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willyoulovemeinthemorning · 4 years

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The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 2/?

Story Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes? A/N: Thank you all for the amazing response to the first chapter! This one came quickly and I just couldn't stop writing it! I can’t believe people asked to be tagged in this already, but I guess if you want to be tagged, let me know in the comments! shoutout to @candlesandsoftrain for beta-ing! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader  Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: So much tension, mildly grumpy Spencer, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 7000+ (Sorry it really got away from me!)

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

The rest of the day passed by with a lot of questions, a lot of pilfered off paperwork from each member of the team- it was your turn to help out with all there was to do today. Newbie had to be inducted somehow. Reid was the only one that didn’t offer you any of his- it probably had something to do with the fact that even though his pile was significantly larger than anyone else’s, he was getting through it almost at triple the speed. Dad had mentioned something about his quick reading skills, but you couldn’t remember the exact number of words he could read a second. That was a question you could ask him later, you reminded yourself.

Once Hotch’s voice sounded through the room signaling that it was time to head out for everyone, you could feel the energy in the room change. It was palpable. They clearly hadn’t gotten a chance to have a fun time with each other in a while.

You stood up and gathered your things slowly, letting everyone slowly filter out of the office. You had decided that you wanted to keep Dad's notebook in your go bag so you’d always have him with you on cases, but now as you had a moment alone, you slipped an old family picture of Dad, Stephen and yourself into your desk drawer, hiding under your files and paperwork. A little piece to always be here, in the bullpen, where he belonged.

You wiped a tear from your eye, and as you grabbed your bag to get going, you noticed Spencer watching you from the door. You smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry, you didn’t have to wait for me. I just… wanted to take in the end of my first day. I’ve been waiting for this day a very long time. Didn’t think it would be quite this… uneventful, as far as BAU standards go, but I’m actually glad it was.” You said to him as you got closer, noticing him clutching his messenger bag.

Shrugging, he held the door open for you. “It’s not a problem. They get horse blinders when they finally get to go out together and forget that maybe some people don’t know where to go.” He pushed the button for the elevator. In this moment, you remembered what you’d said about comfortable silence. It was nice to be here with him, the hum of the AC around you, the sound of Spencer picking at something at the strap on his bag. You closed your eyes for a moment and took it all in… you could smell his cologne, he was so close to you. And something very reminiscent of… old books? He really must live in an apartment just surrounded by books.

“Thanks for waiting for me. I probably would have just called Unc-” You stopped yourself, hoping he didn’t notice. “Dave, if I got left behind. Since trying to go home would have resulted in being yelled at by him for a while.” You both entered the elevator, and he turned and looked at you as he pressed the button to go down to the ground floor.

“Dave?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

You blushed, shrugging. “I’ve known him for a long time. He’s a good family friend… through my mom. They knew each other when they were young.” God, you hated lying, but it was only a little bit of a lie. Your mom and Rossi DID know each other well, and they have known each other a long time. But Uncle Dave wasn’t a part of your circle because of your mom.

Spencer looked like he noticed the slight change in your tone, but he was polite enough not to press you for more. “Okay So the bar- it’s called The Greasy Pub and it’s on 7th. I’ll meet you there? I take the bus, so I’ll be a little later than everybody else.” He said, shifting his weight from side to side on his feet.

Your brows knit together, and you looked at him a little confused. “Why didn’t you hop in with someone else?”

The cutest blush stained his cheeks. “I have an eidetic memory, and I can remember what it felt like to be the new kid on this team like it happened yesterday. I hope to never let anyone feel the anxiety and fear of being left out like I did. I was also only 24 at the time, and was the youngest BAU member ever, so that didn’t help.”

More touched than you could lead on, you touched his bicep and squeezed it. “Thank you, that’s incredibly kind of you. I feel bad though, you lost a ride with one of your friends. Would… would you like a ride in my car? I’d hate for you to have to take the bus. I hated the bus when I had to take it. Did you know that out of all the bacteria found on New York City public transport, 32 per cent was associated with the gastrointestinal tract and 30 per cent was skin. Another 20 per cent was associated with the genital area.” You rattled off. Germs were a thing for you too, you just dealt with it and constantly washed your hands.

To say Spencer looked impressed would be an understatement, and the way his eye changed when you caught it… wow, you’d never felt a heat rage in your tummy like that look made you feel.

“It was actually 29 percent skin, mostly assumed to be hair follicles and from people scratching at anything itching them.” He said with a glint in his eye. You didn’t feel challenged, just… understood? And seen. “But yeah… I wouldn’t mind a ride, if you wouldn’t be opposed.”

You led him to where you parked once the elevator dinged, and you both got in and buckled up. Your favorite artist’s music immediately started playing, a lot of favorites from people who you’ve loved- you collected things that reminded you of those that were special to you.

You drove in comfortable silence, and though you both kept looking at eachother out of the corner of your eyes, neither of you said much. You’d never felt such automatic attraction to someone before. Could your view be skewed after so many years of stories and imagining him? Possibly. But the reality was so much better than your imagination ever could have put together.

When you arrived, Spencer led you both inside the bar, opening the door for you. It was immediately a sensory overload for you both, and you shifted a little closer to him subconsciously to quell your discomfort. His hand found its way to the small of your back, just the smallest touch, and you could have died right then and there. It was electric and somehow so soothing. You felt your breath even out, and your anxiety fall back like a distant memory. You looked up at him and smiled softly, finding he was already looking at you. Your eyes fell to his lips, which were the loveliest shade of pink and parted just a little, his tongue coming out to wet them as if they sensed the attention. You could have just leaned in a few inches… you just needed to get on your tip toes and you’d be right there…

“Pretty Boy! Y/N! We’re over here, little lovebirds!”

“Morgan, leave them alone!”

You snapped out of your reverie when you heard the voices of Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss, the latter hitting the former in the arm yet again today. Spencer didn’t seem to mind, clearly used to the antics of his friends, but you were more or less a little red over it all. You were letting this little crush you had on the genius get a little too obvious, and you definitely needed to pull it back a little before you made a fool of yourself.

The two of you walked to the booth the others sat at, Emily and JJ and Garcia on one side, Rossi and Morgan on the other. Morgan got out and grabbed a loose chair from a table, pulling it up and sitting in it, gesturing to the open two spots for you two to take.

Sliding in next to Rossi, he gave you a look that you pointedly tried to ignore. “You all seem to have drinks already. Couldn’t wait for us?” You teased.

“Not when the lovebirds took so long!” Derek responded, making you roll your eyes. “What can I get for you two, pretty boy and girl?” He added, offering himself up for waiter service.

“Can… can I get a glass of moscato? I’ve always been a sweet wine kinda girl. It’s gentle and actually enjoyable, unlike most alcohol.” You requested, making Emily snort.

“Ohhh, a few weeks working with me and I’ll break you of that mindset. Alcohol is amazing. All of it. We’re going to do so many shots, you’re not going to be a lightweight for long! Derek, she would like a margarita… and for little miss “sweet tooth”, have the bartender add a little grenadine?”

You snickered. “Funnily enough, you just hit the nail on the head! Whenever anyone tries to make me drink drink, that’s almost exactly what I order. I usually just go light on the tequila.”

“DEREK! MAKE IT A DOUBLE!” That made the whole of the group laugh out loud, including yourself. You knew you were in for quite a night.

“What about you, Boy Sweet Tooth?” Derek prodded, poking Reid in the side of the face. He, in turn, swatted at Derek’s hand.

“I’ll take a Shirley Temple, thanks.” He said, ignoring the giggling from around him.

“Y/N, do you also take 5 pounds of sugar in your coffee like Spence over here?” JJ piped up. You caught on to the Spence and filed that away to ask someone about later. You… weren’t a fan of how lovingly she was looking at him, but couldn't decipher if it was sisterly affection or… well, the way you looked at him. You could swear you felt Emily looking at you like she could read your mind, and you decided that when the time came to ask some questions, you’d ask her.

“I actually am not the biggest fan of coffee. I drink a lot of energy drinks though.” You responded, earning a laugh from the team.

“That’s even worse!” Garcia said. “That’s even more sugar than Reid!”

Spencer nodded from your side, the movement making you suddenly very aware of how close the two of you were sitting. “Monster energy contains 28 grams of sugar per 8.4-ounce.” He said. “Which is much more than my cup of coffee, thank you all very much.” He smirked, looking down at you. He also seemed to suddenly realize how close you were sitting, then. He looked down at your thighs pressed together under the table and almost maybe tensed up a little bit? But then he noticed you smiling at him, biting your lip, and he relaxed, just in time for Derek to come back with the drinks.

“One sugary mess for Y/N and one for Pretty Boy.” Gladly accepting your drink, hoping it would calm down your rapidly increasing heart rate, you took a big gulp of it.

“So, Y/N,” Garcia started, “What brings you to the BAU? Did you have posters of Rossi and Gideon as a kid when they started it?”

You forced out a laugh, the sudden vocalization of your father’s name making tears prick your eyes, but Rossi was quick to distract them for you. “Are you kidding? Y/N’s taste is way too good for this old bag of fleas. Besides, she wasn’t born for another 15 years or so, right, Y/N?”

Nodding, his joke had given you enough time to pull yourself together. “Rossi has been a good friend of my family for a long time, and I was always interested in what he did. I looked up to him like he was a superhero, and when the time came to decide on what I wanted to do for a living, I guess I wanted to be the superhero I always grew up around.” You smiled at him, earning a proud grin back.

“How long have you two known each other?” Emily pressed, interested.

“Long enough. He… went to school with my mom, I think? At least, they were friends for a long time before I was born, and he’s just… always been around. Not many kids grow up with THE David Rossi sitting in their living room and telling real ghost stories on babysitting nights.”

Morgan perked up. “How old are you anyways?” He said it in such a way, you almost felt like you were being hit on. You were pretty sure it was just the way he was, because no one even batted an eye at his tone except for Garcia, who smacked him playfully from her seat beside him at the end of the booth, to which he wrapped his arm around her lovingly.

“27. Older than I look, I know. Everyone always thinks I’m a complete baby, but I’m a little more worldly than that. As to your question earlier Garcia, I’ve always wanted to be a profiler. To me, you guys have capes and costumes and fight the bad guys. I… wanted to do that too. And I was always told I have the gut for it- I’m highly empathetic, and I read a lot so I can understand what’s going on in other people’s brains to better get how the thought process of humans works. I worked really hard and never let anyone know that-” you took a breath, Rossi looking at you, “-that I knew Rossi. I wanted to make it of my own merit. I wouldn’t even tell Rossi or Hotch that I was planning on the Academy until I was well on my way to graduating. I didn’t want anyone’s influence in how I did or how far I got. You should have seen the look on my friends faces when they saw his name on the graduation speech list. And the looks they gave me when he pulled me in for a hug upon handing me my diploma? Might have been my favorite part of graduation!” You laughed, enjoying the memory, even if it was tainted with a lot of bittersweet feelings.

The night went by, and it was a lot more fun than you thought it was going to be. Your nerves dissolved with every sip of liquor you consumed, and by your third drink, the whole thing almost didn’t seem surreal anymore. You were actually here, a member of the BAU, out to drinks with Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid. Your father talked about these people, you knew these people better than most first day members…

“Never have I ever!” Emily yelled, making you and Spencer shake your heads. “Awwwww come on, I wanna get to know the new girl on a deeper level! A dirtier level! Pleaaaaase Y/N?” Okay, so yeah, Spencer was definitely your new work crush, but Emily was trying very hard to be a close second. That little pout she was doing was so cute, and the drunk lilt to her voice was adorable.

“I… I don’t know.” You said, your anxiety fighting to take center stage, despite how comfortable the tequila was making you. “S-Sure.” You didn’t want to be the negative nancy of the night that ruined everyone's fun. You didn't notice you had started picking at your nails until you felt a soft touch, Spencer's warm hand ghosting over yours, and as you caught his eye, you knew he was in the same boat you were… especially when Derek's voice broke the moment. It was almost like Spencer was psychic in that moment. His eyes predicted it.

“What about you, Pretty Boy? You never play with us.” He teased, pinching his face, and then looking at you. “Baby Genius doesn’t like to play with us because he’s afraid of us finding out how few things he’s done.”

“I’m not a baby. I’m 35 years old!” Spencer whined, a little like a petulant child. “And I am not afraid. I just think this game is dumb and just a means to find out dirty things about your coworkers personal lives, which is a very weird thing to want to know about if you ask me!” He defended, and you had to agree, though you didn’t do so out loud.

“Never have I ever…” Emily started, and then paused and laughed. “I’m so bad at these, I can never think of things I haven’t done!” She took a sip of her drink and when it seemed like she was never going to come up with something, JJ finally pitched one in.

“Never have I ever been in a threesome.” Emily groaned. “What? It’s not my fault that you’re a horndog! I’m a one man kinda lady.” JJ smirked and shrugged. Emily rolled her eyes and put a finger down, taking another sip of her drink. Derek, Garcia and Rossi all joined her, making you almost gag.

“Guys I already hate this, I did NOT need to know that about Rossi!” You say, taking a huge gulp of your drink, hoping tequila would wash away that moment from your memory forever.

Derek kicked your foot under the table lightly. “Don't worry, Pretty Lady. Just think about me in a threesome and your mind will be put at ease from the pain of thinking about Rossi. It’s a much prettier picture, I promise you that.”

You blushed, because yes, that was a much prettier picture. “Okay, that’s fair, I accept that.” You heard and felt some shuffling next to you, and saw out of the corner of your eye Reid looking uncomfortable. And… sad? No, why would he look sad?

Rossi went next, on your right. “Never have I ever been intimate with a man.”

You rolled your eyes. That was an easy one, of course he’d go with that. To your surprise, everyone at the table besides Rossi put a finger down and took a sip, including you. You almost spit yours out when you saw Reids finger go down, but no one else seemed to notice. Maybe… had you been wrong about his flirting with you? His proximity and his touches… maybe… maybe he was…

“NO WAY. DEREK, REALLY?” Garcia suddenly shrieked. Derek laughed and shrugged. “A man has needs, and when a woman demands something special, well, you make it happen. Besides, I’m not above admitting that there are some attractive men out there. Derek has an open mind.” He smirked and took another sip.

All four women at the table stared at him in awe. “God, that’s hot.” Emily said out loud, voicing the thoughts of everyone looking at Derek.

“Exactly the reason Derek has an open mind, beautiful ladies. I know what women want.” He said, looking like the cat who got the cream.

Now it was your turn, and you… you had to know. “Never have I ever been with a woman intimately.”

Everyone at the table laughed and put a finger down, and you watched as Reid did too. The relieved breath that came out of you after that should have embarrassed you, but it didn’t until he looked at you, concerned that something was wrong. You just smiled and hid how absolutely thrilled you were that he might still like you some kind of way.

Emily looked properly offended. “Oh, we need to change that. I don’t think anyone should miss out on the experience of a beautiful woman.”

“Oooh, Prentiss, are you offering?” Derek joked, laughing. “I’d watch that.” He eyed you both, making clear implications.

You were about to make a comment back, but before you could Spencer beat you to it. “Shut up, Derek.” Everyone froze, looking at Reid in shock. “Just because Garcia is okay with your sexual harassment, doesn’t mean you should be treating a new teammember that way. That’s not the way you should talk to people you barely know. She’s a human being.”

The whole team was unmoving. You turned and looked at them both, and you reached under the table and put your hand on Reids. He was shaking. “I actually… I would be open to being with a woman, I’ve just never had an opportunity. I’m… I’m not against any kind of experience. Try anything twice, in my opinion. Never know if the first time sucked because of the partner or if you actually just don’t like it.”

Everyone moved their shocked looks over at you now, before JJ piped in. “Y/N is full of surprises apparently. A little bi-curious, huh? Emily is going to take turning you from innocent lightweight to experienced day drinker as a personal challenge now.”

The rest of the group tried to shake off Reid’s outburst, but it definitely still hung in the air. You tried to pretend like you didn’t notice his heartbeat speeding up in your hands when you mentioned being interested in women. Men were so typical. Even smart ones, clearly.

“Your turn.” You squeezed his hand before taking it away a moment later. You were still scared of over doing it. You barely knew each other, no matter how you felt like you’d known each other for years… he’d just met you. Yes, he was… weirdly okay with your touch, but you were really trying not to get too excited about that.

“Never have I ever…” He thought, taking a moment to think about it. Derek looked like he wanted to make some kind of comment, but also looked like he was thinking better of it. “Never have I ever been in love.” He said, eyes down on his drink. Everyone drank and put a finger down… except for the two of you. You could feel him looking at your hands, how your fingers hadn’t changed, and you almost wanted to scream but today is making me think that love at first sight is real and not just in Disney movies. But you kept it in, because you’re sure if you said it, you’d end up trying to kiss him and that was not appropriate.

The private moment between the two of you was broken then, Derek moving right along with the game. “Never have I ever had a thing for someone more than 5 years older than me.”

You wished you had something to throw at him. Every one of you put your fingers down, except the two boys at the end of the bar. Rossi snickered as he sipped his drink. “You’re missing out, son. Older women are incredible. Mature. Worldly.”

“And older men?” Prentiss added, to which the girls on either side of her made agreeing noises. “Well, let’s just say there’s a reason there’s such a thing as a daddy kink.”

You chuckled and sipped your drink before adding in, “Or a professor kink.” Everyone made noises of approval at that.

“Y/N is kinky! You had a thing for your professors in college?” Garcia laughed, and it was such an infectious sound, you couldn’t even try to be embarrassed, you just wanted to join her laughter.

“Not really, but I’ve always liked the idea of it.” You blamed the tequila for making your mouth move right now. “But I’ve always loved the idea of an older man in a little nerdy professor outfit who seems so uptight and so innocent keeping me late after class and teaching me a lesson, I guess.”

“Okay, I think we’re even now, kid. You know things about me you never wanted to know… and now I know things about you that I could have gone my whole life not knowing, thank you very much.” Rossi had quite the look on his face, and it made you giggle. You were so distracted by him, you didn’t notice Spencer’s demeanor change.

“Reid? What’s the matter?” JJ asked, concern lacing her voice. You turned and saw what she saw, a dark look having fallen over his usually soft features. You were reaching your hand out to touch his hand when he stood up rather abruptly.

“I’ll be right back.” He wasted no time running to where you could only assume was the bathroom.

“What crawled up his butt?” Garcia asked, laughing and leaning on Derek. “Oooh! It’s my turn! We’ll just catch him up when he gets back. Never have I ever sent anyone a nude!” She said, making everyone at the table groan except for you. After they all took a sip, they looked at you like you’d somehow betrayed them by not being guilty of the same thing.

“Oh come on, really, Garcia and Y/N? It’s the 21st century! You’re telling me you’ve never had someone far away that you’ve wanted to get all hot and bothered?” JJ said, starting to slur just a little. “Come on. With our jobs? I’m a married woman who never gets to see my hot husband… technology of today is an amazing help for that.”

You shrugged. “I’m not against it or anything. I’ve just… never had anyone who I wanted to send something like that to. Besides, I was raised to fear the idea of anyone getting any of my info online, so I’ve always been more on the careful side when it comes to that.” Your mom and dad had always been very- open, to say the least, about the dangers of predators online. So you’d never really gone through that rebellious teen phase, knowing what could actually happen if you did.

Garcia nodded. “Guys, I’m a tech genius, and I am… well, a little famous online because of my hacking skills. I’m not giving anyone access to this gorgeousness unless they are right in front of me.”

“Y/N, you’ve never had anyone you’d send a teasing picture to or something? Just to get them going and play that really hot game of ‘back and forth’ with?” Emily asked, gesturing to her empty drink, pouting at Derek, who relented and got up to get new drinks for everyone.

“No… I’ve been so focused on school and my career, and no one ever stood out like that for me before.” Spencer reappeared like magic, suddenly by your side again, sadly further away than before. You missed his warmth already, but tried to shake the thought out of your mind. You’d literally just met this guy this morning.

“Welcome back Genius boy, we’re talking about nudes! Have you ever sent nudes to a special someone?” Garcia prodded, her alcohol drowning brain not understanding the idea that maybe he wasn’t interested in playing anymore.

“N-No. I haven’t.” He said, playing with his hands on his lap. You wanted to reach out and take his hand, lace your fingers together and let him play with your fingers instead of his own.

“Me neither! Neither has Y/N- we’re all such good kids. The rest of you are all naughty and strangers have absolutely seen your junk!”

Emily smiled at you and looked over at Spencer, tilting her head in curiosity. “Is it your hatred towards technology or are you just shy?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a bit of both. I’ve… never had someone I had a desire to, well, send pictures of myself to. There’s a large level of trust that goes into that. Trust that it’ll remain private, trust that they would l-like what they see…” His eyes fell to his lap and you could have cried for how unsure he looked of himself.

Derek returned with drinks, one for you too even though you hadn’t finished yours yet. “Aww, Pretty Boy, anyone who would be lucky enough to get one of your nudes better consider themselves lucky. I don’t call you pretty boy for nothin’.” He mussed Reid’s hair again, but this time, Spencer didn’t seem to mind. Some of his tension slipped away, and you felt yourself relax too. You gulped down the rest of your drink so you could start in on the new one, the world starting to get a little topsy turvy. How many drinks had they put in front of you so far?

It was Emily’s turn, but she couldn’t for the life of her come up with something she hadn’t done, so she demanded the game end and they moved on to just bothering each other with questions. An hour passed by faster than you realized, and by the time you’d finished the drink Derek had put in front of you, you were more than a little sloppy. You were putting most of your weight on Spencer, your head feeling like it weighed 100 pounds as it drooped onto his shoulder. His mood seemed to improve over the time since he went to the bathroom, and he’d been shifting closer to you as you’d been doing to him. You were thigh to thigh again, and your arms were pressed together from shoulder to wrist. You drunkenly stared at your hands, laying side by side on each of your thighs, trying to use some kind of dormant magic inside of you to pull his hand to yours.

“I think Y/N’s had enough, tonight, guys.” Rossi’s voice filled your ears. You were too busy trying to focus on the scent of Spencer to care to listen. The bar was overwhelming your senses again, and you were trying to ground yourself in Spencer’s familiar warmth and smell. “We should probably get going before someone ends up in someone else’s lap.” He added, making the rest of your (very drunk) team laugh. “Who’s in my car and who else can drive?”

“I drove here but I don’t think I should drive.” You piped up, pulling your keys from your purse and putting them on the table.

“I-I’ll drive Y/N home.” Spencer said quickly, trying to ignore the hooting from the rest of the team at the offer.

“I’m going with them!” Emily and JJ yelled at the same time. Garcia and Derek’s mouths hanging open as they seemed to be about to say the same thing.

The latter two mumbled under their breath, damning Emily and JJ for “stealing the seats to the show” and both agreed to go with Rossi.

Reid helped you out of the booth, arm wrapping securely around your waist to keep you standing up. You tried to pull away, embarrassed that you needed so much help, but he just held you closer. “Don’t worry, Y/N.” His breath ghosted over your ear and made you shiver. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

“I already have…” You said quietly, your drunk brain not knowing you’d whispered out loud. You focused on his smell and his touch, the way the warmth from his side and his hands set your skin on fire. Your embarrassment was a thing for future Y/N to worry about, because present Y/N was enthralled with the man helping you to the car.

After saying goodnight to the other three, JJ and Emily poured themselves into the back of your car, Spencer helping you into the passenger seat. He got into the drivers seat and chuckled as he watched you fight with the seat belt. “Let me help you, please.” He said, still laughing lightly, and you pouted, but relented. His hands brushed yours as they took the buckle, and he brushed your hip as he locked you in place. Every time he touched you, you could swear you felt shocks of electricity go through you.

“Speeeeeence, can you help me buckle in too?” You heard JJ call from the back in a sing song voice.

“Me too, Spenceyyyyy! Strap me in! Or down!” Emily added from beside her, making them break down in a fit of giggles. You wanted to pitch in that you would also be up for Spencer tying you down, but as the car lurched forward, your stomach followed suit and suddenly you lost the ability to talk. You were just focusing on not vomiting in your car and ruining all chances of Spencer ever seeing you as attractive ever again.

He was laughing at the ridiculousness of his friends as he started driving, but seemed to take immediate notice of something being wrong with you. “Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked, and the concern in his voice made you feel very guilty for putting it there. He seemed to reach out for you, but had apparently decided against it, putting his hand on the gear shift instead. He had such nice hands.

“Y-Yeah. I’m just a little dizzy, I’m fine, don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.” You smiled at him, watching him driving soothing your aching stomach. You felt like you were in an ocean, the waves crashing around you and making you sea sick. Spencer felt like a buoy for you to clutch onto so you wouldn’t drown. “C-Can I-” You reached for his hand, pulling it to your lap and playing with his fingers nervously, trying to focus on the way they felt rather than focus on the spinning in your head or the flipping of your stomach.

Spencer’s hand relaxed in your grip, allowing you the simple moment that, unfortunately, did not escape the two drunk ladies in the back. “Are you two gonna get married?” Emily asked.

“Awwww I’d finally get to be a godmother! I made everyone godparents and no one’s made me a fairy godmother yet! I wanna go godmother shopping with Pen so bad!” JJ added, bouncing next to her co-conspirator. You blushed and tried to let go of his hand, but he reacted immediately and took your hand back into his so you could keep playing with it. The fact that he was at least okay with whatever you felt about him and how you were acting on it made you feel light as air. He could just be allowing it while you were drunk because he felt sorry for you… but you held onto hope anyway. Even with your knowledge of his love of chess, you didn’t think he seemed like the kind of guy to play games.

“No, I want to be the godmother!” Emily whined.

“I’m Spencer’s best friend!” JJ countered, pushing Emily on the shoulder.

“I’m going to be Y/N’s best friend, just you wait! Y/N, wanna have a sleepover?” Emily asked, tapping you on your shoulder incessantly.

“Sure, Em.” You smiled to yourself. You liked the fact that she wanted to be your friend, but you hoped it was for more than possibly being a godmother to a child that could possibly not even exist.

“Yay!” She exclaimed, sticking her tongue out at JJ. “Oh shush. When they get married I’ll be Y/N’s maid of honor and you can be Spencey’s best man!”

Your heartbeat a little harder at the thought, and you chanced a glance at Spencer to see what he thought of their shenanigans. He seemed amused as he focused on the road, trying to pretend like he wasn’t paying them any mind.

JJ perked up and stopped pouting, ruffling Spencer’s hair from the back seat. “Awwwwww can I be your best man, Spence? I’ll wear a suit and everything! Derek would be soooooo mad! Imagine his face!”

Spencer laughed at that, the image somehow amusing to him. “We’ll see. Maybe let me decide if and when I want to get married first before you start planning my wedding?”

Oh. You deflated at that. He’d seemed so okay with all the teasing, you hoped... He pulled up to a house then, and considering JJ started to gather her things, you assumed this was her house. A man came to the porch and waved. You tried to focus on that, and let go of Reid’s hands in favor of forcing yourself to join the conversation. “Damn! JJ is that your husband?”

She giggled. “Yeah, that’s my Will!”

Emily sighed, leaning her head on the window. “Isn’t it a damn shame? She took the last eligible bachelor in the whole world? AND he’s a southern gentleman! JJ sucks.” You both laughed at her, JJ especially.

“Love you too. Have fun with Y/N while I have fun with my hot southern gentleman husband!” She called out as she got out, closing the door behind her. She ran up to Will and wrapped herself around him. They were a beautiful couple, and seemed so at ease with one another. You hoped you got to know what that felt like one day.

Emily seemed to start to drift off then, and you turned to look at Spencer again, who was staring at you. You blushed, unsure of why his gaze was so intense. “I uh… you know that coffee shop on Trumbull street? I live right over there.” You offered, hoping to go back to how happy and at ease he seemed to be before.

He nodded, clearly knowing where he was going with the directions you gave him. You drove in tense mostly silence for a while, Emily’s snoring the only sound besides the sounds of the road. “D-Did… did I do something wrong?” You asked suddenly, your voice quiet and unsure.

His shoulders fell from their tense position. “No, I just… I think I’m just tired. We had a hard case this week and going out drinking isn’t usually how I decompress.”

“How do you usually decompress?”

“I spend most of my free time at home reading. I read 20,000 words per minute and it soothes me. Morgan wasn’t completely dramatizing my apartment. It’s covered in books. They’re everywhere but the fridge and freezer.”

You laughed at that, starting to sober up a little bit. The world wasn’t quite so upside down anymore. “Me too, except most of my library is back at my moms house. We have a room dedicated to books… we’re a big reading family. Especially my dad.” You offered.

“My love of reading came from my mom. She read to me when I was little.”

“The best way is to have a book read to you! My dad used to read to me, too. I loved listening to him say big words I didn’t understand yet.” You smiled at the memory, closing your eyes and remembering, wishing it didn’t seem so far away and cloudy.

Spencer smiled. “My mom says that too. I can still close my eyes and remember every story she ever read to me.”

“I would kill for your memory.” You admitted sadly. “To be able to remember everything with such detail… it’s a gift I wish I had.”

“A gift.” He paused, looking sad. “A curse too, though. It’s not fun to remember every detail of the bad things.” He said, and you longed to know what those bad things were. Maybe one day you would.

You smiled, one that dripped in bittersweet, looking out the window. “‘The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things… The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.’”

You looked back at him in time to see his surprised expression as he turned and looked at you before he had to look back at the road. “Doctor Who. Matt Smith, Vincent and the Doctor. Series 5, episode 10. Air date June 5th 2010.”

“Impressive!” Truly, you were impressed. Even knowing he remembered everything, you were sure it would never surprise you. “It’s one of my favorite episodes, actually. I have a lot of favorites, but that one never gets old.”

“Who’s your favorite Doctor?” He asked you, and you realized that you were getting close to your apartment. You wished the night didn’t have to end.

“I don’t think I could pick, honestly. They all have their merits, and they all definitely have their flaws… I loved David, just like every other girl in the world, but Matt’s chaotic energy was so fun. And Capaldi was just so… captivating. He’s an amazing actor. His work in Heaven Sent was… indescribable. That’s another one of my favorites. You can take a right up here, and then I’m in the big apartment building on the left.” You watched his arms as he turned the steering wheel, captivated by how strong they seemed underneath the button up and sweater vest.

“Thanks for driving us… you’re welcome to take my car home- it’s late, and I don’t want you to have to find a bus or train at this time.” You said, not making a move to get up. You’d only spent a day with him, and you already never wanted to be away from him.

He pulled up to the building and put the car in park before turning to look at you. “How will you get to work tomorrow?”

You hadn’t thought about that. You bit your lip and blushed all the way to your neck. “I… I can see if Emily can text JJ and have her pick us up?”

“Or I could come and pick you two up?” He offered. You nodded slowly.

“I… don’t want to inconvenience you. It’s not fair to inconvenience your new teammate.”

“It’s not an inconvenience. By letting me take your car, I don’t have to take the bus tomorrow… That’s actually pretty nice. And I’ll get to see you again… you know, so we can talk more Doctor Who.” He looked like he was blushing, but you couldn’t be sure in the dark of the car.

“O-Okay… It would be nice to see you tomorrow. Though I will probably be very embarrassed about tonight. I don’t usually do things like this. Get drunk and act like a fool.” You gestured at nothing, pointing between the two of you, indicating you were talking about how all over him you were all day.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The rest of the team was much more ridiculous than you were. Everyone acts different when under the influence of alcohol; Morgan gets even more forward and flirty, Garcia gets abrasive and asks invasive questions, Emily gets loud, JJ gets a little whiny and is what I’ve heard referred to as a ‘woo girl’? Rossi… Rossi doesn’t really act very different from himself sober, but I can guess that that comes with age. You… well, you were… a pretty adorable drunk, actually.” He said, almost too quiet. You almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t.

Emily stirred behind you before you could respond. “Mmm, arewethereyet?” She yawned, making stretching sounds.

“Yeah, we are, Em. We just got here.” You sighed. “Thank you, Reid. For driving us home, for standing up for me earlier… you’ve been very kind and patient with my drunkenness tonight and I appreciate it. I hope I can make up for today and show you that I’m an okay person when Emily isn’t forcing tequila down my throat.”

“I already think you’re pretty cool, so there’s nothing to make up for. I’ll-” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he looked back at Emily and then at you. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow bright and early. I’ll call you when I get here, okay Em?”

“Mm’Kay Spencer.” She replied sleepily, opening her door, making you feel the need to open yours too. The night was over much too fast in your opinion.

“Thanks again, Reid, have a good night.” You were about to shut the door when you heard his voice again, causing you to turn around.

“Y/N?” He leaned forward, his head tilted and hair falling to the side, messy and so attractive- you wanted to reach forward and run your fingers through it and know if it felt as soft as it looked.

“Yeah?” You bent down a little to meet his gaze.

His eyes were large and brown, the lights from the street lamps making them sparkle. “Please call me Spencer. All my friends call me Spencer.”

You could have danced, that had made you so happy. “O-Okay. Goodnight, Spencer. Thank you for everything.”

He smiled at you then, the biggest one you’d had the pleasure to see on his face so far in the 12 hours you’d known him. You hoped to see a million more of those in the future. “Goodnight, Y/N. Good luck with that drunk mess over there. See you tomorrow.” You and Emily headed up to your apartment building, and when you turned around from inside, he was still there, looking at you with a smile on his face.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@rexorangecouny @asomers603

#Spencer reid #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #Spencer Reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #Spencer Reid imagine #dr spencer reid #Spencer Reid self insert #fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds self insert #Spencer Reid insert #criminal minds imagine #jason gideon

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greatatmakingmemes · 3 years

Text

Wooden Overcoats: The Sunshine Treatment

RP sentence starters from Season 3, Episode 7, “The Sunshine Treatment” from “Wooden Overcoats”. Feel free to change pronouns, etc. to better suit your muse(s)! TW for death, alcoholism, grief

“The business of death can be slightly depressing.”

“Despair doesn’t seem to affect [Name].”

“To your good health, [Name], and I mean that.”

“I’ve been subsisting on some muesli in my top pocket for the last fortnight.”

“My body starts to atrophy if I keep still for too long.”

“I have to keep moving or I may well die… or worse.”

“Now there’s a temptation that’s waiting to happen…”

“People need to talk about it, I understand that…”

“I could get the best comfy chairs money can buy!”

“I’d call them clients.”

“I won the annual Mister Sunshine Pageant!”

“It’s actually called the city of smiles.”

“It’s rather more involved than making people feel happy.”

“The human psyche is an incredibly collection of impulses and needs.”

“Turn that frown upside down!”

“The wasabi peas were so spicy it felt like I’d gone to another dimension.”

“Don’t look at me like that. We’ve all been there.”

“I know I dropped the coffin.”

“You made his eyes pop out!”

“We broke a stained glass window!”

“We put lives at risk!”

“I think sticking the eyes back in with your chewing gum was the lowest point.”

“What are you going to do? Have us arrested?”

“Damn, that is a crafty idea!”

“A funeral isn’t just for the day; it’s for life!”

“Don’t you need qualifications from, like, Oprah?”

“Anyone can give advice, [Name]. You’re hardly unique there!”

“In fact, we were already about to do that ourselves.”

“You need a haircut.”

“Charging by the platitude, are you?”

“Anything he can do, I can do.”

“That’s the power of positive thinking!”

“Here she is: the little party animal!”

“Let’s get you home and rehydrated.”

“I just thought you were crying!”

“Knowing is half the battle.”

“If she wanted me to be happy, why did she stick her hand into that bloody beehive?”

“I find that having the facts helps one confront the issues.”

“I’ve been trying to stay away from the bottle.”

“Nothing feels real.”

“Please stop punching my new chairs.”

“It’s okay to be alone sometimes, isn’t it?”

“I’d like a shirley temple!”

“It’s always darkest before the dawn!”

“He was a wonderful man and a brilliant baker.”

“Can I offer you a green vegetable smoothie?”

“I just wanted to give you a few small words of comfort in this difficult time.”

“We do take traveler’s checks.”

“I’ve done a good deed.”

“I’ve told you a million times not to lurk!”

“You’re terrible and I’m ashamed we ever shared a womb.”

“You’re inflicting pain and suffering onto those already in pain and suffering!”

“Do you remember when we were children and my hamster died?”

“It was dead when I found it!”

“You never listen!”

“Plenty more fish in the sea! Atta boy! Go get ‘em, tiger!”

“Finding comfort in an animal can be highly comforting in times of sad times.”

“I feel close to him when I can eat eclairs.”

“I went to Denmark!”

“You think the sun shines out of your backside, don’t you?”

“Just pull up your socks and get on with it!”

“That wasn’t a client, that was a postman!”

“If you help them in advance, they won’t need it later on!”

“This is monstrous.”

“Have you ever met a human being before?”

“Who knows what kind of tie-dye, wheat-free, sing-along nonsense he’s/she’s/they’re spouting over there?”

“Maybe you should prescribe a chill pill.”

“Have you been practicing your warm smile like I told you?”

“I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“It’s a warm, sunny day, isn’t it?”

“An active body keeps an active mind.”

“Everyone is sad. I’m not. But everyone else is sad.”

“I’m never fully dressed without a smile.”

“All you can actually do is help the people accept the facts for what they actually are.”

“Have an aspirin.”

“I’m not sure I want a religious wedding…”

“I did a Satanic service last week. It was rather uplifting.”

“If you’re feeling blue, try painting yourself mauve.”

“Don’t talk about my wife like that. She’s beautiful!”

“My puppies ran away this morning.”

“Get your massive hands off me!”

“Not the bees!!!”

“We work in a sad profession.”

“Nothing shines out of my backside except the moon!”

“I think I need to swing around this tree!”

“I’m so confused and sad and mad as hell!”

“I can say to you unequivocally as one man to another: pull your trousers up.”

“Though the war is over and you’ve conceded defeat, I’m a pillar of professionalism and will not allow any feelings of triumph to interfere with your treatment.”

“[Name]! Bring your camera! I want a picture of his/her/their face!”

“I failed.”

“What in Hades' name is going on in here?”

“Oh, this will be good.”

“You’re both terrible!”

“I think I had my moments.”

“Failure is like death: you can’t get away from it forever.”

“I fantasize about that sometimes.”

“Keep taking the tablets.”

“It’s far from being all over.”

“Do you mind if I take a nap?”

“Here, have a pen, so you can draw a funny mustache on him/her/them.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #wooden overcoats s3 ep7 #wooden overcoats

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swallowthewhale · 4 years

Note

A killervibe writing prompt: Cisco and Caitlin on a 2nd date?

It’s not Kamilla that Cisco meets at the bar and asks on a date. It takes 53 tries and a time loop to get their first date right. This is their second date.

Read on AO3

I've been searching and searching for you

Cisco can hardly believe that she agreed to go on a second date with him, after the disaster of their first date. Well, the 52 disasters of their first date followed by being extraordinarily late on the 53rd time loop. But she’s still there when he shows up to Jitters, breathless, reading on her tablet with a cup of coffee already on the table in front of her. She raises an eyebrow when he apologizes with a vague explanation of a work emergency, but smiles, sets aside her tablet and asks instead about the science he’d mentioned when they met. Cisco admits he's more of a tech nerd, and he’s hit a bit of a dead end with the bio side of the project. That’s when her eyes light up, she casually informs him that she has degrees in biochemistry and bioengineering, and Cisco falls completely in love.

So maybe it’s not actually too much of a surprise that Caitlin agrees to a second date.

They meet at the Museum of Science on a Saturday morning, Cisco’s phone set to do-not-disturb and a strongly worded text sent to the rest of Team Flash that he is only to be interrupted if the world is ending. Which, the likelihood of that is higher than it should be, since the world seems to be on the verge of ending every other Tuesday.

Caitlin’s there when he arrives, sitting on the ledge outside the building in a nice pair of jeans and a pretty blouse. He guides her in, waves them through the ticket line with his season pass, and waits gleefully for her to spot the reason he’d suggested the museum.

It’s worth the secrecy. Her eyes light up as she grabs his arm with both hands. “Cisco! The genome exhibit is this weekend!” She shakes him gently. “Did you know?”

He grins at her. “Hmmm, the genome exhibit?” he teases, starting to walk in that direction. “I thought you would like the touch tanks.”

She wrinkles her nose at him, but she’s smiling, and her hand stays tucked into his elbow, Caitlin’s quiet demeanor fading away into excitement as she narrates their way through the exhibit. Cisco mostly lets her talk, intercepting with questions to keep her going.

He loves hearing her talk, loves the glee of spotting some new information she hadn’t heard before, loves the breadth and depth of the intelligence hiding behind a bartender who makes a mean Shirley Temple.

They get lunch at the museum cafe, heads bent together as they discuss the various ways metahuman genomes might differ, the possibility of a metahuman genome project, and how the metahuman treatment could work.

When there’s finally a lull, Cisco casually asks, “So, Dr. Snow, how’d a genius with two Ph.D.s end up bartending?”

Her face pinches and she pokes at her salad. “I used to work at Tannhauser Industries.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Then the particle accelerator exploded.”

Cisco swallows hard, forcing himself to fold his hands in his lap.

“My fiancee died in the explosion, he was working at Star Labs, and I was there for the launch, too. I was… affected.” Their eyes meet. Caitlin’s flash blue and she reaches out to touch Cisco’s fork. It ices over. She looks away.

“You’re a meta,” Cisco says softly.

“I didn’t have very good control at first. I would wake up surrounded by snow in the morning, or the pipes would burst because all the water would freeze in the shower. When I went to my mom for help, her assistant tried to trap me, to study me. I lost control and… he had third-degree burns. I don’t think he’ll ever fully recover.”

Cisco reaches out slowly to cover her hand with his. “Caitlin.”

She looks up, startled.

“I get it.”

Caitlin smiles bitterly and tries to tug her hand away. “No-”

He holds it firmly. “I’m Vibe.”

Caitlin blinks at him. “You-”

“Yeah,” he smiles wryly at her. “I found out I was a meta when I started having visions of my death in an aborted timeline. I promise, I get it.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Aborted timeline?” She looks down at his hand on hers. The one that had just frozen his fork solid. “Okay, yeah. Well, I ran, went underground, left behind my job, my career, everything. I felt like I had lost my whole life in the explosion.” She exhales shakily. “I never thought I might have a chance to get that kind of life back.”

“What kind of life?”

Caitlin shrugs. “You know, a fulfilling job, a husband, a family.” She peers up at him shyly. “Maybe there’s more hope than I thought.”

Cisco beams at her. “Well, I think that calls for some celebration. Ice cream?”

Caitlin laughs. “Sounds perfect.”

#killervibe #killervibe fanfic #killervibe fanfiction #the flash fanfiction #cisco x caitlin #risa writes #anonymous #preguntame

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mamapriest · 4 years

Text

Behind The Scenes Secrets: The Wizard Of Oz

by Unfiltered Hooch PART II

TOTO MADE MORE MONEY THAN THE MUNCHKINS

Toto was a star performer played by Terry, a female Cairn terrier who appeared in an impressive 16 films. At the time The Wizard of Oz was being filmed, Terry had already starred in a film with Shirley Temple (1934’s Bright Eyes). It’s no wonder that this movie star of a dog got paid more than the munchkins – actual human actors.

Toto raked in $125 per week (equivalent to about $1,700 in 2017). The munchkins made between $50 and $100 a week, which is no small chunk of change for 1939, but hardly the movie star salary you’d imagine.

THE WICKED WITCH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TOTALLY DIFFERENT

Most of us know the Wicked Witch as a terrifying, hideous, bright green character – unless of course, you’re a fan of Wicked and see her more sympathetically. The Wicked Witch wasn’t always ugly and terrifying. She was originally going to be beautiful, sleek, and sexy. Of course, that doesn’t fit so well with the idea of evil witches being ugly, so producers changed the look to contrast more with the Good Witch.

Gale Sondergaard was not a fan of this new look. She was originally cast as the Wicked Witch, but when she saw the makeup, she bailed. Hamilton took the role instead.

THE WICKED WITCH WAS TOO SCARY, SO STUDIO EXECS CUT HER SCENES

Margaret Hamilton brilliantly played the Wicked Witch of the West – so brilliantly, the character now stars in her own Broadway musical, Wicked. Hamilton was undoubtedly terrifying, especially to the children watching what was supposed to be a meaningful but light-hearted story about family.

This concerned studio executives who feared that Hamilton’s utterly evil performance was a bit too scary for children. They ended up cutting down Hamilton’s screen time down to just a few bits – though, that didn’t make her character any less of an important presence in the movie.

MARGARET HAMILTON WAS BADLY INJURED ON SET

Not only did producers cut some of Margaret Hamilton’s scenes, but she was so badly injured on set that she had to be removed from the production for six entire weeks.

Hamilton’s injury occurred in the scene where the Wicked Witch of the West leaves Munchkinland in a puff of flames. She was meant to drop down safely into a trap door before the flames ever came out. The door malfunctioned and didn’t open fast enough, but the flames came out as they were supposed to. This left Hamilton’s hands and face with terrible burns that took weeks to heal.

JUDY GARLAND WAS DRUGGED TO GET THROUGH FILMING

In 2020, you’d probably be outraged and shocked to hear that child actors were being fed drugs to keep up with their often nerve-wracking and intense filming schedule; however, in the ’30s, this was common.

Judy Garland was given barbiturates and amphetamines to keep her skinny on set, and to keep her awake. This experience may have helped her during the filming process, but it left her an addict, which she could never shake. Filming The Wizard of Oz made Garland’s career, but it also ruined her life. She died from an overdose at age 47.

JUDY GARLAND WAS MOLESTED BY MUNCHKINS

According to Garland’s third husband, Sid Luft, the actress was repeatedly molested by the actors who played the munchkins. Luft revealed this information in his scandalous posthumous memoir Judy and I: My Life with Judy Garland. He claimed that they made her life “miserable on set by putting their hands under her dress.” All of the men were 40 or more years old, and Garland was just sixteen.

There were many rumors about the munchkins that sort of back up this claim, saying that the actors were absolutely out of control on set. Various reports claim they were involved with prostitution and gambling while filming.

THERE WERE TONS OF CHANGES FROM THE BOOK

Anytime you have a movie adapted from a novel, some things are guaranteed to change; however, most people didn’t expect The Wizard of Oz to change as dramatically as it did from the original text. In the book, Glinda is the Good Witch of the South, not the North. Oz is a real place, too. It’s not just a dream like it was in the film.

One of the most iconic details of The Wizard of Oz film is Dorothy’s red slippers. In the book, Dorothy had silver slippers, but studio head Louis B. Mayer wanted to swap the color for something brighter so he could test out MGM’s new Technicolor technology. Dorothy’s shirt was also a light pink, rather than white because white was hard to shoot in color.

THE SCARECROW, COWARDLY LION, AND TIN MAN ALWAYS ATE LUNCH ALONE

Poor Ray Bolger, Bert Lahr, and Jack Haley. All they wanted to do was play their roles without being exiled from the rest of the cast. Unfortunately, the 1930s were a lot different than they are now. They didn’t have intense slasher films and they didn’t have CGI that could make anything happen on film.

In the 1930s, costumes like the Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion and Tin Man were considered terrifying in real life. They were considered so frightening, that the whole gang was banned from MGM’s lunchroom and forced to eat alone in case they scared other MGM workers.

THE WIZARD OF OZ WAS INTENDED TO BE FEMINIST LITERATURE

In The Wizard of Oz film, Dorothy is pretty much a damsel in distress. She’s lost and completely in over her head in Oz, but that’s not the case in the actual book. Dorothy is a much stronger character, and Oz is a very real, credible place that she fits in.

Dorothy does the majority of the saving in the novel, not the other way around. She does not need to be rescued. L. Frank Baum admitted that he wanted Dorothy to come across as a strong role model for young female audiences.

*Sources: unfilteredhooch.net

MGM Studios/MGM Studios/Getty Images

💚💚💚

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onedayiwillflyfree · 5 years

Text

When the Sun Begins to Fall

Hello everyone, the first chapter of my first AWAE fic is now up on AO3! I am very excited to share it all with you(: special thanks @royalcordelia for being an absolute gem and editing it for me! Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255530/chapters/50608787

Chapter One

“...And that things are not so ill with you and me as they might h-have been, is half owing to the number who li-lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in un- unvisited tombs."

“Wonderful job Emily, much improved.” Anne Shirley rested her hand on the young girls shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. Emily smiled and handed the beloved Miss Shirley back her copy of Middlemarch before making her way back to her seat. Anne decided to do the same, feeling slightly drained after having a cold the last few days. She detested sitting during class, but occasionally she felt the need to make an exception.

Behind her desk, she folded her hands and stared at the twenty children sitting before her.

“Now class, I know you are all anxious to go about your weekend, but...” She paused for a moment to let out a chesty cough into her sleeve. “Excuse me. But I would like for all of you to practice your texts for at least an hour each day, and then write a small paragraph about what you have read to be turned in on Monday.”

Groans erupted from her students as she felt another cough rising in her throat. She understood their frustration, as she was ready to go home herself. Over the last couple of days, she had been finding it harder and harder to make herself rise from her bed in the morning. Every muscle in her body seemed to be working against her and the pains she had in her lungs have made enjoying the morning walks impossible. She coughed into her handkerchief, managing to clear her throat enough to talk, “Now now, I understand your frustrations, however, think of all the wonderful places you can travel within,” she coughed once more, this time harder. She could not seem to get the phlegm out of her throat and it was most aggravating.

After one additional cough, phlegm loosened and made its way up. She looked down and what she thought would be a ball of gunk, was actually a tiny red dot. For a moment, the dot gave her pause but she was soon brought back when a student cleared their throat. Shoving the rag in her apron, she smiled up at her students. “Ah, yes, sorry. I believe I am getting a cold. Class, you are free to go, enjoy the world around you.”

Without hesitation, everyone began bustling about the room, gathering their items and talking about their weekend plans. Anne observed for a moment before she turned on her heels, heading to her office. Shutting the door behind her, she pulled handkerchief out of her pocket and brushed her fingers against the dot. Blood?

“No,” she whispered, “perhaps it's something I ate.” Although she said it with surety, she wasn’t convinced. Ever since she was young she has had an overactive imagination and the places her mind were going right now were plenty. None of them were good either.

A knuckle tapped against the door causing Anne to jump and drop the rag. “Come in,” she yelled as she bent down to grab it. She must have stood up too quickly because instantly the room was spinning and she felt as if she could faint. Bracing herself against her desk as she tried to regain her composure, the door opened to reveal Minnie May Barry, who over the last few years, she had truly grown into a beautiful young lady. Her mouse brown hair fell in gentle ringlets and her doe brown eyes sparkled even on the darkest day, the only girl who could possibly be prettier than her in Avonlea would be Diana. When Anne was a girl, should would have given anything to look like either of the Barry girls.

“Anne?”

“Minnie May, I’m Miss Shirley during school,” Anne mumbled as she rubbed her forehead.The room was still dancing around her, causing her to use extra effort just to focus on standing upright. She felt that if she didn’t sit immediately, she would surely faint.

“Well schools not in session now, so you’re Anne,” Minnie May retorted. Normally Anne would scold her, telling her to stop acting smart with her but she couldn’t find the energy. She pulled out her desk chair and attempted to sit gracefully but somehow she missed the chair and landed on the floor with a plop. Minnie May raced towards her and grabbed her arm, attempting to pull her up. “Are you alright, Anne!?”

Embarrassed, Anne accepted her help and pulled herself up into the chair. “Oh yes, I am fine. Just a little dizzy is all. I must have accidently laced my corset to tightly this morning.” Minnie May did look assured so Anne plastered the best smile she could muster. “What did you need, dear?”

Minnie May hesitated for a brief moment before she spoke. “Diana is coming home tomorrow from Paris. Mama wanted me to ask if you were still bringing your famous apple pie.”

Anne silently cursed herself for feeling ill. Oh, why this weekend of all weekends? The one I am supposed to reunite with my bosom friend after she has been away for so long. Of all the unlucky things in my life, this is the worst so far. “Of course I will be there,” she managed utter before she went into a fit of rough, dry coughs. Somehow this fit felt worse than before, it made her head pound. She looked in her tea pot hoping she had a little left but was left feeling disappointed to find it empty. Minnie May, understanding what was needed, pulled a jar of milk out of her lunch pail, gesturing it towards her. Grateful, Anne took the jar and poured it into her cup. In between coughs, she sipped slowly as Minnie May looked on. It felt cool on her throat and her coughing began to cease.“Thank you.”

Minnie May nodded, concern crossing her face as she took the jar back from Anne. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Oh yes, just a cold. A good night of rest and I will be right as rain in the morning.” Anne smiled brightly taking her young friend’s hand within her own. “Now run along and let your mother know that of course I am bringing my pie, and I am anxiously awaiting tea time.” A smile danced on Minnie May’s lips as she turned and skipped out towards the front of the room, where she had a large group of friends awaiting her arrival. Anne looked on, letting her smile fall into a gaze of nostalgia. How she missed walking home with Diana after classes, seeing her bosom friend daily and recanting stories of adventure and wonder.

She turned towards her desk,momentarily forgetting the sharp pain in her temples and pulled out the half heart locket that she shared with Diana. The locket now shared the chain with a small silver key that looks as if it came straight from a fairy tale. Her hand reached to the top of her desk, where a locked drawer held her greatest treasures. Slowly she unlocked the drawer and began pulling out each item carefully. On top, lay Matthew’s “Most Unusual” ribbon from the county fair mere months before he passed. She held it close for a moment, thinking how proud he was of that radish and how they ate the entire vegetable over the course of the following week. She chuckled, she hasn’t been able to stomach radish ever since. A cough escaped her lips as she pulled out the blue ribbon Diana had worn almost everyday of their friendship. She had been bestowed it not long before Di had left for Paris, asking her to always keep it close. She decided she would bring it tomorrow for tea, to show she had indeed kept her promise.

Next she pulled her copy of Jane Eyre given to her by Aunt Josephine for her sixteenth birthday. Inside of that held the portrait that Cole had penned of her so many years ago, along with flowers she had pressed from various occasions. A carnation from Matthews funeral, a daisy from Mary’s garden, dandelions from the first flower crown Dellie had made for her, and a wildflower picked by Gilbert while they walked the White Way of Delight after receiving their scores from the Queen's entrance exam.

At the thought of the curly haired friend she had cared for so deeply, the pain in her chest worsened. She scolded herself. Push away those thoughts Anne, he is happy, you are happy. But she was lying to herself, as she had been everyday for the last two years. Even she, who had never had any issue with describing her feelings, struggled to find words to describe how much she missed her friend and academic rival.

Before she could stop herself, she reached into the back corner of the drawer, pulling out a pocket dictionary and a bundle of letters. She ran her fingers along the spine of the book, that had begun to tear on the edges due to constant use. “So you can beat me fair and square,” she whispered, opening up the cover out of habit. She never did get to truly beat him. The last time they competed was at the Queens entrance exams, which they both ended up in first place and became dual recipients of the prize money. It should have made her angry but when he came to Green Gables to tell her the news, they both hugged without any indication of malice.

A smile danced on her lips once more as she turned her eyes to the letters, all of them from one sender. She pulled out the top letter, which was clearly much older than the rest due to its dark yellow hue. The envelope was falling apart from the letter coming out so often although now she didn’t have to read it to know its contents. It had been memorized for years. Her smile widened when suddenly she felt something rising in her throat. One, two coughs escaped her lips before she sputtered out crimson liquid on the envelope. She dropped the envelope in horror, only now realizing it felt like someone was poking an ice pick into her skull.

Well that’s not good… Quickly she began putting her items back in their designated spot, when she turned her attention back to the envelope on the floor. Slowly, not wanting to make the room start spinning again, she bent down to pick it up and laid it gently on the desk, not wanting it to drip onto any of her other treasures. She pulled the key from the drawer and placed it gently around her neck, deciding it was finally time to attempt standing. It took longer than it would usually but eventually she was standing on her own two feet without support. She fastened her shawl around her shoulders, it was warm for a september afternoon but she felt slightly chilled.

Stepping out of her office, she locked the door behind her and made her way through the center aisle, using each desk as additional support, stopping for only a brief moment at the fourth one back. She would use the excuse that she needed to catch her breath but she always found herself drawn to the desk her old rival used to sit at. It sat empty every day, none of her students chose to sit at it, but she felt a more powerful force at work. Like they were saying that spot belonged to Gilbert and to him alone.

Another cough pulled her gaze from desk. She made her way to the door as another rose in her throat only this time it was joined by a metallic taste. A taste she had become used to all too quickly. She managed to pull her handkerchief out just as the blood rose in her throat. The spot was larger this time but not as much as she had brought up in her office, which she was grateful for. Shoving it back in her apron, she fished the schoolhouse key from the other pocket. Around her, images began to blur. She managed to get the key into the lock on the fourth attempt.

“Auntie!” A sweet voice called from behind her seconds before arms tackled her legs with a bear hug. Anne braced herself against the wall and began to see stars.

“Oh, hello Dellie!” she said as cheerfully as she could manage. The dizziness was worsening now but in truth, she was happy to see the little girl who had brought so much joy into her life over the last three years.

“Careful Dellie, you don’t want to knock Queen Anne over now, do ya?” Sebastion called from a little farther down the path, carrying a basket in one hand. He greeted her with a toothy grin and Dellie released her legs, opting to hold Anne’s hand in one of her own, and her father’s in the other. Anne looked down to see the the basket filled to the brim with gorgeous red apples.

“Oh, those must be the apples for the pie,” Anne smiled softly, unsure if she could manage more. She of all people loved conversation but today, she was willing the conversation to end soon. All she wanted at the moment was a cup of tea and one of Marilla’s quilts draped over her lap.

“Yes they are. Freshly picked today, especially for you, by Miss Delphine Lacroix,” As he said her name, he poked Dellie’s cheek, sending her into a fit of giggles. He joined in her laughter and poked her again. Anne wished she could join in their joy, but something was feeling very wrong at that moment. Her face suddenly felt flush and the world around her spun so quickly, she felt she was going to puke. “Sorry for bringing them here, but you know how much she loves seeing the school…” he stopped suddenly, his eyes finally reaching her face. His smile dropped instantly and looked at her with great concern. “Anne, are you alright?”

Before she knew what was happening, her knees gave way and she fell forward, ripping her hand away from Dellies.

“ANNE!” Bash caught her with ease, throwing the apples on the ground. Dellie stood stock still for the first time in her life.

“Bash,” Anne whispered, “I think I am in need of assistance getting ho-” she was interrupted by the worst coughing fit she had all day. Everything hurt, her lungs were on fire, her head felt like it was going to come off of her shoulders, and the world continued to spin.

“Auntie?” Dellie had begun to cry. Anne wish for nothing more to reach out and wrap Dellie up in her arms, tell her that she was okay but her body betrayed her. Her body felt like Atlas holding up the sky. She was tired. So incredibly tired. I just need to rest my eyes...just for a few moments... The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was Bash picking up Dellie, throwing her onto his back before he picked up Anne, and began running to Green Gables.

#anne with an e #anne with an e spoilers #gilbert blythe #anne shirley #anne and gilbert

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marcholasmoth · 5 years

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OSRR: 1864

today was an interesting day to say the least.

today was lisa's mom's birthday, and she loved going to casinos, so we went to mohegan sun today. (it's a casino in connecticut that i had never seen or been to before because i've only ever once seen a casino before and this was just like, ten million times the size.) anyway, there were five of us and we went to olive garden fur lunch on our way down, and then when we got there i was overwhelmed by lights and sounds and it made me wicked anxious and i wasn't doing too hot for a while. and i learned that joel was also overwhelmed by the lights and sounds, so holding his hand was something he would rather me not do, which i learned because i tried to hold onto his pinky and he was having none of it. (which is fine, really.) so i grabbed and held the hem of my sweater and that worked. sort of.

and anyway, i was apprehensive about spending anything, just because i couldn't really afford to spend much of anything, and it was nice to see joel having fun. once we got used to it a bit, of course, because it was such a change and an overwhelming experience to just walk into with no preparation whatsoever. casinos are wild, man.

about halfway through the afternoon we got shakes from johnny rockets in the poker room, which was quiet and didn't smell like cigarettes, and i was so grateful for food and silence. joel was cuddly, so he held me for a bit and i was v happy about that.

(the smoke was something else i thought was weird - people were smoking inside. isn't that illegal?? i thought it was. but as i walked past people and smelled it a lot, it kind of hit me that it was a bunch of bad things all at once: gambling, smoking, drinking while spending money, and stuff like that. not that drinking itself is inherently bad, but yknow. upbringing and all that. i'm not even sure if i want to drink. but i kinda do? at least to try something. but not today.)

we wandered around a bit as we tried to find the low buy-in blackjack tables, and he played a few hands of blackjack and it was nice to see him having fun.

we went to a bar in the middle of the floor for a bit while waiting and being happy to sit after walking all day. joel got a double shot of whiskey and i got a shirley temple because i'm five and joel is my actual favorite.

lisa needed to get krispy kremes for people, so we met up there. as the minutes progressed, joel's cheeks and nose started to get tinged pink because of the alcohol and it was so adorable. he's already cute as fuck but i'll be damned if his cheeks being pink isn't the cutest thing i've ever seen. he wasn't drunk - it was just one drink, (heavy handed, but still one) but he was feeling it a little. and on the way back he was extra funny and extra cute and cuddly and i just love it when joel's cuddly but this was great. and then yknow how sometimes someone calls you a nickname and it doesn't come up often but when it does it makes you melt? because in the car he said, "hello, my love" to me and i died a little because isbskshekxhkwhkabdjebx i love him so much. he's so soft and kind and good to me and i love him so so much.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #1000s #1800s #sunshine boy #hes my literal favorite

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savegraduation · 5 years

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Aaliyah Would Be Proud

I'm James Landau, known on the Internet as Savegraduation.

I am starting this blog, Aaliyah Would Be Proud, to discuss one of most important and flammable issues of our time: youth rights. There are civil rights (for African-Americans, Chinese-Americans, Japanese-Americans, Jewish-Americans, Arab-Americans, Native Americans, Mexican-Americans, Indian-Americans, Filipino-Americans, and others); there are women's rights; there are LGBT rights (for lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transgender people, and non-gender-binary people); there are workers’ rights (for union laborers); there are disability rights (for the physically challenged, the blind, the deaf, the mute, the obese, arthrogrypotics, epileptics, CPers, autistics, Aspies, Downies, people with bipolar, people with borderline, schizophrenics, Touretters, obsessive-compulsives, ADDers, PTSDers, etc.); and then there are youth rights. The youth rights movement seeks to abolish or lower the age of legal restrictions, as well as change informal societal attitudes, that look down on people below a certain age (often 18, 21, or 25) as inferior and undeserving of even basic human rights.

We youth-rightsers aim to lower the voting age to 16. To lower the drinking age back to 19 or 18. To lower the age of majority and age of emancipation to 16. To protect students’ rights at the mandatory institution known as school. To abolish age-discriminatory store policies (”no more than two high school students in at one time”). To extend the rights of medical consent to all people old enough to wish for or object to treatment, regardless of age. To stop punishing parents for their minor children’s crimes. To abolish the draft. To ease restrictions on younger workers, and stop employers from viewing young employees as a liability. To allow people under 16 to get a job without adults bellowing, “Child labor!” To guarantee to every American the right to practice the religion she or he wants to and express her/his mind without her/his parents having her/him arrested for “insubordination”.

Age-discriminatory laws run a wide spectrum of enormity. At one end are age restrictions of things, such as drinking alcohol, smoking weed, or gambling, that the majority of Americans today believe are morally wrong for youth to do. Then come other status crimes like teen curfew laws. Then come laws like the laws in America preventing under18s from voting (even though Brazil, Argentina, Ecuador, Nicaragua, Austria, the Crown Dependencies, Scotland, and Malta already allow 16-year-olds-to vote; see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voting_age#Chronology_of_lowering_the_voting_age_to_16 ). Then come the oversteps of strict parents and Skinneresque faculty at K-12 schools, trying to prevent boys from wearing earrings, or censor the school paper because the principal doesn't like the angle of a particular student-written story or editorial. At the far end are stories of teens being abducted from their homes and taken into gulag camps simply because they have parents who don't like their nonconformity. Teens having their most beloved possessions destroyed or thrown away by their parents. Teens having to drive over state lines into states that will vaccinate them, lest they die before their eighteenth or even nineteenth birthdays because their parents refuse to let them have a vaccine . . . and also the less lucky teens who died already because a state legislature decided a parent's wishes trump a teen's concerns. 16-year-olds who have been seeking emancipation for a long time and then get kicked out to house by their parents (to their initial delight), only for the parents to then lie and report their child as a runaway, and having the mendacious parents rather than the truthful teen believed because of pervasive ageist attitudes and stereotypes, vitiating the minor's eligibility for emancipation. Gay teens undergoing the atrocious conversion therapy. Parents who take their 12-year-old sons to get circumcised against their sons' wishes. (And judging by their "Being a minor is only temporary!" argument, ageists seem to believe the boy's foreskin will magically regenerate on his eighteenth birthday.) If, when you hear the phrase "youth rights violations", you think simply of "You have to be 21 to drink", think again.

The title of this blog came from the R&B singer Aaliyah, who was born at the beginning of the Millennial Generation in January of 1979 and succumbed in a plane crash in 2001. In 1994, at the age of 15, Aaliyah released an album titled Age Ain't Nothing but a Number. Aaliyah lived her life to the fullest, not kowtowing to ageist laws and attitudes, and it was a good thing she did, because her life lasted only 22 years. I like to believe that if Aaliyah were to read my blog today, she would be proud of me for making the case for youth rights.

The seed of this Tumblr blog was planted several months ago, when a member of the NYRA Youth Rights Discussion Facebook group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/NYRAyouthrights/ told us about the Tumblr blog he had started on the topic of adult privilege (as analogous to male privilege, White privilege, straight privilege, etc.). Even though this blogger was an adult himself, he was swamped upon posting his first entry from people who wrongly assumed he was a kid who was upset because his parents wouldn't buy him an iPhone.

It is common among Gen-Xers (born 1964-1978) to be unaware that it's normal for Millennials (born 1979-2004) -- even the ones in our twenties or thirties, or who turned 40 this year -- to take many pro-YR positions, such as suffrage for 16-year-olds or restrictions on parental authority. These ignorant people assume that anyone starting a blog about ageism and ephebophobia (the fear of youth) must be "some kid", and that their concerns must be about positive rights (entitlement), rather than pressing negative rights.

Underlying this ignorance is a big myth surrounding generations that states every generation follows the same lifecycle as the Baby Boomers (born 1943-1957) did: they are innocent as children, then turn into wild, pot-smoking, socially liberal teen-agers who argue fiercely for youth rights, then go on being young and idealistic until they have children of their own and settle down . . . to then become "responsible", socially conservative adults who considered their younger selves to be irresponsible and misguided, raise their own kids strictly, start claiming "marijuana is illegal for a reason", and oppose youth rights. Or so the narrative goes.

But not every generation in Anglo-American history has followed this lifecycle. Take the Silent Generation (born 1925-1942), for instance. They began as Shirley Temples and Alfalfas amid the Great Depression and World War II, then spent their teens being a low-crime generation, despite all the Blackboard Jungle concern about juvenile delinquency and gangs. They married young. During the Postwar Era of 1950′s America, some of their members were beatniks, or invented rock-and-roll, or crusaded for the Civil Rights movement (after all, Chuck Berry and Martin Luther King, Jr. were Silents), but more often they kept their heads down, being grey-flannel-suit fathers who focused on their careers instead of activism, or barefoot-and-pregnant mothers who focused on being the perfect housewife. William Manchester wrote of fifties-era high school and college students: "Never had American youth been so withdrawn, cautious, unimaginative, indifferent, unadventurous -- and silent." They were indulgent parents, however, raising the Baby Boomers to the tune of Dr. Spock. Then they hit 40, and had their "midlife crisis", realizing they had wasted their youth being so un-rebellious. They started riding motorcycles and growing ponytails in middle age, and during the Vietnam Era, they generally raised their Baby Boomer and Joneser (born 1958-1963) kids permissively. It was a Silent, 1932-born Ted Kennedy, who proposed amending the Voting Rights Act of 1965 to lower the voting age to from 21 to 18 at a national level, and argued in Oregon v. Mitchell that the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment meant Congress could pass voting-age-related legislation at a federal level.

The "all generations are the same" myth notwithstanding, there is another, competing big myth prevalent today. This myth states that today's youth are "the worst" ever. Older Americans often indulge in saying that the Millennial Generation is the worst generation ever . . . or at least was until the Fifth World Generation (born 2005-today) came along. Memes posted by Boomers and Xers on the Internet say that when they were growing up, youth respected their elders, parents spanked their kids without fearing CPS, the spankings did no harm, and children freely "drank from the garden hose". Do they even remember the accusations during the sixties that teens had "no respect for their elders", "no respect for authority"? Older generations like to stereotype Millennials and Fifth Worlders as generations of Eloi, genetically attached to their smartphones, phones that are smarter than they are. Mark Bauerlein titled his book on Millennials The Dumbest Generation.

Are Millennials really the worst, dumbest generation ever? Nope. As sociologist Mike Males wrote in an LA Progressive article : "Imagine that a time-liberated version of vigilante George Zimmerman sees two youths walking through his neighborhood: black, hoodied Trayvon Martin of 2012, and a white teen from 1959 (say Bud Anderson from Father Knows Best). Based purely on statistics of race and era, which one should Zimmerman most fear of harboring criminal intent? Answer: He should fear (actually, not fear) them equally; each has about the same low odds of committing a crime." From 1982 to 2012, crime rates among African-American youth plummeted: property offenses declined by 51%, assault declined by 59%, robbery declined by 60%, rape declined by 66%, and even murder declined by 82%. And even though Donald Trump said in 2017 that "The murder rate in our country is the highest it's been in 47 years", the murder rate in America has in fact been halved since its 1991 peak. Far from the fabled heathens who have no morals because their parents didn't spank them, Millennial teens and twentysomethings, whatever their race, have too many moral compunctions to murder, rape, burglarize, or assault someone or set fire to someone's beloved belongings. Sadly, the stereotype that today's youth, especially boys and especially African-Americans, are "superpredators" persists, and has cops and security officers shooting and killing Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, and Freddie Gray. People often support their fears by using the thinnest of anecdotal evidence: “Look at Columbine, they were teens!”

And "kids have no respect for their elders"? So what. Just as Boomer youth were right in questioning their homophobic, pro-war elders from the Greatest Generation (born 1911-1924) during the Vietnam War, today's youth are not necessarily in the wrong for speaking out against a parent, uncle, teacher, principal, coach, or psychologist-they-were-sent-to-after-being-diagnosed-with-ODD when said elder tells them that boys shouldn't grow their hair long, or that it's "inappropriate" for two girls to kiss, or that only paranoid alarmists believe in climate change, or that George W. Bush must be followed, right or wrong, or that kids must never express disagreement with adults on even as subjective and trivial a matter as whether the weather today is nice.

And the accusation that Millennials and Fifth Worlders are stupid? Co-champions were declared at the Scripps National Spelling Bee in 2014, 2015, and 2016, for only the fourth, fifth, and sixth times since the bee's inception in 1925. Then came 2019, when the spellers were so good that Scripps ended up with an EIGHT-way tie! Word lists got increasingly harder; the winning words from 1935 to 1941 were "intelligible", "eczema", "promiscuous", "sanitarium", "canonical", "therapy", and "initials", while the winning words from 2007 to 2013 were "serrefine", "guerdon", "Laodicean", "stromuhr", "cymotrichous", "guetapens", and "knaidel".

Other ageists listen to media frenzies over teens eating Tide Pods and snorting condoms. The moral panic over these "trends", however, has turned out to be a tempest in a teapot. Reports of being poisoned by laundry detergent pods were actually down in 2018, at the same time the media hype over this alleged teen fad was spiking. The trend stories were trend pieces reporting on previously written trend pieces, with acts of detergentophagy less common than the media would have their unwitting dupes believe. As the Washington Post wrote: "There's just one small problem, however: Those headlines were wrong. The only thing viral about the condom challenge right now is the moral panic about the idea of teens doing the condom challenge. In a matter of days, word spread from a single local news report to a small army of local and national publications across the world, all warning about a challenge that, in 2018, barely exists." As a Snopes page discusses, claims to fake "teen challenges" have been around for a long time. Sorry, but real youth are not as dumb as urban folklore makes them out to be. The media is simply getting more ephebophobic.

A common misconception among ageists is that the reason youth rights activists who are older than about, say, 25 still support youth rights is that they are pedophiles. The fact of the matter is that most adult youth rights activists are still fighting for youth rights because they faced some instance of ageism, or a repeated barrage of instances of ageism, during their childhood and/or adolescence that scarred them for life.

I am a young adult, soon to be middle-aged. I had many run-ins with, and undeserved attempts at discipline and sociaLIESation from, my parents, teachers, school administrators, psychologists, psychiatrists, and random adults in the neighborhood as a child, teen, and college student. I was also the victim of nonconsensual medical treatment, as I'll open up about in later blog entries.

When I was in kindergarten, the class learned the song "I Know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly", of which I was horrified. I starting scraping my nails down my throat and sticking them out of my mouth whenever I heard the words "spider" or "goat". Over the next two years, the "purging" ritual I was developing went down to my groin, and more words (and objects!) were added from ages 6 to 22. Other words were dropped over the years.

Little did I know at age 6 that I was developing what I call "logaesthesia", or word-tasting. When I hear or read one of those terrible words like "scxxt" or "whxxps", I get the sensation that I have swallowed the word. It's as if it's inside of me, slumbering in my intestines and attracting intestinal slime. To hear or read a word is to take in. I can never read an article without feeling as if I'm taking a drink of that article's waters, feasting on a repast of bread, beef stew and almond roca from the article. The same with listening to conversation. The words, further, have specific tastes when I eat them. When I hear the word "whxxps", for instance, I immediately taste whipped cream. The whipped cream is there right inside of me, its cold creaminess sitting in the front seat of my pants. Would you like you have whipped cream in your pants? That's what it feels like to me. The word "mxss" tastes like oatmeal. "Scxxt" tastes like cooked carrot, like the carrot in pot roast. "Jxggle" tastes like red hots -- the candies -- while "jingle" as well as "t-ngle" taste like those tiny spherical hard candies you put on cupcakes. "Xll xver the plxce" tastes like pasta-ey soup, a soup like Spaghetti-O's perhaps. And "ice xxxxx", of course, tastes like ice xxxxx.

And it's not only the words that make me purge that have a taste. Many of the innocuous words do too. For instance, "trump" tastes like sautéed mushrooms. "Doodle" tastes like macaroni. "Kentucky" tastes like fried chicken. With my logaesthesia, I am a person to whom words do more than convey semantic meanings. To you, "tale" is just a word for a story, but to me it conjures up the taste of lasagna, the pasta in lasagna with a light sauce on it. Even names can have tastes to them: Greg tastes like chocolate Easter egg, while the name Kevin tastes of ice xxxxx cone and Tiffany of lemon meringue pie.

To avoid coming in contact with these words, I don't watch television, nor do I go to the movies. I avoid coming into chatrooms as much as I can, too. Logaesthesia affects my life when it prevents me from doing certain things such as these. I also used to suffer while surfing the Internet and had to copy-and-paste a lot of posts from the Net into Notepad and use Find & Replace on them. Now I have a Greasemonkey filter that replaces the offending words.

The object triggers in logaesthesia also affect my quality of life. To avoid coming across things that make me purge, such as spiders and cobwebs around my parents' house, or plastic silverware in restaurants, or Winnie the Pooh and Spider-man garbage in stores, I have to close my eyes, or at the very least cup my hand in front of my eyes so I only see the aisles in front of me. It makes it hard for me to make my way around a store when I can't allow myself to look around, and sometimes I even bump into shelves. I can't push shopping carts or wheelchairs when we go into public places, unless we're going to someplace where everything is safe, such as See's Chocolates.

I often go into rooms alone so I have a place to purge where no one will see that I am purging. I used to purge in public, but eventually the rituals got so deep into my groin that I had to unbutton my pants and couldn't do it in public anymore. I am not prudish about other people seeing me, but I am afraid that other people might tell me my behavior is "inappropriate" or "socially unacceptable" if they see me purging, so I need to hide my purging to save my fragile soul.

Because of my condition, teachers and other adults who had convinced themselves that I was masturbating, or even who insisted it was "inappropriate" even if it wasn't really masturbating, because of society's taboo against what they called "putting your hands in your pants" (ooh, how I hated that phrase) have tried to socialize me, talked down to me, and then told me I was wrong for contradicting an adult when I defended myself. All the "socialization" I received in high school, all the being forced to do things, all the fascist comments that my behavior was "inappropriate" or "socially unacceptable", haunt me to this very day. I still think back weekly to run-ins with authoritarian teachers that happened during my school years, triggered by the logaesthesia or other, non-logaesthesia-related events, causing me to yell, bite myself, punch my skull, and punch my abdomen as if slicing open a watermelon. If I had only been given the chance to stop going to school, to live away from my parents, to move to Berkeley, I may have been able to get away from it all before too much damage was done.

It doesn't help me much either that I have never heard of another person having logaesthesia. OCD? Yes. Lexical-gustatory synaesthesia? I've met a few such people online. But the two in synergy? I've never even read of it. It attests to the extreme rarity of my condition that I was the one who had to coin a word for it. And I feel lonely. People with ADD, Asperger's, social anxiety, Alzheimer's, or conduct disorder are a dime a dozen, especially on the Internet. But me? I really know the meaning of being lonely. Even the Ehlers-Danlos "zebras" have found each other on the Net.

Let me tell you more about myself. I am writing a rock musical about Millennials, called The Bittersweet Generation, and had an alternative band called Red Cilantro during my late teens and early twenties. I have a collection of music on my iPod that includes such artists as Nirvana, Third Eye Blind, Smash Mouth, Fastball, the Beatles, Pink, Sia, The Naked and Famous, Florence + the Machine, Gotye, Enya, the Cranberries, the Sundays, Of Monsters and Men, Shaggy, KT Tunstall, Avril Lavigne, Hole, Michelle Branch, Lady Gaga, M83, Muse, Ingrid Michaelson, Bastille, Depeche Mode, the Weeknd, and Xymox, and listen to my headphones when I am out and about to avoid hearing purge words. I do my hair like Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, and always wear a turtleneck, khakis and sunglasses. I love trying new foods and eating old favorites such as lasagna, biscotti, sushi, Chinese food, Taco Bell, spice drops, ravioli, manicotti, rice crackers, cranberry juice, challah, suman antala, dolmas, quiche, pomegranate juice, Brussels sprouts, banh mis, enchiladas, rambutans and piroshkis. When one of my friends was diagnosed with cancer, I tried to get everyone we knew to pray for her. I like spending time with my friends, both male and female, whom I love to a degree more typical of friendships between two females than of male-male or male-female friendships.

Another abnormality I suffer is a sensation I call That Feeling. I will be in the middle of an activity, or just lying down, when all of a sudden I feel as if spiders are going to fall down from the ceiling onto me. I begin constantly looking for spiders on the ceiling, and checking my own hands for specks of dead spider that may have gotten on my hands from handling objects -- again and again. I feel as if my eyes are going to cross. It feels as if I am using 110% of my brain. I notice every object and sound around me equally, and have a hard time telling my surroundings from my own thoughts. My eyes can't make sense out of the pictures I see online. This has been happening to me since 2009. I'll call my caretaker and tell him, "I've got That Feeling again", and he'll know what I mean.

I am cismale, bisexual, Jewish, deist, a beatnik, ENFP, 4w3sx, Virgo, Californian, anarcho-syndicalist, bearded, anosmic, and childfree, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. I was born sunny-side-up with a single umbilical artery. On Simon Baron Cohen's tests, I got an empathizing quotient of 32, a systemizing quotient of 17, and an AQ of 24.

I've participated in, and read, many debates on the voting age, the drinking age, parental authority, school dress codes, medical consent, the youth rights movement as a whole, or just the whole concept of taking kids seriously -- I've seen them on Internet fora, on the comments sections of news websites, and in the emails I've received. And every place youth rights issues have been debated online, I've seen certain very shoddy and fallacious arguments against youth rights regurgigated again and again. If you're active in the youth rights movement, or even if you just read the comments sections at the Washington Post, you've probably heard them all: "Being a minor is only temporary", "You can wait", "16-year-olds will vote like their parents", "Young people think they're immortal", "I supported youth rights when I was younger but then outgrew that position", "You'll change your mind when you're older", "The only adults who still support youth rights are pedophiles", "If 16-year-olds are deemed incapable of signing a contract, how can they be mature enough to vote?" (the de jure fallacy), "My house, my rules", "Emancipation will solve everything", "Kids aren't oppressed -- they don't have to pay bills!", "Teens were eating Tide Pods a week ago", statements beginning "Society has decided . . .", and the red herring question "Bah, what about child labor?" Many of the posts in this blog will be centered around focusing on a certain argument and refuting it.

Then there are the scientific claims, published even by respected scientists, that claims teens have immature, underdeveloped, etc. brains, which first became trendy during the nineties. In a 2007 Scientific American article titled "The Myth of the Teen Brain", psychologist Robert Epstein exposes this as junk science. As Epstein points out, the studies that examine adolescent brains, teen-age pathologies, and teen angst do not distinguish cause from effect. Teen-age ills are caused by the restrictions on youth and segregation of teens from adults that got started in the early twentieth century. Teens in preindustrial societies do not show high rates of crime, and spend most of their time with adults. They do not feel teen angst. When Western-style schooling and television are brought to these societies, the adolescent members of these now Westernized societies begin to exhibit delinquency and teen angst. The Inuit living on Victoria Island, Canada had no problem with juvenile delinquency until their community was Westernized in the eighties, and by 1988 they had established their first permanent police department now that the worms had escaped from the can. Epstein also points out that brain imaging studies show only a correlation between age and brain anatomy, not a causal relationship. While the orthodoxy in the 1970's was that the brain reached its adult state at 18, and in the 1990's the line changed to "The brain isn't fully developed until 25", research in the 2010's now reveals that a person's brain in fact continues to develop and change for her/his whole life.

It's enlightening to see the kind of junk science that was used in its own time against women's suffrage, as in this recent article in the Atlantic. Note that William P. Sedgwick, an outspoken opponent of women's suffrage who claimed voting would be bad for women's brains, was a reputable professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

But all of that will be delved into in more detail in my blog entries in the weeks, months, and years to come. I've been writing about youth rights and ageism for more than two decades, and I do believe it is high time I had a blog on it. I have a moral philosophy I call bixochromatism (which in a nutshell states that the freedom to be in control of one's own decisions is more important than making what people tell you is a "good" or "wise" decision), which I will discuss in future posts. In the meantime, you can read my essay, 10 Reasons to Support the Youth Rights Movement, at http://khemehekis.angelfire.com/10reasons.htm , or even browse the website of the National Youth Rights Association (NYRA) at https://www.youthrights.org/

In solidarity,

Savegraduation

#youth rights #ageism #medical consent #voting age #baby boomers #generation x #millennials #fifth world generation #myths about youth #logaesthesia #aaliyah #silent generation #teen crime #national spelling bee #politics #hot topics

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gilbvrtblythe · 6 years

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Doctor's Orders | Anne and Gilbert

Description: ER Doctor Gilbert Blythe is a professional, really he is. He never meant to get a crush on Anne Shirley, the writer who frequents his hospital due to her knack for getting into trouble. But there's something so entrancing about her that makes it almost impossible for him to stay away. A Modern AU where Gilbert is an ER Doctor and Anne is a patient of his who keeps getting injured in ridiculous ways.

Word Count: 3669

Fanfiction Masterlist | Archive of Our Own

Gilbert Blythe was not a fan of working night shifts in the ER.

It’s not because he minded the hours, going through medical school had given Gilbert the ability to function on little to no sleep, so that was a non-issue. His problem was that unless it was a Friday night or some partying holiday like New Year’s, nothing ever happened.

If he was going to work a 12 hour shift at the hospital, he at least wanted to be doing something. He didn’t want to be sitting behind the nurses’ station staring at the ER entrance just hoping someone would come in needing a doctor.

Which is what Gilbert was currently doing.

It had been a quiet night as it always was at the Avonlea General Hospital at 1:34 am on a Tuesday in the middle of May. Aside from Gilbert, his good friend Charlie Sloane, and the 3 other nurses working the night shift, the ER was completely void of people.

Gilbert was shaken from his reverie by something small hitting him square between the eyes. He lifted his chin up from where it had been resting in the palm of his hand to throw a look at Charlie, who was sitting in a rolling chair a few feet away.

“Seriously?” he asked, picking the paperclip up from where it had fallen onto the counter in front of him by his elbow. “A paperclip? Why?”

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and did slow spin in his chair, staring up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “I thought you fell asleep,” he said simply.

“My eyes were open Charlie,” Gilbert said, giving him an incredulous look. “I was staring outside of the doors how could I have been asleep?”

Charlie let out a long, drawn out groan, lifting his head up straight again to look at him. “Fine, I’m bored and want someone to talk too. So stop daydreaming about some massive car pileup with lots of injuries and talk to me Blythe before I actually fall asleep.”

Gilbert scoffed and leaned back in his chair while crossing his arms. “I wasn’t daydreaming about a massive car pileup. That’s just morbid.”

“But you were hoping that someone would come in here needing a doctor?” he retorted, quirking an eyebrow with a smile that oozed self-righteousness.

“Oh like you weren’t wishing for the same thing,” Gilbert said, rolling his eyes.

Charlie opened his mouth the respond but closed it as he glanced towards the doora. “Dibs,” he yelped, shooting up out of his chair.

Gilbert spun his around chair quickly as Charlie rushed past him out from behind the nurses’ station. It was then that the automatic doors slid open and a man around his age entered the ER.

He held a bloody cloth napkin over his nose and his white button down shirt was no doubt ruined from what had already leaked through onto it. The faint whiff of alcohol he brought along with him disturbed the antiseptic smell given off by the recently cleaned floors and sterilized equipment.

“What? Charlie you can’t call di-“

“I’ll help you right over here sir,” Charlie said, his Doctor voice coming through instinctually. He waved the man over to one of the many free beds that lined the pristine white drywall. As the man sat down with a low groan, Charlie continued on with his usual spiel, picking up a tablet they used for electronic charting. “What brings you in here today?”

“I think my nose is bro-“ he paused, sitting up straight and looking over at the ER doors as they slid open once more. “HEY!” he yelled angrily at the 3 young women who walked in. “You’re gonna be paying for this!” He moved the bloody napkin away from his nose and gestured to it with his free hand.

“Like hell I will Billy!” one of the girls yelled back with a fire that matched that of the color her hair. “Try something like that again and I’ll make sure to aim further south!”

The redhead’s two friends started to laugh but yelped and stepped backwards as Billy moved to get off the hospital bed.

The girl, who was clutching her right hand and an ice pack to her chest, didn’t flinch. Her challenging glare never wavered in its intensity. Gilbert was slightly impressed by how she managed to stand her ground.

“Woah hey hey easy now okay.” Charlie rushed around to the other side of the bed. He gently pushed Billy’s chest in an attempt to get him to lie back down, which he did with a begrudging expression.

Gilbert walked out from behind the nurses’ station and gestured for the girls to follow him. “Here, I’ll help you in an exam room.”

They all gave him a quick thank you and filed in behind him as Gilbert reached a hand in to flick the lights on. The thin paper that lined the exam chair crinkled as the redhead sat down with a sigh, Gilbert closing the door shut behind him.

Her two friends stood against the wall to the right of the examination chair, the blonde one flipping her hair dramatically over a shoulder. The dark haired one, who seemed the most reserved of the three, began to chew her bottom lip anxiously as the redhead readjusted the bag of ice on her hand.

“Alright- well I’m Doctor Blythe and I’ll be taking of care of you this evening,” he said, breaking the silence with a smile. “Can I get your name?” Gilbert asked, his brown eyes meeting the blue ones of his patient.

“Anne Shirley,” she said, lifting her chin up slightly in a dignified manner. “And that’s Anne with an e.”

He raised an eyebrow amused, but scribbled it down as directed none-the-less on the notepad he kept in his white lab coat. “Alright Anne-with-an-e, what brings you into the ER today?” Gilbert asked, trying to hide the curiosity that had been bubbling inside since the skirmish he’d witnessed only minutes earlier.

“Her fiery temper,” the blonde friend muttered in response under her breath, but not quietly enough that no one could hear her.

The brunette friend smacked her on the shoulder with a gasp. “Ruby,” she hissed lowly, looking back at Anne with concerned eyes.

“What?” she said defensively a smile tugging at her lips. Ruby crossed her arms over the pink velvet dress she was wearing and looked Gilbert in the eye. “It’s true.”

He turned his gaze back to Anne who gave him a sheepish smile, taking the icepack off her hand with a wince. “I uh- think I broke my thumb.”

Gilbert nodded and sat down on the stool kept next to the examination chair. Anne held her injured hand out for him to take wordlessly, sucking a breath in between her teeth as he gripped it gently.

The skin of her thumb and surrounding knuckles were red and very cold from the ice pack that had been on them previously. The joint where the finger met the palm of her hand was already swollen.

With a feather light touch, Gilbert ran a finger over an area that was exhibiting a dark red/ pinkish hue, the beginnings of a bruise. Goosebumps erupted over Anne’s soft skin at the contact, her arm hairs standing up as she let out a shiver.

He glanced up at her, not bothering to hold back a smile at the blood rushing to Anne’s freckled cheeks. For the first time since they met, Gilbert was able to get a good look at her.

Anne had high defined cheek bones and a very cute nose that curled up at the tip in a way that seemed almost regal She looked to be close to his age, but the double French braids she adorned paired with the rosiness of her cheeks gave Anne an air of innocence and possibility.

Stray strands of auburn and fiery red hair fell around to frame her face and eyes, making them seem even brighter a blue by contrast alone. Every feature about her was striking, and they all came together to make one, very beautiful face.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew Gilbert’s attention away from Anne with a start. “So, what do you think?” she brunette friend asked, looking between the two of them with a smug smile as if she caught them doing something scandalous.

Gilbert realized suddenly that he was still holding Anne’s hand like a man who was about to put a ring on his new fiancé’s finger. They made eye contact for a split second before he gently let go of her palm, hoping the action didn’t look as awkward as he felt.

“Well I think there’s definite a possibility Anne’s thumb is broken, but we’re going to have to get an x-ray to be sure,” he said to them, standing up off the stool. “Good news is since it’s 2 in the morning, the line for the x-ray machine is nonexistent so we won’t have to wait long to get one.”

“2am,” the brunette mumbled to herself, rubbing her temple with a groan. “I have class in 5 and half hours.”

Anne reached her non injured hand out to grasp her friends’ wrist. “You can go Diana. I’m all grown up now I don’t need you here with me. Plus Ruby’s here.”

Diana scoffed and shook her head. “Oh shush Anne Shirley I’m staying, it’s my fault you’re here anyway. I’ll just call in sick tomorrow.”

In the time they’d been conversing, Gilbert was able to finish putting in a request to Radiology for the x-rays he needed via the tablet all rooms had for patient charts.

Opening the door to the exam room, he turned back to face Anne. “If you’ll just follow me Ms. Shirley,” he said, putting his notepad back in front pocket of his lab coat. “We’ll go ahead and get that x-ray done.”

“Yay,” she cheered weakly, sliding off the exam chair. “Wish me luck guys.”

“Good luck!” Diana and Ruby chorused, as Anne stepped out into the hallway.

Gilbert closed the door behind them and began walking, Anne keeping up pace next to him. “Radiology’s on the 3rd floor so I hope you’re not afraid of elevators,” he said, glancing over at her.

Anne was a good head shorter than he was, even with the lace up boots she wore that probably gave her an inch or two. She held herself with poise and confidence, walking as if she were on air. So much so that her boots made no noise against the tile flooring.

“Don’t worry I’m not,” she said, pausing for a second before continuing with, “Can I ask you a question Dr. Blythe?”

He nodded his head as they turned down a hallway, the elevator coming into view at the end of it. “Sure… if I get to ask one in return.”

“Fair enough,” Anne agreed, giving him a once over while pursuing her lips. Gilbert was suddenly very conscious of the fact that he was wearing dark blue scrubs, old tennis shoes and a lab coat. “It’s just- well you seem kind of young to be a Doctor.”

He let out a bark of laugher, running a hand through his untamable dark curls before putting it in his pocket. “Yea I get that a lot,” he said, looking at the ground in front of him. “I’m a fifth year resident so I’m not a doctor doctor yet. I also skipped 2nd grade, graduated high school in 3 years, and finished my undergrad degree in 3 as well.”

“Woah,” Anne said surprised. Gilbert felt a surge of pride run through him knowing that he’d managed to impress her. “You’re either really smart or have a death wish.”

“It’s a little bit of both.” Gilbert pressed the up button on the elevator as they came to a stop in front of it. A mechanical ding sounded overhead as the doors slid open, the two of them strolled inside.

“Your turn,” Anne said as the doors closed.

Gilbert leaned his back against the wall and pressed the button for the third floor. “Alright,” he said, turning his head to look at her. “I’ve gathered from deductive reasoning that you messed up your hand from punching that Billy guy in the face with your thumb tucked into your fist.”

“Wow a Doctor and a Detective. Your parents must be proud.”

“They are thank you,” he retorted with a sweet smile. Anne grinned and shook her head with laughter. “Anyway,” Gilbert continued, “I just want to know why you punched him in the first place.”

Anne began toying the end of her left braid absentmindedly, scrunching her nose in disgust as if just thinking of the story itself made her angry.

“My friend Diana announced her engagement tonight to this French guy she’s been dating Jerry. I for one never thought that’s kind of guy she’d go for but if she’s happy with him I guess it doesn’t really matter. Poor Fred’s gonna be crushed though, I’ve always had an inkling that he never really got over her even though they’ve been broken up for years now.”

Gilbert’s confusion no doubt showed on his face because Anne took one look at him and smiled sheepishly. The elevator doors opened at that moment so they stepped out and continued the walk to Radiology.

“Sorry,” she apologized with a light laugh. “I tend to get carried away when telling stories. Anyway, we went to a bar to get wine and maybe some raspberry cordial to celebrate, it’s an old inside joke that we have. It was all going fine until I went back up to the bar to get a 2nd round.”

“That’s when Billy showed up?”

“Exactly. Billy Andrews showed up. We went to school together as kids, but we were never friends because he’s just plain awful. There are some things that should change with time as people grow older, but in the 5 years it’s been since I last saw Billy he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still the same idiotic, self-absorbed, arrogant boy he’s always been.”

“So you punched Billy for being… well… Billy?”

“No I punched him because,” Anne paused, trailing off. Gilbert looked over at her and noticed that her cheeks had gone red again. “Well he kept trying to flirt with me, saying how beautiful I was now that I’d grown up, and I just couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to considering how mean he was to me when we were younger.”

Gilbert laughed and glanced over at her in disbelief. What an interesting patient Anne had turned out to be. “So you punched Billy because he said you were beautiful?”

“No! I punched him because of what he did after that. I kept ignoring him, just waiting for the bartender to show up with my drinks so I could go back to Ruby and Diana. But I guess Billy had enough of it because he grabbed one of my braids and pulled on it calling me ‘carrots’ to get my attention.”

“Oh no,” Gilbert said with a wince, already knowing what happened next.

“Yep. Oh no is right Dr. Blythe. Everyone one who knows me well enough can tell you that I can take teasing of any kind as long as it hasn’t to do with the color of my hair. And as Ruby said before I do have quite the temper. Once its set of there’s no chance of a rational decision being made, which is why I decked him in the nose. It was the first thing I could think to do.”

Gilbert was slightly disappointed when they finally arrived at Radiology. He didn’t want to end their conversation, he rather liked the sound and cadence of Anne’s voice.

It was smooth like silk, the words escaping her lips coming out in a dignified manner. The changes of tone and use of differentiating inflections created a mosaic, each word its own piece of colored glass.

Gilbert could’ve listened to her talk for hours, never growing bored.

He didn’t really get the chance to talk to Anne again until it was time to give her the results of the x-ray. He’d stayed with the Radiologist on call to wait for the results while a nurse took Anne back to the exam room.

X-ray’s in tow, he gave the exam room door two short knocks out of courtesy before entering. Anne opened her eyes and sat up straighter in the exam chair, covering her mouth to hide a yawn.

Gilbert hung the x-rays up on the light box, taking a look around the room with a raised eyebrow. Besides the two of them, it was completely empty.

“Where’d your friends go?” he asked, leaning his lower back against the counter.

“I convinced them to go home in an Uber. They left me the car and keys,” Anne replied, her eyes drawn to the scans that hung on the wall. “What’s the diagnosis? Am I gonna live?”

Gilbert smiled with amusement, even though he’d heard that joke so many times it had lost it’s comedic effect long ago.

“Unfortunately, your thumb is fractured,” he said, then pointed to the spot where the bone had broken on the x-ray, “right here between the two joints.”

Anne leaned back into the exam chair with a sigh. “Well this is just great. Isn’t it?”

“If it makes you feel any better, you get to choose the color of your cast,” Gilbert said, tilting his head sideways slightly. “We even have strips that glow in the dark now.”

“Haha, very funny. Not only are you a Doctor and a Detective, you’re also a Comedian,” she retorted, a smile playing at her lips. “Save a job for the rest of us common folk.”

“Someone will be down here shortly to fit you for your cast,” Gilbert said, making sure Anne’s distracting nature didn’t stop him from doing his job. “After that, assuming all’s well with the paperwork, you’re free to go once you schedule a follow up appointment 4 weeks from now.”

Anne rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Four weeks? I have to wear a cast for four weeks?”

“At the least yes.”

She exhaled through her mouth, stray strands of red hair flying about. “I’m going to get so far behind on my revisions. I can’t type nearly as fast with one hand.”

“You’re a writer?” he asked. That explains her extensive vocabulary, Gilbert thought, and obvious passion for telling stories.

Anne nodded her head. “Only part time though. I teach at a private school during the day, which thank the good lord in heaven is already out for the year,” she turned he head to look at him. “Did I really break Billy’s nose?”

Gilbert laughed at that, nodding his head with a grin. “Not terribly though. His septum wasn’t deviated or anything.”

She seemed pleased with that answer, a triumphant glint adorning her blue eyes. “Good riddance.”

He couldn’t help but agree, but Gilbert did so silently in an attempt to be somewhat professional.

When the Doctor from Orthopedics came down to fit Anne with her thumb spica cast, he left the exam room so they could work. If he’d stayed in there, Gilbert was sure he’d end up in another conversation with Anne, one that wasn’t totally professional for him to be having with a patient.

It was too soon for him to say whether or not he had any sort of crush on the girl, but he definitely liked talking with Anne. There was no denying that or the fact that Gilbert got an odd flutter in his stomach anytime she laughed at one of his jokes, or anytime their eyes met. Or anytime she tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear.

Okay, so maybe he had a little crush on her… but it didn’t matter.

If they’d met on the street or at some coffee shop in town, he might’ve asked her on a date, or at least gotten her number so they could talk more.

But, they met at the hospital, where Gilbert was a Doctor and Anne his patient. Once again, he was an unlucky victim to matters of circumstance.

Charlie and Gilbert both looked up from the game of solitaire they’d been playing as the exam room door opened. The Ortho Doctor held it open for Anne who gave him a smile as they parted ways. She walked up to the nurses’ station and held up her casted right hand for Gilbert to see.

“So? What do you think?” Anne asked, showcasing her orange cast. “I know it’s not a very practical color, but I figured if I ever get frustrated I could just use the color as reminder of what I did to get it. And just how worth it was despite the pain and itchiness.”

Gilbert stood up out of his chair. “I think it’s perfect,” he said with a chuckle, handing her a Doctor’s note with an amused smile. “I’m sure you got all the information about how to take care of the cast from the other guy but it’s all listed in here too. You can take over the counter medicine as directed for pain and your follow up appointment with Ortho Doctor is on-“

“June 13th,” Anne finished for him. “10 o’clock. One of the nurses already scheduled it with me.”

He nodded his head with a hum of agreement. “And until then I suggest that you don’t punch with your thumb inside of your fist… should you ever need to break another man’s nose again,” Gilbert said then added with a playful smirk, “Doctor’s orders.”

Anne’s cheeks flushed with color as she shook her head with a smile. “Noted,” she said, her blue eyes meeting his one last time. “Thank you Dr. Blythe.”

“It’s my pleasure Anne-with-an-e Shirley.”

#anne with an e #awae #anne of green gables #aogg #shirbert #shirbert fanfiction #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #shirbert au #hospital au #fanfiction #off

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seenashwrite · 6 years

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

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

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

Last Addendum, I Swear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Past entries below

Special (Royal) Addendum!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And never, ever watch “My Christmas Love”.

Love, Nash.

#11

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

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

#humbly

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

I’m saving you, here.

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

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

::sighs::

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These are my notes verbatim:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Otherwise....

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

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

--> the dude is an incredible, unlikable asshat

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

1/5 stars .

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

*takes deep breath*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your rec list is now:

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's all, kiddos! See you next time for the worst of the worst, complete with screencaps. You will *not* be disappointed.

#10

Okay, if I'm gonna get to the fanfic-y-est of all the Christmas movies - and it will easily take up an entire post - we gotta tear through a bunch because the season's almost over and you're not gonna have time to avoid/find these, depending. So we'll hit a high point first (because I've added to the 4-to-5 stars you-should-actually-watch-these rec list), and tear through a bag of mixed nuts, including the third David Haydn-Jones... treat... nah, this third one is the best (?) so far... though, um, that ain't saying much. Woof. Yeesh.

As a reminder - 3/5 means they aren't exactly a waste of time, 2/5 are debatable/up to personal taste, and of course 1/5 means I will never get that time back and I'm that much closer to death because of the movie and what it drained from my soul.

Let's kick off with one that may be my favorite, and got a 5/5 score, update the ol' You Should Definitely Watch This rec list...

Love At The Christmas Table

(Danica McKellar, Lea Thompson, the guy who played Luke on Gilmore Girls, several character actors you'll recognize, and the lead dude is familiar too though his name doesn't ring bells - Lifetime)

Look, from what I can recall, ol' Danica was fine in "Wonder Years", but as I mentioned in a past post, something has happened over the years and girl can't act. It's distractingly bad, because she's typically paired with heavy-hitters (even if they aren't well known). So I'm not sure if it's that she and the lead male really clicked or she really clicked with the director, but it was night and day. This movie is also from 2012, so maybe it's just been tough going acting-wise since then. In any event, don't let any other of my other reviews of her dissuade.

But the script and the direction are both *fantastic*, and I suspect it's partly because the concept was kept nice and basic: A man realizes that his best friend since childhood is the one. Boom. Lots of room to get some good character development and plot progression, and they did, since it's not bogged down with a bunch of extraneous stuff.

There is so much delight packed into the first half hour, you will be grinning. The execution of it is nicely done, too - as we go through the years, each Christmas is prefaced by "Age ___" to let you know how much time has passed, and they look subtly different in appearance and attitude each time. The parents are phenomenal, you're going to enjoy each one of them. The interactions between all parties feel real. And more on feels, this almost feels like a play - it takes place in a house for like, 90% of the movie. But every set is very cozy and crowded with things and/or people (in a good way), and nothing seems like it was perfectly placed, it's how these locations would actually realistically look.

The worst thing I can say about this movie is that I really wish the two leads were other people. They had fantastic friend chemistry, but I tell ya, not a ton of spark when it started bending romantic. And there are plenty of actors who look younger than their age, and maybe that's what this needed, more mature actors who could realistically be shown as teens with some sweet hair/make-up magic. Or, again, could be Danica. I don't know. But she comes across *legions* more relaxed in front of the camera here than in others I've seen her in, so that little bump in road aside (and truly, it's not intolerable - it's noticeable, that possibly poor casting of them, but it's not going to pull you out of the story).

You're going to love the last fifteen minutes, what she does for her dad, how he's walking and talking with his parents when she sees what----- I can't say it. I *genuinely* do not want to spoil this for you. And then the very-very ending is *chef's kiss*.

I want you to watch this movie, especially you who are fans of friends-to-more. Because, I mean, there's a STORY, thank you lord. It's not regurgitated same-ol', same-ol'. This is a really great character-driven piece, and honestly? I wish it had gotten optioned to be on the big screen. I think it could've really been included with other heart-grabbing, fan-favorite romantic Christmas movies.

5/5 stars

The (now newly) updated rec list of well-worth-your-timers:

(5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark) (5 of 5) Love At The Christmas Table (Danica McKellar, Lea Thompson - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark) (4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime)

Christmas At The Palace (Not a person you'll have ever seen or heard of, ever - Hallmark)

I've regrettably watched "Christmas At The Palace" once through completely, and three times caught blocks of it because I basically leave these channels on all day, then when I pass by the remote, I'll flip through the main four giving us "originals" (Hallmark, Hallmark Movies & Mysteries, Lifetime, and the JV team over on ION), and that's that. This one has clearly been on *constantly*. And it sucks. Not one person - I'm not exaggerating - not *one* *person* in this movie can act. If you've ever imagined yourself in a movie or TV show and thought it impossible? Please let this movie give you hope. You can do it. Someone hired these people, they'll hire you.

Gives me hope writing wise, as well. What a septic tank of a script. Check it: once again we find ourselves in a royal circumstance where the prince is widowed or needs to get married because of blah-blah-law-queen -and-king -insist, who cares. This time though, he gets his Christmas boner --- I MEAN --- spirit via a former almost not quite professional ice skater. Seriously, they make a point to say she didn't make the Olympic team and isn't on the pro circuit, she choreographs for this travelling show thing. I mean characters with flaws, sure, but they shit on her in the first fifteen minutes. The whole movie in its entirety is embarrassing to watch. There is minor redemption in the (standard) best friends (one for each of the leads). They are.... tolerable. That's it, I almost said "okay", but I can't because they're so grating in most of their scenes.

And the two main gals? The lead and the best friend? Won't. Quit. Fucking. Smiling. I'm not exaggerating this - they are smiling easily 90% of the time. It is incredibly irritating. And there is zeeeeeeero chemistry between the prince and the ice skater.

Skip it. I can find something that's garbage enjoyable in a So Bad It's Entertaining way, but this one is absolute stank garbage, and they are pimping it like it's the second coming.

1/5 stars

. Christmas In Tennessee (Rachel Boston [again], Andrew Walker, some kid with really jacked teeth, Caroline Rhea, and Patricia Richardson - Lifetime)

Aw, shit. Here we go. After the Graceland one with Kellie Pickler (which you'll not see me report on here because I couldn't sit still long enough to watch it because she can sing, but she sure as shit can't act) my hopes are not high, though they *were* renewed to a great degree with "Every Other Christmas", which if you'll recall is on my rec list for you.

Bakery. Christmas pageant. Real-estate suits coming after the teensy town to build a ski resort. One of them is cute man. She is cute baker. She is also a single mom. And there's a mysterious sweet woman "Mrs. C" who *loves* the cookies - and so did her husband "Kris" [wink-wink]

:: sighs ::

At least nobody's trying and failing to fake a Southern accent, god and small favors and all that.

Listen, all I want is for there to be some originality. That's it. I'm not looking for perfection, I mean, that's subjective, after all. (Well.) Just fucking... I mean, look: don't make her a single mom, to start. Don't make her a baker, second. Keep your ski lodge in small town thing, fine, that's the conflict between them. But hey, what if she's the mayor? Have a Leslie Knope, politics-oriented, civil-service type as the lead character. Somebody who can go toe-to-toe and not have to sugar-sweet-charm her way around shit.

In any event, good acting from the leads, Caroline Rhea and Patricia Richardson are always good in everything, and there's some nice snappy dialogue. It's not too terribly saccharine. Fuck, fine, I'll stick it on the not a waste of time list it unless something goes way haywire. [time passes] Okay. I has a lil' smile on my face. It actually didn't typical too-too hard. The lead actors were great, everything seemed easy and casual between them. Too bad the plot was weak. Still though, didn't leave me feeling it was a total waste of time.

3/5 stars .

~ Let's do an Alicia Witt Trifecta! ~

. Christmas at Cartwright's (Alicia Witt - Hallmark)

"Nicky is a single mother, unemployed and broke at Christmas and desperate to find a job in order to make her young daughter's holiday a happy one. With the aid of an angel, she gets a job as a department store Santa." - It is pure cheese. Alicia Witt should stick with drama, hundred percent, it is astounding how pedestrian her acting skills become when she has to get sweet/touching/emotional in the absence of any heart-grabbing stakes (think Lily Sunder). So anyhow, this is some piss-poor amalgam of Miracle on 34th and It's A Wonderful Life, but I'm giving an extra star because kudos for making the chick the Santa.

2/5 stars . Christmas on Honeysuckle Lane (Alicia Witt, Colin Ferguson, Laura Leighton - Hallmark)

This almost got off the naughty list purely because Colin Ferguson is a fucking delight in everything he's in, he's one of those "elevators" as I call them - Mark Sheppard is another good example - because they elevate anything they're in, however shlocky, and if it's actually good, they help make it even better. This, according to my notes, is "exposition dumps coated in cheese", and it's that ol' chestnut of the saving the family home and oh noes dead parents and big city gal back in town and wow she's gonna stay! You've seen many iterations of this movie, don't bother. The house is fabulous, though, I'd live in it in a hot second.

2/5 stars (and that 2nd star is only for Ferguson - as stated before, Witt should stick to drama vs. awwww stuff)

. A Very Merry Mix-Up (Alicia Witt - Hallmark)

Once again, please welcome Alicia, this time en route to meet her future in-laws as a surprise to announce the engagement (well, and that he's been dating someone at all - he's a work-a-holic who never gets home much - matter of fact, he's stuck finishing up a deal and has to meet her there vs. ride together) and "through a serendipitous series of events" has to ride along with a dude who turns out to be her future bro-in-law, who proceeds to wreck her phone with a drink, and then wreck the car because he's distracted. The MD at the hospital tells them not to sleep for the next 24 hours and that they need constant monitoring.

(Couple things while I have you: The former is an old wives' tale, and as for the latter, if they need constant monitoring, they wouldn't be discharged, they'd be admitted for, you know, monitoring. Jeez this part was so stupid. It was so they could slumber party and bond. Because there was no other way to accomplish bonding than via stupid car wreck and representing med professionals as stupid. ::sighs::)

You know, this would be a great movie if the plot was that she was a con artist. It's not. But wouldn't that be great? And the romance comes in when she has a change of heart because shmoop-shmoop-shmoop first family Christmas she's ever experienced? WHY AM I NOT A SCREENWRITER HOW DO I SUBMIT THINGS TO PEOPLE

Anyway, we find out fiance is scum, and later we see that his family is stiff and cold and miserable and a bit *too* much of a contrast to the other family. There's a cookie baking scene, check. The leads have pretty good chemistry, though. But oh, quelle horror! Name mix-up! Wrong family! Oh noes! Anyway there's a thing with a story about grandparents and a clock that's legit creative and sweet... but at the very end, I don't get why t.f. he didn't put the ring they found on her finger. This movie isn't a complete waste of time, there's just some choices in there that they whiffed that could've made it something special.

3/5 stars

. Hey! Let's do another like that - but oh boy does this one take a turn.

Dashing Through The Snow (Meghan Ory, Andrew Walker)

You'll recognize Walker from the Tennessee movie with Rachel Boston, he's the one with the cheekbones you could cut diamonds on (no seriously, it's just skin on skull, it's mesmerizing) and you know Ory from lots of other stuff. Be warned: she is annoying as all-get-out in this movie, and it's tolerable, but it spikes every now and again into the I Want To Shake You territory.

This one is bugfuck bananas, and I am here for it.

So it's a eye-roll premise, she gets stuck when her flight reservation gets screwed and then there's no rentals so she and this guy who are going in the same direction agree to share a rental.

Here's the thing: she's gonna work your nerves, I'll tell you up front. She's this whimsical perky but anal retentive ball of AAAAHHHHHH!!! SHUT UP!!!! that made me quit watching this movie the first time. I went back to it when it re-ran for one reason, and one reason only, and it is this:

After she makes a fuss at the counter to the attendant at the airport about her reservation being fucked up, when attendant is on the phone, she sneaks through to get to the other side (because, y'know - this is the Get On Plane side, over yonder is the Get Off Plane Side where it's easier to get to rental car vs. walking across the airport), and we learn that attendant wouldn't let her board and lied about the whatever was wrong and is on phone because homeland security or feds or whatever are there because some chick with her same name is an international criminal.

Phew! Out of breath.

Now, you have to overlook the fact of why would an international criminal who knows how to evade authorities all the sudden (a) use her real name and (b) make a fuss/a scene and (c) get herself caught all over cameras so that the authorities now know what she looks like for the first time in years. I'm warning you now. I know. I *know*. It's a piss-poor way of going about this, even though it does get explained in, like, the last 40 minutes and with a "Really?" sort of reasoning. But, interesting and unique plot, so I'll take it. There’s also a wonderfully cute puppy who lights up the screen, totes steals the show.

So, there's a "twist" that I didn't find to be twisty, I called it the moment ___ interact early on, but that's okay, I can let that go, I guess the endings of easily 95% of movies I watch (blessing/curse). But - AGAIN! - interesting and unique plot, so I'll take it. Only reason it didn't make a 3 is how annoying Ory's character is, and how stupidly they portray the FBI, with not listening to their top agent when he says "We're wrong - she had her identity stolen - call off the op." It’s not a “1″ but it may be a “3″ for you, you’ll have to make the call. But for me....

2/5 stars

. Hope at Christmas (The lead chick is familiar, her name is Scottie Thompson - Hallmark)

Single mom! Precocious daughter! Returns home to deal with dead grammy's house! Meet cute in bookstore! Mom not terribly into Christmas because kid will be with her dad! She slowly gets back into it! Plans on going back to big city! Ends up staying! Because lurve!

None of the acting was bad (I mean, the little girl is annoying after awhile), but as noted, the story is the same as most others. You make the call, folks. And you'll be able to, I've caught it airing after my initial viewing no less than four or five times, no joke.

2/5 stars . The Sweetest Christmas (Lacy Chabert - Hallmark)

This is about a gingerbread contest. It is boring as fuck. Skip anything involving Lacey Chabert, trust me, this is the only one I managed to make it all the way through, and believe me when I say it was touch-and-go, I had to make myself in order to give her a fair shake. I've never thought she could act, though, to me her voice is less delicate and more whiny, and besides, she's Poor Man's Jennifer Love Hewitt #sorry not sorry

1/5 stars . Just In Time For Christmas (Doesn't matter, though William Shatner does show up driving a horse-drawn carriage - Lifetime)

Meet Lindsay, a young - too young to be up for tenure, bee-tee-dubs - psychology professor has to choose between a book deal and tenure track at a prestigious university versus accepting the marriage proposal from her longtime, totally adores, really loves him (they are VERY pointed about establishing this) boyfriend. But hey, screenwriters, got a thought, and hear me out: why not both? But I get it, since this movie is from 1975, oh shit sorry, 2015. Yeah, no. Pass.

1/5 stars

. And finally, DHJ. This is gonna be short and sweet, because on the whole, it blew. But I'll tell you when/where you can watch the fourth, since I won't be covering it and it's gonna come on at an ungodly hour and I likely won't watch it. It sounds like ass.

A Bramble House Christmas (David Haydn-Jones, Autumn Reeser - Hallmark)

The premise is he's a children's book illustrator who comes to this little town under the guise of getting inspo for his next book, but really he's supposed to be confronting the nurse's aid to whom his now-deceased (and estranged) father left a shitton of cash, giving her an injunction (to the will) on behalf of himself and his sister.

But then, lurve. :::sigh:::

Understand up front that this is an hour's worth of "movie" that was stretched into 2 hours, man oh MAN did it drag. And there's all the typical: ice skating where one person sucks; cookie baking; tree decorating (with garish, not subtly-done product placement); also tree in the town square that is visited and "oooh"-ed upon; and precocious child with some oh-noes-sick-kid frosting on top. It is dreck. The premise, sure, okay, that's decently original, but the rest of the story is basic bitch in a bow.

At fifteen til quittin' time, it got straight dumb. She rushes off after she finds out the truth - on Christmas Farging Eve - packing up her and the kid and saying they're off to the airport. How? What? You got no ticket, bitch, where the fuck do you think you're going? Ugh. Idiotic.

One thing, though: if you can get to this in a manner that you can skip to about the 45 minute mark, do it. There is a *moment*. The way DHJ can pull an old Hollywood leading man *look* that says "My dear, I want to kiss you, and well" is a sight to behold.

2/5 stars (one of which is automatic, because DHJ elevates everything he’s in) . You can see the fourth DHJ movie - A Cookie Cutter Christmas - on Hallmark at 1 a.m. CST on Saturday the 22nd of December.

One last entry (#11, tomorrow or Sunday) then a #12 all its own for the pièce de résistance. I'm not overselling it. It is deliciously ridiculous.

Candace Cameron Collection check-in: "Switched For Christmas" is absolute nutterbutters. It is ridiculous and it knows it, so it goes full throttle. I am really impressed with her acting, doing the identical twin thing must be a bitch and a half to film, and she pulls it off. The split screens are well done, too, and not just for TV movie, I mean it's good-good. I'm telling you nothing about the plot. It's sugary sweet, you'll get cavities, and it's not my jam but I couldn't turn it off so that means.... something, I don't know. There was no wine involved, I swear. It's on Lifetime.

But nevermind all that: I know I promised the fanfic movie to end all fanfic movies, but I'd forgotten I promised *before* that to talk about the next David Haydn-Jones feature.

So, last night (read: early this morning, and as of this writing so it may not have been last night at the time you read this) when insomnia struck (read: woke me out of a dead sleep to say HEY IT'S 2 A.M. AND SHIT'S KICKING OFF ON HALLMARK), I groggily turned on the TV at about 15 after, and to what my wondering eyes did appear?

Hoo-boy. The look on his face says it all.

Now, as you know, initially DHJ tried to dodge my investigation. It did not work. And I found him trapped between an over-the-cute-line-into-annoying cotton-topped child and Winnie Cooper in "My Christmas Dream" (Hallmark).

And sweet babby jeebus, did he carry this movie.

I like Danica McKellar in real life - not from having met her or something, I mean because she's a giant ol' nerd, she's a mathematical genius, legit (look it up, I can't do everything, I'm shouldering these movies, my brain can't handle it) and she *sparkles* in interviews. Having said that, she's got Claire Novak Syndrome. Put the actress who plays Claire (I can never remember her name, I've no idea why) in front of a camera and it's all dolly dead-eyes, one trick pony angst... and in everything I've seen her in, I've talked about it before, I won't rehash. Danica’s opposite in that she’s ooooooooverdoing everything. I would actually take some flatness. But it’s still Claire Novak syndrome because something fucking happens when the camera starts rolling and it goes unnatural and awkward to watch. Dunno what it’s about. Who cares, not why we’re here.

Anyway, I am only touching on this movie for DHJ purposes, otherwise I wouldn't bother, it’s not worth the time to watch or tell you about, truly. It’s not the worst, but even he seems to be phoning it in for the most part. So. She's a department store exec and he's an artist that's been doing handyman work, they hook up when his *incredibly* annoying child somehow gets to the store on his own to ask if his dad can work there, she gets him home, her car battery's dead, flirting ensues, blah blah biscuits, stir and bake til crispy, and it'll still be sloggy goo in the middle. It's just straight dumb. Don't waste your time. They have negative-integer chemistry, it's pretty embarrassing to watch, honestly.

1 out of 5 stars, and that 1 is all for DHJ.

That was short, let's pop off a couple more:

Marry Me At Christmas (I didn't note the network or the "stars")

Horrid hair gal meets sentient Ken doll-Archie Andrews hybrid whilst planning his sister's wedding on the fly. Small charming town. He's big city, Hollywood, specifically. Yes, it's the prince and the commoner tale but instead of a prince he's a movie star. Cue the blecccchh. As it's called Marry Me At Christmas, they kinda blew their wad in the title, the sister's wedding goes through as planned, so no drama ahead there.

I really can't say enough about how badly they did her hair. She's got super-curly hair naturally, and I'm not a hairdresser and even *I* know the answer isn't Weigh It Down With Product And Hard, Then Don't Even Finger-Comb It, So It Lays Flat Pancake From Scalp To Ear, Then In Creepy Porcelain Doll Spirals To Shoulders. She looks great when she's in a hat and it's an outdoor scene and it gets tousled. But it's distracting the rest of the time, is my point. Oh, then they inexplicably straighten it for the wedding - curly hair can look *gorgeous* in a formal updo. The one time they didn't leave it curly.

Yes, this is the only thing worth discussing in the entire movie. Not even worth the bingo card. 1 out of 5 stars.

Speaking of hair:

Entertaining Christmas (Hallmark) - Jodie Sweetin, Brenden Fehr

Her hair, it's all I can focus on - it's this weird Southern mom bouffy thing when it's not pulled back somehow. Also distracting - and this is a lovely woman, if you've not seen her since she was a child on Full House - are the ill-fitting, unflattering clothing they've put her in. It appears Ms. Sweetin and I share an affliction of the stems, that being... (deep breath) ...hi my name is Nash and I have the legs of a linebacker. It's true. And not a ton of muscle definition, because when I do? Hoo-boy. Heavy-duty linebacker. Best they're left alone.

Point is, if gals like us do skirts, it ain't flattering to go above the knee, it's just not, it wrecks the silhouette and makes our already chunky-monkey legs look even bigger. And dammit if they didn't do it to her, and not even bother to put her in tights. This woman has huge hooters and a tiny waist, they could've had her rocking some crisp black slacks or a pencil skirt that hit mid calf and a snug lil' cashmere sweater and BOOM, you're channeling Mansfield and Monroe. Bonus that she's a natural blonde. But no, let's put her in matronly above-the-knee shapeless polyester-looking dresses. Ugh.

Okay, anyway - this is actually a decently inventive plot: she's the daughter of a Martha Stewart type, and she's "poised to be the new face of the brand" - problem is she suuuuuucks at all the cookie making and knitting and whatever. She's also of the thought that imperfections and unique family traditions are more awesome than the largely unattainable perfect-perfect blah-blah from mommy's magazine. I'll give them this: the mom is awesome and nice and kind and understanding, they were smart not to cliche it up and make her a hardass.

But even though it was a creative plot, it just slogs and is so bleh. If you haven't guessed the ending by that synopsis, I don't know what. It's, um... I mean... it's not great, but may appeal to some, so I didn't put it in the This Is A Horrific Attempt At A Nice Lil' Christmas Movie pile. Take that as you will.

Let us end on a semi-positive note:

Christmas Pen-Pals (Lifetime) - Sarah Drew (who?), character actor you'll recognize immediately (for those of a certain age, it's the dad from Family Ties), other people you'll never have seen before in your life

This should've been called Christmas Cupids because it's about a thing called Christmas Cupids. The people behind these movies are *killing* me.

This one's good, and mainly because the premise is great, it's about secret santa in a potentially match-making way, but hey could also make a good friend. The set-up is that Drew chick is a total brain and she wrote an algorithm for a match-making app but it's so scientific it's boring and as her business partner at said app company put it, it takes away the spark. Which is kinda dumb, because you get the spark when meeting the other person, ain't none of these dating apps giving you in-person spark. Whatever, they're losing users so they need a kick. I missed the part about how she re-worked an electronic app into handwritten letters, but that's neither here-nor-there.

I'm not gonna tell you who she ends up with - you'll guess it nearly immediately, don't worry - but know that even though it's predictable, there's several really sweet and unique moments that I haven't seen in all these other 50,000 carbon-copy Christmas movies. The acting on the part of our leading lady is a little extra, and the other lead is a little flat, and the flow/cadence to the story isn't quiiiiiiite there, but I'm giving it 3/5 stars, so it's not on the rec list, but not a waste of your time.

And just to recap the rec list thus far...

(4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark) (4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime) (5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark)

We'll see about doing a rapid-fire round-up next time, and maybe doing The Christmas Fanfic Movie That Out-Fanfics All The Fanfics And The Christmas Movies, but I legit want to watch it all the way through (I only caught the last half) so I can make sure I'm reporting accurately to the three people who are reading these (not bitter don't care doing it anyway).

I'm not overselling this, by the way. I'm not. It is *deliciously* bad.

Okay, as a reminder, the only movies which I've given over 3 stars/would actually recommend you spend your time on (and keeping in mind that a "5" does not mean it's a great movie, it just means it's not overly sad nor overly shmoopy, and doesn't hit a grotesque amount of recycled plots on the bingo card) are: . (4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark) (4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime) (5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark) . Those last two we haven't talked about yet, so I'll cover 'em at the end of this entry - first we're gonna shoot through the ones that aren't a complete waste of time and have recycled shtick, true, but aren't teeth grinding due to the acting or directing or whatnots.

And we're doing this because next update, I'm going to spend the whole thing on where you can find the Whyenne some of you love so dearly, you reblog her every chance you get. It's her. It. Is. HER. Every mannerism, every word, every---- well, I'm spoiling. That's for next time.

Okay, these are all in the 2-to-3 Nash star ballpark...

Dear Secret Santa (Tatyana Ali, Lamorne Morris) --> there's too much singing for padding the runtime --> you may like it more/find it more satisfying than Sandra Bullock/Keanu Reeves "The Lake House", and that's all I'm telling you plot-wise

Kristin's Christmas Past (Shiri Appleby) --> it's exactly what you think it's about by the title --> there's a really cute, snicker-worthy scene near the start with her younger self, and part of it reminds me of the vibe of the rapid-fire convo in Mystery Spot

A Twist of Christmas (Vanessa Lachey, and someone called Brandon Zub - I think - who is delightful) --> A dad and a mom are shopping for their kids and their bags get mixed up and blah-blah-blah ensues because they're opposites in many ways, but I didn't find it terribly grating --> it's an adorable sort-of snarky-sweet

Road To Christmas (Jessy Schram, Chad Michael Murray) --> nice premise, he's a good actor, and she's... well... ::sigh:: --> this chick in everything I've seen her in... she apparently has one gear, and that gear is coked-up mouse that skitters everywhere with her barrel-curled hair vibrating around her head... but in this one, she chills as the movie goes, so it's tolerable

A Christmas to Remember (Mira Sorvino, Cameron Mathison) ---> This aaaaalmost got on the rec list but I can't because the plot is weaksauce "Overboard" (80s movie, Goldie Hawn & Kurt Russell, it's hilarious)... -->...but it wasn't the worst, because these two are such good actors, they sell it, and it's sweet, and keeps good pace, so there ya go

Okay, to the goods - next time we'll talk about the ass disasters - and one specifically that I 100% guarantee the fluff fans amongst us will love, despite my ripping it a new one. Which I'm going to do. Because of all these I've watched, the one we'll talk about legit flabbergasted me on many levels.

A Very Nutty Christmas

I am slightly biased because Melissa is a friend of a friend (sister-in-law, specifically) and she is good people, a hard worker, and a smart (heh) cookie. She knows what roles she nails (sharp wit, no shmoop, strong chicks), so that's what projects she and her mother choose (they produce most everything Melissa's in), she stays in her lane, is my point, so if you agree with that assessment, then you're good to go, this is classic Melissa Joan Hart fare.

She's a baker, but not some "Waahhh this is hard" sort, and there's no competition, it's nothing but what you'd expect - lotsa cookie orders at Christmastime, but again, she's not super-duper stressed, she’s got the appropriate level of “let’s go, people!”. Now, here's the cheese that I don't want to chase you away: her decorative Nutcracker comes to life (Barry Watson) and helps her out.

I know, I knoooow. And listen, at the first scene with him, you're gonna think that Barry'll be working your nerves through the rest - I sure as shit did - but stick with it, he ends up being very charming. You may actually be wooed. The character is completely sincere in all he does and says, and you’re happy to see her have this sort of person in her life, because she puts a lot on herself, and boy is that totally relatable.

Other good stuff is you'll recognize all the secondary characters (their actors, I mean), with the exception of the ex boyfriend, but he's well cast, he doesn't play the smarmy too heavily. There's also a good song behind the (standard) montage for once, and smart smart smart is their limited usage of Tchaikovsky outside of the blip of the ballet that we see. And kudos for that, too, limiting the ballet's role in the movie.

The whole thing is tied up with a very satisfying ending. It's fluff done right....

The Christmas Ornament

....and here's angst done right.

This isn’t about an ornament being magical or something how you might think from the title, I promise. It’s significant, but not in some otherworldly way. The situation(s) are absolutely plausible, it’s a believable story, and there’s not all this exposition that explains the characters’ backgrounds, it all unfolds organically, and you’re honest-to-god rooting for them, no matter if the story has them together at the end or not - you’re gonna find yourself saying “I’m okay with this happening for them either way, whether they stay friends or if it evolves.” On that note, kudos to the writer: Cameron’s character is very empathetic and doesn’t push Kellie’s character, not even once - he pushes her to get “out there” and interact with people and be social more than she has been, yes, but in a good friend sort of way (and Jewel’s character is doing the same - it’s in the “we care about you” way).

And this movie looks *fantastic*. The cinematographer and editor gave it big-deal-theater-movie-level treatment, no kidding. Some beautiful shots, especially some lingering ones at the ice rink. Bless the music supervisors, too - no shitty distracting music, and no one (if memory serves) sang for an extended period of time, if at all (I really don’t think anyone sang). Jewel Staite is a treasure, and for once the side-friend was actually necessary to the story, she was well-used.

I also liked it because Kellie’s character is self-assured in many ways, fragile in some ways - in other words, she’s real and she’s relatable. I took issue with one teensy thing, I didn’t track with how it was she was the one to apologize for a misunderstanding, because she actually wasn’t far off base; what she thought made sense for (1) how he’d behaved toward her, and (2) what she’d seen, and (3) what she knew because of what he’d told her prior. In any event, that’s the only real “flaw” (and it could just be a Nash thing) that I saw. This one’s well worth your time.

This entry’s about “Dear Santa” (Lifetime), part of the David Haydn-Jones quadrangle Christmas tangle. The plot sounds decent - cheese, but decent. I love Amy Acker, and I love DHJ, this should be a cakewalk.

[15 mins.in] Oh. Oh, my.

Yeah, I'm busting out the Cheesy Christmas Movie Bingo Card, it'll be at the end. Let's see if we can get a win. At a minimum, I think we're gonna be checking a lotta boxes.

Other than our leads, we have poor man's Sean Hayes as gay best friend (h/t @butiaintgonnaloveem) on the scene, and he's outfitted in hot pink chef gear - AT THE SOUP KITCHEN - so that everybody's clear he's a card-carrying member of The Gay.

Shitty acoustic guitar riffs, cool.

Precocious child plays the flute... and shittily.

There's a homeless man whose shtick is that he won't come inside, never a roof over his head again, and I wanna know (do I?) where he's taking his dumps.

Related, the music continues to be shitty, and I mean toilet-clogging.

Ice skating "lesson", check.

Holy fucknoodles, two grown women are in a food fight. I do not get why Dollar Store Justine Bateman (the snippy girlfriend, the one that is so off-putting it is beyond the realm of possibility that this kindhearted and jovial man is even remotely interested in her despite knowing each other a long time) is so vitriolic, as she's known Amy Acker about five minutes.

THIS MUSIC

Christmas wish, check.

The green screen effect behind rich mommy checking in from the Caribbean is such ass, I am shocked. You Tubers have better green screens. How do you fuck up a green screen? You're a goddamn cable channel whose focus is movies. TV local news manages to do it with weatherpeople multiple times a day.

Acker and Jones save this dreck. The kid ain't half-bad, either. But they are the types of actors that everything out of their mouths just flows so naturally, even when the plot is ass. I love this Angel-SPN match-up.

JEEBUS HAROLD CRICKET he just said that they are *five* *figures* *deep* in back rent on the soup kitchen and - I quote - "I guess the bank's out of good will". DO YOU THINK?!

"I thought little girls loved to play the flute" is a line that was just uttered, and bless DHJ for actually getting it past his lips.

I forgot to mention, Acker's displayed some guilt a couple times now because earlier, there was a meet-cute (okay, apparently a near-run-over) incident with a mail carrier, a letter flew out, and - I *must* quote @butiaintgonnaloveem here again - then "instead of giving it back, she commits mail fraud and opens it."

Now, the guilt is because it's the lil' tyke's letter to Santa, asking him for a new mommy (dead parent/spouse, check) and she's also feeling guilt over tracking them down (why? boredom? sure, that's gotta be the reason, because to remedy the letter situation, you glue that shit shut and stick it in a mailbox, it's just going to an incinerator at the mail station anyway), but it's this misplaced Christmas wish that perplexes me. It's not like she nicked a bill or a wedding invitation or something that's actually important.

I'M A GRINCH

Oh he owns a snowplow business? That name again is Mr. Plow (Simpson's song ref, google Mr. Plow, I'm sure it's somewhere). And it's the song I wish I was hearing, this music is eardrum-thumping. It is a slobbery wet willy. It is *achingly* bad.

He just stared longingly at her and licked his lips, FML.

Now Acker's acting like a snotface. I don't dig it. I'd be cool with her being sharp and not taking the shit from Justine but being classy about it, they've got her being balls-out bitchy.

Why is it taking so long for the wealthy girl to be like HERE IS CASH MONEY FOR YOUR SOUP KITCHEN YOU BEAUTIFUL CREATURE DAVID HAYDN-JONES --- like I get your charge cards or whatever are snipped, but go sell some jewelry or clothes from last season and shit.

She had the letter in her clutch? She's carrying it around with her? Why? WHY?!? I hate stupid writing. I hate it. Worse is that it's lazy. HATE. Why was it in her purse? Because someone needed to find it. And there was no other possible way to accomplish that, than having one of your leads be an absolute fuckwit, right? GRRRRRRRRRRR that stuff just works my nerves.

The confrontation scene is good. Neither are over the top.

Well how's about that? Her Christmas present check will cover the soup kitchen's debt!

Enough with the shitty guitar riffs, it's like I'm watching an SPN ep, and, no, that's not a compliment.

The longest montage for padding runtime is happening, and with another shitty song (but a tolerable one, despite the singer faking a lot of catches in her voice - I would know, I have a natural catch in my singing voice that I had to fight like a mofo for about six years in choir, but I've digressed, just tuck that nugget into your Nash file), showing Acker moping and DHJ sighing, then him running by the soup kitchen to sit in his snow plow and angst, and then....

....oh lookee there! She did the thing. Sean Hayes - in a sheer v-neck inexplicably over a long-sleeved cotton shirt like I'm presently wearing because it's what I lounge/sleep in, with a Coach neckerchief to top it all off (on god, I cannot make this up) - is now sassing DHJ, saying the letter thing was fate. And I mean... yeah, it was, right? Whatever, if DHJ was single and I had the chance, I'd be happenstancing my way near him as much as (and smoothly as, natch) possible.

I CAN BE SMOOTH SHUT UP

Smooches near the town tree square or whatever it is. And now we're back, and now the homeless dude has agreed to come inside, and we still have absolutely zero idea why he doesn't like being inside, and they have (checks time) less than 2 minutes to resolve it. *see below*

Nope. That's it. That's how it ends. The homeless man came inside. Because that was the primary arc.

No. It wasn't.

It should end with us seeing him come in, sure (I'll ignore the boom of Chekov's Gun firing in the background), but we end NOT with the moment between DHJ and random homeless dude - which, again, let me be clear is *exactly* what happened - but rather with him coming in and all the rest of the homeless comrades and staff and Acker and Jones greeting them, then we see our two main characters and the kid sitting down like a family, pull back, we see them through the window in which Christmas tree lights are reflecting, pull back further, it starts to snow, cut to credits.

Imma give this one 3 stars outta 5. It wasn't a total ass disaster, but it wasn't that great. It was okay. The Bingo card concurs, as it didn't get filled up, but it got damn close to being a 2/5 (in my mind, every bingo = a point off because it means it’s so unoriginal a damn bingo card could’ve written it):

Addendum:

Butiaint reports that "the homeless guy wouldn't go inside because the last building he walked into was a casino and he lost 'every last penny', so he could never 'just step inside ever again'," to which I, very calmly, replied --->

I'll do an addendum.... that still doesn't... I don't.... what? That's.... why not just say he can't make himself sit down for a homecooked meal because it causes him too much pain because his family died in a car wreck going out Christmas shopping and a dinner/meal was his last memory of them? It didn't need to tie into the money thing with her, that thread was fine on its own.... goddamnit I hate stupid writing

Back to quick round-ups and arbitrary ratings of a bunch of movies in the next one, once I get my notepad transcribed.

For some reason, this whole entry morphed into a recap of "Holiday High School Reunion" with Rachel Boston (Lifetime). You'll recognize this gal, she's been in others for Lifetime, and I personally recognized her for the pretty damn entertaining, sadly short-lived Witches of EastwickEnd series. It was a fan-frikkin'-tastic cast of awesome women, they made any sloggy scripts watchable. I digress.

I immediately empathized with this character because not even a quarter of the way into the movie she's (a) dreading her high school reunion, and (b) hates social media because she doesn't wanna have to justify/be asked about/etc. her life, as she's not where she wants to be. I personally would add onto that the distinct apathy regarding the details of everyone's life. It's either veneered in fabulous or dipped in drama-filled Debbie Downer. Blecchhh. I've digressed again.

There's been a brief funny daydream - if they do more, I'm in, it was pretty cute. And there's been a brilliant piece of screenwriting in this movie, and I want to share it for my writer buddies because it was a *pristine* show-don't-tell.

(Let me say here real fast, to paint you a picture, that she's dressed casually - hoodie, and I think lounge-y pants or maybe pajama pants, or maybe just jeans, can't recall - because it's clearly way past end of workday, and the character I'm about to talk about is in a crisp white button-down and tie and suit slacks.)

Her father arrives to find her on a porch that's covered in strings of Christmas lights wound around the poles/pillars/whatever you call them of the railings, and around the trimwork of the house, and they're these great pops of vivid colors in the night, first of all. So we're seeing her standing there, smiling and happy to see him, and what's in the foreground is a series of bulbs along the window or door frame, and one of the bulbs is out.

Instead of truly greeting his daughter, first thing he does as they barely start chatting, and while she's speaking, is saunter over right into frame, blocking our shot of her, and give that bulb a twist til it lights.

My immediate thoughts: He's a dick. He likes everything just so. He enjoys perfection. He's not interested in effort, just execution. He zeroes in on faults. He actively ignores/doesn't care about the fact that his daughter is happy to see him. He doesn't consider her important enough to receive his attention first and foremost. He's a supreme dick. And he's gonna make her feel like shit for where she is in life, which is her biggest insecurity, which he should know, because that's how good dads operate. But he's not a good dad. Not at all. And I bet he's about to donkey punch her feels.

All that from a twist of a bulb.

And I was right: he proceeded to make her feel like shit by being snotty about her job and comparing her to his golf buddy's daughter. Then she still managed to sit back down at her laptop and focus on what she was doing and smile a genuine smile, and now I like her and feel for her even more. No one would have blamed her if she cried, or snapped at him, or slammed her laptop closed and had an Angst Attack, and those would be writing choices too. But the choice is for her to make the best of things.

We also know this because it is reinforced with another good show-don't-tell via actions (versus her announcing it ad nauseam or other people saying it ad nauseam), when red punch gets spilled on her white dress at the reunion and the snobs are like "Ohmigawd!" and gasping, she goes "Well I think it looks kinda cool!" She does snag a cardigan because she's aware it's an eyesore, so yeah, she's lying to herself. It's clearly a survival mechanism, her childhood must've been a dream with a father like she's got (rolls eyes).

And the lie(s) she tells is to avoid the drama of not living up to the "Most Likely To Succeed" superlative, and even then it's a relatively minor lie, she's not making herself super-duper fabulous because she doesn't feel super-duper presently. She's cheerful without being obnoxiously Pollyanna, and her dynamic with her best friend (you'll recognize him, too, he's the dude who dated Regina George and who Cady had a crush on in "Mean Girls") is phenomenal, they have great chemistry and I'll be honest, I see where this is going and I've got some faith in these screenwriter(s) that they'll actually pull it off smoothly.

There's been a dance/song routine and it is horrific and I hate it. I hate it hard. It's stupid and lasts too long and is purely for padding the runtime. But. It had a good point, albeit one that could’ve accomplished in less time. The three queen bees who were her fake friends in high school, and are her fake friends now, all remember this routine to a pristine degree, and of course we see our girl whiff it the more it goes on, she knocks over a prop, turns this way when she should've turned that way, and I feel her - high school is utterly forgettable.

I’m about to digress, so skip the indent if it doesn’t apply to you - anyone reading this who is currently a senior?

Enjoy it, it's your last year, enjoy being kings of the hill. I liked my senior year for several reasons but the biggest one was that I was getting the hell out of there. I was liked, I was decently popular and I made good grades and was in honors choir, but I wasn't top-tier popular or the head cheerleader or the valedictorian or homecoming queen or always having a boyfriend, none of that, and what I was? That stuff I just listed?

None of it matters. I've not been to any reunions, because I don't care to reminisce. Not that it was horrible or something, it was... *shrugs*. I'm still friendly with the people I went to high school with, ended up going to college with a couple of 'em, matter of fact, and I like who we are as adults tenfold vs. who we were in high school. Because as grown-up as you feel? You're a child. You're all children. I was a child. We were all children (even the couple of gals who, um, had children/were preggers before all was said and done and diplomas hit hands). We were. It just is.

So I assure you: the people who still wistfully think about high school, the ones who "peaked" in high school? There's something mentally still childlike about them, and I don't have the time nor the inclination to deal with man/woman-babies. I'm a grown-up. So believe me when I say that life is about to open up like a motherfucker. And if you did happen to peak in high school? Leave that behind, too. Resting on childhood laurels won't serve you well, because other than some of those accolades getting you into college? Nobody - and I mean nobody - in grown-up world cares about that shit.

Oh christ another song. And a daydream (pseudo-flashback? hard to say, I was getting a snack). But again, more reinforcement of how high school doesn't matter to her but super-matters to others, in this case how she (former head cheerleader) didn't place give much memory real estate to how she'd broken off things with high school boyfriend (former quarterback), but it's like the first thing he asks about as soon as they're alone.

"Wow well... that was a long time ago," she says, starting to think back, then ultimately says - "I thought you were cheating on me."

He totally was, I don't even need to see a flashback, hundred percent, he's scum. Whoa shit, speaking of - another flashback whilst kissing him, but whoa shit part two, it went to a fun, happy memory with best friend. Not subtle, this movie - of course she'll end up with him.

The divas are now in the bathroom gossiping about her and don't know she's in there. Again, the not caring, this time more blatant - "She ruined the routine!" - "It's like she doesn't even care" - "Can't believe she broke up with him on prom night" - "He deserves better".

One of these bitches was the one he was cheating with, no doubt. They also talk about how one of them called around, found out her job wasn't what she passed it off as, that she's a wardrobe assistant vs. a right-hand-(wo)man to this swank designer. The Queen Bitch calls her "nobody", and the minor bitches are saying how they're her best friends and wondering why she wouldn't tell them the truth. Hey, cheerleaders: Gimme a D! Gimme an E! Gimme an L! ....fuck, this is gonna take too long.... Gimme a USIONAL! What does that spell? DELUSIONAL! *pom shakes* *high kick* *herkie* *round-off-back-handspring*

Oh lord why is she doing a weird impromptu cheer routine.... best friend jumped in to support and encourage and some people seemed to get into it but... the fuck? These screenwriter(s) are either on point or left field, jeebus.

Speaking of field, she and best friend are out lying on the football field, and they're talking fun memories - as in, the only ones that are vivid in her mind are the ones involving him, and vice-versa. I will give them this: the flashbacks are cute and short and don't derail the momentum. They're really well done. The songs are the whiff.

Now the queen bees are discussing their next routine. THE !!FINAL ROUTINE!!! AND SHE HAD A SOLO! (Why the shit are they performing routines at their reunion? I've heard tale of slide shows and videos and stuff like that, but fucking stage shows? Damn I hope that punch is spiked.) One of the minor bitches - the sweet ditzy one - is weeping loudly when Queen Bitch says our gal's officially out of their glee club. But she says "glee club", as in... they're the only 4 members? No other members are in attendance at the reunion? Looks like it was a big-ass graduating class. ???? Got me.

Our gal's mom - who is MARILU HENNER DID I MENTION THAT and has been woefully underused thus far - has overheard. Commercial break. I need a Mountain Dew.

We're back. Marilu is completely opposite of Dick Dad. Now we're in a random B story where one of the bitches is flirting hard with the principal.... and the mic's hot. But she ain't embarrassed, says she'll meet him wherever someplace at midnight. Oh and I forgot that best friend's not-really girlfriend flew out to join him as a surprise and he'd been like "Wha..." and she serves no purpose. Even now, when she gasps and squeals excitedly "Oh you're in love with her!" She ain't mad, and good, because nobody cares. And she's all pumped because she's made lots of friends with these people she'd never seen before in her life.

Fucknoodles the !!!FINAL ROUTINE!!! is bad. Now the solo. Our girl's taken the stage and Queen Bee didn't put up a fight, just stormed off. And here we go: she's making a speech about how she's not yet lived up to the Most Likely To Succeed, but their votes meant a lot to her, and she's not giving up. It's good shit.

And then they start chanting her name (it's Georgia, btw).

And then she starts her O Holy Night solo.

*sigh*

This movie is well-written but there's *so* much unneeded padding to the runtime. And she's on key and there's nothing wrong with her voice but it's nothing special. So what? Lots of people can sing in tune. I don't get it.

Flashback. Yeah, totes cheating, and he admits it - which, if she remembers, then that contradicts the earlier conversation when he denies it... huh? - and now she's in the gym, where she's bummed about the breakup. Best friend rescues, gets her up and dances with her for the last dance.

Have I mentioned that everyone looks identically the same? And we're supposed to be ten years out? Seriously. Hair and everything. Except for - and I don't know why - the bitch trio. (Dear Wardrobe and make-up departments: WHAT.)

So yeah yeah yeah, they share the last dance at the reunion because the whole thing was a fucking talent show-prom do-over (reunions are just not like that, y'all, I know I haven't been to one but my mother has - helped plan one, matter of fact - and they aren't Prom Part Deux, nor are there glee club and cheerleading routines, nor are they scheduled around major holidays. Dear Writers: ALSO WHAT.)

Ending is rushed and is stupid. Holy shit, they whiffed it. They actually ended on the totally unneeded B plot of the prinicpal seduction (which, by the way, consisted of a whopping 2 scenes... possibly 3, clearly it made no impact). This is the stupidest thing, they ended on such a bad note it leaves an icky taste in my mouth for this movie.

This one gets 2.5 stars out of 5. It had 3.5 for most of it, and then when we hit that first routine at the reunion, man did the points start coming off. This was classic fanfic: a ridiculous premise, sure, there’s things you have to overlook out of the gate (like, say, how nobody sane would plan a farging high school reunion at Christmas, at least not if they wanted actual attendance) but the execution’s great for the first half and then something happens and brains melt and it swerves into oncoming traffic and gets hit by The Trope Bus. ::sigh:: Ah, well.

Ermahgerd, "Christmas Shoes" is coming on *warning lights flash* * dives for remote, goes to safety of Hallmark Movies and Mysteries immediately *

Next entry: part one of the David Haydn-Jones Christmas movie trifecta. Finally caught one. It stars the chick that played Winnie Cooper. And holy jumping Jiminy Cricket, was it bad.

Candace Cameron will star in any movie that’s Christmas themed and I am determined to watch all of them. She’s typically cursed with a snoozeville co-lead. The Alaskan doctor one isn’t bad. The executive who’s there to examine the lodge one is absolutely snore-worthy. The one about the saving dad’s business with nutcrackers one is pretty okay. I am actively avoiding the newest one about magic shoes. Christmas shoes never ends well.

Double feature with someone I vaguely recognize as being from a CW show in the early aughts, but clearly not one I actually watched, or I’d remember. Anyway, broad strokes: one is from a couple years ago, she’s a single mom and there’s this locket with a nautical star on it that’s literally, um, locked, and..... it’s not brought up again til the end. You’ll know the movie because you’ll think to yourself “This doesn’t know what it wants to be” - is it about the locket and how it was a gift from her mother and she lost it and it was somehow pivotal to discovering who her birth father was? Or is it about the custody battle with the asshole ex-husband and her losing her job and being evicted? Or is it about the meet-cute then “crossed wires” recurrent situations with the shop owner’s grandson? I have no idea. But there’s precocious kids and a bakery. It had potential, and that actress is good and so was the co-lead, but script = hot mess.

Second one is about a poinsettia farm and stars Bo Duke/Jonathan Kent, depending on your generation. She’s from the big city and she’s a-comin’ home to save the family business! I assume she meets someone at a bakery, I wasn’t pulled in at all, my remote finger got real twitchy, but when I flipped back toward the end, surprise! She’s a-stickin’ around, she’ll run the family business, don’t sell the farm, screw her life at the other place with the things!

I actually have another recommend: “Operation Christmas”

Solid script, and hella fine acting by one Ms. Tricia Helfer. I have loved her since Battlestar Gallactica, SPN fans will know her as the lady ghost on the road who doesn’t know she’s dead. That chick. Killa actress. You wanna talk about a good crier on camera? Top tier, here. My cold, black, shriveled heart actually giddy-up’d and I possibly got misty when she bursts into tears in this movie. Also stars Marc Blucas, who Buffy fans will remember as Riley, and I like him, too.

There are precocious kids, and this coulda gone cheaply exploitative with the military angle, but it sticks the landing with only minor wobbles, it hits heartwarming vs. cheese. There’s an odd fixation on singing in the back half (several characters singing solo at various points), and it’s awkward to watch (and hear, because of the distinct shift your ears will detect between the “on set” and the “in recording studio” audio) because with the exception of one, when they blend it into a professional singer whilst slipping into a wee montage of Christmas tree delivering - or unloading, I can’t recall, who cares - the songs go on Way. Too. Long.

Except.

What they did during the talent show during the Silent Night number? That sing-a-long? Now, that I wish had been a little longer. A+ job, screenwriter(s). The very-very end was saccharine, but it was short, and that’s what counts because I realize you were trapped, this is Hallmark Christmas movie we’re talking, you had to do it, you’d been steady through the rest of the script, they wanted their shmoop, no one blames you.

Something called “The Sound of Christmas” has just come on, and there was so much exposition dump in the *first* *three* *minutes* that the titular sound is actually gonna be the click of my remote control. Oh lord looks like the lead male is poor man’s Ray Liotta who’s a high-powered blah-blah-blah. And seems it’s precocious child: petulant teen edition. I’m out.

David Haydn-Jones continues to elude.

Pattern detected: Plot--->

The conflict must be saving family business/home from certain doom

Business = service industry (store, bakery, gardening/plants/farm, lodge/hotel)

Female protagonist supes busy with her stuff and such in the big city; has to leave; returns; likely plans to stay forever

Precocious child, standard

Execution--->

One lead must be a notably better actor than other; neither may be on-point overall; if both are something, that something is teeth-grinding to watch and/or listen to

Exposition with (admittedly) necessary facts must come early on, and in dialogue dumps, preferably just one big fatty, and preferably between two people who already know this information vs. to someone who is not privy to this information

Character introduction/pertinent background must not trickle out organically over the first act via showing their actions and other characters' reactions; just throw in with that plot exposition dump

A big gun was pulled out last night - Patti LaBelle was briefly in one, watched some of it, was glad to see an original plot (mostly; see above, re: female protag mold) but then I thought better of it, googled, and yup, based on a book. Ah, we meet again, Not Original Story. This morning, tangentially related, something-something-rich-dude-reg-chick, and they were named Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet #fml #gag #stay away #get Austen out of your mouths

Presently playing is one whose plot sounds suspiciously like The Parent Trap: Christmas Edition, Nashville Style. Sort-of, I mean, we start there, then I'm not clear on where they drive to, but it's still Southern, and props to the filmmakers for not going nuts on the snow, someone actually did some research. I will also compliment them for only letting the folks who have some form of natural Southern accent/Southern cadence use it, the rest speaking in standard North American accents.

Now, two things: I love the Lohan version of P.T., a lot a lot a lot, and I'll hear nothing bad about it. Secondly, I'm going to refrain from commenting on shite Southern accents in movies in general, this one and elsewhere, such as in the Kellie Pickler Graceland-set Christmas one that aired yesterday that I could only tolerate in five minute increments as I flipped back and forth to Law & Order SVU frequently for palate cleanses #Mariska sorbet

But it got off to a good start, the opening credits were creative and unique, and I recognize the lead actors. Kids don't seem terribly precocious. Hmmm.

I shall give it a chance.

[time passes; returns to draft]

It's not Parent Trap, summary was garbage, it's not about the precocious kids, and no one has a high-powered career, no one is filthy rich, and both lead actors are really great. The chick is Sissy Spacek's daughter, I've seen her in other stuff before, have always liked her, I think she's talented. I recognize the lead dude from something I've seen before, too, he's a bit of poor man's Paul Rudd, but good. There's a somewhat difficult grandma, but she's not unlikable, you kind of get where she's coming from, and it's because it's Dee Goddamn Wallace, the queen of playing mothers (youngsters, google her, you'll likely recognize her, leave out the goddamn when you do).

The background music isn't overly country-fied nor syrupy-shmoopy twinkle-bells. The dialogue is actually decent and delivered believably by all parties. The kids aren't annoying. The side characters are just that, left to the side, there's no best friend/sister taking up screen time. The leads have an easy, natural chemistry. Holy fucknoodles, I might recommend this one to you. I'm actually watching this one. I'm legit watching it.

[time passes; returns to draft]

What I said above continued, then there was horse-riding and acoustic guitar and even a classic car. The chick wasn't the one leaving to go back to what-the-hell-ever. Nobody was pining for anybody, and the conflict at play was completely realistic. Okay, yeah. Recommend. Hundred percent. This is the angst-turns-to-love with a dash of domestic life AU fic many folks keep trying to write and not quite getting there (Hi, I'm Nash, and I'm supes blunt when I'm under-the-weather), then your bonus that it's set at Christmastime.

The exposition on backstory was done pretty dang smoothly, but better was that we weren't told who these characters are/were, we were shown. *And zero flashbacks* There's several great, snappy, shot-across-the-bow lines. There's a religious element that is pitch-perfect and appropriate and not overbearing. The ending song is a smidge too long, didn't need to hear the whole thing, but it's kept simple and the lyrics are sweet without being cheese, so I'll give it that. Pacing overall is a little wobbly, they probs could've trimmed a good ten-to-twelve minutes of runtime, and there's a side character who blips on the scene that was poorly cast as his lack of prowess sludges up the vibe (charismatic, he ain't, maybe he's somebody's spouse *ahem*), but this one's pretty solid, y'all.

It's called "Every Other Christmas", starring Schuyler Fisk, on Lifetime Movie Network - it just premiered the other night, apparently, so with rebroadcasts you should have plenty of opportunity to catch it.

Okay, back to the shmaltz.

My dearest:

[cue old-timey, slightly depressing instrumental courtesy of rickety fiddles; narration by Ken Burns]

Exposition anvils continue to drop from the sky with abandon, though I’ve not succumbed to my injuries, have no fear.

Alicia Witt was lovely in something about a novelist who was rejected by both successful novelist boyfriend and publisher, but then meets very successful other novelist who is hiding the fact that he is such. I only caught the last quarter. Disappointed in lack of fanfic about novelists. I tire of writing “novelist”.

Our regiment (myself, General Pup, and Lieutenant Pup) is currently surrounded by a tale of a stewardess who has gotten entangled with a dude whose daughter she was in charge of because unaccompanied minor on flight. Dude is the lead from “That Thing You Do”, he was the next Tom Hanks before Colin Hanks got old enough to fill that role. I am saddened this dude has not gotten mucho awards. None of this matters.

I am more of the sads that the flufferfic-ers have not stalked and mauled and chewed on the carcass of the premise of Whyenne being a flight attendant who captures Dean’s heart when she captures his vomit during a flight to wherever to do something. Or, scratch that; she magically cures him of his fears with her enchanted hoo-hah, because that’s how phobias work. And assuming there’s plot, the hunt for the whatever can take place on the plane, like that Harrison Ford movie or that Jodie Foster movie or that Kurt Russell movie. It would have to be a big-ass plane. They could still bang in the bathroom, even though there’s plenty of places to go.

I have no more plot to give, I am exhausted and according to the thing, you know, the thingy that tells what’s on next, there’s no restorative Candace Cameron in the near future. I may have to settle for one of the Duff sisters.

David Haydn-Jones remains elusive.

General Pup is barking orders. I must end here. Ever yours - Nash. #send vodka

[Transferred 2nd post]

Report from the front line:

There’s been a Denise Richards bakery-related jam. Also a Lacey Chabert - who is a baker - jam. The first had a Christmas cookie contest, the latter a gingerbread competition. Not to be confused. Something with people I’ve never seen before in my life just started, about a big CEO and a bakery. Candace Cameron was in another one, and though it’s bakery-free, those are all starting to blend together.

Send rations.

[Transferred 1st post]

I have felt like garbage and been homebound for two days, and then today (oh blessed event, and I am dead serious, I love it) the onslaught of Fanfic Movie Time has begun, a.k.a. Totes Ridiculous Christmas Situation Lurve-Conflict-Lurve Movie Season on Lifetime/Hallmark/that other network I can never remember the name of, and due to foggy brain I got sucked in. There was a king and ice skating, something about Louisiana with JDM’s wife where everybody’s hair looked horrendous, and then another one with Candace Cameron in Alaska. It was great. Legit. I haven’t laughed as hard. It helped me cough up disease. #bless you Candace

#Nash Watches and Rates #Cheesy Winter Movies #so you don't have to #Cheesy Movie Talk #Not SPN #though sometimes #SPN Tangentially #Back to our #regularly scheduled #programming shortly #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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regrettablewritings · 6 years

Text

The Devil’s Advocacy (Slight Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

A/N:*casually publishes piece that’s been in her drafts for eons that honestly should’ve been done during Pride Month and in celebration of the fact that Lucifer got saved but she kept procrastinating, and is using the excuses that every month is pretty gay #20gayteen and that Tessa Thompson coming out calls for the elongating of the month*

The TV shows, movies, and music videos had it all wrong: There was absolutely nothing glamorous about going to a club to drink away your sorrows. Or maybe the problem was that you weren’t doing it right. That was honestly very likely; these types of places weren’t really your scene. And frankly you were probably kidding yourself by choosing to give your patronage to one of the more upscale clubs in LA rather than one of the much cheaper (yet arguably unsafe) bars that otherwise riddled the rest of the area.

And yet, you wanted to believe that you deserved Lux-level drinking. Or rather, you needed to (so your mind told you): You’d endured enough crap for the day, and there was no point in worsening your already glum mood by grabbing a sip at, say, the Swill Trough eleven blocks over. Though, as you sat in the seductively lit establishment, surrounded by the gyrating bodies of clubgoers and their voices which blared over the bass-heavy thud of the music, you were beginning to question your decision. Not necessarily regret it, per se, but perhaps mull over it. The $10 vodka-infused Shirley Temple you'd been nursing for the past half hour wasn’t even doing much for you, the ice having long since diluted the liquor. Though, at this point, did you even want to get drunk anymore? You weren’t entirely sure. Probably not, to be perfectly frank.

A decently loud yet still logical enough side of you figured that the least you could do was finish it and then decide what your next move was. But alas, with every sip, no thoughts were coming to mind. And you really didn’t want to go home just yet . . .

A glimpse at the clock on your phone had you deciding that two and a half hours probably wasn’t enough time for your mother to calm down from whatever breed of hysterics she’d risen to since you’d left. But then, it was also too much time to be sulking in such an environment – that was better suited for one of the aforementioned holes-in-the-wall.

You hummed a singular note as you brought your drink to your lips. Maybe I should go to the Swill Trough, you half-heartedly mused. Maybe then I’ll start feeling that “drink away your sorrows” crap.

“You know, most people would come to a club looking for a good time. At the very least, Lux has never been a place to disappoint. Is there perhaps any way that I might . . . better your experience?” The voice didn’t so much break your thoughts as it did manifest as fingers that curled around them with mischievous intent. Perhaps it was because it was soaked with seductive intent. Or perhaps it was because it the type of British accent it was delivered in was almost always used by tricksters in fantasy movies: Elegant, suave, but actually a sleazeball.

Good god, this man must’ve come from across the pond to hit on “easy American girls.”

Eyes rolling, you forced yourself to turn around, fully prepared to tell the guy that now really wasn’t the time to attempt innuendo with you . . . only to learn that he didn’t quite look like the sleazy, try-hard trickster archetype you’d pictured in your head. In fact, at the very least he could tricked you out of your clothes if you were in the right mood.

Though frankly, you almost forgot what kind of mood you were in for the few seconds it took for you to fully ingest the vision before you: Glossy hair, neatly combed back; dark eyes that gleamed with a vigor you had never quite seen in another person before; a finely-carved out nose, right above a smile that was equal parts flirtatious and intimidating. Though, not in a predatory way that one might find on most men in the Los Angeles area; if anything, it appeared to be powered by sheer cockiness. And considering the clearly bespoke suit the stranger wore, he had every reason to exude such levels of esteem. Maybe he was a hotshot lawyer or a doctor or something?

Whatever the case, he was, simply put, quite possibly the prettiest man you had ever seen – and that was saying something in a town bustling with men constantly undergoing procedures, diets, and fashion statements in order to peacock themselves! He was like the prime example of the sort of person your mother would’ve wanted you to meet – Oh, yeah.

In an instant, you remembered what mood you had been in. Your body responded accordingly with you shoulders slumping somewhat and your eyes perhaps flickering with diminished interest.

“Sorry,” you apologized despite personally feeling no reason to. “Kind of having a rough night.” You inwardly cringed, realizing the door you had just opened of your own admission. Tall, dark, and handsome seemed to take notice.

“Yes, well,” he prompted, “isn’t that all the more reason to stop sulking at the bar like some –” he waved a hand aimlessly at you in search of the right words. “– dockworker undergoing a midlife crisis. You’re young, you’re supposed to be carefree, taking life by the balls!” Truly, the vigor in his eyes was no lie; the amount of passion he had by simply suggesting you grab life by the proverbial testicles was honestly astounding even in your somber state.

“At the very least, you should be out grabbing somebody’s balls,” he muttered. “Looks like it might do you some good.” And with a sip of his own glass of high-end bourbon, any semblance of admiration for his zest that you had had died in a blazing ball of death.

“Excuse me?” you demanded, renewed with your own fire. In spite of the fury you had attempted to carry in your voice and glare, Tall, Dark, and Handsome did not appear to be fazed. If you had a moment to stop and think, you would have taken it to wonder just how often he’d found himself in like situations.

“I mean no offense to you, it’s just that you’re sort of existing in your own little depressing corner of the world and you look like you could use a pick-me-up. Or, in this context, a prick-me-up.” He arched a brow and kept that cocky smile still intact. If you hadn’t spent $10 on it, you would’ve been even more tempted to fling your drink into Tall, Dark, and Asshole’s face.

“Well, excuse me for daring to enter one of LA’s many clubs with the audacity of not wanting to snort coke off a hooker’s bellybutton and take a cop car on a joyride!” you uttered through gritted teeth.

“Not snort coke? You’re either no fun at all or in a bad mood,” TDA scoffed. “Either way, no coke tonight, love, I just had some the other day and a dear friend of mine is still on my ass about it. Though, speaking of, I could get you that joyride, free of charge with an optional and highly recommended other type of ride.”

You. Wanted. To. Scream. Pretty or not, he was getting on one of the already halved nerves that you had remaining. You wanted to scream and fling your drink at him – at anyone, really – and keep screaming until everything was out. Not just everything about this but everything from earlier, everything about your mom, everything about you –

But all you had the energy to do was turn away from the gadfly beside you and stop just short of slamming your face onto the counter of the bar. The exhaustion of performing as a human soda bottle was too much; you had to just let yourself sit there and let the inward stress fizzle out. Even though it would most certainly return, by TDA’s means or worse.

Had your eyes been kept on the man, however, you would have noticed that disgustingly charming smile of his begin to falter away.

“Oh dear, you must really not be in a great mood. That last bit usually piques some type of interest . . .” In your bitterness, you nearly dared to consider his newfound tone as one of genuine sympathy. In fact, it very well may have been, if not for your inability to convince yourself. At this point, you were sincerely prepared to abandon your drink and trudge back out into the stinking streets of the city. You weren’t sure if wallowing around would do your perception of the day any good, but you were very certain that staying here and being pestered by some smug prettyboy definitely wouldn’t do you any good.

But before you could even muster the strength to remove yourself from your barstool, the man continued, “Look: Emotions aren’t really my bag, usually I just focus on the more . . . superficial things.” At this moment, your brows furrowed. What did he mean by “superficial”? In spite of how slowly you did so, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning your gaze back to TDA.

“But,” he continued, setting his glass down on the counter, “it’s never been much of my style to necessarily leave a pretty lady in my establishment unsatisfied. So!” He leaned in, that smile leaking back onto his annoyingly handsome features.

“What do you want? What is it you truly desire?”

Normally, when a person is asked this, they will feel a flurry of thoughts and temptations. They may feel put off by the nosiness of such a question. Perhaps they might feel indifference or even eagerness to share what they had to say. Or maybe they would feel a spike of anxiety at the sudden presentation of such a potentially life-searching query. After all, what one responds with could easily say everything or all the wrong things about a person – and not everybody wants even the former.

Some might know exactly what their deepest desire was but feel compelled to hide it away out of shame or simply wanting to keep to themselves. Others wouldn’t offer an answer simply because they didn’t have one. Because to boil down the endless possibilities each individual wants into a simple, single sentence is very often impossible to do when one lives to want more than what they can have at that moment.

In your case, you were startled by the sudden question, as any person in their right mind would be upon receiving it from a stranger, no matter how good-looking he may be. And yet, as your eyes so much as entered the same line of his gaze, they were held there. It didn’t matter you’re your face was sparking from the inside with blush as you felt yourself staring into the twinkling eyes of this gorgeous stranger. All you wanted to do – all you could do – was keep staring into those deep, dark pools.

And just as soon as you had, it was as if you were no longer entirely in control of yourself, much less a part of your own mind and body. It wasn’t quite an out-of-body experience, but it certainly felt peculiar to say the least. As though the metaphorical hands from earlier had managed to manifest somewhere deep within the crevices of your mind, caressing with delicate but attentive fingers to find exactly what they were looking for with every intention of bringing whatever it found to the forefront of your mind.

Your voice and mouth moved of their own accord, your brain sluggishly scrambling to make sense of it all. “I . . . I want . . .”

“Yes?” the stranger coaxed, his tone enticingly perverse and eager as he cling to your every syllable.

“I want . . . things to be okay,” you blurted. And just like that, you could feel yourself slingshotting back into your senses. Almost as if you had woken up from a dream you hadn’t been entirely invested in or even fully asleep for. As you blinked with rapid succession, coming to grips with what you had just confessed, the man reeled in from his leaning position. His face seemed, in a phrase, somewhat disappointed.

“Well, that’s awfully vague,” he said.

You felt your cheeks burning. You weren’t entirely sure what to say to that; he had a point after all. Everybody wants things to be okay, but it was their own personal situations that defined what “okay” meant.

As you began to sink into a state of reverie, you couldn’t help but pick up on small but nonetheless present cues from the man. He was preparing to leave you with your thoughts. Logically, this was what you wanted. However, this wasn’t what you told yourself you wanted. For whatever reason, in spite of what all had just transpired between the two of you, you wanted him to stay. To clear whatever air might not have even existed in that moment.

He wasn’t looking into your eyes, inducing that previous state of hypnosis when you found your next words tumbling from your mouth: “I came out to my mom as bi.”

You paused. You considered whatever you’d been attempting to do successful as TDA paused and set his sights back on you. The previous look of slight disappointment had been completely replaced with one of

“Sexual. Bisexual,” you clarified. It felt weird saying it out loud. Or maybe it was because it was being said to a complete stranger. Speaking of which, why were you saying even that? Was the alcohol actually strong enough after all? Was he really that charming that you were willing to confess that just to get him to keep from walking away? If anything, blurting out that sort of thing would have the opposite effect!

Right now, your newest, deepest desire had become to take the drink in your hand and smash the glass against your head, hopefully killing you instantly.

To your surprise, however, the stranger didn’t seem put off one bit by your confession. If anything, his brows had risen along with a smile. He actually looked . . . pleased? Possibly even impressed!

“Really? Good for you, welcome to the club!” he cheered. The excitement, to your befuddlement, was genuine. “We’ve got leather jackets, and then we’ve got suit jackets such as mine for those who know better.”

You couldn’t help but scoff in place of the coy chuckle you’d meant to give off. “At least you’re taking it well.”

“Oh, what, did some Bible Bob have an actually accurate gaydar – or I guess bi-fi in this case? Call you out on the streets?” TDA leaned forward once more with renewed enthusiasm. His voice lowered in an attempt to contain the obvious excitement present. “Did you dump a guy and then get with his superior-in-the-sack twin sister?”

“Nah,” you shook your head. Part of you told you to leave it at that. But another part of you told you you were already in too deep; you might as well come completely clean.

“My mom,” you said before stopping. Was this too much? No . . . No, you were still sore from earlier; you had every right to vent out just as everybody else in this place probably would over dumber things. “My mom, she . . . Like, she didn’t take it well.” At the vagueness of your statement, the stranger’s expression fell once more. Only it wasn’t one of disappointment or even precociousness. You were surprised to find that he was capable of creating such a stern expression. Surprised and frightened, to be more precise.

His aura, previously exuding an energy of life, now seemed to throb with something more tense. From the way his features seemed to darken and tighten, you could tell he was threatening disgust. Not only that, but it was a disgust that some part of you for whatever reason feared the most.

“Did she kick you out?” he asked, his voice sounding restrained in an attempt to handle the question with fragility.

“No! No… I mean…She just didn’t take it well.” You attempted to handle your words with as best of care as you could. You weren’t even certain what exactly you were afraid the man would do, considering he didn’t even know your mother or who you even were. But something about the way he’d composed himself at even the slightest hint of injustice made something within you curdle. You awkwardly shrugged in an effort to alleviate the foul mood.

“She kinda just stood there. Eyes got a little less focused. And she went all quiet . . . When I tried speaking, she just said she needed a moment to think about it. But think about what!? I’m bi, simple as that! . . . I mean, it’s NOT simple but – ” You groaned as you watched your efforts collapse with every utterance you made. Pressing a hand to your forehead in surrender, you sighed.

“I mean, I guess I should feel grateful that it’s just that. I know I should. But, like?” Your brow creased the harder you ran your thoughts. “I didn’t hurt anyone, it’s not like I just confessed to killing somebody and I needed her help hiding the body. I didn’t do anything shameful, I just told her something about me. It’s not fair to feel like crap for something that wouldn’t hurt anyone. So why do I feel awful for it?”

“Personal decision, from what I’ve observed,” TDA stated bluntly. That earned him an incredulous look from you.

“No, really,” he insisted. “It’s the same type of guilt that keeps somebody looping through their own personal Hell: They have opportunities and the tools to rid themselves of the guilt they imagine is there. They just have to let themselves have it.”

You never broke your stare; only adjusted it to express the confusion you now had. What was this weirdo going on about?

“I mean, look at me,” he grinned as he gestured to himself. “I have nary a regret about my bedmates and here I am, free as a horny bird!”

You made the decision to not compute those last two words. “Did your folks kick you out when you told them?” you inquired without thinking.

“Oh, no,” he responded immediately. In fact, he almost sounded surprised that you would ask such a thing. “Well, they did kick me out. My dad did. But it was for totally unrelated reasons, I can assure you.” He raised his glass to his lips. “Probably wishes that it was just my sexuality, though.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, though you weren’t sure what gave you validation to do so. You brought this upon yourself, whatever it was. You weren’t sure what exactly you were expecting from any of this or where you wanted this to go but at this point, it seemed to be heading closer and closer toward a whirlpool of small talk and emptiness. And realistically, it should be. Realistically, this had to end with the man getting bored or getting distracted by some other, more fulfilling (and dress-filling) chick ready to get boozed up and have a good time. And, realistically, you were going to be left alone once more, unsatisfied for receiving something you weren’t even aware you were searching for. You would gulp down your drink (which was probably so diluted that it was mostly an aqueous Shirley Temple) and, with no other plans, force yourself to head back home where your mother would still probably be thinking about your bisexuality. And she, too, would be unable to offer you whatever it was you wanted.

The stream of thoughts must’ve leaked into your features so fluidly that TDA, in his resumed cockiness, managed to capture their meanings before you even had a chance to realize that they were there to begin with.

It was a low sigh that managed to break you out of your mulling. It was a sound you could tell he didn’t make very often.

“Look,” he said. “Did you hurt anyone? As in, beyond petty vengeance or whatever it is?”

You shook your head. “No . . .”

He went on, “Are you using your bisexual powers for good i.e. having mountain-moving, mind-blowing sex with other consenting adults?”

Half a smirk managed to slip through your wall of worries at the wording of his statement. You really shouldn’t have had any semblance of surprise at this point but you still found yourself amused by the tonal shift.

“I mean, I haven’t been sexually active or anything,” you said, voice wavering with the threat of chortling. “But I’m not using it for, like, not good.”

“And do you have any plans to go out into the streets, promenading about your bed life once it does finally kick in?” he grinned teasingly.

“God, no!” You messed up: The smile broke completely free of your toothy hold on it.

“Don’t bring him into this,” TDA said almost warningly. “Though, you really are no fun,” he muttered with a smile. Before you could snap at him, he interrupted with, “Either way, congratulations, young lady: you’re in my father’s hands.” You couldn’t help but notice a node of sarcasm beneath the statement.

“That being said, you’re the goody-good bi type – more specifically, you’re good and just so happen to be bi. The only punishments you ought to be getting are weird, kinky ones, that is, if you were actually any fun. So enough with this whole self-induced guilt cycle, you’re bumming me out just watching you bum yourself out over this!”

You weren’t entirely sure what to respond to or how. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem at all. If anything, you ought to be more ashamed by wasting your potential: Twice the options in love and sex means twice the fun! If you’ve never thought of it that way then I strongly suggest you start getting out more; maybe relieving yourself of the constant presence of the overthinking mother might do you some good. You shouldn’t let other people determine how you should feel or how you present yourself. Don’t be a plaything in their little play – Go out there: make your own story! Preferably one featuring lots of experimenting and, I don’t know, actually having fun with it.”

“You do realize that by that principle, I shouldn’t be trusting you, right?” you said, smirk entirely full at this point. TDA, however, appeared to be unfazed.

“True as that may be, I can assure you that you can trust me on this one. I’m not going to lie and say any of it’ll be easy but what I can do is tell you that I’ve seen some pretty pathetic sentient garbage passing for humans in my life. Not being straight doesn’t even put you close to that. It’s not necessarily who you are or what your desires are, it’s what you do with them. And clearly, you’re doing nothing with them at all to warrant such a self-defeating mindset.”

As he said this, you couldn’t help but feel as though there were an extra layer to what this dark-haired man was telling you. It was only further assisted by the fact that he didn’t quite look at you until he’d completed his final sentence. If anything, he appeared to have been reminiscing about something; likely those sentient pieces garbage. You were beginning to wonder about them yourself when he finally broke his wistful stare and redirected those stunning, dark eyes back upon you.

“You know,” he lifted his drink back up, “it’s never too soon or too late to start rewriting yourself. There’s plenty of me-approved debauchery around here that I could recommend for you.” Had you not been paying close enough attention, this man’s word choice could easily thrown you off. But as you found yourself maintaining eye contact (through no small feat of your own, frankly), you couldn’t help but share the glance. You felt something in that moment, only it wasn’t anything like the bizarreness that had occurred before. You didn’t feel hands picking gracefully through your mind and you didn’t feel words forming against your own will. You didn’t feel uncomfortable at all in spite of how flustered you were beginning to feel for staring at such a beautiful man.

You felt . . . welcome. You felt open, but willingly. You felt that goal from earlier in the night returning: That belief that since you’d had a bad day, you deserved to treat yourself to the fullest extent. It started to spark back to life and began to sway and grow with interest – and then it stopped. Because you realized that there was another feeling you had kicking around inside of you. One that surprised even you.

“It’s tempting. Really, it is. I think,” you informed. “But actually . . . I think I just wanna go home.” You didn’t think. You just knew. It was strange, but the thought of going home just felt right. Clearly, you weren’t alone in your surprise. TDA leaned backward slightly as if physically moved by your decision. His perfectly arched brows raised with curiosity.

“Really?” TDA questioned. “Are you sure?”

You nodded once. Pause. Two much more certain nods. “Yeah, I think so. I just . . . I dunno, I think I just need to talk to her now. Maybe help her with that ‘thinking.’” The corner of one eye creased as a closed but understanding smirk formed on the man’s features.

“Well,” he said, “personally that isn’t the first move I would’ve done in the process of embracing myself. But then that’s not my choice is it?” You returned the smile.

“Nope,” you agreed, gently pushing your abandoned drink away from you. It was no good to you anyway.

“Oh, and before I forget,” he said as you began to get up, “it’s occurred to me that in all the drama I never got to catch your name. How rude of me.” He offered you his hand. You took it. You shouldn’t have been too surprised by how soft it was, given how he appeared to be the sort to manscape and take deep pride in his looks, yet you still were.

“(Y/N).” Your introduction earned you a grin and nod of acceptance from your shaking partner.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he said. It sounded like silver and silk slinking along polished ebony wood.

It was a pretty name if odd. A pretty odd name, befitting of the pretty and odd man who bore it. However, you had no time to inquire about its origin as you felt the man raising your hand, still in his own, until it was within inches of his lips.

“Well, Ms. (Y/N),” Lucifer Morningstar murmured, the warmth of his breathe tickling the back of your hand. “I wish you the best.”

His lips had to have been the softest thing to have ever come into contact with your skin, let alone your knuckles.

You could feel the heat from his lips travel through your hand, up your arm, and all the way into your face. It took everything in you not to bolt up from your seat like a madwoman and scramble out the door before he could study your features long enough to determine that you were blushing.

“T-thank you,” you found yourself stammering. “It means a lot to me. Really. Everything.” You attempted to continue smiling, but the flustered state that Lucifer’s gesture had put you in made you far too wobbly all over to sustain anything better than an awkwardly enforced grin. Not for any sense of rudeness, you cumbersomely attempted to make quick work of your exit. However, the effort was lessened by one last interruption.

“Oh, and one more thing:,” Lucifer stated. You paused and forced yourself to look upon him one last time. “If you’re ever looking for a place to stay, I have the names of two lovely ladies and one piece of spawn who would be blessedly willing to take you under their wings. . . . Well, one of them probably would. Can’t say the same for the other. In fact, I may have to warn you about that she’d likely more so want to take you under herself and completely ruin that who ‘use your powers of sex for good’ thing.

“Though, of course –” He propped himself leniently against the bar, that mischievous smile from the very beginning back in place “ – if you’re ever interested, my doors are always open.”

Your eyes narrowed but they were betrayed by an amused scoff.

“Thanks,” you responded dryly. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you so much, Lucifer.”

He raised his glass to you in a gesture.

“Anytime, love.”

And off you went.

You didn’t realize you were still smiling until you had already exited Lux. It was certainly a major shift from the way you’d been when you first entered it. Admittedly, there was still some anxiety left bubbling around inside of you but that was to be expected. After all, there was always a hint of nervousness that accompanied the decision to take one’s own life and make it their own by their own set of rules.

You were certain that that applied even to the likes of Lucifer Morningstar.

Speaking of, you were quite surprised by the level of his incite. Perhaps it was your fault for buying into the stereotypes, but you had truthfully just assumed that with a face like that, he couldn’t have had much more than sex, drugs, and hedonism on the brain. And while, yes, it was true that those took up much of the mental property in the man’s mind, it was quite refreshing and even downright charming that he at least managed to translate to you something you had never gotten around to considering before.

You hummed thoughtfully.

Lucifer was a nice guy. You wanted to see him again. Maybe not to take up any of his offers (which honestly seemed a bit too bold for you at the moment), but just to see what other surprising features he had about him.

Lucifer watched your figure weave around the clubbers until it disappeared from his sight.

He felt quite proud of himself. Perhaps this was the sort of philanthropy Linda had told him to try exercising.

It wasn’t even necessarily that he felt nice about being nice; he just enjoyed the feeling of breaking the metaphorical chains off of a “baby bi” and encouraging her to embrace her identity. The rest was up to her now that he’d sent (Y/N) out into the wild world. In a vein similar to that of a person seeing their friend off after a rousing pep talk (but with double the vanity), he couldn’t help but imagine all the possibilities that would become available to the young lady once she began to embrace herself without guilt or question: The places she would go, the events she would attend, the wider selection of people to be with and the subsequent things they might try out –

At that moment, Lucifer felt his smile falter. Crap. Crap! He’d gotten so wound up in setting a poor soul off on their own journey of free will that he’d forgotten the very reason he came over in the first place!

Note to self: Stop trying to be so nice and helpful. Nice guys don’t get laid.

#Lucifer is by far the hardest character I've ever had to write for #who knew #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer imagine #lucifer imagines #lucifer morningstar x reader #regrettablewritings #holy shit this is godawful and a terrible way to pop this blog's Lucifer Cherry #maybe i'll try redoing this again but for now #you're just as stuck with this as I am

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the-firebird69 · 3 years

Text

Willy's Tropical Breeze Cafe

(352) 596-0700

We're going to set up here and get some permits and we're going to try and do it now I'm going to get a bunch of both down there too A whole bunch of grip a pile that do races and everything we need all the big wigs to get help us get pyramids it's a little early so we got that instead of Shirley Temple except thing that you wake up with V8 plus vodka we have our own version of both so if you want to come down you can do that and help us get permits

Hera Zues

I'm there I'm going to go before everybody else and have the drink and I'm going to get the permits going

Joe m

You can't get anything going permits or anything just an idiot but that's fine it's good to watch and film and tell people about

Preston

So can we go down there early we're going to go around poke around and look at things point out things and people can't figure out people call me an a****** it looks like I'm getting something done

Zues

Hahaha very funny I'm going to go down there and start things off I got to try to get permits they probably won't be able to list Max in there I'll go down eff it up

Joe m

We're going to prevent that from happening make sure it goes don't go down there and get my free drink

Tommy f

Yeah keep in mind some of you that I was drinking all your beer and stuff from college and other things even that Jack Daniels

Zues

We're going in there and we're going to drink as much as we can is drinking all my beer all the time

Bja

You drink a ton of my alcohol once I look around and said where the hell is it this is going to have drank it

Daniel

Used to drink my alcohol the only song like five times at parties seen him around quite a bit but actually I saw a lot more than five parties but okay he drank all of it all of it whatever you got he drank I like two cases you went through half of it one case himself so wondering why he doesn't drink no because he's drinking and it gives him power cuz it's preservative some people want to drinking because their whimps there

So I'm going down there to get my free drink I'm going to help get permits and stuff like that going and get the race set up and then I'll make it work and he agrees I know how to do that stuff

We're going to have a lot of fun I'm going to try and get down there and try and get the permits going I can't really do it but I'm going to try we'll set it up like it should be for professional race we'll get everybody down there

Gaga yellow and bloody Mary I'm trying to get mary on there and hand out the bloody Marys and yes the one from HMC

You can go down there and make sure the permitting process is started nothing I can get it done or anything I don't think even Dave from my office can do that no he can't

Trump

There's nobody around here that can get anything done even him we're going to go down there and try and get a free drink it's a bloody Mary it's made with a V8 type thing or juices and vodka some expecting that might ask for two shots to the one or double whatever they do

Ken

That's great can you be drunk when you're out with him watching a movie what else you want drunk driving charge

Hera

That's it we're there you're causing it

Ken

That's what you say I told him and he says that you tried doing it to him for a while now you're submissive and you just don't say anything

Hera

That's funny say this barrel of a guy that just goes rolling around over you get out of the way it's kind of a meanie too I didn't see what you're saying it's also an Emperor

Ken

Like I said we're going down there Preston's one pushed me to do it you're a retard f**** Preston

Joe m

F*** you Joe I'm sitting on my wife it's not my sister I think Jesus she's not even related you little a****** where is he I don't know I'm wrestling a boa

. Oh my God she might be the one who murderer maybe not the snake died too that's terrific that's terrific she has information oh boy I'm going down there and get that it's my favorite drink too bloody Mary it would be

Preston

Okay okay I'll work on purpose I can usually get it done tell me if it's helping mike tea ons of people now we'll get it done we're going to have that race. wants BG to race for him so he can get a room. You can't allow that but we can allow it for a lowrider hard knock so he agrees and see if and I'll subsidize it

Mac

Second charity race we're all going to kind of pitch in for it even though the real cheap and still have to takes energy I want My bloody Mary said she's going to be there in a minute setting up but I know if you set up they will come just like Wendy's so she's going to go down there

Gaga

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years

Text

Life Story Part 62

When I left the alt. school, I took with me three books unintentionally from the school – which turned out being great for me, and it probably didn't hurt the school too much (in any case I went back and returned them a year later). The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter, The Painted Bird, and Native Son. In a way, I look back at these three books as having a very big impact on who I am, and I suppose it's in part because I think these books are fantastic and in part because books in general were replacing contact with other people. But a lot of my later insight was built off the ideas of the books I read for these years of my life They are hard to put into words. They effected my psychologically.

I was taken to go get my GED – so at least I would have that. I figured it would be easy enough. They in later years set up the tests a lot harder with mandatory classes you had to take for about four months, but when I got my GED it was definitely easy. I arrived early at the LCSC college, was taken down long confusing downstairs twisty college hallways. Most of the rooms were empty and silent. I wondered what schools did with all these empty rooms and facilities. I suppose they all serve a function and may not always be empty, but they were that morning. I was put into the room they had mistakenly thought I was supposed to go to – and then twenty minutes in they realized I was not there for the courses. I was there to test out and I was in the wrong room. So I was lead into a room where I now had fifteen minutes to finish mathematics testing that I should have had all that other time I wasted in the other room for. Fortunately, I finished and passed it. Not with flying colors mind you, but it got finished. The rest of the tests were essentially basic grammar and being able to assess information that you read tests. I made a day of it, and I got out of there passing. Getting my GED wasn't ideal of course as opposed to a high school diploma, but given the circumstances, I still felt as though I had achieved something. I had at least – some filed away fact about the legitimacy of my basic abilities, and something to show for twelve years of getting up at ungodly hours of the morning to go to school five days a week.

I worried about fighting with my dad. We didn't fight, at least not that fall from what I remember, but I felt especially vulnerable given my new found set of circumstances that basically left me stranded with no future. I no longer had school to go to, or any friends to turn to. The idea of going out and becoming a musician on my own now felt a bit silly. I had to sort of face up to the fact that some of my younger teenage dreams didn't seem quite the same to me as they once had. It felt as though something had come and taken everything away from me. I felt very distant a lot of the time. I felt very alone. In a sense I enjoyed it. At best it had that pleasant tingly feeling of being in a quiet house that has been full of people for several days, and they just left, and now you are alone and you can hear the ticking of the clock and your own heartbeat and everything in the fridge is yours. I guess I was emotionally exhausted. I didn't know who I was really. I mean, I did know to an extent who I was, but I didn't at the same time. This was the first time I think I consciously realized that we can be more than one person when we are by ourselves, if we are with a significant other, coworkers, friends, a grocery store, in a position of authority, with our parents individually and together. I am particularly divided in this regard. There is no telling who I am actually. It can be a little frightening and confusing for me to this day. Identities are very fleeting, but seem very real and unshifting in the ever present moment.

Because of the fact that I was afraid of the emotional violence towards me from my father, I flirted with the idea of moving to my mom's. Allison and David would be left sure, but my mom worked a lot at the nursing home, these really long shifts that nurses sometimes work that are sixteen hours with a small break. I guess there are times when watching over the patients is relatively easy – like you can sit down and stuff, but still – who wants to be at work that long? My mother has/and does volunteer to take absurd amounts of hours whenever she can. She will go several months without a day off at these understaffed facilities. She didn't get paid all that well at the nursing homes she's worked at, but she worked so much that she managed to have money. And when she wasn't working, she was of course doting on her boyfriend Danny. She ended up getting this very cheap rundown apartment on the outskirts of town in some old buildings that were built in the seventies that occasionally got the cops called. It was for the most part quiet. I didn't mind the apartment or the occasional noises of the neighbors, in fact I rather welcomed the sound of people running water. I didn't feel so out of touch or alone. I don't know. The sound of people doing something in the next apartment has always given me this strange tingly sense of comfort.

I would be alone all the time in this apartment when I visited, sometimes for nights on end. There was no internet. We did have about forty channels of cable, most of them totally boring, but seeing as I was raised without television I found it really a step up for me to have it going. I sometimes would watch the History channel when there was history, or I would watch the travel channel or ghost hunting shows. I took a strange comfort in listening to insane religious infomercials in the middle of the night. I surely cannot be the only one that thinks there is something perfectly insane about television. Like, TV rapidly changes the dialogue or the premise for your thoughts. It subconsciously has recreated the thinking patterns of modern man – it's an altered image of our own creating that has taken the reigns and decided to recreate us. The media and it's effect fascinates me. I am not even per say going about that thought on the preconceived notion that television is bad and we should all be doing something else (though we probably should). I am just fascinated about the underlying psychology of it and how mindless it is. It made me feel extremely comfortable and unsettled and mysteriously empty at the same time. I like that madness and I do not.

It was a one bedroom and the bedroom was filled to the top with my mother's boxes – and it would never in my entire time with that place, ever be something you could call a proper bedroom, though people did manage to fit a mattress in there. My mother would sleep on the couch when she was home. She set up a bunk bed in the corner of the living room where I would generally sleep – and Allison and David when they came over. She always blasted the television so loud – and I found that rather frustrating to sleep through. On a good night she would turn it to old movies. So randomly in the night I would hear that old screamy noise from the intense moments of old movies. I would listen to Clark Gable or Bette Davis professing their love, or hear Shirley Temple hear once again that her parent had died and the innocent sobbing that came with that. I rather like old movies and could sleep any old time I wanted now, so it was okay for the most part. But she would also watch Lord of the Rings, and though I sort of like Lord of the Rings okay, it could get a little obnoxious. You would listen to Gimley's lines over and over. How many times did I wake up to Soromon and Gandalf the Grey having it out? She would set it on repeat. I would eventually sneak out of bed and try to turn it off, but as soon as I tried that she would wake up and be cantankerous about it.

I didn't exactly live at my mom's at this point, but I stayed there about half the week most of the time. My father had the internet while my mom did not. My mother didn't even know what the internet was fully, so I could not convince her to spend her money on it. I was mostly divided for this reason. I had to keep up with Sarah and I simply had to tend to my MySpace account. Just thinking of all those MySpace notifications gave me this strong incentive to never want to leave the computer. Having this time to myself though held a lot of value for me as well. It gave me sense of childlike peace I had almost forgot about for the years I had spent in school, living in delirious anger or despair about boys or longing for some big dream of the future. I had forgotten how to enjoy the small details. And in that I had lost my ability to really achieve anything since everything that ends up being big starts out being pretty small. I remember spending hours watching Bob Ross, just like I had when I had been four. I remember Jenni telling me that I was likely going to waste my time when I left school, and maybe she was more right than not, but I had to argue that I needed this time. Or I would listen to Neil Young, who was a new and permanent fixture of my musical existence. I would listen to Down By the River sometimes three or four times in a row. I connected with his guitar style very deeply.

I went to the nursing home with my mom on a couple of occasions. It was a very weird experience. Personal aspects about who my mother actually is to me aside, her working in the kind of jobs that she does really gave me this strong understanding of our society as a whole. Because she worked with the feeble, the mentally disabled, the unstable and the dysfunctional folks that we pay not to see. This is what we do in modern society. We hide it away. Just like we hide from death and decay in most everything we do. It's not something I particularly like to think about either, but we do it to the point of being dishonest with ourselves. We are afraid of it happening to us. I know that European sometimes saw the elderly differently. They were seen as examples of God cursing the wicked, or sometimes those with schizophrenia were seen to be possessed by God, or Lucifer himself. Nazi's would likely have done away with a society that cared for the unwanted and elderly by killing them in many cases had they won World War 2.

I got used to a lot of the elderly patients in the home. The atmosphere in the morning was very strange. These old people were unlike anything I was used to. It fascinated me that they all used to be highschoolers just like I had not long ago been. They had all had lives. And this was the end. One of them would be walking around the room. It would take him forty minutes to make one round. Some of them didn't move or blink anymore. They all seemed highly aware of me though. They all stared at me intently. Their eyes were gleaming with fascination. One old man named Olly who was senile would like his lips sadistically with this mad glint in his eyes as he looked at me. It was the most perverted look I have ever received – but I let it pass realizing his mind was gone. I am sure the teenage Olly would have been horrified by old man Olly's behavior towards women.

There was also an old man named Lou. He had had a stroke that had turned him from a fully functional elderly man who still chopped and brought in his own wood to a sort of vegetable. He would begin speaking randomly in this loud clear voice that was alarming in the quiet room, but it would soon fizzle out into the most insane gibberish I have ever heard. It was language and it was not at the same time. I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of it. It always degraded from gibberish into this weird buzzing noise that didn't sound even human. He would be silent then for five minutes before starting up again. I asked my mom about it, and she didn't seem as curious about what he was trying to say. Maybe I am more curious than most, and she had probably seen a lot of old folks come and go and she was pretty used to it.

Allison sometimes went too, but we always went on separate days. I don't know that the facility really wanted my mother's entire family coming in. Allison made friends with this old woman named Raquel. She didn't understand English, but it didn't particularly matter because she didn't understand very much. Her family did come and see her frequently which was good to see. She was a very sweet lady – though very far gone mentally. She would giggle and clap her hands in delight when Allison even used one or two Spanish words. It was also very easy to make her cry. She was afraid of spoons and nobody knew why. Getting her to eat was a challenge.

The old lady that latched onto me was this ninety five year old ex school teacher from I imagine the thirties through seventies named Jenny. It was amazing to look at her and know she had been around for so long. She had been born before world war one. She had been alive when pictures were black and white, and people danced to Al Bowlly and Glen Miller and stuff like that. I was told that she had been a very strict teacher in her day, and she had been a perfectionist. She first came up to me because she wanted me to straighten things in the room. She had lost most of her clarity and could no longer reason very well or speak very much, but she still knew when something was wrinkled or crooked. She was too old to fix these things herself and they must have constantly been eating at her that she no longer had control to do anything about it. So she came up to me and pointed to the corner of the table. The table cloth that was set up was slightly wrinkled. I went over and straightened it. She then started pointing to other tables, to random things in the room that were ever so slightly askew. If it was reasonable, I would attempt it. Occasionally she would point to someone's shirt, or to something hanging up on the ceiling and I would have to gesture that I couldn't do it.

The one thing I ever heard her say was she started calling this one other older woman who was there fat. It was a bit alarming. Jenny was of course too old to scold. The woman in question was this very obese woman who could no longer stand. She wasn't as old as the others were, but she had nobody to care for her and was eventually taken to this home which I imagine was very hard. Jenny would look at this other woman with this bitterness in her eyes, and she would sort of croak, FAT! And she would point at her as though she expected I might be able to do something about it or I would agree with her. I felt a little sheepish and embarrassed. It amused me though to realize that she had probably been that way her entire life. I imagine she had had this prejudice when she was a capable young school teacher. I stated earlier that identities are fleeting, but at the same time can really stick to our core perceptions of the world. It also was amusing to me, because I generally came in wearing a hoodie, and for that reason I could use my hands in my pockets to stretch the hoodie over my own belly. It seemed that in Jenny's mind, as long as there were no wrinkles in the clothing, and you couldn't see the fat, that therefore meant that there was no fat.

Lastly, there was this quiet mysterious woman who always sat in the corner. I never had any dealings with her directly. She was incredibly tiny. I guess she wasn't that old. She was in her early sixties, however, she had drank her mind away. She had once been a San Francisco hippie, well read with a liberal arts degree. But she couldn't put down the alcohol, and it took her mind away. What was really so shocking about her was that she had this flowing beautiful straight shiny hair without a single bit of gray in it. It looked honestly straight from an ad in a magazine. It would have been striking in a crowd of random people my age, let alone, on this vacant old lady in the nursing home. As far as I know, the only person who ever visited with woman was her ex husband, who would come in sometimes baring flowers.

Honestly, my mother was one of the nicer nurses. I never saw any mistreatment of the older folks who lived here, but there was an impatience in the eyes of most of the orderly. Allison eventually had to stop going because she got openly mad at one nurse who was aggressively and angrily trying to make Raquel eat from the spoon that she was afraid of. She started yelling at Raquel which made Raquel cry and throw herself on the ground. The woman was even angrier then, and she kept shouting at Raquel even though it was clear that Raquel didn't understand and had obviously not chosen this for herself. My mother came over and smoothed it over, but Allison ended up getting in this nurse's grill and it was unsaid after that, but my mom stopped bringing us.

I don't know why at this point my mom was dating Danny still. He was completely degrading. The situation was degrading. I didn't particularly care at this point, but it was degrading to watch. She would sometimes come home drunk, and it just seemed sad. She seemed uncertain if he even loved her or liked her at all. He would do the thing where he pushed her away and insinuate that they were no longer a couple, but then when she gave him space, he would call her up in the middle of the night accusing her of cheating on him. He was still cheating on her when he could get away with it. I sort of wanted to punch him in the face. He was still calling her stupid and gaslighting her. And yet, their meaningless relationship went on and on. I remember once she came to pick Allison and David up on Friday after school to come to her house for the weekend. We went to the store to get our cheap ass dollar store food and cheap ass TV dinners and maybe some cheap ass dollar menu McDonald's (if we were lucky [gross]), and maybe a carton of cheap ass ice cream, and he drove by her house, noticed that the motorcycle helmet he bought her was no longer by her door and accused her of going out on a night ride with some other dude she didn't even know. He kept calling her and demanding she tell him the truth. I felt incensed enough to yell in the background while she was on the phone to confirm that yes, we were with her – it was Friday and that is what we all did on Fridays and in any case it was none of his business. He then accused all of us of being liars.

Soon after this, we were driving her car to go get Allison and David one night. It was getting to be winter yet again and it got dark early. It was pitch black and probably not even eight pm yet. About four miles out of town with all of us in the car, the vehicle broke down in a very inconvenient place. There was nowhere we could legally park where we wouldn't get towed. We were not strong enough to push the car anywhere. My mother didn't have money to pay for someone to tow the vehicle. We were left in this conundrum. We had no one else to call except for Danny. He was amused and mean spirited about it over the phone. He seemed to want to use this as an opportunity to berate my mother on how worthless and stupid she was, which of course pissed me off, but furthermore was not helpful in any way. In an attempt to maybe bypass having to pay a towing company, my mother decided to push the car into gulch on the side of the road. It wasn't that deep, and she figured it would be cheaper to pay to have it towed out of that one area than it would to pay the money it would take to bring it all the way to the place where they take cars, which was quite a ways away. When Danny came to pick us up, he called my mother stupid for having done this. She then began talking in her pathetic baby talk voice, saying she had made a stupid mistake, and she should have not done that. Which Danny then told her was also a stupid idea. Basically, nothing she could have done was right. She apologized for calling him to have us pick us up, which he then humbly told us all was not a problem since he was 'a nice guy'. But then he just continued to berate her about any of the options. It got to the point where she was cornered and no matter which option she chose, she was stupid for it. He had never been quite so open about his psychological abuse around me before this. I had tried to hold my tongue initially. We all just wanted to get home, come what may – but it was getting to the point where I definitely couldn't listen to this anymore, and I was confused in a very technical way of what he was even trying to say logically. So I was like '..So, like, she couldn't just turn the car back on and continue driving. She had few options given the situation. She had those two options pretty much. There were not any better ones. What is it you think she should have done? I don't know what you are trying to say and I don't appreciate how many times you have called her stupid.' He got really annoyed then and sort of backed off. He low key accused us all of 'ganging up on him'. After this, I don't know that I ever had any personal contact with Danny at all, though my mother continued to see him for a time.

My mother ended up having a bunch of legal troubles for her driving. She had driven for years without insurance. She didn't drive horribly, but she wasn't always a decent driver either. It started one night while driving back to Lewiston and there was this sting operation in Lewiston that night, about a month after my mother's vehicle had ended up getting towed regardless. We actually got pulled over for going two miles over the speed limit. It was more or less some excuse to pull everyone over. People were getting pulled over left and right and searched. There were a bunch of state police driving about. She not only didn't have proof of insurance on her, but she also didn't have her license on her at the time. My mother seems to not understand cops very well. She started telling the cop about how she was divorced and had to find work that she could barely feed us with on the weekends, and how she worked in nursing homes and had two older daughters and grandchildren and on and on.

The cop looked at her blankly and bored, with no interest in her life story. I was a bit embarrassed for her actually since he wasn't going to let her off on the basis of anything related to her life as it was. He stated that he would have thrown her in jail if she hadn't had me, David and Allison with her. He wrote her up heavily. He then demanded that I get out of the car to be searched. I don't know that I would have minded on the account that I had nothing on me – though, on looking back. I don't trust that he might have slipped something on me. It would have been highly unlikely, but you never know. Fortunately for me, my mother started getting mad and telling him he was not allowed to search me. I was her daughter and he needed to leave me alone. He was caught off guard, his attitude softened and he complied. So we had to take a taxi home. Which ended up being really awful, because when we were nearly at the apartment, she realized she had left the apartment key and her wallet in her car that she needed to pay the taxi, so we ended up driving all the way back to the car. It costed sixty or seventy dollars.

She ended up driving anyway, and getting pulled over three times. The cop who kept pulling her over liked her car, and wanted her to sell it to him and kept asking every time, so she stood out like a sore thumb when she was commuting. Her fines were enormous. Then she got a DUI from her drives home from the bar. Which I actually did understand since driving drunk is legitimately awful and dangerous. She eventually started walking home or getting rides which was good I guess. She tried to fight the DUI given she wasn't that high over the legal limit. In her fantastical silly vision of the world, she took this fighting back against her DUI as some kind of courtroom drama where she was going to change history by proving to the courts that the cops were corrupt for collecting money from DUI's and she was innocent and not even drunk. Which didn't work out. All told, I believe she was pulled over in one year period about ten times. Eventually, she got her license back and was insured. But it was a time consuming costly ordeal to say the least. I was in the car with her about six times when it happened, so I started wondering if I was bad luck.

When we weren't getting pulled over, or she was not working, we would sometimes drive up these strange roads that paralleled the Washington side of the Snake River till the sun would go down. In this really hard to describe way, my mother and I have some core similarities even though we function and express ourselves differently. It's not in how we talk (I don't see a lot of my behaviors being all that similar to hers), but I think in an inner self kind of way – like that part of us that exists before there are words to describe it. Like, I can tell that when she looks into the distance at a sunset, she gets that same sparkly delusional romanticism about life that I do. She has the same needs to express herself and live on a certain vibration that is hard for people to understand, feels suppressed by the world – much like I do. And I feel this wasn't something she raised me to be. We didn't do much talking growing up. Like, there is some kind of inner delusional traits that are similar enough to mention. It must be genetic. So even though I know there are elements to my mother that make her a truly awful person – I can't help but feel that kinship. I know what it's like to be one of our kind.

During these mini road trips, she would always want to listen to this Eagles Greatest Hits tape on the tape deck of the van she was driving (she avoided driving her white Camaro now at all costs). I would sing along even though I have never been quite sure how to feel about the Eagles. On one hand, there is something incredibly cheesy about them. On the other hand, I associate them with a certain love I have for the area I grew up and all the good times I have had with my mother. I hate the culture as well as all the limitations of growing up where I did, but there is a certain love I have for the mountains and greenery of northern Idaho and the dry eastern Washington deserts, the dingy gas stations, the quiet streets at night, the rivers. The sky looks different somehow in every area you are in. I don't know why. Both of us were terrible singers, but it almost made it even funner and I will admit that I never tried to sing well in these situations. One time, skip to years later, we were singing You're So Vain by Carly Simon which was on the radio and for some reason I had a tape recorder in the car with us, and we decided to tape record ourselves singing, just the two of us. So we drove around just singing our hearts out, and we eventually ended up in some strange dead end part of Clarkston. We stopped at an empty church parking lot to listen back to our singing, and though we knew it was going to be bad, neither of us even imagined just how much worse it was than even our lowest of expectation. We both shrieked, and decided to never tell anyone what we had created. This is the first time I have ever mentioned it to anyone as a matter of fact.

I still spent a good deal of time at my father's however. Allison and I would share a bed to stay warm in the winter nights, and we would often talk till midnight or later. I ended up finding The Kink's album, The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society, and I adored that album, and grew over time to absolutely fucking adore The Kinks as well. It's unnecessary to make this some kind of contest since they are both decent, but The Kinks were so much better than what they ever got credit for. They were theatrical, experimental, I felt that they stayed decent a lot longer than any of the solo Beatles did – or the Rolling Stones. This isn't to say that the Rolling Stones and the Beatles don't deserve their due, but – had the Kinks not been banned from America for inciting a riot I feel like they would be remember with a lot more clarity for much more than just 'You Really Got Me'.

I would space off a lot and a part of me felt like I was almost living a double life. One side of me was here in the present, eating saltines, feeling poor, dirty, futureless, postmodern without prospects, lost and defining myself only by the past and if I let myself think about it – which I did everything I could not to – completely and totally unlovable and pointless in a very fundamental way where every breath I took seemed totally wasted. But there was this other version of me that lived in the 60's. I liked listening to older music, to Bob Dylan and others. I would reminisce about Woodstock when I most certainly was never there in any fashion. I would imagine a world where the late 70's, 80's, 90's and 00's had never happened at all. I tried to experience what living in that new reality of the 60's must have been like. I suppose I grasped the spirit of it to a certain extent. Though in reality obviously, I was never there, and I was/am very much a person from the age I was born in, whether I like it or no.

Winter was very cold that year I remember. My sister's friend's grandfather Harvey, who was mentally challenged and lived at the end of town found this cattle dog outside his house that winter. She was starving and sick. She seemed to have been dropped off by someone to die. Her leg was broken. Harvey had a problem with animals in the town swarming his home since he left food out frequently for some of the cats, and I believe he was afraid of dealing with this poor dog, so he ignored her and refused to feed her – probably taking on a false sense of harshness he gathered from the truckers down at the diner downtown who often bragged of taking unwanted kittens, putting them in a bag, tying that back to a brick and throwing that bag into the icy river. Harvey I suppose really just didn't know how to feel, or what to do in a number of different situations, this being a tragic example. My father didn't like the idea of that poor docile dog dying out there at the end of town, so he volunteered to take her in, and for a time we had a pet dog.

She was a very sweet girl. She was a little skittish, and you could tell that she was afraid of men, who had likely abused her. She never tired of being pet. Her leg was really messed up. It looked as though it had been broken, and had grown wrong, and wasn't very usable. She had a swollen bump on her chest that didn't look good. We tried to wash her, but she just wasn't well enough for a lot of that. And she smelled too bad to be in the house with us. We set up a bed for her in the back room. We gave her an electric blanket to lay in. I named her Pegasus. She didn't resemble the flying elegant mythological horse in any way – in a great many ways, she was the bitter opposite of mythology. A suffering old dog. I tried to pet her and visit her as often as I could. At some point though she stopped getting up. She stopped eating food. Obviously, dogs are natural gluttons so this gave us the strong indication that something was very wrong with her. She began to smell worse and worse. I pet her anyway. It sort of broke my heart. Someone had known she was sick and had decided to dump her to die alone. She was too old to be anyone's exciting new pet. She also didn't smell too good. But she needed to be cared about just as much as any social creature.

Obviously, we had to take her to the animal shelter eventually. I knew it was the right thing to do. She obviously had cancer. She was old, and her leg being broken as it was would be a major challenge. Her body was shutting down, hence the smell. And still, she was so sweet. I sat in the back seat with her, and pet her the entire trip to the animal shelter. She looked lovingly up to me for much of the time, with this glazed over look. I truly believed that dogs feel love. She cared more about being given affection than she cared about food or even her own freedom. When we got to the animal shelter she couldn't walk and this woman who worked at the pound had to grab her and carry her in. I pet her one last time. She looked scared, though I could tell that the people at the animal shelter felt badly for her, since she was such a sweetheart. Honestly, I am fairly confident they put her down. As I waited for my father to make some kind of of final contribution to her welfare, maybe giving the shelter a few weeks worth of food money, I sat in the area with all the caged up cats. There were so many of them. Some of them hissed at me, many looked at my inquisitive and bored. This one cat in particular was yowling for me desperately. Purring and cherishing every spare second of attention and contact that could be had. I felt so bad for all these animals. I know there are a lot of differences between human being's cognitive awareness and animals, but it was easy to tell all of these animals felt abandoned. I imagine many of them never found homes. I also imagine it would be very hard to work in one of these places, being put into a situation where the most financial and humane thing to do would be to put them all down. It really irks me to no end when people get animals and don't take care of them. I hate it when people don't get their cats neutered and spayed. Ignoring all the animals in the wild we ignore as they go extinct, or the slaughterhouses or whathaveyou, we aren't even good to our own pets. Between abandoned pet dogs and cats that people simple , puppy mills, and so on, we bring these creatures into the world that they cannot survive or thrive in on their own, and they suffer. Call me crazy, but I honestly believe in some wild reforms in pet ownership.

That Christmas was probably the best Christmas I ever had. I had professed that all I wanted for Christmas was paints, canvases and brushes. For whatever reason, possibly guilt from the years my father had primarily bought gifts for girlfriends, he spent close to three or four hundred dollars on Christmas just for me. We went to Michael's and he bought me brushes, every color of high quality acrylic paint I would ever need, several different sizes of canvases. He also bought me some art books, for inspiration. They were these strange little books that presented different kinds of Art. One was simply called The Art Book, and the other was 20th Century Art Book. There was a House book, a Face book (of photographed people). It was from these two little books that I would flip through and study for hours that I got some grasp of what it meant to fill a canvas with pure expression. It was to date I think, easily my favorite Christmas besides a few I experienced as a child because I believed in Santa and all that.

We had a perfect Christmas dinner, and my father had thought to get me Blue Velvet. He didn't know very much about David Lynch, but he knew enough to know that David Lynch was something I would really like. And he was correct. He didn't want Allison and David watching Blue Velvet, so he made them close their eyes when Dennis Hopper's character was being a disgusting pervert. Call me weird, but as long as you have good communication with your children, and given they are eight or older, I am not that strict about what children watch. Obviously not just pure out of context snuff films or porn for the most part. Though I am not apposed to strong violence or sex within context of the story. And i imagine it is possible to put context into what you are watching. For instance, you could show when Saddam Hussein was being hung in context to showing what capital punishment looks like. If you want to eat meat, you should watch the full reality of what the animal goes through. It’s painful, but life was never meant to be jolly.

Raising children into being aware adults, I think it's important for them to grasp complex concepts, moral dilemmas and realities of our depravity and fragility mentally and physically. Media can be a great way to show children this stuff - if put into context - i cannot stress enough. Obviously if your child shows strong levels of delusional behavior than perhaps it's not a good idea. If you child suffers from severe anxiety as well perhaps take baby steps. I mean, it’s individual with each case, but more or less i think you should always present the challenge as best you can.I think earlier than eight a child is more or less in strictly monkey-see monkey-do mode, and it's not useful or desirable to confuse them about what is appropriate when they are still learning how to engage with the world as an individual in a fundamental fashion. My father was trying to be decent by telling Allison and David to shut their eyes, but what I thought was funny was the fact that the disturbing Frank Booth scenes were even worse if you close your eyes and simply listen to his lines. God what a fucked up character.

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PART 33 - http://tinyurl.com/y87449dz

PART 32 - http://tinyurl.com/ycetanep

PART 31 - http://tinyurl.com/yae3o4rd

PART 30 - http://tinyurl.com/ybht9aul

PART 29 - http://tinyurl.com/ybfcr9j2

PART 28 - http://tinyurl.com/yagdlo47

PART 27 - http://tinyurl.com/ydcj5fgf

PART 26 - http://tinyurl.com/y73nvl73

PART 25 - http://tinyurl.com/y6v6pgoj

PART 24 - http://tinyurl.com/ycak5d8r

PART 23 - http://tinyurl.com/yac6sk3g

PART 22 - http://tinyurl.com/yat6cfnw

PART 21 - http://tinyurl.com/y783egno

PART 20 - http://tinyurl.com/y8jskymt

PART 19 - http://tinyurl.com/rfhbms8

PART 18 - http://tinyurl.com/ycrznrwk

PART 17 - http://tinyurl.com/y77unlng

PART 16 - http://tinyurl.com/yadpsv8c

PART 15 - http://tinyurl.com/yb3lt6k5

PART 14 - http://tinyurl.com/yb4cfedq

PART 13 - http://tinyurl.com/yalanq9s

PART 12 - http://tinyurl.com/yc79mw94

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 - http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

#text

19 notes · View notes