Vice” of the title is former US Vice President Dick Cheney, as played by Christian Bale in another transformative role that’s likely to at least get him an Oscar nomination. Yes, this is more of a biopic than The Big Short, and it’s definitely going to be more divisive than Anchorman due to its politics.

Bale is once again joined by the amazing Amy Adams from David O. Russell’s American Hustle, and she may be heading for yet another Oscar nomination… and possibly a win this time? The movie also stars recent Oscar winner Sam Rockwell as Bush Jr, and McKay regular Steve Carell playing Donald Rumsfeld, just days after his latest movie Welcome to Marwen bombed very, very badly.

What The Big Short has that Vice doesn’t is a name star on the par of Brad Pitt, but also it’s being released by relative newbie Annapurna Pictures vs. Paramount, who has much more clout to release movies around awards time. (Oddly, Paramount also released Daddy’s Home the very same weekend it released The Big Short – that’s how much confidence the studio had in both movies!)

Reviews so far haven’t been great, at least not on par with The Big Short, though that doesn’t mean that the Academy will ignore a movie that already has a lot of Golden Globe and SAG nominations under its belt.

The awards recognition will drive the audience curiosity, even for those poor suckers on the Right who may realize that McKay’s movie will generally be biased towards the liberal side of things. Opening on Christmas Day Tuesday may mean that those who are really interested in seeing the movie will rush out to one of the 2,378 theaters into which Vice is being released.

I figure Vice can make a solid $3 or even $4 million on Christmas Day, but it will peter away after that, and the lack of school and many people having off work should help it make between $7 and 9 million over the weekend, as it works its way to around $40 million or higher depending on awards, making it Annapurna’s highest-grossing release (as a distributor) to date.

Mini-Review: Imagine if you’re Adam McKay, and you’re finally being taken seriously as a filmmaker after you tackled real-world sociopolitical issues with The Big Short, then of course, you’d want to follow that up with a movie that can be taken just as seriously. So why not make a biopic about a controversial Republican Vice President in Dick Cheney and have an actor like Christian Bale transform himself to play him?

Sure, on paper it sounds fine, and as long as you go into Vice realizing it’s a comedy with a small “c” yet also realizing you should only take it seriously to a point, and you should be fine. The film acts as a thesis, of sorts, to show how Cheney masterminded the unwarranted invasion of Iraq that killed thousands of soldiers. Once Cheney becomes VP, the film becomes far more clinical and far less entertaining, as if McKay would rather be mentioned in the same breath as Michael Moore, than be remembered as the director of such great comedies. There are still more than a few funny ideas like having the movie abruptly ending before Cheney goes back to the White House to support Bush Jr., but by then, he’s already done his damage by reinstating the executive order.

The film is a showcase for another jaw-dropping Christian Bale transformation as he channels the former VP in his early days, and then gets some added help from the make-up department in his later years. Either way, it’s the type of performance that makes you frequently forget you’re watching Bale. Amy Adams is also fantastic as Lynn Cheney, who plays a pivotal role in all aspects of Dick’s life, a performance strong enough to get another Oscar nomination. (The Cheney’s in-bed Shakespeare recitation is another one of the film’s weirder moments.) Then there’s Sam Rockwell, funny as always playing George W, and a surprising turn by Tyler Perry as Colin Powell (a small role), which leaves Steve Carell as the film’s weakest link, because Donald Rumsfeld basically just doesn’t seem too far removed from other Carell characters.

Some of the film’s better moments are in showing the evolution of Cheney’s relationship with his two daughters, the youngest Mary who comes out as gay in college, putting a damper on Cheney’s future Presidential chances. (She also becomes estranged from the family when her older sister speaks out against gay marriage during her own political run.)

Where the film really goes off the rails is with its narrator, played by Jesse Plemons, as you spend the entire movie hearing his voice, then seeing his character in various spots without understanding the connection. When his connection to Cheney is finally revealed, you are left aghast that McCay would go that route, and it almost kills the entire film.

Vice isn’t great but it isn’t terrible, and it’s no surprise this is already quite divisive even when not considering the film’s obvious politics. Either way, it’s not as strong a political biopic as either The Front Runner or On the Basis of Sex.

Rating: 7/10

Considering that there’s a lot of strong movies already in theaters, the two new wide releases will probably end up somewhere in the mid-range by Friday  , so this weekend’s Top 10 should look something like this…

1. Aquaman (Warner Bros.)  - $40.5 million -45% 2. Mary Poppins Returns  (Disney) - $18 million -19% 3. Bumblebee (Paramount) - $15.5 million -26% 4. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse  (Sony) - $14.2 million -15% 5. Holmes and Watson  (Sony) - $13.7 million N/A 6. Vice (Annapurna) - $8 million N/A 7. The Mule (Warner Bros.) - $7.5 million -25% 8.Second Act (STXfilms) - $6.8 million +7% 9. Ralph Breaks the Internet  (Disney) – $5 million +9% 10. The Grinch  (Universal) - $4.5 million -45%

LIMITED RELEASES

On Christmas Day, there are a bunch of movies that have been playing the festival circuit, including two that made it onto my top 25.

Oscar nominee Felicity Jones plays Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg in Mimi Leder’s ON THE BASIS OF SEX (Focus Features), a film that looks at her years going through Harvard Law School while helping her ill-stricken husband (played by Armie Hammer), leading up to the two of them going in front of the Supreme Court to fight for gender equality. If you enjoyed the doc RBG released earlier this year, this excellent drama gives even more life and emotion to the story of this amazing, inspiring woman who has done so much for civil rights in this country. Sadly, it seems to have been ignored during awards/festival season, but I think Jones gives another awards-worthy performance, and it will be playing in roughly 33 theaters across the country starting Christmas Day.

I was also a big fan of STAN AND OLLIE  (Sony Pictures Classics), as in Laurel and Hardy, as played by Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly. Directed by Scottish filmmaker Jon S. Baird (Filth) from a fantastic original script by Jeff Pope, the film begins with the duo’s final days at Hal Roach Studios, then cuts forward decades later when the duo are signed to play a series of live shows in England, a tour that isn’t going particularly well, at least to begin. It’s a fantastic story of the relationship between this incredibly talented duo, and one can’t overlook the contribution of Nina Arianda and Shirley Henderson as Stan and Ollie’s respective wives who add a lot to the humor. It will open in New York and L.A. on Friday and fingers crossed it will expand in the new year to other areas.

Nicole Kidman in her third movie of the year glams it down in Karyn Kusama’s DESTROYER (Annapurna Pictures), playing detective Erin Bell, who is investigating a murder that has connections to an undercover assignment she took on earlier in her career. This is another fantastic performance by Kidman in terms of playing this person who has clearly been put through the wringer over the course of her life, and I love seeing Kusama continuing with the genre realm in which she’s already done some decent explorations. It opens in select cities Christmas Day.

Also, if you happened to miss Peter Jackson’s World War I doc THEY SHALL NOT GROW OLD (Warner Bros./Fathom Events) on Monday, December 17, then you’ll get another chance this Thursday, December 28, so definitely check it out while you have a chance to see it on the big screen in 3D as it was intended.

REPERTORY

Similar to last week, much of this week’s repertory offerings are continuations of the past few weeks with most of the new series beginning in the new year.

METROGRAPH  (NYC):

The Metrograph’s holiday series will include screenings of Bad Santa, The Muppet Christmas Carol and 3 Godfathers on Christmas Day as well as the continuing Miyazaki at Studio Ghibli series and In the Year of the Grifter. This week’s Playtime: Family Matinee is the excellent Gotham Award-winning doc Mad Hot Ballroom (2005).

THE NEW BEVERLY  (L.A.):

Christmas Day sees Laurel and Hardy’s March of the Wooden Soldiers (1934) paired with the Marx Brothers’ Horse Feathers (1932) as well as the roadshow version of Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight. Weds and Thursday sees double features of Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) and What’s So Bad About Feeling Good? (1968), but Friday and Saturday sees a double feature of The Poseidon Adventure (1972) and Beyond the Poseidon Adventure (1979). Saturday and Sunday’s family friendly film is Joe Dante’s Gremlins (1984), while the Saturday midnight movie is New Year’s Evil (1980). Sunday and Monday, there will be double features of The Godfatherand The Valachi Papers, both from 1972.

FILM FORUM  (NYC):

Besides the Christmas with Nat King Cole program on Christmas Day, the Film Forum will kick off a week-long run of Mitchell Leisen’s Easy Living (1937) with a screenplay by Preston Sturges and starring Jean Arthur. The weekend’s Film Forum Jr. is Laurel and Hardy’s Way Out West (1937), probably to tie-in with Stan and Ollie, which shows the filming of the movie. The Film Forum will have a single presentation of Susan Dryfoos’ 1996 doc The Line King: The Al Hirschfeld Story will be screened in 35mm with a QnA with Hirschfeld’s wife and the film’s director to follow.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE  (LA):

Although closed on Christmas Eve and Day, the theater will show the 70mm version of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey for the rest of the week.

AERO  (LA):

Also closed on Christmas, but it will reopen on Thursday, Dec. 27 with the start of its Screwball Comedy Classics 2018, beginning with Ernst Lubich’s The Shop Around the Corner (1940), paired with Christmas In Connecticut (1945). Also part of that series is Friday’s WC Fields double feature of It’s a Gift (1934) and Never Give a Sucker An Even Break (1941), Saturday is Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night (1934) with Midnight (1939), both starring Claudette Colbert, and Sunday is a Preston Sturges double feature of The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek and Hal the Conquering Hero, both from 1944. On New Year’s Day, the Aero will show the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup(1933).

QUAD CINEMA  (NYC):

What’s a better way to spend Xmas than with the Quad’s Rated X  series? (Trenchcoat optional.)

IFC CENTER  (NYC)

The downtown theater will open a 75thanniversary digital restoration of the cinema classic Casablanca (1942), beginning on Wednesday.

FILM SOCIETY OF LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

Jacques Tourneur, Fearmaker continues through Jan 3.

MOMA  (NYC):

Modern Masters: Douglas Fairbanks Jr.concludes this week with reshowings of Gunga Din (1939) on Weds, Little Caesar (1931) on Thurs and The Corscian Brothers (1941) on Friday. The retrospective Ugo Tognazzi: Tragedies of a Ridiculous Man also concludes on Sunday.

That’s it for this year, but I’ll be back next week (on Wednesday) with Escape Roomand more. Happy New Year!