Ste. Anne de Beaupré was a long standing parish in London.
Old. Settled. Desperately trying to keep up with the times.
She stood outside it’s gate waiting for Jamie to get off the phone.
Well, waiting for Jamie to stop pacing and shouting into the phone.
“What d’ye mean I’m to leave off?” Jamie ran a hand through his hair making the copper tones glint and flash in the afternoon sun.
“We don’t need trouble with the Catholic Church, James. You don’t have a warrant to search the school.” Detective Chief Inspector Grey’s voice was like ice. Jamie couldn’t understand why he was blocking this investigation.
“I’m no’ here to cause trouble. A boy is deid. His father’s in jail yet still refuses to speak to us. Another boy passed two days ago. Ye have to admit the circumstances are suspicious, to say the least. I’m just going to look around!” Jamie looked at Claire and shrugged dramatically.
“And with whom are you investigating?” Grey looked out of his office window. He knew the answer already.
Jamie paused. His eyes narrowed. He could feel the anger bubbling. Fuck you, John Grey. But he answered him honestly nonetheless.
“I brought the M.E. Dr. Claire Randall.”
“Of course you did. Because she’s a detective. Because she has so much experience in field work. Because -”
“BECAUSE -” Jamie shouted, then lowered his voice when John stopped talking, “she has a keen mind and a keener eye.” Jamie took a deep breath and tried to unclench his jaw.
“I’m going into this school. Sir.” he said as an after thought. “I’ll be speaking to Father Anselm, the Head Master. And then I’ll report back in.”
Jamie disconnected the call.
The phone rang again almost immediately. Jamie muted it. Stuffed the phone in his pocket.
“Jamie maybe we shouldn’t -” the last thing Claire wanted was to see Jamie in trouble.
“I’ll do the talkin’, ken?” he pushed open the gate. “Ye just let me know what ye see.”
“So what do you think, Dr. Fraser?” The priest looked over at the woman. Perhaps she didn’t hear him. “Dr. Fraser?” he said louder.
“Claire,” Jamie spoke. “Honey. Father is speaking to ye.”
Claire whipped around. Oh, God. She hadn’t caught her name. Dr. Fraser, indeed. Jamie raised an eyebrow at her, willing her to answer.
She played with the ring on her left hand. Jamie’s father’s ring. He wore it on his little finger. She now wore it on her wedding ring finger.
It felt strange.
The vision it induced, stranger still.
“Well, it’s quite an old building, isn’t it? But the Science Lab saves it, to be honest.” She gave Father Anselm a small, tight smile.
Honestly. How does he do this? Undercover work, pretending to be someone else. Rather be elbows deep resecting a tumour.
“The recent updates have been a blessing. Your child is interested in Science?” Father asked politely as he led them back out into the courtyard.
“Isn’t every child?” Jamie said, and smiled. “Might we see the grounds?”
He changed the subject. He had been quite adept up to this point of dancing around the question of a child. And after Grey’s outburst he dared not pretend there was one.
With Claire wearing his ring, the quiet, grave woman at reception assumed they were married. When he asked for a tour from the Head Master she introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. He simply mentioned Claire was a doctor.
No lies told.
The long black cassock floated over the uneven cobbles as the priest walked in front of them.
Speaking back over his shoulder he said, “We’ve good teachers here. And a strong community of parents.”
“Well, that’s wonderful, isn’t it Claire?” When she didn’t answer Jamie turned around.
Claire stood off to the side of the courtyard. Her body rigid. Eyes fixed.
Jesus, God, let me get there afore she stumbles, he thought. He took three steps towards her before she spoke.
Loudly. Firmly. Aggressively.
“What is in there?” Her head turned slowly towards Father Anselm. Her eyes were cold. Her features, defiant. She was daring him to lie to her.
She already knew.
Father Anselm moved towards her, his manner as friendly as ever.
“Oh! Yes, well, that used to be a small chapel. We don’t use it, of course. It’s old…much too dangerous to go in there. It’s part of the original monastery, you know.”
Father looked around fondly over the grounds. “So much history here.”
Claire walked towards the weathered wooden door. “James would love to see it. He’s quite a history buff, aren’t you, darling?”
Jamie took his cue. “Could we, Father?”
“Well, I’m not sure,” Father Anselm said. “I’m certain it’s locked. At the very least boarded up from the inside, I’m afraid.” He moved towards the building.
Claire followed as if mesmerized.
Mary, Michael and Bride. Now is not the time for one o’ those visions that brings her to her knees.
Father Anselm pushed slowly on the door.
The ease with which it opened surprised the clergyman.
Rustic didn’t begin to describe the inside. The old altar was one step up from the red tile floor. The chairs were wood and wicker. Prie-Dieu chairs, they called them. It was cold. Candles lined the back of the wall around a vividly carved crucifix and a painting of The Divine Mercy.
It all looked very normal. Very monastic.
And very recently used.
Father Anselm stepped into the ancient room, muttering to himself.
Jamie stepped up behind Claire. Close behind her. Just in case.
She stepped down into the chapel.
Then she started to shake.
Shake like she was standing outside, naked, in the middle of a December night.
Her teeth chattered. Her muscles spasmed. She felt Jamie’s arm curl around her shoulder. He pushed her two steps forward and sat her in a chair. Conversation hummed around her but she couldn’t concentrate fully to hear it.
Jamie was roaming around the small, close room. Scanning. Searching. Noticing.
Metal rings under the edge of the altar table. Straps in a side drawer. Oils. Incense. Crucifixes. Holy Water vessels. Rosary beads. Bible.
And traces of blood.
She dropped her head. She knew now.
Father Anselm was not the problem. But someone at this school was. And they needed to work fast.
“Father,” Jamie said to the confused, worried old cleric. “Ye do realize I’m going to need to call this in.”
Jamie put Claire in a squad car, leaning across to help her shaking hands buckle the seat belt. Unnoticed by others he kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“I’ll be over as soon as I can. Promise.” He withdrew from the vehicle, and gave the officer her address, along with a series of instructions.
While she waited Claire looked up at the school.
A chill shivered down her spine again. The woman at reception was looking out the window at her. Spine straight. Dull grey clothes. Lifeless eyes.
Claire watched as the woman placed her hand on the glass, palm flat.
Claire saw her suddenly, in that chapel. Rosary in hand. Eyes shut. Blackness dancing around the room. Her words, chanting. Deliver us from evil. Miserere mei, Deus.
Claire placed her hand on the window of the car in empathy.
She jumped when the officer slammed the door. The engine started and off they went.
The woman watched her until she fell out of sight.
D.C. Mohr and D. C. MacKenzie arrived with the forensics team. They oversaw the bagging of the religious articles. Watched as the team took swabs of the darker spots on the altar that resembled blood.
Jamie took a formal statement from Father Anselm. There was one thing of which he was certain. The priest was blissfully ignorant of the goings on at his school. He did what he could to wrap up the scene. He sat in his car and watched the forensics truck pull away. He waved off Mohr and MacKenzie.
One thing left to do before he could check on Claire.
He walked onto his floor at New Scotland Yard with his anger simmering. He headed straight to his Chief Inspector’s office. Stepping into John Grey’s room, he shut the door behind him.
“What the hell, Fraser?”
Jamie ignored him. He walked over to a small side table and pulled it out into the middle of the room. The chess board was already set up. Jamie pulled over a chair, took off his jacket and draped it over the back. Then, he sat.
And waited for his boss to join him.
John Grey stood. Threw his pen on the desk. Reluctantly came out from behind it. Pulled a chair over and sat down heavily. Made the first move.
They played in silence for ten minutes.
Finally, Jamie spoke.
“I dinna need yer permission,” he said softly.
“You’ve lost your perspective. Your decisions are…compromised.” D.C.I. Grey moved his queen’s bishop. “Whisky?”
“I thank ye.” Jamie leaned over the board. Lost in thought.
Grey stood up and poured them both a drink.
“James. You cannot take the M.E. out on police business. I forbid it.”
“It’s your move, Chief Inspector.” Jamie took a sip from the glass that was offered.
Grey walked around the table and sat, glass in hand. He leaned over to take a pawn, and smiled.
Jamie sat as still as marble. He finally drew a long breath.
“A long time ago we sat here. Played chess.” He moved a rook. “And ye took a liberty ye shouldn’t have.” Jamie’s blue eyes pinned Grey to his chair.
Grey knew that look. He’d seen it once before. Feared it. Feared that he had lost his career when that gaze struck him like a blow.
“I didna say a word to anyone. I simply told ye to take yer hand off me.”
“Or you would kill me,” Grey added.
“Aye.” Jamie took another drink and drained his glass. “So. Understand. I willna have ye tell me what I can and canna do with Claire.”
“Why, James?” Grey couldn’t keep the slight pleading from his voice. Hated himself for it, but could not stop it. “She’s really not that special.”
He did not expect James’ reaction. Could not have predicted it.
Jamie stood and in one smooth motion grasped the edge of the small table, and flipped it forward.
Chess pieces flew. Caught Grey in the face. He didn’t move fast enough and the edge of the table caught his knee. The pain shot through John. He dropped his glass and it shattered.
John looked up into the dark blue gaze. He couldn’t look away, or blink.
Jamie grabbed his jacket, and without a sound, left the room.
Previous installment:Samhain(Jamie stumbles upon a new community)
“Jamie?” I called urgently across the evening-shadowed house, rustling the pages on the rolltop. “Jamie? Did you move my essay?”
Ah yes, My Essay:
Why should you be admitted to Harvard University’s Program for Correspondent Students?
Well, you see, honorable gentlemen of the admissions committee, my applications for medical school a few years hence—even if not at Ivy League institutions— will need to look as goddamned impressive as can possibly be mustered, since they will almost certainly be reviewed by a panel of elderly male fuddy-duddies like yourselves.
Thus, having Harvard University on my CV (even if it’s only for these pre-requisite courses), will only serve to impress said fuddy-duddies, and as a female with a spotty-at-best record in formal education, I need all the bloody help I can get.
The almost-final draft of my personal statement had been more subtle, but it was God’s honest truth.
I’d been working incessantly on the damned thing for weeks, sleeping little and poorly from the stress. I’d downed more coffee than I’d previously have deemed safe for human beings, and was looking and feeling decidedly the worse for wear for it all.
Meanwhile, my sainted husband had tirelessly picked up my slack with the house and with Bree night after night as I hunched over the desk, scribbling and scratching out. This last week, in particular, he’d given me more than enough space, bless him, speaking softly, keeping Bree out of my hair, giving kisses, but not initiating sex, nor even the casual touches that were so much a part of our daily rhythm with one another. I knew he meant well by it—to allow me to focus my non-hospital- and non-sleep-hours upon the task at hand… but LORD, another part of me wished that he would just hoist me out of my chair, throw me onto the ground, and give me an hour’s rough relief from my own mind and Harvard blasted University! I didn’t hold it against him, of course, and it would be over soon, in any case, but his walking on eggshells around me was its own breed of stress.
‘Stress’—such a tiny word for so much inner turmoil. It wasn’t just the essay in front of me or the way my gut had felt all tied in knots for the past week; it was the entire trajectory of which this was only the first step: the prerequisite courses, the MCATs, applications, interviews, medical school, internship, residency, fellowship—the next decade or more of my life! So much would hinge on every single decision I made from here on out. I couldn’t afford any mistakes, starting with this bloody essay.
I had put the entire packet together last night in the Manila envelope: application, references, ESSAY. Stamps, on. Addresses, penned. Seal…well…left UN-sealed, because I wasn’t bloody ready. And good thing, too, for I’d spent my entire shift that day replaying the words in my mind, every phrase sounding wretched, every choice of words trite or cliché or childish, and screaming for another revision. I’d rushed home, called a ‘hello, darling,’ to Jamie, who was tucking Bree in for the night, and then gone directly to the rolltop, still in my coat and hat, to read it through again and exorcise this demon. Except my packet wasn’t there.
“Jamie??” I called again, louder, my anxiety mounting. I hissed at two suddenpapercuts as I rummaged frantically again through the stack. “Darling? Did Penelope say anything about moving my—”
“Sassenach, keep your voice down, for God’s sake—” Jamie whispered loudly as he came around the living room door, looking harried. “Brianna’s only just gotten to sleep, lass!”
I lowered my voice but not my urgency, and I barely even looked up. “The envelope with my application and personal statement? Have you seen it? I swear, it was right on top of the stack with the blue folder here on the desk.”
“Oh, aye, I sent it in.”
“What?” I laughed weakly, still rummaging. “Ha-ha, very funny.”
“I did,” he said simply, “I mailed it in.”
I froze. And STARED at him. “What?”
“It was complete. The deadline was coming up in a few days; so,” he shrugged, ACTUALLY shrugged, “I mailed it in for ye.”
“It was NOT complete.”
The words came out low and lethal, and I could see Jamie’s shirt-too-tight-shrug that indicated he heard the danger in them. “Ye packed it all in the mailing envelope, no? It was ready to be submitted.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t ready to send it yet!”
He made a small sound of carefully-controlled exasperation. “Claire, mo chridhe, how should I have known th–”
“You should have asked! You should have called me at work to ASK!” I threw up my hands. “Not just assumed that I was ready to have it sent off without my permission!”
He squirmed perceptibly but wasn’t giving in. “Lass, you’ve been slaving over that essay for weeks. You’ve barely slept—You put it in the envelope, wi’ the address and stamps and everything. I read it again last night after ye went to bed and it was perfect.”
The truth was that despite my obsessing over it, it HAD probably been as bloody close to perfect as I could get it. I’d double-checked and triple-checked and quadruple-checked; revised and wordsmithed it to within an inch of its life. But I’d wanted to wait ‘til the very last moment to send it in, to feel absolutely certain it was as good as I could make it; and having that control so unexpectedly pulled out from beneath me—
“—Even if it had been, Jamie, you still had no—NO—bloody right—”
He ran his hands back through his hair. “Sassenach, come now, it’s no’ as though—”
“Jamie, this isn’t a recipe I’m sending to a Ladies’ Magazine!” I didn’t know what to do with my hands but they gestured wildly in my livid rage and tears. “This is—was—Harvard!”
“I ken it IS Harvard,” he said pointedly, putting his hands firmly on my shoulders “—and I ken you’re going to be ACCEPTED there when they read your—”
“And what the hell would YOU know about it?” I snapped, perceiving only the hurt flashing across his face before I was down the hallway and into the bathroom, locking the door. I yanked the shower handle and sunk down against the tub, letting the water mask the sounds of my weeping.
A few minutes later, Jamie was knocking softly on the door.
His voice was quiet, and, I thought, abashed. “Claire…? May I come in?”
I covered my mouth so he couldn’t hear me. I felt tears trickling over my hand but I wouldn’t open my eyes. It’s not the end of the world, Beauchamp.
A long silence.
He was leaning against the door, I thought.
“It was…an impulsive thing I did— I—” he sighed miserably. “—I thought better of it throughout the day, but…Christ, i’m sorry…It was foolish. I was wrong to do it…”
A long silence.
A long…long silence.
“I’m truly…truly sorry, Claire.”
I took a deep breath.
It would be alright. I hadn’t been ready, but the essay was fine. Jamie regretted what he’d done. It would be alright.
But I was too spent and too upset to consider opening the door.
He HAD been wrong to do it—knew not ten minutes after the post had gone that he’d made a grave error in judgement. But the essay had been perfect, BRILLIANT, and Claire had been so plagued by self-doubt over it. It was as if she had placed her entire sense of her own worth upon success in this single endeavor, this single writing. He’d simply wished her to feel as if she had finally accomplished the thing, after such a harrowing period these last few weeks.
But she was completely right: what he wished her to feel was irrelevant, and he had betrayed her trust. She was well within her rights not to be ready to forgive him.
He waited more than an hour, until long after he’d heard her enter the bedroom; giving her the space she apparently wanted. At last, though, he entered the darkened room.
She was already in bed with her back turned to him. Asleep? He couldn’t tell—but even if she were awake, he didn’t expect her to speak until morning. He deserved her fury for at least that long.
He undressed and slipped quietly under the covers, taking care not to jostle her. Without really thinking about it, he mirrored her posture, coming to rest on his side, facing away from her.
He listened to the clock tick and tried to let it lull him to sleep.
“Can’t you at least bring yourself to have sex with me?” Sharp. Wide awake. Dangerous.
Startled, he blurted, bewildered. “Bring myself—?”
He felt her bolt upright beside him, her hands slamming onto the bedspread. Her voice was still laced with anger, but desperate, forbye, and hurting. “Jamie, you haven’t touched me in a week! I need to—to feel close to—”
“You’ve never wished me to have ye during your courses before, Sassenach,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face as he rolled onto his back. “Do ye really want to that badly tonight?” His ‘especially when you’re not too keen on me at the moment, in any case,’ was implied. He would serve her, of course, if she wished it, but–
“I’m not on my goddamned ‘courses,’ you absolute bastard!”
Jamie opened his mouth to fire back.
—but then, she gasped—
—a tiny sound, barely more than a sharp breath, really, but so deeply unlike Claire that—
He was on his knees beside her in an instant. She was kneeling on the mattress, too, clad in only her underclothes, both hands clapped over her mouth. “Oh, God,” she croaked between her fingers, her eyes wide and wide and wider.
“Mo ghraidh—?” He grappled for her face, pushing back the wildness of her hair to hold her between his hands. “Mo chridhe
“Oh—God!” she said again, eyes brimming and hyper-focused upon nothing, her mouth gaping open and shut, “—I didn’t—I was so busy, I hadn’t been—No—” she moaned softly as he lifted her and gathered her, cradled her to him. Her body was rigid, pushing back, and her head shaking violently back and forth. “No,” she wept, “no, no, it’s—Jamie, it’s too soon.“ He could see her eyes sparkling with life through her tears, even as she tried to resist the truth. “We can’t—can’t know for certain—not yet.”
“Six days, Claire—” he gasped, his free hand roaming up her back to cup her cheek, hard. “One day—two days, maybe, but—SIX?”
She lowered her fingers tentatively to graze the natural curve of her belly. Jamie watched in a trance as her palm slowly came to lay flat against her skin. “Oh, God,” she whispered, swaying on her knees and leaning her forehead against his shoulder as her arms came around him. “Jamie…Jamie…”
He held her and rocked her (THEM!) and kissed her, crying, laughing—but then remembered—
“I'm—truly sorry about the application, mo nighean donn,” he choked out, feeling the guilt seize this moment of joy. “It was your task—your choice—It wasna my place at all to—”
“Forgiven,” she whispered, putting her fingers to his lips and shaking her head. “Forgiven…. And I’m sorry, too….for what I said—I didn’t mean—”
He kissed her, and she kissed him, and there was nothing except her arms; her fingers cupping the back of his head; the taste of her tears and his; her lips; her sweet voice, breaking. “Jamie...Jamie, I’m so—happy—”
He couldn’t say a word. He could only nod his head slowly over and over again, completely overcome, his shoulders shaking. His heart felt ready to burst as he watched his wife, her face shining, go softly to her back and reach up for him. “Come to me?”
And he came to her, made love to her—the only woman he’d ever had; the only one he would ever have in his lifetime.
And as he lay awake long after, holding her, cupping the bairn that slept within her, he prayed; but unlike the night more than two years ago when he’d held Brianna in this same fashion, heart breaking from despair and fear and the looming specter of death, his prayer this night was hopeful and strong.
Wow! I loved that movie so much. I wanted to go right back in as soon as it was over with. Since I JUST got out, here are a few jumbled thoughts that I have about it. SPOILERS warnings apply:
•Jon Bernthal was hardly in it at all. I thought he was gonna be in it and be a villain, but nope. Showed up once and you never see him again. For the short time he was on screen, he was good.
•Ansel Elgort was AMAZING!!! He is going to be my generation’s leading man. Seriously, this dude’s got a bright future ahead of him. He was charismatic, charming, and adorable, but you bought it when he was being a bad ass.
•I LOVED the character of Baby. Oh my god. Just everything. The fact that he loves music. The fact that he knows sign language because his foster father is deaf. The fact that he’d been driving since he was “tall enough to see over the dashboard.” Possibly the most likable protagonist I’ve seen in years.
•Kevin Spacey Yo! You can’t go wrong with Kevin Spacey.
•Jamie Foxx (Bats) freaking surprised me in this movie! I knew he was a damn good actor, but I’ve never seen Jamie Foxx be intimidating and scary (His role in Spider-Man was neither). He was fantastic in this movie. I bought that he was this scary criminal who wasn’t just intimidating because he would shoot someone in the face for no reason. Bats was like a frigging Sherlock! Deducing his partners and talking about their weaknesses. Dude was crazy!
•Lily James as Deborah was really good. Her accent kept changing and that threw me a little. But she was adorable and she had great chemistry with Baby. I totally bought their relationship, although I did get some Romeo and Juliet vibes. They only knew each other for a few days and he claimed that he loved her. That was the only part that really took me out of the movie. But I could buy it.
•Buddy and Darling could have been really annoying. But Jon Hamm and Eiza González’s chemistry really grabbed me and I loved their characters separate and especially together. Buddy actually turned out to be my favorite character because I legitimately could not have called where they took his character and I like it when movies surprise me. On top of that, Jon Hamm was so sexy in this movie, oh my god. I found it hard to concentrate when he was on screen because of how god damn good looking Buddy was. I have a villain complex to begin with, but making Jon Hamm a bad guy… *drools* I won’t say anymore.
•The stunts were amazing but what made the action scenes INCREDIBLE was how Edgar Wright synced the scenes with the music. The gun shots and crashes and shifting gears were all synced to whatever music Baby was listening to and it was awesome. Along with the random high pitches throughout the movie to remind us that Baby had tinnitus, the audio in this movie really helped the audience see and hear the world as Baby did.
In short, go see Baby Driver. It was such a unique movie with amazing, well developed, colorful characters, a banging soundtrack, AMAZING stunt work, and a satisfying ending. I promise this movie is not overhyped. It’s so good.
As promised in my teaser, here’s the newest chapter of Vegas! @outlandishchridhe and I are really really excited about where this story is going and we can’t wait to share it with you. There is a lot going on in this chapter, so it turned into another monster chapter and it’s broken up into 3 parts. The next chunks will come out on the next few Tuesdays, which will hopefully give us enough time to get 19 written and edited.
Catch up on chapter 17 HERE or the whole series HERE
Claire sat down with a hard thump, still looking at the picture of her license on her phone. Jamie knelt down in front of her, taking in her vacant expression.
“Are ye alright?”
“Yeah, I’m just… I passed. It doesn’t feel real.”
“But ye did it. I’m so proud of ye, mo chridhe.”
Her eyes drifted up and met his.
“I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.”
“I didna do much. It was all your brilliance. Because this is what ye were meant for.”
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her forehead, as she breathed out a laugh.
So I uh, got a tattoo today. I’ll post another picture when it’s healed and will obviously look better. The guy (who was very sweet) didn’t do it exactly to my drawing, but I still love it because it’s more about the meaning and not being perfect.
It’s a bunch of YouTubers who I either grew up watching, who I share beliefs with, or who shaped me and my humour. Let’s see who we’ve got:
The “ ‘ELLO” is from Pinkstylist
The cat whiskers are from Dan @danisnotonfire and Phil @amazingphil
The lime is UPPERCASEchase @chaseross
The brofist is obviously PewDiePie
The checkered tie is TomSka @thetomska
The crank (Gizmo) is Crankgameplays @crankgameplays
The moustache/ mask is JammiDodger @jammi-dodger
The dragon crest is ThreadBanger @threadbanger
The eye (Septic Eye Sam) is Jacksepticeye @therealjacksepticeye
The box (Tiny Box Tim) is Markiplier @markiplier
The red swirly thing (it’s hair) is Boyinaband @davebiab
The banana is Jack & Dean
The MMBB is Jacksfilms (me me BIG boy)
The Kill Me mug is Steven Suptic 8
The Cry Guy is Cryaotic
The CS is CaptainSparklez
And that’s it. For now at least. I hope they see it!!
What do you get when you rely on a daily diet of pop music, television, and Hollywood? Baby Driver.
Edgar Wright’s Baby Driver is a thoroughly entertaining homage to pop culture. Borderline Tarantino-esque without being tiresome, it grabs the audience from bold, brazen opening all the way to its bombastic, bubblegum end. Interestingly enough, what makes this film original is that it’s intentionally formulaic. It draws from pop culture tropes to tell a tale as old as time: a man of few words doing one last, dangerous job, falls in love with a breathless waitress only to imperil her as his unsavory contacts come after them both and threaten his dream of a quiet, painfully normal life.
It’s a movie you’ve seen a thousand times before, and yet there’s nothing quite like it.
Baby Driver was non-stop pure fun, powered by a raucous soundtrack and a talented cast. Ansel Elgort is Baby, an amalgam of Ferris Bueller and Ryan Gosling’s character from Drive,and prolific getaway driver to a seriously bad batch of criminal elements that included Jon Hamm and Eliza González’s Bonnie and Clyde duo Buddy and Darling, Jamie Foxx’s perpetually paranoid Bats, and Jon Bernthal’s agro alpha male Griff. Kevin Spacey rounds out this ragtag group with his mild-mannered yet menacing Doc.
We learn that Baby was roped into this seedy underbelly because he once swiped a car that belonged to Doc. Big mistake, as Doc is some kind of criminal mastermind who, like the Lannisters, is all about those debts. Baby is at the mercy of Doc’s every beck and call, playing getaway driver to all sorts of crazy heists, from bank robberies to post office holdups. Baby doesn’t care much for this life of crime, but he trudges through it so he can get square with Doc and get out for good. But as we savvy consumers of Hollywood films know all too well, there’s no such thing as getting out for good.
Kudos to the stunt choreography in this film, because that opening intro was such a joy to watch. Special mention must be made for Jamie Foxx, who seemed to play the role of Bats with relish. His intensity leapt off the screen, and he made a fantastic antagonist to our young hero. Kevin Spacey, as per usual, brought his signature sneer and style to the film. Overall, Baby Driver boasted a solid cast of characters.
Music is a character of its own in Baby Driver, fueling Baby’s auto antics as he swerves and drifts through the streets in a series of adrenaline-pumping stunts. Elgort looks like he’s having a blast as he channels his best Ferris Bueller, flitting from scene to scene with an easy charisma far from expected from the Fault in our Stars actor. He infused Baby with a swagger that made him endlessly likable…almost too likable. But when you think about the story being deliberately referential, you suspend your disbelief and watch this smooth talking wheelman charm the pants off of Lily James’ blonde ingénue.
…which brings me to the subject of female tropes. On the surface, it’s easy to take umbrage at the clichés of women in the film. You’ve got James’ demure damsel who giggles at everything Baby says and González’s Darling, the fighting fucktoy who spends most of the film scantily clad and wrapped around Jon Hamm. So you’ve got the classic madonna/whore dichotomy, and a leading lady who solely exists to be the fulcrum for Baby’s man pain. But wait! Before you go and fetch your pitchforks, these stock characters of cinema are there for a reason. The whole film relies on your instant recognition of these tropes. Once the audience realizes this, the movie becomes a whole new experience.
It’s a risky concept, but one that Wright tackles with gusto. He imbues Baby Driver with humor, action, sweetness, and danger; it’s an odd mix of styles to throw into a single movie, to be sure, but as Tarantino’s True Romance demonstrates, it can be done. In keeping with its musical spirit, Baby Driver crescendoes through some predictable moments before saving the totally batshit for last: a grand finale that is so outlandish and over-the-top, it could have been straight out of a comic book.
And that’s the reason why Baby Driver is so good. It commits. It takes a leap of faith that the audience will trust that a movie can be based on Hollywood formulas yet still be told in a refreshing and exciting way. It’s almost too meta, pointing out that while we decry movie tropes and roll our eyes at cinema stereotypes, they can still be enjoyable if you’ve got a good story.
Oh, and let’s not forget that badass soundtrack, of course.
Junkrat and roadhog( not poly) how would they act if their wife (even after being married for like 5+ years) was still a blushy mess after kisses and hugs?
You bounced giddily at the edge of the vertiport, a wide grin settling on your lips as you watched the drop ship begin to descend. Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes had been away on a mission for the better part of a month, clearing out an Omnic factory in the Ukraine. You had been left on your own, receiving the intermittent call from your husband over the weeks he was away, making your heart ache. But now he was back and you didn’t have to worry or feel alone anymore–at least til his next mission. Junkrat shot off of the ship first, his orange eyes glowing as he caught sight of you.
He rushed forward, hobbling as fast as he could towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around. You giggled happily, your face beginning to burn as Jamison set you on the ground, covering your face in loving kisses. There were words mixed between his kisses, telling you how much he missed you and how much he loved you and how he could barely sleep without you there. The two of you had gotten married five years ago and yet every time he kissed you or hugged you, you felt like a giddy teenage girl with her first boyfriend. It just made you feel absolutely loved and adored and you couldn’t hold back the hot blush that seared across your cheeks whenever he showed you any affection.
“Jamie”, you whined with a smile, no real strength behind your voice as he kept littering kisses wherever he could reach before placing a searing kiss against your lips. He pulled back with his trademark wild grin, his manic titter filling the air as he took in your blush.
“You’re so damn cute”, he growled, hugging you tight and dipping you, kissing you again and making your face burn even darker.
Your hands jumped up to your face, muffling an amorous giggle as your eyes darted away from your husband of five years. You had snuck out of bed this morning to surprise him with breakfast and he was trying to show his appreciation for you little treat for him. His large hands settled on your hips, stopping your body from turning away from his, one of his hands coming up as he tilted your face up towards his. He had a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he bent over, moving closer to your face and gently pulling your hands away.
His deep, rumbling voice was gentle and playful, making a field of butterflies burst in your stomach. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, a deep red blush burning across your cheeks as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You hummed bashfully as he then moved from the top of your head to your forehead and both of your cheeks, toes curling as he finally made it to your lips. He swept you up into his arms, lifting you up effortlessly and standing up straight, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against yours. He squeezed you tight, his hand pushing your hair from out of your face as you tried to giggle and dip your head down and away from him.
He practically hummed that time, your blush climbing downwards and burning across your chest as you gulped and giggled once more. He held you tight to his chest before beginning to plant soft, sweet kisses all over your face once more, punctuating them with a soft rumble of happiness in his chest.
“Cutie”, he said simply, placing one last hard kiss against your lips, placing you back on the ground. “Thank you, tahu.”
hello everyone! after a verra long (and admittedly much needed) hiatus, i am back! so sorry for the disappearance. but, i come bearing gifts! this is just a short little piece inspired by the song “the night we met” by lord huron. this will be a two part project, so catch the next piece sometime soon!
all my love and thanks! feedback is welcomed, encouraged, and appreciated! enjoy :)
I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt.
He hunched his shoulders, bracing himself against a fresh gust of chilly wind. It wreathed itself around him, whipping his hair across his cheeks, and he clapped a hand to his head to keep his hat from being lost to the woods. Beneath him, his horse Arabus snorted once and shook his head, a small, fine dusting of water spraying off.
It had snowed earlier, just a brief dusting that made the ground crunch slightly underfoot and powdered the brim of his hat. A small collection of flakes had gathered on the gelding’s neck and mane but had long since melted, leaving both horse and rider damp and chilly. Jamie shuddered involuntarily against the cold and cupped his hands to his mouth in an attempt to warm his fingers.
Behind him, a twig snapped, and Jamie sat up immediately, swiveling around in the saddle with one hand already on his pistol. Arabus whipped his head around as well, ears pricked and eyes wide. He shifted his feet uneasily and gave a soft whinny. A small bead of sweat trickled down Jamie’s spine, and he licked his lips, relaxing after a moment. “Just the woods,” he murmured, leaning forward to pat the animal’s neck. “Nothin’ ta fash about.” Still, he risked a second glance over his shoulder. There was still nothing there. He let out a deep breath, fixed his cloak around his shoulders, and turned back around when he caught it out of the corner of his eye.
Mei cant sleep and decides to get a drink. Who she meets is a surprise.
Mei sat sipping a hot cup of tea in her room, content with
the hefty amount of data she’d sifted through. It had been a long day, but she
had enjoyed it, she relished going through the data she’d been collecting
throughout the week. It was fascinating, and once she’d finished she got to
bask in the glory of a job well done. She finished off her hot beverage and set
the empty mug down, she yawned loudly and stretched in her chair. Her little
robot friend Snowball beeped happily at her, as she patted it softly and pushed
away from her desk.
She hadn’t realised how late it was, the night had crept in
on her, and had covered everything in a dim lighting, and she looked out the
small window in her room and yawned. The moon shone brightly down on her, dusting
her in the bright soothing light. She decided it was probably wise to try and
head to sleep. She changed into her pyjamas and snuggled down in bed, wrapping
the covers over her. But as it always is when you want to sleep, she found herself
wide awake staring at her ceiling.
[Hi, I’d like to request what would Junkrat’s reaction would be if fem!reader stood up for him and protecting him and admitting her feelings for him in the process? Maybe even jealous? Trash child needs more love 👏]
[Jamison×Reader] [Fem!Reader] [Jealous Reader]
After a mission where your brave act got you a promotion you come back to declare your feelings for your Junker. But what you see gives you a spin of emotions you never could have expected.
You were on your way to the dining hall to meet up with your favorite Junker after a long mission. It was hard being away from him for that long because poor boy didn’t know how to operate a phone and you couldn’t communicate. As you were on your way you got a few congradulations on your performance on the mission. You had managed to pull the team through the mission after your leading officer got injured. Not only did you succeed but you cut the mission time in half and saved so many lives.
After docking at home you had been promoted higher than even your leading officer. With this new pride, confidence, and the new uniform adorned with your massive amounts of medals you earned, you had decided something. You were going to confess to Junkrat that you liked him.
You couldn’t put your finger on exactly how but you loved that Junker. To you he was handsome because you saw past the soot, crazy facade, and his past. You saw a boy who was passionate about things and had gone through absolute hell his whole life.
You admired his strength to be able to be carefree and face all hateful people with laughs. Most people would crumble and try to stay away from people but he had to survive. He wound layers and layers of walls and defenses around his beaten heart to continue going. He was stronger than most anyone and you loved him for it.
You had been friends with him for your whole time at overwatch. The Junkers had taken you in when you were just a recruit. So when you stood in the doorway of the dining hall seeing another girl in your place your chest burned with jealousy and anger. It got worse when you realized it was Mei. Everyone at the base knew they hated each other but would also be perfect for each other.
You didn’t even realize you were moving until you heard her say it. She said it often to Jamison and it always bothered you but today it was different. Filled with the pride of being promoted, the anger of her being in your spot, and the jealousy made you snap.
“You’re just a no-good bully-” Before Mei could say anything else you had pulled her from her seat and pushed her away. Now situated between Junkrat and her you glared.
“Oi! Y/N wot a surprise! Roadie an I didn’ know you’s was back-” Junkrat had moved to get up but you put a hand on his head and sat him back down.
“Hang on Jamie.” Your words dripped with anger as you glared at Mei. “How dare you be so mean to him?”
“Excuse me?” Mei automatically became defensive and frowned back at you.
“Darl…” Jamie said and reached out to you but you shrugged it off.
“You have gone through a lot and it has taken a toll on you Mei! So I am flabbergasted by the fact that you judge someone who obviously has been through much more shit than you! You should be praising him for how strong he is for making it through his shitty life! He is a survivor just like the rest of us and he does the best he can! Not to mention the fact that he is insanely smart and kind to people he feels are worthy of it! So maybe he is a bully to you because maybe he realizes you aren’t worth his time huh!?” At this point you were breathing heavily and everyone was staring at you. Feeling your cheeks get cold you realized you were crying and you gently touch your wet cheeks. Then looked around at the shocked faces and Mei’s hurt one. “I-I…”
You couldn’t get much more out before you were engulfed in a tight hug by none other than your Junker. “Darl…ya really think those things?” He asked as he looked down at you.
You blushed and looked down a little. “Honestly…I was on my way to tell you I had feelings for you…but when I saw her with you I lost it.”
At that point you blinked hearing and feeling Junkrat start to laugh hysterically. “Oh Darl! Snowball ‘as only over 'ere cause I wanted ta see if ya would get jealous!” Your blush darkened as he continued to laugh then you looked at Mei who was giggling too. “Darl nothin could eva make dis ol Junker love anythin’ else after yer display there.” And with that he kissed you. Even though you felt as if your face would melt with how hard you are blushing you kissed him back. And when you parted and he pressed your foreheads together you could never be more happy even with all the cheers echoing in the hall.