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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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An Unexpected Visitor (Sriracha, Part 40.)

Series description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Early fall of ‘85. Everything seemed to be going just great - you were married, in love, almost finished with with your university studies, you had your baby back in your home and had some exciting news... Which was why someone had took you by a surprise.

A/N: I am honestly having so much fun, sksksks.

Word count: 3.1K

Tagging: @nemodoren, @missdictatorme, @ysljordy, @creedslove, @hopperlover, @btchsm, @rita-lean

Master list: H E R E

Series playlist: Jim Hopper 😠

You gave yourself three more days to accommodate to the new situation. It could be just the post-ceremony stress you were experiencing, right? Jim, as the good soul he was in his core, prepared you some breakfast the following morning, bringing it to your bed. It was obvious what you'll be doing that day since he took a day off and Eleven was staying at your mom's. James jokingly said that no-one will see you for the week following the wedding and look at that, he wasn't wrong.

As time went on, it was more and more obvious that something isn't completely in check with you. Whether it was the fact that almost every morning, you spent at least ten minutes with the feeling of being sick or the fact that you were capable of giving Jim a long lecture just because he didn't take off his shoes as soon as he got in. He was jokingly saying that you put your wife mode pretty early and you, as well, chuckled at that. Not knowing what to think about all of that.

The holiday in Maine suddenly wasn't such a good idea as you thought it would be. It was supposed to be your honeymoon and a family holiday at once since your budget wasn't exactly the highest. You were supposed to visit some ultra-romantic location for three days with Jim and spend a week at Joyce's.

Yet a week before the trip itself, you decided that you want to keep the voucher from Joyce for later, sticking to the kids and Joyce for the whole ten days. Hopper sure was caught off guard with that since you were all over the place for the romantic weekend when Joyce gave you the voucher as a wedding gift, yet he didn't protest at all.

You chose Steve as your co-driver to take a short break from being with Hopper all the damn time and to savor those sweet moments on the gas station. A few years, the kids would be disgusted to see you being touchy-feely with each other. You remembered them grinning every time they were visiting your pace and Jim came home, automatically receiving a smooch and a hug for you. Now, they just turned away and talked about stuff. And also, you didn't want him to see you hyperventilating into a paper bag once vomit comes to your throat again.

Steve, on the other hand, kept you busy while he was driving or even if you were sitting behind the steering wheel. He was choosing some nice jams to sing along with kids, or you played some games like word soccer to keep you, Lucas, Dustin, and Nancy busy. Or, when the car was quiet for too long, Nancy would think of a word, letting you guess what she's thinking about. You chose a good bunch for the car ride. Robin, since she couldn't sit on any of the backseats, was mostly hiding in the trunk of Steve’s car and occasionally, she changed with one of the children.

When you were in the middle, changing with Steve, Hopper asked Nancy if she would drive at least for an hour or so because he needed some rest. She nodded, which meant that you got Mike into your car instead of Nancy - Wheeler for a Wheeler, as Dustin had said. Of course that Jim also couldn't see these two snuggling constantly, that was why he asked you to take Mike to your car.

Even if you were locked up with all of these psychos for a good portion of ten days, the vacation couldn't be better. You visited many places, went to a beach to swim and watched movies in the evenings.

"You don't look healthy. Is everything okay back there?" - Joyce asked worriedly when you, her, and Nancy were preparing some peanut butter sandwiches. You shot your gaze at Nancy, but... Who on earth would this girl tell about your sickness?

"That sounds like you're worried if my grumpy old husband..." - You told her loud enough to hear Hopper chuckle from watching the movie. - "It just came across that you think he's beating me. That's not the case, don't worry."

"Hopper beating you?" - Joyce burst out with laughter, looking at Nance who was also grinning. - "You'd sooner kicked his bottom than him even getting to beat you. No, I mean, are you okay? Since the wedding, you had lost a lot of weight and your hair also looks different. And you seem to be tired all the time since you arrived."

"And let's not forget about your morning trips to the bathroom. It's a miracle that El or Hopper didn't notice yet since you're not exactly discreet about it." - Nancy added from cutting the edges. It maybe came off as a rude comment, but it wasnt meant as one. Both of the women were just worried.

"Maybe it's just the nerves, as Robin said." - You tried to shake it off with a nervous smile and you mixed Dustin and Will’s hot cocoa they ordered. At that, both of the ladies looked at you with a face knowing something you didn't.

"What would Hopper say about another child? Have you talked about that?" - Joyce asked pretty blatantly, looking at the peanut butter jar innocently. You weren't exactly surprised that this was their main concern. It crossed your mind too. What if you were pregnant? Just theoretically? There were a few occasions where you nor James were exactly careful with what you were doing in the bed, especially when he came back from the dead.

A long exhale of yours was more than a thousand words. But when you saw Joyce's shocked face, you shook your head immediately. - "I mean, yeah, I theoretically asked him once or twice if having children is something he would still be up to, but his answer... I don't know, gals, it was... He didn't exactly say no, but he wasn’t jumping around with excitement either."

"See?" - Joyce asked fenced with the butter knife in her hand, having her duh face on. - "He's opened to it, and that is the best you'll get out of Hopper. He wasnt too excited about seeing you at the begging either, don't you think?" - She poked fun of you a bit, having Nancy smile as well. - "And now he proclaims it the best idea he ever had." - She walked up to you, hugging one of your sides, Nancy joining on the other side.

"We’ll be here if you'd need some help, okay?" - Nancy whispered. No matter what, the idea of being an auntie made both the ladies smile. And you as a mom? You hadn't a problem with getting Eleven and the children gange under your thumb, what would the difference with your baby be?

Yet you felt kinda nervous when you gave all of the food and drinks to the kids, sitting beside Hopper. Someone started the movie, but the man couldn't look away from you. - "Why are you staring at me? I thought that this phase is way beyond us." - You accused him jokingly, laying down on the couch to watch The Breakfast Club, which was chosen by the girls for the night. Other nights, you watched movies like The Planet of Apes or Star Trek, so it was a fine compromise. Or ’halfway happy’ as Jim and Eleven called it.

"You're not lookin’ good is what I wanted to say." - Hopper chuckled, watching your mouth open wide. - "I mean, you don't usually look this ugly, so I'm just worried." - Jim finished, teasing the living hell out of you. With a smile, you kissed him, feeling the familiar scratch of a beard on your face. - "Shut up and watch the damn movie, James." - You chuckled, getting into a good position.

You fell asleep on the couch in the middle of the movie, both of you. So even if it was Dustin and Mike’s sleeping place, they decided to sleep in the garden in a tent with Steve and Robin, who were telling them scary stories the whole night. You knew that because around three a.m., back pain waked you up and as soon as you got up, Hopper had conquered the whole couch by himself.

When you went to sit on the terrace with a cup of cocoa too, Steve was still sitting there by a fireplace, looking into it while the rest was dead asleep at that time. These lumberjack slumbers had to be heard miles away. The summer air was colder in the area since you were pretty close to the sea, which was nice.

"Some ghosts on your mind, huh?" - You whispered into Steve's ear after sneaking up on him, freaking him the hell out. With a chuckle, you sat down next to him, pulling your sweatshirt closer. Steve took a sip out of your mug without asking and you let him, watching the flames too.

"Can't fall asleep for a reason. You?" - Steve answered the question, looking at the profile of your face. - "Back pain and Hopper being spread all over the couch. Since I got married, I feel like an old lady with all these back pains and late-night waking up." - You chuckled back at the comment about you feeling old.

Yeah. Steve was just three or so years younger, yet the differences between you and him were undeniable. You were married, possibly pregnant, a mother, almost a college graduate with a psychology diploma, and an adult responsible for a man like James Hopper while Steve was just trying to figure out who he even was. He was single, he was still living with his parents and had a job at a video rental. You both were adults now but in different ways.

"It weirdly suits both of you. I am like... No expert, but you feel right together. Jesus, do you remember when I kissed you when we were playing that hide in seek?" - Steve asked embarrassed, looking at you. At that memory, you started to laugh with him, nodding. - "And I how I have shot the basketball ball into your forehead? You had a concussion or something." - You told him back, having him laughing as well.

"Mom was not letting me see the two of you for the next two weeks. She said that you're too dangerous to be friends with." - Steve smiled and then, suddenly you both slipped into your childhood memories once more. He was making you laugh the whole night. You got back to the couch by six in the morning. - "Where were you?" - Jim asked sleepily once you shoved him off your half of the couch. You didn’t answer him, you simply kissed him without saying a word. Oh, what fun making Jim quiet that night it was.

The other day, Robin, Jonathan, Steve, and Hopper planned some kind of a quest for the kids and no matter how adult they were trying to be, they were happy when the four adults told them. And what a better day to spend with your ladies than peeing on sticks, am I right?

"So, does it like have two strips or one strip?" - Joyce asked through the door, looking at the instructions she got at the pharmacy. She was confused as hell, but she wasnt willing to say it out loud. At that moment, you opened up the door, walking out, having three different pee sticks in your hand. - "Do I look like a gynecologist to you, Joyce?" - You asked ironically, putting them on a paper towel so you could all have a good look at what was in front of you.

The only thing Nancy did was that she opened up her mouth unbelievably, Joyce copying her actions within a second. Only you stood there, not knowing what the hell is going on. - "So, it's negative, right?" - You asked with a peal of horrified laughter only being the single thing you were capable of. And you almost fainted when both of them shook their heads in complete sync.

"All three are positive. So... Congratulations?" - Nancy whispered, still looking at the three pregnancy test in front of you. You, my friend, felt that you were in deep shit since that moment. It was your last day in Maine and the other day, Steve was driving you home again. The whole ride, you were quiet, looking out of the window. When Steve wanted to turn off Baba O’Riley, you stopped his hand by catching it, letting it play. The song was somehow translating to your situation with the lyrics like We’re all wasted and Don’t cry. You were feeling like crying.

Any other girl your age would be fine with it. Well, not fine, but they would somehow accept it. Yet you had a lot to think about. Should you let this one dream go? Should you get rid of the baby before Jim gets to know? What would his reaction even be? Jesus, you weren't that scared ever before. But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him nor to for that abortion. The only thing you did was visiting a doctor to confirm the news. It was too late to let the baby go anyway. The doctor could see you tearing up when they told you... - "Congratulations, you're going to be a mom."

A loud ring bell woke you up from your slumber. Jesus, you weren't ready to go to the hospital as a children psychologist that day. You lower back hurt, you were growling, your tummy was in immersive pain. You were getting real pregnant since the day it was confirmed. Maybe it was time to tell Jim and Eleven - but there was nothing sure until the end of month three, so there was no way telling them beforehand. Your mom knew and she almost went crazy with happiness. Yet the rest, no, you didn't consider it appropriate to tell them just yet.

You were in so much stress, as your doctor said, that you should wait before telling the others the news. There was no wonder - your fucking husband was a stressor at his best, Eleven was now at school in Hawkins, which didn't quite help and your new job as a psychologist in the local hospital was quite a burden too. You wouldn't be even able to finish the semester in time, probably, yet you already told your lector about the situation, thinking about taking something called a pregnancy break or whatever, starting the final semester again after you'd give birth. You'd also had a full right to continue studying while having a child home, taking the exams, and other things.

It wasn’t a big problem since the same man had you under his wings since 1983 and he was still friends with your parents. You already started to work on it with the man - first, you had to prove that you're pregnant for real with some report from your doctor, which you have already done. It was more chill than you'd ever say - you could ask for prolonging your studies without having to pay fees or whatever, but you didn't want to freak yourself out too early about being a real mom and... There was much to talk about.

Nonetheless, even in your first trimester, you felt super-pregnant, super huge and it was a wonder that you somehow covered the constant vomiting. It wasnt happening at that moment mostly, yet when it did, your whole dinner usually ended up in the toilet. You cussed as you ran the stairs down. Jesus, you were gassy as a living fuck. Holy damn. You farted on every step you took and when you needed to burb, well, that was something as well. And you were better at these activities than the boys or even your husband.

"I'm coming! I'm coming, just wait a minute, Jesus!" - You yelled at the door, supporting your lower back with your hand, the other one holding the railing. No-one was at home. Jim was at work and El was with her friends outside, probably having some milkshakes at Murphy’s. You still loved that place and you visited it frequently to talk with Ada and you other co-workers or just to have something ultra-unhealthy there with your family.

When you opened up the door, you felt like if you've run a marathon before that. You still had your palm on your lower back when you smiled at the persons who were ringing. It was a tall woman with a boy standing next to her, smiling at you with a surprise in her face. She expected Jim to open up the door. Instead of her ex-husband, it was a girl who was maybe half his age with a golden ring on her left hand.

"My name’s Y/N Hopper. I'm so sorry I didn't hear you ringing before, I was sleeping." - You smiled at the woman pleasantly, knowing that you've seen her before already. And the boy was just super cute. She nodded and took the sight of you once again. - "What are you looking for? Can I help you?" - You asked, inviting them in for a cup of coffee. Maybe it was the former owner of the house? That was where you knew her from?

"Oh, I'm just looking for James Hopper? His secretary told me he lives here?" - The woman asked while you started to prepare the cattle. She was looking around your kitchen, especially on Sara’s pictures on the walls while her boy wandered off to explore the living room.

"Yeah, he should be home every minute now. Do you and Jim know each other?" - You asked with a smile, making her choose between tea and coffee. She decided to have a coffee.

"My name’s Diane. I'm Jim’s ex-wife." - She told you, and when she did, the mug fell out of your palm, breaking into small pieces. You opened up your mouth, picking everything up before the boy would come there and cut himself. So that was where you knew her from. Jim’s old photos. Of course. - "And I need to talk to James as soon as possible."

#joyce byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #jim hopper #jim hopper stranger things #eleven stranger things #eleven hopper #mike wheeler #robin buckley #oh no #who is here #guess who

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justthingstbh · 5 years

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Life on Mars

Read on Ao3 Tags: This is basically just domestic fluff folks

“So what do you want to eat tonight?” Juno asked while stretching leisurely. They had a long day behind them. Someone had broken into the Intergalactic History Museum and Peter had had so much fun taking out his old Rex Glass Alias that Juno hadn’t felt like stopping him.

It was only when guns were drawn that Juno felt a pinch of regret that he had let Nureyev come. He wanted nothing more than to know that his master thief was safe from the world. Safe in his office with Rita, but then again, he knew that Peter wouldn’t have let him go in alone.

Juno remembered looking at the man, seeing his sharp teeth peek through those silky lips as he slashed one of the goons with his knife and the happiness that he felt that Peter was there with him had hit him with full force.

So had the fist that he wasn’t paying attention to. It flung him backwards, almost making him stumble, but he caught himself on his wobbly feet before that happened.

The goon lifted his hand to punch him in the face again, but Juno was quicker, pulling his blaster and shooting the man straight into the stomach.

It was set to stun, of course, but it still knocked the man out cold.

“Rex! We need to get out of here, now!”

And so they did, but not before Peter gave his goon a good punch straight in the throat, catching the small vase in one hand and running towards Juno the second he knew he was holding it safely.

They ran out of the Museum quickly, ducking into an alleyway around two blocks away from it, heaving and holding themselves upon their knees.

“Do you have it?”

“Of course I do, Detective. They don’t call me a Master Thief for nothing,” Peter grinned and Juno couldn’t help but smile back.

“I guess you don’t just use those hands for thieving either, do you?” Juno smiled out through his huffs.

“Oh, you know the answer to that, Detective,” Peter smirked, which is how they found themselves at home, on their couch.

Peter was sitting with his back against the arm of the couch, his long legs sprawled over Juno’s lap and he was holding a book in his hand when Juno asked where they wanted to eat.

He dropped the book, A Brief History of Turtles as we understand them, on his chest to look into Juno’s eye. “Really up to you, dear. I heard there was a new restaurant a block from here that just opened, we haven’t been to that one yet.”

Juno looked down to his hands for a moment, staring at how they had settled on Peter’s muscular calves, and squeezed them just a bit before answering. “I thought, well, I thought maybe it would be fun if we cooked together tonight if you’re up for it?”

As Juno looked at Peter, he saw fear in the man’s eyes, as he had never seen before. Juno reached over and carefully took Peter’s hand in his, which seemed to startle the other out of his trance.

“You okay, Nureyev?”

Peter quickly nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, dear. There is - Well, there is just something that I have to tell you.” His face changed, he became weirdly serious and Juno sat up straighter.

Peter took a deep breath and looked down at his book, fiddling the pages lightly with his fingers.

He whispered something almost inaudible.

“Come again?” Juno said carefully.

“I can’t cook, okay? I know you probably expected me to be able to do it, but I can’t. Everything I try to make I just burn-” he put his hands on his face, hiding behind them. “I just am terrible at it, and I thought I could just… take you out to dinner every night for the rest of my life.”

Juno simply smiled and rubbed his face with a hand in annoyance, before slowly pulling one of Peter’s hands away from his face. He looked terribly embarrassed. For a second he looked into Juno’s eye before looking away.

“Were you ever planning on telling me?” Juno grinned and Peter just let out a soft groan before shaking head.

Juno threw his head back in a loud laugh, holding his stomach with one hand, while the other was still holding Peter’s hand.

Peter let his other hand drop from his face, only to pick up a pillow from the couch and throw it at Juno’s face.

“You’re an asshole, Steel,” Peter pouted and Juno just leaned over to kiss that pout off his face.

Peter threaded his hand into Juno’s curls and tugged slightly. Juno knew it was payback for his slight mockery, and it only made him kiss the other deeper.

Peter let his one hand run over Juno’s back, settling in the small of it and pulling him closer to him. Juno obliged happily, letting himself be pulled to his love.

But just when Juno really let himself lay down on the other, he heard Peter’s stomach growl and he pulled away only for Peter to chase after his lips with a desperation that he had grown accustomed to from the thief. Peter didn’t reach his lips, though, as Juno put his hand on his silky lips.

“You seem hungry,” He teased. “Want to make something?”

The other only shook his head.

Juno rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave the lips that Peter had just kissed. “Come on, you useless thief, I’m teaching you how to cook.”

As Juno stood up, Peter jumped up and stole a kiss from the other. “Useless thief, huh? I beg to differ, I have stolen thousands of things.”

Juno crossed his arms on his chest and let out an almost annoyed huff. “Like what?”

Peter looked up as if he was thinking, only to move towards the kitchen. “Your heart, for example.”

The detective followed with a laugh. “That one doesn’t count, I gave that to you freely.”

Peter wouldn’t tell Juno, but the thought of Juno letting him into his heart, allowing himself to love Peter so fully and unconditionally, was almost too much to handle for him sometimes. So instead of becoming the putty on the floor like his knees wanted him to, he walked into the kitchen with a little too much fake confidence, before jumping up to sit on the counter.

“So what are you gonna make, Detective?” he grinned, his hands placed next to his thighs, his shoulders pulled up just a little.

“WE-” and Juno really emphasized that word. “-are going to make Spaghetti. It’s easy, and it’s quick and it’s one of my favourite foods, so get down here and help me.”

But Peter didn’t move. Just swayed softly from side to side, grinning smugly.

“Are you gonna come down here and help me make food or not?” Juno asked, his voice laced with fake annoyance.

The other man, still sitting on the counter, looked up, but avoided Juno's eye. “My legs are really sore from walking all day, dear, and I just plain don’t think that I could stand up without some encouragement.”

Juno only scoffed while pulling out two pots from his shelf. “If you think that I’m going to come over there and kiss you to encourage you to make food, then you’re just wrong, Nureyev. Your encouragement should be that you are literally not getting any food if you don’t help me. Also half of your butt is on the stove, so cooking might be a little hard.”

The detective didn’t need to look to know that Peter was pouting, he knew how to play that man like a fiddle. Problem was that Peter knew how to play him too, but to his surprise, the thief got up, gracefully dropping to the ground and turning around so that he was facing the counter.

“So, how can I help?” he asked, he sounded a little defeated, just slightly. So Juno turned around, handing Peter the bigger pot, and dropping a small kiss on Peter’s lips.

“Fill that with water for me, please. And then salt the water, you will need more than you expect, but not too much.”

As Peter turned around to walk to the sink, he suddenly had the feeling that he was incredibly stupid. How much salt was too much salt? Couldn’t Juno have just said a measurement? Why did the detective have to make things so hard?

But he did as he was asked. Dropping the amount of salt into the water that he felt was reasonable, before handing it back to the other.

He stared at the water, which was slowly getting hotter, worried that he might have fucked it up, might have put too much salt. He was so focused on it that he didn’t notice that Juno was talking to him until he felt a tap on the shoulder.

He jumped a little at the sudden contact, so out of it that he had forgotten where he was.

“You okay? You’ve been staring daggers at my poor pot for about two minutes and I’m slowly starting to grow concerned.”

“No, I’m fine. Just worried about the salt amount,” he admitted sheepishly and Juno shot him a loving smile.

“If it’s too little, we’ll just resalt it while we are eating, if it’s too much we’ll drown it in the sauce. Don’t worry, it’s not gonna be that bad.”

So they waited until the noodles seemed done, draining them before they moved over to their small table. Filling their plates and smiling at each other over their small accomplishment.

“Well, dig in,” Juno smiled and loaded his fork with spaghetti, Peter did the same, proud of the fact that they had actually managed to pull this off.

But as they took the first bite, Juno coughed into his hand and Peter could understand why. They were basically just eating salt. Peter had poured way too much into the water and it came to bite him in the ass.

For a moment, he thought that Juno would be mad, that he was going to be disappointed that Peter couldn’t even do that. But his wonderful Detective did something that Peter should have expected from the beginning.

He laughed.

He threw his head back, opened his mouth and started laughing, loudly, openly. He laughed like Peter had made the best joke in the entire universe. As if nothing that anyone would ever say, or had ever said could reach the comedy in this scene.

And as Peter watched his Lady, heard the sound of that gorgeous laughter, a sound which was more beautiful than any song anyone had ever composed, he joined in with the laughter. Watching Juno over the table, watching the detective wipe the tears of laughter from his eye, even though he was still laughing loudly and the tears would be there again in a minute.

Peter felt his own tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t bother wiping them away, focusing too hard on holding his stomach with one hand and his mouth with the other.

As their laughter slowly died down, Peter smiled at Juno, raising his eyebrows and resting his head on one of his hands. “So, I think I added a little too much salt there.”

Juno wiped his eye once more, even lifting the eye patch to wipe the tears there too. “Yeah, you could say that, but it’s not too bad for your first time.”

“It’s pretty bad, Juno.”

Juno just nodded and added a drawn-out “Yeah.”

“So, any other dinner plans you got in that pretty head of yours or do you want to just starve tonight?” Peter asked smugly.

Juno looked into the pot with the sauce, they still had a lot and he didn’t want it to go to waste.

“How about we try this again. We should still have some noodles and I can show you how much salt to add this time, so we don’t... Well, we won’t have a situation like this again.”

So that was what they did, they threw away the noodles that were more salt than noodle and started the process again, keeping the sauce on low heat, so that it wouldn’t be cold when the noodles were finished.

After a few minutes, Juno pulled out a noodle from the pot with a fork, blew on it and held it to Peter. “Are they done?”

Peter ate the noodle off the fork carefully, making sure not to burn himself, but as he bit down on it, Juno could hear the obvious crunch so he deemed them not done before Peter even confirmed it.

They waited for the noodles to be perfect before they took the pot off the stove, drained the water and returned to the table with the noodles and the sauce.

When they both had a plate of their second attempt in front of them, Juno twirled some of them on his fork and held it towards Peter, who already moved forward to take the bite from the fork, before Juno pulled it back.

“No no, get some noodles on your fork.” This didn’t really explain anything to Peter, but he did as Juno asked, holding his fork out to Juno, who clinked their forks, as one does with wine glasses before smiling out a soft: “To our horrible cooking ability.”

Peter grinned, before he added, “To us,” before moving his fork back and eating the bite that was on his.

It was a lot better than the first try, it actually was really good. Which was a good thing, because Peter had the feeling that if they had had to order food after their failed first attempt, he would have starved.

Juno looked just as pleased with their dinner as him, so they finished their food in mostly silence, due to their shared hunger.

After a good dinner and successfully cleaning their table, they settled down on the couch together. Juno was leaning against one arm of the couch, Peter settled between his legs, his back against Juno’s chest. He had his comms in his hands, while Juno was flicking through the channels on his TV.

“Dear?” Peter asked after a few minutes. Juno made a small noise of acknowledgement, to show he was listening. “What are you doing next Tuesday?”

Juno moved his hand into Peter’s hair, running his fingers through the soft black strands. “Nothing, if I remember correctly. Why?”

His lover didn’t turn around, just tapped on his comms a few times. “Cause I just signed us up for a cooking course. I would rather not have to repeat what we did today.”

Juno chuckled softly, before leaning forward, pressing a kiss onto the back of Peter’s head.

“I love you, Nureyev.”

Peter put his comms on the table, and leaned further back into Juno’s chest, tilting his head upwards to look into the other's eye. “I love you just the same, my dear.”

At that moment, something pulled on Peter’s heart. Something that he had never expected to happen, the domesticity of it made his heart soar. He had Juno and Juno had him and for a second, in this moment of peace, he knew that that was all he needed.

And if Juno had thought the same thing, he didn’t mention it. Just dropped another kiss on Peter’s forehead and pulled him closer, before they both focused on the TV, trying to find something to watch that wasn’t too horrible.

There, on a ratty old couch, in a small apartment in Hyperion City, Peter found his happiness and Juno found it as well.

#Juno Steel #Peter Nureyev #the penumbra podcast #TPP #Jupeter #TPpod #my writing #fic #fluff #Nothing but fluff

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ty-talks-comics · 4 years

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Best of DC: Week of January 29th, 2020

Best of this Week: Justice League #39 - Scott Snyder, Jorge Jimenez, Daniel Sampere, Juan Albarran, Alejandro Sanchez, Hi-Fi and Tom Napolitano

Talk about a Cosmic Sandbag.

Shayne, the alt-future son of Hawkgirl and Martian Manhunter, gave his life and essence so that his father could return from the darkness. This book opens with the amazing return of Martian Manhunter as drawn by Jorge Jimenez with colors by Alejandro Sanchez. Manhuner hasn’t been seen since Justice League #28 when Lex Luthor absorbed him to become Apex Lex, so this return had a monumental feel, especially as the rest of the League looks upon him with awe. Jimenez makes this moment feel powerful as J’onn stands tall against Perpetua with his reds glowing vibrantly thanks to Sanchez.

As soon as Perpetua takes notice that J’onn has returned, she lunges after him. This is likely due to the fact that Martian Manhunter is legitimately one of the most powerful telepaths in the DC Universe and in the subsequent pages, he makes the choice to connect the minds of the people of Earth with his and the rest of the Justice League to try and swing them all toward the side of hope.

This results in a wonderful double page spread where Jimenez poses Martian Manhunter like he’s about to use the Solar Flare from Dragon Ball and speaks to the people. Jimenez and Sanchez show the people on the streets and various members of the League looking towards the sky with smiles on their faces. Snyder scripts this amazingly by having Manhunter give the rousing speech of goodness and rising above that Superman would normally give. What makes this even better is that Manhunter, who usually suffers disillusionment from living amongst humanity, does an amazing job.

J’onn’s speech manages to rouse enough people that the Totality, the macguffin that could imprison Perpetua once again, begins to glow and surge with energy. Perpetua, starting to feel the fear of loss orders an onslaught of the League. Jimenez emphasizes the anger on her face, the fear on Lex’s and the intensity of the battle happening on the steps of the Hall of Justice.. Sanchez makes sure that the colors almost surge off of the page with flashes of red and blue.

As the hope of the people of Earth continues to grow, the tendrils of the Totality wrap themselves around Perpetua’s spindly body as she screams in anger and hatred. Tom Napolitano places Martian Manhunter’s thought balloons perfectly throughout these pages as Snyder ends J’onn’s speech with the people of Earth joining together in the feeling of heroism and hope. The Sigil of Doom begins to fade away and Perpetua has failed…

And then “KRA-KOOM,” Napolitano’s powerful lettering cracks across the page as Jimenez draws the Sigil of Doom firmly seared into the sky and made even stronger by the overbearing hum of Sanchez’s vibrant green. This is the kinda trope that Scott Snyder does well, but also kinda overuses in his grand scale stories: The Cosmic Sandbag. The heroes were on the very cusp of victory and it seemed like the people of Earth were actually believing in the hope that Martian Manhunter was talking about, but instead they gave into their fear, hatred and base instincts just like Perpetua thought they would.

Snyder utilizes this bait and switch technique to show just how influential Perpetua’s evil is and how at the end of the day it will take more than just a flowery speech to turn people, especially since they watched the Justice Leagues battle the forces of Doom and lose massively. Snyder used this in Dark Nights: Metal anytime Batman thought he had a chance in defeating The Batman Who Laughs and Barbatos. They would just pull nonsense out of nowhere and further plunge our hero into despair because he couldn’t anticipate the villain’s very next five moves. I love it and hate it because it helps to show hopelessness, which I am a fan of, but Snyder does do it a bit too much for my tastes (See The Batman Who Laughs mini-series).

The next thing we see is a Rita Repulsa-esque cackle from Perpetua and honesty this might be my favorite of Jimenez’s panels because he just makes Perpetua look so petty. She’s basically saying, “Bitch, you really thought!” before explaining how everything was by her design. She wanted to give humanity a choice to hear both sides and they still chose Doom. Manhunter tried to hide his mind from her, but he failed to realize that as the creator of the Multiverse, he could never think fast enough to avoid her. Perpetua is far more powerful than these heroes could ever have anticipated.

Jimenez and Sanchez absolutely kill the next few panels as Perpetua casts away the shackles of the Totality, breaking out of the tendrils as her black cape...hair(?) causes a gust of wind to shake our heroes while the background shows varying tones of blue, almost a mockery of their ideals of hope. She stands over the Earth while the void of space appears vast around it and with a flick of her wrist and a flash of yellow she wipes the Justice League from existence. Doom truly has won and she vows to create a new story from the ashes of Hope.

Though, the universe itself has other ideas. In the black of Space, green matter begins to coalesce into a form, then that form takes shape and appears to be Martian Manhunter. Daniel Sampere, Hi-Fi and Juan Albarran take over the art from this point and pose Manhunter as if he’s in a womb, reborn after being supposedly killed by Perpetua and saved by something else. I love that Snyder places such importance on Manhunter and his humanity. Despite the insurmountable odds that the League has faced up to this point, he still does everything in his power to call back to the Earth, to try to win the people back.

He is unable to, however, and it seems as though he’s not the only one unable to use his powers as the rest of the League shows up behind him. In an awesome splash page Sampere and Albarran show everyone as wearing black bodysuits, potentially symbolizing a loss of identity or power as none of them seem to be able to use their abilities. Hawkgirl seems to be the only exception because her wings are a part of her. Superman tries to rationalize that as long as they’re not actually dead then there’s still hope, but then he fails to fly, landing back on the moon.

Another awesome thing about this issue is how it calls back to the very first issue of the run with the Quintessence showing up. The Quinessence are a group consisting of Highfather, The Phantom Stranger, Hera, The Wizard Shazam, The Spectre and Ganthet of the Guardians of Oa. They are some of the most powerful beings in the universe and even they knew that this was how things were meant to be. They saw the same vision of Doom that Martian Manunter did and saved the League in the nick of time to prepare them for what’s to come, not just a war of Justice or Doom, but for Everything.

With everything that’s been hinted at as far as the next incoming Crisis, this is a really good inciting incident as far as things go. Perpetua wins and sets up the next true war for the Multiverse. Given there’s still things to sort out with The Batman Who Laughs, the conflict is set and the Justice League has to give their all to ensure that they can protect the Universe. Superboy Prime is coming back in the pages of Shazam, Wally West has found his kids and Dark Multiverse world of his own creation and this issue even references Doomsday Clock and kinda cements its place as an alt-Universe story, but acknowledges the importance of it.

Scott Snyder has set the stage for everything to come and thanks to his fantastic art team telling the story, he drums up the feeling that there’s still a way to see Geoff Johns original vision for Rebirth through. The hope is there, the League just needs to fight for it. I can’t wait to see what Robert Venditti can do as the writer for Justice League given the amazing work he’s done with Green Lantern and The Freedom Fighters series. Doug Mahnke also taking over as main artist is also a welcome change as he’s one of my favorite of DC’s regulars as well.

This was a high recommend and I can’t wait for the future!

#justice league #perpetua #martian manhunter #hawkgirl #doom #scott snyder #jorge jimenez #daniel sampere #juan albarran #alejandro sanchez

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8emmy · 5 years

Text

(Not So) Sweet Home Velaris

Sweet Home Alabama AU AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891252

The Illyrian Valley was vast and heavily wooded. The mountains that surrounded the valley were known for being the largest in the country. Millions of nature enthusiasts and outdoor lovers visit the national parks and mountain resorts yet no one knew that there was a small town nestled in the center. Nesta’s rental car passes the welcome sign of her hometown, Velaris population 1,035. Nesta felt her nerves running high. She hasn’t been here since she was twenty-three leaving for law school. Nesta’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

She knew that if she pulled over and called Mr. Suriel and explained the seriousness of getting the paperwork finalized that he, being a professional, would get it done. But she also couldn’t risk another setback. It was already two years of back and forth frustration, and she now had a deadline that was coming too close to the end.

If that good for nothing two brain celled bastard actually signed the papers like he should have done two years ago… Even the thought of going through this mess for two years gave her a stress headache. It should have been easy, Mr. Suriel was the one giving the papers. He was basically a family friend. He knew Cassian and Nesta since they were toddlers. It was supposed to be simple. She wasn’t trying to get money out of him as if he had any or property. His house from her suppressed memory was a glorified trailer in the woods near Starfall lake with outdated appliances and doors that were falling off their rusted hinges. It was a bachelor shack.

She only wanted a clean slate. Tomas needed a clean slate.

She glanced quickly at her diamond engagement ring. It was a decently sized diamond large enough to stand out but not so large that she looked like she had an unnecessary boulder taped to her finger. Tomas still didn’t know. He doesn’t even know that Nesta was from a tiny town in the north of Prythian. All he thought he knew about her was that she was a Corporate lawyer (true) that was born and raised in Orilon (lie). Absently she rubbed at her ring as she drove her eyes still trained on the road in front of her. She’ll need to slip it off before confronting Cassian. Cauldron forbid that the sight of it will cause Cassian to double down on being spiteful over the thought of Nesta being happy.

She rolls down Main Street. It was quiet for a Tuesday afternoon. There were a few people out and about slipping into the post office or walking out with their groceries from Vin’s General Store. She parks her rental car in front of a blue building in the window a sign reads:

“Suriel LLP For All Your Legal Needs”

She rubs at her ring, debating if she should take it off before heading in. The town lived off of gossip. Even the sight of her being seen could reach Cassian’s ear by the local grapevine before she gets to his door. She leans into her back seat, searching for her overly broad sun hat. In her glove compartment, she finds a pair of large sunglasses. She slips on her poor disguise before leaving her car.

Suriel LLP looked like it did when she was 23 when she was just Mr. Suriel’s Legal Assistant/Receptionist waiting for her letter from Orilon University Law to arrive. Reception was unsurprisingly empty. The waiting room sofa was the same brown tweed with the same coffee stains on the cushions, and she swears that the same magazines sat on the coffee table untouched. Old landscape sketches hung on the wall showing the Illyrian Steeps, the mountain range that surrounded the valley she was currently in. She walks up to the reception and dings the bell. She calls out, “Excuse me. I am here to see Mr. Suriel; I am his 1:30 appointment.”

No answer. Nesta crosses her arms over her stomach, tapping her heeled foot impatiently. Who takes lunch at this hour? Did she forget small town hours? How her lunches used to run an hour over sitting in Rita’s with Mr. Suriel pouring over legal books to study for her LSAT? When Cassian would surprise visit her at work to take her home for lunch? Her scowl deepens. Back home, Orilon is home now; she would go out to lunch maybe three times a month. Tomas was busy running his family’s small real estate empire and would try to schedule lunch dates into his overly stuffed schedule. They would go to a fabulous sushi restaurant that must have been the best restaurant in all of Prythian. Sometimes if Tomas were romantic, he would take her out to the boardwalk to eat by the sea and talk, mostly about the appending wedding and what was still needing to be discussed with the wedding planner.

She really wished she was back home.

The bell from the door rings. “Sorry ma’am I was at a business lunch, and it ran overtime.” Mr. Suriel’s voice came up behind Nesta. She turns to face him. “Nesta, your early.”

She faces the skinny old man that was being swallowed in his tweed suit that matched the sofa. Mr. Suriel’s cheeks were hollow and his lips thin. His thinning grey hair was combed over, giving him a deep part. Mr. Suriel was in his early seventies but looked like he was pushing into his nineties. “Yes, the traffic wasn’t too bad, leaving the city.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here till 1:30. Claire doesn’t come back from her lunch for five minutes.” Mr. Suriel looks up at Nesta, eyeing her large hat skeptically. “Fashion choice or trying to hide incognito till you see Cassian?”

Nesta twists her engagement ring. Mr. Suriel’s eyes are drawn to the sparkling ring a tight smile forms. “Congratulations are in order as well. Have you taken back Cassian?” Nesta’s eyes narrow. “No. It looks like you met someone new. How… Charming. All the same, congratulations on your up and coming nuptials. I am guessing your visit is more business than casual.” Mr. Suriel moves over to the hallway to the left of the reception desk. “Please follow me to my office. I have to print out the papers still. Would you like anything to drink? The breakroom is… well, you know where the breakroom is. We have a new coffee machine, the one that takes the pods. Claire claims that it saves us from throwing out so many pots of wasted coffee. I swear that it doesn’t. Her husband is selling them at Vin’s. I think he conspires with her to push sales, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Nesta follows Mr. Suriel to his office. His office was neatly organized; all his paperwork was left in neatly labeled file folders left on his long row of filing cabinets. “It looks like you haven’t switched your files to electronic,” Nesta comments taking a seat in an old worn-out leather chair. Mr. Suriel places his briefcase upon his desk beside a similarly old bulky computer monitor circa 2002. “Do you still use WordPerfect?”

Mr. Suriel opens his briefcase taking out a pair of thick-lensed glasses. “Claire switched me over to Microsoft Word 2013… I’m still getting used to the… layout.” He logins into his computer his glasses reflecting the strobing lights of the desktop and his eyes looked double in size. “We’re still not up to the times like your firm must be. I must say well done on your career so far, Nesta. I knew you would make a great lawyer; at this rate, you’ll be a partner soon.” Mr. Suriel’s eyes flicker over to her before going back to his screen. Nesta could see the shortcuts reflecting off his glasses as he searched out her divorce papers.

“I don’t think so. I’m only a junior associate; it’s going to take a couple more years even to be recognized.” Nesta takes her hat off to run her hand over the brim absentmindedly.

“My office is always looking for new talent. If you ever find yourself coming back –”

Nesta cuts in, “I don’t think that will ever happen.”

Mr. Suriel looks at her with the same tight-lipped smile and all-knowing magnified eyes. “May that be the case or not my door is always open, and I’ll be thrilled to have you back as an associate. Ah, here it is.”

Nesta sucks on her cheek. Her living here, again? Working in a tiny firm, again, dealing with small claim cases and drunk and disorderly? Ha, he must be going senile too at his age. She watches him as he clicks open the document and slowly presses print. The sound of the printer in the breakroom begins.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Mr. Suriel asks; his hands are clasped on the desk his attention solely on her; his large magnified eyes were watching Nesta like prey. How easy has she forgotten the uneasy nature Mr. Suriel has. How he lived for small-town drama and what a drama would it be to see Nesta and Cassian see each other again. An eruption of bruised prides and anger would surely rock Velaris to the core like an earthquake.

“No,” she shifts in her seat, straightening her posture. “I can handle this on my own. I am sure he’ll sign if I’m present.”

Mr. Suriel’s eyes narrow. “I don’t know. He was quite… set in his way when I last was over. He actually tore up the divorce papers.”

“You said in your email that he said that he would only sign if I was there.”

“He also said, mind you, that over his dead body would he sign anything without his lawyer present.”

“Good thing I’m a lawyer.”

Mr. Suriel’s eyes sparkle. “I think you misunderstood. His lawyer is Varian; he is out of town presently but…”

“I know that there have not been any changes since they were first sent to Varian’s office for his review. I don’t think his presence is needed to sign two-year-old papers.”

Claire comes in with a large stack of papers. “Mr. Suriel, I believe that these are yours. Nesta! How lovely to see you,” Claire Beddor was heavily pregnant. That was the first thing that Nesta saw, Claire’s large stomach and then the graphic tee showing an ultrasound of a baby holding an eviction letter with what she presumed to be Claire’s due date bolded. Nesta smiles a similarly tight-lipped one that mirrored her old boss’s. “Wow, you look so… fancy,” Claire eyes Nesta up and down.

Nesta thought what she wore was, to her, casual. She wore her signature navy blue office dress with ruffled three-quarter sleeves with a pair of understated Jimmy Choo’s. She defiantly looked more dressed up than Claire Beddor’s jeans and pregnancy tee-shirt. It was surprising to see the most popular girl in her high school look so ordinary. “Are those Jimmy Choo’s?” Claire asks taking the seat next to Nesta, forgetting about the stack of papers she held.

“Yes,” Nesta replies, watching as Claire rubs her stomach with her empty hand. “Congratulations on the baby.”

“Hmm,” Claire replies absently still looking at Nesta’s shoes and over to her Hermès Birkin, all gifts from Tomas to mark their second-year anniversary. “My third. I really wished that Isaac could afford a purse like that.” She sighs.

“Claire, can you please pass over the papers to me?” Mr. Suriel’s hand reaches over the desk. His limbs were long and bony. Claire looks over to him her material daze broken by her boss’s voice. She smiles brightly and passes the papers over to him before turning back to Nesta.

“How is Orilon, I heard it’s the city that doesn’t sleep. How fabulous.” Claire sighs.

“It’s like any city really. It’s busy, loud, and overly crowded.” Nesta says, placing her hat over her purse.

“It must be like living in a fairy tale. I could never picture myself living there myself. I have my world here. Mom and dad are growing old, and the girls have started school. It must have been so scary to move from our quaint town to the city all by yourself all alone.” Claire made it sound like it was far worse than it was. Sure, it was scary, but so is every choice an adult makes. Including starting a family which to Nesta was far more terrifying than moving cross country. “But now you’re some big shot lawyer.”

Nesta tight-lipped smile hurt her cheeks as she watched Claire rub her stomach. Would that have been her if she didn’t leave for law school? Pregnant and regretting her life choices?

Mr. Suriel interrupts. “Nesta, here you go. Everything has been flagged that requires Cassian’s signature. Please bring back the lawyer copy to me once everything is signed.”

Claire moans, “Ohhhh,” Nesta back goes rigged. Please not this, please cauldron anything but this. “Your still not divorce?”

“That’s why I’m here. You know Cassian, stubborn as a mule.” Nesta says, taking the papers into her hands. She reaches down to her purse, and a shocked sound was made from Claire. Nesta’s hand was yanked towards Claire’s face. The young woman lifts Nesta’s hand, eyeing the sparkling diamond on her finger.

“That’s a rock!” She exclaims. “No wonder you’re here. I would want to show off that sparkler to my ex too.” Her smile is wicked as she catches Nesta’s gaze. “Looks like you caught a rich one.”

Nesta pulled her hand back from Claire’s grasp. She grabs her purse and stuffs the divorce papers into it. “I would rather not discuss my personal life.”

Claire puffs her cheeks, “I’m not sure why you wouldn’t want to talk about marriage. It wasn’t like your first one was any good. The groom didn’t even show up to the reception.” Nesta presses her eyes closed tightly and breathes in and out. Count to five. Remain cold and distant. She’s just upset that you left and had a life while she stayed and made hers miserable with the additional three she made.

“I rather keep my engagement under wraps. I still need to get my divorce finalized.” She finally says, standing up. Mr. Suriel gets up as well. He moves around the desk and moves over to the door opening it for Nesta to walk out. He stops her and says, “Remember what I said. My door is always open.”

She thanks him and walks out back onto Main Street with her hat and sunglasses on.

It wasn’t like Claire was wrong. Her first marriage wasn’t great; there was a reason that she fled so far away to attend law school. Cassian was her first boyfriend. The first boy she let herself bring her walls down. He was handsome and cocky, and he knew how to spar with her. They were shockingly, friends before lovers. In her teenage heart and in her diaries, she thought that he was it. He was the one. They would be like Claire and Isaac married with three kids living in a small shack by the lake with Cassian working at the mechanics’ shop and her working at Suriel LLP as a Legal Assistant/Receptionist. But no that was not how her marriage with Cassian was.

She was a fool that got pregnant after a football game when Cassian scored the winning touchdown. They made love under the stars in the back of his pickup listening to the radio. Their marriage was the right thing to do. A respectable young lady needed to be married before she started popping out babies. It was rushed and horrible, and Nesta wished she never agreed to the whole thing. The church service was awful with Cassian running late from his long night bachelor party drinking with his brothers and turning up still drunk. She didn’t understand why he needed to be drunk to marry her. Was this not what he wanted? He always said he wanted to marry her.

Nesta shakes her head. Back to the present Archeron, there is no time to fall back to bad memories. She gripped her steering wheel tight driving towards Cassian’s home.

It was like how she remembered it but also not. The one-story home was painted pale yellow sidings with ivy growing up the sides of it. The front yard was patchy and unkempt. Even the small garden Elain started was more weeds than vegetables. The porch ran in front of the house with the best view of the lake. Two rocking chairs sat under the kitchen window the screen door was still closed, but the front door was open. She could smell biscuits baking. She closed her car door with a clang slipping her engagement ring in her purse as she walked up to the steps from the porch past the rocking chairs to the screen door. She not so polity knocked on the door.

“I’m coming; I’m coming. Hold your fucking horses, Rhys.” Cassian voice rose from the depth of the house. Nesta back straightens. He sounded like he just woke up. Great, Cassian half-awake is the worse Cassian. “Tell Feyre to calm down. I made the fucking biscuits as I told her I would.” She caught sight of him; he wore a tight-fitting tee-shirt and dark joggers. His hands were in his long hair pulling it up into a ponytail. He had yet noticed that Nesta was not Rhys. He groggily moved to where Nesta thought could be the kitchen table picking up a plate of biscuits. “I don’t understand why she still thinks I’ll flake and not make –” He noticed her his shock expression was not lost to her nor how he dragged his eyes up and down her form as if trying to make sure she was, in fact, real and not imaginary.

He walks up to the screen door. His arm rests above his head as he leaned on the door frame. He has his signature smirk on his face, and his eyes looked like they were sparkling. Nesta scowled. “As I live and breathe, my wife has returned. What can I do for you?” He looked so full of himself. So proud of himself. He smelled like Irish Spring and coconut. Nesta tries her best not to close her eyes as she breathes him in. After six almost seven years of not seeing him, he’s acting as if she was gone on vacation and was back home from finding herself. His smile was lovely and warm and so not worth the pain that she was about to give him again. But then again, she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her.

“For starters, I need you to stop being a stubborn mule and sign the divorce papers.” She wills her eyes back to ice. She takes out the divorce papers from her bag and places them in Cassian’s viewpoint against the screen door. Cassian lifts his hand to rub at his jaw his smirk no longer there, and his eyes looked heavy.

“I already told your lawyer that I ain’t signing shit till Varian looks over the paperwork.” He says, looking over the paper to Nesta.

“Varian has seen the paperwork the first time. Nothing has changed.” Nesta pushes the paper harder against the screen door.

“And how do I know that if Varian hasn’t reviewed it. I don’t want to find out that you took all my money and my home from right underneath my nose in the fine print.” Cassian gaze never flickered back to paper. He was only looking at her.

“Cassian -” Nesta begins before Cassian straightens his back. Nesta drops her hand, holding the divorce papers.

“Do your sisters know that you’re in town?” Nesta looks past his shoulder. “Of course not. Why would you want your only family to know that you came to town to harass me about divorce?”

“I have a plane to catch. Can you sign the damn papers?”

“Is Varian here?” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest as if waiting for an answer. “No? Well, I guess there’s your answer. Go see Feyre and Elain. They would like to see their runaway sister.”

“That is none of your concern. What my relationship is with my sisters is for me to decide, not yours. We have been separated for seven years, Cassian. We’re not husband and wife. Just sign the papers.”

“You know what I changed my mind. I won’t speak to you until you talk to your sisters. Varian also must be present, but I want you to talk to your sisters.” Cassian moves closing the front door and locks it.

“For fucksake!” Nesta screams at the door. She pounds and pounds at the door. “Open the fucking door Cassian! Stop being a child!”

She continues to pound as Cassian blasts music. She stops and remembers that Cassian probably still didn’t know where the spare key to the house was. Cassian was not the type to change the locks to his glorified shack residency, and he probably forgot that there was a spare hiding somewhere on the grounds of his home. Nesta ran her hand up the kitchen window. The curtains were drawn, and it looked like Cassian wasn’t in the kitchen. She ran her hand up to the top of the window frame feeling for the – “Ah-Ha!” Nesta proclaims getting her fingers around the key and pulling it down.

She unlocks the door and steps in. The house was neat. Not surprising from Cassian’s strict childhood. The kitchen was clean with old tiled countertops and 50s appliances. His fridge was covered in magnets holding pieces of paper and photographs. She places her purse on the small four-seat table set in the middle of the kitchen and walks over to the fridge seeing a photo of herself and Cassian smiling taken in tenth grade. And there was another of her and Cassian, and another and another with their friends and family and on the side of the fridge next to the oven hidden, but not well enough was the photo. The photo of the ultrasound.

Nesta turns and goes back to her purse for the divorce papers. She hears him humming, happily thinking that she gave up. She moves so she can see the tiny living room. He’s sitting on the couch flicking through channels on his tv. His plate of biscuits sat cellophaned on the coffee table next to his feet. She moves with purpose in one hand the divorce papers in the other the spare key. She moves to the stereo and slowly turns down the music. Cassian turns.

“I am calling the cops your breaking and entering on private property.” Cassian hands go for his cell phone that too was on the coffee table charging.

“It’s not breaking and entering when I know where you keep the spare key,” She waves the key in front of his face, “and also, as I am still married to you this is our property. I dare you to call the cops I’m doing nothing wrong.”

“Nesta, I swear to the Cauldron that if you don’t leave my house this instant, I will drag you out.”

“Is that a threat?” Nesta moves further into the living room. Cassian had his phone unlocked in his hand.

“Maybe, would you want to test it?” Cassian opens up his contact list going through it till he reaches Rhys’s name.

There was a knock at the door. Cassian and Nesta looked at each other. “Cas! Hey, sleepyhead! Feyre is worried that you forgot her biscuits! Cas! Wake up, dude! If you don’t get over here in like five seconds, I am coming in!” Rhys’ voice yelled from the door.

“Fuck…” Cassian rolls his head back. He snaps back, staring down and Nesta, “You stay there.” He gets up, picking up his plate of biscuits and walks out to the front door.

“There you are sleeping beauty. Come on we got to get those to Feyre.” The screen door squeaks open.

“Hey dude, I’ve got to do some stuff before I head over.”

Nesta not taking Cassian’s command began to creep over to the archway separating the living room to the kitchen. She peeps her head around the corner spotting Rhysand wearing a sheriff uniform. His dark hair that was once almost as long and shaggy as Cassian was cropped short showing off his slightly irregular pointed ears. He had the same dashing smirk and childish spark in his eyes.

“Work on a Friday? I thought you said that you would never work weekends?” Rhys said his hands on his waist.

“Yeah… I got some paperwork that needs to be done today. Why don’t you take this,” Cassian passes his plate of biscuits to Rhys.

“That’s not enough; the whole gang is over. This will not last a second.” Rhys takes the plate.

“I don’t really have the time currently to bake three hundred and fifty biscuits for your fiancé to stuff down her throat.”

Nesta’s eyes widen. Rhys was engaged? Not with Feyre, surely not. Feyre would have told her so.

“Hey, it would be Mor too, they share.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll be over in like an hour tops.”

Nesta, not wanting to miss her chance, walked into the kitchen. “Rhys,” Nesta greets walking fully into the kitchen.

“Work my ass, Cas. Think of the devil, and she appears. Nesta, what hole have you crawled out of this time.” Rhysand replies. Cassian glares at Nesta moving to the right to let Rhysand into the house.

“Not the one you were hoping of. I am here actually to –”

Cassian cuts in, “to help me review contracts. You know as she is a corporate lawyer, she has a better understanding of… contracts.” Rhysand gives him a skeptical look.

“I am not here to look over contracts if I was; he could hardly afford it.” She looks at him pointily. “I am here to get him to sign this.” She extends the divorce papers toward Rhysand who whistles.

“I thought you dealt with this already,” Rhysand looks at Cassian who was leaning against the tiled kitchen cabinet.

“I thought I did,” Cassian replies.

“Tearing it apart is not dealing with it.” She deadpans. “Can you please force him to sign the damn thing! It costs me a small fortune.”

“As much as I would love to use my badge over my brother that’s an abuse of power that might force me out of office.”

“Can you at least talk some sense into this idiot?” She asks.

“That I could try… But not today.”

“I need this signed today. I don’t have time to play this game anymore.” Nesta huffs.

“I am sure another week won’t hurt you,” Cassian replies. “Varian will be back and will look over the papers then I will sign.”

Nesta goes to her bag on the kitchen table and begins a search for her ring. She puts it on and flings it in front of Cassian. “I don’t have a month for this Cassian. I am getting married in four weeks, and I still have things to plan.” Cassian’s eyes go wide. Rhysand gasps.

“I am guessing your sisters don’t know,” Cassian replies, still looking at the diamond with a stet jaw. She really didn’t want to show the ring, but it was the only card she had left.

“Please sign the papers.” Nesta drops her hand, pushing the papers towards Cassian on the table. He sits down the vinyl chair squeaks at his weight and finally looks at the paper. Rhysand stands back at the door his eyes still looking at the sparkling diamond on her hand. No one knew. She wanted to leave her old life behind. She wanted to start her life new with Thomas with nothing holding her back. She always thought of herself a loner with no family. She pulls out a pen with her firm’s name on it and places it next to the paper for Cassian to reach.

He looks at it then looks over to Rhysand.

#nessian #acotar fanfiction #sweet home alabama

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court-0f-dreamers · 6 years

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ACOTAR: Restrung Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Fic Summary: What if it was never up to Tamlin to break the curse? What if, instead, in a true test of love, Amarantha sent out Prythian’s most abhorred and cruel Highlord, to watch his land fall into ruin while trying to change the heart of a hateful human? A Court of Bitterness and Jasmine…A Court of Rhysand. Set in the same universe as our favourite Sarah J Maas characters, but with a twist.

CHAPTER 3

He was livid. Rage pulsed off him in lashes of warm night. Idiot girl. Stupid, unthinking, impulsive girl. He continued pacing across the floor of his private study.

“She wouldn’t have done it if she wasn’t so scared, Rhysand,” Cassian snapped, from his seat in the comfortable brown leather chairs, “You should have given her more of a reception.”

“She jumped out of the window!”, Rhysand said through clenched teeth, unable to stop himself gesticulating wildly.

“She abseiled out of the window.” Cassian couldn’t help the small smile across his face as he corrected Rhys, “Using your priceless curtains.

“And you know, you could make her feel more welcome. Find out what she likes. Be less...this”, Cassian continued, pointing to all of Rhys.

And then he leaned back and put his dirty boots on the ebony coffee table.

Azriel sighed from his spot on the mantelpiece, “If you’re going to pick a fight with him, please do it after we eat.”

“I can’t just go into her mind and find out what she likes, Cassian”, Rhys continued. He moved in between Cassian and the table and tossed his feet back down onto the carpet. “The curse doesn’t allow me to just delve into her mind. If not, don’t you think I would have just made her fall madly in love with this!” He pointed at himself, repeating Cassian’s gesture.

Cassian pushed on, “Now that we’ve found her, can’t you just do your daemati business and make her like you-”.

“You know I can’t, Cassian”, Rhys responded with equal snap. But Cassian’s words had found their mark.

He turned hitting his palm on the coffee table with an uncharacteristic unchecked rage, “Dammit! If I could enter minds so thoroughly, I’d have fed Kier and his subjects out there pillaging my city to the damn Attors!” His expression was fierce as his anger grew, and a dark shadow of his wings appeared behind him. “And then I would mist them all while they were still being devoured.”

He locked eyes with his brothers. His brothers knew him so well that they hardly blinked at the Highlord mask he wore. They had unshakable faith in the man underneath. Faith that he would uphold his duty to his land, his people, and most of all to his family. Looking at them reminded him of what he had to do here - and all that he couldn’t do.

He sighed and sat down next to Cassian. “Amarantha’s spell was so cunning. So slippery and yet so pervasive. The more I try to delve into its magic, the more it evades me. Now that Feyre is here, it’s starting to change, starting to become...more oppressive.”

He put his head in his hands. “I can feel it inching towards the core of my power.”, he softly whispered.

He could see Cassian schooling his features to hide his surprise.

Some nights were harder than others, but for them, for his people, Rhysand would never give up. “I am trying. With Feyre, I will try better-”

Azriel coughed. Rhysand could hear hesitant steps down the hallway.

They all fell silent and waited for the door to slowly open.

When they brought her home, she was in no state to talk to anyone. The girl, Rita, who was with her was equally shaken, but Az made sure she was returned to her family, while Cassian flew Feyre back to the House of Wind. On arriving, the always courteous Cassian pointed out the closest bathroom, and asked her to meet them in Rhys’ study when she was done hauling her guts out.

Feyre slowly stepped in, shoulders hunched, head held low but unharmed. Rhys didn’t let himself imagine what would she would look like if his brothers hadn’t happened to be flying so close to the Rainbow.

Almost unharmed. Rhys’ eyes immediately went to the backs of her hands. The cuts there were relatively shallow, but dirty. He had spent enough time during the war with humans to know how quickly those simple wounds could become life-threatening infection.

She met his eyes, and straightened her spine defiantly.

He quirked an eyebrow. So you think you were right to come up with that ridiculous escape plan?, he thought.

The fire in her stormy blue eyes clearly answered the unspoken question.

He peaked his fingertips together and lifted them to his lips. His hold on his emotions tonight was taut, like a tightly pulled string. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Azriel coughed again.

He sighed, anger deflating.

He was actually at a loss. How am I meant to treat you?, he thought, grappling for words. He was five hundred years old. He had ruled over two very different courts for most of that time. He used to command legions of Illyrians and Fae alike. And he didn’t know what to say to a 19-year old human girl. Not just any human girl.

He looked into her small, proud face, holding her gaze. Feyre Archeron, you could save us all.

“Sooooooo...” Cassian came and stood between Rhys and Feyre, breaking their intense stare, “you seem to have some battle scars there.”, he gestured to her hands.

She quickly tucked them behind her back.

Azriel looked pointedly at Rhysand.

Rhys broke his silence. “The Attors have their own poison. To prevent those from getting worse they should be cleaned. There are those I trust, in fact I can have Velaris’ best healer-”

Azriel coughed a third time. Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at him, I should punch him in the throat, give him something to cough about. The stoic shadowslinger barely moved a muscle, but the small gleam of light in his eyes betrayed his mirth.

Ok Rhys, big smile, he thought and forced a smile of his face, “Well, how about I’ll heal them myself. Please sit down, Feyre”.

*** *** ***

Cassian and Azriel subtly stepped out of the room.

Feyre had been terrified that whole walk into the study.

After their initial interaction, the highlord suddenly excused himself, remembering something important he had to tell the two males outside the room.

Feyre was left alone in the surprisingly personalised and homely study. Unlike the rest of the palace, the usually bald red walls were covered with rich tapestries and abstract artwork, with the most surprising being a wall-high landscape vista painted directly onto the stone face.

Amazing. She had never seen art like this.

The painting showed a beautiful waterside city, teeming with life. There were vibrant buildings, giant cargo-filled boats, lush trees and pockets of wildlife scattered throughout. And there were people - well, Fae. Fae from all different origins; High fae that looked like the highlord, and faeries that looked like those in the dockyard.

That was when she noticed how familiar the broadwalk looked, how if the light was different, the dark looming mountains that shadowed her flight here could be like the open and inviting peaks of the painting. And the city, the colourful, alive city, could have been like Velaris. She turned towards the window where a wretched dying mirror image of the painting looked back at her. Why did he have this here, only to create the world outside?

Wait, what are you doing you idiot!, Feyre started, You’re alone in his study. Stop examining the art and find something that will help you.

She began looking around. There were rows of books stacked neatly, a few choice artifacts on the low table between the couches, and in the far corner a desk with-

A desk! Feyre quickly moved to the desk hoping she would gleam any information that might help her.

She was ecstatic to find a map. She had never learned to read, she family too consumed by their own poverty to realise that she only knew her alphabet and nothing more, but she could understand a map.

Or so she thought.

There was neat scrolling writing throughout, possibly labelling cities, rivers and mountains. There were also lines all through it, making paths through various points on the continent. None of it makes sense, the script didn’t look like she expected. She squinted in the dim firelight, her eyes frantically trying to find the human settlements beneath the wall.

“Interesting technique. Not one I’ve seen before”, a cool voice said behind her.

Shit! Feyre said, jerking and dropping the map. Before it could hit the floor, he bent down snatching it up.

The Highlord of the Night Court. She dared to look him up and down properly for the first time since she returned - if only to see if he had any weapons on him. Instead, all she saw was his all-black fitted suit jacket and tapered pants, this one with violet embroidery on the edges. Even after midnight he looked pristine. Did he sleep in that? Feyre thought, despite knowing that she really had more emergent things to worry about that his sleep attire.

Just distraction as a coping mechanism. She knew being caught rummaging in his desk was only going to make her night worse.

“Maps,” he said, a self-satisfied tone to his voice, “are usually read with the inked side facing the reader, and the right way up.” He spun the map around.

Oh. She couldn’t stop the shame from blooming on her face.

His looked at her again, head cocked to the side.

She just stood there silently, holding her head low in a fake gesture of subservience. Try not to piss him off any more, Feyre, she told herself.

He rolled his eyes, not buying it, “Alright, fine. I’ll ignore your invasion of my privacy. Give me your hands.”

“What are you going to do?”, she tried to not let the very real fear show on her face as she whispered, “...Magic?”

She almost thought she saw a shadow of a smile, “Not today. Just antiseptic and bandages.”

He waved his hand and a metal table with various sized pieces of cloth and brown glass bottles appeared next to her. He carefully picked up her hands.

Silence descended over them as he methodically cleaned each scratch. He seemed content not speaking, which suited Feyre perfectly.

Her mind whirled with conflicting thoughts. It was hard to rationalise this male next to her. Here, in what had to be his personal study, there were personal touches and an inherent warmth that did not fit in with the dangerous and destitute city below and the dark highlord who ruled it.

Not to mention, he surely has more important things to do that tend to his latest prisoner’s minor wounds.

She was surprised by how gently he picked swabbed the fragile skin before applying a cool cream. She noticed he was careful not to touch her more than necessary. And she very much noticed that when his warm hands did lightly brush her skin, she didn’t want to jerk away.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t mentioned how thoroughly her escape plans had failed.

As if by thinking it, she had jinxed herself, he said “Unlike your cartography skills, I hope your survival instincts are sharp enough that I don’t need to elaborate just how insanely stupid your plan was tonight.”

And just like that every kind thought she may have had about him was gone; he is such a arrogant, self-absorbed…

“Not only was it stupid, but I would have lost something valuable to me,” he continued while tying off the clean bandage on her hand.

...entitled, egotistic... wait, what?

He looked up at her as he finished the clipping the gauze in place, “My beautiful curtains.”

...PRICK!

She snatched her hands back, huffing out a breath.

He stood up, nodding towards the door.

Feyre was sick of him having the last word; “Well the only thing truly beautiful in your disgusting city is that painting!” she blurted, pointing to the painted wall.

He didn’t say anything as he rearranged the bottles and gauze pads on the table. His head down, it was as if he didn’t even hear her.

She felt stupid standing there, after being so clearly dismissed by the highlord.

However, as soon as she stepped outside she could have sworn she heard him whisper; “I know.”

*** *** ***

She wasn’t sure how she managed to fall asleep that night, but at some point during her uninterrupted mental stream of swear words to describe Rhysand, she had drifted off into dreamless sleep.

She was awoken the next morning by gentle sunlight as Cerriwden pulled back the curtains. She could not recall the last time she had slept in after dawn, and it looked terrifying like midmorning already.

“The highlord requests your presence on the grounds this morning.”, she informed Feyre softly, while subtly ushering her out of bed and in the direction of the bath. Feyre’s eye caught on the tray Cerridwen had brought up, laden with breakfast food.

Food. She skipped the bath and immediately sat down devouring the fresh pastry and brightly coloured fruits.

Halfway through, a thought struck her and her eyes jerked up at Cerridwen, “Oh! Can I eat this? I mean, is this safe for...humans?”. Cerridwen looked at her with a small smile, “Yes Miss. I would never serve you otherwise. You are safe here.”

Safe. She held back a snort, Cerridwen sounded like a parrot for her prick of a highlord.

Although - she had been treated with nothing but kindness by her, Feyre wasn’t stupid enough to believe she could truly trust anyone in this world - she thought, as she relished a second serving of fluffy flourcakes and spiced milky tea.

“Sorry Miss Feyre, I’ll make sure that there is lunch waiting for you when you return, but the Highlord insists on your presence now”.

Feyre may have been dragging out her breakfast, particularly as as she doled out the last of a large bowl - which had likely contained a serving size for at least four people - of cream and strawberries onto her plate. She knew the highlord was waiting, she somehow sensed his…impatience.

“Miss Feyre--”, Cerridwen’s voice held a strong warning now.

Before she could shovel the plump strawberry with the perfect ratio of cream into her mouth, it vanished.

In the next heartbeat, the whole breakfast tray vanished!

And then, before she could voice her outrage, her table and chair vanished - landing her smack on her bottom on carpeted floor.

Fae prick! She narrowed her eyes. She had seen him perform his vanishing trick before.

Fine, I’m on my way.

*** *** ***

Rhysand squinted in the distance, fiddling with the coins in his pockets. The training ring on top of the House of Wind almost had a pleasant view, if you overlooked his ruined, sprawling city. He looked away and started rearranging the knives.

“We have company” Azriel mumbled.

A moment later, Feyre walked into their training room, her duelling emotions of surprise and agitation clear in her expression. It’s the tilt of your eyebrows, I can tell exactly what you are thinking, little darling, Rhysand thought.

He knew his little magic would have made her angrier with him. He was willing to pay what it may cost him - it was infinitely preferable than her being scared of him again.

He turned around reaching for her bow. Azriel had found it when he returned to make sure all the Attors were taken care of. Rhys had fixed it himself this morning with a bowstring that wouldn’t fail her again.

“Good morning, Prick,” she said.

Rhysand’s head snapped up in surprise. Oh!

“Good morning, Fiery”, he said, deliberately mispronouncing her name. He could almost hear Az rolling his eyes. His brothers had made it very clear later last night that his skills with the ladies had truly suffered in the last few decades, and he wasn’t doing a great job at proving them wrong.

“Well ‘Highlord’ seems to be pronounced ‘arsehole’ so why not?” she retorted.

“His name is Rhysand,” called Azriel, the nosiest shadowslinger he had ever met, from his spot near the grass.

Feyre pursed her lips, stopping herself from saying it.

“Oh. “No shove it up your arse” for Azriel here? He is saved from your loving nicknames, even though I am the one who made sure you had a delicious breakfast waiting this morning.”

“Do you expect me to thank you?”, she snapped, with none of the confused reticence she had last night.

She turned gesturing around her. “Since you seem to have so quickly forgotten. I am a prisoner here. I’m your prisoner, entirely at your mercy. My whole life and my family’s life is in your hands, and- and” she voice shoke, all her bravado stripped away, “And you expect me to be grateful?”

Her words hit him hard. He had sworn her safety to her family and to her. He had made sure her rooms were fittest with the most luxurious trappings, and even had Cerridwen, one of his most trusted employees watch out for her, and yet his city, his palace remained a prison. He shouldn’t have been surprised, its destitute walls were a cell for people who called it home, let alone a human he had forcibly brought here.

He suddenly wanted to do anything in his waning, fading power to help her. He would at the very least help her.

“Let me make you a bargain.” he said quickly, “In my lands, you will be safe, you will not be harmed by anyone’s hand, not even my own. And I promise that while you are here your family will not want for anything.”

It was intricate, difficult magic but he could do it. He understood more than a little of that magic now, and Cauldron-damn him it was the very least he could do for this girl that he had taken everything from.

“And what do ask from me in return?”, she asked cautiously.

Smart girl. “Your time. No more escapes. No more climbing out windows. No ripping up my curtains.” he replied, holding all emotion out of his voice.

She bit her lip, unable to hide the uncertainty on her face.

“Oh and - let’s throw in learning to read there too.” Rhysand said, picking invisible lint off his suit.

Her face became flushed and her eyes narrowed. He could see her weighing up lying versus admitting her vulnerability. He noticed how she misread the map, it was clear she didn’t understand what was written on it. Plus, he knew how cruel human societies could be towards their females, it wasn’t unheard of that she wouldn’t be given her right to education.

Come on, take my offer, he urged her.

“Okay”, she whispered, looking at Azriel, rather than Rhysand.

“What did you say?” Rhys pushed.

“I said Okay!”, Feyre growled at him.

With a half-smile, Rhys dug in deep, deep into the recesses of his power, and starting winding out the bargain magic. In response, he felt a twinge between his shoulder blades, just as he could see the tattoo forming on Feyre’s forearm. He couldn’t help but detail in night court-black ink, his beloved illyrian whorls, sprinkled dots shaped like Velaris’ unique starlight, and the leaves and blooms of jasmine, the flower of his court and his mother’s favourite.

He was surprised at the twinge of joy he felt looking at her arm.

And she looked appalled. “I didn’t agree to this. What is this?”

The unbridled consternation on her face took him the closest he’d been to laughing in half a century. His face remained impassive as he decided to add something to the already-completed tattoo.

A devious cat-eyed pupil winked up at from the middle of Feyre’s palm.

Her jaw could have hit the floor, and this time, Rhysand couldn’t hold back his smile.

*** *** ***

Eight hours later, Rhysand found Feyre where he had left her at her desk in her room. She knew her letters but she needed to practice her penmanship and progress to words if she was going to learn to read in the next few weeks.

Azriel had checked on her earlier in the day, and the shadowslinger had decided to stay in her rooms finishing off his own work and keeping her company.

Rhys was quite sure she didn’t wanted to talk to him, and he was happy taunting her from a distance. He had given her some provocative lines to copy, that she detested. Plus she was no doubt staring at that eye thinking he could somehow see her through it.

Strangely fun. He had had plenty of time to imagine what it would be like when he finally found the human, but fun was not what he expected. It was not an emotion he thought he could feel anymore; perhaps it wasn’t an emotion he deserved to feel anymore.

Despite his guilt, he found himself looking forward to seeing her progress.

He nonchalantly leaned against the door frame, “Ahem,” he said, crossing his arms in emphasis.

The shadowslinger nodded his hello from the couch across the room, but Feyre continued to ignore him. He didn’t expect any less. It was odd, he hadn’t known her for very long but he felt like he knew her responses exactly. Not that she was predictable, but rather, somehow, she was familiar.

“You know if you don’t speak, I can just hear what you are thinking,” he said.

Her head snapped up, shock in her eyes.

“Just joking.” Rhys said, using her distraction as a reason to jump up behind her and peer over her shoulder.

She smelled...nice. She smelled like citrus and a fresh cool breeze. And her hands, most of them were covered in his dressings, but he could see her long delicate fingers poking out of them. Her hands were poised gracefully, like an artist’s.

“Are you happy, Highlord?” she looked up at him.

He paused, lost in those stormy eyes. He took in a breath, that was the first time she didn’t look at him with fear, or anger, or feigned disinterest. She was looking at him with laughter.

He snapped back, quickly looking down remembering he was meant to be checking her progress.

In already surprisingly neat script she had 100 lines of Rhysand is the most pompous Highlord. Rhysand is the most conceited Highlord. Rhysand is the most FLATULENT Highlord.

Feyre sniggered. Cerridwen, making up Feyre’s bedroom, giggled. And he could have swore he heard quiet laughter from Azriel’s newly-vacated chair, where now only wisps of smoke remained.

Unable to stop himself, and even Rhysand let out a small but very real laugh.

*** *** ***

Nesta pushed through a bramble of thornbushes, and came upon a tree with dark peeling bark and sprawling roots - a very familiar, tree with dark bark and lots of roots.

“The fire of all the hells!”, Nesta swore aloud, likely realising this was the third time she had come upon this same tree in an hour, from three entirely different directions.

Cassian stepped out from where he was hidden from her eyes.

“Why are you here?”, he asked frankly and with authority.

She straightened herself, trying to hide the shock from her face. “None of your business. Leave me alone.” Her eyes darted from side to side, looking for an escape route.

Stupidly, she pulled out a kitchen knife, which she held with clear ineptitude.

He was tempted to roll his eyes.

He had been monitoring the Archerons. Rhysand had made sure they were cared for, the day he brought Feyre home. He had seen the poverty they lived in, and he knew Feyre had kept them alive. Cassian was there to make sure that everything went to plan, that they had everything that humans desired. He was on his way in when he scented the older Archeron sister in the woods. He scoffed, he could have just as well heard her. Not only did she swear every five minutes, but she wasn’t very good at keeping her position in the woods a secret.

In a few hours, her dress was already ripped, her shoes were falling apart, and her face covered in mud. But her eyes were clear as they looked up at him, instead of fear, he was fierce determination thinly veiling crushing despair.

Cassian didn’t want to feel sorry for this girl.

Damn myself! He thought - because he did feel sorry for her. Rhysand had shown him all of what happened that day in the cottage. This girl standing before him with squared off shoulders had let her little sister get taken away by a stranger, had not fought back one bit to keep her, had not used her last moments to bid her goodbye.

He understood what it was like to have family that rejected an innocent. Despite that, the girl was standing in front of him with her head held high.

“You are Fae. Show me how to get through the Wall.”, she demanded.

“Why?”, he demanded back.

“None of your business.” she retorted.

Cassian’s temper was uncharacteristically short. He wanted this girl back in her home. He didn’t want to have his Highlord or Feyre troubled by her insignificant family anymore.

He became the Commander of the armies of Night Court, the Lord of Bloodshed, and he held it all over this girl. Standing to his full height, letting his wings flare out.

Her eyes widened as she took in the wings he knew she hadn’t seen yet. Instead of cowering, she stood her ground, even widened her stance. And unblinkingly locked her stormy grey eyes with his hazel ones. That was not something even most battle-hardened soldiers could do.

“Tell me where the hole in the Wall is.” she said, this time slowly, vehemently.

“No,” he said, trying not to be impressed. “Go home.”

“You know her?”, her wall of ice chipped, there was some hope in voice.

“Yes.”

Despite the set of her shoulders, her eyes betrayed relief, and he could see the toll of physical exhaustion hitting her.

“Tell me.”

He sighed. “She is safe. She will not be harmed. And honestly, she is better off without you.”, he said, knowing his last words would find a mark. He needed her to stop looking for Feyre, and he needed to know.

“Now GO HOME. If not I can promise you the next time you run into a Fae in the woods, they won’t hesitate ripping you into little shreds.” he said. He pointed behind her. “Go that way, in about twenty minutes you will be on the border of your town. Now.”

She didn’t look like she was going to go anywhere. She gritted her teeth and stared him down. But finally, something in her snapped. Her shoulders sagged as she sensed the truth in his words. She turned around and started walking away, but not before imperiously glancing over her shoulder with one last word: “Bastard.”

How she knew he was from Rhysand’s court, he didn’t know. How she knew he wasn’t there to hurt and harm humans like some of the other Fae that made it over the wall, he had no idea. How she knew that that he could be trusted, that he would eventually give her the information she so desperately wanted, he didn’t know.

But he thought about it the whole way home.

*** *** ***

The Highlord watched Cassian fly back into the city borders. It was a common sight, the silhouette of the Highlord looking out of the watchtower above the heavy city gates. Most knew, and those who didn’t, suspected the truth; that the curse trapped the Highlord in Velaris. As payback for keeping this city a secret from Amarantha, he was sentenced to watch it fall. He could leave sometimes, when the terms of the curse allowed him to, but he could not leave of his own free will. They watched his harsh, cruel expression as he stood unmoving as a statue above the city dying around him.

No one noticed the hooded figure walking straight through the small service door in the iron fence. No one could truly see him, their brains filling in his image as a just another guard or part of a shadow. No one saw as he finally did what he had been planning for the last 49 years, the plans that caused him to stretch him magic further than he ever had before, the plans her arrival had solidified. He was going to save Prythian.

And as Rhysand, Highlord of the night court, winnowed away, no one would know.

#thank you krissy (rhysand-vs-rowan) for compiling all of Azriel's lines - it made me decide to use his first words!#acotar:restrung #acotar: restrung #acotar restrung #chapter 3 #my writing #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acowar #rhysand #feyre #feysand #azriel #cassian #nesta #nessian

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illyrianbeauty · 7 years

Text

A Not So Chance Encounter: Chapter 4

Rhys is persuaded to attend a fundraiser by his cousin Mor. He didn’t expect to meet the girl of his dreams.

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Chapter 4: The Shoe Drops

His cousin grinned wickedly at him. Rhys groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Ugh, she was insufferable. Mor would make him beg before she told him one little scrap of information about Feyre.

He was preparing to throw himself at her mercy when Mor squealed, “Holy shit, Rhys!” He staggered back a bit as she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in an enthusiastic hug. What was it tonight with all of the perplexing females?

“Ummmm….. Mor? Not that I don’t love you and all, but... what the hell?” He hoped the look he was giving her conveyed the bewilderment he was currently feeling.

“You like her. I mean, you really like her don’t you?”

Rhys turned a deep shade of red and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure why, but talking about Feyre like this with Mor was making him feel incredibly self-conscious. He kept his eyes on his shoes as he admitted, “Yeah. I really like her.” Damn, he was acting like a love-sick teenager! He needed to get his shit together. Rhys lifted his head and looked at his cousin. Instead of the smirk and snarky response he was expecting, Mor stood there beaming brightly at him with a look that was full of love.

“Why don’t we get out of here and go to Rita’s a little early? I doubt it’ll be that busy, so we should be able to get a table and talk for a bit.”

Rhys looked down at his watch. It would be at least an hour before Feyre would be free to join them. As much as he wanted to go over to the bar and talk to her, he didn’t want to risk getting her in trouble with her boss.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Let's go.” Before moving though, he eyed his cousin suspiciously and asked, “Did you drive here tonight?” The last thing he needed was to have to worry about her leaving the club and trying to drive home drunk.

“Hello! Did you see the shoes I wore tonight?” She pointed down to the black stilettos she had on and huffed a laugh. Not that he knew much about high heels, but they did look rather perilous.

She flung her blonde hair behind her and smirked. “Do you think I would be able to drive anywhere in these things? Cauldon no, I didn't drive! I took an Uber.”

He let out a relieved breath and offered his arm to her. “Well, then. It looks like I’m driving the two of us. Shall we?”

***

Rhys looked around the familiar, upscale club and spotted an empty table near the back. He had been to Rita’s plenty of times over the years. Mor practically lived there and dragged him, Cass, Az, and even Amren along as often as she could. There were plenty of other clubs in Prythian, but Mor favored Rita’s. Rhys never had been able to figure out why that was. While he headed to claim the empty table before anyone else could, Mor went straight to the bar to order drinks. She joined him a moment later with a beer for him in one hand and an apple martini, her prefered drink, in the other.

He smiled as she handed him the bottle and said, “Thanks for the drink.” Rhys clinked his bottle against Mor’s glass, uttering a quick, “Cheers.”

She tipped her glass slightly in his direction and said, “Cheers, cousin.”

Rhys was keen on having a conversation about Feyre, but he didn’t quite know how to begin. He didn’t want to seem desperate, or creepy, or anything like that.

Feigning a disinterest he most certainly didn’t feel, he asked, “So, how do you know Feyre? You’ve never mentioned her before and I thought I knew pretty much all of your friends.”

The look Mor gave him suggested he hadn’t fooled her one bit and she was fully aware how eager he was to know more about a certain female. Nonetheless, she divulged, “A few semesters ago, my academic advisor convinced me to sign up for Art History. It sounded like it was going to be an easy A, so I agreed.” She rubbed her forehead and spat out, “Biggest. Mistake. Ever. It was definitely not an easy A. The professor was horrible. It was the most boring class I have ever taken. Anyways, I ended up failing my first few assignments and quizzes. I thought I would have to either have to drop the class or fail it. In a last ditch effort to salvage my grade, I decided to beg the Teaching Assistant for help. I walked up to her after class one day I think I managed to get about two words out before I started bawling like a baby. I made quite a fool of myself, actually.”

Rhys has a hunch that the TA in question was none other than Feyre. Mor confirmed his suspicions by saying, “The TA took me into an empty office and attempted to calm me down. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, that TA turned out to be Feyre. She helped me out; worked with me every week so that I would pass that Cauldron damned class. She didn’t have to, but she did anyways.” Mor smiled as she reminisced. “Half of our study sessions ended up with us sprawled on my couch gorging ourselves on chocolates. Even after the class ended, we still hung out together all the time. I’ve considered her one of my best friends ever since.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes at her. “If she’s as good of a friend as you say, why haven’t you mentioned her before tonight?” Not that he didn’t believe her, it just seemed… odd.

Mor shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it just never came up. And since she started working a second job, we haven't seen as much of each other lately.”

Rhys leaned forward and rested his arms on the edge of the table. “I don’t see how she does it. Working two jobs plus going to school full time can’t be easy.”

“Well, let’s just say that Feyre hasn’t had the easiest life. I think at this point, she’s used to it. She probably wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she actually had any free time.”

That was a little too vague for him, so he said, “Mind elaborating on that?”

“Actually, I do mind. It’s not my story to tell. You’ll have to ask her if you want to know more. What I will tell you is that, for years, she was responsible for caring for herself as well as her entire family. She wasn’t able to start at the University right after high school. She had to save up for a few years while at the same time being the main supporter of her family. She’s actually just a year younger than you.”

For a moment, Rhys didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be financially responsible for your family at such a young age. He said with all sincerity, “Thank you. For telling me that.” Mor smiled at him, albeit a bit more subdued than before.

“Anything else you could tell me? Cauldron knows I need all the help I can get to keep from making a total ass of myself!”

Mor bit her lip and a strange look crossed her face. Was that… guilt? Shame? He couldn’t make heads or tails of the expression. Just as Mor opened her mouth to begin talking, her phone started vibrating. She snatched her phone off the table looked at the caller id.

“It’s Fey,” Mor said as she answered the call. “Hey. Is everything ok?” her voice was laced with concern. Had Feyre decided not to come? Trying to keep his emotions in check, he waited for his cousin to finish the phone call. He watched as her creased brows eased and her features softened.

“Yeah, we’re at the club already. We’re sitting at a table in the back. See you soon!” Mor hung up the phone and placed it back on the tabletop.

Turning her attention back to him, she said, “I guess they had too many people there to help clean up, so she got off early. She just pulled into the parking lot.” His eyes instantly darted towards the entrance of the club. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since he last spoke to her, bur Rhys found that he was thrilled to have the chance to do so again. When she finally walked through the door, his heart skipped a beat. He had thought she was beautiful before, but that was nothing compared to how she looked now. Feyre was clad in a black dress that snug enough to show off her considerable assets. It was also short enough so that it displayed her amazing legs.

Feyre sashayed over to the bar, presumably to get herself a drink. As he waited for her to join them, his thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Mor and all that he had learned about the woman who had so thoroughly entranced him. From what Mor had implied, Feyre had spent a large portion of her life fighting tooth and nail for what she wanted. He sincerely hoped that she would succeed in opening her own art gallery someday soon. She deserved that, and so much more. He watched her approach the table and smiled a real, genuine smile.

“I’m so glad you got a table. I’m exhausted,” Feyre said in greeting. She hung her purse on the back of the chair besides Mor’s and plopped down.

“Feyre darling, you look absolutely ravishing,” he drawled as he looked her up and down, not even trying to hide his appreciation for the form fitting dress. He was pleased to see a slight blush creep up her neck and reach her cheeks.

She swiveled in her chair and faced Mor. “Can you please get your cousin to behave himself?” she pleaded.

Mor looked as though she were trying extremely hard not to laugh in Feyre’s face. “No can do, Fey. I’ve tried, and failed, to get him to do just that since I was eight. You’re on your own tonight, I’m afraid.”

Feyre said sarcastically, “Thanks for the help, bestie.” Rhys and Mor both burst out laughing at the long suffering look she gave them both. She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like pricks . She wasn’t really angry though, if the twinkle in her eye was any indication.

***

Rhys had probably smiled and laughed more tonight than he had in his entire life. He couldn’t stop smiling, even if he had wanted to. The three of them got along so well, it was as if they had been the best of friends for years. That was, in large part, thanks to Feyre. The more her got to know her, the more enamoured he became. He would be well and truly fucked if she knew just how easily she had wrapped him around her finger.

His attention was brought back to the present when Mor suddenly stood up and declared, “I want to dance! Who’s coming with me?” He glanced at Feyre to gage her reaction. He would be more than willing to venture over to the dance floor as long as a certain golden haired beauty went along as well. The look that she gave Mor clearly expressed her disinterest.

Laughing, she said, “I’ll take that as a no. Rhys, care to join me?”

“I think I’ll stay here and keep Feyre company.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.” Rhys watched her prance towards the dance floor, shaking his head and laughing. Realizing he was now alone with Feyre, his stomach did a little flip.

He turned his attention to Feyre and purred, “Alone at last. Whatever shall we do?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She snorted and replied, “You are such a shameless flirt!” He smirked at her. Oh, she thought he was shameless, huh? Well, he would show her exactly how shameless he could be.

“Only with you, Feyre darling. It seems that I just can’t help myself when you're around.” She raised an eyebrow and he continued, “I think the only solution is for the two of us to go out to dinner sometime.” His heart beat wildly in his chest and he nervously waited for her response.

Feyre refused to make eye contact with him, choosing instead to study her nails. She shrugged her shoulders and said indifferen tly , “I really don’t think my boyfriend would think that is a good idea.”

As her words finally sunk in, Rhys felt the world collapse around him.

#feysand #feyre #acotar fanfiction #au #feyre archeron #rhyspov

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novellift42 · 3 years

Text

3d Lipo Fat Freezing.

# wrote an article .

Content

Treatment Prices.

Does Fat Freezing Therapy Work?

Whether you're wanting to improve your physique, do away with stubborn fat, or just look comfy in your clothes once again, CoolSculpting ® can be the solution. For those not aware of HIFU; it targets three layers of the surface and dermis in addition to SMAS, which coincides layer of cells that specialists draw tight in a face lift.

What do you do after Cryolipolysis?

Take It Easy After Treatment Be gentle when showering or bathing the area, using water that is not cold nor hot and by gently patting it dry. There are some rare side effects following CoolSculpting that include an enlargement of the treated area. If anything doesn't seem right, call your doctor.

The treatment is completely non-invasive, leveraging the Cryogenic Lipolysis methods established as well as shown by medical professionals at the Harvard Medical School. If you remain in any type of uncertainty and also the response to your inquiries are not consisted of within this website, please feel free to call us and also we will more than happy to go over the therapies with you in more detail. The feeling is a strong pull as well as pressure-- enough of a pull to guarantee the selected tissue is cooled down most effectively. I fidgeted in the beginning however Andy and Melanie quickly put me comfortable, explaining the treatment.

Treatment Prices.

It was slightly uncomfortable to begin with, yet when the air conditioning started the hour went rapidly with no troubles. We'll see if you're a great prospect for CoolSculpting as well as work with you to create a therapy strategy. Outcomes look natural and can be viewed as early as 3 weeks adhering to therapy, with the most dramatic results after one to 3 months. Excellent quality aftercare is just as essential as the therapy itself, so we're right here to sustain you. If you have any questions or problems whatsoever, you can call our 24/7 helpline. You'll be able to proceed with your daily activities after the therapy, and although you may have some negative effects such as moderate wounding or redness of the skin, this will decrease swiftly.

How scientists discovered CoolSculpting fat-freezing technology - PR Web

How scientists discovered CoolSculpting fat-freezing technology.

Posted: Fri, 11 Sep 2020 07:00:00 GMT [source]

After the therapy, the applicator is gotten rid of as well as your skin will be extremely chilly! A massage of the area will certainly after that be executed to damage down the crystals below the skin and also boost the lymphatic system to flush out the dead cells. Many people read, view video clips, deal with their laptop computer, or perhaps rest throughout their treatment. Dr Sophie Shotter explains the locations that can be treated with CoolSculpting at her Kent facility. Completely safe and also highly reliable, CoolSculpting can be used to eliminate fat from numerous locations of the body consisting of the belly, hips, inner and also external upper legs and the male upper body as well as for bra fat removal. Block Reservations are available and also can considerable minimize the overall expenses of the therapies for the outcomes. The HD 360 applicator is ensured to ruin even more fat cells in a solitary application when contrasted to standard applicators.

Does Fat Freezing Treatment Job?

The fat cells affected by the CoolSculpting process will certainly be metabolised by the body. check out lipo sculpt blog post to Neck Facelift Amersham Lipo Sculpt Local & Effective entails the ruined fat cells gradually liquifying right into the blood stream prior to being eliminated from the body. Throughout your appointment, your expert will certainly talk about whatever thoroughly, checking out your entire body as well as at your particular locations of concern, making a full analysis as well as recommendations for treatment. Dr Tracy Mountford was invited as a guest speaker at 'Bride-to-bes The Show' to review just how CoolSculpting can deal with persistent locations of diet regimen as well as workout resistant fat by cold them. The Aesthetic Skin Clinic in both London and also Buckinghamshire offer DualSculpting ™ which indicates that we can use 2 makers to do 2 CoolSculpting therapies at the very same time. The current enhancement of the advanced CoolAdvantage ™ suggests our expert CoolSculpting team are now able to twin form 2 locations in approximately 35 mins, with enhanced client comfort. We urge all our clients to research study fat freezing and also go through the study that have been finished on fat freezing results and the outcomes you can attain.

With greatly enhanced protection and advanced temperature level control, the HD 360 applicator can create much better results in less sessions. While regular applicators cool down from two sides, the 360 freezes the whole location, targeting fat cells at angles that are hard to treat. You are totally free to bring on with your normal daily activities immediately after treatment. This is the right as well as complete clinical term to define the Fat Freezing process we apply with our CryoGen therapies. The more generally referred to term of "Cryolipolysis" is an acronym of this correct clinical term and also has actually been signed up as a trademark by the producers of the Coolsculpting modern technology, Zeltiq Inc . In order to avoid complication and guarantee the appropriate terminology is utilized, we will certainly always describe Cryolipolysis by its full as well as proper name, "Cryogenic Lipolysis".

Treatment Area: Hips.

Please use the call kind or call the Dr Rita Rakus Clinic + to reserve a totally free assessment with us in Knightsbridge, London. From there we will speak you with the treatment and alternatives and then set up an appointment for therapy.

Fat freezing can be done on soft squeezable pockets or locations of subcutaneous fat.

Cryo produces a vacuum cleaner which attracts the fat into the hand item, after that ices up the location creating causing 20%- 40% of the fat cells because location to die.

This can include integrating our weight-loss program along with our variety of body treatments as you obtain closer to your wanted weight.

With our range of therapies, also if you are not ideal for fat freezing, we can design a bespoke treatment program customized to meet your needs, whatever your physique.

Best outcomes are achieved on clients with a BMI of around 30 or below, or within 3 rock of your ideal weight.

we have a specialized case studies page on our web site that has many different researches you can review before going ahead with the treatment. Its always best to reserve a face to face assessment with the center to ensure your needs are fully analyzed by an advance aesthetic expert and also your pleased with the procedure and also end results. Its vital to constantly most likely to an aesthetic center and also not to a beauty parlor as they are not specialists around. Fat cells ice up at a greater temperature than water, so there's no hiding from the fact that whichever area you're targeting with the therapy, it's mosting likely to really feel a little cool. Fat freezing freeze fat to below-- 6 levels and damages the fat cells by the procedure of apoptosis.

Dr Denton would certainly be very pleased to speak with you in her Solihull clinic, as well as will swiftly recommend if fat-freezing is a suitable treatment for you. We are the only fat-freezing clinic in Solihull to have multiple CoolSculpting ® systems, suggesting we can treat several locations at once-- conserving you time and money. To figure out more or come in for a cost-free appointment to talk about CoolSculpting therapies at The Private Center please call or utilize our CoolSculpting online get in touch with kind. These adverse effects need to reduce as well as decrease within a few days complying with therapy, the feeling of numbness can remain for numerous weeks.

Do you lose weight with Cryolipolysis?

Fat Cells After CoolSculpting Through our CoolSculpting fat-freezing procedure, you will see a reduction of fat cells in the specific areas you are looking to treat by 20-25%. You may not weigh less with your CoolSculpting body, but you'll look thinner and your clothes will fit better.

CoolSculpting is a therapy trusted by numerous countless patients looking to get rid of fat lumps from particular areas. CoolSculpting ought to just be offered by a center where personnel have been trained by ZELTIQ, the producer of CoolSculpting, as well as have actually attended CoolSculpting University. Here at The Aesthetic Skin Facility, we have specialists that entirely are experts in CoolSculpting treatments, and also have actually performed more than 20,000 CoolSculpting treatments to day. CoolSculpting was very first approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treating the flanks in 2010. In 2012, the procedure was removed for treating tummy fat, and also in 2014 thighs were included in the listing of therapy locations. An unique applicator for treating smaller sized pockets of fat, called CoolMini, was accepted for the treatment of dual chin fat in 2015.

As this thermal energy securely warms the cells, it gets causing tightening up of the skin as well as formation of new collagen, which gives longer-term firm impact. Immediate results can been seen after the first therapy, results will certainly continue to boost for a number of months.

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a-slightcatchoflightning · 7 years

Text

Little Glass Dinosaur

For @casual-laurie :)

FBG Prompt: Teen Lofty collects glass dinosaur ornaments, has done since he was a kid. While Dylan’s cleaning his room, he accidentally knocks one off the shelf and smashes it. What happens?

Tw:// broken glass

Words: 2604

Dylan stepped around Lofty’s bed and leant over it slightly to reach the windowsill – he was dusting his son’s room for him, since Lofty rarely had enough time with the newfound pressures of university. Lofty trusted Dylan not to go through his things, and Dylan trusted Lofty not to hide anything truly important from him. They’d made that agreement ten years ago, and it wasn’t one Dylan would break.

As he stepped back a little to look out the window, Dylan’s duster caught on a loose splinter of wood on Lofty’s windowsill. Grumbling with mild irritation, Dylan yanked the dusting rag away from the windowsill altogether and into his hip, his fists falling into natural placement on either one.

He didn’t expect it to pull one of the many glass ornaments off the windowsill with it though. He especially didn’t expect it to pull Lofty’s favourite glass ornament with it.

“Good Lord” Dylan dropped into a crouch and placed the duster on the floor beside the broken figurine.

Ever since he was eight, Lofty had collected glass figurines, mostly of animals. They were his prized possessions. Each had a name and a backstory, and each was kept clean and was loved dearly.

Collecting the pieces of the figurine carefully with his hands, Dylan scooped them up with the dustpan he’d also been carrying and went through to the kitchen, guilt creeping over him as he tipped the pieces out onto the kitchen table.

“Good heavens” He muttered to himself as realisation struck. The figurine the shards belonged to were of none other than Lofty’s little glass dinosaur – this was the dinosaur that had started everything off for him.

Dylan slumped into a seat and stared at the broken pieces of disfigured glass and wondered if Rita could remember where she first got the dinosaur it used to resemble.

He could remember, as even more guilt washed over him, how Lofty’s face had lit up as he unwrapped his first ever birthday present, age 8. Himself and Rita had sat with Lofty at the kitchen table, where he sat now, and had helped him with the paper, since his dyspraxia made it harder for him to unwrap the presents.

Lofty had been overjoyed that day, and ever since, he’d collected glass animals.

“Okay, call Rita” Dylan told himself under his breath as he stood and rushed anxiously to the phone; there was no point sitting around and reminiscing over a broken glass dinosaur, when he could solve the problem easily.

On the first ring, Rita picked up.

“Reenie?”

“Dylan, you okay?”

“Uh I’ve had a bit of an accident actually… I was wondering if you could help…”

“I would’ve thought you were a bit old for that sort of accident” Rita laughed down the other end of the phone and Dylan sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Ha-ha.” He replied sarcastically, “No, I dropped Lofty’s dinosaur figurine”

“Oh.” Rita instantly deflated on the other end of the line, “Dylan, that’s pretty serious, you know how he feels about that old thing… Have you told him yet?”

“Not yet no” Dylan admitted, “I was wondering if you remembered where you bought it from?”

“Oh!” Realisation hit, “Right that’s why you’re calling me; yes of course I do! Let me just find the address…” Dylan could hear the sound of drawers being clunked open and shut on the other end of the line and he waited as patiently as possible, while counting down how much time he had left on the large clock hanging on the kitchen wall.

“Rita? I’m sorry to rush you, but he gets home from uni in just under an hour… I don’t want to upset him…” Dylan’s voice was fast and losing patience by the second, but the rushed reply relieved that slightly.

“Yup, here it is: it’s the glass emporium in town!”

“That’s going to take me about ½ an hour to get to; I’m not going to be able to do it in time…” Dylan’s voice trailed off as he realised just how damaging it could be to Lofty for the first gift he received to be destroyed, especially when Dylan was the one who broke it.

“You know what? I’m not busy at the moment, how about I drive round and give you a lift?”

“Thank you Rita” Dylan let out a half-smile of gratitude, though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“It’s okay; I know what it’ll do to Lofty if I don’t. See you in ten”

“Thank you, see you” Dylan hung up the phone, relieved that Rita wasn’t busy and still knew where the dinosaur came from. Placing the phone back on the holder, he turned and swept the shards back into the dustpan, since the dinosaur was irreparable and tipped them into a carrier bag, before carrying it out the back door and dropping it in the black bin.

Once inside, Dylan grabbed his wallet and took his coat from the hook, waiting impatiently by the door for Rita to arrive. It was unlike him to be impatient or anxious over anything, but when it came to Lofty’s happiness and wellbeing, nothing would get in Dylan’s way to try and ensure it was the best it could be.

Finally, the doorbell rang and Dylan swung the door open, revealing Rita, who thankfully to save him any embarrassment, mirrored Dylan’s own slightly frantic expression.

“Come on then” She spoke quickly and they both made their way over to the car, beginning to drive as soon as the last click of a seatbelt sounded.

“How did you remember where it was from?” Dylan asked, in attempt to make some form of conversation through the fierce determination that hung in the air between them.

“Oh it was a business card they gave me; I’ve bought other ornaments for his collection since, so I make sure to keep the card in the address book.” Came the reply as they turned left at some traffic lights.

Dylan felt a tiny weight lift at the realisation that the lights had been green. As they were the only set of lights in the area, they weren’t usually such a big problem for him, but he was feeling more on edge than usual today and needed whatever sign of good luck he could get.

“O-kay” Rita spoke slowly as she concentrated on finding a place to pull in along the narrow lanes of the carpark, “Right… d’you remember what it looks like?”

“Yes” Dylan unbuckled himself and they stepped out of the car simultaneously, making their way hurriedly over to the little glasswork shop.

As they stepped inside, Dylan was reminded of the many times he and Lofty had entered the emporium throughout the years, and how careful Lofty had been not to smash any of the figurines.

Blue stained-glass dolphins hung on dreamcatchers from the walls and a clock-face made entirely out of glass made to resemble the sun took up a brick wall on one of the shop. Stepping under some lower-hung eaves into a cavern-like area, Dylan’s eyes fell to the stand where Lofty supposedly found most of the figurines he liked, as he recognised several: A giraffe with brown and yellow stains made to resemble its coloured coat was placed beside a small elephant-shaped paperweight. Dylan scanned the objects individually, conscious of his lack of time, but grew more anxious with guilt as he failed to spot one identical to the little glass dinosaur which used to inhabit Lofty’s windowsill.

Fearing having to give up, Dylan searched the smaller half of the shop again, repeating his movements to see if he’d missed any.

Twenty minutes remaining… The number hung in his head as he searched even more desperately than before.

“Dylan?” Rita stood behind him holding up a blue and white striped paper bag, folded over at the top. “They had one left; it was on a display near the door.

Relief hit Dylan like a ton of bricks; “Oh thank heavens, thank you Reenie!” and then he realised, “Wait… let me pay you back for that.”

“Dylan, lets focus on getting home in one piece for now, and we can sort that out later.”

“Ah yes, good idea” Dylan nodded, placing his hands on his hips, and then removed them again, cautious of the amount of glass surrounding him, and not wishing to pay a large bill for breaking numerous pieces with his elbows.

***

Once back in the car, Dylan felt himself finally relax ever-so-slightly; it would take less than five minutes to get back to the boat, and then he could put the dinosaur back where it belonged and pretend like nothing ever happened. While he hated that he’d have to lie to his son, the consequences of his not lying would be far more detrimental to Lofty, and Dylan was willing to accept lying over that.

“Thank you so much Reenie” Dylan smiled gratefully at her as he stepped out of the car, before turning and leaning back in, “Come in for some tea?”

“Okay” Rita smiled back up at him, “Thank you”

Dylan walked ahead and unlocked the door to the boat, while Rita went to find a better place to park. Breathing a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the boat, he paced into Lofty’s room and unwrapped the figurine, placing the little glass dinosaur back in its original position on the windowsill.

He stepped back and vowed to dust the next day – this time with no breakages.

***

“Dad, I’m home!” Lofty called through the boat as he shut the door behind him and removed his jacket.

“Through here, my boy” Dylan replied and Lofty went through to his bedroom, dropping his bag on his bed and glancing out the window absentmindedly, before turning and following the voices through into the kitchen.

“How was your day, Dad?” Lofty asked, coming forward and hugging Rita and then Dylan in turn.

“Not bad, did a bit of tidying; what about you?”

“Quite tiring actually” Lofty answered, taking a seat beside Dylan, “They’ve got us making our own lesson plans for a case study about secondary schools”. Lofty was studying to become a teacher at Holby University, and as much as he enjoyed it, he also found it quite tiring at the same time.

“If you need any help, you know where to come for it” Dylan smiled, gesturing towards himself and Rita.

“Thank you, is there anything I can do?” Lofty asked, the smile not leaving his face as he rolled his hoodie sleeves up. He often asked this question upon getting home each night, but Dylan rarely asked him to do anything when he did.

Tonight however, Dylan could think of one thing that didn’t get done.

“If you’re not too tired, you could dust your windowsill?” Dylan asked, “I was going to do it today, but I got a bit busy elsewhere” He admitted, still feeling the guilt from earlier despite having fixed the problem.

“Sure thing” Lofty smiled, “Oh and can Iain and Max come over later please?”

“Of course” Dylan smiled back, watching fondly as Lofty took a dusting rag and loped out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

***

Lofty hummed some of the songs from Joseph – the performance he’d been in the previous month with the university drama society – as he turned each figurine over to dust it’s underside, before placing them gently on his bed to avoid dropping or knocking them on the floor. About halfway through doing this, he picked up his favourite, a little glass dinosaur Rita had given him for his eighth – or rather first – birthday.

And then he froze.

Each figure had its name painted in tiny font on the base with pink nail polish; something he’d done since he’d first started collecting them, but now… Where was Harry’s name?

He knew where it should be, and he was completely sure it was there, since he’d dusted it only last week, and the name had been there on its left foot, bold as ever.

Taking the dinosaur carefully in both hands so as not to drop it, Lofty walked slowly into the kitchen where Rita and Dylan still sat, talking over mugs of tea.

“Dad?” Dylan’s blood froze as he saw what Lofty was holding, and he felt panic creep over him; had they picked up the wrong figurine? Dylan was sure they hadn’t, he could recognise which one’s Lofty did and didn’t have from a mile away.

“Yes, my boy?” He answered as nonchalantly as he could manage.

“I think something’s happened to Harry… My figures, they all have their names painted underneath, but his has gone, and I know it didn’t rub off because it can’t have done.” Lofty looked confused and a little upset, so Dylan gestured to the chair opposite him as Rita nudged him under the table, prompting him to come clean.

“Uh” He coughed, “Ben, I think I should tell you something…”

Lofty looked at him, confused as ever.

“I dropped Harry this afternoon when I went to dust your room, and Rita and I went out and bought a replacement because we didn’t want to hurt you by having broken your first ever birthday present…”

“Oh…”

“I’m sorry Ben” Dylan looked guiltily across the table to where his son stared at the object in his hands dejectedly.

“You didn’t have to lie Dad.” Lofty’s voice was quiet as he placed the dinosaur down on the table in front of him and looked up at Dylan, “You could have just told me straight, I wouldn’t have been mad”

“I’m sorry” Dylan replied earnestly, and Lofty knew he was serious.

“It’s okay Dad” He spoke softly twirling the dinosaur absentmindedly in a little circle.

“Reenie and I were discussing a trip back to the glass shop so you could choose another to add to your collection this weekend actually” Dylan told him, reaching across the table to take his son’s hand.

Lofty squeezed back and Rita smiled quietly at the two of them.

“Thank you, but I need to save for a new laptop” Lofty replied with a smile once more. Dylan wondered for a moment how Lofty managed to keep smiling constantly.

“Oh no, I’d pay for it, don’t worry about that!” Dylan corrected himself, “I know you’d like one of the more modern laptops.”

“Are you sure?” Lofty asked, “The figures are expensive…”

“Of course; as an apology for breaking it, and they aren’t so expensive you know; I’d do anything…”

“Thank you Dad” Lofty smiled up at him, before standing carefully, cautious of the little glass dinosaur, and moving around to Dylan’s side of the table to hug him tightly.

“It’s okay, my boy” Dylan chuckled as he hugged his son back.

“Really, thank you Dad” Lofty repeated and Dylan held him a little tighter before loosening his hold so Lofty could step away.

“And thank you Auntie Rita” He hugged her too, thinking back to his first proper birthday, ten years ago.

“It’s okay Lofty” Rita smiled as Lofty pulled away and took his dinosaur again carefully.

“I’m just gonna go put Harry back in my room” He smiled, turning on his heel and making his way back to his room carefully. He placed the dinosaur back in its place and decided to leave the rest of the dusting until the next day as he put the rest of his figurines back in place on the windowsill.

For now, he was going to spend the evening with Dylan and Rita, just like old times - Until Max and Iain arrived anyway...

#shoelace fandom #fierce brave gang #please review :)

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ostermahaus · 7 years

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It’s Morphin’ Time! Eventually... Power Rangers Review

Saban’s Power Rangers opens darkly. You see a blasted torn up landscape of prehistoric Earth with the Red Ranger dragging himself across it, obviously injured. He crawls to the Yellow Ranger, also lying prone who morphs into an alien and hands her coin to him, telling him to hide it before dying in his arms. Yikes. He morphs into Zordon (Bryan Cranston) and puts his coin with the others he’s carrying, instructing Alpha via communicator to fire a meteorite at his current location. He turns to find himself face to face with a female Green Ranger named Rita (Elizabeth Banks) who he accuses of being a traitor and killing his team. She boasts that she’s won when Zordon informs her it’s too late and a meteor comes crashing down on them sending her to the bottom of the sea. Also wiping out the dinosaurs, I presume. I guess nuking from orbit was the only way to be sure. Smash cut to a bunch of jocks leading a bull into a locker room as a prank and we meet Jason Scott (Dacre Montgomery) who informs us that he calmed the cow down by milking it. Womp womp. Your protagonist can’t tell an udder from a dong, not a great start. The cops show up and after the most nausea inducing go-pro car chase I’ve ever encountered (Seriously, I saw Gravity on the UltraScreen in 3D and this almost made me vomit) he gets in a horrific wreck and we have a title screen. Go go Power Rangers? If you never watched the show this may seem exciting. If you did, well here’s why it might not be what you were expecting.

Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers hit children in 1993 with a blast of popularity that overpowered the Ninja Turtles and kept kids riveted until Pokemon came along at the end of the decade! A Japanese import, it was cheesy, silly, campy and formulaic and pre-teens ate it up! As well as some teens. I was just hitting the age where I felt like I was outgrowing Saturday morning/after school shows (Thank God that phase didn’t last) so I was never a die hard fan, but I knew enough people that were that I kept abreast of the original shows run. I watched a fair number of episodes with my friends more due to our love of riffing it a la Mystery Science Theater 3000 than anything else… Although I will admit that Kimberly (Amy Jo Johnson) kept me on board a bit as well. The premise was simple. Five teenagers from Angel Grove are given magic coins that allow them to morph into Power Rangers. Spandex clad ninjas with full coverage helmets who can summon robot dinosaurs called Zords and merge them Voltron style into a giant Mega Zord to win the day. They answer to Zordon, a giant holographic head, and fight the monsters that Rita Repulsa repeatedly sends down from the moon. Ninjas, dinosaurs and giant robots. It was famous for the obvious cut between the American actors doing their day to day thing and the original Japanese footage being used once they were in costume. Ever wonder why Kimberly was the only Ranger wearing a skirt? Because the Yellow Ranger in that Japanese footage is a dude. (The more you know!) That’s all you needed and it’s still on the air in some iteration to this day! Why mess with a good thing? If it’s not broke, right?

Unfortunately Hollywood is following a current and overused trend of trying to make things dark and gritty when they reboot them right now. That’s not to say it can’t work, but it really feels like a forced excutive decision by the movie companies some times. This new Power Rangers update has a lot of things that work really well for it as they try to make a serious and less campy approach to one of the most popular cheese fests ever. They also make some big missteps. I know that Zordon famously asked for “teenagers with attitude” in the original and wound up with the nicest kids in town, but this version makes an over correction by having three of them meet in detention and one of them just not go to school at all. Turns out Jason has to wear an ankle bracelet now and report to detention for the rest of the year and lost all sorts of football scholarships. As soon as he walks in he sees Billy (RJ Cyler) being bullied for OCD behavior arranging things on his desk. Jason puts a stop to it and Billy immediately declares him his new best friend for sticking up for him! I really liked Billy in this movie, but they make a very clear point early on to have him state that he’s on the autism spectrum and they play it pretty well until he becomes a Ranger. Then it just seems to disappear and he’s merely giddy all the time. He’s adorkable, sure, and probably the most likeable character but it would have been nice to see them stick to his spectrum tendencies. Jason is fairly dismissive until he offers to use his skills to hack Jason’s ankle bracelet in order for them to hang out. How all true friendships begin!

Next we meet Kimberly Heart (Naomi Scott) who was set up by her cheerleader ‘friends’ for an incriminating picture that’s been circulating around school and they show up to inform her that she no longer gets to be a plastic. It makes her so angry that she gives herself a kicky new haircut in the bathroom that Jason is immediately smitten by when she returns from the restroom! After Billy hacks the ankle device, he and Jason go into a restricted area of the gold mine outside Angel Grove because apparently Billy likes to blast there. Even though it’s an active mine with security. Shrug While Billy is setting his charges, Jason goes off to hike around and spies Kimberly cliff diving while We get Zack (Ludi Lin) and Trini (Becky G.) dropped in as just random kids who are also hanging out in an active work zone after dark. Her to practice her Karate Kid poses and him to watch her through binoculars. Like you do. Anyway, Billy’s blast draws them all and they discover 5 glowing coins embedded in the rock. After cutting them out, they each grab one and then alarms go off, summoning security and another slightly less vomit inducing chase that AGAIN ends in a horrific crash, this time with a train. The next morning they all wake up at home with no injuries and no knowledge of how they survived the wreck, plus sick abs and super strength! Wanna know how they managed that without being seen? Or what Billy’s mom’s reaction is to the destruction of HER van? (You see the wreck later on being pulled off the tracks) You’re out of luck! Anyway, they get together and decide to go back to try to find answers about the coins and discover a buried spaceship manned by Alpha 5 (Bill Hader) and Zordon’s memory in the ship’s computer. He informs them that they’re the Power Rangers and they need to learn to defend the universe once they can learn to morph! Eventually…

I don’t know if it came with the casting of Bryan Cranston but the biggest drawback of this film is that at 2 hours almost every minute of the Rangers suited up has been shown in the trailers because it only happens in the films final action scene, similar to my beef with Godzilla not having enough Godzilla. There are training montages aplenty and I really did appreciate the effort it made to give the core cast some substance behind there characters that wasn’t there before, but it’s pace could best be described as deliberate. The film seems to work the best when it’s trying to have some fun and not brooding so much, which is all too often. The scene of all the nerd kids idolizing Billy after he knocks out a bully without trying and then being in awe when he gets pulled from the table by Kimberly? Great! Fun little scene, use more moments like that as opposed to repeated instances of people mispronouncing Trini as DeeDee. ??? I assume it’s a joke but I just don’t get it and boy do they keep pushing it. I wish they had done more with Zack as he had a lot of potential in his backstory. He doesn’t attend school any more because you find out he’s caring for his terminally ill mother but aside from that reveal he just gets all the “I’m gonna shout quips!” style lines. Don’t try taking a drink every time he calls Trini “Crazy Girl”, it won’t end well. Jason is fine in his role as the leader, but as is the curse of the leader role (Cyclops, Leonardo), is pretty bland. Kimberly and Trini are both solid female role models although I wish they would have come right out with Trini’s sexuality/crush on Kimberly rather than just heavily alluding to it. Although I was disappointed by him dropping the autism traits halfway through, I thought Billy in the second half was the most relatable character. He’s just so giddy every time they bring up the fact they get to be Rangers!

I was not a fan of the design choices for Alpha and the Zords. Alpha was thankfully less obnoxious than the original, but his super long arms on the tiny body just looked weird and creepy. Props to Hader for making me not hate him! The Zords… I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. I’ll be honest, aside from the T-Rex and the Pterodactyl they could have been anything. I had to go online after the movie because I couldn’t remember if the Triceratops was Blue or Black because I couldn’t tell them apart. Turns out it’s Blue. For as many montages as we were dealt and given the movies run time, I’d have preferred to see them learning their suits and Zords right off the bat as opposed to trying and failing to Morph a half dozen times and then finally getting it right just in time for the final battle where they go in operating things they’ve never used before. I know I’m overthinking it, but I hate when people just innately know how to use things like that.

Lastly we come to the villains. I’ve got really mixed feelings on this part. I appreciate they wanted to take it more seriously, and I like what they did with Rita but DAMN. They may have made her a bit too intense for the audience that’s generally associated with Power Rangers! Banks is great and and she is wonderfully creepy and terrifying but there is a scene where she’s killed some police officers and you see that she’s ripped the teeth out of one and has dismembered/is CANNIBALIZING the other. This is while she’s still in her slightly mummified state after a fishing boat pulls up her body and it’s horror movie levels of creepy as she gets her power back to create Goldar. Because he’s made of gold, see? I don’t quite get her power set because at first she’s brutally murdering people for their gold, then eating it (WTF?) then just pointing at it and drawing it to her in liquid form. At least she gets to say “Make my monster grow.”

Overall, it’s not bad. It’s not as action packed as you’d expect, but what references do show up are all well placed and fun. You get some cameos and throwback lines. Ay-yi-yi and what not. My favorite reference was when two boys were arguing who got to be the Red Ranger while they’re playing and Trini tells them, “Why not Yellow?” “That’s a girl!” “How do you know?” lol Love the message and the nod to the original Yellow I mentioned earlier, but unfortunately undercut by the obvious sculpted boob armor on Pink and Yellow… Best moment, bar none, was when they played the original theme. Unfortunately it’s just one refrain then back to generic orchestration, but the theater I was in was electrified when it came on! I’m not made of stone, that riff is freaking amazing. You could tell everyone was a bit bummed when it didn’t continue throughout the fight. As usual anymore, stay through the credits. There’s a mid credit scene that I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to call before it happens but it’s there. LOL at the guys behind me talking loudly throughout the film complaining about the very thing the scene was about and leaving before it happened. That’s what you get for being terrible movie attendants! If you were a fan of the show as a kid, I think you’ll have a great time! If you’re bringing your kids because of how much YOU loved it… Just be aware it gets really dark and creepy in places and might move a bit slow if they have to wait over 90 minutes to see any Morphin’ Time.

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