#me who hasn't had a writing idea in six months: i should write this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coraniaid · 17 days ago

Text

Giles: "Why should someone want to harm Cordelia?" Willow: "Maybe because they met her?"

OK, for the record I like Witch a lot. I think it's a very solid episode of Buffy, even if there are still a couple of odd early-show moments now and then. Not quite top tier, even for this season, but it's a very promising beginning.

Or is it?

Amy Madison herself will never become a regular character in the way the ending of this episode very much implies she will be. (Amy knows about magic! she knows Buffy has superpowers, and that Buffy, Giles, Xander and Willow investigate supernatural problems! she is friends with Willow and, by the end of the episode, seems to be becoming friends with Buffy! To misquote Willow at the end of this season, how come she's not in the club? Even if not as a regular, it would have been nice to see her again in Prophecy Girl or something.). Other than Cordelia herself, I don't think we see any of the would-be cheerleaders again. Robin Riker, who plays Catherine Madison, obviously won't be back either. And Dana Reston (the writer of this episode) won't write for the show again, nor will Stephen Cragg return as director. In a lot of ways, Witch feels like less a foretaste of what is yet to come than it is a glimpse at a slightly different future of the show than the one we actually got. And I think that's pretty fascinating.

Don't let the fact that the random thoughts below are mostly nitpicks or complaints fool you: I've had a soft spot for this episode for a long time and this latest rewatch hasn't changed that at all.

Not at all an original observation on my part, but the episode is called 'Witch' (and not 'The Witch', despite how it's often reported) because it's meant to be a kind of pun. Which witch is which? It's easy to miss because … well, there really isn't much of a mystery here. We aren't introduced to a single suspect other than Amy, and the idea that "Amy" might not be the real Amy is only raised towards the end of the episode (and not in a way that leaves much doubt that Buffy is correct).

For all the build-up of how much practising the would-be cheerleaders have to do just to be contenders, the actual cheer routines (Amber's pre-credits tryout aside) are pretty … lackluster? These girls had to get specialist trainers and work for hours a day for months just to memorize chants like "Six, seven, eight" and "Go Sunnydale Go"?

Not to keep banging the 'why does the show keep introducing new characters and forgetting about the old ones?' drum (I know why, it just bothers me) but: why isn't Harmony trying out for the cheerleading squad? Years from now, the show will retcon that Harmony was a cheerleader (I don't believe it's ever actually established during the high school seasons) but there's no sign of her here. Again, given that Harmony was a named character despite her limited screen time back in The Harvest last episode, it just feels a little weird to me. Is Harmony important or not? If the show was being adapted to any medium other than network television, it feels like she definitely would be here. (Of course, back in March 1997 her absence wouldn't have stood out in the same way. It's only a problem with the benefit of hindsight.)

"You're the Slayer and we're the Slayerettes." I've said it before but I still think 'the Slayerettes' is a (much) better name for the group than the Scooby Gang.

Apart from the exchange I quoted at the top of this post, I also like "It's not what you think!" / "You like to look at the semi-nude engravings?" / "OK, it is what you think." And, yes, "I laugh in the face of danger ... then I hide until it goes away." And Giles's "That's the thrill of living on the Hellmouth! There's a veritable cornucopia of fiends and devils and ghouls to engage ... well, pardon me for finding the glass half full."

Xander telling Willow that she's "like a guy … my guy friend who knows about girls" is obviously in the script to set up Buffy later telling him she likes him because he's "one of the girls", but it feels slightly out of place because it's not at all clear to me that Xander has any guy friends at all. Or, indeed, before meeting Buffy, that he has any friends at all except Willow. Except for Jesse, of course, who … right. Actually, @btvsobsessed mentioned recently that this was the first episode to be filmed, and -- not knowing much about how these things were written -- I wonder if Dana Reston didn't even know 'Jesse' was a character that was going to have existed when she wrote this one.

There's also no Angel (again, given his late addition to the cast, maybe this episode was written before there was an Angel?) or any other vampire, making this one of the rare handful of episodes to be entirely vampire free. Again, a somewhat fascinating choice to have the first regular episode of a show about a Vampire Slayer not feature any vampires at all. Not even a mention of the Master either. Buffy says "we haven't seen a vampire in over a week", but it's not clear if the last time she saw a vampire was in last episode's The Harvest or if there have been any other off-screen vampire slayings taking place. In general, this episode could have been a sequel to the unaired pilot and (other than the new actor playing Willow) worked just as well or better as it does as a follow-up to the actual opening episodes.

Obviously it's possible to read this episode (and the previous two) as Willow having a crush on Xander. Retroactively that's the reading that makes most sense. But oddly enough I don't think the show has actually made this crush explicit yet. We know that Xander and Willow "used to date" when they were five and that Willow went to the Bronze hoping to run into him, but Willow doesn't seem obviously bothered by Xander's interest in Buffy -- she encourages him to ask her out, even -- and at Buffy's prompting in Welcome To The Hellmouth she went to talk to a guy who wasn't Xander (but who was, admittedly, a vampire). I know it's definitely established canon by The Pack, but I can't remember if we get any real hint of it before that episode. Which is odd, because in my mind that was basically one of Willow's two main personality traits this season (the other trait was being good with computers, and that one admittedly is on full display this episode).

"First vampires, now witches. No wonder you can still afford a house in Sunnydale." Okay, for the sake of balance I should acknowledge that this line -- and the fact Amy had her body stolen "a few months ago" -- is probably evidence in favour of the fact that weirdness in Sunnydale does predate Buffy's arrival and the Master's most recent attempt to escape from his supernatural prison. (I keep wanting to type 'escape the Hellmouth', but that's not quite where he is, right?) Even though I think this is meant to be more of a tongue-in-cheek statement here than the fact the show will later treat it as.

It bugs me slightly that Buffy tells Joyce that Amy trains with her mom for "three hours a day", because that's not actually what 'Amy' told her. 'Amy' actually claims she trains for six hours a day ("three hours in the morning, three at night"). Of course, we don't know how much of this story is supposed to be true -- 'Amy' obviously isn't training with her mother at all -- but I think we are meant to think she spent a lot of time training and tried to get on the team (mostly) honestly before resorting to magic. I think Catherine was expecting her second go around at high school to be a lot easier than she actually found it. (I assume she only went after Amber so early because she was obviously so much better than everyone else and she didn't want to have to play second fiddle to her.) It's interesting to me, anyway, in light of the show's later lore, that Catherine doesn't just use magic to make people think she's good at cheerleading but felt the need to (at least initially) try to win on merit.

Relatedly, I've seen people suggest that the scene where Cordelia confronts Amy after the group audition is a bit of a cheat: something that only exists to misdirect the audience but doesn't make sense when you know 'Amy' is really Catherine. I don't think I agree though: I think it's a nice character beat. I think we're meant to read Catherine's frustration at not being able to "get my [new] body to move like [my old one]" as completely genuine. Catherine really thought that if her daughter just tried as hard as she did she'd be able to walk into the cheerleading squad, and is confused and upset by the dawning realization that this isn't true. She's nonplussed by being confronted by Cordelia because it's not a situation the teenage Catherine ever experienced herself: she was the popular and competent cheerleader who got to judge the other girls, not the clumsy wannabe getting judged.

The part of the plot I do think is a bit of a cheat is Amy's apparent surprise at Lishanne being the victim of a spell. "She was as freaked out as the rest of us!" declares Xander. "I don't think she realizes what she was doing," decides Buffy. And this motivates them to (eventually) go and talk to Amy's mother (and also to conveniently leave Amy alone for one more night and let her curse Buffy next). Only … uh. It's not true. "Amy" didn't have any reason to be surprised at all. She knows exactly what she's doing and doesn't show any hesitation or remorse ever again. It's just a pointless delay, and it never gets brought up in the script again, not even a throwaway line about her being a better actor than they'd realized or something.

Obviously Giles not having cast any sort of magical spell before will turn out later to be what we might politely call a fib, but I don't think the writers had any idea about that this episode. I also don't think they had any plans for either Willow or Xander later coming out as gay, despite what Whedon may have later claimed, or Willow becoming a witch, or the later metaphorical link between these two things. But obviously Willow's early forays into magic here are some neat accidental foreshadowing (it's also noteworthy that science and magic aren't treated as being in opposition here: I think that's just not a thing until Season 4.)

… embarrassingly, I was going to say "it would have been a nice bit of continuity if the unnamed science teacher here had been Dr Gregory from next episode", but I looked it up after watching the episode and apparently … he is?? I genuinely don't think I knew that. In my mind Dr Gregory was always a one-off, one-episode character. (In my mind and, I suspect, as asserted as fact in some of my older posts. Oh well.)

I think the show deserves a couple of points for tying Catherine Madison's status as Sunnydale's Worst Mom to an obsession with dieting and staying thin, and for suggesting Amy apparently "losing a lot of weight" since Willow last saw her is a warning sign something is wrong with her home life. And for linking Amy's newfound happiness after being freed from her mother's control to making plans to make brownies and taking about "getting fat". However, it loses all those points (and about a million more) because Amy is not, in fact, fat at any point we see her on screen and never becomes so, something that can be equally said for every single female actor who ever appears on the show. There is, also, a slightly unpleasant irony to a show like this -- full of current or former child actors -- writing an episode whose moral is that children should be allowed to eat normally and think about getting fat and not be forced to vicariously live out the dreams of their parents at the cost of any semblance of a regular childhood.

I have various thoughts about what this episode means for the character of Joyce Summers -- I don't think it's a particular stretch to say that this episode is, first and foremost, about Buffy's relationship with her mother in a way that the first two episodes didn't really touch on -- but I will save them for their own post.

#btvs #btvs-weekly-group-rewatch

16 notes · View notes

traintrainingmontage · 4 months ago

Note

congrats on reaching 150 followers!!!! :DDDDD I was thinking for this prompt...... maybe Rajiv losing his crown?

THANK YOU BREDDO!! 💖 Rajiv is such a fun character, and I've never written him before, so I was happy to give him a try! Or, well... put him through it, as the case may be.

This one took me quite a while, but it was fun! For some reason, this one ended up feeling like an episode from the show!

(Have a prompt I should write about? My inbox needs ideas! Find out more here!)

Some had called it vanity, while others called it foolishness. Wearing as delicate of an accessory as a crown while working was practically inviting disaster, given that it could so easily be lost or damaged, and given the engine involved, such a thing would have most certainly caused a massive upset.

For Rajiv, however, wearing his crown was a necessity. Whenever anyone inquired about why he was so attached to it, Rajiv would proudly proclaim himself to be a "royal engine" and patronizingly explain that royal engines wore crowns, hence why he too needed to be wearing his at all times. Such an answer had promptly quashed the curiosity of anyone he'd worked with, from the railway staff to his fellow engines, although Charubala often seemed to think that there was something more to it. If there was, however, Rajiv seemed particularly disinclined to elaborate, and his Controller never wanted to push.

One fine evening, after the day's work had concluded, the cleaners came as they usually did to clean out Rajiv's cinderbox and ashpan, as well as take his crown for its monthly polishing. The two had barely started their work when Rajiv shouted "Oh! Be gentler! That's no way to treat a ROYAL engine. And when you clean my crown, be sure to get every speck of dust! I cannot be SEEN looking anything less than my best! And furthermore--"

The duo soon tuned out his demands, shooting each other weary looks. No wonder Rajiv's staff experienced such a high rate of turnover; nobody had managed to last more than six months tending to His Prissiness and by the look of it, this group wouldn't last long either. It was a wonder that his crew put up with him as they did.

Once the rest of the cleaning was done, one of the cleaners put up a ladder, and gestured for the other to operate the hook and winch. Slowly, the hook came down, and the one on the ladder adjusted the crown so that he could easily attach it to the hook. Rajiv swallowed nervously, but did his best to stay as still as possible, allowing the duo to work, and before long, the crown was being lifted off of his head and placed on a cart nearby to be taken into the back for polishing.

"Be GENTLE with my crown!" Rajiv called. "It musn't be damaged!"

"Of COURSE not, Rajiv," one of the cleaners, a burly man with a long, trim beard, called out. "We will have this polished and returned to you--"

"Hmph! Of course you will; it's your job, after all."

"You know," hissed the other, a muscular woman with a pierced lip and fierce brown eyes, "you could say 'thank you' once in a while."

"Yes, yes," Rajiv replied, his tone dismissive. "Now hurry up! I want my crown back as soon as possible!" A thin undercurrent of anxiety could be heard in his tone, but it went unnoticed by the two cleaners, who were too busy shooting him disgruntled looks.

As the cleaners rolled the cart holding the crown off toward the workshop, one of them suddenly had an idea. "Hey, Nikhil," the woman said. "That bratty engine needs to be taken down a notch. How about we tell him we can't find his crown, and magically spot it once he actually thanks us?"

Nikhil raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Tina," he replied, his hesitation evident. "Charubala might have something to say about that."

"Oh please," Tina groaned. "She knows his attitude's a problem, but others have tried bringing it up to her before, and she hasn't done anything. I'm sick of it!"

Nikhil bit his lip, clearly mulling it over, but after a moment, he nodded. "...Alright. If this is what it takes to get some respect around here, then fine. I know of just the place to stash this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And that's what we want, Charubala," Nikhil explained the next morning, arms crossed alongside Tina as they stared down their Controller. Rajiv's wailing this morning had brought her running to the sheds, only to find that his cleaners were claiming that his crown had "somehow gone missing" and that "maybe if he was kinder to them, it would be found." She'd quickly shuffled the two cleaners into her office to explain the situation, which now left her at a crossroads.

"All we want's a little respect," Tina agreed, nodding toward Nikhil. "We don't know why His Ponciness is so obsessed with that crown, but the way he treats us isn't right."

Charubala took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. "I understand your feelings," she began, "but you have stolen railway property. There must have been some other way to air your grievances other than--"

"Ma'am, you must realize how often people quit this job," Tina interrupted. "Frankly, we don't feel that we've been listened to. Rajiv continues to be rude, disrespectful, and force us to work overtime to meet all of his demands. Hopefully, this is what it will take to get you both to listen."

The Controller's expression was steely, her face drawing in tight in an expression of carefully controlled ire. "I am listening, alright. I appreciate that you both have brought this to my attention, but your actions were out of line. You both will be put on four months of unpaid leave for this. As for Rajiv... it seems that it is past time that I addressed this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clack clack clack. Charubala's shoes echoed on the floor of the shed as she approached Rajiv, who was still quite beside himself with distress. His crew were currently trying to soothe him, but their efforts seemed to be of little help. The other engines looked on with pity in their eyes, but they didn't say a word--it was not their place to be involved.

As she approached, the brightly colored engine's eyes snapped up to lock with hers. "Did... did you find it?"

The Controller sighed. "Not yet. I have people looking for it, but it will take some time. In the meantime, Rajiv... the people who lost your crown have been quite upset with how you've treated them. I know that your crown is important to you, but you must be more gracious to the ones who take care of you."

Rajiv said nothing for a long moment, his eyes wavering, before he seemed to slump, as if ashamed. "I know, Charubala... but it's my crown. It's more important than anything. I'm... I'm not..."

Rajiv bit his lip, and his Controller took a breath, preparing herself to wade into somewhat touchy territory. "Rajiv... why do you feel so strongly about your crown? I have long known that it is incredibly important to you, but you have never told me why. I would like to know."

Charubala spoke softly, just loud enough for Rajiv and his crew to hear, but not the rest of the shed, and the engine before her took a shaky breath, suddenly seeming more unsure than she'd ever thought he could be. "I... it's... phew. It's because... of Fairy Queen."

The name of India's most famous engine caused Charubala to blink, surprised at the fact that Rajiv was bringing her up now. However, she didn't speak, simply allowing him to organize his thoughts.

"Fairy Queen is so famous and beautiful," Rajiv murmured, as though confessing to something deeply personal. "I'm based on her design, with some modifications, but she's way more famous than I could ever be. I know I was only entered into the Great Railway Show because she couldn't make it."

Charubala's eyes widened at that; she'd thought that knowledge had been under lock and key, but somehow Rajiv had found out... or he'd just intuited such a thing. Either way, she was rather shocked that he'd felt this way for so long, yet hadn't said a word.

"I know that I was just a modified replica," Rajiv breathed, as though he was struggling to get the words out. "I know that. I'll never be as beloved as she is. But I... wearing my crown is the only way that I feel like I can be. It's the only way for me to feel like a famous, special engine; not a version of Fairy Queen, but just me, Rajiv. I..." Tears began to fall, rivers running down his cheeks as Rajiv's frames heaved with emotion, a long-suppressed secret bursting forth at last.

"Is that how you truly think of yourself, Rajiv?" Charubala asked in dismay, slowly reaching up to wipe her engine's tears away. "You are in no way inferior to Fairy Queen. Naturally, she is your predecessor, but you are your own self, living your own life. Who could compare you two?"

"Everyone does," Rajiv choked out. "I heard it constantly at the Great Railway Show. Everyone wanted to see Fairy Queen. They thought I was fine, but... I wasn't her. Even while filming the movie, people said things like 'too bad we couldn't get Fairy Queen, but Rajiv is alright.' It's everywhere. Only with my crown do I feel like... like maybe I could also be a King or a Prince worthy of respect."

Charubala sighed, her hand slowly rubbing at Rajiv's cheek. "Well, even if that's what people say, you and I both know that you are so much more than a version of Fairy Queen or her substitute. You are Rajiv, my wonderful, hard-working engine. You do not need a crown to be respected, nor do you need to compare yourself to Fairy Queen. All I ask is that you remember to respect those who care for you. Respect is not earned through accessories and showmanship; it is earned by being respectful to others in turn."

With a shuddering breath, Rajiv's tears finally tapered off as he once again locked eyes with Charubala. "I... alright. I'm sorry, Charubala. I've been a really foolish engine, haven't I?"

"I would not call you foolish," Charubala soothed, "but I will expect you to be better in the future. In the meantime, I shall work on finding your crown."

"Alright," Rajiv agreed, a look of relief crossing his face. "But until then... thank you, Sanjeev. Thank you, Sheena. For everything."

Rajiv's driver and fireman, who had both been rather quiet during this discussion, looked up in surprise, before wide smiles crossed both of their faces. "Of course, Rajiv!" Sheena, his driver, smiled, her voice gentle. "It's our pleasure. Thank you for telling us about your crown."

"Indeed," chimed Sanjeev, Rajiv's fireman. "We've long known how you can get... touchy about your crown, but we had no idea it meant so much to you. Even without it, though, you are truly a magnificent engine."

The words caused Rajiv's fire to warm, and for a moment, he thought he might start crying again. "I... thank you! Let's get going!"

"Alright!" Rajiv's crew clambered into his cab, and Charubala explained their assignments. Once they were off, the Controller couldn't help but smile to herself.

"Perhaps our Little Prince has finally grown up."

#te answers questions #te writes trains #ttte fanfic #march 2025 prompt event #ttte rajiv #ttte charubala

15 notes · View notes

vilevenom · 1 year ago

Text

Part five of the ficlet collection for "Hello My Old Heart"!~

Wedding vows are hard to write. I'm just gonna say that much. I also won't lie - I struggled a bit with this one, for some reason. Hope y'all enjoy it, anyway! Previous parts: Let's Be Us Again | Suddenly, Everything Has Changed | Sleeping In | Early Birdie | Smother Me | Marry You

((Hopefully the links work. I will be forever sad if they don't))

Wedding planning should not be difficult. Mind, wedding planning was not John Dory's forte. He and Hickory had discussed a couple of ideas; primarily wanting a smaller guest list and how they would write their own vows, but that was about it. He truly had no idea how to go about inviting the guests, book a venue, arrange food…none of it. But then Poppy had caught wind of how abysmally his planning had been going, and it had been taken right out of his hands completely. He was infinitely grateful to her, really. However, Poppy's idea of what his wedding should be like and his own were quite different.

"Honestly, Popstar, it's fine. Hickory and I are good even just standing in the middle of a field and saying our vows, if it comes down to it. We don't need all this fan fare," John said quickly, watching as Poppy flipped through several wedding scrapbooks, going back and forth between them all while making notes. She looked up at him with a little frown.

"No way. You're Branch's oldest brother, and you were a member of BroZone! This is going to be big, and amazing! Trust me," Poppy said, waving a dismissive hand through the air.

John frowned and glanced at Branch, who was busy fiddling with some new invention of his off to the side. "Branch! Tell her to stop."

Branch spared John a short glance, only to roll his eyes and go back to his tools. "You're a big troll now, John Dory. Use your words."

John huffed out a breath, turning back to Poppy. She had color swatches out now and was holding them up near John's face to compare to his fur color. He grimaced, gently pushing her hands away. "Look, Poppy," he sighed, trying to put as much sincerity into his tone as he could muster, "I appreciate what you want to do. Really, I do. But Hickory and I just don't want a huge event made of this. Neither of us really like a big crowd, and we don't want some massive ragger of a party. And, before you say it, I know how that sounds coming from me. Please. If you want to plan our wedding, I won't stop you, because I really appreciate you taking all of this over for me. But can we keep it small?"

Poppy made a couple of abortive motions with the swatches in her hands, before finally deflating and nodding slightly. "Okay, fine. Family and close friends, only. But I will be making the flower arrangements as big as I want!"

"Deal," John snorted, holding out his hand, Poppy grinning widely as she shook it.

John had been ready to say his vows to Hickory withing a week of Hickory's awkward half-proposal. However, Poppy apparently needed at least three months to make the arrangements for everything she had planned. She told him, at one point, that what she had originally wanted to do would've taken six months, but after John's haggling she knocked her plans down to something she could put together in three. Plus, she had pointed out, John and Hickory's guests would need time to make appropriate travel plans and arrangements.

Needless to say, John was getting restless waiting. Two months into it, and even Sky was getting agitated.

"Why can't you do it now?" the trolling whined, flopping himself dramatically onto the ground. He kicked his little feet into the floor, his face smushed into the carpet, "Waiting feels like forever."

John snorted, elbow deep in the sink as he washed dishes, glancing over his shoulder to watch Sky briefly. "Because your aunt Poppy wants everything to be special. Plus, it hasn't been that long since your uncle Bruce visited. He's gotta make sure the restaurant is gonna be okay if he leaves again."

"UGH," Sky whined, rolling over to stare up at the ceiling. "Fine, I guess."

"Such a generous boy," Hickory laughed, taking a dish from John to dry and put away.

"Mmm. What's got your hair in a twist, anyway? It's not like anything will change around here after the wedding," John hummed, pulling the plug in the sink as he finished the last dish.

"No, I know," Sky sighed, tilting his head so he could watch his parents in the kitchen, "But, some of the kids at school were talking about aunt Poppy and uncle Branch's wedding, and some of them said only trolls in true love get married. And I know you and Papa are in true love, but a girl at school told me you couldn't be, 'cause you weren't married."

John snorted in mild offense, while Hickory simply frowned as he put the last of the dishes away.

"You tell that girl at school that anyone can be in true love, marriage or not," Hickory said as he turned to his son, hands on his hips, earning a surprised look from John, who'd had a snarky remark at the tip of his tongue. "As a matter of fact, sometimes true love just smacks ya right in the face, an' ya don't even realize it. Other times, it's real slow and creeps up on ya while yer not lookin'. True love can happen anytime, an' anywhere. You don't need no fancy ceremony an' a ring to show you've got true love."

Sky had sat up on the floor to pay better attention to his father while he spoke, little sparkles in his eyes at the impassioned speech. "Which one happened with you and Dad?"

"Well," Hickory chuckled, "The smack in the face sure happened to me." He glanced at John with a fond look on his face, "An' I'm pretty sure the slow creep happened to yer Dad."

"You big sap," John snorted, though he had to hide his face behind a hand to try and block the view of the dark flush that had spread across his cheeks.

"John?"

"Muh?!" John jerked awake, blinking muzzily into the darkness as he sat up, looking around in a daze.

"Sorry, schatz," Hickory murmured, rubbing at John's shoulder to calm him down. John let out a little sigh, settling back down into the pillows.

"What's up?" John murmured, squinting through the dark at Hickory.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"…And it couldn't wait until morning?"

Hickory let out a breathy little laugh, petting at John's jaw gently. "I don't think so."

John waited for Hickory to speak, his brain slowly trying to pull him back down into sleep, before he forced himself into wakefulness again. "Well?" he grunted, rubbing at his face.

"Sorry. It's just…hard. It's hard to say," Hickory muttered. Another moment passed before Hickory sighed, shifting against the bed to lay flat on his back, his gaze focused on the ceiling. "I would like to extend an invitation to the wedding to Dickory."

John immediately sat up again, his mind now wide awake. "You what?"

Hickory sat up as well, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, although John could barely tell he was doing so. "I know! I know how that sounds, but…He's my brother."

"Yeah! Your brother who tried to-what was it he said? Oh, right. MAIM me? Because apparently, he wasn't actively trying to kill me. Just came real close," John seethed, trying to keep his voice quiet. "He called me a whore on multiple occasions!"

Hickory seemingly floundered for words for a few minutes as they sat in the dark in silence, while Hickory audibly fiddled with the blankets in his lap. "I'm sorry. I know he was terrible. To both of us, but especially you. But…he is the only family I have left, liebling. I want him to at least know that I'm happy. That we're happy, despite everything…This is why I wanted to talk to you now. I didn't want to argue in front of Sky."

"Oh, yes. Because waking me up in the middle of the night is going to lead to a really productive conversation," John groused, flopping back down into the pillows. He could hear Hickory continue to fiddle with the blankets for a long moment, before laying down next to him again. He groaned while throwing an arm over his eyes, already feeling the guilt welling up in his chest at Hickory's silence. "Okay, fine! You can send him an invitation. But you're going to need to talk to Poppy, since y'know…he got banished and all that."

John grunted as Hickory practically rolled on top of him and pulled his arm away from his face. "Thank you, schatz! If Poppy agrees, and he shows up, I will make sure to keep him on tight reins," Hickory hummed, pressing a smile into John's cheek.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm pretty great," John grumbled, wrapping his arms around Hickory. "Now, let me go back to sleep before our kid comes banging at our door to get up."

Finally, after months of waiting, the day of the wedding arrived.

John was nervous, to say the least. He and Hickory had agreed to Poppy's weird rule that the couple needed to spend the night before the wedding apart. It had been the first night in four years that John hadn't slept next to Hickory, and that alone had been enough to set him on edge for the day. And now, only a few scant hours before the wedding, he was stood in the little tent Poppy had had set up as a makeshift dressing room, in front of a mirror, staring at himself forlornly. His outfit was impeccable; a dark purple suit that Branch had, surprisingly, picked out with black and gold accents, and a black headband to replace his goggles. Certainly not his usual color scheme or style, but definitely complimentary to his natural colors. He knew he looked good (Poppy wouldn't let him walk out in something tacky. He hoped, anyway), but that didn't stop the thrill of nerves making him sweat.

"You look like you swallowed a lemon."

Bruce's voice startled John out of his silent revere, causing the teal troll to finally turn away from the mirror.

"And what if I did?" John tried to joke, but it fell flat as Bruce walked into the tent proper, a concerned little frown on his face. He shifted under his younger brothers scrutiny, before finally letting out a puff of air, while wiping his palms on the bottom of his suit jacket. "I'm just nervous."

"Whatever for?" Bruce chuckled, moving forward to fix the lapels of John's suit jacket.

"I genuinely have no idea," John laughed, already beginning to feel ridiculous as he thought about the conversation he'd had with Bruce previously, back when Sky's egg had first appeared in his hair. "I know he loves me, no matter what."

"And he's definitely in it for the long haul," Bruce agreed, stepping back from John with an easy smile. "You've got nothing to worry about. Today is really more of a formality, then anything else."

"I bet you were still nervous when you and Brandy got married, even if you knew she was in it for the long haul," John pointed out with a cheeky grin, laughing as Bruce flushed.

"Oh, I was a wreck," Bruce admitted with a little shrug and a nod, "I'm surprised I didn't trip over my own feet while walking up the aisle." He paused for a moment, fiddling with the bright orange rose bud on his lapel. "This probably isn't the best time to say this, but I wish you'd been there."

John chewed on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from starting to cry already, and gave a little nod. "I do, too."

Bruce nodded, clearing his throat as he not so subtly wiped at his eyes. "Right, well! Break a leg out there, Johnny," the purple troll declared, spinning on his heel to walk out of the tent.

"Bruce, wait!"

Bruce paused, turning to offer his brother a questioning glance.

"I know this is probably gonna sound weird, and Poppy might lose her marbles, because we didn't rehearse it, but, uhm," John cleared his throat, tugging at the hem of his jacket to straighten it, "Will you…walk me down the aisle?"

That was enough to get Bruce to burst into tears, his hands quickly shooting up to cover his face. "Oh my god, John!" he sniffed, shaking his head, "Right before the wedding?! I'm gonna be all blotchy."

"Oh, uh, sorry!" John scooped a tissue box up from his little vanity, offering it to Bruce, "Is that a 'no', then?"

"Is that a 'no'," Bruce mocked, snatching up tissues, "Of course it's a YES, you idiot. Glitter and cupcakes, you have the worst timing known to troll kind,"

"Ha, yeah…"

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess."

The music queue began to play, notifying John that he should be walking down the aisle now. The teal troll turned to his brother, his smile crooked as they linked arms.

"It'll be great."

"I know."

"As I've been informed, the couple has written vows for each other. You may now recite them. Hickory, you may go first."

Hickory grinned brightly at John as the two stood at the alter, barely a foot apart but both feeling like they were still an ocean away, unable to reach out and touch. Sky was stood between them, just in front of the officiator, a little pillow that had previously held the rings they'd exchanged clutched in his hands as he watched his parents with stars in his eyes.

The country troll dug into the pocket of the black and gold floral pattern suit he wore, pulling a well worn, dog eared piece of paper out. He cleared his throat as he unfolded it carefully, glancing up at John with a smitten little smile, before he began to read.

"John Dory…I will never forget the day I first laid eyes on ya. Time felt like it stopped, an' my world suddenly felt like it could be so much bigger. Ya made me realize that I could be more than what other folks told me I should be, or what I should want. You gave me hope, an' I thought that was the most precious gift any troll had ever given me. But then ya gave me yer love, an' I realized that nothin' in this world or the next would ever compare. An' then you gave me a child…an' I don't think anythin' I can say or do will ever truly express just how grateful I am to receive all of the gifts you have given me, an' to have you in my life. I love you, with all a' my heart. An' I promise to keep tryin', every day of my life, to show ya just how much ya truly mean to me."

Hickory lifted his gaze from his speech, tears in his eyes, only to let out a wet laugh at the tears already streaking down John's cheeks.

"Oh, you're good," John whispered, sniffing loudly and wiping quickly at his eyes as Hickory chuckled. "I don't have proper vows written," he admitted, reaching out to take one of Hickory's hands, once the country troll had tucked his little piece of paper back into his pocket, "But, I thought I'd do something a little unconventional. Since we've always been a bit unconventional." He turned his head to nod at Branch, who quickly pulled a microphone out of his hair to hand over to John. "Hopefully my voice isn't too mucked up from crying," he added with a chuckle into the microphone, earning a smattering of laughter from the guests.

"There goes my heat beatin', cause you are the reason…" ((click here to listen to John's song))

Cheers broke out from the guests as John finished his song, a little grin on his face as Hickory openly wept in front of him. "Haha, I win," he said quickly into the microphone, before handing it back to Branch, earning a light punch in the arm from his youngest brother.

"And with that, I now pronounce you husband and husband," the officiator announced, with another round of cheering from the crowd as Hickory yanked John into a kiss.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls john dory #trolls hickory #hickdory #trolls band together #trolls world tour #trolls fanfic #things that i wrote

30 notes · View notes

doonarose · 3 months ago

Text

Fuck me that was an emotionally destructive work week. But it's 3.30 on Friday and I have little to do this weekend beyond chores and napping, and I am almost, almost, almost there. I will definitely be having wine tonight. I might also get cheap chinese on the way home and be asleep by 8pm.

Student that hasn't spoken to me for six weeks did not pass her milestone meeting. Other academics seemed to genuinely feel bad as they voiced their concerns to me about her presentation and overall understanding which I appreciated but also... I really want to explain to them that that's not because I failed to give her this guidance, it's because she's refused to talk to me for six weeks. So that was fine. She was then grilled in the closed door meeting after withe other supervisor and chair and I was properly forceful with some 'I am right, what I say goes' stuff which I've never been before, but this is stuff we have been over again and again and again, for over a year, and when it's something like how to structure a thesis, my opinion (plus her co-supervisor's and panel chair's and any other decent academic she chooses to speak to) outweighs hers. I know what I'm fucking doing. She also got proper push back about not having enough guidance. There are so many things she's been asked to do which she could have tried in a couple of hours, with no risk beyond failure and she has just stubbornly refused to do a single one. This isn't an exaggeration, of the hundred experiments I've asked her to go and try, she has not tried one. So she's going to end up put at risk of flunking out, given a performance plan, and then we will see. All because she decided a bit of criticism made me cruel and scary and mean... I mean honestly, the stuff she told our department head earlier this week made her look like an absolute child. She doesn't like that there's so much track changes and comments on her writing. Department head asked if those changes and comments improved the writing? were written in such a way that she could learn from them? were written in a professional way that was not rude or personal? All of which led to the revelation: Oh, so you just don't like constructive criticism? ME NEITHER. But it is not a valid reason to stop talking to the person giving it.

So she needs to deal with a close-watched performance review, basically, but she also needs to get over herself, apologise, and start engaging with me again. If she cannot figure that out, she's going to be dropped from the program.

I have just spent so many weeks really thinking I was this massive asshole boss and I'm not.

But then... My right hand man who officially finished up last Friday dropped in today because I gave him an extra week with the work laptop while he moved to his new job and place. We are friends, we still get on, this played out as best it could. Great. My fucking fourth year student, who has been leaching off him for eight months, refuses to listen to my repeated instruction to stop asking this ex-postdoc for help. Don't message him, email him, call him, nothing. He is not being paid to help you and he should not feel obliged to help you out of the goodness of his heart. He's here because I did him a favor and we have known each other for over six years and have a personal relationship which means we can chat. This student walks into my office to tell me they stalked him as he was leaving, chased him down, because he has a file they need.

Okay... why didn't they get the file off him back when he still worked here? Like is it university work product because obviously he needs to leave all that here, or at least copies. Maybe it's not a file... maybe it's some code... maybe it's a macro.... unclear. But basically, he made a program work for her, she has no idea how he did it, and now she's changed the program and it's stopped working. Even if she had the file she has no idea what to do with it because she has not learned enough about the code to run it by herself. That's on her. has she worked with IT? Yes, she's spent weeks trying to get them to help but they say they can't. Okay, forward me those emails... oh they were just phone calls. Okay. Wait, there's two other computers it was working on, could she use one of those? Yes... but those aren't the computers she likes (care factor) and she'd have to....

Anyway. She's a little shit is my point. My department head phoned me and now it's 5.16pm and I'm still here so fuck that I'm going home to my wine.

#doonas rambling #god i really hate my job #and people and the world sometimes #fuck it it's friday

3 notes · View notes

justmybookthots · 1 year ago

Text

The Familiar

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this book.

This is actually the only other Leigh Bardugo book I've read since the masterpiece that is Six of Crows, so I had no idea what to expect. I don't expect an author to maintain the same writing style from a series they wrote so many years ago, but I was expecting something decent at least. And make no mistake; it WAS decent.

One thing I will say for sure: Leigh can write her ass off. I LOVE her prose. It's even a little like Holly Black's. After slugging through so many subpar pieces of work, it's refreshing to read a book where the author is an excellent writer. Plot aside, the prose is lovely and lush and there are so many lines I wished I annotated or took better note of.

I think it's even Leigh's gorgeous prose that helps to embellish — or dare I say, mask — the bones of this fantasy story: the rather ubiquitous trials/tournaments trope. I happen to LOVE this trope, but I do think Leigh's writing made a premise that's so commonplace today feel rich, unique and atmospheric. I'm also a huge believer of execution over trope, so this isn't a complaint. It might even be praise.

So why the mixed feelings, right?

This is going to veer faintly into spoiler territory (though I tried to be subtle), so beware.

The problem is that I don't really love any of the characters. The main cast is… fine, mostly inoffensive, but very forgettable. I know in several months from now I'll have forgotten this story altogether. The thing is, characters are vastly important to me — in fact, I don't even mind a weaker story if the characters stood out more. Luzia seems vague to me — I know she wants more out of her life, but that's about it? I'm sure there are more facets to her personality but overall she hasn't made a salient impression on me.

Same with Santángel. I was honestly baffled that the writer who wrote distinct personalities like Kaz, Jesper, Wylan and Matthias gave me a male character as tepid as Santángel. His circumstances/curse was extremely fascinating, I don't question that (and it's one of this book's biggest highlights), but his personality was bland. I guess he is a little… grumpy? A little stoic?

That said, I love Valentina's character and I think the ending did her justice. She shone a lot through the book — it does start in her POV, after all — and I'm glad she somehow found her happiness at the end. I also liked the Holy Child, though I was expecting a bit more from her at the end. Hualit — I kept yoyo-ing between disliking her and being neutral and now I just don't care. 😂

The ending… was unexpected. I was scratching my head and trying to make sense of it at first. It wasn't anything like what I had envisioned it to be and I'm having a lot of mixed feelings towards it. The more I think about it, the more I can understand why Leigh wrote it this way, but it felt a tad anticlimactic. Perhaps with time and perspective I'll change my mind (I already have, a bit), but I'd hoped Santángel could break the Curse. Also! The good luck magic doesn't make a lot of sense because obviously it should have worked in a way to keep Santángel by Victor's side, given the calamitous outcome for Victor. But maybe I'm overthinking it.

Overall, I don't think it was a major letdown or anything like that. More of a "Well, it was an interesting read!" I can't say I loved it, but at least I finally got to read something by Bardugo that isn't Six of Crows, haha. I'm still not sure if I should read Ninth House but maybe one day?

- 6 May 2024

#book review #leigh bardugo #fantasy books #the familiar #six of crows #the grisha trilogy #shadow and bone #kaz brekker

4 notes · View notes

missingmayuri · 2 years ago

Text

Let's see

Ah a tag from @mayuris-basement-dweller for Fanfiction Writer Bingo!

Then let's get to it!

One

I actually used Wattpad up until very recently when I began writing on here. I still have my account but some recent issues with the site had me questioning what to do. Still there for now but writing more here mostly 😊

Two

I'm writing my first piece like this for a friend for her birthday so this technically counts even though its my first piece

Three and Four

I have proof read for friends back in the day and most of everything I have posted hasn't been beta read by anybody. I wing it and ✨hope for the best ✨

Five

I literally don't know anyone who doesn't write self indulgent fics. I think it's a trope all we fanfic writers share!

Six

Who doesn't love a good fluff fic c,mon. Nothing better then characters being lovey. My favourite to write too ❤️

Seven

Haven't posted but have written some M/M fics before

Eight

Facts

Nine and Ten

I have written for a few fan bases before and because of that I like to do plenty of research to make sure I get characters accurate with the correct information. Doesn't hurt to be prepared right?

Eleven

The good ol' outline stops me going on tangents during writing . This happens a lot 😂

Twelve

Damn I'm such an anxious writer. Immediately regret anything I post and just sit here hoping people like it like

Thirteen

One?! Fool! I have an entire collected of unfinished and unpublished works!

Fourteen and Fifteen

Nothing hits quite like those 3am ideas you have when you should be sleeping. Let's be honest here and stop lying to ourselves about what times we got our ideas 😂

I think the coffee might be keeping me awake. It's a vicious cycle

Sixteen

I do think one thing I wrote does deserve a little more praise. Was super long and while it's my first and it's riddled with errors it took a huge amount of research and many months.

I don't mind though. Fun to watch my writing grow from there!

I don't think I have many people to tag and feel free to ignore this but just gonna tag @criminal-sen here. Just gonna set them down gently... There we go.

Blank template is below

Thanks again for the tag! ❤️

#Writing #Writing meme

5 notes · View notes

autumn-equinox-04 · 11 months ago

Text

Charles remembers the fallout after Edwin Payne's devastating restaurant review of Paul's Palace.

Reporters everywhere, with their flashing camera lights and shouted questions that kept him and his mum inside their tiny house for weeks. Police officers, unexpectedly and miraculously kind, interviewing them on what it was like living with a monster. People from all over the world, reaching out with messages of love and support and pure compassion.

And it was someone Charles' own age who made it all happen.

Edwin Payne, 25 years old and celebrated food critic despite it, had taken one look at Paul Rowland and the plague he brought to the world, and he'd done something about it. What's more, he'd done it so well Charles' dad had ended up in prison, far away from him and his mum, and the restaurant— no longer named Paul's Palace— had become a refuge, a safe haven, a shelter, instead of the hell it once was.

At 25 years old, Charles Rowland was finally free.

After that, Deconstructed Palates with Edwin Payne was a permanently open tab on Charles' laptop.

Their new restaurant— his mum's and his, just them, as it should always have been— wasn't hard to get up and running. They already had a location, and once they cleaned it up to meet health and safety regulations, it looked better than it ever had. Their suppliers had been more than glad to remain in partnership now that Paul's controlling and confrontational behavior wasn't shadowing every transaction. And, well, Charles' mum was fantastic in the kitchen, and Charles was skilled in his own right, and there was nothing to stop them, was there?

It took two and a half years for things to take off completely. Up until then, they'd had enough business to keep the restaurant open— loyal regulars, occasional newcomers, out-of-towners. But word started to get out about their delicious food and warm hospitality, and then suddenly they needed to hire more waitstaff to handle the rush of customers, and then more cooks to keep up with the influx of orders to the kitchen.

Six months after their boom in business— which, thankfully, showed no signs of stopping— Charles Rowland finally sent the email he'd drafted and re-drafted for three long years.

It was the email inviting Edwin Payne to come critique their new restaurant.

It was also his plea, his call, his prayer to the avenging angel with intelligent green eyes, the hero with the unsheathed pen, the savior bathed in golden light with a bowtie to tie it all together.

Our menu has been carefully crafted, he said, not adding, because you made sure we were free to craft it.

We would be delighted to host you for a meal, he said, not telling him, because that is how we show our love and gratitude.

Your insights and feedback would be invaluable, he said, instead of just writing the truth. Instead of just writing, I want to see you. I want you to see me, to see us, to see how we've grown and changed from that hellhole you wrote about. I want you to approve.

And Edwin Payne had. He came and he smiled and he approved and Charles didn't know it was possible to feel for someone the way he felt for Edwin.

Now he's done it again, with that awful faux-French restaurant La Sorcière. It's his idea to ask someone named Monty to come work for them; he asks Charles' mum about it quietly, hesitatingly, nervously, as if he hasn't become just as much Aadhya's son as Charles is.

So that's how Monty Finch becomes their newest hire.

He and Edwin become good friends almost immediately, and Charles watches with a strange feeling in his stomach— a strange feeling that he would very much prefer not to name, or, for that matter, have in the first place.

Because Edwin doesn't say much about himself, about friends, about family. There's Crystal, of course, but the way the two of them act around each other is so unpredictable that Charles feels more comfortable calling what they have a friend-situationship.

So it's.... good, Edwin getting along with someone, laughing and chatting, even if it means he doesn't look Charles' way for ages.

Besides, Monty's clearly a good sort. He even comes up to Charles one day, once the rush has died down, to thank him.

"For what?" Charles asks, confused. They haven't interacted too much in the time Monty's been working at the restaurant; Charles is usually in the back, and Monty works front of house.

"Edwin told me what you did," Monty says, almost shy. "Telling him about the restaurant, I mean. Asking him to take a look." "He would have done it even if I hadn't asked," Charles declares. "Edwin's good like that. He saves people who, for whatever reason, can't save themselves."

Monty smiles softly. "I know. But he didn't know about it, and it would've gone on for much longer if you hadn't told him. So.... thank you."

Yeah, Monty's a good sort. And with the way he makes Edwin smile, he's good for Edwin, too.

Charles decides to just ask Edwin about it when he heads to his flat that night for their usual cooking session. They've been happening more and more frequently as of late, these sessions— when Edwin first asked him over, it was to discuss and try out some of the dishes to be featured on the show in an environment that wasn't also a busy restaurant that needed its kitchen to service paying customers. Somehow, along the way, it's turned into.... what is is now. An excuse to spend time together, to learn about each other, maybe.

That's what it is for Charles, anyway, though he can't say it out loud— his mother already insists on calling them 'dates,' which they are not, and it's true Edwin's been handling his new Indian mother and her teasing like a champion, but what if he gets uncomfortable?

These nights are special— Charles can't lose them. Under the warm lights of his kitchen, Edwin is.... softer, solid and real in a way that makes Charles want to hold him until they intertwine into one. There's a closeness between them, one that Charles doesn't feel when other people around. It feels like possibility, almost.

Maybe it's that Edwin unravels himself during these sessions, unwrapping himself layer by layer— both metaphorically and literally. Standing together in that kitchen is the only time Charles has ever seen Edwin without his armor— he loses the vest and bowtie, rolls up his sleeves, undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. Relaxed and comfortable like that, he's so.... well, there's no word for it other than beautiful.

The Edwin that Charles gets to see during their cooking nights mesmerizes him every time, to the point where it seems the world slows down. Maybe that's why when Charles finally checks the time, after a night spent experimenting in the kitchen and talking extensively over dinner, he nearly has a heart attack.

"Bloody hell," Charles curses. "How did I not notice it was this late?"

Edwin blinks at him, confused. "It is not that late, surely?" he asks, pulling his sleeve back to check his watch. "It is only— oh."

"Yeah," Charles says, running a hand through his hair with a sheepish laugh.

This happens every time— they lose track of time entirely, and Charles has to rip himself away with difficulty. Today, though, is the latest they've ever gone. His mum is probably worried sick by now.

Edwin glances at the clock, then back at Charles. He's rubbing his knuckles together, which— why is he nervous? "Charles," he begins, then hesitates.

"Yeah, mate?" Charles encourages, smiling as gently and encouragingly as possible.

"Would you— perhaps, if you would like, you could— well." Edwin stops and takes a deep breath. "It is quite late. Would you like to stay the night?"

Charles' stomach does a funny little flip and— god, why's his heart beating so fast? "I— I'd love to, um. That would— that would be really great, actually."

Edwin exhales as some of the tension bleeds out of his body. "Wonderful. You, uh, you will take the bedroom, of course. I can.... lend you some clothes for the night."

"No, no, you should take the bed, it's your house," Charles protests, feeling weak in the knees at the thought of wearing Edwin's clothes. "I'll, uh, I'll take the couch."

"No, absolutely not. I will," Edwin insists in a tone that brooks no argument. "The room is just through here, follow me."

Edwin's room looks just like what Charles has imagined— not that he's spent time actively imagining what Edwin's room looks like. It's just— the room is so quintessentially Edwin. Both the nightstand and the dresser have several books on them, stacked neatly alongside pens and paper. There's a small fluffy rug in the shape of a dog by the foot of the bed, which makes Charles smile, and three picture frames on the dresser: Edwin and an older lady with brown hair and a kind smile, Edwin and Crystal, with him in his classic triangle-hands pose and her doing bunny ears behind his head with a wicked grin, and Edwin and Niko— the producer of the show? Charles didn't know they were that close— smiling at each other, hands clasped between them.

Edwin sees where he's looking and hurries to explain. "Niko just so happens to live next door to Crystal," he says. "I see her whenever I visit. She is very charming, as it were. I find we've gotten close."

Charles grins. "That's brills, mate. She sounds great."

No picture of Monty anywhere, his traitorous brain whispers.

Edwin smiles back and crosses to the dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of pajamas. He lays them on the bed, folded neatly, then turns down the incredibly soft-looking olive green sheets.

"Well," he says when he's done, straightening up and clapping his hands together awkwardly, "I will leave you to it. I had also better call Aadhya and let her know of your plans."

Charles' mind races. Should he ask Edwin to stay? Could he even ask such a thing, ask the person who's quickly become the best friend he's ever had, to share a bed? The idea feels impossibly, excitingly dangerous. But, well, it couldn't hurt to try, could it? He could play it off later if he needed to, say he felt bad about Edwin sleeping on the couch. He opens his mouth—

"If you need anything at all," Edwin says, somehow already at the doorway, "I'm just through here. Good night, Charles."

He lingers for a second, eyes on Charles' face, then disappears into the living room.

"....Good night, Edwin," Charles says to the empty room.

----

Charles can't sleep. He's been staring at the ceiling— in Edwin's room, his mind helpfully supplies— for what feels like hours, unable to think about anything but the man in the next room. They're separated by one wall and that's it, how is Charles meant to sleep?

So he sneaks into the kitchen for some water, skirting the living room so as not to wake Edwin up. He's been here enough times that he knows exactly where everything is in the kitchen, and he carefully eases open the door to the cupboard where the glasses are kept—

"Are you alright, Charles?"

Charles jumps about a foot in the air, cursing loudly. "God! You scared me, mate. Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Edwin assures him, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. "I…. could not sleep."

"Any particular reason why?" Charles asks, voice carefully neutral. Is it for the same reason as me? Is it because you'd prefer to be in the same room, the same bed, rather than just the same house?

God. That's madness. Thank god he keeps the filter between his brain and mouth in top working condition.

Edwin hesitates for a split second, not long enough to mean anything. "Just…. thinking about the show," he says quietly. "They'll be sending over a schedule for filming in the next few days, and…. it has only now finished processing for me that this is really happening."

Charles grabs his glass of water and leans back against the sink, facing Edwin. "I know what you mean," he admits. "This is…. I mean, I never imagined I'd be on TV. But I will be, and people will get to see Mum, too, and how hard she works. It's incredible."

"I am glad you are both getting the recognition you deserve," Edwin tells him, smiling softly. "It could not have been easy, rebuilding from the ground up like you did. But you got through it, because you can get through anything, Charles Rowland."

Charles doesn't know what he's done to deserve having this wonderful, wonderful man in his life, smiling at him and bringing him flowers and somehow always knowing when he's about to fall and being ready to catch him. He's no writer like Edwin, he doesn't have a gift with words. So all he can say as his throat constricts and his heart swells with an emotion he thought impossible for someone like him, is "Thank you."

He says Thank you. He means I love you.

Restaurant owner / chef Charles / Food critic Edwin AU - continued!!!

Hi everyone! I just wanted to say what an incredible experience it has been seeing the chef Charles/food critic Edwin AU be so amazingly received and to have so many incredible writers collaborating with me on this! I expected the idea to get a few notes and peter out but it has taken on a life of its own and I couldn't be happier. I may or may not have gotten quite emotional about it, actually. It is truly such a joy to see everyone's different styles, writerly voices, and insights into all the different aspects of this story come together in such a beautiful synthesis to celebrate culture, food, found family, healing, and of course, the characters. <3 I'm so so so so beyond floored and honored to be working with y'all, and seeing where it continues to go! Thank you for "yes and"-ing - you are all brills!!!

Anyway, the previous reblog chain was getting SUPER long thanks to everyone's contributions (<3) so I'm gonna start a second reblog chain for everyone to reblog from!

You can read the AU from the beginning here!

The masterpost for the AU is here!

#finally done!#the chat was having severe payneland brainrot and well. it bled into whatever this is

247 notes · View notes

btsqualityy · 3 years ago

Note

Could you write about “Kinsley being angry and then crying for Brooklyn going to Hawaii & not telling them in front of Mins & Kims or whoever present” ? The whole mama bear thing

Drabble day! Drabble day! So for me, Brooklyn's Hawaii getaway and all the shenanigans she got in. Also, with Kinsley punishing her for leaving the country unexpectedly.

"Kim Jina, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Kinsley screamed through the facetime call and Brooklyn cringed from the sheer volume of her voice. After Brooklyn had surprised Namjoon and her grandmother on their vacation to Hawaii, the two of them figured out that Mason and Kinsley had no idea where their youngest daughter was. Of course, they had to let them know and all hell broke loose.

"I didn't think it'd be that big of a deal," Brooklyn shrugged. "I am 18."

"You don't think getting on an airplane and flying 15 hours away without telling anyone wasn't a big deal?!"

"Brook, you're pregnant," Mason added. "You can't do long flights like that."

"I'm barely six months!" Brooklyn shot back. "I'm fine to fly until I'm in my thrid trimester!"

"Who the fuck told you that?! Google?!" Kinsley hollered.

"Kinsley, take a walk," Mason stated firmly and Brooklyn could tell that her mother had thrown the phone down before she heard footsteps retreating. Mason then picked up the phone, sighing heavily.

"Brooklyn Alea Kim, I am disappointed in you," he said. "Not only did you put yourself and your child at risk, you interrupted your grandparent's vacation which they don't get many of."

"She's fine Mase," Namjoon spoke up and Brooklyn could see her grandmother smacking Namjoon's arm.

"I'm sorry," Brooklyn offered.

"I know you don't really mean that but I forgive you," Mason chuckled. "Give the phone to your grandfather." Brooklyn did as instructed, handing the phone off to Namjoon. "I'm sorry Dad."

"No need to apologize, she's fine," Namjoon assured him. "And she can stay here with us because I don't feel comfortable putting her on the 15 hour flight back hom ewhen she literally just got off of one."

"Me either," Mason admitted. "If you and mom are sure, she can stay."

"I'm sure!" You nodded and Mason nodded.

"Alright, talk to you guys later," he said. "I have to go deal with my wife."

"Oof, good luck," Namjoon whistled before hanging up the phone.

................................................

"Kins," Mason called out as he walked into their bedroom, where he found her pacing the floor. "Princess."

"Don't 'Princess' me," She snapped. "These damn kids are going to give me a heart attack."

"You know how Brooklyn is," he said as he stepped in front of her, stopping her pacing. "She's a free spirit."

"She's pregnant," Kinsley deadpanned.

"She's 18."

"She's pregnant," Kinsley repeated. "Am I the only one who's remembering that fact?"

"No but I do think you should calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down?" she echoed. "My baby, who's carrying a baby, got on a 15 hour flight and no one knew! What if something had happened?"

"Kins," Mason called, noticing that her eyes were becoming wet. "Baby."

"What if something happened to my baby?" She whispered before bursting out into tears. Mason immediately pulled her into him, allowing her to soak his shirt as she cried.

"Baby, I know you were worried but she's ok," he told her. "She's with my parents and she's ok."

"I know but the fear hasn't left my body yet," she mumbled into his chest. "I can deal with a lot of things Mase, but I'd die if anything ever happened to my babies."

"I know and that's why you're such an amazing mother," he said. "Brooklyn might not understand it yet but she will, because she's so loving just like you are."

"I hope baby boy does this shit to her," she muttered petulantly, making Mason laugh loudly.

"Take a few days and then make sure that you talk it out with her, alright?" He said and Kinsley nodded her head.

................................................

"Brook, honey, we have a surprise for you," you said a few days later and Brooklyn looked away from the television up at you.

"What is it, grandma?" She wondered and just as you went to open your mouth, the doorbell on the hotel room rang.

"I'll get it," Namjoon called out, rushing to the door and opening it.

"Hi," Daesung smiled and Brooklyn whipped her head around, knowing that voice anywhere.

"Dae!" She squealed, getting up from the couch and rushing over to the door where Daesung had just walked inside. She threw herself into his arms, making him chuckle as he hugged her back. "What are you doing here?"

"Your dad cleared my schedule so that I could come out here to spend time with you," he explained.

"Really?"

"We thought it'd be good for you two to spend some time together before the baby comes," Namjoon added.

"Plus, you're kind of cramping our style here Brook," you joked, making everyone laugh.

"You know you're on your mom's shitlist, right?" Daesung murmured to his girlfriend.

"It's worth it, to be able to be here with you," Brooklyn smiled before leaning up and kissing her boyfriend.

"Who do they remind you of?" Namjoon whispered to you.

"Kins and Mase," you replied, smiling as you watched Daesung give Brooklyn a little eskimo kiss. "They're too cute though."

"As much as I hate to admit, they are," Namjoon sighed.

"Come on, grandpa," you chuckled, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the bedroom.

................................................

"You scared the shit out of me, you know that?" Daesung muttered later that night. After arrangements had been made for him to fly to Hawaii, Namjoon had set them up in a hotel room of their own.

"I'm sorry," Brooklyn murmured, pressing light kisses to Daesung's bare chest.

"We have a son coming Ji, you can't be reckless like that."

"I hear you."

"But are you listening?"

"With how you just fucked me, it's a little hazy, not gonna lie," she laughed, making Daesung laugh as well in spite of himself. She suddenly gasped then, grabbing Daesung's hand. "Look, he's kicking."

"Wow, he's a strong little thing," Dae chuckled in surprise. "I can't wait to meet him."

"Me either," Brooklyn replied, smiling when Daesung leaned down and kissed her baby bump.

#btsqualityy drabbles #adult brooklyn #drabble day 2

24 notes · View notes

purupurple · 3 years ago

Text

i believe that will be it for me this year digital art-wise considering my tablet cord has had enough of my nonsense and now it's basically dead (tablet itself seems okay though so that's good... but its pretty old...) and also i'm going out of town soon so there won't be much time to do any drawing for a good while i think. maybe i should take my sketchbook though... guess i'll put some thoughts under a readmore

well... what a year. i should write about it on my neocities before i have to fly out. remember neocities? i sure didn't for a solid six months. hey, html is hard, what can i say? that aside, i'd like to thank everyone for the support this year. my blog grew quite a lot because i was drawing quite a bit of subway boss stuff and apparently that was a good idea. like, dude... i've just been having a prolonged brainrot episode and it's still probably going to keep going for a good long while. even larry hasn't distracted me long enough to not draw ingo and emmet for one day. even without submas art i would probably still be drawing pokemon stuff, unless i decide to be real bold and re-experience my great ace attorney phase (yes i had one (no i didn't post about it. thank god)) or something like that. regardless of whether my interests shift of my activity rises or falls, and whether those who follow me now stick around or move on, i'd still like to express my gratitude for your support. and not just to people following me, but to the people liking and/or reblogging my content and to those who will follow me in the future. without the feedback, i figure i would not be posting so much. funny little notification on funny little computer make the smooth little brain become happier brain, which is a "i want to draw" brain. the amount of notes doesn't matter overall, but it's nice to be acknowledged. i still do a lot of drawing that isn't shared here because it's just stuff i do for me, but its still pretty nice to be able to make stuff that is suitable to post and to see it actually get attention.

as for the plan next year, there might be some big changes in store for me yet. and i would still like to continue to draw subway bosses. but maybe i'll start posting some original content too (like i mean i have a tag for it and i kinda haven't been using it sooooooooooooo) and more frequent posts would be nice. maybe not once a week but just here and there. perhaps i'll share more sketches. i would like to acquaint everyone with my ocs, and maybe get around to rewriting their toyhouse pages which i took down to work on and never did WHOOPSIE DOODLES

okay i think that's enough, i have to save some of this for my diary on neocities like i said... see y'all next year AYYYYYY (im so tired)

#this isnt art

6 notes · View notes

livingdxadwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Coach (1)

Fandom: Dylan O'Brien

Pairing: AU Dylan x Fem!Reader

Mini series summary: Being a newly single mom of two kids wasn't exactly easy. And love wasn't exactly part of your agenda. So, should you avoid lusting over your son's baseball coach? Absolutely. But with a man like Dylan, could you really resist? Probably not.

Warnings: nothing major yet, small sexual innuendo, mentions of cheating and divorce

WC: 1.9k

A/N: a yes, to those who have been following me for a while may recognize this title, it's my old Dylan AU fic. Yes I decided to continue it. Updates will come periodically, because I write spontaneously and I cant guarantee quick updates. But I do promise I wont wait a whole year to update. And since I did some slight updates in the first 2 parts I decided to archive the old ones and repost them again. So yeah, if you've read them before great, give it another read, my writing is much better now I promise and if you're new welcome, I hope you like this mini series.

(You are here, part 2, part 3)

Dylan stood by the side of the large field, near the home plate, occasionally yelling out suggestions and pointing out mistakes to the young boys.

"Ezra! You have to watch the ball! C'mon! I know you can do better!" He called out to the blonde boy standing on the home plate with a bat in hand. Dylan then turned his attention to the dark haired boy with the baseball mitt and ball in hand.

"Roman! What's going on, buddy? You gotta focus, alright? You gotta work on that throw!" Dylan called out to the young boy, who half nodded and sighed heavily in response.

Not long after, Dylan signaled the young boys scattered throughout the large field to gather around. He spoke some encouraging words to the boys before allowing them to disperse and gather their equipment which meant practice was over.

Your son, however, stayed behind for a minute. There was an inaudible conversation happening between Dylan and your ten year-old, Roman. You watched from the bleachers as your son made some tired gestures at his coach followed by a small pat on the back from Dylan. You couldn't help but follow them with your eyes as they made their way to the bleachers, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the brown haired coach. An action that wasn't taken lightly by the female sitting beside you.

"You're staring at him again." Your best friend, Ezra's mother, Eliza -or just Liz, commented.

"I'm not." You muttered out quickly, tearing your eyes away from the handsome coach, your mouth hanging open for a couple of seconds. "I wasn't staring." You stated matter of factly and shrugged as you looked down at the small six year-old sitting on your lap, making sure she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

"Really? The drool coming from your mouth says otherwise." Liz playfully ran her finger across your chin, pretending to wipe away at it. You slightly glared at her, an eye roll going her way.

"I'm not drooling. I wasn't even staring." You tried to defend yourself, making a small sassy gesture to her.

"Hey, I don't blame you. If I wasn't married," she took a pause as she eyed Dylan as he removed his baseball hat to run a hand through his messy chocolate locks, you couldn't help but stare as well. "I'd jump on his bones any day."

"Hey, there's young ears present." You said quietly to Liz as not to disturb the young girl in your arms.

Despite your attempt not to, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to fall once again on the field, following the handsome male that was the topic of your conversation. You had to hide the infatuated sigh that left your lips at the sight of your son's coach running around the field, talking to the kids and picking up equipment.

"Well he is handsome, I'll give him that.." You admitted quietly, "and he's really good with the kids."

Your friend smirked slightly at your words and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"I bet that's not the only thing he's really good at." She eyed you suggestively and slightly nudged at you with her shoulder, "You should find out what other things he's good at."

Your mouth instantly fell open and your eyes widened at the insinuation.

"Eliza! Oh, my god. Don't say that." You slightly shook your head to brush off the embarrassment and hid your face on your hands to cover the crimson on your skin.

"Mommy you're warm!" Athena, your six year-old giggled as she grabbed your warm, sweaty hands. Even your daughter noticed the nervousness that crept up on you when it came to Dylan, even if it was just the topic of him. Truth was, you had been shamelessly crushing on your son's baseball coach ever since he joined the team a couple of months ago.

Get it together, you should not be crushing on your son's baseball coach.

"I know baby, it's just hot out here." You tried to brush it off, but the knowing smirk on Liz's face wasn't exactly helping. "Thena, why don't you go get Roman and Ezra? They're over there." You pointed to the field where Roman and Ezra were talking —or more like just Ezra was, to the other kids on the team. She quickly nodded and bolted off the bleachers, somehow not tripping over the steps as she went down. You sighed heavily the moment the young girl was far enough and slightly turned your head in Liz's direction.

"You should totally ask him out." She said out of nowhere with a shrug and a smirk on her face. Your eyes widened for the hundredth time, and you instantly shook your head frantically, the idea alone giving you a headache.

"Ask Dylan out? No way. I.. No.. That's just.. No." Your cheeks slightly heat up at the preposition. But you quickly turned it down with a vigorous shake of your head, not even giving the idea a minute to sink into your brain. "No, he's Roman's coach. It's just wrong."

"Why? I mean, you're single, and as far as I know, he's very single. Soo," she dragged the 'o' as she wiggled her eyebrows and she nudged your shoulder, pushing you over a little in a high school girl manner, "Why not get ready to mingle with the hot coach?"

"First of all, I'm technically not single, not yet." You groaned with an eyeroll. As much as you and your husband —or ex-husband or whatever were no longer living together, the divorce process had been unnecessarily long and dreadful. So as much as you wanted to be legally single, you were still married to that piece of shit.

"And second of all, if I were to date someone, which is a big if, I can't date Roman's coach out of all people. He already has enough as it is. It'll just confuse him and probably upset him more." You sighed heavily as you looked over to the side of the field, where all the boys were having a conversation about elementary boys' things. And there you saw your son, trying, and ultimately failing at joining said conversations. And with little Athena tugging at his side, all he got from the other kids was laughing and rejection.

Seeing your son's sad and hurt expression when the other boys laughed at him or even told him to go away broke your heart. You wanted him to be happy again. You wanted him to be the energetic and loving kid he was before your waste of a husband left. Ever since Ryan —your waste of a husband left, Roman hasn't been the same.

For the past six or so months, he has been distant and seemingly unhappy. All he ever did was lock himself up in his room and play video games. He barely ever interacted with you and Athena anymore. He barely interacted with anyone, period. Once Ryan left, it was up to you to support your kids financially. Of course, their father still paid child support, but he sure as hell didn't pay your bills or everything you needed to spend on your children. Which meant you had to take him out of the fancy school he went to in order to still pay the monthly expenses of your home. And he just didn't quite fit in at school, especially now.

So, you hoped that him joining the baseball team would change that, that it would help him open up again and that it would help him make new friends. But so far, it's worked just the opposite.

"So, I'm making dinner tonight. Do you want to come over with the kids and get drunk? Luke will watch over the kids." Liz spoke, interrupting your train of thought.

"That sounds a-mazing," you spoke in a song-like tune, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips. "But I can't. I told Roman I'd take him to that Italian place he likes."

"Tomorrow then. I'll have that Chardonnay you love so much waiting for you." She winked at you as you both stood up, ready to greet your children.

"Thank God for your alcohol stash." You joked, flinging your arms up in praise.

You both laughed and smiled in your children's direction, but your smile dropped as your kids and Ezra approached you. Ezra was holding Athena's hand, while Roman walked behind them, with a certain heaviness on his step and an annoyed look on his face. And Athena had a small pout on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Rome doesn't want to hold my hand!" Athena whined with a pout of her lower lip. She released Ezra's hand and exchanged it for your own. Ezra going to his own mom. While Roman simply stood there, with a hand stuffed into his pockets and the other messing with the strap of his bag, his gaze stuck on the ground.

"Roman, baby," you sighed softly, not wanting to give the poor kid a hard time. You understood he didn't exactly fit in, no matter how much he wanted to, and that upset him. You didn't want to add up to that. "Your sister just wanted you to hold her hand."

"She was embarrassing me.. I'm already the kid without a dad, I don't need to be the kid with an annoying baby sister." He muttered, his gaze not once leaving the ground.

His words were harsh, but lacked emotion. And it broke your heart. But as much as you wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that he did have a dad, you'd be lying if you did. Ryan was already absent in your children's lives before the split, but at the same time he was there, and Roman felt as if he was. But now, his father really wasn't there, at all. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You sighed softly, gesturing your free hand out for him, "Roman, come here," a heavy sigh left the young boy's lips as he took a few steps closer, standing in front of you with his head hanging low and his eyes stuck to the ground. You used your hand to hold the side of his face, his eyes meeting with your own. "Baby, Thena just wanted to show you that she loves you. She didn't mean to embarrass you, right Thena?" You turned your attention to the small girl that hid behind your arm, her eyes glistening with tears.

The small girl sniffled and shook her head, "No.. I'm sorry Rome.. I won't do it ever again, I-I promise."

You exchanged looks between your children, your eyes finally landing on Roman as you waited for a response. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes speaking a silent 'and' to the boy. He eventually signed, almost too heavily, and nodded.

"It's okay, I guess.. I don't really mind all that much." He half smiled, shrugging slightly.

Athena's expression quickly lightened, the small girl detached herself from your hand and hugged her older brother. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't mind the affection. He returned the hug and smiled, for a moment at least.

After a second or two, Roman slightly pushed Athena off him, signaling that that had been enough affection for a day. You breathed out softly, turning to look at Liz, who gave you a sympathetic smile in response.

"Well my loves, off we go. Say goodbye to Auntie Liz and Ezra." Both your children did as you said. Athena hugging both of them, and Roman simply waving at them. Good enough.

And at last, you gave Liz a quick but tight hug, "I'll call you tomorrow." You said shortly before you grabbed a hold of your daughter's hand and your son's bag, and eventually parted ways.

Today was gonna be a long day.

《Here's an edited version of part 1. As always I hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm trying to get back into writing after a long year, hopefully this will help me get back on track. Let me know your thoughts. And let me know if you'd like to be added to my dylan/coach taglist which I do have》

#dylanobrien #dylan o brien #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien smut #dylan obrien fanfic #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien series #coach #coach series

301 notes · View notes

princeescaluswords · 2 years ago

Note

For the fanfic ask if you’re still doing it: 5 Do you listen to constructive criticism? 6 Do you have your work beta’ed? How important is this to your process?12 How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

I am still answering!

5. Do you listen to constructive criticism?

As often as I can, but we've become a subculture where any criticism is somehow seen as rude, most of the criticism I get are from people who don't see anything wrong with my writing, and while that's lovely, it's not particularly helpful in refining my writing style.

Fandom talks about "constructive criticism" but what they most often mean is "positive criticism." Negative criticism can be constructive, no matter how harsh it can be, if the critic moves beyond taste to the mechanism that provoked the negative emotional reaction.

For example "This is racist!" is not very constructive, even though it might be true, but "This is racist because you flatten every single character of color to a one-dimensional antagonist." "This is misogynist!" is not very constructive, but "This is misogynist because you treat heterosexual relationships as shallow and damaging while celebrating homosexual relationships (between men and only between men) as wonderful even as they employ the same narrative beats." "This is immoral" is not very constructive, but "Your story has a moral framework which is self-contradictory. The serial killer deserves love and validation because he had a reason to murder a dozen people, but the best friend deserves to be mutilated and murdered because he doesn't kill people, even though he has compelling reasons not to."

One of the least effective pieces of criticisms I ever received was "You really hate Stiles, don't you?" What can a writer do with that? I didn't hate Stiles in the story, (see Lies of Remission). The conceit of the story was what would happen if Scott was a little less moral, as a contravention to the prevailing fandom idea that Scott should have lived in "shades of gray." There's no explanation in that criticism of how I was being unfair to the character of Stiles. There's nothing, positive or negative, to grapple with, though I tried.

As an aside, I love people pointing out typos. For some reason, it's more comforting to me than going back over the work six months later and seeing I pulled a "their, they're, there" screw up on my own.

6. Do you have your work beta’ed? How important is this to your process?

I have had it done once or twice, but not often enough for it to become important to my process. I do use Discord when I have a question about sensitivity or characterization, and I love having that resource.

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

Well, I write fanfiction for Scott McCall and other characters of color from Teen Wolf, so I have to say that not receiving feedback/support affects me very little! (/sarcasm) It is true that I wish more people would read the stories I write which are outside the mainstream of fandom, because I really think that there is a lot of good room to explore with these characters that hasn't been addressed. Firebomb, for example, is a story about Noshiko and Satomi, and it hasn't got a lot of attention. This discouraged me from continuing a number of stories about Noshiko's nine-hundred year past, because it would take a lot of research to do it right, and the pay off just doesn't seem to be there.

And it's one of the reasons that I started Iphigenia in Tauris, the third entry in my Teen Wolf/MCU crossover series Titanomachy, because the first two entries are among my most successful. I guess everyone likes to be paid attention.

Thanks for asking!

#my writing #ask game #teen wolf fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

innuendostudios · 4 years ago

Text

Thoughts on... some funny games

[no spoilers to speak of]

Thoughts on Lair of the Clockwork God

The wisdom of the gaming cognoscenti insists that comedy is hard to do in video games. Having grown up with Monkey Island and Zork, I've never found this convincing. But one true thing is this: it's hard to write about comedic games. The ineffability of humor is hard enough to describe in less-interactive media; I can't even explain to my partner why Gretchen saying "I met January Jones once!" on You're the Worst busted me up, and they were sitting right next to me when she said it. Throw in the "you had to be there" nature of the player's active participation and I lose myself in a cornfield. The thing I found hilarious might come a beat to early for you, or not at all, or not be funny in text like it is in gameplay.

Why did I like Lair of the Clockwork God? It made me laugh.

The premise and particulars are a lot of "that could go either way." Ben and Dan - stars of Ben There, Dan That and Time Gentleman, Please! - have returned. Ben is still an adventure game star, but Dan has adopted platforming mechanics in an attempt to get with the times. So playing the game involves switching back and forth between a character who can leap across canyons but can't pick up items or talk to people, and one who can combine inventory but can't climb over a 3-pixel rock.

Does that sound potentially funny? Potentially grating? Yes to both!

The plot centers around our heroes trying to save the world from several simultaneous apocalypses and having to teach human emotions to a supercomputer in order to do so. (Don't ask.) These means, rather like Ben There, Dan That, traipsing through a number of fantasy worlds (read: computer simulations) until the correct emotion is provoked. This requires cross-genre cooperation: finding ways to get Ben to areas only Dan can access, getting Dan new power ups by combining objects in Ben's inventory (an act Dan insists on calling "crafting").

The best bits are at these intersections, when Dan's platforming is the puzzliest and Ben's puzzles take advantage of Dan's skills. Periodically the game gives you a Dan-centric platforming gauntlet the controls are NOT precise nor pleasant enough for, or a Ben-only moon logic puzzle that leaves you googling the walkthrough.

But I liked it! A lot. The genre-hopping seems to have invigorated the developers, Ben Ward and Dan Marshall. I discussed my favorite joke in Ben There, Dan That (in what is probably the least popular video I've ever made that wasn't asking for money), but was also dismayed that the game was never that clever again. But this one is, several times over! Progression here involves cheating your way to a better respawn zone, goofing around in game menus, exploiting "glitches," exiting out and loading up entirely other games. There is a lot of poking and prodding at what a game of this nature can or should be.

But, honestly? The only real selling point is... it was funny. The humor is as anarchic and metatextual as in previous titles, but it feels good-natured in a way BT,DT didn't. And there are, here and there, little bits of meat on its bones - the characters wondering if, as a couple thirtysomething white guys, the world hasn't left them behind, no longer comfortable with the juvenile humor of their youth but not really understanding the youth of today, but having not yet fully escaped the mentalities they used to hold. (There's an unspoken humor to Dan's idea of "modern" gameplay being 2D platforming mechanics, especially at a time when adventure games are significantly more popular than on his last outing; this is a good joke whether or not it's intentional.)

Also: this game contains the most poignant urinating-on-a-grave puzzle in gaming history, and you may quote me on that.

Having finished it months ago, I can't even remember what all the gags were that tickled me at the time. Comedy fades from memory faster than drama or frustration. Mostly I just remember having a good time.

Thoughts on The Darkside Detective

Here's a hook: sometime after the mayhem ends in Ghostbusters, The Exorcist, Evil Dead 2, or some other paranormal blockbuster that you watched over and over in the 90's until the VHS wore out, some overworked detective has to come into your town and piece together what the hell happened.

This is his story.

It's a good gag, and the devs wring every drop from it. Existing in a world where these things are commonplace and you have to fit them into some notion of "police procedure" is just funny. Like, it's one thing to have a running gag where you keep observing the moon in outdoor scenes, commenting, with increasing hostility, that its behavior is suspicious (it has been present at multiple crime scenes); it's a slightly different thing when, given the things you've encountered, the moon being the Big Bad is actually somewhat possible.

The game is divided into six main cases and three bonus DLC missions (which come included in the base game now, and the third of which is the proper ending/setup for the sequel). You are the cop tasked to deal with The Other Side - and, when The Other Side bleeds into our own world, its cops have to deal with you. You have a sidekick with a mental maturity of about 6, which I guess makes you the straight man. (You have to grade on a curve to find a straight man in this game.) And you solve tasks like rounding up escaped gremlins or finding an AWOL lake monster all juxtaposed with mundane problems like inter-office squabbles and having not bought your Christmas presents early enough. It's (pleasantly) lo-res and sparsely isolated, so the dialogue and premise do most of the work, but they are ably up to the task.

The gameplay... not so much. I'm an adventure game lifer, so I can put up with a lot of nonsense. It's mostly straightforward inventory puzzles and occasional minigames. Most of the puzzles are fine enough. As the cases progress, things get more involved, and the DLCs especially involve some awful moon logic. And the minigames are not above using that same jumping peg puzzle you've solved in a dozen other games already. So gameplay ranges from serviceable to irritating, but it mostly exists to string together funny lines and silly images. (Christmas mall elves being secretly in service to Krampus - that's the kind of thing we're talking about here.) You won't feel much guilt for opening up a walkthrough; the puzzles aren't why you're here.

The sequel has just been released, and both games are cheap, so check them out if you feel like smiling.

Thoughts on The Procession to Calvary

It's rare for a game to be hilarious to look at.

The Procession to Calvary takes its name from the Bruegel painting. It also takes all it's graphics from Renaissance oil paintings, and the designer delights in making famously rendered heroes and religious icons steal, stab, fart, and swear.

A strong Terry-Gilliam-with-After-Effects vibe is what we're describing.

You play as a lady knight from a war that's just ended, which sucks for you because, in this age of peace, you're no longer authorized to kill. And killing's, like, you're whole thing. But the one person your new, pacifist king wouldn't stop you from killing is the warlord you just deposed, who fled to the South. So you embark on a nonsensical journey to seek out the one human on Earth you are authorized to kill, because killing is just The. Best. Ever.

Of the three games we're discussing, this is the most overtly cheeky, and, at times, the most scatological. I could've done with a bit less scatology, if I'm being honest, but the cheekiness is very winning. As with Lair of the Clockwork God, a lot of jokes could go either way - a field of people being tortured and a woman on a blanket selling commemorative torture merch could be painfully try-hard. But something about the victims being seemingly everyone ever crucified or broken on the wheel in a famous painting, and having them writhe on their crosses in a way that is both gruesome and goofy, and having a cacophonous soundtrack of their screams and moans that you will now imagine every time you look at one of those elegantly elegiac paintings from now on... it works. That the music score is being played by an extremely jaunty piper who dances behind you just out of sword's reach as you traverse the field pushes it over the top.

Oh, and the puzzles, while never hair-pullingly obtuse, will leave you stumped at times. Push past that to get the proper ending, but, if you're sick of trying, you can, at any point, just start stabbing your way through problems. Which, again: it takes a very deft touch to make "protagonist resorts to violence" actually funny rather than lazy and obvious. And maybe, in another game, the perfect timing of every animation, the clever quips, the careful contrast of cathedrals and high-society music halls with gleeful sword-swinging wouldn't be enough. But something about it being frickin' Renaissance paintings carries it the last mile.

This is probably the basest game of the three, but it's also the one that made me giggle the most. Having a BFA that required several art history classes may have something to do with it. But check this thing out.

#capsule review #darkside detective #lair of the clockwork god #procession to calvary

99 notes · View notes

myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

Text

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 5

Word Count: 5,690

POV: Reader and then switches to Jamie

Warnings: Language, but that’s about it, at least from what I can remember

Notes: So I just want to thank everyone for their patience with me as I took some time off. I’ve still been writing, so hopefully you’ll see your favorite stories pop up here and there. Happy reading!

Sidenote: Also (Y/NN) = Your Nickname (Y/LN) = Your Last Name

READER'S POV

"I'm sorry what did you just say?" you asked Emma, as you had to have heard her incorrectly when she said that you should get under someone in order to get over Jamie. "Because, you were there in high school, that didn't work out the best for me."

"That's not what I meant."

"But it is what you said, that I should just go hook up with some random guy. Em, I love you, babe, but I am not going down that path again. I do not need to be known as the doctor that sleeps around."

"Oh my god, would you shut up for one minute?" You went radio silent, after she practically yelled at you through the phone, though you suppose that your voice had gone up maybe a decibel or two. "I didn't mean for you to go fuck some rando at the bar. Actually, I meant…and hear me out before you say anything," she paused and you had a feeling that you weren't going to like what she said next no matter what it was. "I think you should sleep with Jamie."

"WHAT!?!"

"Yeah, that was a little loud. I think you might have woken up Caleb. Shh, go back to sleep babe," you heard her mumble to her husband.

"I'm sorry but are you crazy? Maybe I called you too early and you're not fully functioning without coffee. Or should I call Dr. Kaplan and have him examine you."

"Your neurologist, friend? No." She sounded a bit indignant at the mention that she needed her brain examined for suggesting a thing, but really what were you supposed to think when she made stupid remarks like you should go sleep with Jamie. "I asked you to listen before you passed judgment on me. God, you think you were a judge instead of a doctor so something."

"Well, you have my full attention. So please explain, before I have you committed to the psych ward." She scoffed at you, which only made you say, "You know I can medically do that."

You could almost hear her eyes rolling through the phone. "Yes, but who would you call this early in the morning when you have a problem." She had a point. "Exactly. Now, let me explain. You and Jamie never really resolved anything. He said things, you got upset, he never answered the phone, so you broke it off with him, yadda, yadda, yadda. You get my point." It seemed a whole lot more complicated than a few yaddas. "But there was never any closure for either of you there. It just sort of ended." Emma was right about that, after hearing that he only was seeing you for sex, you didn't want to speak to him at all. "It was obvious then, that he still had feelings for you, even if you didn't want to see it. And don't kill me here, but I think it was obvious that you still had feelings for him as well, and that maybe you still do." You didn't exactly know how you felt about Jamie at the moment, but waking up in his arms did feel right. "Let's face it (Y/N), you've compared every guy you've ever been with to Jamie."

"I have not." Had you?

"Ok, we're skipping all the douches in high school, because you and I both know you never slept with any of them. Yes, I know what everyone said, but I was also your best friend and I know you. The worst you ever did was give Carter Williams a blow job behind the bleachers after a football game." Oh, Jesus, she did not need to go down this road listing all your sexcapades from high school or after that. "I'm talking about Bryan, the perfectly good looking, studying to be a heart surgeon, boyfriend that you gave up for no other reason then you said he wasn't tall enough."

"I did not break up with Bryan because he wasn't tall enough and you know it."

"It was a factor, along with his hair not being dark enough and you hating his sense of humor."

"The man made stupid heart surgeon jokes that not even anyone in the cardiothoracic department got."

"True, but you also told me he was lousy in bed, and I believe that was another complaint you had about Tomas, Dylan…oh and what was his name…you know the one you said that you had to use your vibrator the minute he walked out the door because he couldn't get you off."

"Isaac," you told her and there was a blush creeping to your cheeks. Suddenly, you were regretting Emma being your best friend.

"Yes, Isaac. If I remember correctly that happened more than once with him. How you kept him around for four months is beyond me. You're a doctor woman, you can show him where the clit is, you know? Just take his hand and place it…"

"Thank you, Dr. Emma, I know where my clit is."

"But he didn't," she let out a bark of laughter that was so contagious you had to join in. Once you both calmed, Emma came right back at you about Jamie. "Look, he was your first love and maybe the sex wasn't as great as your sixteen-year-old mind remembers. Maybe you just fuck Jamie and that's all it is, a fuck, or maybe it's more. At least this way, you won't be holding him on some pedestal like he's a Greek god or something."

Maybe she was right and you'd been holding on for fourteen years thinking that what you and Jamie had was this truly magical once and a lifetime thing when in reality all it had been was sex. Let's face it, what your sixteen-year-old self thought was love could've been nothing more than lust. "I never thought he was a Greek god."

"Please, I was always envious about how you had this romantic first time. I mean mine was in the back of Kyle's jeep, and before you say anything he didn't know where the clit was either."

You both giggled again, but then you had to remind her of how things had ended. "It wasn't romantic when he said those things about me."

"He was sixteen (Y/N). I'm not making an excuse, but it's time to build that bridge. Maybe he's changed, maybe he hasn't. I'm not saying for you to give him your whole heart. I'm just saying, find out if what was there, was truly that once in a lifetime love or was it just this idea that you've been holding on to."

"But what if…" you stuttered while Emma waited for you to continue. "What if…I still love him, and he breaks my heart, again."

"(Y/N), that's the chance we all take when we open our hearts to love. You don't think that I felt that way with Caleb? That sometimes I still don't feel that way." She sighed. You could tell she was struggling with how to put her feelings into words. "He could walk out the door and leave me here alone, and my heart would break into pieces, but the love I have for him is so much greater than that fear." She made it sound so easy, but all you could remember was how completely hurt you'd felt when things had gone wrong with Jamie. "I know you're scared, and that's why you've closed your heart off for so long, but (Y/N) I promise you the minute you open it back up, your life is going to be even better than it is. And maybe it's Jamie that deserves your heart and maybe it's not, but you'll never know if you don't try."

"I know," you whispered weakly, for you really did know that. If it wasn't Jamie, it was going to have to be someone eventually, because you didn't want to be alone forever. It was just that gnawing fear in the back of your mind that Jamie would hurt you again as he had before. "I just don't want to break into a thousand pieces again."

"You won't (Y/N), and if you do, I'll be on the first flight to Dallas to help you pick them up." She would be, you knew that for sure because you couldn't ask for a better friend than Emma. "And I'll kick his ass as well." That made you laugh considering that Emma was five foot four, and Jamie was just over six foot. It would make for an interesting matchup, but you knew that Emma would take him down no matter the size difference.

"Thanks, Em."

"I just want you to be happy, (Y/NN); happy and in love, and I just have this gut feeling that Jamie can make that happen." There was only one way to find out, and that was to open up more to Jamie. It wouldn't be easy but after this little talk, you were willing to try. "Now, enough about this, because you're going to follow my advice. So tell me how everything else is going? Do you like work? Is it everything you thought it would be?"

"And so much more." You spent the next fifteen minutes catching up with each other before she kicked you off the phone to go make rounds at the hospital. Despite not having that many patients of your own at the moment, you were still looking after all of Dr. Lundin's. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when your phone rang, Jamie's name popping up on the screen. For a minute, you thought about not answering it, but then you remembered your conversation this morning with Emma and quickly hit the accept button. "Hey, Jame."

He seemed a bit startled that you answered. "Oh, hey (Y/NN). I was just giving you a call about a couple things."

"Ok, what's up?"

"Well, first off, I found your dress in my bathroom this morning."

"Oh shit, I totally forgot that I left it in there." You'd laid it over the tub last night when you changed, something that you did at home all the time. You had every intention of picking it up before you left, but then you'd fallen asleep and well, it kind of got lost in your mind as you freaked out over possibly having feelings for Jamie.

"It's no biggie. I hung it up in my closet." He paused as if he'd said something wrong. "Just so it didn't wrinkle anymore." Well, look at him being all domesticated.

"Thanks, that's sweet of you. I'll stop over and get it sometime from you."

"Oh, ok or I can bring it over. Whatever is easiest for you. I also wanted to see if there was a good time to reschedule that visit to the AAC? We kind of didn't get to go over my map too much last night. Plus, my artistic skills are a little rusty."

You'd forgotten all about the tour, but it would be a good excuse to spend some more time with Jamie to see where your feelings were. "Let me check my schedule." You switched him to speaker and flipped over to your calendar. "Oh, I'm headed to Jessi's tomorrow night to take her stitches out, so that won't work. Um, let me see about the next day."

"What about tonight?"

"Oh, tonight?" You weren't sure if you were ready to face him just yet, but a little voice, that sounded an awful lot like your best friend, told you there was no time like the present. "Yeah, I can do that. I was just getting ready to leave here in about ten minutes. What time were you thinking?"

"Whenever I'm free the rest of today, so if you just wanted to come straight here; that's fine."

This was really not the timeframe you wanted. You hadn't even taken any time this morning to do anything special with your hair or makeup, as you'd spent too much time talking to Emma. Though it wasn't like Jamie hadn't just seen you with drool on your face, wearing his sweats and your hair a complete disaster. Anything would be an improvement over that. It was that thought that had you saying, "Sounds good. I'll see you in about twenty minutes then."

"Ok see you soon." You hung up and then quickly went to add at least a bit of lip gloss and mascara to your face.

It was about twenty minutes later that you were pulling into your garage and then walking the short distance to Jamie's. This time foregoing parking at his place. He opened the door before you even had a chance to knock. "Hey, (Y/N). How's it going tonight?"

It seemed like a loaded question when he was standing there dressed in a pristine white dress shirt, his chest hair peeking out from where he'd undone the first couple buttons. Suddenly, your mouth went dry. When you were sixteen, Jamie didn't have a hair on his chest. Well, maybe there were one or two that he was awfully proud of, but they really didn't count. This was just another sign of how much he'd changed and grown into the man that stood before you today. You'd hoped he'd changed in other ways as well. "Much better tonight. My feet are all ready for you to give me the grand tour."

"Alright, then let's head out." He had his car in the garage, so you followed him through the house to the SUV. In true Jamie Benn fashion, he came over and opened the door for you. It was something he'd always done when you were younger, as his mom had instilled those gentlemanly courtesies in him. It was weird being in the car with him again. Part of you kept waiting for him to grab your hand and hold it like he used to and you found yourself glancing down every so often at his large fingers gripping the gearshift instead of your hand.

He pointed out different landmarks as you passed and told you that despite what the navigation system said this was the fastest way to get to downtown from your house. The two of you chatted the whole entire time, while the music played softly in the background. "So, you're going to want to use this gate." Jamie was saying right as his playlist changed to a song from the movie Frozen.

"So, are you are an Anna or an Elsa fan?" you teased.

"What?" It was then that he realized what was playing, and quickly changed the song. "I have that on here for my niece."

He pulled into the players' parking spot, "Uh huh, sure Jame. Admit it you like the movie." He shut the car off and you both got out.

"I may have watched it with Soph once," he said sheepishly and your heart warmed at the idea of him sitting there with the little girl watching one of Disney's hit movies. You always knew that he would make a great dad, and having that song just proved it.

You were walking side by side now and you couldn't resist dancing around him, while you sang the lyrics. "Let it go, let it go, can't hold it back anymore." You were walking backward not having a clue where you were going as you continued. "Come on Jame, sing with me. You know you want to…Let it go, let it go, turn away and slam the door."

"Stop," he chided but had a grin a mile long on his face.

You twirled around him another time, hands dancing along his arm. "I don't care what they're going to say," you belted out; the words echoing off the cement walls around you. "Let the storm rage on…"

"The cold never bothered me anyway." Jamie sang finally joining you. You bouncing up and down as he sang with you, not paying attention as your eyes were focused on him and not where you were going. He reached out and grabbed you right as you started to trip on a large cord that was behind you. "Careful there Elsa." Your hands went to his chest, your palm resting where his heart was racing, as his slid around your waist and pulled you in close to him. Pressed up against him, you couldn't help the urge that came over you to kiss him; he was just so close, and his eyes were smiling into yours, and it felt like the perfect moment to test the waters out. So, you slid your hands just a little further up his chest, and you raised up on your tiptoes so that your lips were mere inches from him, and then your watch chimed again; the damn thing reminding you to breathe, and the moment was lost.

You dropped back down onto the balls of your feet but still kept that smile plastered on your face. "Thanks for saving me Olaf," you said and tapped his chest, before stepping out of his embrace.

"Olaf? I was thinking more Kristoff."

You tapped your finger on your chin, looking him up and down. "You're right, I was wrong. You're definitely Sven."

"The reindeer?"

"I knew you've watched that movie more than just once with your niece."

You were finally at the door, and Jamie was entering a code to get into the building since there wasn't anything going on at the AAC today. "Ok, you got me, but really Sven?"

"What's wrong with Sven? He's sweet, kind, lovable…" Shit the moment the word came out of your mouth you wanted to take it back. Of course, Jamie was lovable too but you weren't sure you were ready to be the one loving him. There was too much uncertainty in doing that just yet. You coughed trying to cover up the slip of tongue and then added, "He's also oddly quiet when there are people around. Kind of like someone else I know."

He raked his hand through his hair, an action that your fingers longed to do. "I'm only that way around people I don't know…and the media." You knew this about him, of course, because you'd watched a few of his interviews. His answers were always clipped and short, which sometimes gave the impression he was standoffish, but then he would throw a little comment here and there and the real Jamie would come out. "But anyhow, we should be getting on with the tour."

"Lead the way."

JAMIE'S POV

Had she really just called you lovable? Moreover, had she just been about to kiss you? That damn watch of hers kept beeping at the most inappropriate times and it was maddening. Something had changed since she'd practically run out of your house this morning. You weren't sure what, but she'd definitely let her guard down some, and you were all for it. You knew it was going to take baby steps to get back into her heart, but those steps seemed to be coming more and more frequently and you weren't complaining.

You were surprised when (Y/N) agreed to the tour tonight, for you thought for sure that she'd avoid you at all cost after you had fallen asleep with her on the sofa last night. It was the last thing that you intended but she had felt so right in your arms, that you'd just let yourself get caught up in the moment. God, she looked so adorable this morning, hair messy, with her cheeks all rosy from sleeping on you, and then how she was wearing your sweats; there was nothing that you wanted more than to see her like that every day for the rest of your life. Baby steps, you reminded yourself.

The tour around the arena went pretty well. You showed her everything that you could think of, ending the tour in the training room, just as you had the other day. She was taking everything in, noticing that Dave and his crew had implemented all the ideas she had talked about the other day. "Everything look ok?"

"Oh yeah, they did an amazing job." She was opening drawers and checking supplies.

"Well, I guess that's the end of the tour then." You glanced down at your watch to notice that it was almost six o'clock. You were definitely going to hit rush hour traffic. "If we head out now, it'll probably take us an hour to get home. Maybe a little less, if I hurry."

"Oh, do you have to be some place?"

"Um…no. Why?"

"Well, you're all dressed up, thought maybe you had a hot date or something." There was a tremble in her voice that usually wasn't there, and you had to wonder if she asked the question in hopes that you weren't seeing anyone.

"No, no hot date. I actually…" Shit, now it was your turn to get all tongue-tied. "Well, I mean…I thought we could have dinner downtown here and really celebrate your big surgery."

"Oh!" There was a bit of shock in her voice. "I mean last night was perfect. You don't have to take me to dinner, after everything you did."

You raked your hands through your hair again. It was a bad nervous habit, that served as a distraction while you tried to think of something to say. This time there was nothing clever that came to mind. "What if I want to take you to dinner?"

The corner of her lip picked up on the right side of her face, that was the first sign she gave, telling you that she liked the idea. It got you excited that she might just agree, to the plan you had, but then it seemed like she was getting into her head, as she took a moment to think about your offer. "You know what?" It wasn't really a question, so you remained quiet. "Dinner sounds amazing, but only on one condition." You cocked a brow at her, silently asking what that was. "I get to buy."

"Oh no, I asked you out." Oh shit, that came out wrong, you didn't mean it to sound like you'd asked her out on a date, that for sure would scare her away. "Besides my mom would kill me if she found out I let you pay," you quickly added hoping that it would cover up your blunder.

"Hmm," she mused. "I guess we'll just have to see who has the quicker hands when the check comes then." That sure sounded like a yes to you.

"You're on, but I plan on winning."

"We'll see," she said as she headed out the door of the training room. "Now, let me see if I can remember how to get out of here." She led the way out to the car and you only had to direct her one time, which was pretty good considering it took you a week to find your way around the place.

The restaurant was one of the finest Dallas had to offer, and one of the main reasons why you didn't want (Y/N) paying, though you were sure that wouldn't deter her from trying. Being that you weren't sure if (Y/N) was going to say yes to dinner, you didn't have a reservation, though when you slipped the maître d a hundred-dollar bill and your name; you were suddenly shown the nicest table in the place, one that was quiet and out of the way. Conversation between you and (Y/N) flowed easily, as did the wine, though you made sure not to drink too much as you'd be driving the two of you home. It also helped you grab the check when the waiter brought it at the end of the night.

"That's not fair." (Y/N) chided as your long arms reached out and snagged the leather pouch out of the man's hands, who looked a bit taken back by the action.

"You said whoever had the fastest hands."

"Yes, but I clearly had more wine than you, which limited my ability, and now I'm convinced you did that on purpose." She was always so adorable when she pouted, but right now you just wanted to kiss those pursed lips and you were having a hard time holding yourself back from doing just that.

"One of us needed to drive home, but you didn't protest when I poured that last glass."

"Well, it clearly didn't help my motor skills that's for sure. Though please mark it down, that I am paying next time." Next time? So, she planned on going out with you again. You were making more headway than you thought.

You decided to forge ahead while she was in such a good mood, as you were coming close to running out of excuses for the two of you to get together. "And when would this next time be?"

"Um, I'll have to check my schedule, but maybe I could cook you dinner next week. You know as maybe a thank you for helping me." She sat there across from you with this shy little smile playing across her lips. The look all too tantalizing, for it was doing things that it shouldn't to your nether regions.

"Dinner at your place huh? Sounds like an offer I can't refuse." You paid the bill and then the two of you headed out. The drive back was fun, as the two of you continued with your flirtatious banter the whole way home. When you turned onto your street, disappointment reared its ugly head as the night was coming to an end. You wanted to spend more time with her. Hell, if you were being realistic you want her to fall asleep in your arms again so you could hold her all night long. You pulled into the garage, then got out of the car to help (Y/N) out.

"Thanks for everything today, Jame. Including dinner which I was supposed to pay for."

"You know I can run some drills with you to sharpen your hand-eye coordination if you want." There were also some other drills you'd like to be doing with her in the bedroom.

"Well, I may just take you up on that." The two of you were standing in the driveway, not knowing how to end the night. If this was truly a date, you'd walk her home and maybe kiss her, but would she smack you if you tried that now? "I should be getting home. Thanks again for everything." She started down the drive, walking at a leisurely pace.

"Hey (Y/NN)," you called out and she turned back towards you as you trotted up beside her. "Can I walk you home?" She gave you a curious look, and it did sound rather funny considering she lived only two doors down, but you weren't ready for your time with her to end just yet.

You were just about to stumble through how it was just for safety, when she said, "Sure." You smiled at her and the two of you started the extremely short walk to her house. "You know, tonight was a lot of fun."

"Yeah, it really was." You wanted to say it reminded you of old times, but you didn't want to bring up the bad ones that also went with that. "We should do it more often."

"I'd like that." (Y/N) was shocking you at every turn tonight and you weren't sure what mystical force was in the air but you prayed that it didn't go away and make her hate you again. A comfortable silence fell over you both, it was one that you had with her long ago, though back then it was as if you could read each other thoughts. Now, you weren't sure what was going on in that complex mind of hers but if it continued to lead her on a path towards you; you weren't going to question it.

You were just about to her front door, and damn if that didn't feel as if the two of you were speed walking over, even though you were strolling at a leisurely pace. Again, you searched for something so that you wouldn't have to leave her company just yet. "Hey, how's your patient doing? The one who's leg you saved."

"Really great actually. I stopped in right before I left. He's got a long road ahead of him, but he was in really good spirits today."

"All because of you."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would." She blushed at the compliment, as you finally made it to the front door.

"Well, this is me." She said with a cute little smile and a shrug of her shoulder.

There was really nothing more you could say to keep you at her front door, so you found yourself saying, "I guess my duty is fulfilled…now that you're safe at home and all."

"So it seems." Was that a hint of reluctance you heard in her voice? Was she as sad to see the night end as you were? "Thanks again, Jame. It was fun." She entered the code to get in the house, unlocking the door and opening it. What she did next almost had you falling over, as she went up on her toes and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. "Goodnight, Jame."

A smile so bright, it could've lit up all of Dallas, appeared on your face, and she ducked inside right as you said. "Goodnight, (Y/NN)." As soon as the door closed, you pressed a hand to your cheek making sure that what had just happened was real and not something that you imagined. It had been real alright, and you felt like you were fifteen again, all giddy at the thought that the girl you liked, liked you back.

Thank goodness, you only lived two doors down as you don't remember how you got back inside your own home, but there you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror grinning like a fool as you looked at the spot (Y/N) had just kissed. Now more than ever, you couldn't wait to see her again. Unfortunately, you had no excuse to call her this time or no definite date of when you'd see her again, just a promise that the two of you would have dinner again soon. While you looked forward to that, you wished that it would be happening sooner rather than later. You'd just have to come up with a plan.

It seemed fate had your back this time though, as the following evening found her knocking on your door. "I hate to do this, but can I come in?" (Y/N) asked as she stood outside in the pouring rain, looking like a drowned rat. Well, maybe not a rat, but a very cute wet puppy for sure.

"Yeah, sure." You said stepping aside as a loud crack of thunder sounded in the air.

"I'm sorry to do this, but the code to the house isn't working and I left my phone, and my bag, at Jessi's when I was taking out her stitches." She stood there dripping wet in your foyer. "If I could just use your phone to call her, I'll run back over there."

"Run? Where's your car?"

"Locked, in the garage. I didn't realize it was going to storm and had just walked over there. I was almost home when it started."

"Let me grab you a towel." You went and grabbed one out of the guest bathroom downstairs, then handed it to her to dry off. "I'll call Jess for you, but you're not running back over there. I'll drive you."

She gave you a smile, before toweling off her hair. "Thank you."

You went to the kitchen to grab your phone and call your soon to be sister-in-law. "Hey, Jess."

"Hey, Chubbs, what's up?" Jess replied.

"(Y/N) locked herself out of the house and I guess she left her stuff at your place. I was going to drive her over so she could get it if that's ok."

There was silence on the other end of the phone and you were wondering if the two of you got disconnected or something with the storm. "Hmmm," she finally mumbled. "I'm going to do you a huge favor here and tell you I'm not home, even though I totally am."

"What?"

"You know I love you, but you're so dense sometimes." How were you the one that was dumb when she didn't make any sense? "Tell (Y/N) that I had to run to a friend's house and you're not sure when I'll be home with the storm. That way the two of you can spend a little more time together."

"Oh," you said as you finally caught on to her plan.

"You owe me one. Tell her I'll call you when I get back, which probably won't be for a while." You'd take all the time that you could get with (Y/N). "If you don't answer, I'll take that as a good sign." You could almost see her winking at you through the phone.

"Thank Jess. You're literally the best."

"I know," she quipped back, then hung up the phone.

You went back out to where (Y/N) was standing in your entryway. "Apparently, Jess took off to a friend's house the minute you left. She said she's didn't realize you left your stuff or she would've dropped it off. She's going to call when she gets back, but it's going to be a bit with the storm."

"Oh," (Y/N) stood there a little shocked, not knowing what to do. "Well, maybe if I go try the code again it will work."

Another crack of thunder, with streaks of lightning, filled the sky. "(Y/N), you are not going back over there in the rain. Just stay here until the storm dies down. They usually pass pretty quick." But then again, sometimes they didn't and this was one you were hoping would stick around for at least a few more hours.

#Jamie Benn #Jamie Benn Imagine #Jamie Benn Imagines #Dallas Stars Imagine #Dallas Stars imagines #Dallas Stars Fanfic #Jamie Benn Facfic #NHL fan fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey fanfic #ruined the series

95 notes · View notes

imagine-that-one-thing · 4 years ago

Text

Her Majesty. || 20

Cruella

Anastasia.

The palace halls' are bustling just like my thoughts are overflowing and seizing to stop. I haven't spoken to or seen Harry since we fell asleep last night. Everything was great until it wasn't.

It is partially my fault for what occurred last night. I shouldn't have glanced at his desk and picked up the file, his work is his business, and I had no right to look. I was intrigued. I didn't anticipate recovering photos of what transpired the night my father died, and I didn't expect all the emotions to boil over and cause me to break.

I walk to the stables, the last resort of attempting to attain Harry. When I woke up this morning, I had hoped he would be close by. He habitually tries to linger when he knows I need to be awake at certain times, but I received no greeting this morning. No text, no call, nothing.

I mindfully lead down the hill; strands of thin light come from the sky, springing in between the cloudy May morning. The malachite-green fields appear covered in a bright sheen under the morning rays. The sparkling morning dew is making itself present as I slide on the soggy grass, almost sliding down to a host of daisies dispersed at the bottom.

I find myself safe and sound at the bottom of the hill and in the presence of the horse stables. I discover Harry standing at the fence, leaning his arms on the top panel as he watches a few of the horses being moved around by trainers. Harry glances over his shoulder and sees me but diverts his attention back to the horses. My breath hitches in my throat as I inch closer, I had assumed our issue from last night had subsided, but from the look on his face, I was wrong.

"Been looking all over for you," I break the silence as I stand beside him.

Harry proceeds to stare at the horses, intently observing them. I can only presume he is out here for some fresh air and to clear his head for a few moments before going back to work. "Been here," Harry responds.

"Are we okay?"

Harry breaks his stare from the animals and cocks his head to the side to glance at me. Then, Harry takes a deep breath and nods, "Your horse is doing well," Harry gestures to Meadow as she leads with the trainer.

"Yes," I agree, "Why are you out here?"

"I am watching the horses."

"Why?" I press.

"See the horse on the left?" Harry questions, and I nod my head, "She's going to be racing with yours. They're both good contenders for the Ascot."

"Where did she come from? Mum's horse is grey."

"She's mine… Well, she is ours," Harry responds, "Been watching her train for the last six months."

"When did you have time to buy another horse?" I cross my arms over my chest. I don't know half the shit Harry does, but I am not surprised by him having another horse.

Harry shrugs his shoulders, "Well, the man next to Mum started training her, but he couldn't do it alone. He asked if I would help, and I couldn't, so he brought her down here. Your Mum said she could stay in the stables."

I raise a brow, "Okay… We can discuss the horse thing later, but why are you bouncing around my question on why you are out here? You don't hide out here. I have been looking for you for an hour."

"You know how you need alone time? So do I. You should go inside and get your cuts cleaned up properly," Harry gestures back towards the Palace.

"I am fine," I mutter, "What is wrong, Harry?"

Harry sighs and bends down, picking up a black file from beside his feet and handing it to me, "You want us to be an open book; here it is. I don't want you snooping through the office, I have nothing to hide, but there are sensitive things in that office that you do not need to see." Harry begins as I take the file from his hands, "This file… I am hesitant to give it to you, but if it stops us from arguing, so be it. This is information and pictures of all the suspects that could be linked to your father's murder. Matthew and I have been working with an undercover cop that Parliament hasn't paid off to keep quiet. I have a private detective working with us as well. Every person in this file are suspects and people to be wary of."

"Why are you—"

Harry cuts me off, "I don't want you arguing with me over it. That is why I am showing you. These people are all dangerous. I know what to look for when I am out. I can protect myself and don't need protecting. Matthew has enough faith in me to know I don't need security at all hours. I am safe, Anna. But you need to be aware of these people. Remember their faces in case they come around."

"Just because you can look after yourself, it doesn't mean something can't happen."

"I am trained to do what I do; I am qualified to deal with situations. Let me worry about safety, and you worry about governing the monarch. I am not trying to be condescending, but I don't want to fight with you over my safety. I also don't want you finding things you don't need to see."

"I didn't mean to find what I found. And I don't want to argue; I am just worried about you."

"I know," Harry nods, his eyes ultimately softening, "I am fine, Anastasia, Matthew and I know what we are doing. You wanted us to uncover who did this, and we are. You need to let me do my job as security personnel, and you need to let me do what needs to be done."

I become withdrawn and open the file, my eyes momentarily skimming the photos and the information written under each image. No surprise, half of these members are part of Parliament. "I am working on proving they are immoral. Your mother and I are coming up with a plan."

"My mother is in on this?"

Harry nods, "Yes, sweetheart."

"You're not a detective or an assassin, and you can't do this."

"I promised you I would find who did this. We know what we are doing. Can we please leave this conversation alone now?"

I hand Harry the file back and clear my throat, deciding that sometimes what I do not know will not hurt me. I understand where Harry is coming from. "So, you have another horse in Ascot? How rich are you?" I chuckle.

"Not very," Harry responds. "Speaking of money though," Harry begins, "There is a house up for sale in the countryside. Would you like to take a look at it? It would be a good escape for you, so you aren't always on royal grounds."

"I haven't even looked at the Duchy of Lancaster. I have no clue what is in that trust that I have now inherited."

I have no clue how the trusts work. My father took care of everything, making sure I had everything I needed. Now, I have no clue how much money is sitting in my name or what to do with it.

I know there is land, estates, and God knows what at my disposal. My father never prepared me for financial things; he prepared me for hosting banquets and talking to world leaders.

"Baby, I didn't ask if you would pay. I asked if you wanted to look at it and discuss it."

"We can," I agree, "But I don't want our homes to be a part of the royal estates or trusts."

"As you wish," Harry nods, "I will send you what I found. Look for something you want. I am going back to work." Harry steps away from the fence, beginning to walk away from me.

"Harry," I call his name, and he turns around to look at me, "Are you sure we are okay?"

Harry nods his head and steps closer to me, "Yes. I am going to work. I love you. But before I go," Harry leans closer, "There's a hidden trust; you might want to find it." Finally, Harry whispers before he kisses my cheek and shuffles away, leaving me alone near the stables.

As much as he says we are okay, there's a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. No matter what, I am not going to like the idea of Harry and Matthew doing what they are doing. When I was in an emotional rage, of course, I wanted them to avenge my father's murderer, but not I want them both safe. I know they are knowledgeable and highly trained men, but I don't want the wrong person to find out what they are doing and turn the tables. Likewise, I don't want Harry getting caught up in anything more than what he already has.

♛ ♛ ♛

With Harry being tied to me, he is at a greater risk than he was beforehand. I don't think he quite understands, but I need to trust that he knows what he is doing.

I convene at my desk, carrying on my day of signing documents, writing letters, organising the royal tour with my assistant and doing my best to come up with ideas for the charities I represent.

On top of everything, I also have the task of discovering more about the armed forces. As the Queen, I can declare war and peace under the Royal Prerogatives, meaning I must stay updated with all foreign affairs. This type of pressure is something I do not want. If there is anything, my father was best at understanding his troops and knowing what to do in every situation. My father may not have been the most beneficial at opening charity events or attaining the right charities to represent. Still, his military was at the top of his priority list. I can only assume his devotion is due to him being a military member himself.

My father served in the forces before I was born. I must continue his work and devotion to the troops, not just as Queen but also as his daughter. With each day that crosses, the list of things I need to tend to is getting more comprehensive, adding pressure to my shoulders. I am drowning in the depths of the royal monarchy.

I glance towards Estelle and hit my pen on the paper in front of me, "Estelle," I distract her from the letters she is sorting through, "Will you get me the report of the day's parliamentary proceedings and find me someone who knows something about the military... Who helped my father?"

"Your Majesty, Prince Louis was the one who helped him the most."

"Great, tell him I want him in my office, please," I smile towards her, "I don't care if he is busy with Madeleine."

Estelle chuckles and nods her head, "I will, and I will get you the report," she responds, standing from her position and marching out of my office, leaving me alone for the first time today.

I take a moment to adjust my task from royal duties to hunting for a property that will not be associated with the royal family-- something that will be mine and Harry's. I explore the internet, unsure of what I am looking for. All I genuinely recognise is I want something homey, something that isn't just four walls and a roof, something that will be a nice escape from a life that I have never wanted. I want a small, cosy place where I won't have to worry whether staff will be watching or if the security cameras are on. I want something ordinary, maybe something with a vegetable patch or a small garden for me to look after. I don't want anything substantial.

"Ah, Anna, my darling friend," Louis enters my office with his arms spread out with an extensive grin across his face, "This better be good because I was-- Well, nevermind what I was doing," Louis trails off with a shit-eating grin, prompting me to shake my head.

"I don't even want to know, Louis," I screw my nose up at the possible thoughts of what he was up to. "I need some help."

"You're beyond help."

"Oi," I laugh, "If I wanted a smartass, I would have summoned Harry."

Louis nods his head, "I would say he is more of the prick than a smartass," Louis laughs, "He is a prick but also a standup guy."

"I didn't call you in here to discuss Harry. I need some help with this military stuff," I gesture towards the paperwork on my desk, "I don't know the first thing about this. You were my Dad's second hand."

Louis moans and slumps down in the chair beside me, "That is privileged information, and so is whatever I tell you, so what is in it for me?" Louis questions, holding the papers in his hands and flicking through them.

"Well," I begin, "I will let you continue staying at the Palace rent-free while you screw my other friend," I respond with a smirk, "And I will keep your secrets about what you do in the rooms that you are not meant to be in."

Louis stares at me with his lips wide apart, "Yeah, my husband is second in commands with security, and he watches the cameras. So he views every dirty thing you have done between events."

"Bloody Harry," Louis shakes his head, "Okay, well, since the cat is out of the bag, I shall help," Louis accepts, taking my laptop and commencing to take control over the word document, typing away and explaining as he goes. "Before I get too deep into this, who else knows about the shenanigans I have done?"

"Just Harry, he turns the camera's off to shield your dignity."

Louis shrugs his shoulders, "Hm, good man," Louis nods, "So, I-"

I cut him off, "So you should continue to help me unless you want Harry to stop hiding your sex tapes."

"Ouch, that is so dirty. They're not sex tapes, Anastasia. I was hoping you wouldn't act like I haven't seen you and Harry sneak off."

"So, the military," I change the subject, gesturing towards my laptop, "You type and explain," I command, not wanting to address private matters any further, he may be my best guy friend, but we do not discuss these things when the Palace staff can hear us.

I glance up from the desk and recognise Pippa waltzing in with papers in her hands. Pippa grants me a smile and stares towards Louis, "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Cruella de Vil," Louis mutters.

Pippa places the papers in her hand on my desk, not breaking her gaze from Prince Louis, "The thing is, I was born brilliant, born bad, and a little bit mad. I'm Cruella. So don't piss me off." She recites a line from the real Cruella.

"Oh, you bring shivers to my spine; how will I ever sleep at night?" Louis leans back in his chair, amused by the banter.

"On a bed of nails with any luck," Pippa mutters, "I need you to sign these," Pippa pushes the papers towards me, "Parliament needs to be opened."

I nod my head and bring the papers closer to me, and Louis takes them from me, "So, do you plan to let me be reinstated in Parliament or are you still banishing me?" Louis questions, taking me by surprise.

When was Louis part of Parliament to begin with?

"Louis, darling, you're not fit to be in Parliament. We have been through this."

"No," Louis shakes his head, "You have been through this. I suggest you let me in."

"And I suggest that you sit down. Little boys should be seen and not heard."

"Pippa," I scold, "He is still a Prince. You will show respect," I inform Pippa, reminding her of her position. Pippa may be prime minister, but she still has an obligation to respect all royal members. "I will open parliament when I am ready."

"Anna, I don't need to remind you of the symbolism of the unity of Parliament's three parts."

I heavily groan and nod my head, "Yes, the Sovereign, the House of Lords and the House of Commons. I know, I am not a moron, as I said, I will open it when I am ready, Pippa."

"I suggest you make a wise decision and open it sooner rather than later."

"Pippa," I begin, "I will force the dissolution of Parliament through a refusal of royal assent if you don't leave me alone." I threaten her, not wanting to open Parliament until I know what I want to do. I do not wish to open Parliament with the members I currently have.

"You cannot do that alone," Pippa shakes her head, "So, sign and open."

Harry descends into the room, and I perceive him wander closer, his eyes staring at Pippa from behind as I begin to speak, "Pippa, all due respect, but I will do it when I am ready."

Pippa has no desire to take my word.

Louis clears his throat, "Cruella, she has told you she will do it when she is ready."

"Better men have called me worse things," Pippa returns bitterly.

"I doubt that they were better men," Harry interrupts the small feud that is happening in my office, "Now, I suggest you curtsey to the Queen and walk out." Harry advances forward as Pippa turns around to observe him. "Don't look at me like that. Your stare doesn't scare me."

"It ought to."

"It doesn't," Harry responds, "Now, get out. I want to speak to my wife."

"Your wife is busy."

"Pippa," Harry settles himself, taking a breath and closing his eyes for a brief moment, "Sometimes dead is better, you know a little something about that, don't you?" Then, Harry questions, "Now, if you don't get out, you will find yourself with Henry."

"Is that a threat, Harry?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, merely a comment, now walk," Harry points towards the door.

Pippa doesn't speak, and she keeps her lips tight as she half curtseys to me and begins to make her way to the door.

"Oh, so him she listens to," Louis mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

Pippa glances over her shoulder, "He has the power to kill me, and he's better looking," Pippa responds, waving her hand and walking out of my office.

I stare at Louis and Harry before I shake my head, unsure of what just happened in my office. "Harry, my best pal." Louis grins, his cheery tone not working magic on Harry.

"What do you want?" Harry sighs, walking around the desk and coming towards me, leaving a kiss to the top of my head before he leans on my desk.

"Pippa seems to be scared of you, and I want to be back in parliament, make it happen."

Harry shakes his head, "I can't, I have no power over Parliament if I did… Well," Harry pauses, "Nevermind, I won't finish my sentence."

Louis pauses for a moment, looking towards me for help, but I don't intervene. I had no clue Louis wanted to be a part of political matters. "You're King, and you have just as much power as Anna."

"Sure, Louis, run in parliament, I don't give a damn," Harry responds, his tone of voice coming across as agitated.

"You're a bit hostile," I point out, regarding Harry's tone of voice and the way his mood hasn't changed since Pippa marched out. "What has you all rattled?"

"Is he not always hostile?" Louis chuckles, causing Harry to break a small smile.

Finally.

"I am," Harry nods, "I don't feel the best, and Pippa irks my nerves. Can we please get rid of her?"

Louis looks back down at the paperwork Pippa wants me to sign, "Since you have the means to kill her, why don't you? Do us all a favour."

"Oi," I interrupt the two men, "That is not how we speak around here. We do not condone murder. We have had enough murder."

"We can discuss a plan later," Louis shakes his head. "When she isn't around," Louis gestures towards me.

"Mhm," Harry hums, "You were so sweet when I first met you. So what the fuck happened?"

"He hung out with you," I murmur while Harry moves a few things around on my desk, purposely making sure they are not in their proper position. I don't know why Harry enjoys rearranging my desk.

"Anyway," Harry begins, "I came here to tell you that it isn't a good idea to open Parliament right now. I would recommend you don't listen to Pippa."… "With that being said, I am going to go lay down before I have to escort your mother through the tunnels."

"What do you know?" I instantly ask.

Harry shrugs, "She wants it open to try and gain more control. Goodbye, Louis. Goodbye, darling," Harry kisses my cheek before stepping away from my desk, not giving me much more detail to work with.

I wake up to a refreshing breeze tapping my skin that the soft sheets haven't covered.

When I finished my impromptu meeting with Louis, Harry wasn't back home; he was still on my mother's service. I am not sure where they went or what they were doing— all I know is that when Harry came home, he collapsed to the bed and fell asleep, barely managing to mumble a Goodnight to me.

I stretch my arm over to Harry's side, surprised when I notice it empty. I sit up in the bed and glance around, my eyes settling on the white balcony curtains whirling with the inadequate breeze. I get out of bed and follow the draft. My hand pushes the sheer white curtains to the side, and I step out on the balcony.

The early morning air is a little crisp for my liking, but it's soothing. The breeze drifts through my hair, the summery feeling still evident as another day of June will wake in a few hours. I cross my hands over my chest, shielding myself from the light breeze.

"Waking up alone is getting old," I softly make Harry aware of my presence, and he turns to gaze at me.

"Hey, why are you awake?" He asks, his voice low and flat, his arm resting in an L shape.

"I'm not sure. Are you getting ready to go to work?" I ask, considering it's around the time he obliges to start getting ready. His hours are all over the place, and I can never keep track. I rarely wake up to him still in bed.

Harry shakes his head, "I don't feel too well."… "The pain is getting worse." His voice is flat and laced with pain he’s trying to hide.

"In your shoulder?" I softly challenge, and Harry nods his head just as enough light touches his face for me to recognise the fullness of his eyes and most of the colour drained from his face. "Go sit down, and I'll be right back," I instruct as I step back into the room and grab a robe.

I wrap the robe around me and exit my room. The door closes behind me, and I look both ways of the hallway, stopping when I recognise Matthew with his arms crossed and his figure stepping closer to me.

"Where exactly are you planning to go?" He questions.

"I need an ice pack or two. Will you accompany me?" I softly request, already knowing the answer. There's no chance of Matthew allowing me to walk around at this hour by myself.

Matthew and I wander the hushed hallways, passing closed doors and darkened rooms. The Palace at this hour is quite eerie. There's no staff bustling around, and if there is, there's very few of them. Everyone is mostly asleep. The only people awake are the security team and the kitchen staff, who get up early to prepare for the day. "Do you ever sleep, Matthew?"

Matthew laughs and shrugs his shoulders, "On occasions, Her Majesty."

"Why must you address me formally?" I groan, nudging him as we progress to walk back to my room.

"You are the Queen."

"My name is Anastasia," I correct Matthew. "So, when are we letting my husband take over as head of security?" I half-heartedly joke, wanting to proceed with the walk with conversation and not silence.

"Perhaps, when I retire," Matthew responds, "Thought you wanted him out of the security business?"

I shrug my shoulders, "I do, but I know he wants to work, so who am I to stand in his way?"

"He's good at what he does. Best worker I've had in my entire career."

"Mhm," I hum, "So, how much closer are we to finding my fathers murderer?"

"Anna, I will not discuss that with you," Matthew shakes his head, "On a rare occasion, I made a deal with Harry. I promised him I wouldn't tell you."

"Go figure," I roll my eyes, "I just want to be in the loop."

"You know enough, focus on running the monarchy and let me and him do our job," Matthew presses in a polite manner. No matter how hard I press, I don't foresee Matthew or Harry giving me too much information.

I am sure they have leads and their suspicions, and I am sure they can prove who killed who, but I want to know.

While walking back, I think about Louis. He told me earlier that he had the opportunity to be in Parliament and was running until Pippa knocked him down. After that, Pippa refused to let him be in the office, and my father agreed with her, stating he was too young to be playing in the business.

I don't think Pippa declined him and banished him for his age, but more so because she knew he would not be on her side. Louis joined the political party, but Pippa refused to let him stay on.

He was forced into his royal duties since Pippa refused his entry into Parliament.

Louis' life is a bit complicated. He isn't a royal on standard terms. Louis' parents are royals of the Kingdom of Sweden. He will never become a King; he is a very distant Prince, around tenth in line for the throne. He will only ascend the throne on the death of the entire family. Despite being born a Prince, Louis was not born in Sweden. He was born in the United Kingdom, therefore making him a citizen here.

Due to my father's tight ties with Sweden, they agreed to allow Louis to represent both countries as he got older. When Louis turned eighteen, he kept his title as Prince but showed his dedication to upholding both ties, wanting to be a part of the British notions. My father agreed, taking him under his wing. Louis spent most of his childhood here with me. At the time, I am sure our parents thought we would grow up to get married. Instead, I married a commoner, and he is dating an heir to the throne. Madeleine will ascend the throne on her mother's death; she will become the Queen of Denmark.

Louis wants to regain his role in Parliament, and I think he would be exceptional, but I don't believe Pippa will allow it. She will fight me tooth and nail, and I don't want to fight her on more issues. Louis will have to find a way to enter Parliament. Perhaps Harry can help him figure something out.

📷

I move into my room and close the door behind me, surprised when I don't recognise Harry on the balcony or in the bed. I follow the dim light to the bathroom and locate Harry leaning over the sink with the water running and his arm in an L shaped being held by his hand.

"What happened?"

"I moved my shoulder the wrong way, and the pain… fuck, the pain was so bad it had me throwing up," Harry breathes out, "Go back to bed, I'll be fine."

"I'm not going back to bed," I respond, caressing my hand to his back and rubbing soothing circles, "Do you want me to call the doctor up here?" I offer, clutching a face towel and running it under the water before holding it to his forehead.

"I don't think she can do anything."

"She can give you something for the pain," I suggest, dabbing his reddened cheeks and shifting away from a few stray and fallen curls from his forehead, "How long has it been like this?"

"It has been getting progressively worse over the last month. I can't move my shoulder much," Harry confesses.

"You've been lying to me."

"I didn't want you to worry," Harry responds, "I'm okay, really, please go back to bed." Harry leans away from the face towel and gestures towards the bedroom, still cradling his arm.

Harry and I step into the bedroom, and he sits on the edge of the bed with a groan. I grab the ice packs I ventured out to get, and I gingerly sit beside him on the bed. "It's going to be cold, but it'll help with the pain," I inform Harry.

"Anna, please don't touch my shoulder, I'm begging. I can't handle more pain."

"It won't be painful. It's just a cold pack," I assure Harry, holding the cold pack to his shoulder ever so gently. Harry instantly lets out a breath and bows his head. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Been a bit busy," Harry responds, "Don't have time for this. Have the Ascott coming up and your royal tour."

"Well, you're going to have to make time," I sigh, holding the ice pack in place. "How are you feeling?"

"I am wonderful," Harry sarcastically responds, "Never felt better."

"No need for sarcasm," I mutter, rubbing his lower back while he takes a few deep breaths.

Harry has never been one to complain. On the contrary, he has barely missed a day of work since he began working at the Palace; even when he is sick, he has always showed up and done his best.

The royal doctor steps into the room and looks at me, "You look fine?" She challenges, scanning me up and down. I shake my head and gesture to Harry on the bed.

It is a change of events. For once, it isn't me calling for her to assist me; it is him.

"I am guessing you didn't follow up post-surgery, huh?" she questions, stepping towards Harry and bending down to kneel beside the bed.

Harry grunts and shakes his head, not bothering to defend himself. I had no clue things were this bad with his shoulder. I was under the impression the surgery went well, and he was on the road to a full recovery. He didn't show too many signs of pain until just recently. The doctor begins to check his vitals before taking a breath and touching his shoulder, putting pressure on him just enough to cause him to hiss. "I barely touched you," she defends, "Can you lift your arm?"

"If I could, do you think you would be here?" Harry snarls, letting out a heavy breath before apologising for his tone of voice.

"I am not going to stand here and waste time, and I am calling for you to go to the Hospital. I'll call for an ambulance."

"No," Harry shakes his head, "I can drive."

"Not a chance," the doctor shakes her head, "I know you are aware of what protocol is, and this is my protocol. You need surgery, and you're getting it, now," she informs him, taking her phone from her pocket and unlocking it. Harry groans in the background and continues to shake his head. He disputes the idea of an ambulance, arguing until we agree to find another way to get him to where he needs to be.

He's pretty stubborn, but I understand why he doesn't want an ambulance. He doesn't want attention drawn to him and doesn't believe he needs to take an ambulance from someone else when he is in perfect condition to wait.

♛ ♛ ♛

I remain in the hospital room with Matthew, both remaining in silence and staring at the oblique walls. At four in the morning, there isn't much to do or say. Against Harry's wishes, we brought him to King Edward VII's Hospital; he refused to be taken by ambulance, so we compromised and took him to the private Hospital by a car Matthew drove. He had exactly two minutes to sign medical papers before he was whisked off to surgery.

The Hospital is modest, with 56 beds and boasting more than four nurses to every patient. The Hospital has been in the family for decades. The Hospital was established in 1899 to treat injured soldiers fighting in the Second World War.

Just down the corridor from reception is the well-stocked library. It baffles me that there is such an extensive library, but others may want to read while waiting in anticipation. I don't want to read a novel about a love story, science or really anything. I want to be told that the surgery went well and Harry is okay.

I hear my phone go off, and I ignore it, continuing to stare at the walls, my foot tapping against the floor.

Ding, Ding, Ding.

I tiredly grab my phone, the dinging sounding every second causing me to glance towards Matthew. Matthew raises a brow, the irritating noise also coming from his phone.

I blink a few times at my screen, "You've got to be kidding me," I sigh profoundly, reading the banner on my phone that displays breaking news. "How? How does anyone know?" I immediately ask, clicking the link and beginning to read the article.

"Breaking news, on the advice of the Royal Highness's Doctor, one of Britain's royal members has been taken to Hospital. It is unknown which royal has been rushed in. The unknown monarch was taken by private car to King Edward VII Hospital in London.

All official engagements for this week, including the Queen's trip to Rome, will more than likely be postponed. The Queen is likely not to attend the Ascott. More information to come soon."

I glance towards Matthew, who shakes his head before he taps the phone screen and touches it to his ear. "I need Police officers to guard the entrance of King Edward VII Hospital, now." Matthew speaks into his phone, "And I need two guards at the entrance of room 15." Matthew ends the call and peers towards me, "Either someone saw us, or there is a palace snitch."

"What do we do?"

"Good question," Matthew bites on his lip as he operates his fingers through his hair. "I uh... I do not know. It is your decision... What should we tell the press?"

"It is none of their business. Harry is a private man."

Matthew nods, "He won't be too happy if we release his name."

"Can we say the articles are fake?"

"There are pictures…" Matthew shakes his head, "I'll think of something, don't stress over it. I'll handle it."

"Okay," I agree, "What do I do about a snitch? I don't want a snitch in my Palace."

"I will handle it. But, unfortunately, there are a few new guys who Harry and I didn't trust."… "Do I have permission to fire anyone I deem unfit?"

"Be my guest," I agree, putting my phone down.

I do not want my trust broken within my Palace. I should trust that all staff will keep their lips tightly sealed when it comes to private matters.

Harry will be pissed to find out that the media have written about this.

If there is a snake in my Palace, I will not allow them to get away with speaking to the press. Over the years, staff have been known to sell stories to the media for the right price. It drove my Father insane, but sometimes he understood the circumstances. As much as the staff are paid as well, there have been times during the years that the staff have not received enough to make ends meet.

♛ ♛ ♛

Harry and I relax on the balcony overlooking the beautiful garden behind the hospital, both of us taking the time to inhale the morning air and watch the gardens come to life as the sun continues to rise. Harry has a light blanket draped around his shoulders while in a shoulder sling to stop him from moving his shoulder too much. He looks miserable, but he isn't in as much unbearable pain that he was in and throwing up.

His free hand holds his cup of orange juice, and he screws his nose up with every drink he takes. "It isn't coffee," Harry huffs, "A little coffee won't hurt."

"You're on morphine, no," I shake my head, leaning back on my chair and enjoying the quiet morning.

"Fair point," Harry sighs, "Your first Royal tour is coming up. How do you feel about that?"

"Why are you making small talk?" I curiously ask, "You're meant to be sleeping."

"Hasn't fully kicked in yet," Harry answers, "I'm asking because I'm not going to be able to make it for the first part of your Royal tour."

I grow quiet, well aware that there's a good chance he won't be on tour with me. However, I had an idea after the events of the last few hours. Harry being in as much pain as he is in can only mean one thing— his surgery wasn't successful, and he will need another.

I have no desire to do the tour alone, I want him with me, but it isn't his fault. There comes a time I have to be a big girl and do what Queens do— keep moving forward.

I can do it on my own; I do not need him. I want him. I know the difference.

"I know," I softly sigh, "I suppose I'll think of something."

"I'm sorry, Anna."

"I know, I heard from the doctor… it was crucial to get it fixed," I remind him of the words she told him. She was very blunt with telling him.

"I don't think I can physically go; they're not going to let me. They want to do another surgery in a few days to fix the last part." Harry begins.

"I don't want you to push it back. I'll be fine. I've done tours before. I'm sure this will go smoothly. And maybe you'll be able to meet me for the last part of the tour?" I ask, and Harry nods his head.

"I'll do my best if I ever make it out of this hell hole."

"It isn't that bad," I glance over at him, and he raises a brow, disagreeing with me.

Harry cocks his head to the side, "Darling, if you weren't here, I'd be staring at the wall. But, unfortunately, all they have for entertainment are books."

"Well, you love to read."

"Not when I'm in pain and can barely see from my meds."

"Makes it even more fun," I joke, gently nudging him, "Do you want to go to the Palace? They might release you."

"Baby, they're not going to let me go until I have my last surgery. Then, according to them, I'm at flight risk of not coming back," Harry laughs, "And they're right, that's why I'm in this position because I didn't listen."

"You never listen," I respond, "Well, once your surgery is done, we can have you taken to the palace and have you cared for there."

"Can you be my nurse?"

I shake my head, "No, you have a smirk on your lips, which means one thing."

"Oh, come on," Harry whines, "I need a little TLC."

"You get enough TLC." I chuckle, shaking my head, "You're getting sleepy. Back inside, you go," I gesture inside, standing to my feet and holding his arm as he stands up as well.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #imagine harry styles #harry styles prompts #harry styles blurbs #harry styles writing #fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #Imagine harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles preferences #1d imagine

22 notes · View notes