if it is too good to be true, it is

Movies of 2016

2016-03-12T06:49:39Z

Here be 2015 (?), 2014 (34), 2013 (22), 2012 (27), 2011 (111), 2010 (53), 2009 (58), 2008 (34) and 2007 (58)

Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015) January 01
The Imitation Game (2015) February 12
Zoolander 2 (2016) March 11 {Work Event @ Theatre]
Zootopia (2016) March 11 [Snuck in after ;D]
Miss Congeniality (2000) April 10
The Proposal (2009) April 11
Hope Floats (1998) April 12
Deadpool (2016)
The Martian (2015)
Minions (2015)
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016)
Zero Dark Thirty (2012)
Sleeping with Other People (2015) June 24
Finding Dory (2016) July 16 [In Theatre]

Movies of 2015

2016-03-12T06:48:41Z

Here be 2014 (34), 2013 (22), 2012 (27), 2011 (111), 2010 (53), 2009 (58), 2008 (34) and 2007 (58)

The Princess Bride (1987) Feb 25
Aladdin (199x) March 7
Office Space (199x) March 14
She's the Man (2006) March 24
The Princess Diaries (200x) March 24
The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement (200x) March 24
Practical Magic (1998) March 24
Inside Out (2015) June 23
Jurassic World (2015) June 25
Obvious Child (201x) August 03
Gone Girl (2015) August 11
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 1 (2015) September 27
Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) December 17 [WE DID IT]

Movies of 2014

2014-06-08T06:23:27Z

Here be 2013 (22), 2012 (27), 2011 (111), 2010 (53), 2009 (58), 2008 (34) and 2007 (58)

The Lego Movie (2014) *in theatre*
The Art of Seduction (2005)
The Heat (2013) June 7
Austenland (2013) June 7
Much Ado About Nothing (2013) August 22
Far and Away (1992) August
Night at the Museum (2006) August
Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) August
Anastasia (1997) September 6
Guardian of the Galaxy (2014) October 3 *in theatre*
Bourne Supremacy (200x) October 4
Bourne Ultimatum (200x) October 9
Hugo (2011) October 17
The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013) October 25
Pride & Prejudice (2005) October 29
The Object of My Affection (1998) October 30
Begin Again (2013) November 2
Celeste and Jesse Forever (2012) November 2
Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (2012) November 2
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatball 2 (2013) November 3
The Five-Year Engagement (2012) November 3
A.C.O.D (2013) November 4
Amelie (2001) November 4
Populaire (2012) November 4
Secretary (2002) November 4
Big Hero 6 (2014) November 8 *in theatre*
Schlussmacher (2013) November 5
Tamara Drewe (2010) November 13
The Decoy Bride (2011) November 13
Life as We Know It (2010) November 14
Ocean's Thirteen (2007) December 8
Mulan (1998) December 8
Tangled (2010) December 8
The Hobbit 3: The Battle of Five Armies (2014) December 19 *In Theatre 3D VIP*

Movies and Books of 2013

2013-03-29T00:59:41Z

I know I won't get 100 movies or 50 books but I still want to keep a list;.

Here be 2012 (27), 2011 (111), 2010 (53), 2009 (58), 2008 (34) and 2007 (58)

Pulp Fiction (1994) January 5
Silver Linings Playbook (2012) January 12
Prince & Me (2004) March 24
Clueless (1995) March 28
Anna Karenina (2012) March 28
Frankenweenie (2012) May 27 *Airplane*
The Admission (2013) May 27 *Airplane*
Man of Steel (2013) June 21 *In Theatre*
Descpicable Me (2010) June 30
Despicable Me 2 (2013) July 13 *In Theatre 3D*
The Switch (2010) July 21
Friends With Kids (2011) July 21
Waiting on Forever (2011) July 23
Men in Black October
My Girlfriend is an Agent (200x) November 2
Gravity (2013) October 19 *In Theatre 3D AVX*
Frozen (2013) November 30 *In Theatre 3D*
Sleepless in Seattle (1993)
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013) December 14 *In Theatre 3D VIP*
Mansfield Park (1999) December 15
What Maisie Knew (2012) December 19
Under the Greenwood Tree (2005) December 29

100 Movies & 50 Books in 2012

2012-01-15T02:24:44Z

Here be 2011 (111), 2010 (53), 2009 (58), 2008 (34) and 2007 (58)

Movies:

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011) January 14
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2012) January 18 [ADVANCED SCREENER @ THEATRE]
Mission Impossible 4: Ghost Protocol (2011) January 20 [THEATRE]
Imagine Me & You (2006) February 5
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2012) February 18 [THEATRE]
Mulan (1998) March 2
Hugo (2011) March 9
The Artist (2011) March 16
Hercules (1997) March 16
Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Sherlock Holmes 2: A Game of Shadows (2011)
Hunger Games (2012) April 25 [THEATRE]
The Avengers (2012) May 12 [THEATRE]
Amazing Spiderman (2012) July 7 [THEATRE]
Brave 3D (2012) July 10 [THEATRE]
The Dark Knight Rises (2012) July 22 [THEATRE]
The Cabin in the Woods (2011) September 28
The Campaign (2012) November 2
Wreck-It Ralph 3D (2012) November 6 [THEATRE]
Skyfall (2012) November 13 [THEATRE]
Ironman (2008) November 23
Mononoke-Hime (1997) December 16 [THEATRE]
Tonari no Totoro (1988) December 16 [THEATRE]
The Hobbit (2012) December 18 [THEATRE]
Pitch Perfect (2012) December 24
Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Rings (2001) December 27
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2003) December 31

8 (96) movies for 100; 4 (48) movies for 50.

Books:

Karl Pilkington - Happy slapped by a jellyfish: The words of Karl Pilkington January 11
Douglas Adams - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy January 15
Lauren Oliver - Delirium January 19
Stieg Larsson - The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo January 30
Stieg Larsson - The Girl who Played with Fire February 4
Stieg Larsson - The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest February 11

~~Evan Wright - Generation Kill~~

[FIC] (Generation Kill) Operation Hallbrook

2011-01-09T02:51:45Z

Title: Operation Hallbrook
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Colbert/Nate, Doc Bryan, Reporter
Word Count: 7,500
Summary: Brad loses his memory and wakes up in a foreign place. He finds trying to regain his past is harder than he thought as he searches for clues to what he is supposed to do there.
Notes: Written for 2010's yuletide, originally posted here. Thank you so much to witchling for the last-minute, late night beta. This is post-series AU, along with wiki’d details of weapons.

He wakes up to a dark room with only weak sunlight leaking from the blinds. He can feel wetness under his skin despite the fact that he’s only wearing a pair of shorts. He bolts up from his bed, winces because his muscles are sore. He gingerly pushes himself off the bed.

Every part of his body seems to ache as he treads across the small room. He stops in front of a small mirror situated above the drawers and examines himself. There is nothing out of the ordinary at the front – no bullet holes there, or at the back as he cranes his neck to make sure he hasn’t been randomly beaten, only to have all the bruises on his back.

After declaring himself fit to go with a clean bill of health, at least exterior-wise, he looks around at his surrounding and finds a black sports bag on the only chair in the room. He has no recognition of it, and has no reason to assume it isn’t his. He unzips it and finds a clean outfit inside. He takes it out and puts it on, finding that it fits him perfectly. He looks into the bag again and finds a stack of Euros. His hand brushes through it; he estimates there to be at least ten-grand there. He leaves the money alone with a frown and a deep uneasiness and walks around the room, examining it.

Where did he get such a large sum of money? Why are they Euros and not American dollars?

His hands and fingers work at and around every nook and cranny and pulling out every drawer in his room. Underneath the poorly constructed bed frame, he finds a .45 tucked neatly in the corner. He checks the ammo – still fully loaded and not a single bullet missing.

The realization shocks him. He tosses the gun onto the bed as if his hands were burnt. How would a normal person be so familiar with a gun? He stares at the gun lying on the bed. His mind finally catches up to his surrounding and his situation. It was easy for him to just assume that the bag was his – the outfit he is wearing, the gun, and all that money. He was perfectly fine with it until the alarm bells went off and now he is trying to remember something – anything – that may give him a clue to who he is.

Because he has no memory of anything. His mind is drawing a blank to everything. He knows that he should panic; that’s what everyone normally does, right? But he isn’t. He checks his pulse and his breathing. They are steady at where they should be. Normal.

Just how would he know what a normal pulse and breath rate would be?

He rushes back to the bag and digs through its pockets looking for any clue that may tell him who he is, where he is, or what he is doing here. All he finds is a key. One key. Not even a set of keys. He examines the key, weighs it in his palm, and tosses it in the air before catching it easily. No flashback or memory to what the key is for at all.

Just who was he? A man with no memory with a stack of cash, a loaded gun, and a key.

Great.

*

He takes all his belonging – which is only his bag – with him. As he walks down a busy street, his mind gathers whatever jumbled memory he has left. He must have concentrated too hard as he bumps into a woman with a bag of grocery in each hand.

“Stupid man. Who doesn’t watch where he’s going?”

He bends down to help her with the scattering orange on the ground. “Sorry, sorry. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He speaks fluent Czech. That’s good news, right?

He nicks the newspaper from some café’s table. He takes at look at the title – Prague. What was he doing in Prague? And according to the newspaper, it’s March of 2010. He quickly puts the paper into his bag; it may come handy in the future.

His stomach reluctantly grumbles, so he decides it’s time for food. He picks a table that has the door at his twelve and easily settles on the soup and sandwich combo. As he waits for his food, he summarizes all his findings:

The voice in his head speaks to him in English – American English to be precise. It makes sense since he wondered why he has a stack of Euros instead of American dollars, assuming it to be the currency of choice. But he also speaks fluent Czech. What other language does he know? Who brought him back to that room? Did he make it back himself? If he is an American citizen, what is he doing here?

He takes his time enjoying the food, taking in the surrounding. The only way to go is to figure out the importance of the key. Going to the authorities doesn’t seem right. He may be a wanted man. Gun and cash?

He thinks back to the key, not bold enough to take it out and inspect it. He is sure it is no ordinary key, but that’s all he knows for now.

As he finishes the last of his sandwich, he folds up the paper and drops a ten on the table. He figures he should head to the library; they have computers and internet access there. That should be a good starting place for any investigations. He gets the directions from the waitress and leaves the small café.

He finds a computer with the door in his sightline and sits down. His hands are on the keyboard, itching to type something in the internet browser’s address bar but even he can’t will his fingers to type in the familiar addresses. Not even an inkling to check his inbox.

He sighs loudly and slums into his chair. This is no use. He has no plan, no direction, no anything to guide his next move. He’s the Iceman, for fuck’s sake.

Wait, what?

Iceman. He mouths the word. It feels familiar on his tongue. Searching for Iceman gives him results of a superhero. He’s no superhero.

With a feeling of resignation, he pulls out his last hope, the key, from his bag. Now that he’s looking at it for a second time and in better light, he finds a small inscription at the top of the key, so small that he definitely missed it the first time. His thumb gently brushes the words at the top and it suddenly hits him like a freight train and he knows where he needs to go.

*

He gets the direction to the bank from the librarian up at the front and thanks her with a dashing smile. He thinks about taking the bus, but he doesn’t think shoving a ten at the bus driver and asking for change would be a good idea. And it is only a handful of blocks away. It is a good idea to survey the area while he is here.

He turns the corner and spots two cops in the middle of the street staring at him and muttering to each other frantically. If he was anyone else, he would assume he was letting his imagination run wild. But he knows that he isn’t, so he does his best to turn back without bringing attention to himself.

Just what he needs, two cops chasing him down in the middle of the streets. At least the crowd isn’t parting like they should, it gives him enough time to weave his way around and get out on the other side. Taking a few steps at a time, he makes his way up the escalator. He can hear the cops yelling at him to stop. He dashes to the other side of the shopping mall, takes the escalator down, and exits out the doors.

He looks up and his eyes catch several surveillance cameras at the corner of several buildings. He walks into another mall and exits through the other side. He doesn’t even know why the cops are chasing him, but with the way things are shaping up, he needs to get out of the country as soon as possible. They never get on anyone’s case without a serious reason. The idea of going up to the cops and asking them who he is just flushed down the toilet. They seem to know more about him than he knows about himself.

Isn’t there someone back home that misses him? His family? The fact that he doesn’t know how long he’s been here worries him. It could be three days, three weeks or even three months since he’s been here. He doesn’t dare to think he’s been here for three years.

After the long detour, he finds his way to the bank without anymore run-ins with the cops.

*

They leave him alone with his security deposit box and he closes the curtain behind him before opening the box. The first thing inside, the one at the top, is a beige manila folder. He opens it up and almost lets its content fall all over the tiled floor.

He scans the files, eyeing them with suspicion. If he doesn’t remember who he is and what he is doing here, how can he expect these files to tell him anything? He moves onto the page-sized photos. He has no recognition of the man in the pictures. Somehow he doesn’t wish he did at all. Not from the way these pictures are taken – the angles and the candidness of them – they must have been taken by a private investigator of sort. Whatever is going on with this folder, it doesn’t settle well with him. He stuffs them awkwardly back into the folder and places it on the table before moving on.

He rummages through the rest of the security box. There’s nothing out of the ordinary with it, since it contains nothing but clothes and a pair of runners - except there is a hidden pocket lined underneath the hard plastic at the bottom of the box. He slips his hand to pop out the plastic and pulls out a small black bag that’s the size of his palm. He easily pulls the thin stack out. The first thing he sees is an American passport – finally, there’s something useful in all this.

Brad Colbert. This must be his name considering it is his photo right next to his info. He flips through the other pages, but where there should be stamps to acknowledge his arrival into this country, or any country for the matter, there were none.

Just as he thinks he is Brad Colbert, an American citizen, there’s another passport right underneath. This time a British one, but with another name. And another one after that – a French one with another name – more French. But they all have the same passport photo next to entirely different names, birthdates, etc.

There is something really wrong at work here.

He adopts the name Brad, the one that sounds the most right when really, he has one in three chances of being correct. And there’s the fact that all three of these passports could be aliases of his real identity. But Brad it is.

After going through the small stack of passports, he finds a slim cellphone and turns it on.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Brad finds three texts waiting for him. All three are recently sent to the phone.

Target acquired. Target information enclosed.

Target on the move. 7 days.

Contact this number if you need assistance.

The last text is finally the most useful one and sent only yesterday too.

Brad takes out the plastic bag from the trash can and uses that to carry his things. Who would throw out trash here when everything in your box is confidential and important? Idiots, that’s who. He keeps the key, just in case he has more instructions in the future from the mysterious person who put these things here and tosses everything into the black sports bag he’s been carrying around. Not suspicious at all.

He didn’t plan on returning to the tiny one-room thing that he woke up in. But since he has nowhere to stay and it’s getting dark, he might as well crash there for the night.

He doesn’t get very far when he stops at his floor, there are men in uniform and police tapes surrounding the area that was his temporary room.

Shit. He backs away quickly and dashes down the few flights of stairs and out the door in record time. This explains why the two cops were staring at him with interest. He made the right choice to run off when he still had the chance. It doesn’t explain what happened in his room though.

Fuck. He manages to find himself in a park and picks a bench that has the view with all most of the park in front of him and an escape route right behind him. And one underneath a street lamp so he can figure out his next move.

He takes a sip of coffee out of the cardboard cup that he purchased as he walked further and further away from the apartment building. This will last him for awhile before he has to find shelter for the rest of the night.

Brad pulls out the files – the one from the security box and looks through them again. Maybe now that he isn’t in a hurry, he will extract new information from them that he missed. He never really gave them a good look the first time around either way.

The first few sheets of paper have the basic information. Nathaniel Fick. Citizen of the USA. Served in the Iraq War. A schedule of his visits in Europe, with the dates of his Czech visits highlighted and circled.

The few photos that they have of him haven’t changed since he last looked at them. The man has brown hair, tightly cropped that mirrored his own. Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be anything special about the man. Yes, Brad read the long list of accomplishments by this man. But it doesn’t warrant his interest long enough when he is trying to find information about himself.

After he drains the last of the coffee and puts away the files again, Brad decides he’ll call the number from the texts tomorrow. He needs a good night sleep to prepare for what’s to come.

*

Brad wakes abruptly from something poking at his ribs. He tries to cling onto the image of a man in his dream, so sure that it wasn’t a fickle of his imagination. But when he opens his eyes to see what the commotion is, the image fades away without imprinting itself into Brad’s memory.

“What is it?” Brad asks, blinking away his sleep.

“You can’t sleep here.” The person pokes him again, harder this time. Brad recognizes it right away, along with the men doing the poking. Fucking cops. Don’t they have anything better to do?

“Okay, okay, I’ll move,” Brad mumbles, slowly getting out of the park bench and gripping tightly onto his sports bag. There is a reason why he picked this park bench out of all of them. It failed him once because he closed his eyes, but there was the latter reason. He could make a quick getaway if he wanted to.

“Hey, hey!” One of the cops calls after him. “That’s him!”

His legs pick up speed as he rounds corners and crossing streets without oncoming cars to stop him. He scouted his place earlier before arriving at the park. He knew his way around enough and remembered there was this dump of a place the people here called a pub that he could hide until the cops think he’s ran off.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Scotch, thanks.” Brad picks one of the booths rather than sit at the bar. He can feel the adrenaline pumping, coursing through his veins, yet he doesn’t feel the weariness or the ache in his muscles, or even the pull of his lungs since he doesn’t need to catch his breath despite running at top speed for more than several blocks.

Really, the last thing he needs is the cops after him. He wasn’t certain before, but this just confirms it. If it’s anything serious, every department of this government would have his pictures and files which will ban him from leaving. The faster he figures out the files, the faster he can get out of the country.

Now that he has a second to absorb what just happened in the last fifteen minutes, he starts back at the beginning. The dream – the man’s face, something seems so familiar with it. He knows he’s seen it before, but can’t place it. He’s usually so good with faces too.

“Your scotch, sir.”

Brad thanks the man for the drink and pays him right away. He picks up the glass and swirls in around. The more he swirls the drink, the more he remembers, albeit very faintly, from the dream. There is a name attached to that face that’s at the tip of his tongue.

It had felt more like a memory than a dream. He remembered the sand underneath him. Not just underneath him, but fucking everywhere around him. He could feel it in his pores. That’s how much he remembered and despised the sand.

And make-shift toilets.

Brad gulps down the scotch all in one go, hating himself for feeling incompetent. He cannot remember his own name but remembers how much he despised sand and digging a hole in the ground to shit in.

Luckily he finds a 24-hour fast food joint for him to stick around in until the sun comes up. He should have called yesterday when he first found out about the number. Fuck this, he takes the phone out of his pocket and types in the number from the text.

He doesn’t even get a hello when the voice on the other end starts to speak. “About time you called. I thought you backed out. Did you get the assignment?”

“Of course,” Brad replies with caution. So it is what he thought it was. But he never signed up to kill anyone. At least he doesn’t think he did, not that he would remember if he did. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Everything you’ll need is at the train station. Locker 3B. You have three days left. But you know that already from his profile.”

Brad knows the question he is about to ask is highly unnecessary, but the mystery man is going to hang up and he needs to drag this out longer while not sounding suspicious at all. “Do I need to call you afterwards?”

The man chuckles. “Colbert, we’ll know it if you’ve done your job. At the same time, we’ll know it if you’ve failed. But we know that’s not going to happen, is it?”

*

While he dreams of sand and the sun, this time it is different. He can feel the sand around him everywhere, but there is water in front of him – not a desert. Next to him, a surfboard and a plastic cup of iced coffee half-buried itself into the sand.

“Hey,” the man says, with a smile even brighter than the sun. “You better finish that drink. I’m not having you spilling it all over the rental.”

“I told you I should have ridden the bike over.” Brad hears himself speak. He doesn’t remember this though.

“It wasn’t going to fit your board and me at the same time. We’ve already went over this,” the man says with a slight frown, but not meaning it at all as his face brightens up again.

Brad picks up the plastic cup and drinks it from the brim. He wasn’t going to drink it out of the straw like some girl. The man, now standing up and casually brushing sand off his shorts and legs, laughs at him while shaking his head.

“C’mon,” the man extends his hand out. Brad gladly takes it without a second thought and lets the man pull him up with ease. He takes the board with him and the two of them walk towards the white Prius.

“Don’t start about the car. I didn’t know we were going to need room to put your board in there too,” the man replies when Brad’s eyebrow goes up in half-hearted disdain. Brad knows that the car is exactly what the man drives back in DC, but he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he has another use for it and pulls the man in for a kiss. There’s no one around – he’s checked and that’s why he chosen this beach in the first place – so they keep at it a little longer. He can taste the salt water on Nate’s lips and smell the sunscreen on him. He can’t get enough of this. They need to go back to his apartment as soon as possible. He wonders if Nate will let him drive; he knows that he can get them back in record speed. They break apart when Brad feels his grip on his board loosening. He catches it just in time before it smashes itself against the concrete.

Brad smiles sheepishly when the other man rolls his eyes. “So it’s the board over me?”

“You’re both very important in my books. Along with my bike. Oh, and that coffee brewer I got for Christmas. All very important.”

*

Brad doesn’t remember falling asleep, but here he is, head resting on the sports bag, still sitting on the hard plastics they call furniture of fast-food booths with an empty cup of coffee on the table next to his head.

He finds it odd that he keeps dreaming about the past. He thought dreams were supposed to be his subconscious and his imagination tossed together and bam, have a dream.

And yet, he is so sure that this really happened. He doesn’t think his mind is clever enough to make up these fantasies, considering they all feature the same person.

He pulls out the beige folder again, and this time going for the photos instead. He must be going crazy. As he examines the photos again, the man in the picture no longer has short cropped hair. Instead they were longer, months past in between to grow out of its shortness. And yet Brad had thought, no, remembered it to be shorter when he first looked at the photos.

“Would you like a refill of that?”

Brad closes the folder and looks up, hiding very well that he was startled when he knows he shouldn’t have been. “Yes, thank you.”

“I wish I had better news, but it’s soon to be rush hour and you can’t stay here much longer. My manager doesn’t like people loitering here around that time.”

Brad shakes his head and offers the girl a smile, thanks, I’ll just get something else to eat. He heads up to the counter and orders a breakfast and another coffee. That will last him for awhile as he plans his next move.

As Brad sits the tray down on his booth again, it finally clicks for him. Despite his amnesia, he thought he was better than this. He whips out the folder again, splaying the files on the table.

There he is, Nathaniel Fick. The man in his dreams. It is obvious enough. Even with a different hairstyle, he still has the same smile and same eyes. It doesn’t help the fact that Brad remembers the way Nate’s lips tasted.

And he is supposed to kill this man.

*

Brad reads over the schedule again. Today, Nate is going to be meeting with the US ambassador at the US consulate.

He finds the famed Locker 3B, but he has no idea how they expect him to know how to open it when he doesn’t have a key for it. He keeps only the phone and his American passport on him before shoving his bag into another locker a few rows down.

As he walks towards the consulate, he decides to take the ‘scout then approach’ tactic, considering what he is about to do. Not to mention the amount of security they’ll have around Nate.

After scouting around the place for an hour, he can’t find an opening in other than the front door. Even after showing his passport at the front and heading inside, there are security personnel in front of every door. The entire mission feels off. He is going into a territory where he has no idea where everything is. Not that the library would have the floor plans to a consulate.

Brad smiles awkwardly at one of the guards while pretending to wait in line that hasn’t moved for the past half an hour.

Looks like today is a bust.

*

After another unsuccessful day of doing recon for Nate, Brad is ready to give up. He had another dream last night – one that would have made a girl blush, but he wasn’t a goddamn girl.

The phone buzzes annoyingly in his pocket. He pulls it out reluctantly, knowing what the call will be like before he even picks up the call.

“Colbert. Did you or did you not get the information about your hit? Considering he’s leaving tomorrow, you get your goddamn ass to where he is by then. I don’t know what is going on at your end, but you better finish your job or we’ll finish you.”

“Yes, sir,” Brad replies sternly, his back straightening without a second thought to what he’s doing.

He thinks it’s imagination, but after everything that’s happened, he opts to trust his instinct instead when it is telling him that there are two men wearing all black staring at him through the window from across the street. Shit, now he has more people on his tail.

“Good. Do what you’re trained to do, Colbert.”

The line cuts dead and Brad stuffs the phone back into his pocket. He picks up his bag and decides to head to the train station where he’s supposed to open Locker 3B there. It’s interesting how he has to go to the locker to get more information when he already has a gun and way too much money in the bag. And he doesn’t even know where they come from. The gun, okay, he can say that it is for protection since he apparently knows how to handle them well. But the money? If he is here to kill someone, why in the world would he have thousands of Euros? Even if it’s a deposit on the hit, there is no way someone is stupid enough to carry it with him. It would more sense to have it deposited into his bank account – which turns out to only be a safety deposit box – or even in cash, in a bag, stuffed in the mysterious Locker 3B. Not the other way around.

*

Out of all three days, today’s location for the assassination is easily the least complicated considering it is outdoors. They should have just told him to be here on this day and he could have finished the job without batting his eyelash.

Brad finds a random building – really, any of these tall buildings would have worked – and gets to work.

After another visit to the train station to open Locker 3B, it apparently worked with the same key as the safety deposit box, Brad gains another weapon in his unnecessary arsenal, this time a long-range sniper rifle for his mark. Whoever employs him for this at least provided him something better than a forty-five to kill someone from a distance.

It is as if he never lost his memory, Brad’s muscle memory sets up the rifle like he's done it all his life. He spots Nate easily despite there being a sea of people down below. Even as he watches, his mind races around for other options other than it ending with a death. If this Nathaniel is the same Nate in his dreams, he holds the key to Brad's past.

He’s tried the ‘recon and approach’ tactic. Not only did that fail miserably, he also has his employer up on his ass. He scans the scene in front of him and easily singles out the guards donning similar outfits to the men from yesterday.

Brad’s mind briefly wonders if these men are to protect Nathaniel, or to make sure he’s dead. He puts on the headphones and lets the words from the speech that’s happening on the podium wash over him.

He moves on to wondering if this is a test – this assignment – a trial put on to test his loyalty to his employer, whoever that may be. And Brad would have applauded the creator of this test if the person carrying out the task hadn’t lost his memory and along with losing the reason to carry on with the goddamn assassination.

Brad calls the hit off himself. This is pathetic. He doesn’t even know who his employer is. Why should he be doing their dirty deeds if there is no reason left for him to do so? He puts his hand on the rifle, ready to take it apart when suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder. His reflex kicks in – his hand grabs a tight hold onto the perpetrator’s wrist but he fails to get the hand off on his shoulder.

“Brad, Brad – stop!”

The man’s grip is too strong. Brad turns around ready to jam the heel of his other hand into the man’s face but misses when the man dodges easily, catching Brad’s hand and twisting it behind his back.

“Shit, Brad, you still struggling?” The stranger asks, as the two of them gets tangled up on the ground, half trying to get free, half struggling to keep the other man bound.

“Brad, it’s me. What the fuck?”

Brad turns and looks at the man who has him pinned to the ground. He doesn’t recognize him - that one is obvious, but the way the man spoke to him with such familiarity and ease, he should know him from somewhere but nothing’s coming as usual.

“Now would be a good time to tell me everything. Haven’t seen you in months and the first thing you do is attack me.” Should he trust this stranger? What if he’s one of the cops who is after him? Brad has no time to waste as the man stares at him strangely.

Brad begins telling the stranger about everything that’s since happened after he woke up without his memory in the room. After that, he learns that this man served with him in Iraq – which explains the endless dreams about sand and holes in the ground of various sorts, or the fact that he is in top physical form. And the man’s name is Tim Bryan, but Brad would have known him as Doc, or well, Tim now that he’s out of the corp.

“How did you find me?” Brad asks, now that things have calmed down.

“You remember Reporter?” Tim starts, then shakes his head. “Right, you have the amnesia thing going on. Long story short, he was with us as an embedded reporter during the invasion of Iraq. He got wind of this story – apparently it’s been going on for months – assassinations of US citizens, officials, everyone really, always oversea and made to look like accidents or someone else’s fault. Reporter has his sources. Anyway, this time he managed to find out the next target before it’s too late – it’s Nate. He called you, since you didn’t answer, he called Gunny, but Gunny’s off doing something – Reporter wasn’t specific about it, so he found me to scout things out. At least he found me before he got to Ray. To be honest, I thought you were here to protect him, not kill him.”

Brad can only shake his head. The story makes sense to him, yet at the same time, it all feels foreign to him. This is getting fucking tiresome. At least it gives him a reason to not aim the gun at Nate anymore.

“I need to get my memory back,” Brad says with utmost seriousness, as if his life depends on it. And it does.

Tim nods understandingly. “I’ll get in contact with Reporter as soon as I can. For now, get out of the country and lay low for awhile. He might have some news on you too if he knows about the attempt on Nate. I’m just fucking glad I got here in time.”

Brad carefully packs the light fifty back into its case while Tim watches nearby. He doesn’t tell Tim that he wasn’t going to go through with it by the time Tim arrived. But that wouldn’t have made a difference either way, so he keeps it to himself. Just like the question of how Tim found him up in this building will never be asked. He doesn’t mind knowing, but he just won’t ask it.

*

It only took thirty seconds to a minute, if Brad was counting as he walked into his house for the first time in ages with his guards down, for someone to kick down the door, put a bag over Brad’s head, and inject something in his blood stream.

By the time he is conscious again, Brad is sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the room. His hands and legs are free and he’s already come up with ten different ways to break out of this room – something in him tells him that he’s been trained to do so – but he knows after that he’d be at a lost at what to do when he doesn’t know the layout to this place at all.

“Colbert, it is nice to see you again.”

Brad’s head snaps up. Only now does he realize that he is not alone. Whatever they injected in him played a hell of a trick on his senses if he overlooked an actual person standing in front of him who is only a few feet away from him.

“It looks like they were right. The drugs did work,” the man says, staring intently at Brad.

Brad returns the glare with the same intensity. There is something about the man’s voice that wakens something in him. His brain works overtime trying to place the gravelly voice. He has no idea what the man is talking about. Of course the drugs worked. He is here after all, isn’t he?

The man, again with the cropped haircut, shakes his head and chuckles. “But not entirely. You didn’t carry out your mission like they said you were supposed to. Godfather does not take failure easily. They are already working on a new prototype for the drug as we speak. They told Godfather it was foolproof, but you are the living proof that it did not turn out the way Godfather envisioned it to.”

For one second there, Brad thought he was following along but now he is lost in this man’s lingo.

“You have no questions for Godfather?”

Brad contemplates on asking the questions are the tip of his tongue. But he wonders how much this man – Godfather – is willing to divulge. He has a feeling that the man is going to tell him what is going on without him saying another word. “Why am I here?”

“Godfather isn’t going to let a malfunctioning weapon like that wander around without guidance. Godfather is here to get you to unfuck yourself.”

“How come I don’t remember anything at all?”

“An obvious question, but Godfather will answer it nonetheless. Those scientists have been tasked to help usher in a new era of warfare. Godfather does not select the hits. Godfather only oversees the program’s logistics. It seems like you are our first malfunction. I can see why after they sent Godfather your files. Did you know that it was Godfather’s suggestion that they bring you into this program? You were being wasted out there by those incompetent fools when you could serve your country better with us.”

Brad remembers, just a flash, when he signed up for Hallbrook, thinking that he was serving and protecting his country as part of his military career. It was nothing but a thin disguise for something darker and more sinister.

“Fick is a good man. But it is not Godfather’s choice in who Hallbrook chooses.”

Brad flinches at the mention of Nate. During the flight back from Prague, he passed out the moment the plane took flight. He dreamt of nothing but Nate in various times – in Iraq, in Oceanside, in his house, on his bed, in DC, in Baltimore with his nieces. He watched all of it like a bystander, remembering none of it, yet knowing how the Brad in his dreams felt when he saw the despair and frustration in Nate’s eyes in Baghdad, the soft smile on Nate’s face as he pours another cup of coffee in Brad’s kitchen, and so on.

This must be what Godfather is talking about when he said the experimental drugs failed. Brad has his memory wiped, but not clean enough as it seeps through to his subconscious. He shouldn’t remember Nathaniel, or know who he is at all.

“Godfather can see that you are starting to understand what is happening. You have nothing to worry about. You won’t remember this conversation either way.”

When they toss the bag over him again, he doesn’t struggle. The Marines hammered in the lessons in him well. If he was anyone else, he would have been struggling, punching and kicking his assailants to break free. But now is not the time to do when the drug they dosed him with is still in his system, making his dazed and weak.

They leave him in a windowless room equipped with a single bed, a desk, and a chair, and even a separate room for the bathroom. Picture of luxury right there. But he can’t complain when he remembers watching himself digging a hole in the middle of a desert use to take a dump. A flushable toilet is high-end luxury.

*

OPERATION HALLBROOK SHUTS DOWN AFTER DOCUMENT LEAKS OF ILLEGAL TREATMENTS OF SOLDIERS
Samantha Judge, Associated Press

Two days after an anonymous source leaked documents and stories of the treatments and abuse of soldiers in an undercover military experiment, Operation Hallbrook has been shut down until further notice. The Secretary of Defense, Ben Folger, vows to give the public a proper answer to this horrendous and tragic exploitation of American soldiers, and is also said to lead the investigation into the matters.

“What has transpired today will not be condoned by the Department of Defense or the American public. We have begun our investigations into Operation Hallbrook and all personnel involved with this will be questioned until we reached an understanding of this tragedy. We are disappointed that we have failed to protect our soldiers when they put their trust in us. I want to make a apology to the soldiers and their families who are involved with this, and to the American public who has continued to support the Armed Forces.”

After the initial story of a soldier who was placed into a foreign country without his memory and ordered to assassinate a US official came to surface, similar stories of emerge to back the claim.

…

Sources say that the drug were to only lasts between twelve to eighteen months before it flushed out of the system, as per the length of the contract the soldiers signed for Operation Hallbrook.

All soldiers who participated into the program are released from their contracts and will be given a time of leave as they recover from the experimental drug.

*

Brad closes his laptop to stop himself from reading anymore of these articles. After a whirlwind of physicals, interviews from officials, and paperwork, he is finally released and sent home until they need him again. He still doesn’t remember the house, but he remembers enough of the bike parked in his garage to take it out every day and just lose himself on the open road.

He leaves his phone back at the house after his story broke. After talking to several of his Marine buddies and his family – he remembers none of them despite his effort to regain those memories, he has had enough and needed to get away. He is tired of the sympathy and the eagerness of them wanting him to remember. But if what they are printing in the papers were right, it is going to take another few months before the drugs begin to wear off.

Brad turns back when the sky starts to dim. While he knows that his skill with the bike hasn’t gone away just because his memory has gone missing, he decides to be safe than get into an accident and have it splashed across all the newspapers and news outlets. HALLBROOK SOLDIER CRASHES BIKE – ACCIDENT OR SUICIDE?

As Brad slows his bike to a stop on his driveway, he eyes the car parked in front of his house warily. He doesn’t expect any visitors, especially when he vehemently protested after his sisters and his parents offered (more like threatened) to stay with him until who knows when. While he appreciates the offer, he cannot bear to see the disappointment and frustration in their eyes when they realize that Brad really doesn’t remember them at all.

He takes his time parking his bike in the garage and wiping down the exterior (that he remembers to do for some reason). When he walks into his living room, he can’t tell if he is surprised or breaths a sigh of relief when he sees Nate sitting on a couch and flipping through some boring magazines he picked up at the store when he went to get a case of beer after he polished off the ones he had in his house after the first few nights.

“So I hear you tried to kill me,” Nate says, placing the magazine back on the coffee table. Of course Nate would use a fucking coaster for his beer. Brad got them as a present when he first moved into this place. It’s been sitting there as decoration for years but he’s never had the heart to toss them out or even put them away.

“It didn’t work out that well from my end.”

Nate smiles tentatively. “I hope not.”

Brad continues to stand there, not bridging the gap between them. There is a part of him that wants to walk over there, put his hands on both sides of Nate’s face, and kiss him hard, expecting it to end (or begin) in his bedroom.

But that part of him is still small, small enough to only be detected by a magnify glass if one were to look.

So he stands there, unsure how to approach Nate. To him, Nate is his past; a memory inside of him, only coming out when Brad dreams. So really, the man sitting on his couch is nothing but a stranger, just like all those who have called and tried to visit him.

Yet. Yet, he doesn’t want Nate to leave. He doesn’t want to push Nate away until he gets his memories back and remembers what Nate really means to him.

Brad can be fearless when he is supposed to kill a man he doesn’t know. He can cope being locked up in a cell not knowing when they are going inject him with something newer and better and toss him out there to do their dirty work.

He knows how this goes. If Ray was here, he’d be clapping Brad’s back and ramble on and on at how cliché this is. What if Nate falls in love with this Brad, the one who doesn’t know a thing about Nate, like they’re starting fresh. What if a few months from now, Brad will get his memories back and then Nate finds that he prefers the other Brad. Or some bullshit plot that they always use in those Hollywood rom-coms. Without the happily ever after ending.

Brad watches Nate get up from the couch and walks towards him. He’s never cowered to guns pointed to his temple or bombs tossed his way. But he wants to take a step back and avoid Nate’s hand slowly descending onto his arm.

The touch is reassuring, hey, we’ll take this slowly okay. Nate looks into Brad’s eyes. Brad hopes that Nate will find no fear in him. And Brad nods, ever so slowly. It is only a few months. They can wait it out until then.

100 Movies in 2011

2011-01-04T06:10:39Z

Nodame Cantabile: The Movie II (2010) January 2 ★★★★
Tangled (2010) January 15 ★★★1/2
Heartbreaker (2010)
The King's Speech (2010)
She's the Man (2004) April 9
Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (20) April 9
South Park Movie (199?) April 23
Glorious 39 (201?) May 15
The Other Guys (2010) May 30
Anchorman May 30
40 Year Old Virgin May 30
From Beijing with Love (1994) June 7
The Naked Gun (1988) June 8
Paul (2011) June 9
The Jerk (1979) June 11
Mulan (2004) June 11
Hanna (2011) June 11
Ocean's Eleven (2001) June 17
Life as We Know It (2010) June 20
Wall-E (2008) June 20 ★★★★
The Chronicles of Narnia The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (2010) June 21 ★★.75
District 9 (2009) June 21
The Adjustment Bureau (2011) June 21
I Capture the Castle (2003) June 24
Sucker Punch (2011) June 25 DO NOT WATCH THIS. I GIVE THIS 1/2 FOR GOOD SOUNDTRACK.
Take Me Home Tonight (2011) June 25
The Incredibles (2004) June 26
Mystery Team (2009) June 26
Revenge of the Nerds (1984) June 26
Swinging with the Finkels (2010) June 27 YEAH IT WAS BAD
Conan O'Brien Can't Stop (2011) June 27
Source Code (2011) June 28
The Fall (2006) June 29 (IDGI)
Ponyo (2008) June 29 (KAWAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII)
The Borrower Arrietty (2010) June 29 (PRETTY)
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984) June 30
Castle in the Sky (1986) July 2
Grave of the Fireflies (1988) July 2
Fanboys (2008) July 2
My Neighbour Totoro (1988) July 2
Kiki's Delivery Service (1989) July 3
Porco Rosso (1992) July 3
Megamind (2010) July 4
Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977) July 5
Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (1980) July 6
Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983) July 6
Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) July 7
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) July 8
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) July 9
Princess Mononoke (199x) July 10
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of Crystal Skull (2008) July 12
My Neighbors the Yamadas (1999) July 13
Cedar Rapid (2011) July 13
Howl's Moving Castle (200x) July 13
Spirited Away (2001) July 14
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (2011) July 17 [THEATRE]
Kung Fu Panda (2008) July 17 (ugh)
The Cat Returns (2002) July 19
Whisper Of The Heart (1995) July 19
The Road to El Dorado (2000) July 20
The Producers (1986) July 21
Back to the Future (1985) July 21
Back to the Future Part II (1989) July 22
Back to the Future Part III (1990) July 22
Airplane! (1980) July 23
Annie Hall (1977) July 23 (no)
Monty Python's The Meaning of Life (1983) July 24
Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979) July 26
Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) July 26
The Terminator (1984) July 27
Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) July 28
Super Troopers (2001) July 29
Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (2003) July 31
Terminator Salvation (2009) August 1
Office Space (1999) August 2
Scott Pilgrim vs the World (2010) August 4
Hercules (1997) August 5
Spaceballs (1987) August 6
Super 8 (2011) August 8
McDull, Kung Fu Kindergarten (2009) August 12
McDull, Prince de la Bun (2004) August 13
Clerks (1994) August 13
Winnie the Pooh (2011) August 14
Edward Scissorhands (1990) August 14
Kick-Ass (2010) August 16
Jaws (1975) August 16
Robocop (1987) August 17
Jeux d'enfants (2003) August 24
Futurama: Bender's Big Score (2007) August 24
Futurama: The Beast with a Billion Backs (2008) August 25
Futurama: Bender's Game (2008) August 25
Futurama: Into the Wild Green Yonder (2009) August 25
Thor (2011) September 2
Blades of Glory (2007) September 3
Blazing Saddles (1974) September 4
Hercules (1997)
Bridesmaid (2011) October 22
Horrible Bosses (2011) October 23
Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) October 23
Crazy Stupid Love (2011) October 29
Arthur (2011) November 5
Drive (2011) December 3
Elf (2003) December 23
The Princess Bride (1987) December 24
The Ides of March (2011) December 25
A Princess for Christmas (2011) December 25 (Don't... bother with this one)
TRON: Legacy (2010) December 25
Contagion (2011) December 26
The Big Lebowski (1998) December 26
True Grit (2010) December 27
Moneyball (2011) December 27

8 (96) movies for 100; 4 (48) movies for 50.

Here be 2010 (53), 2009 (58), 2008 (34) and 2007 (58) ★☆

[FIC] (Merlin) Knitting for Beginners

2010-12-30T11:52:10Z

Title: Knitting for Beginners
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: AU, Arthur/Merlin
Word Count: ~1,500
Summary: Arthur tries to knit a scarf for Merlin.
Notes: For prompt #105 at insmallpackages. Hope you enjoy it!

Arthur doesn’t think that this is stupid. He knows that this is stupid. Yet, under his mumblings of how this is stupid, he continues on, hissing whenever the knitting needle pokes into one of his sensitive fingers, no thanks to his blundering around the needles.

It all started when Merlin suggested that this year they should change up the way the gift exchange process was done. Merlin even said: “C’mon Arthur, it’d be fun!” Arthur can still hear Merlin uttering those words, even if they were said months ago.

Thanks to Merlin’s grand idea for this Christmas, Arthur and Merlin had to find a gift for each other under ten quid. TEN! Arthur spent more than that for his usual lunches.

Despite being with Merlin for over two years, Arthur still didn’t understand his boyfriend’s way of thriftiness. Yes, he got that he was born into money, so he wouldn’t understand the “everyday struggle of everyone else” as Morgana had put it so eloquently. But Merlin was getting paid more than the usual bloke (way more than), so where did he get off talking about thrifty.

Arthur grinned and bared it, nodding at Merlin’s suggestion, which resulted in Merlin being very happy in bed, and thus, Arthur was happy too.

That happiness only lasted for the night. When morning came, Arthur is reminded before he left for work that he had to “stick to the rules”.

After browsing endlessly at various department stores and tiny semi-this-place-looks-horrid stores, Arthur exhausted his options and really was just tired of the Christmas music and the fake cheerfulness of the clerks after mentioning his budget. (He was sure the fakeness would disappear immediately if he added a few zeros at the end of that one.)

A few days after almost giving up and wanting to load up the money into a gift card and calling it a day, Arthur came across an arts and crafts shop when he walked by to pick up a coffee. The display showed several knitted scarves and jumpers with some tacky Christmas decoration along with it. But Arthur’s eyes weren’t glaring and judging at how awful the display looked. Rather his eyes were glued to the red knitted scarf. He must get that for Merlin.

(It did help that in the morning, he noticed Merlin’s scarf had been fraying a lot, to the point where Arthur just want to sit there and pick at the loose threads.)

He strolled into the shop, his need for coffee temporary forgotten, and approached the counter. “How much is that scarf on the display?”

The old granny with a full hair of white laughed, staring at him like he had horns or something equally ridiculous. “Oh love, that’s not for sale. But you can buy some yarn and knit one for your special someone.”

How much could that little scarf be? Arthur had wanted to ask. But from the way the old granny looked, he held his tongue. She was already out of the counter and walking towards the yarn section.

“Here we have the red yarns. We have plenty to choose from depending if you want – dark red, crimson, fire engine and what-have-you. And on this side are the knitting needles. Next to that are some books on how to knit. I would recommend this one if you want to knit a basic scarf.”

Arthur wasn’t deaf. He could hear the way the old women said basic like she think he couldn’t knit a damn scarf. So he bought up whatever she said he would need and it ended up costing way beyond ten quid. But he would justify that the yarn to make the scarf were under the limit, so technically the gift would be on budget.

Which brings Arthur back to stabbing himself with the knitting needle again. “This better be worth it,” he mutters to himself as he steadies and keeps the instruction book open with his feet.

Since he couldn’t very well knit at home with Merlin walking around the flat and just being everywhere when Arthur wanted some quiet time to work on the gift, so he has no choice but to bring it back to his office. “No one is to disturb me,” he tells his secretary before walking into his much-too-large of an office.

Less than seven days to go until Christmas Day and Arthur is only barely if-you-squint half way to the scarf, and if you don’t count the tassel things at the ends. “Push all my meetings and anything else until after noon,” he says into the intercom. He is giving up work to knit a stupid present. Next year, he is going to insist on the usual no budget gift so he can avoid this entire mess again.

The next morning, he walks by the arts and crafts shop again and decides to drop in to talk to the old granny. He ends up telling her about his struggles with the scarf and his sore finger pads.

“Oh dear, I must have forgotten to tell you about these,” she says apologetically. She hands him a pack of self-adhesive finger pads which would avoid getting the knitting needles jammed into his fingers every time he slipped.

While he looks even more ridiculous with these finger pads stuck onto his fingers, his progress improves much quicker as he doesn’t need to waste time hissing and cursing everything in sight from the pain.

Arthur literally exclaims when he finishes the last of the scarf, only to remember he still has the tassels to make and attach onto the main piece. He puts the scarf around his neck and checks himself out in the mirror. “It does look odd without the tassels,” he tells himself.

The door swings open before he can even react to it. His secretary trails behind a very angry but concerned looking Morgana. “I’m sorry – she just barged in,” his secretary, Sally, he remembers this time around, blubbers away. Arthur waves her off since this is Morgana. No one can stop Morgana if she wanted to enter a room, unless it had something to do with Uther, but even then.

Arthur peers down and it suddenly clicks for him to shove the knitting down to his lap. He grins to cover his embarrassment. “What can I do for you, Morgana?”

“I was all worried about you overworking yourself when you stay in your office all the time,” Morgana starts, “but then I find you knitting instead.”

“It’s for Merlin’s gift,” he replies.

“I can tell. Unless you’re knitting for me, which I would thank you and not thank you at the same time. Then tossing it into the ‘will not ever wear or touch again’ closet.”

“So glad to hear that’s how you’d treat my gift.”

“Well, I’m heading out. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me – until after Merlin opens his gift and I’ll spill how you’ve holed up in your office to knit.”

“I’m sure that will be a lovely story, but shoo before I have to kick you out.”

Another handful of hours later, Arthur finally finishes the last tassel and attaches it to the scarf. He would never admit that his scarf is subpar to the one on display, probably made by the same granny who sold him the materials and probably had been knitting longer than him and Merlin combined. Either way, he impresses himself at how well it actually looked because now he wants to keep it as his own and just give Merlin a gift card.

Arthur tosses the extra folders aside and uses the box for the scarf since buying a box would likely put him over the budget. And he is too lazy to go out and brave the crowds just to buy a cardboard box. He places the scarf in, patting it because he’s sad to see it go, and wraps it up with some colour paper he’s found around the office. He attaches the Christmas card that’s been written since the beginning of November, well before he’s found a suitable gift, and breathes out a sigh of relief as he’s finally finished the present.

Merlin better appreciates all the hard work he’s put into the present because Arthur cannot contemplate seeing those knitting needles and that blasted book again.

+

Arthur watches as Merlin flails about and stares in shock at the red scarf he’s holding in his hands. Right away Arthur can tell Merlin knows that Arthur’s knitted this himself because while Arthur does continue to claim the scarf is The Best Thing Ever, it really isn’t and there’s a bit of a hole in one of the ends because he misread the instruction at the beginning about the rows and ran off for a bit when Merlin called him out for supper.

Merlin wraps it around Arthur’s neck and pulls him into a kiss. “Thank you,” he says quietly, still in awe at the scarf and all that. “And you know I appreciate all the hard work you’ve put into it,” he adds, voicing what Arthur is thinking in his head right at that moment.

It turns out Merlin returns the appreciation to Arthur in bed too.

[FIC] (Baseball) Infatuations and Fantasies

2010-11-18T04:08:55Z

Title: Infatuations and Fantasies
Rating: R, for language and infidelity
Pairing/Characters: Alex Rodriguez/Derek Jeter (NYY)
Summary: Set around '01-'02, Alex is in New York for a series against the Yankees. He and Derek are good friends, but Derek has a different idea.
Word Count: ~1,500
Disclaimer: Nothing here is true because it's all in my head.
Notes: A big thanks to Google Docs and pen and paper for allowing me to write this. BECAUSE WINDOWS XP THINKS IT'S FUNNY TO CRASH AND NOT BOOT UP. (Thus begins the 5 hour freakout and 5 hour restoring process and ends up with a newly reformatted laptop and everything backed up.)
Notes 2: This is written for bats_and_balls's prompt - five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told and also for prompt 010. Years for fanfic100 and the table is here.

Before Cynthia, there had been Jess, Samantha, Carrie-Ann, Rob (if anyone asks about that night, it’s Rebecca), and finally Erin, who he thought was “the one” until she broke his heart because she slept with his next door neighbour back when he was still in Seattle and on the road. It ended up being only a blip in his timeline because a few months later, he was in Texas and just broke the record for the highest-paid athlete ever. So really, it was her loss.

Things with Cynthia, they are great. She makes him smile whenever he sees her - out of the shower, first thing in the morning when he wakes up in their bed, the moment he comes home after a long road trip and sees her on the couch - the little things. He feels amazing when she is around, no pressure, no anything.

So the sixth looks to turn out to be “the one”.

But she doesn’t make his heart thump like Derek does. Whenever Derek is around, his palms get sweaty, his mouth goes dry, and his mind goes blank. It is ridiculous, really. He thought by now, after so many years, he would be over the infatuation. He tells himself that he is over it, but when Derek is nearby, his body tells him that he isn’t, not by a long shot.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Derek asks him easily. They are standing on the pitch at Yankee Stadium, one team waiting for the other to leave so they could use the field to practice before game time.

Alex’s mouth dries up, his hands damp underneath the battling gloves. “It’s great,” he grins, a little too forced for a casual chat between two friends - two really good friends. It is the main reason why Alex never acted on his feelings, other than the fact he writes it off as a harmless crush. The bottom line is that they are friends first, anything else second.

“So, you swinging by after the game tonight?” Everyone knows that they never sleep in their hotel rooms whenever their teams play against each other. After Alex signed that contract with the Rangers, Derek joked that he could finally stop sleeping on the shoddy air mattress on the floor in Alex’s tiny room. He was right - he stayed in the guest bedroom next to Alex’s own room when Alex finally bought a house in Texas.

“Definitely,” Alex replies and notices most of his teammates have returned to the visitor locker room already. “Hey, I gotta go, see you at the game.”

The game goes by in a blur, Alex can barely concentrate on the field when Derek is staring at him from the batter’s box and vice versa. He’s rarely like this. When he’s on the field, nothing can distract him. He’s been over this countless time before. But this time it feels different; he doesn’t know if there is something in the air or if they change the light bulbs that are shining down from the stanchions, but fuck, he knows that he isn’t a hundred percent on his game right now.

It turns out that it doesn’t matter because the Rangers score enough runs to win the game easily, and he barely has to field any hard grounders towards his way. Even Pudge can see the relief on his face after the game. Alex shakes his head when his catcher walks by and asks him if he’s okay. “Everyone has an off night,” Alex explains. And he brushes it off as part of his overly active imagination; seeing things when there’s nothing there at all. It’s not the first time this has happened before.

Alex waits for Derek as he bums around in the players’ parking lot, awkwardly saying goodbye to the Yankees’ players, especially when the newer players look like they are ready to jump Alex for being in the “enemy’s territory”. He should have just taken a cab to Derek’s instead of nodding when Derek said he’ll give Alex a ride back.

It’s worst now that he isn’t a new kid on the block. In fact it looks ridiculous now, when only a few years back it would have been rather adorable and would have made the tidbits in tomorrow’s newspaper column.

Just as Alex starts to walk away from Derek’s car to find a cab, Derek finally emerges from the shadows of Yankee Stadium

“Sorry to keep you waiting, you know how the media is when you lose an ugly one like this,” Derek explains, tossing his bag into the backseat as Alex gets into the passenger seat.

Alex nods. He knows what it is like on some level. But he’s never been in Derek’s shoes, not in that position and not in a city like this. He can’t imagine playing in a city where every action and every mistake is scrutinized turned into headlines the next day. At the same time, you’re invincible when you bring back a championship. No, he can’t imagine it.

-

It’s not like he fucking grew a conscience in the last five minutes. They have never done anything other than hang out like bros when they are together. But Alex knows a come-on when he sees one, especially when he’s seen it in action first hand when they hit the bars.

But there aren’t going to be girls and bars tonight.

It happens before his brain catches up. It happens as clothes are shed, pooled on the floor and forgotten along the way to the bedroom. Both only seem half-surprised when they realize they both know what they’re doing.

And just like that, it is over quickly. Derek lets Alex jerk him off before he tosses the condom away.

They microwave the takeouts from earlier, now cold since they were busy doing other things instead of eating. (Derek called it in before he left the stadium, but bad timing really, since they were in the bedroom when the delivery boy dropped by.)

It is an awkward silence, both pretending it isn’t as they watch another edition of SportsCenter on TV. Alex jabs his chopsticks into his lo mein. “Why did you do it?” He wants to know. This is going to change everything and nothing. He understood this the moment Derek kissed him in the car. He has no illusion of being anything more than what it was.

Derek shrugs. “I just wanted to know. Isn’t that what you wanted? The way you look at me whenever you think it isn’t obvious.”

Alex nods slightly, like he understands Derek’s reasoning. His eyes are glued to the TV screen.

It was a rather harmless crush, like crushing on the prom... queen when you know you’re never going to have a chance with her, so you just sneak glances when she walks by, but really, you have better things to do and more important things to think about. But the fantasy is still there and it is just good wanking material.

Sex with Derek is great, he can agree on that as he stuffs the rest of the lo mein into his mouth. But it loses its charm quickly when he knows that this is a one-time deal and the fantasy is gone.

Derek is looking at him, searching for some sort of reaction on his face, but Alex is giving away nothing. So Alex smiles, the one he’s perfected over the years when he is with the media, when he has his pictures taken knowing the camera is on him. “Let’s just finish our food and go to bed. I’m exhausted,” he says. He wants to spit out a scathing remark, something to hurt Derek, and he has one too. The engagement ring is tucked away in his sock drawer, and he is just waiting for the right time to pop the question. He knows that Cynthia isn’t a fan of Derek - she thinks he’s a bad influence. And Derek shares the same sentiment because he thinks Alex can do better.

But Alex keeps it to himself, downing the rest of his beer. It won’t matter in the long run because he’s going to ask her to marry him whenever Derek likes it or not.

Derek leans over and kisses him, lightly on the mouth. He pulls away just as quickly, again searching for something in Alex’s eyes. Mistaking Alex’s open mouth as an invitation to another kiss, Derek leans in. “What are you doing?” Alex asks, putting his hand out and pushing Derek back. “This was a one-time thing,” he says and he can see the hurt in Derek’s eyes. There. He stands up, “thanks for dinner,” and walks to the familiar guest bedroom.

Before Alex slides into bed, he calls Cynthia for their nightly chat when he’s on the road. “I love you,” he tells her softly, like he really means it. She laughs and teasingly scolds him for being silly but returns the sentiment nonetheless.

Alex falls asleep to the sound of light rain that is beginning to fall over Manhattan.

[BIG PIMPING] BONTEMPSCAPS

2010-11-09T06:33:56Z

Join us at BONTEMPSCAPS

(Also looking for contributors!)

[BIG PIMPING] HBOWARCAPS @ TUMBLR

2010-11-05T22:23:52Z

Enlist today
(for all your Band of Brothers, Generation Kill & The Pacific needs)

(I'm also looking for a few contributors to the group.)

[ETC] Adding HTML to your writing in MS Word using Find and Replace

2010-10-17T21:52:26Z

We sometimes use emphasis when we write. The problem is when we post it to LiveJournal (& etc), the emphasis do not translate into HTML.

But now it does, using the Find and Replace option in Word.

My name is Ivy. I live in Canada.

Pressing Ctrl+H (or Apple+F, or "you guys know your Mac") will make the Find and Replace dialog show up. Click on More for more options.

Click on Format and select Font in the dropdown. To replace italicized words, choose Italic, etc for bold/underline. Press OK.

Click the Replace prompt/box to edit the options. Type in ^&, for ^& for bold, or ^& for underline.

[optional] Click on Format, scroll down to Not Italics (or Not Bold), so that after you run it, you will not get the emphasis with the HTML tags.

Click Replace All to run it. Repeat as needed.

^& is a special code for "Find What" text, where you replace what you find with what you found.

Ta-da. It's actually really easy. I didn't even know Word had this option until I was doing this online exam for a temp agency (lolol). Then I googled to make sure what I was doing was correct. Have fun writing!

P.S. Or user for italics and </stong> for bold to allow better accessibility:

In terms of accessibility, a screen reader uses the strong and em tags are emphasis levels. Screen readers will, as the W3C puts it, “change the synthesis parameters, such as volume, pitch and rate accordingly”. This surely nails it. If we were using b and i to have visual representation we can get to a higher level by using strong and em as they will be doing the same visual job while conveying the structure and working towards more acessibility.

[source]

(Feel free to redirect people to here, or whatever. I don't know enough writing communities to post this around :])

[FANMIX] Brad Colbert/Nate Fick - Light Up The Trenches My Heart Lies (Until I Can Breathe Again)

2010-10-17T00:32:29Z

opening
This is for noelia_g's warbigbang fic found here ♥
Summary: Actors AU. Brad Colbert and Nate Fick had met on the set of a now cancelled sci-fi show, years ago. Now, Hollywood turns out to be a small town after all, and it’s hard to avoid someone you broke up with. Especially when you both sign up for the same movie.
Along with komadreja's oh-so-pretty art found here.

i muse can't take my eyes off you (originally sung by Frankie Valli)
ii rex goudie you got to me
iii gavin degraw stay
iv relient k come right out and say it
v finger eleven i'll keep your memory vague
vi franz ferdinand live alone
vii secondhand serenade stranger
viii michael bublé song for you (originally sung by Leon Russell)
	zip (42.72mb) [all songs/arts]

ending
the individual downloads retain their own original id3 tags
credit: daylife, zimbio, broadway, bijoux at here & here, photoshelter, a-skarsgard
#fandom things | other fanmixes

[ART/FANMIX] Carey Price/Jaroslav Halák - In the Distance, Fading

2010-10-13T00:41:38Z

opening
This is for northern_star's rpf_big_bang fic found here ♥
Summary: Getting eliminated from the playoffs means the end of more than just the hockey season for Carey Price and Jaro Halak this year. And when Jaro gets traded to another team, it seems as though the death knell has sounded on a relationship that never quite got very far off the ground in the first place. But despite the odds stacked so high against them, is there still a chance they can be together in the end?

	one / aqualung / something to believe Carey's kiss is everything Jaro sees him as — eager and intense, full of energy, of fire, yet with just the slightest hint of uncertainty — it's perfect, and everything he's been yearning for in silence for weeks.
	two / backstreet boys / i need you tonight Food gets there and they settle on the bed, side by side against the headboard, to watch the movie. When Jaro steals a few fries off of Carey's plate, still claiming that he's "not hungry, but you never eat them all anyway," Carey just laughs it off and places the plate between them.
	three / faber drive / tongue tied As hard as Jaro has tried, he's never been able to come up with the right word for what they've been doing, and he's pretty sure it's not due to his somewhat limited English vocabulary. If he knew what it was, then maybe he could tell if there's really a chance for it to go on past these playoffs.
four / snow patrol / you’re all i have "I hate it too," Jaro says simply. In a pitiful little sigh he adds, "I'll miss you..." The words are barely out of his mouth that Carey is leaning in, kissing him almost desperately, as if it's the last time he ever gets a chance to do so.
five / duffy / hanging on too long This was bound to happen, and deep down, he knows he should have expected it. He'd just been deluding himself, thinking they could somehow maintain a long distance relationship.
six / lifehouse / walking away But Jaro just shakes his head, as if this is the only thing he has left to say, 'no'.
bonus track god is an astronaut - in the distance fading (instrumental)	zip (37.2mb) [all songs/arts]

ending
Carey Price (wiki) / Jaroslav Halák (wiki)
Despite Halák's success in the playoffs, he was traded away to the St. Louis Blues in the off-season,
in favour Price, who signed a two year contract to stay with the Canadiens.
the individual downloads do not have the album cover in the tag.
credit: daylife & zimbio
#fandom things | other fanmixes

[PICSPAM] - Hello (Arthur/Merlin)

2010-09-27T20:46:05Z

I’ve been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams I’ve kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you’re looking for?

I can see it in your eyes
I can see it in your smile
You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and my arms are open wide
‘Cause you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much, I love you…

I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I’ve just got to let you know

‘Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely, or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven’t got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you…

Hello, is it me you’re looking for?
‘Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven’t got a clue
But let me start by saying… I love you

[download here]
(original sung by Lionel Richie)

this is for picspammy's challenge 22 - illustrate a song
screencaps | my other picspams!
do not repost these | my tumblr (clicking on the picture will link you to the entry)
i was totally going for the reincarnation aspect, then realized i did. totally happy about that, haha.
MAYBE THIS WILL CURE MY CONSTANT READING OF MERLIN!FIC. I AM OBSESSED. I'm so glad I got back into the show because I stopped watching for an entire season fdklsdjfdlk :(

[FANMIX] Johnny Weir/Stéphane Lambiel/Evan Lysacek - After Night Comes Dawn

2010-09-25T23:36:00Z

opening
This is for beren_writes's vampirebigbang fic found here ♥
Summary: AU from Kings on Ice in March – while in Moscow, Johnny is attacked by a creature he only thought existed in nightmares. Infected by the vampire his only hope is a group of Vampire Hunters, but some of them think it would be easier to just kill him and be done with it. With more enemies than friends he struggles for his life as well as his humanity.

	01. yellowcard - fighting Johnny wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but instead he took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to bring himself under control. 02. lifehouse - disarray When he woke up the next time, he was still on the bed, but the straps were gone and the bed had been moved to another position in the room.
	03. mumford & songs - the cave He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, but he followed what seemed to be a well developed survival instinct and just kept going. 04. panic! at the disco - when the day met the night "[W]hatever you are you are not a pure vampire, or even what you were this morning." It was something, but was it enough.
	05. dido - it comes and it goes I'm stuck somewhere in between. 06. jon mclaughlin - we all need saving He lost himself in the beating of Stéphane's heart, its rhythm strong and true, and it was hours before he actually fell asleep.
	07. westlife - it's you He had noticed Stéphane's pet name for him change from 'Mon Ami' to 'Mon Amour', but he hadn't expected Stéphane to drop everything to accompany him back to the States. 08. silversun pickups - panic switch "Why the fuck are you here?" Evan seemed to decide to go with an easier topic. "A moment of insanity," Johnny muttered, more to himself than Evan.
	09. britney spears - 3 "You have to admit he's nice on the eyes." "Mais oui," was Stéphane's response, "I have often thought so." 10. bon jovi - it's my life Having told the world that he was taking time off to reinvent his skating and re-examine his life, that's what Johnny did and he decided it was time to take charge.
	zip (60.45mb) [all songs/arts]

notes
Johnny Weir (wiki) / Stéphane Lambiel (wiki) / Evan Lysacek (wiki)
click on each album art for its original size
the individual downloads do not have the album cover in the tag.
#fandom things | other fanmixes

[PICSPAM] True Blood: Colours

2010-09-04T04:44:11Z

CHALLENGE 21 BRAIN TWIN
Brain twins: solookup & hopeitallaway
Fandom: True Blood
Topic: Colours
The Colours of True Blood
spoiler warning: up to 3x10

red;

red, or something like it;

pink (enough);

yellow;

green;

blue;

credit: screencaps
& they will be posted at my tumblr very soon :)
& originally posted here

[PICSPAM] five actors you would like to see as a companion on doctor who

2010-09-02T23:05:05Z

CHALLENGE 21 BRAIN TWIN
Brain twins: solookup & sensations
Fandom: Doctor Who
Topic: five actors you would like to see as a companion
five actors you would like to see as a companion

01. Benedict Cumberbatch
as seen on: Sherlock
(aka, is this not obvious?)

02. Kristen Bell
as seen on: Veronica Mars, Forgetting Sarah Marshall

03. Romola Garai
as seen on: Emma, Glorious 39

04. John Francis Daley
as seen on: Bones, Kitchen Confidential, Freaks and Geeks

05. Natalie Morales
as see on: The Middleman, White Collar

- you can obvious tell I spend way too much time on tumblr (which will get the high-res because I'm too lazy to resize, and yes, totally pimping it right now) & follow this tag on tumblr + reblog eh eh eh
- next time pick an easier topic, or make it much easier on yourself (nonetheless it was really, really fun)
- excuse the lulzy manips
- originally posted here
eta: uh, thanks to natalie morales for dropping by? :D?

Credit:
Doctor Who: Summerskin.FoF.net, DavidTennantFan.com, TheWhoShop.com, DWImage2005.com, DoctorWho.SonicBiro.co.uk
Benedict Cumberbatch: enchantedfleur, BC-Online.co.uk
Kristen Bell: VM-Caps.com, Kristen-B.net
Romola Garai: Romola-Garai.org
John Francis Daley: HotN-Caps.com
Natalie Morales: ComicsContinuum.com, Swizzmizz.com
Textures: ohfreckle, mellowmint, aulxdayz

For au_bingo

2010-07-12T20:16:19Z

Other: Mutants	Other: Kid Fic	Historical: Victorian	Fantasy & Supernatural: Sword and Sorcery	Other: Celebrities
Other: Evil Goateed Universe	Other: Castaways	Alternate History: Canon event changed	Fantasy & Supernatural: Fairy Tale	Historical: Ancient Civilizations
Other: Mundane	Alternate History: Someone never died	FREE	Fantasy & Supernatural: Werewolves	Other: Prostitutes
Fantasy & Supernatural: Vampires	Alternate History: Someone died/didn’t come back	Historical: Feudal Japan	Other: Slaves	Historical: Author’s Choice
Other: Actors	Historical: Regency	Other: Film Noir	Other: Superpowers	Other: High-school

For schmoop_bingo

2010-06-20T02:52:40Z

Yes, look what you guys have done. For schmoop_bingo.

greeting card	romantic holiday	stuffed animal	anniversary – one partner sick	anniversary – perfect gift
kitchen disaster	movie night	singing	first fight – making up	winter holiday/festival
sunscreen	friend in need	WILD CARD	kidfic – first injury	illness – shared
posing as a couple	bedtime rituals	Eskimo kisses	kiss – first	snowed in
love letter	holiday – one person sick	nurse back to health	meeting the parents	autumn holiday/festival

[FIC] (Figure Skating) Five Times Evan Dreamt He and Johnny were Different People

2010-06-12T22:45:02Z

Title: Five Times Evan Dreamt He and Johnny were Different People
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Word Count: 8,660
Pairing/Characters: Evan Lysacek and Johnny Weir (Figure Skating)
Summary: Evan is having really weird dreams involving Johnny, who he hasn't seen in months.
Disclaimer: All characters and names belong to their rightful owners. The following is untrue and I am not profiting from this.
Notes: Sorry for butchering Shakespeare and insane tense change in each story. I don't even know why I did that. And props to myself for finally finishing/writing a 5things fic.
Notes 2: This is written for skategreat's Cliche Challenge #42 (Hallucinations / visions) with a side of #45 (five things) and #12 (high school AU)

1.

Evan found himself wearing clothes from not this era, or century even. He looked down and saw that he was wearing tights and point-toed shoes. At least he had a black blouse thingy on, with a gold rope tied to his waist. Luckily he didn’t have a cape on; at least he wasn’t a villain this time.

“Lysacek,” this grim ogre-looking thing said and bowed at him.

Evan dipped his head in recognition and walked by the man without a second thought. He took a goblet from one of the busboys, downed its content all in one go, and handed it back. The cold liquor went down smoothly as the temperature rose in the stuffy banquet hall.

He adjusted his tights as those damn things itched against this skin. As if the Lysaceks couldn’t afford tights that didn’t itch so much because he was sure they couldn’t worth that much.

Evan looked around trying to find Rosaline. He hoped to win her heart in this banquet, or would, if he could actually make his way through or around the crowd without being detected.

All thoughts of the girl he was infatuated with flew out of his mind as his eyes stopped at one of the sons of the Weirs. Evan had known about the existence of Johnny, but for some reason, had never seen or heard from him before. Usually boys at his age were out and about (not causing troubles on the streets), but Johnny, he stayed indoors most of the time with Lady Weir while (of course they were rumours) practicing dancing and painting and piano-playing – all the things Evan had no patience for and would not be caught doing.

Even though he was a long distance across the hall, he could still see Johnny’s outfit – a very long blouse, bordering on dress-length, in rich crimson red with gold trimming while donning a sparkling gold hair band on his head. His hands already yearned to touch Johnny’s pale skin, especially after the glimpses he saw of Johnny’s collarbone and shoulder blades. His eyes never strayed away from Johnny as he moved across the ballroom. He let out the sigh of relief when he saw the man (Count Something or Another) leaving Johnny’s side with a frown on his face.

The closer he got, the more beautiful Johnny was. He was intoxicated and drunk on the image before him. Finally he made it to his prize.

(Somewhere far away, Evan hears ringing but he ignores it.)

“Weir,” Evan said, slightly out of breath – both from maneuvering, the heat of the ballroom engulfing him, and the sight in front of him. “I’m –”

“Evan Lysacek. I know who you are,” Johnny replied in a guarded tone. “How did you get into my party?”

“I have my ways,” Evan laughed. Now that he was much closer, he could smell the perfume Johnny had worn for the night. He needed to so badly bury his head in the crook of Johnny’s neck. But a gentleman kept his hands to himself until he received the permission from the lady.

“How... resourceful of you,” Johnny smirked, then setting down his goblet onto the window ledge. He took Evan’s hand into his and led him out of the busy hall.

Evan had never been more lost as he trailed behind Johnny, so he didn’t dare to let go of the other man’s hand. He worried for a second if Johnny was taking him to a trap set up for him to be slain (their families were feuding after all). But after that second, Evan found himself distracted by the softness of Johnny’s hand and the urgency in the way Johnny’s hand gripped at his.

He almost bumped squarely into Johnny but stopped just in time – so he managed to cover his screw-up by encircling his long arms around the other man’s waist and pulling him in. Evan rested his head against Johnny’s shoulder, as the two looked out and onto a small garden.

“No one will find us here,” Johnny whispered, covering Evan’s hands with his.

Evan didn’t understand why the other man whispered when there was no one around. He wanted to say something in reply but he didn’t want to ruin the mood with something idiotic. Instead, he tightened his arms around Johnny’s waist and pressed a soft kiss against Johnny’s neck, and in his mind, vowing never to let go.

They watched the water from the giant water fountain fall peacefully as the moon shone down on them...

*

Evan swore his heart was ready to jump out of him with the way it was beating against his chest. He was pacing back and forth, waiting for Johnny to arrive. Friar Cowell (okay...) was already there with the Bible in his hand. The man had been more than happy to oblige when Evan asked if the friar could be the witness to Evan and Johnny’s union.

Now all that was missing was the bride himself. Johnny promised that he would be here, and Evan was not expecting the other man to go back against his words. What if Lady Weir, or worst, Weir himself found out their plan for elopement? This would not do.

So Evan continued to pace in the confine of the small church, waiting for his bride.

“My son, you must not worry. He will come,” Friar Cowell assured him, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. Evan tore his eyes off the ground and looked at the friar. He must put his trust in the man of faith because he severely lacked it right now.

(He hears his name being called but ignores it because he’s sure he’s hearing things considering there’s only him and Friar Cowell here.)

The two heads turned their attention towards the door as they heard rustling from the outside. Evan took a few steps to hide himself from the doorway and let out a big sigh of relief when he saw it was Johnny by himself and no one else to ruin their big day.

Johnny rushed to his side and took hold of his hands. “Sorry I’m late.”

“As long as you’re here,” Evan squeezed Johnny’s hands lightly and kissed Johnny lightly on the mouth.

Johnny led them to Friar Cowell. “We are ready,” he said softly, staring into Evan’s eyes with a soft smile on his face. Evan grinned back and returned the gaze with the same intensity.

“Evan Lysacek.”

Evan tore his eyes away from Johnny’s green eyes and wondered what the hold up was.

“Evan!”

He watched Friar Cowell talk, but no sound came out of the man’s mouth. He shook off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

(“Evan! C’mon!”

He tried his hardest to ignore his name being called from elsewhere because it was definitely a voice belonging to a female.

Evan slowly opened his eyes and yawned quietly. “Hmm?” He mumbled, trying to fall back asleep.

“We’re here, c’mon,” Anna tugged on his sleeve again. “Wake up sleepy head.”

Evan pouted; he just felt so tired and even though the airplane seats weren’t all that comfortable, it was better than getting out of it. But he knew he had to get up sooner or later, and he didn’t want to get on Anna’s bad side so early in the competition; not to mention he was the one dragging Anna across the country just so they could train. So he rubbed his eyes, shoving sleep to the side before grabbing his bags from the next seat.

After he and Anna got into the car for the hotel, he leaned against the passenger door, staring out into the darkness, trying to hold onto the fragments of the dream he just had. All he could remember were the ghost of light kisses and the brilliant green eyes staring right into him.)

2.

Evan tugs on the knot of his tie in frustration. After that horrendous failure of a meeting with the self-help book writer, he still has another meeting to go before his day is over.

(Nina, that’s her name – not only was she late to the meeting, she was also fully unprepared for the meeting, dressed in this ridiculous outfit and looking like she partied all night and just woke up. The only thing she brought was her manuscript, with ink smears all over the cover page.)

But Evan knows better than to dwell on it. It’s not his fault that the writers are unprepared. He is the one giving them an opportunity of a lifetime and they’re just wasting like by being stupid. No one gets anywhere without hard work and neither did he. He worked his ass off to get head editor of this publishing company. Not to mention Frank, his boss, rode his ass hard to prepare him for the job – night after night of staying at work and reading manuscripts while drinking awful coffee and trying to not half-ass editing the writing.

Without a word, his secretary sets down the dossier for his next meeting on his desk and leaves his office. Evan still has another forty-five minutes before the next potential client arrives, so he decides to take the folder with him and get out of the office for the remaining time. He needs stronger coffee than the pot offered at the office. And maybe a donut to go with it.

He orders a coffee (two milks, one sugar) and a boston creme donut before grabbing an empty seat as far away from the busy lobby as possible. As he takes a bit into the donut, he looks at his fingers and realizes that maybe it isn’t such a good idea to eat while reading since his fingers are sticky from the glaze. He leaves the dossier alone and polishes off the donut in quick succession, savoring the filling in the centre. He looks around and he is sure no one is looking, he licks his fingers clean before wiping them down with his napkin.

“That looked really good,” a voice around him says.

Evan looks up from the manuscript to find a man staring down at him. He frowns immediately and closes the manuscript. What the fuck?

“Oh, I don’t mean that,” the man takes the empty seat across from him. “I meant your donut. I wish I could have one, but my coach still has me under strict diet.”

“Um, okay?” Evan’s kind of lost for words because it’s only a donut. He doesn’t eat it that often, but often enough to satisfy his craving. (Not to mention the poor placement of a coffee shop at the lobby of his office building, so he passes by it too many times in a day.)

“If I get one, will you take half of it off my hands? I really want one now,” the man pouts.

Now that Evan is actually paying attention to the man across from his table, he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from snorting from laughter at the other man’s faux mullet. But he can’t say no to another half a donut. He’ll just make sure to skip the next scheduled donut time. “Sure,” he slides the chair back and gets up. “Don’t worry about it,” he says when the other man tries to get up and looks confused. “You can tell your coach that some man offered you half a donut and you were too nice to tell the man no.”

Evan comes back his purchase quickly, handing off the half-a-donut with a napkin to the stranger. He got a good look at the stranger from the counter as he waited for his order. While he knew he would never wear what the man was wearing (leather leggings with black boots and this cashmere top and nails painted black, not to mention the makeup), he had to admit the getup was quite interesting and stylish.

“Thank you,” the stranger says before taking a small bite into the donut. “By the way, I’m Johnny.”

“Evan,” he replies and is glad to finally have a name to the face. He checks for the time on his watch. He still has another twenty minutes, but he guesses he should head up soon.

“So what are you doing here?” Johnny asks after swallowing the bit of donut. He sure is taking his time with it because Evan is eating the last bit of the donut already.

“Just doing some light reading,” Evan chuckles. He wipes down his fingers and shoves the book draft back into the folder. Even though he knows that Johnny isn’t going to peer into it or run off with it, he rather be safe than sorry.

Finally Johnny finishes the donut and takes out a water bottle from his bag (that he placed on the empty seat he grabbed from a vacant table). Even his bag looks high-fashioned, wow.

“Thanks again for the donut. You’re a life saver. And I’m not kidding when I say that.”

Evan nods like he means it and finishes off the coffee. He grabs the throwaway napkins and puts it in the empty cup before putting the lid on. “Uh, I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Johnny.” Evan stands again, taking the dossier in one hand and the other reaching for the empty cup to throw away.

“Yeah you too,” Johnny replies with a soft smile. Evan catches Johnny’s gaze and okay wow his eyes are really green and his eyelashes are even longer than some of the women he’s dated.

Evan is glad to be in an empty lift by himself because he swears he’s blushing from the way Johnny’s gaze lingered on and even he couldn’t make himself walk away until he realizes he really needs to get back to his office to get ready for the meeting. He leans back against the lift and lets his head fall back and rest on the cool metal wall. He didn’t know how much Johnny affected him until he left the table. Now he can’t get the images of Johnny batting his eyelashes at him and the way he bites down on his lips when he thinks no one is looking. The elevator doors open and Evan straightens his suit (and himself) before stepping out and into the publishing firm.

His secretary glares at him when Evan walks past him, which just makes Evan rolls his eyes. He still has a few minutes to spare, so he takes a seat in his comfy leather chair and waits for the client. He trusts that it turns out well because he does not want this cheery mood to go sour so soon already. While he waits, he tries to finish off the notes and the manuscript that he never got around to downstairs. For a second time within an hour, Evan gets interrupted while reading.

“Mr. Weir is here,” the voice of his secretary comes through the phone.

“Send him in,” he replies and closes the draft up. He stands up, ready to greet the client. His desk is already uncluttered and straightened out, but he pushes the items around anyway to make sure it is perfect. First impressions are everything. (He can still hear Frank’s voice telling him that.)

But he guess he doesn’t need to make a first impression because he has a familiar pair of warm green eyes staring back at him, along with the soft smile that makes his stomach flutter.

(“You seem to be in a happy mood today,” Anna comments as she puts her hands on Evan’s hips to make them move. Evan doesn’t say anything in return, instead just grins at his partner.)

3.

Evan was going to make some toasts, breads already in the toaster, when he went to his fridge to get some Smucker’s awesome jam. He took out a jar of marmalade, unscrewed the cap, and frowned when there were less than enough scraps for both slices. He opened the fridge door again and stuck his head inside, hoping to find another jar of anything for his toasts. Alas, he was less than lucky today.

So he popped the two slices of bread out of the toaster, grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed out of his flat. At least there was a grocery store around the corner because his stomach was grumbling already.

When he got there, he headed straight for the jam section, ignoring all the distraction with the chips and the ice creams and even the baked goods. He stood in the aisles, staring at the truckload of variation on Smucker’s jams and jellies. He really like the taste of marmalade on his toast, but then all these other ones were screaming at him to take them home too. Not to mention all the fruits on the label made it all that more appealing.

Evan ended up grabbing five jars of jam and jelly (orange marmalade, strawberry, blueberry, mixed fruit, and currant), which was entirely stupid because he was trying to carry all of them in his arms, trying not to drop any of them as he trekked to the checkout, when he should have grabbed a basket when he came into the store. Duh. Or that he really should have chosen just one jar because how often was he home to eat toast?

At least the kid at the checkout register took pity on him and picked the jars out of his arms and placed him gently on the counter. Evan handed the kid his credit card, and he left happily with a bag of Smucker’s delicious jams and jellies.

Evan took out all five jars and placed them in a straight line on his kitchen counter. He starred at them for an equally long amount of time as he decided which flavour to use for his toast. His attention wavered when his toasts popped up from the toaster. He gingerly grabbed them and placed it on his plate, then grabbed a butter knife from the drawer.

“Evan!”

Evan whipped his head around to the voice, but he was sure no one was in his flat. So he pretended he didn’t hear the voice and instead looked at his Smucker’s jams instead.

“Lysacek!”

What? Evan mouthed as he gripped onto his butter knife a little tighter. He had to admit that he was a little spooked. He moved out of the kitchen to check every room in his not-really-that-big flat. (Bathroom? Nope. Bedroom? Nope. Den? Nope.)

“You’re getting colder and colder,” he heard the voice said again when he was looking out of his living room’s window. “Back in the kitchen!”

Great, now I’m hearing voices. Nonetheless, he slowly made his way back to his kitchen.

“Down here!” The voice hissed in annoyance when Evan’s eyes were darting in all directions, struggling to find a face to that voice. He looked down and found that his eyes landed on the row of jams he just purchased from the store.

“Uh,” Evan frowned. “I’m not crazy,” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again.

“No, you’re not crazy,” the voice said. “I’m the currant. Pick me up, pick me up already. The others are still unconscious because you kept knocking us around in the bag.”

“Um,” Evan stuttered and picked up the jar of currant. Now that he thought about it, the voice was really familiar for some reason.

“Okay, now you can stop manhandling me and put me down. Gently, if you please.”

“Johnny?” Evan asked hesitantly.

“Of course it’s me. Who else did you think it was? Seriously, Evan. Get a grip!”

“Get a grip?” Evan asked annoying, voice slightly hitched. “I’m like, the one who’s talking to a jar of jam here!”

“Yes well, at least you’re not the jam here. If you don’t keep your voice down, the others will wake up. I’m not sure Zhenya will be very happy to see that you’re the one who bought him and took him home.”

Evan’s face slightly paled at the mentioning of Plushenko. “Okay,” he said in a hushed voice. “What am I supposed to do with you guys? I just wanted to eat my toast with some marmalade. That’s all!”

“Yes well, all we wanted to do was sleep on those shelves. But look at us now, getting knocked out by a clumsy idiot. And who the hell buys five jars of jam at a time? Aren’t you still supposed to be on a diet?”

Evan whined like a puppy. “So do I not get any eat any of you guys?”

“No! What is wrong with you?”

All he wanted was toast! Now not only was he going to eat plain toast, but he had five jars of talking (Smucker’s) jam in his flat. This could not be happening. It had to be a dream of some sort. He pinched himself on the arm. “Ow! Fucking hurts.”

“Lysacek, did you just pinch yourself? Oh my god, you did, didn’t you?”

“Shut up!” He pouted, his hand soothing the sore spot on his arm. “Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.”

“Too bad for you Lysacek. Are you going to cry and run to your mommy?”

Oh god, that Russian-accented English.

(Evan wakes up to a pounding headache. He is supposed to be skating tonight, so he pops an Advil in his mouth and washes it down with a glass of water.

Later that night, he nearly trips on his skate getting onto the rink when he sees the giant light-up board of Smucker’s Stars on Ice on the other end.

At the end of his program, as he waited for the applauses and cheers at centre ice, he swears he sees five human-sized jars of Smucker’s jams and jellies skating across the ice in the corner of his eyes. He nearly scrambles off the ice.

He makes sure he has more than three hours of sleep that night.)

4.

Evan is sixteen or seventeen. He looks down in disgust at his too-thin body and gangly arms and legs. While he enjoys the growth spurt so he doesn’t end up being the shortest guy in his group, he does not enjoy how he’s not filling out his body and that he has to get new clothes because his jeans are too short now. (Not to mention now he sticks out like a sore thumb in his group of friends.)

His mom pats him lovingly when he tells her about it and she tells him that it’s all “part of growing up”. None of his sisters have to go through this. All they complain about is not keeping up with the fashion trends and want new clothes despite all their clothes are in perfect pristine condition.

And there’s nothing wrong with hoodies and sneakers, and occasionally some Bulls attire.

So why is the kid sitting next to him in physics class stare at him like he’s some alien from outer space? And Evan knows the kid is staring because he can see him from the corner of his eyes and really, the kid is not being subtle about it. He’s tempted to say something about it but he’s trying to listen to Mr. Post (everyone calls him Postal because the guy is crazy) and jot down notes at the same time. It’s distracting. Usually Jake shares his desk, but since he’s chasing some girl, he manages to switch desks with the kid.

Now that he thinks about it, his classmate looks familiar. They definitely don’t hang in the same circles of friends, or even friends of friends but he’s definitely seen the guy a few times in the hallways.

(It doesn’t help the fact that he’s horrible with names. The only ones he remembers are his friends and the teachers. And only after getting constantly glared from Jake as Evan stops using the made up nickname of Beanie for Walt, who really wears a beanie to school everyday. But now that he really thinks about it and going through all the names and mental images of his classmates, he thinks the guy’s last name is Weir, and somehow, it fits him perfectly.)

“Okay, you can stop staring now,” Evan hisses to Weir as soon as Mr. Post finishes his lesson and leaves them to their own work.

The kid scoffs, “Me? Glare at you? I have better taste than that, thank you very much.”

“Whatever,” Evan rolls his eyes and focuses his attention back to his physics homework. He pulls out the periodic chart from his textbook and starts drawing out the Bohr models in his notebook. He breezes through that section as it’s actually the easiest part of the assignment. But not before he swears that a pair of eyes is staring right at him again. Okay, seriously. He turns his head to find the Weir kid (ha) looking at his homework.

“Uh,” Evan starts, gripping tightly at his pencil. “Do you need any help?”

Again, Weir looks at him like Evan’s growing horns out of his head. Really, Evan’s just trying to be nice. He watches Weir go through all these different expressions which Evan assumes the poor guy is probably having some kind of internal debate before finally nodding slowly. “Usually Vanessa helps me out,” he says, “but since your friend over there has been hogging her, I have no idea what’s going on in class most of the time.”

Evan earns a genuine smile from Johnny before he pushes his textbook and his notebook to the middle of the table and shuffles his chair over.

Before they know it, Mr. Post dismisses his class after the bell sounds.

“Thanks, you know, for the help,” Weir says as he packs up his books. “Hopefully, I’ll get Vanessa back next class.”

“Yeah, of course,” Evan replies sheepishly, unused to being thanked. “Always happy to help.” He leaves the near-emptied room and takes his time in the busy hallway. His next block is free anyway.

“Aw, look who just made a friend,” Jake coos, smacking Evan hard on his back. Evan nearly takes a stumble forward. Where the hell did Jake come from? “He’s cute isn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evan mumbles.

“You’re blushing, that’s adorable. You two would make a cute couple.”

Evan shakes it off and rolls his eyes. “How’s it going with whatshername?”

Jake grins, showing off his pearly whites. “Vanessa? She’s warming up to me, one class at a time. Looks like you’re going to be stuck with Johnny from now on.”

So the guy’s first name is Johnny. Hm. Evan pushes his friend lightly and cringes when he doesn’t know his strength and Jake ends up at the lockers.

“Ass,” Jake smirks.

*

“It looks like it’s me and you again,” Johnny quips, twisting his head around at Jake and Vanessa’s table.

Evan sneaks a peek at the two also, before nodding. “Yeah, I guess.”

It’s distracting, really. He can tell Johnny isn’t remotely paying attention to what Mr. Post is writing on the chalkboard. Evan sneaks a peek at Johnny twirling his feathered pen in his hand.

It’s distracting, really. He can see Johnny biting his lips when he finally jogs something down in his notebook. He feels it when Johnny shuffles in his seat, finding a better position to sit in the uncomfortable plastic chairs and somehow manages to kick his long legs.

It’s distracting, really. He ends up watching Johnny doodle on the side of the paper’s margins for the rest of Mr. Post’s lecture. Afterwards, he looks at his own notes, and half of it is gibberish, the other half, he doesn’t even remember writing them down.

It’s distracting, really. At least Jake usually zones out when he’s not listening to Mr. Post.

*

“So what do you think about Johnny?” Jake asks, on a Friday during their lunch block in the cafeteria.

Evan knows what’s coming. He’s been baited with these kinds of questions before. But Jake doesn’t need to know that. “Uh, he’s okay?”

“Mhm,” Jake nods, probably thinking of his next move already. “So...”

“So, nothing,” Evan cuts his friend off before his friend gets any grand ideas.

“Okay, whatever you say.”

*

Evan is getting much better at blocking Johnny’s antics. He’s gone through a class of non-stop gum chewing, a half-a-class of pen tapping, and another class of drinking out of water bottle every few minutes. It seems Johnny’s noticed that Evan is blocking Johnny’s antics out and being productive again because no sooner than the next class, Johnny has new tricks up his sleeve.

After the pop quiz, the physics class settles back to its normal routine with Mr. Post at the front of the class teaching them a new chapter in the textbook. So of course Evan’s taking notes and making sure he gets all the points down.

Johnny scoots over to close the gap between the two of them, then shifts all his books over. Surprisingly, Johnny stops at that, but by then, Evan can feel Johnny’s leg touching his whenever Johnny shifts in his chair, which is quite often.

Evan doesn’t know what Johnny is trying to do. Okay, well he knows that Johnny is trying to irritate the shit out of him, that part is obvious. He even tries to drop hints at Jake that he needs his friend back as his desk partner. Jake just grins at him, which in turn, has his entire group of friends all smiling at him sweetly when the next time they see him. (Andrea looked like she was about to pinch his cheeks, but then she couldn’t reach him from her height.)

When the next class rolls by, Evan gets to class early and hopes to find another person to sit with. He catches Carmen without a partner for the class so he happily offers to sit beside her for the class.

Johnny spends the entire class sending daggers at him. Evan really doesn’t care what Johnny thinks because he’s actually hearing everything Mr. Post is saying and writing down good notes for the upcoming midterm exam.

*

“Evan,” Johnny says after he pulls Evan aside in the hallway. Evan looks to his left and his right to well, okay, he doesn’t know why he just did that.

“Hey,” Evan replies lamely.

“So there’s this midterm coming up and I still don’t get half the things Postal talks about in class. You seem to know what you’re doing, so can you help me with it?”

Evan swallows audibly. “Um,” he tries, thinking of a way to get out of it. “I guess?”

“Great!” Johnny beams, standing up straighter now. “Are you free after school today? I want to get started right away since it’ll probably take me a few tries just to get through one chapter. I’ll see you in front of school after classes, okay?”

“Okay,” Evan says meekly, kind of confused and not sure what he just got himself into. “I’ll see you after school then.”

“Great!” Johnny laughs, gives him a wave goodbye then happily walks away from Evan, leaving him standing there like an idiot. And yet that thought describe this situation with perfect precision.

Evan kept his mouth shut for the rest of the day. Jake and Ellen both gave him looks during their shared classes, then at lunch, and finally before the final bell rung for the day. Evan even went to the washroom to make sure he didn’t have “JOHNNY WEIR AND I ARE GOING TO HAVE A STUDY SESSION AT HIS HOUSE AFTER SCHOOL” on his forehead, not that it’d fit because his forehead wasn’t that big. But he tried to pat his hair down so there was less forehead showing.

Obviously.

Johnny found him in front of the school, standing out like a beanpole amongst his school mates.

Johnny, sneaking up from behind, surprised Evan by smacking him on his back. “Hey Big Friendly Giant. Ready to go?”

They walked in sync to each other even though Evan had no idea where Johnny’s house was. But he had heard of all the nicknames since his growth spurt, no thanks to his sisters. “Is Big Friendly Giant the best you can come up with? And I’m not that tall compared to you.”

“Well, I do have a list here,” Johnny pulled out one of his notebook that he was holding and flipped to a page filled with words. “Beanpole. How’s the weather up there? Skyscraper. Do you play basketball?”

“You must have spent a lot of time for it,” Evan said sarcastically.

“I could have had more if Bates would stop with the Shakespeare for a second. I get it, it’s tragic and they all die. Wait, I have a few more. Jolly Green Giant. Big Red, but then your hair isn’t red. But that can be fixed easily if I can get my hands on a bottle of hair dye.”

Subconsciously, Evan’s hand went up to touch his hair. “I don’t think I’ll look good with red. It’ll clash with my skin colour.”

“Yeah, your natural tan,” Johnny said with a laugh. “C’mon, it’s just a little further up ahead.”

They arrived at Johnny’s house rather quickly. Johnny motioned him to follow him upstairs. It seemed like the house was empty. Oh. Evan wanted to ask where everyone was but it would be kind of rude? He kept his mouth shut.

“Well, here’s my room.” Johnny dropped his bag next to his bed then pulled out his books. Evan mirrored his action because that was what they came here to do, right? Studying for the test.

Evan settled comfortably on the floor before taking in Johnny’s room. Everything was so... clean and tidy. Johnny already had his textbook and notebook opened, so Evan got back onto topic. “So, what parts don’t you get?”

“Uh, well, what do you think will be on the test for sure? As long as I understand some of it, I think I’ll do fine. I don’t even know why I’m in Physics in the first place. Biology I can do, but Physics is such a waste of time, no offense if you like it or anything.”

“None taken?” Evan replied cautiously. “Let’s start from the beginning and tell me what you know.”

As Johnny looked over his notes and made off-handed comments about the atoms and whatever, Evan wasn’t really listening. He was staring at the way Johnny’s hair curled in perfect loops and the way Johnny’s hand would absent-mindedly stuck the loose strand behind his ear. His eyes then wandered to Johnny’s lips and the way his mouth moved when he talked and back up to Johnny’s eyebrows when he scrunched up his face in frustration as he tried to understand the individual Bohr models from a few weeks back, and then more examples of Bohr models interacting with each other from this week’s class.

Evan tried his best explaining the concepts to Johnny in a way that he understood it from Mr. Postal. But Johnny was so into reading his own notes and comparing it to the textbook that he was just talking to himself and ignoring his study-buddy altogether.

So by then, he was full-blown staring at Johnny and the way his eyelashes curled and he wasn’t even aware that he was leaning in and that his notebook was casually placed to hide his erection.

“This has been a very productive study session,” Johnny said in between his own blabbering of his messy Physics notes, his eyes still downcast to his notebook.

Evan really wasn’t listening to Johnny telling him things he already knew, so he reverted back to his stoic stance and just bobbed his head in agreement.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Johnny asked crossly, but his tone was clearly teasing because he was on his knees and crawling towards Evan. Evan’s face was merely inches from Johnny; he could count number of eyelashes on Johnny’s eyes if he really concentrated. But he wasn’t here to count eyelashes, or teach Johnny physics, so he grabbed Johnny’s shirt and pulled Johnny into a kiss.

It was awkward at first, Evan tried to impress Johnny too much before Johnny took over and shoved Evan back until his back hit the wall. Now it was less teeth and more tongue and it was hotter than anything Evan had experienced before. His other hand placed behind Johnny’s neck pushed them closer together.

For Johnny, that wasn’t close enough as he pushed Evan down onto the carpet and pressed himself against Evan’s body. His hips were doing unspeakable things to Evan’s cock as it strained against his black jeans. Evan couldn’t keep track of what was what as Johnny took a definite interest in his mouth but definitely wasn’t giving a half-assed effort at the other end either.

Johnny managed to get a hand free and easily popped Evan’s button and pulled down his zipper. His hand easily found Evan’s...

(Evan jolts awake from his slumber and finds his hand curled around his hard cock, pre-come already leaking. He looks around in this unfamiliar and remembers that he is in a hotel room in Korea. The sunlight slowly creeps into his room, so he kicks off his cover and heads to the bathroom for a shower and more importantly, jerking off because his mind has to remind him he hasn’t had sex in a while with his skating tours and practices and PR-events.

He rests his head against the tile with his left hand on his cock while hot water came down from above. He struggles to ignore the way the dream affected him as he tugged at his cock faster and pretends that he didn’t just dream about who he thought he did, but the green eyes and that sultry smile weren’t something even he could dream up with his imagination.)

5.

It was Friday night. Friday night met going out and meeting people. Evan did not subscribe to that idea. His idea of a good Friday night was staying at home with a beer in his hand and watching the game. Or, if a game’s not on (though it’d be a tragedy because he was a fan of whatever Chicago teams that played), then a movie would suffice. And if he lucked out, he would be in a seat at the stadium watching it live and with a beer in hand.

Instead, James insisted on dragging him out to a pub on Friday night. (“I’m sure they have your glorious HD TV with plenty of beer. The first one’s on me.”)

Evan heard a honk from outside and looked down to find a cab waiting for him. He fixed his hair one last time, making sure it was styled correctly, before heading out and locking the door behind him.

“Are you looking good?” James said, trying to keep his chuckles down. “I especially like your gray shirt and black jeans. It’s very... you.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Evan had known James long enough to know his friend was merely joking. And it wasn’t the first time any of them had mentioned his clothing choices.

The drive to the pub James picked out wasn’t far – not even a fifteen minute drive before the cab dropped them off. Evan followed James into the pub. Suddenly the noise enveloped him, as the chatters, the music, and the noise from the TVs all fought to be overheard.

James waved at the crowd at an occupied table while Evan’s eyes headed for the TVs. (The Bulls were playing tonight at United Center.) It seemed like they were the last to arrive as everyone shuffled closer together to make room for them.

Evan knew three of the four people at the table, or five if he included James as part of the table. So he waited for James for the introduction of the stranger, whose hairstyle looked more than interesting to say the least.

“Evan, you know my wife Bridget, and of course Brian and Joannie from school,” James laughed when everyone at the table rolled their eyes collectively. “And this is Johnny, Bridget’s co-worker, who’s also a teacher.”

Evan turned to Johnny, who sat at the other end of the booth. “Oh, what do you teach?”

“Kindergarten. It’s more like daycare than teaching,” Johnny laughed airily. “I’d call it a good day if I ended up without some sort of mess on me at the end of the day.”

Evan nodded. That was a reason why he stuck with the older kids.

“So drinks anyone?” James asked after seeing the lack of alcohol at the table. He tried waving down any waitresses that passed by, but of course they all passed by with trays of food and alcohol.

Johnny managed to catch the eye of a waitress and flashed a smile at her. She winked back at him, settled the food at the next table and came back with a pen and pad ready.

“Two pitchers and can we get the menu? I’m starving,” Johnny told the waitress.

“Of course,” the waitress nearly giggled before heading towards the bar. She came back almost immediately with a pitcher in each hand, and made another trip with 6 glasses and menus in toll.

Johnny helped her take the glasses off the tray, “Thank you, darling.” It earned him another smile from the waitress (Stacy, from the nametag). Evan was slightly jealous at the way Johnny interacted with the waitress – with such ease and charm that he never had with strangers.

“We should have you with us all the time,” Brian laughed, taking the pitcher and filling up the glasses with beer. The table murmured in agreement as everyone heartily took a glass full of beer.

“Cheers,” Brian raised his glasses and everyone followed suit.

Evan took a healthy gulp then snatched a menu from the pile. “I think I’m gonna get a burger and fries.” He looks up and sees everyone except from Johnny (who was looking at the menu with great interest) smiling in a way that Evan wasn’t sure he liked.

*

“I think they’re trying to set us up,” Johnny quipped with a killer smile on his face, like this didn’t faze him at all.

Evan hadn’t really thought about it. He took the offer to drink at a pub with a co-worker on a Friday night at face value. Because if James were to set him up, the guy would have told him to wear something nicer than a gray shirt and black jeans. “I haven’t really thought about it like that.”

“Well you should, they’re all sneaky bastards, but I love Bridget either way.”

“Have you known her for long?”

“She’s been working at my school ever since I started out there, so I guess it’s been awhile. Okay, so it’s been only two years, but who’s counting?” He laughed again.

Evan nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Johnny headed for the jukebox after they polished off their meals. James and Bridget insisted that Evan tagged along to give his musical advice, even though Evan’s music would never overlap with Johnny’s.

But when Evan looked back at his booth, all his friends were half-leaning forward to get a better view of them at the jukebox. “I think you’re right,” he said, after catching them staring and seeing them doing a poor job at pretending they weren’t.

“I don’t mind. It’s been awhile since I’ve dated. Plus you’re not that bad.”

“Thanks,” Evan mutters, not sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult.

“Ah, ha, found you!” Johnny put in a few quarters and keyed in his choices. “Too bad you can’t hear the awesomeness of the songs over all this noise.”

“The game’s almost over. They’ll probably mute the TVs after.”

“Hmm, thanks for telling me that after I put in my money.”

Evan was about head back to their booth when Johnny reined him back in. “They’ll probably find some other way to leave us alone,” Johnny explained, then took a step closer. “Let them wonder what we’re talking about.”

Johnny dropped his hand from Evan’s arm. “So tell me, you’re a teacher, right? What do you teach? No wait, let me guess. I like guessing. Hmm, you don’t look like the Fine Arts type,” Johnny laughed. “Math? Science? Or PE? No, don’t tell me yet. I’d peg you for a Science teacher. Tell me that I’m right.”

(“You two, by the way, are adorable,” Bridget said, as she passed by the two of them and headed for the washroom.)

Stunned speechless, Evan could only bob his head before getting control back of his tongue. Was he that obvious? James laughed at him the first time Evan introduced himself and told him what he was teaching. “Physics, so I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Wait, don’t move.” Johnny pulled out his phone from his pocket and flipped it around. “Hold still,” he said and fitted himself against Evan before taking a picture. “There, now I have proof that I have been going on date. Lemme send this to Patti first.”

Okay, Evan thought, he didn’t really not like the feeling of Johnny against him, even if he really wanted to yank that hairband thing off Johnny’s head because it looked quite ridiculous.

“Who’s Patti?”

“My mom,” Johnny replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He continued typing on his Blackberry without sparing a glance at Evan.

“You call your mom by her name?”

“She’s awesome, so why not call her by her name? She’s like, my BFF.”

“Huh,” Evan replied, watching Bridget eyed them with the look of pure amusement on her face, now heading back to the booth. Evan could really use another beer right now.

*

By midnight, the six of them slowed down in drinking and talking. Evan could tell he was buzzed, if not a lot of tipsy, considering he was leaning against Johnny as they all filed out of the pub.

Of course, those who weren’t named Evan or Johnny filed into a cab right away, citing that Evan should taken Johnny home, and either way, the cab was full.

Even Evan could not fight that logic, considering they weren’t lying about the cab before full, so he let Johnny lead him towards whatever direction they were supposed to go because Evan was actually drunker than he thought and he still really liked the feeling of Johnny against him, especially with Johnny’s arms wrapped around his waist.

They managed to get back to Johnny’s apartment in one piece, with the walk to his place only a short distance from the pub. Evan didn’t even have to say anything as Johnny just pulled him into the building – not that he was sober enough to argue.

There was a lot of making out once they got into the elevator and they lucked out on it being late enough that no one was to crash their party. Evan was already unbuttoning his shirt as they stumbled out of the elevator. Johnny took advantage of this situation, steadying himself against Evan before swiping his tongue across Evan’s abs. His hands quickly unbuckled Evan’s belt and then his jeans.

“Oh, I like,” Johnny grinned after seeing Evan’s lightning bolt tattoo on his hip and licked that too.

Evan was sober enough (despite a long line of ohmygods going through his head) that he really didn’t want Johnny to blow him in the middle of a hallway, even though it was late but anyone could leave their apartment or elevator to find Johnny’s mouth wrapped nicely around his cock. He pulled Johnny up from the floor. “Keys. Inside.”

Johnny, too, sobered up to get them inside quickly. He shucked his clothes off in lightning speed and Evan took that as a sign that he should do so too. He followed Johnny into the bedroom and kicked the door close behind him. He licked his lips, liking what he saw from the other man as Johnny posed with that cheshire smile permanently tattooed on his face.

Evan closed the gap between himself and Johnny, his hands shaking against his sides. He hesitantly lifted his left hand, cupping Johnny’s face and leaning into kiss him. It was a change of pace from the franticness, even if his heart was pounding against his chest and his cock was yearning to be touched. But right there and then, Evan found Johnny to be gorgeous and breathtaking. It might have been the alcohol-induced hazy, or he was really that gorgeous. It was a quick moment, then it was gone. Johnny’s hands already on his ass and moaning into the kiss.

Fuck, it was hot the way Johnny lazily nibbled on Evan’s lips, then licked his way around in Evan’s mouth. Every time Evan tried to take control, Johnny smacked his ass. The anticipation burnt a hole in his stomach; his imagination running wilder than the lazy pace Johnny was setting for them.

Suddenly, Johnny turned him around and pushed him onto the bed. He dug around for a condom and lube and climbed onto the bed in cat-like speed. Evan wasn’t sure how long he could hold on as Johnny’s lubed finger traced his hole, but lazy as fuck again. Evan whined against the pillow and lifted his hip up, hoping that Johnny would hurry the fuck up.

Johnny probably pitied him as he slid one finger in, then soon two, working him quickly now. Evan was so out of it that he didn’t even notice his hands were yanking the covers out, so Johnny slapped his hands away and took his fingers out. “You’re messing up my bed.”

“C’mon, Johnny, c’mon,” Evan groaned in displeasure. It was entirely unreasonable since Evan was leaking against the sheets with his cock trapped between his stomach and the bed. Fucking hell. But he knew better than to voice his opinion and kept it to himself.

Johnny seemed to be satisfied and forgave Evan as he tore open the packet and rolled on the condom. Evan hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply when Johnny entered him and eased in slowly until Evan was ready and buckled his hips. Johnny took that as a green light. He rolled his hips, gripping onto Evan’s hips.

Evan gasped when Johnny found the spot and fuck Johnny knew what he was doing and angled himself to hit it every time he pounded against Evan and muttering these filthy things that shouldn’t be coming out of a teacher’s mouth.

It had been awhile for Evan as he came without even touching himself. The friction and Johnny were enough to get him over the edge. Johnny followed closely behind, now laying flat against Evan and breathing heavily against his back.

“That was,” Evan mumbled against the pillow; he was loss for words. Johnny was really, really good. Johnny gingerly got off Evan, headed to the bathroom and came back with a towel for Evan, who gladly accepted it and cleaned himself up.

“You can stay,” Johnny smiled, then climbed into bed next to Evan. Evan draped an arm over Johnny’s waist and pulled him in. He couldn’t help it if he was a little romantic. When he finally drifted off to sleep, he knew he wanted to see more of Johnny in the future.

(It has to be a sign. Evan reaches to his nightstand and picks up his phone. There is no way he can be dreaming of Johnny all the time when he hasn’t seen Johnny for months. Even if Johnny doesn’t answer, at least Evan tried, right?

“Hey,” Evan says quietly into the phone.)

[FIC] (Baseball) You Have Your Roles and I Have Mine

2010-06-10T20:42:39Z

Title: You Have Your Roles and I Have Mine
Rating: R, for language and infidelity
Pairing/Characters: Alex Rodriguez/Derek Jeter (NYY)
Summary: An off day isn’t a travel day when you don’t go anywhere. Rather, it's a second chance, maybe.
Word Count: ~2,900
Disclaimer: Nothing here is true because it's all in my head.
Notes: A big thanks to sheep_mambo for looking over this. All other mistakes are mine. This is what I do waiting for my team to play when it's a travel day/day off. And who thought I'd write them again, not me at least.
Notes 2: This is for prompt 065. Passing, part of fanfic100 and the table is here.

It has been a long time since Derek wakes up feeling as awful as this. His body feels sore and his muscles ache; he’s tired and irritated. When he tries to move, it hurts like he’s been ran over by an incoming train. When he looks over to the other side of the bed, his mind flashes back to last night and, yeah, no wonder he feels like shit.

He slides off the bed gingerly and takes his time making his way to the bathroom. One look at the mirror confirms that not only does he feel like shit, he looks like shit too. His eyes are bloodshot red. There are mysterious bruises all over his body and bite marks and scratches to boot. He thinks grimly about the condition of his bedmate.

Derek turns on the tap and splashes cold water on his face. He leans in against the sink and stares closely as his reflection; he definitely has seen better days. He brushes his teeth and rubs his face down as well, trying to make the least amount of noise as possible. He eventually finishes and walks back to his closet, where he throws on the first pair of jeans and t-shirt he can find.

He leaves his penthouse with a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes from the general public. It’s not so much fear of recognition - he’s used this already. But he looks too beat up and definitely off to be in any mood for conversation with his fans. He orders a cup of coffee from the nearest Starbucks and finds a seat in the corner of the store. He knows from experience that he can get away from the crowds from here.

It’s stupid, really. He never meant it go this far. There had been times where he thinks that they are finally going to cross the line that must never be crossed but one of them always pulls back last minute and they remain friends, best friends, rivals, or whatever they are supposed to be at that moment.

But shit, last night something happened that fucked everything up and now he’s going to pay dearly. It doesn’t help the fact that he left his own place without a word. But Derek is sure he would be forgiven eventually.

*

Derek is not relieved to be back at the ballpark. This is supposed to be his escape, his sanctuary from people and the world. Well, it was, under yesterday and the night before.

When Derek got home, he was gone already. The bed still unmade but any evidence of anything that happened was gone.

It is better this way, considering Derek can’t even meet his eyes in the clubhouse.

He gives his usual 100% on the field. Every at-bat, he runs hard to first. Every ball that comes his way, whether by way of groundouts or line drives or even double-plays coming from his right, he fields those with perfect precision.

They lose the first game of the series. It’s no big deal; they’ll come back tomorrow and try again. And he’s out of there the moment the reporters leave him alone. He can shower once he’s back in his house.

Derek hasn’t spoken one word to him the entire day. There’s a reason why they never crossed the line. They had their own reasons - the labels, the roles, bad timing, stupid fights, and the list goes on and on. Almost two decades of history, there is bound to be a reason worthy enough to pretend there is nothing going on between them.

(Derek remembers him eagerly listening to Derek’s draft stories and the life of a pro-ball player. Derek remembers wanting to, so much, but then Derek promised his momma that Derek would always watch out for him. Derek took that promise to heart and yeah of course he wasn’t going to incur the wrath of someone who raised three kids by herself.

They were friends, getting to be better friends every time they talked over the phone or when he came flew and stayed in Derek’s parents’ house. Everyday, they were getting better at maneuvering around each other. Derek could tell, even back then, that they were going to be the best of friends.)

They win the second game. It ends up being a slugfest. Even the Jays bullpen can’t stop the bleeding. But it’s one game. Tomorrow they won’t be as lucky. But today he is, going 3-for-4, and beating out the play for a hard-earned single. And neither of them dares to make eye contact with each other. Derek can see Jorge looking at him with worry, so Derek shrugs and send him an easy grin. He takes off again when his part in the media is done, waits for all of them to be gone before taking off his jersey and pants, and he’s never been thankful for those athletic undershirts that he wears because the bruises/bite marks/scratches are still there, reminding him of what happened.

(Derek remembers all the laughs they shared when he was sitting in the tiny apartment in Seattle and watching SportsCenter in the tiny 21” TV screen. He was barely 21, but just enough to get a six-pack from the store. The cashier barely looked at his ID before ringing up the beer. So each of them ended up polishing off the cans by the time the night was over. Derek remembers him leaning on his shoulder and yeah fuck, they were close and he could have easily done something. But Derek was in New York and he was in Seattle and Derek didn’t want to start something that he could not finish. Didn’t want the taste of him in his mouth and not see him for weeks before having his mouth on his again.

So Derek ushered him into his room while he slept on the floor. At least he got Derek an air mattress, ‘cause it’d be lame if Derek woke up with aches from his back and ruined his game.

So they were best friends by then. Neither of them wanted to ruin that.)

Last game of the series and fuck him if they don’t win this game. It’s Top 14th, bases loaded with one out. He watches Park toss a fastball, but doesn’t get it far enough off the plate and fuck, they all watch it sail out the park. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath and grits his teeth. Some guy, gets the last three outs of the ball game in quick session and they lose the game and the series.

After the game, the clubhouse is silent except for the noise from the guys shuffling around. Even the media guys are hush-hush, getting their interviews in a hurry and getting out before the silence swallows them alive.

Robbie pulls him aside and asks with worry. “Are you okay?”

Derek laughs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Did you know that you’ve probably only said less than twenty words in the past three days? Even though none of us wanted to say anything to you, it’s scaring us. If you need anything, man, you know where to find me.”

The second baseman squeezes Derek shoulder and spares him another glance before taking off. Suddenly Derek feels all eyes in the room are on him, except for that one pair of eyes that still haunts him.

(So Derek ended up breaking the news that he’s dating Mariah and uh, well, he ended up not talking to Derek for an entire day before putting the best smile he could afford and the two of them were okay again by night time.

Derek’s faithful. Derek had his chance with him and he was too chicken shit to do anything for all the reasons that he tells himself every time he saw him. So Derek hugged him tighter when it was time for him to leave for Miami again. Because that was the only thing Derek could do.

Derek tried to be faithful. And he had his faith. Neither of them would do anything to ruin that.)

It’s been a week and suddenly Derek realizes it’s like the period two or three years ago when neither of them really spoke to each other and only done so when it was necessary. It scared the shit of the clubhouse and they all breathed a sigh of relief when the two reconciled. Not to mention it leaked to the media that they apparently weren’t friends anymore. So it made everything that much worst.

But really it’s not like it’s entirely his fault. Just because Derek hasn’t approached him but neither has he. So really, it’s either no one’s fault or it’s both of their faults.

(He introduced his girlfriend to Derek and before Derek knew it, she hugged him instead of shaking his hand. He looked happy, really happy, so yeah, Derek was happy too because if Derek couldn’t be the one to make him happy, then someone must take the job.

So now Derek was taken, or slightly-taken depending who asked and he was really in love with his girlfriend. And if a feeling of regret crept up on Derek, he forced it back into the abyss.)

At the end of the week, the bruises finally are fading and the scratches on his back are nothing but invisible lines on skin. Neither of them is talking to each other still. It’s like they’re talking to everyone but to each other. When Derek looks up, he can see him talking to Mark at his stall and they’re suddenly laughing. Jorge looks at Derek again; the frowning deepens on Jorge’s face, but Derek again shrugs and smiles. This really doesn’t bother him all that much.

(When he called to announce his engagement, Derek didn’t doubt for a second that he was the fourth person after his mother and his siblings that got the call. Derek wondered if it was the summer heat in Texas that made people do stupid things. But it really could have just been the lights in Manhattan that made him not do stupid things. So really, no one was keeping scores. So Derek opened up his best bottle of scotch and drank it by himself in his apartment. To celebrate, right?

Derek was still semi-taken if anyone asked. And he was getting married. Derek knew he was going to be a bachelor for the rest of his life.)

It is in Toronto when something between them finally happens. Of all places, and of all the teams they play against, it is Toronto. It makes sense, Derek guesses, because it happened and right afterwards they played against the Blue Jays. So it makes sense that something will happen again when they play in Toronto. And fuck, they’re in Canada, so really it doesn’t count.

(It doesn’t count that Derek kissed him in Toronto when he was still married to her. It doesn’t count if Derek stayed the night in his room in Toronto. It doesn’t count if they almost crossed the line in Derek’s room in Toronto. They’re in Canada, so really, it doesn’t count.)

Derek opens the door to find Mark on the other side of the door.

“Hey, can you come to my room for a second? There’s this weird bug in my room and I can’t get rid of it.”

(Derek remembers being at his wedding and watching him at the altar waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. Derek’s date is beside him, smiling and probably ready to cry. She reached out to hold his hand, and Derek was relieved to have someone solid next to him, even if it was the wrong person.

So he was a husband and Derek was still taken. When Derek closed his eyes and went to sleep that night, Derek could see his intense green eyes staring at Derek from the altar. Derek knew what he wanted to convey but really, it was all too late.)

Derek should have known it was a trap. But he’s the captain so whatever, he does his best to help a teammate in need. Derek’s suspicion is confirmed when he finds himself face to face with him and “uh, hi,” he says, sitting on the bed. Derek wonders if this is really Tex’s room at all. If Derek leaves now, they can still pretend something/anything/yeah that never happened, but it did, or maybe it didn’t because he doesn’t the bruises to show it anymore, but Derek can still taste his tongue in his mouth and really, there’s nothing stopping either of them now.

(Derek remembers the moment he placed Natasha in Derek’s arms and holy shit, there’s a baby in Derek’s arms. Derek, holding Natasha, looked at him and his wife and they’re amazingly perfect together and that feeling of regret never came back because at that moment, he knew everything was perfect for the two.

So yeah, he’s the husband and the dad and the rival all rolled into one. Derek couldn’t even see friends (or was it best friends, he can’t keep track anymore) in him anymore. But the next day they were best friends again because the two of them were on his porch sitting on lawn chairs with drinking beer out of the bottle. Suddenly Derek couldn’t see the husband and the dad in him. It was like they were kids again in Seattle and in that tiny apartment with one barely old and the other not old enough drinking beer. But when Natasha cried inside the house, that moment was gone and broken and shattered. And if anyone asked, Derek was still semi-taken.)

“So,” Derek says, breaking the silence after standing there for at least five minutes and looking anywhere other than the person sitting on the bed. He remembers vividly of the night they crossed the line in Derek’s penthouse. It was a lie to say that he didn’t remember anything at all, even if there was no proof on his body to say so.

Derek walks over to the bed and bends down to kiss the man on the mouth. “Alex,” Derek finally says, in between gasps and kisses and Alex pulls him down with him. It is the first time he’s said or even thought about Alex’s name in weeks since that time. Instead he was the acquaintance, friend, best friend, frienemy, rival, not-good-enough-for-best-man, husband, father, almost-god-father, teammate, stranger, and whatever other labels and roles Derek could think of for Alex.

(Then one day out of the blue, or by then everyone was waiting for it, he and his wife announced that they were getting a divorce. Derek swore that his wife hated him because apparently it was Derek’s fault that he had turned into someone she didn’t recognize anymore. And Derek didn’t say anything after she slapped him across his face because in a way, it was true. Or maybe she never knew him well enough at all in the times they had been together. The regret was creeping back up but this time Derek was slightly happy and sad for the failing marriage because Derek had thought he and her were going to last forever with their amazing kids and be the family that Derek would never have.

But then happy because now he was only father and teammate and they were getting better at the friends thing again. And they were working towards the same goal and no longer fighting for the same thing on different teams.)

Derek forgets that he’s actually really taken, and not even semi-taken or ‘I’ll pretend that I’m taken for the gossip magazines’, and this is Toronto and Canada and whatever happens here will stay here, he tells himself that as he kicks his shoes off and climbs on top of Alex, kissing him again and again because he’s been waiting for this for almost two decades and he’s finally going to get his reward for being the most patient man in the world.

(Derek breaks up with her when he gets back to New York. He gets a second chance at this and this time this second chance is even better than the first chance because Alex isn’t all the way across the country and he’s less scared, or maybe even more scared of Alex’s mom but at least he’s no longer the first person to break Alex’s heart like that so he won’t be the first name on her shit list. And this time he’s going to make it right, making sure that this will last, taking whatever amount of money they offer and probably much less than he deserves so he can stay in New York forever and ever because Manhattan’s lights never let him do stupid things but this time it’s not that stupid, or at least it isn’t in his mind.

So now really, they are just friends, best friends, teammates and well, you know how the last one will go, as Alex rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, the two of them watching SportsCenter on a 52” HD flat screen TV in Alex’s apartment and this time Derek doesn’t have to sleep on an air mattress placed next to Alex’s bed.)

[FIC] (Figure Skating) Johnny (Part 1)

2010-06-09T23:27:41Z

Title: Johnny (Part 1)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~5000
Pairing/Characters: Evan Lysacek and Johnny Weir (Figure Skating)
Summary: Evan is a Time Lord and the TARDIS chose Johnny as his next companion. We'll see how that goes.
Disclaimer: All characters and names belong to their rightful owners. The following is untrue and I am not profiting from this.
Notes: A big (huge) thank you to kuteki for betaing this and giving me suggestions to improve on this. And that I am not crazy for having this idea because she did too. All other mistakes are mine, along with all liberties I've taken from the Doctor Who series. (You don't really need to know about Doctor Who to read this.)
Notes 2: This is written for skategreat's Cliche Challenge #18 (freestyle crossover) with a side of #6 (time travel).

Evan is bored out of his mind. His stint on Dancing with the Stars was over, and his skating career is put on hold after the Stars on Ice tour also ended. So now he is sitting in his living room with a PS3 controller in his hand and the God of War III CD popped in and ready to go. (He beat Mass Effect 2 in a week since he had nothing else to do once he got home.) He feels so useless and wants to do something more than be a bum at home playing video games. He’s an Olympic champion, dammit.

The buzz from the intercom stops him from wallowing in his self-pity and breaking out the motivational mantras. He takes an extra second to get up because he is sure that he isn’t expecting anyone, and either way they would have called beforehand.

“Yeah?” He says into the intercom.

“There’s a package for Evan Lysacek that requires a signature.”

“Thanks, I’m coming down now.” He takes a few steps back and looks at his reflection from the full length mirror. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and his hair looks flat – not to mention he is only wearing a threadbare tee with black sweatpants. He stuffs his feet into his runners. Maybe not the best look to be outside his apartment but everyone’s used to his casual outfits already. It’s not like he’s going to scare anyone away looking like that.

Evan grabs his keys off the counter and heads down to the lobby. He greets the delivery man with a slight smile and signs off for the package. He eyes the package carefully. His name is clearly printed on the computer label. Yet there is no return address or name written anywhere. Maybe he should have asked about the lack of information before signing off. It could be from some crazy fan (though where would they get his address?) or has a bomb in it (okay, that sounds a little farfetched). The engine from the delivery truck roars and he watches it drives off. Too late.

Only when he gets back into the safety of his home does he examine the tiny box and even rattles it a little, forgetting that it might be breakable. Whoops. Either way, he’s ripping off the wrapping and he can barely contain his excitement to find out what’s inside.

His shoulder sags. Great, so underneath the wrapping is a plain white cardboard box.

There is a sense of thrill when he opens the box, hoping it was something cool or useful. Instead he feels a slightly annoyed at the box (and its sender) since the content inside is such a letdown. Inside said box is a fob watch.

Yes, a fob watch.

He picks it up; the metal is cold to his touch. The design on the watch looks highly intricate, something he’s never seen before. So why send it to him? It obviously isn’t his. He doesn’t remember his parents ever mentioning or owning a fob watch. And who still uses a fob watch? Or that he actually knows that it’s called a fob watch.

But he can’t keep his eyes off of it. His left hand is tracing the patterns on the watch; his mind is filling up with words he doesn’t understand but the voice is surely his.

His cell phone rings, startling him into almost dropping the fob watch. He gently places it down on the kitchen counter before he goes and answers the phone. He sees the caller ID – it’s Mom, so he can’t put off letting it ring and go to voice mail. By the time he answers the call, all thoughts of the mysterious gift vanish from his mind.

*

Only later that night does he remember leaving the watch on his kitchen counter. He picks it up again and tosses it a few times in the air, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He digs deep in his memory and fails to find any recollection of a fob watch. Yet, that familiar voice comes back, louder than ever, telling him of events and names of a past he’s never known.

Screw it, Evan tells himself, and presses down on the release gauge to pop the cover open.

Big mistake.

Golden rays of light emit from inside the watch, filling up the room and leaving no corners left untouched. No matter how bright and blinding the lights are, Evan can’t take his eyes off of the watch as if someone is forcing his eyes to stay open.

Oh.

Oh.

Apparently Evan Lysacek is a Time Lord (Time Lord?). He collapses to the floor as centuries of memories flooded his brain. There should have been a warning label somewhere on the box because he is definitely not ready for all of that. He clutches onto the fob watch for dear life, begging it to end.

Then the lights are gone, leaving the apartment only illuminated by the lamps again.

And well, Evan passes out after that. There really isn’t a choice in that matter.

*

When Evan wakes up again, the sky is bright and this time it is the sun that’s illuminating his apartment, making the lamps irrelevant. He feels different, to say the least. He pushes himself off the ground. He meets his eyes in the full length mirror, much like yesterday. Okay, well he feels really different now.

“Doctor,” he says to himself. Hm.

“Doctor,” he tries again, straining to hear something different coming out of his mouth. He really misses the accent. Doctah.

His last regeneration had him with a flop of hair, barely any eyebrows and pale as a ghost. It’s like they turned the dial of all his physical characteristics to the other side of the spectrum. Okay, so he’s still tall enough, but now his hair is dark, eyebrows prominent, skin a few shades too much (okay, he looks orangey?) and while he is lanky, he’s bulky enough so that he actually looks stronger and more authoritative. This is good. And not to mention he has a perfect set of teeth, he thinks, as he runs of his tongue over them and examines them in the mirror. (“Doctor,” he tries again.) He pushes aside his bangs. He will need to fix that soon.

This is a good start. He walks around, testing his legs and swinging them around while turning off the lamps. The apartment is cramped, so there isn’t much room for him to walk one way before turning around and tracing the same path again. He catches a glimpse of himself from the mirror again. He does look good considering all the possibilities he had imagined if this human body turned out to be a dirty hobo or a lazy and out of shape slob.

(But still no ginger.)

Now where’s his TARDIS?

It is a wonder how perception filters can affect humans because all this time his TARDIS key is around his neck and no one suspected a thing. Well, he doubts anybody on Earth knows what a TARDIS is, but still – an alien could have found him and taken it. But then they (and he) wouldn’t know the location of his time machine either way.

So that was a waste of time.

The Doctor remembers to grab his cell phone and his keys before leaving his home to find his other home. If he remembers correctly, he packed the blue box away in a safe place, but that was decades ago. America has grown so much since then. At least his pre-human-and-still-Time-Lord self knows where not to park the TARDIS.

He flags down a cab. “LAX please,” he tells the driver.

He manages to get a ticket (very last minute, in fact) that will take him across the country to D.C. It was the safest place to park the TARDIS, considering a century from now, D.C. will still be standing and won’t be plowed down and built up again, unlike some other major metropolises in America. He cringes at the memory of New Miami. They never should have gone down that path...

(“Mr. Lysacek?”

The Doctor stares at the lady behind the counter for a long while before he realizes that yes, his physical appearance is still Evan Lysacek, so he flashes his well-practiced media smile and purposely fumbles an apology before taking his boarding pass.)

And no, he does not miss the irony here. The only Time Lord left in the universe has to take an airplane and wait in the tiny recycled-air, horribly cramped seats with a kid kicking at the back of his seat, and a snoring old lady next to him trying to use his shoulder as pillows. But what can you do? It was the only seat available on such short notice.

Finally, the Doctor lands in D.C., and quickly makes his way out of the airport, bypassing the luggage area, and waits for another cab to take him to his TARDIS. Humans waste a lot of time with all these queues and travel businesses. And from the expressions on their face, they are sharing his frustrations too.

“Finally,” he exclaims loudly as he stands in front of his TARDIS. It’s parked right underneath a giant willow tree in the National Mall. At least he remembers to put the shield on so the wood doesn’t rot. He pats the exterior gently, remembering how the TARDIS feels at his touch.

The Doctor unclasps the chain from his neck, puts the key in the slot, and pushes the door open. “Daddy’s home.”

He walks inside and marvels at the architecture of his, well, spaceship-slash-time-machine. While it’s only been a little more than two decades in his human body, and for a Time Lord, it’s only a speck on that timeline, it really is nice to be home.

(Home. Gallifrey. Home. Dead. Gone.)

Immediately, he grabs onto the edge of the TARDIS control to steady himself. The smallest thing can trigger his memory as the events from his human life continue to rearrange and fit themselves in his mind.

Right. Now that he’s back. Time to head off and get out of Earth. He’s been here for too long and as much as he likes this planet, and his body yearns for the infinity of time and space.

“Where should we go?” His left hand flicks the little bell and his other hand holds onto the handle and spins the wheel. “How about Basaltic Empire AD 3152? I hear there’s excellent cake there. This body for sure needs a little indulgence.”

The TARDIS hums in agreement and the Doctor enjoys hearing the familiar sound of her engine running, a sign that she is ready to go travel with him again and will get him to where he wants to go.

Apparently where he wants to go and where he needs to go are two different things since well, the TARDIS takes a slight tumble in the landing then stops, and he steps out to find himself not in Basaltic Empire or in AD 3152. There’s a yellow cab driving off and honking at him, and well, there’s a newspaper box that’s indicating he’s in New Jersey?

He’s in New Jersey all right, he tells himself as he watches Johnny Weir disappear into his apartment building. He guesses that the TARDIS doesn’t want him to travel alone. But really, Johnny Weir? His human self has had enough of the skater in his lifetime. His Time Lord self now has to suffer through it too? He can already hear the snarky comments about anything and everything about Time and Space Travels coming out of Johnny’s mouth.

He turns in his spot and glares at the blue box. “Really?” He asks again even louder this time. “Really?”

“Fine,” he sighs in defeat when he knows there will be no answer given. He cannot afford to have the TARDIS angry at him (he’s learned his lesson there). This blue box has been with him since the beginning and if her wish is for him to travel with Johnny (even the Doctor has to laugh at that idea), then he will try his best to fulfill that wish. And the moment Johnny refuses his offer, he is going to be out of here.

He digs out his cell phone from his pocket and scrolls down his address book. At least Evan still has Johnny’s number. He hopes that this number still works, or that he hasn’t been blocked from it because that would really suck. After six rings, Johnny finally picks up.

“What do you want?”

“Can you stick your head out the window and look down?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Just do it, Johnny.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?”

“Johnny,” the Doctor says in his sternest tone. He does not have time for this. His body itches to leave this planet as soon as he can get Johnny into the TARDIS. He’s willing to kidnap him if he has to. Though most of his companions in his travels did go with him willingly...

“Fine,” Johnny huffs.

The Doctor cranes his head up and when he sees Johnny, he sends him a little wave with his spare hand. Even from a distance, he can see Johnny looking half-annoyed and half-angry.

“What is going on?”

“Come down for a second. It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“I don’t think so, Lysacek.”

“Just humor me, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

“Johnny, just do this for me, okay?” The Doctor asks again, gritting his teeth. It would have been much easier if the TARDIS landed him inside Johnny’s apartment. He then wonders if the ceiling is even tall enough to fit the time machine in. He can imagine Johnny’s apartment ceiling crumbling down from the sheer size of the TARDIS and he’s a hundred percent sure Johnny is going to freak out, bitch a lot, then refuse to listen to him until he leaves and vows to never return.

“Fine, but you have to promise me to never bother me again. And I mean it, as in delete-my-number-from-your-phone kind of ‘never bother me again’.”

“Yes, yes. And I’ll mean it too.”

The call dies and the Doctor puts his cellphone back into his pocket. He stops looking up because the sun is starting to get to him. Instead he leans against the TARDIS and waits.

A very angry looking Johnny Weir storms towards him, but keeps his distance and stops a few feet from him. “I’m here, what do you want now?”

The Doctor straightens up and puts his hands behind his back. “I’m here to make you an offer. I can give you the opportunity of a lifetime to experience something you’ve never felt before. I can take you anywhere, any time - you just name it.”

Johnny crosses his arms and frowns deeply. “Are you proposing me for sex?”

“No!” Okay, so this reincarnation isn’t very good with words that are not fed to him by others. He means well though. “What I mean is... let’s start over. Hello, I’m the Doctor and I’m a Time Lord. I’m here to invite you on an adventure of a lifetime. Here,” he steps aside to reveal the TARDIS. “is my, well, in human term, a time-machine-slash-spaceship.”

Johnny eyes him through the slits of his eyes, as if he’s only here to humor his rival. “If you’re the Doctor, then where’s Evan?”

“He was... me but human. It’s complicated. But I’m still him, in a way.”

Johnny stares at him for a bit and shakes his head. “No,” he states very clearly. “You’re Evan Lysacek.”

“I’m the Doctor.”

“No, you’re Evan Lysacek. Did you hit your head or something?”

“No, I’m the Doctor.”

“You’re not a doctor. You’re a figure skater.”

“No, I’m the Doctor.”

Johnny stops himself from probably repeating himself. He takes a deep breath and calmly asks. “Wait, so you’re not Evan anymore?”

The Doctor shakes his head.

Johnny ponders for another moment. “Why should I believe you?”

The Doctor makes a face and shrugs. “Because I have this giant blue box next to me?”

Johnny looks around, eyes searching for something but not finding what he’s looking for. “I’m still waiting for Ashton Kutcher.”

That name rings a bell in his head. Does Johnny mean the car or the guy from Punk’d? He tries the former and from the look on Johnny’s face, he knows he said the wrong thing.

Johnny looks like he’s ready to stomp his feet and turn back into his apartment.

“Wait, wait,” the Doctor calls out. “What have you got to lose?”

And he opens the TARDIS door and waits for his new companion to make a decision. Johnny stays at his spot but leans over to catch a peek at the opened door. “I don’t know about this. I kind of have a thing for tomorrow and well, thanks for the offer.”

“It’s a time machine, Johnny. She can bring you back here like you’ve never even left. Take it or leave it.”

Johnny laughs and shakes his head. “You can’t go without me, can you? What if I don’t say yes? Are you going to leave and go by yourself? You wouldn’t have come all the way here just to pick me up and leave without me in there.”

The Doctor squashes down his annoyance. He is this close to walking into the TARDIS and leaving Johnny here on Earth regretting his decision the moment the TARDIS sounds off and disappears in front of him. Even humans cannot deny something disappearing into the thin air just like that. “I’m sure I can find plenty of other people who wouldn’t mind travelling with me. You’re not the first companion that I’ve had.”

“I swear you’re still trying to get me to have sex with you. And this is some cheesy and over elaborate scheme you cooked up in your mind to get me into your bed.”

“So are you coming or not?”

Johnny looks behind him, then back at the Doctor and his TARDIS. He makes a beeline for the opened door. The Doctor trails before Johnny and waits for the usual it’s bigger on the inside comment; instead he gets “this place is so... tacky.”

He knows he is the Doctor but the Evan in him boils. “Hey, it’s not tacky. It’s futuristic!”

Johnny laughs. “If this is ‘futuristic’, then I don’t want to be apart of that future.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes instead of firing back. He settles down to station himself in front of the TARDIS control and grins at Johnny, but Johnny is no longer in front of him, or in the TARDIS either.

The Doctor curls his fists and stomps out the TARDIS. He spots Johnny walking around the TARDIS several times and knocking on the blue box with his knuckles. “This really isn’t a trick to get you into bed because I have zero intentions to sleep with you.”

Johnny looks at him in disbelieve, as if he’s actually starting to realize the Doctor is not joking about the time travel thing. “So what is this thing called?”

“Time and Relative Dimensions in Space,” the Doctor tells him with ease. “Or the TARDIS for short because ‘Time and Relative Dimensions in Space’ is quite a mouthful. Isn’t she glorious?”

Yet Johnny has that look on him that isn’t quite trusting. But still, he begrudgingly gets himself back inside the TARDIS and the Doctor immediately takes his place at the controls.

“So, Johnny Weir. Name a place, a time; wherever you want to go, whenever you want to be.”

“Where were you going to go before you came to pick me up?” Johnny asks, and leans against the railing with his head scanning his surroundings. This part is something the Doctor is familiar with.

“A little place called Basaltic Empire. Well, at least I was going to go to the capital city of the empire,” the Doctor replies. He fiddles with the control and presses the big blue button to get the engine going. “I’m surprised that you agreed to come along so... willingly. I expected you to put up more of a fight.” Though he didn’t know what else he could have done if Johnny didn’t walk into the TARDIS at that moment.

Johnny shrugs and examines his finger nails. “I want to see how far you take this until the jig is up and you let me out so I can go nap.”

Since he had already input the destination and time before this little detour, he relaxes and lets his time machine do all the work. “You’re not impressed with the inside of the TARDIS? Or that it’s bigger on the inside?”

“I am... but you know” Johnny replies hesitantly and stops. “Actually, I am glad there’s a reason for your weirdness, Evan. I mean, I didn’t expect you to be a,” he waves his hand around, gesturing for the correct term.

“A Time Lord.”

“Yes, yes, a Time Lord, but really, I’m surprised no one has seen through your façade until now. I guess you do have a reason to be stand-offish.” But not before you won the gold medal.

The two takes a slight tumble with the noise stopping and the TARDIS landing on a new planet. “Here we are,” the Doctor sticks his head in front of the meter. “May 15th, 3152 and on the dot.” He nods towards the door, go on.

Johnny puffs his chest and walks down the bridge with dignity but stops with his hand on the door. “You know, it’s been fun, but really, outside of this is going to be my apartment and-” His sentence dies off as he pushes the TARDIS door and sees that, well, he’s not in New Jersey anymore.

*

“TTW, also known as Tel-Ter-World, but that’s just a mouthful.”

Johnny looks at the man standing next to him. “You make it sound so exciting,” he says, dripping with sarcasm. The TARDIS parks herself at the side of some building, just hidden away from the sight line of any pedestrians. Johnny stands in the middle of the street and takes in the busyness of a future metropolis.

“It is exciting,” the Doctor scowls, adamantly defending his decision of coming here, but his voice isn’t translating his emotion well. “It’s the Golden Age of the Empire. They last for another two centuries before a civil war erupts and well, let’s just say it doesn’t bode well for either side.”

Johnny just makes a noise before turning his attention back to his surroundings.

“Are you not impressed?”

“Oh, I am,” Johnny smiles sweetly. “It’s just, I’m whisked away to some foreign place with a man I hate, but really, it’s not really him anymore, is it?”

“Do you miss him?”

Johnny manages to dodge the question thanks to a well-timed flying car going by. “I guess we’re not going to get that in our life time,” he says as his eyes eagerly follow the new invention before it disappears behind an even taller building.

“You’ll need to live another 300 years before the first prototype is developed.”

Johnny nods like he understands whatever’s coming out of the Doctor’s mouth. “Are you sure we can be here? And I don’t want to meet my first alien in this outfit.” His voice slight quivers and he is already taking a few steps back towards the TARDIS.

“Johnny, it’s only one adventure. One! And I’ll be here to protect you from those pesky aliens. And by the way, your outfit is fine. Perfect for your first adventure.” The Doctor can’t think of anything else to say to appease Johnny other than to assure him that he looks great. He hasn’t been on another planet for a long time. He needs this more than Johnny will ever know.

Johnny stands up a little straighter and puts his brave face on. “So, not-Evan, what are we doing here?”

One obstacle down, and probably a lot more to go. He has to make sure Johnny doesn’t start freaking out again and demand to be taken home immediately. His last handful of companions all experienced something “alien” before hopping onto The Doctor’s Tour of the Universe.

“Sight-seeing, of course. We’re travelers after all! Don’t you want to be in one of those flying cars? It’s neat.”

“It’s neat,” Johnny repeats in the same monotone with disinterest. “Wow, so very convincing of you, Doctor. You make the best tour guide, don’t you? But what the heck, I’m already here, dressed and ready to go. Lead the way already.”

The Doctor takes off in a hurry but finds himself slowing down his footsteps as he waits for Johnny. He gets that everything is new and shiny but he’s still slightly annoyed that Johnny is taking forever and stopping at every display on the street.

“They’re not very alien,” Johnny quips when the Doctor finally retraced his steps to find him. “They look just like us.”

The Doctor drags Johnny away from another clothing store. “Well, you humans do have a tendency to maintain the status quo while adapting to different landscape.”

“You mean, these people are still me?”

The Doctor keeps down a biting remark about how humans got to this point and time because Johnny doesn’t need that burden on him, and nods his head instead. The last thing he wants is for Johnny to run away in one of his little fits. He cannot afford to lose the human in this crowd; he’d never find Johnny in that case. “C’mon, we’re almost there. Just don’t say anything, okay? I know you’ll be tempted.”

The two travelers walk until they arrive at this twenty-plus-storied building with giant lighted advertisements across the outside wall of each level. The Doctor flashes his psychic paper at one of the security personnel at the entrance. This time they are from the officers from the Ministry of Transportation.

“You’re here early. We’re not due for inspection until next week.”

“Well,” The Doctor drawls, “if we always come on time, how would we catch you in the wrong?”

The slightly-tinted-towards-green woman turns to her partner. “Well...”

“I could always get my supervisor,” The Doctor reaches to his pocket. He hopes they take the bait because he doesn’t think Evan’s phone is going to suffice. He should have known to think of a higher ranked officer for this; he’s a bit rusty, okay?

The less-tinted man sighs and shakes his head. “Go ahead sirs.”

“What’s that?” Johnny snatches the badge out of The Doctor’s hand once they enter the elevator. “It’s blank,” he says after examining the blank piece of paper bounded by a leather cover a few times front and back and sideways and trying to look at it under a light.

“It’s psychic paper,” The Doctor nabs it back and tucks it back into the back pocket. He needs to get a jacket soon because it doesn’t feel right to put all these things into a pair of jeans. And jeans are not good for running and getting into mischief. The elevator dings in the next instant and he exits it without a second thought.

“And?”

“What?”

“What’s psychic paper?”

“It shows whatever you’re thinking. So you can be an officer of the law or a student, if you want to be. Hence psychic,” The Doctor replies as he peers into the windows of a sleek black, very sports-looking flying car. He spotted it the moment his stepped onto this floor. “This one will do,” he declares and reaches into his... non-existent jacket for his non-existent sonic screwdriver. Well, that puts a dent into their plans.

“Are we stealing a car? Jesus, Evan, I mean Doctor.”

The Doctor can feel Johnny’s presence directly behind him. His nose is almost touching the glass of the passenger’s door, trying to find another way to get into this car without getting the alarm system involved. “I promised you a flying car, so I’m going to get you one.”

“I’m sure they have all these high-tech security systems for their cars. It’s the future. What if they have those electric fences thingy protecting these cars? You cannot leave me stranded here while you get toasted because you’re being stupid.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. Why did the TARDIS ever pick him to be his next companion? He knows that he hasn’t had a male companion in a long time but of all people, Johnny Weir? His human form doesn’t really like him at all. He has a nagging feeling that maybe the TARDIS picked the wrong person through some errors in calculations. But then how often was the TARDIS wrong about anything? He then wonders if he can dump Johnny back on Earth after this or Johnny refuses to go anywhere else with him, which means he can go travel by himself for awhile until he gets lonely again and he picks his next companion.

The alarm system from the adjacent car goes off immediately when Johnny accidentally takes a step back and backs right into it. Before the Doctor or Johnny can move anywhere or say anything, two uniforms materialize in front of them. “Cuff them,” one of them says.

“Where is your psychic paper now?” Johnny grits his teeth as he struggles against the cuffs. Because their hands are bounded at the front and not the back, they would be out of these in no time if the Doctor had his sonic screwdriver with him. But he doesn’t; so they will have to play nice and see where this goes.

“Well, at least you get to ride in one now,” The Doctor grins, referring to them being escorted into security vehicle. “And! And there is none of those ‘electric fences’ that you talked about, which by the way, is a good idea. You are good at this.”

[100] Movies & [50] Books in 2010

2010-01-03T01:54:27Z

I might change this to a 2010 Scrapbook thing. I'm exhausted atm... so.

Movies (bold denotes new movie)

Two Weeks Notice (2002) January 01 [dvd] ★★★
What a way to ring in the new year by watching this AGAIN for the third time in 2009, but we finished in the new year so I'm tossing this over to this.
Star Trek (2009) January 02 [dvd] ★★★★1/2
Sleepover at cousins. It's much better a second time around AND with subtitles. Loved the extra features.
Hot Fuzz (200x) January 02 [dvd] ★★★★
Continued with this movie, the extra features are cool. The subtitles make it much better too.
Aladdin (199x) January 02 [vhs] ★★★1/2
The next day is old disney movie on video. I've only seen it once beforehand and that was years ago. We were surprised it had subtitles too! The movie was much shorter than I remembered and less distressing.
Up in the Air (2009) January 04 ★★★★
While I liked the movie a lot, I found it to be quite unsatisfying for some reason.
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatball (2009) January 08 ★★★★
Do not watch this on an empty stomach, I'm so hungry right now. The animation is adorable.
The Lion King (1994) January 09 ★★★★
LOVE. LOVE. LOVE. :)
The Sound of Music (1965) January 12 ★★★★
This is the first ever time I've seen the movie entirely, ikr. I knew most of the songs for some reason though, which tells you how influential this movie is.
It's Complicated (2009) January 13 ★★ 1/2
I wish the movie was shorter. It was 2 hours long! The kids didn't do much but I loved JKras in it.
The Little Mermaid (1989) January 13 ★★★
I thought it was time for me to re-watch old Disney movies, so I watched this one. The older I get, the worst this movie is to me... or if I can enjoy the movie if I pretend the movie isn't problematic at all.
An Education (2009) January 17 ★★★★1/2
It was absolutely brilliant and heartbreaking. I think halfway through the movie I knew what was going to happen but you just want to keep watching and hope for the best.
Sherlock Holmes (2009) January 19 ★★★1/2
I would love to see a sequel to it but overall it was ummmm. Definitely worth the watch but I think I might be sick of mystery/crime-solving shows.
The Invention of Lying (2009) January 23 ★★★
Very interesting concept and plot, but execution was definitely poor. Ricky Gervais is hilarious, but not enough to carry the film. I enjoyed seeing all the cameos and roles by stars.
Whip It (2009) January 29 ★★★★
The movie was very intense and exhilarating. I think it was Kristen Wiig's interview with Conan that she talked about the movie and they all did their own skating, which they ended up with major bruises and broken bones. That sealed the deal for me.
Shaun of the Dead (2004) January 30 ★★★1/2
Now that it's a second rewatch, it doesn't seem as good as I thought it would, compared to rewatchiing Hot Fuzz. It's definitely still a good watch.
The Hurt Locker (2008) February 07 ★★★★
A very intense movie. Dragged in bits. Also confusing in bits.
Persuasion (2007) February 07 ★★★1/2
Everything was good until the latter part of the movie. I love the tension between the two main characters.
Princess and the Frog (2009) February 08 ★★★
I very much enjoyed the music and the 2D animation, but it definitely dragged too much in the middle.
Northanger Abbey (2007) February 08 ★★1/2
I'm not sure if it was the plot/story, but I thought the entire thing was very silly.
Mansfield Park (2007) February 08 ★★1/2
Like the film above, I'm not sure if it's the plot, but the film was weird.
Pride & Prejudice (2007) February 08 ★★★★
A rewatch in the midst of an Austen binge of mediocre films, I had to watch something familiar and good.
Persuasion (2005) February 09 ★★★
After watching the newer version, I had to watch the older one to compare. The appearance (though probably more to the truth to Austen-era) were distracting. /random shallowness
Zoolander (2001) March 04 ★★★1/2
I watched this with the commentary on for the first time. It was still lulzy.
Forces of Nature (1999) March 08 ★★1/2
In order to celebrate the Sandra Bullock win, I had to watch a old movie of hers that I have not seen. Thus this. What is this I don't even. I enjoyed it???
Avatar (2009) ★★★ [theatre]
I'm glad I saw this in 3D because I saw glimpses of it later in 2D and the movie was so boring.
The Losers (2010) May 16 ★★★
Toy Story (1995) June 26 ★★★★★
Toy Story 2 (1999) June 26 ★★★★
Toy Story 3 (2010) June 26 ★★★★★ [theatre]
Despicable Me (2010) July 09 ★★★★1/2 [theatre]
When in Rome (2010) August 26 ★★1/2
Date Night (2010) August 27 ★★★★
Leap Year (2010) August 29 ★★
The Hangover (2009) September 1 ★★★1/2
Hot Tub Time Machine (2010) September 2 ★★★1/2
Pirates of the Caribbean 3 (2007) September 15 ★★★1/2
Becoming Jane (2007) September 19 ★★★
Letters to Juliet (2010) September 19 ★★1/2
SALT (2010) September 20 ★★★
Cementry Junction (2010) September 20 ★★★
The Social Network (2010) October 1 [theatre; opening day!] ★★★★1/2
Monsters Inc. (2001) October 24 ★★★★ [tv]
Nodame Cantabile: The Movie I (2009) October 25 ★★★★
How to Train Your Dragon (2010) October 29 ★★★★
The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) October 29 ★★★1/2
Wild Target (2010) October 30 ★★★
Inception (2010) October 31 ★★★★
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt. 1 November 19 [theatre; midnight screening!] ★★★★1/2
Easy A (2010) November 21 ★★★1/2
Never Let Me Go (2010) December 5 ★★★1/2
Going the Distance (2010) December 10 ★★★
Flipped (2010) December 13 ★★★1/2
Black Swan (2010) December 30 ★★★★

8 (96) movies for 100; 4 (48) movies for 50.

Books

Here be 2009 (58), 2008 (34) and 2007 (58) ★☆

Top 15 Albums of 2000s

2009-12-31T04:34:33Z

It wasn't my first intention to make one of these lists for music, considering I'm much more of a singles kind of person (which I might end up making of those lists too), thus this list is pretty short. The albums below consist of me listening to at least 50%+ of the music on the album, rather than liking the album because of the handful of singles. Also "top" and "best" in this case consist of what is good to me - it might not be the flashiest, the most creative, or most likely to be repetitive music, but like I said before, it's difficult and rare for me to actually listen to an entire album without switching to something else.

So pretty much, if I had to, I would forever listen to the following CDs. Also, I only picked one album per artist or else this list would be way longer. And there's no "Best of..." albums either, or else I would pretty much choose all of those instead :D I also didn't include any OSTs either (don't ask).

Oh yeah, fyi, I don't really have the best taste in the world, so loooooool, they're mainly Pop/mainstream stuff. And I'm finally posting this after composing it... oh 3 weeks ago.

	15. Clay Aiken - Measure of a Man (2003) This is my uber guilty pleasure album. And... I can sing along to all the songs :\| Favourites: I Will Carry You, Invisible (CROWD FAVOURITE), Run to Me
	14. 30 Seconds to Mars - A Beautiful Lie (2004) This is so random and out of place... Favourites: From Yesterday, A Beautiful Lie, The Kill
	13. Green Day - American Idiot (2005) Man, high school memory... or grade 12. I adore the entire album. Favourites: Give Me Novacaine, Wake Me Up When September Ends, Jesus of Suburbia
	12. Rise Against - The Sufferer and the Witness (2006) The first time I heard about them is at my first Billy Talent concert. Since then I've seen them twice. Favourites: Ready to Fall, Chamber the Cartridge, Prayer of the Refugee
	11. Muse - Absolution (2003) First time I've heard them is from one of my flist uploading Can't Take My Eyes Off of You. They came here once for V-Fest, but cancelled on me, blah. I'll see them in April 2010 though. Favourites: Hysteria, Sing for Absolution, Apocalyspe Please
	10. Mika - Life in Cartoon Motion (2007) Thank you Grace Kelly. Favourites: Love Today, Relax, Take it Easy, My Interpretation
	09. Dashboard Confessional - A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar (2003) Anyone remember D/G fans abuse these songs for their fics? Good times. Favourites: As Lovers Go, Ghost of a Good Thing, Rapid Hope Loss
	08. Travis - The Invisible Band (2001) Despite this album doesn't have my favourite song on it, this was so much better than 12 Memories. Favourites: Sing, Side
	07. Panic! at the Disco - A Fever You Can't Sweat Out (2005) I'm still surprised how much I liked this album... Favourites: The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage [wtf], Camisado, I Write Sins Not Tragedies
	06. Billy Talent - Billy Talent II (2006) At first I was going to pick the first album if you asked me maybe last year or so, but then I realized that my taste changed, especially after listening to BT III. Favourites: Fallen Leaves, Red Flag, This Suffering
	05. The Lonely Island - Incredibad (2009) What can I say? They are hilarious. Favourites: Boombox, Ras Trent, Like a Boss [+ I'm On a Boat & Jizz in my Pants]
	04. Backstreet Boys - Black & Blue (2000) Considering Millennium came out in 1999, the choice is pretty easy for this one. Favourites: Shape of My Heart, More than That, The Call [lol the 3 singles...]
	03. Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand (2004) I can't believe it was because of an iPod commercial. Favourites: The Dark of the Matinee, This Fire, Take Me Out
	02. Britney Spears - Circus (2008) Out of all her albums, I can't believe I chose this one. After looking at all the track lists, I realize I like this one the most in term of overall. Technically breaking 1000 plays if you also count the singles albums. [this is also a fan-made cover, which i use in place of the actual one] Favourites: Shattered Glass, Out from Under, If U Seek Amy, Amnesia (& where we pretend My Baby or w/e that crap is doesn't exist)
	01. Jason Mraz - Waiting for my Rocket to Come (2002) It's Mr A to Z. Duh. Favourites: You and I Both, Absolutely Zero, No Stopping Us

Honourable Mention (in no particular order)
Justin Timberlake - FutureSex/LoveSound
*NSYNC - No Strings Attached
Yellowcard - Ocean Avenue
Jon McLaughlin - Indiana
Arcade Fire - Funeral
Avril Lavigne - Let Go
Fall Out Boy - Infinity on High
OneRepublic - Waking Up
Lady GaGa - The Fame Monster
Phantom Planet - The Guest

Now that I finished, I realize a top songs would represent me better, which will end up in like top 50 songs or something, idk, but oh well. Time to move onto that!