#.FAMILY / wherever my rosemary goes...

[kaijurakunsobs]

Karl coming back to you and the baby after a successful REVOLUTION!! Cause he deserves happiness (and maybe ethans there because I want rosemary and lil maginito baby to be friends

I like how you think anon

this one is gonna be fun and LONG

Let's start by pretending Ethan wasn't just a human chia pet, but the mold made him mutate like the Lords, he has no powers but his body is just...sturdier

that being said...

after Miranda's announcement of finding the perfect vessel and presenting Rose to the Lords, you could tell Heisenberg was extremely close to start his rebellion in that moment, what stopped him? that your child is waiting for the return of their parents and you still have no way out of everything goes wrong

it feels grotesque to receive a piece of such an innocent baby in a flask

through the creep vine you both learn about Ethan being in the Village, the father of the stolen child, you can see the expression in Karl's face shift into one of hope, he knows something you don't

when Winters is brought to the church you both play your role of sadistic monsters, giving a "show" for Donna and Moreau, but you have made sure there are useful things "left behind" by previous participants of your little game

with bated breaths, you follow his progress, feeling more and more hope with each Lord he takes down

Heisenberg cheers loudly when Dimitrescu goes down, lifting you off the ground and howling harder when only Moreau remains

He knows that, Ethan won't take it well when he arrives at the factory, so you offer to be the one to welcome him, reminding Karl to keep his cool and be straight with his answers and go to the point

NO THREATENING THE GUESS WITH THROWING HIM TO THE STURM

Ethan is, indeed, shaken up when he comes into the factory and the first thing he sees is you, he saw you at the church, why are you waiting for him?

"I must say, under other circumstances, it would have been...nice to meet you, but there's no time to lose, come with me, please"

he's hesitant, which is understandable, but he follows, a hand always hovering over his gun and eyes following your every move

when you reach Karl's center of command, you are careful with asking to sit and please listen to what you two have to say

"That boulder punching guy and his people are here, right Ethan?" Karl has his back to the other man "You see...me and Y/N...we need your help"

"My help!? after everything, each and everyone single one of you psychos put through?!"

But Karl is not listening, he starts to tell his story...your story, how Miranda took you both and used you like she's trying to use Rose, but you two were defective, useless, he wants revenge and is willing to do anything to get it

There's desperation in his voice but Winters seems unmoved by it, later you will admit that what you did was manipulative but as long as it works

Both men see you leave and come back with your child in arms, the kid is a bit older than Rose, the gray hair and factions that resemble yours is all that Ethan needs to know, Heisenberg as a child

they are vastly different but, he's like Ethan, he just wants to put his family in a safe place, so he accepts with the promise of "I'll kill you the moment you try to betray me"

Involving and convincing Chris is a lot harder, the man is already pissed at Ethan and now he's besties with 2 of Miranda's underlings? but time is running out and hes desperate for help, and maybe, it could actually work

Chris gives Heisenberg coordinates of where there's gonna be someone waiting for you and the kid, and that you have to be quick in reaching the point or they will leave with out you

of course, you panic! Karl is staying behind and you have to go? you want to kick Chris in the face and make him change his mind, he already has the soldats, why does he need Karl too?!

it's he who has to almost drag you away towards where the Duke is, he knows he has a better chance of getting you there, Miranda won't spare a glance at the merchant

a hefty payment and promises of coming back to you later, you are delivered safely to the team, Karl's trench coat draped over your shoulders and a sack filled with some of your most precious items. feeling like that's the last time you will see him again.

from the helicopter's window, you see with horror how the factory gets destroyed, gasping when Karl's mechanical form appears from the rubble and his army moving to where Miranda must be

the wait is grueling, painful, the sounds of gunfire and explosions make you jump, your crying child screams for their father, but this time, hes not there to calm the not cries and make them laugh

it's past dawn when the bigger explosion shakes the helicopter and when you cry the hardest, believing hes dead, that he die protecting you both.

the entire ride back to the BSAA is spent in silence, your child cried themselves to sleep and you are...just there...heartbroken, unable to shed another tear

a group of paramedics comes to you when you arrive at the new area, asking you questions and trying to check you for any wounds, but you don't answer or hear or care

from far away you see him, limping and using Ethan as a crutch, and then you are running, harder than you have ever done in your life, a strong hold in your baby

Karl looks up to see you and he can't help but smile and cry, open arms waiting for you and catching you, not carrying for his wounds, hes just there and his family is safe...and the 3 of you are free

neither of you put up a fight when the BSAA informs you that you will be under surveillance or that wherever you go you are expected to stay close to their offices, you laugh wholeheartedly when Karl asks "But we can go anywhere...you won't keep us locked away?"

Mia is the one who insists that both families must be close to each other, and you accept

it feels like a dream when Karl comes back and bitches about something that happened in the new lab, he may not be allowed to use corpses but hes allowed to tinker around with his creations and help to contain all bioweapons

you see your child grow and little Rose comes often to play, both children laugh and run around, not knowing what life they could have had

they whisper secrets and share what they have, Mia lights up whenever your kid gives her drawings, Karl melts down a bit when Rosemary calls him "uncle Heis"

and you see him change, he no longer frowns or gets irritated, he giggles or tells jokes, you have caught him develop a true fascination in watching videos and play video games

for once in so long...everything is finally fine

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #karl heisenberg x reader #re8 #mia winters #ethan winters #x reader #answer stuff #rosemary winters #baby stuff

[envyathan]

[04:06] - i missed you in my dreams

@marissa-rosemary sent :: I loved the Mammon with a nightmare thing you did! Could we maybe get one where it's the MC who has a nightmare and goes to his room? Please and thank you! ♡

author notes :: sequel to mammon has a nightmare (here) aka the fluff ver.

tw :: some nightmarish description !! not TMI though.

You didn’t want to be here anymore- not in the plane of demons, definitely not any much longer away from the comfort of your room. Your real room and not with some strangers.

Of course- they’re more than that, they are friends- some are family, and well, one is... Something else entirely.

No matter- you came into the Devildom unannounced, thrown into the world of superstitions after leaving everything that made sense to you. Yet, for some reason, the ghosts of your bad dreams and all your terrible memories revive themselves from the dark. One by one, as you inch closer into the depths of dreams, a reoccurring thought appears once more before you doze off...

“Would anyone care if I was gone..?”

And then, you sleep- or at least, you try to. 

You slip into a nightmare, from one into the next. You can’t remember the last four, but you get a feeling that it’s better that way.

You’re in the dark, now, trying to wake yourself up; you can feel your arms by your sides, almost like being held down.

A ghost is breathing on your neck but as soon as you break free from this grasp and turn around, he isn’t there. Within seconds, they’re gone in a shadow of smoke. Perhaps that isn’t the frightening part- but you know you’re alone in this sleepless abyss- abandoned and forgotten by the world above.

Earth begins to turn into sinking sand beneath your feat and the feeling is terrible- as though your heart is being pulled from your mouth as you try to breathe, drowning in a sea of dirt.

A fear of being buried alive...

As if drowning and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you see him. The ghost right in front of you, calling for you in broken whispers.

Mammon.

He's crying- and you whip your head towards his familiar sobbing, a sound you hated to hear even in the void. Your eyes widen- heart racing but when you try to move it’s impossible; you’re frozen in place.

He’s holding... Someone who doesn’t seem to be moving and that alone scares you, because that hairstyle looks like the one Asmo picked out for you- so do those tennis shoes... And that’s when you awake with a scream- seeing yourself dead in your best friends arms.

“HELP!” You yelp, sitting upright with the sheets falling off and shirt still clinging to your skin. You can’t help it as you feel a wave of relief before the tears start pouring. You’re shaking- you can’t possibly be shaking when you’ve just got done leaking sweat.

Regardless, you’re a wreck- you almost don’t hear the door click shut, but you do, and that makes you cower into your arms more.

“Mammon..?” You whimper through a hoarse voice, and immediately-

“I came running as soon as I heard ya scream...” Mammon’s voice hushes as he sees you, but your tears are so blurry, its hard to navigate through the dim room only lit up by the hall lights. All you can think of is: Mammon, Mammon, Mammon...

You stretch your arms out and he grabs onto you before you can ask him to give you a hug.

“What’s wrong?..” His voice is oddly soft now as he pats your head albeit awkwardly. His heart is in the right place and that alone makes you smile. Still, he’s trying- and that settles it for you, that he isn’t just a moron as everyone says- perhaps a fool, yes, but a fool with a heart of gold.

“...Had a nightmare... Can I sleep with you tonight?...” You say this so gently he has to turn his head slightly and ask- “What? Say that again?”

You almost want to hit him, but you laugh at his ignorance, because ignorance is bliss and maybe it’s better he doesn’t know how much your heart ached. Not for your own self- not for the life you never got to live out, but you were sad for him above all else. Perhaps that’s what it means to care for someone, you muse as he rubs soothing circles into your back, and you think... Maybe he likes you, or at least thinks something of you- and that makes you want to smile selfishly.

You’re still hiccupping.

“I just had a nightmare, that’s all... was wondering if...”

A hesitant exhale as you steady your breathing, collecting your thoughts.

“If maybe tonight, I can chill in your room?.. I don’t want to be left alone...”

Pause and still no response and that alone filled you with anxiety.

“Please?”

Before you could even realize it, Mammon was carrying you bridal style to his room, eyes glowing as he grinned despite the way his heart ached.

You felt deeply embarrassed but were definitely too scared to move as the 6-something giant laid you on the bed, tucking you in like a baby without another thought.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone so long as I’m here, [MC]!” He states that as though it was a fact and not some false promise he'll keep till he gets bored enough...

Dawn til the late afternoon- just the two of you talking about everything and anything.

"It’s always been like that between you two... It’s a little sweet.” The soft voice in the darkest parts of your mind sing a lullaby, so you think. 

...That’s when you finally fall asleep.

You wake up occasionally, making sure he’s still on his couch scrolling through Devilgram and not off spending money... Not that it mattered to you- rather, like you told him yourself: you just didn’t want to be alone.

He keeps his word, however- and when you actually wake up, you see him laying on the couch, head tilted towards you- and a post notification from Devilgram. Sleepily, still perplexed by your terrible nightmares that you don’t realize who Mammon’s new girlfriend is. All you see is him smiling at the foot of her bed, with her blankets and a grin on his face.

Your heart breaks- shatters in a span of seconds, but immediately it’s put back together.

That hair color: yours, and that blanket was his... The morning face you had was the one currently staring back in the reflection of your D.D.D.

Your heart flutters and you have to think about something else before it eventually slows down. You shouldn’t be so happy- but you are- and it almost feels like a whole lifetime ago since you last missed home, even if it was less than a day ago.

...Home is where the heart is... And you’re beginning to realize your home is with him- with Mammon, wherever he goes, your heart follows, even if things are a little scary and Definitely confusing.

And although you’ll never have the guts to say it, at least not anytime soon, you love him, he’s a idiot- but he’s your idiot.

#mammon x reader #mammon x you #mammon x mc #om! swd #om! mammon #unedited bc im so fucking tired i feel like im stoned lmfao

[dindjarindiaries]

Mandoctober - October 31: Family

summary: You’re alone and in need of a family and a home—and the Mandalorian notices.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: insinuations of past harm/abuse, soft!din

rating: G

word count: 1.423k

mandoctober masterlist

october 31: family

The wind hasn’t been this bad in a while. It whips through the alleyway you’ve been accustomed to hiding in, shivering into the crates left abandoned by the local shop owners. Your hands grip at the sleeves of your run-down tunic, hoping that you can somehow fill the small holes that have started to tug at the fabric. You have no idea how many days it’s been since you ran from your old life, from your everyday torture—but you know whatever suffering you face in this alleyway now is much better than what you’re used to.

The galaxy isn’t kind and you’ve learned that the hard way. Years of trying to work as a servant to earn your freedom, instead getting shipped around like the items circulating in the nearby marketplace, has been enough to make you come to such a conclusion. You’d only been shown love by the animals that have crossed your path—and sometimes the children of those you served.

But this last one had been different. The entire family was out to get you, working you to the bone and barely paying you a single credit for it, constantly berating you about the Rebel past of your parents. They would purposely forget to feed you most days and nights and they’d make sure you went to bed late and then had to wake up early. Although most of the pain was psychological, you felt so worn down that you thought you’d break—and so you left it all behind. You ran as far as your feet could take you and now you’ve ended up here.

And shivering in an alleyway is a much better alternative to the life you used to lead. At least out here, you have freedom.

Your face hides in your arms as you cross them over your knees, hugging them tight to your chest. You can feel yourself trembling but many things have since become numb. The alleyway has always been windy thanks to its build, but today, it’s whipping harder than usual and you can practically feel every hair on your body standing on its end as you grit your teeth.

A shadow suddenly passes over you and you think it must be an oncoming storm. But then, there’s the sound of spurs treading the ground lightly, as if they’re trying to keep their steps light. The coldness of terror grips you as you dare to look up, instantly meeting the blank visor of a Mandalorian. His silver armor reflects the light of the overcast sky, making blink a few times as you adjust to it. The metal of his armor clinks as he bends down to your level, one of his elbows resting against his knee. You swallow hard.

“What do you need?” you ask, your voice hoarse from its lack of use since running away.

The Mandalorian doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his helmet tilts at you, as if he’s observing you more closely now. You flex your fingers nervously. “I would like you to answer that.” His voice is modulated and comes out in a rasp, sounding gentle yet also revealing how rough he’s used it in the past. It makes a chill run through you.

You shrug, fingers starting to grip at the dirty fabric of your pants. “I’m all right.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t move. You hold your breath, waiting for the moment he cuffs you and announces that your previous employers had sent out a bounty for you. Surprisingly, he stays in place and asks a question that knocks the breath from your lungs. “Has anyone asked to help you?”

You hesitate, wondering if this is somehow a trick. In your desperation, you decide it’s not, and you shake your head.

A grunt falls from the Mandalorian’s helmet in disapproval as he looks away from you for a moment. When his visor returns to your gaze, you watch him gingerly reach a gloved hand out to touch your upper arm. “I will be the first, then.” He pauses, never moving. “Do you like bone broth?”

You nod, opposed to refusing any kind of food when you’ve been living off scraps even before you ran away. The Mandalorian nods in understanding and stands up.

“Stay here. I’ll return with some.”

You nod again and hold your tunic close as your shivering continues. The Mandalorian hesitates, and you watch as he suddenly unclips his cape from his back and sets it over you. Your hands tug at the rough fabric graciously, your cheeks heating up a bit at his kindness. “Thank you—very much, sir.”

The Mandalorian simply nods yet again, heading off in the same direction he’d came. You notice now that he has a circular metal compartment following him, floating wherever he goes. You wonder what he’s bringing along as he disappears from sight, and you feel your shivering slightly beginning to subside thanks to the warmth of the Mandalorian’s cape. Though his actions seem gracious and nothing short of kind, you can’t help wondering what his intentions are, and you can only pray to the Maker that they’re not unkind.

You’re lost in these thoughts until the Mandalorian returns, a bowl of broth in hand that he gives to you once he kneels next to you again. You accept it with another word of thanks, holding it between both hands as you sip at it almost viciously. The Mandalorian remains silent beside you as you eat, nearly tearing up at the feeling of such warmth and fullness inside you. You’re amazed at the fact a Mandalorian finally got you to such a point.

When you finish, you set the bowl down onto the ground beside you, facing the Mandalorian with gratitude and curiosity. “Thank you,” you say genuinely, your voice low as you keep the conversation between him and yourself. “You’ve been very kind.” You hesitate, swallowing hard as you go on. “Now, may you answer my first question? What do you need from me?”

The Mandalorian lets out a sigh, crackling through his modulator as his visor never leaves you. Despite the fact there’s no gaze there, you can feel it burning through you, and you writhe a bit under its intensity. “You are alone.” The Mandalorian pauses as if waiting for confirmation of his statement. You nod. “You have lost your family.” You nod again. “You have no home.” You nod yet again. This time, the Mandalorian returns your nod. “Then I will provide you with both.”

Your brow furrows together as your mouth falls open in shock for a moment. “I… I—I’m sorry sir, you said you’ll provide me with a family and a home?” The Mandalorian nods again. You’re still at an utter loss for words. “How much will it cost me?” You expect there to be some work you must do in exchange for such hospitality.

Instead, the Mandalorian shakes his head. “No cost. No work.”

“But surely, you must need something in return.”

The Mandalorian simply bows his head. “This is the Way.”

For a quick moment, you smile, but you fade when you remember that a stranger is the one offering you this deal. Things could quickly become worse should his intentions switch up as soon as you leave with him. Your guard goes back up immediately and you can tell the Mandalorian notices.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I will not hurt you.” As if to prove it, the Mandalorian taps something on his vambrace, and the metal casing from before splits in two to reveal a small, sleeping form inside. Your eyes widen to see a tiny green baby, his ears like petals as soft snores tumble from his lips. He looks at ease—and you realize you won’t be the first one this Mandalorian’s taken in. “I was trained to protect and to uphold my Creed. This includes being of service to you—should you accept it.” The Mandalorian closes the contraption and faces you again. He’s now proven his ability to be true to his words and keep you safe, and so you let your smile return as you answer him.

“I will accept your gracious offer, Mandalorian.”

The Mandalorian nods at you, standing up and offering a gloved hand to you. “Then come, kar’ika. It’s time to bring you home.” You accept his hand as he helps you stand up, supporting your unsteady legs as he leads you to the family he’s just promised you, one that’s bound to last until the day you meet the Maker.

mandoctober tag list: @the-navistar-carol

permanent tag list: @mikahid @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann @javier-djarin @nettyklecan @mistermiraclee @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @smellssharpies @catfishingmorales @wille-zarr @kaetastic @saltywintersoldat @agentpike @mrsparknuts @readsalot73 @yespolkadotkitty @mandhoelorian @lilangeldevil006 @roxypeanut @hail-doodles @randomness501 @this-cat-is-dea @hopplessdreamer @paintballkid711 @dracos-jedi-marvel @whataenginerd @katlikeme @petertingless @propertyofdindjarin @theocatkov @bisexual-space-slut @cyaredindjarin @arkofblake @cryptkeepersoul @motleymoose @mrschiltoncat @f0rever15elf @lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache @rogueonestan @goldafterglow @thedevilwearsbeskar @badassbaker @pancakepike @alwritey-aphrodite @mymindisawhirpool @antmnwasp @capbrie @xjaywritesx @arabellathorne @mandilflorian @phoenixhalliwell @beiroviski @darthadeline @cheriedjarin @edencherries @mstgsmy @seasonschange-butpeopledont @buckysbeloved @poesflygirl @weirdowithnobeardo @dee-rosemary @ceebeetheartdork @kiwi-the-first @mitchi-c @arcaeperditaeinimicus @thatgirlselectryc @littlevodika @marvelinsanity @insoucianttt​

mandalorian tag list: @lola-wolf​ @hoodedbirdie​ @chibi-liz05​ @nerd-without-a-cause​ @hdlynn​ @thepjofanqueen​ @bwemph​ @starwarsslytherin​ @iellarenuodolorian​ @littlevodika​ @jjemcarstairs​ @promiscuoussatan​ @fahrenheit-not​ @vernon-dursley​

#the last one :( #but this classic! #i love soft!din please #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandoctober #drabbles #dindjarindiaries

[anextraordinarymuse]

Let's talk about these "secret sorrows"

Okay, it took me a good day or so of thinking, but I'm back. My initial reaction to the preview for episode 8 wasn't exactly positive, but after thinking about it I feel much better about what's coming up. So, as usual, let's talk about it.

First off, I don't think the secret has anything to do with Nathan other than that he was the one to keep it. I think the secret is going to end up being something like this: Jack disobeyed orders, or made a mistake, and that's what led to him being somewhere he shouldn't have been - wherever the accident happened. The synopsis for 8x08 says that Elizabeth is distraught over Nathan's secret, but distraught doesn't mean angry. Being distraught is a state of intense emotional distress; it means "agitated with doubt or mental conflict or pain." Interestingly, some synonyms for distraught are frenzied, frantic, and hysterical. Considering how Elizabeth ambushes Nathan in the middle of the street, I think it's fair to say that she's a bit hysterical. (By definition, hysterical means feeling or showing extreme and unrestrained emotion). Notice that not one of those definitions say anything about being angry.

I also think that this is the most likely scenario as far as this secret goes. During Nathan's speech at the inquiry, he says the following: "I am saddened for Mrs. Novak as well as the other brave women who have lost good men in the line of duty. While I can't bring these men back, I can honor them, their wives and their family, by continuing to serve in an honorable fashion." During these speech, we are shown a scene of Elizabeth and Allie approaching Bill's office. I think this was a clue that whatever secret Nathan is keeping, he's doing it to honor someone. I think that someone is both Jack, and Elizabeth. I think Nathan knows that whatever secret he's keeping will hurt Elizabeth and he's doing his best to protect her. More than that, I think that Nathan is also keeping that secret to protect everyone's memory of Jack, because he knows that Jack was well loved in Hope Valley.

Think about how powerful that will be. Nathan has labored under the weight of this secret for nearly three years now. Whether or not he wanted it to, it has played a part in keeping him from really pursuing Elizabeth because he's known that he's keeping it. I think this is what Kevin McGarry was alluding to when he said that there was a reason that Nathan was so hesitant and reserved with Elizabeth when he's not that way with anyone else. Nathan was willing to lose Elizabeth - the woman I think he genuinely tried not to love - rather than take the chance of tarnishing her memory of her husband. Now, I'm not saying that the secret will make Elizabeth think less of Jack, because I don't think it will - I'm saying that Nathan doesn't know for sure that it won't.

Sit with that for a minute. What greater act of true, selfless love can there be but the willingness to lose someone rather than cause them pain? That's so powerful. Now, I know that some people will say that Nathan had no right to keep that secret from Elizabeth in the first place, and that she deserved an answer, and to that I'll say this: it's never that simple. Nathan made the best decision he could, and he made it out of love and a deep desire not to cause Elizabeth pain. People make choices every day, and sometimes they turn out to be the wrong ones. I think we'll see that there was nothing nefarious in Nathan's secret - he didn't lie about knowing Jack, he didn't have a hand in his death either directly or indirectly, and he never lied to Elizabeth.

Second: In 8x07, Lucas quotes a book he's reading to Elizabeth. "Every man has secret sorrows which the world knows not." I think that this is Nathan's "secret sorrow."

But I think that Lucas has a secret sorrow as well, and we're about to find out what it is - and my guess is that it's going to have something to do with Henry's son, Christopher. I don't think it's coincidence that the moment Lucas finds out that Lee's watch is missing he goes to confront Christopher. Just like I don't think that Christopher's snotty comments about wanting a bigger room are random. I don't know when or how, but I think we're about to find out that Lucas and Christopher know each other somehow, and I don't think that Elizabeth is going to like whatever it turns out to be. Whether or not Lucas did something dishonest, I don't think that the thing connecting them is on the up and up. Now, wouldn't it make quite the parallel if we found out that there was some kind of secret between Lucas and Christopher? It certainly seemed like Christopher was trying to manipulate Lucas into giving him a bigger room with his "you owe me" attitude. Their interactions are definitely tense, and even though he fails at it, it's clear that Christopher was trying to bully or strong arm Lucas into giving him something (in this case, a bigger room).

Now, what a juxtaposition that will be. Here we have Nathan, who kept a secret out of honor and love; and Lucas, who (maybe) kept a secret for whatever reason it comes out to be - although I anticipate that whatever it is, it won't pack the same punch as Nathan's secret. In a synopsis of one of the upcoming episodes it says that a mysterious business man shows up in town, and that Rosemary discovers there's more happening in Hope Valley than everyone realizes and decides to get to the bottom of it. I think that these things tie into each other, as well as into Lucas and Christopher (and whatever their relationship turns out to be). I think that Lucas's line about every man having secret sorrows is a clue to how the last few episodes are going to play out.

Anyway, there's my two cents for now. Until next time, friends.

#nathan grant #nathan x elizabeth #team nathan #Jess' thoughts

[maaaddiexo]

Chapter Fifteen | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book Two: Ribbons]

Rosemary returned to England to find things just how she left them - her father and brother missing and her mother drinking in her bedroom. But Rosemary wasn't going to give up this time. She took charge of her family as the Pevensies took charge of a country. 

But it's been a year since all five of them returned to England, and when they are called back by Susan's magic horn, they return to a completely different Narnia. Magic has been dormant for centuries and men now rule Narnia but with brute force and terror. 

The Pevensies know why they've been called back to Narnia but Rosemary is once again left in the dark. And with Aslan making himself sparse, the five kids are left to their own devices to answer their own questions.

Do they trust the exiled prince? Can they save Narnia again, and this time without Aslan swooping in to save them? And in Rosemary's case, why was she called back?

[Chapter Sixteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Having not slept in a real bed for so long, it was hard for Rosemary to get out of bed in the morning. But she needed to find Aslan.

A new dress had been laid out on the chest at the foot of her bed the night before and she quickly changed into the green dress, doing up the corset as best as possible.

The castle was already alive, maids and servants bustling through the halls with feather dusters and clean linens. Still, they always stopped to bow or curtsy. She stopped one on her way to the kitchen, asking for Aslan.

"I beleive he's out on the western field. Would you like me to take you there?"

"Yes, please."

The maid didn't go out onto the field. She curtsied and then went back to the kitchen, leaving Rosemary looking out at the fields where she Aslan lying down in the middle.

"Tired?"

"No. Just taking a moment to watch the land. I know what it looks like but I am never able to stop and enjoy the land."

"I'm going to miss it. Aslan, why do I feel like my time here is dwindling? I know we have to leave today - the war is over, after all. But I didn't get this feeling last time we were here."

"It's because you no longer need Narnia. It's changed your life as much as it can, and in return, you've changed Narnia. But there's nothing more for you to learn here."

"This is the last time I'll be here? Ever?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear. Have you figured out why you were called here?"

"I think so. Narnia needed help again but it's more than that. It's made me a better person. Back home, I'm separate from the war - isolated on my farm in the country. Here, I was right in the middle of it and that taught me the importance of each and every life I come across."

"You also helped Peter. He was angry when they first came here. He believed he the person he was in Narnia was different from the person he was in England. But you helped him realize he's the same person wherever he goes. He's a better person because of you."

Rosemary smiled and laid her head down on Aslan's warm body, feeling him purr beneath her. "He feels it too. The pull of England calling us back. Is it for the same reason?"

"Yes. Like you, he and Susan no longer need Narnia."

"Do they know? Do they understand what it means?"

"They feel it but I'm not sure they have made the connection. I will speak to them before the ceremony."

Rosemary nodded. She didn't want them leaving Narnia without knowing they wouldn't ever be returning. "Can you promise me something? Take care of tue people here. And find me on the other side. So I know that everything here is okay."

•

It was odd for Caspian to wake up a king. They woke him up, bathed him, helped him dress, and were always ready to do whatever he asked. Thanks to years of avoiding his uncle, Caspian knew a lot of the secret passages and was able to give the staff the slip. He jogged down the steps into the courtyard in search of the Pevensies. Things were ready.

Girls giggled as Rosemary played with them and tied ribbons in their hair. They'd opened the gates to the grounds of the castle as a sign of good faith and the children had taken advantage of that, running around the grounds all day.

"Have you seen Susan?"

Rosemary smiled and pointed to the other side of the courtyard where Susan, Peter, and Aslan were walking. By Susan and Peter's pensive looks, Caspian knew not to intrude.

"What are they talking about?" Caspian looked back at the three to see they had stopped and were looking at him. Susan was crying.

"Your Majesty."

"Everything is ready."

•

The village ended at the cliffside, overlooking all of Narnia. There, the Telmarines and Narnians had all gathered for a meeting called by Aslan and Caspian. Under the shade of the tree, Rosemary stood beside Peter and Susan while representatives of the Narnian inhabitants stood on the other side of the large tree.

"Narnia belongs to the Narnians just as it does to man," Caspian began. "Any Telmarines who want to stay and live in peace are welcome to. But for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers."

"It's been generations since we left Telmar."

Aslan looked out over the crowd. "We're not referring to Telmar. Your ancestors were seafaring brigands. Pirates run aground on an island. There, they found a cave - a rare chasm that brought them here from their world. The same world as our kings and queens," he explained. "It is a good place for any if you wish to make a new start."

For a moment, the crowd only murmured in shock. And then,

"I will go." At the back of the crowd, Glozelle stood tall, a scar over his left eye. "I will accept the offer."

"So will we," Prunaprismia, who had been stripped of her royal status, bounced her baby as she and her father stepped forward.

"Because you have spoken first, your future in that world shall be good." Aslan let out a long breath of air and a gust of wind rustled the tree above them. It creaked as the trunk unwound, creating a door-sized opening in the middle.

The three adults looked behind them one last time before stepping through the opening, disappearing into thin air.

The crowd gasped in shock. "How do we know he is not leading us to our death?"

"Sire," Reepicheep stepped forward. "If my example can be of any service, I will take eleven mice through with no delay."

Rosemary grabbed Peter's hand and looked up at him. There was no need for anybody but them to be an example. Besides, their time in Narnia was running out anyways. "No. We'll go."

"We will?"

Peter looked sadly at Edmund. He and Lucy didn't feel the pull calling them back home. "Our time here is up. After all," he looked at Caspian and held out his sword. "We're not really needed here anymore."

"I will look after it until you return."

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan looked solemnly at Caspian. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?"

"You two are," Peter walked back beside Susan and Rosemary, looking at Lucy and Edmund.

"But why?" Lucy asked. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, dear one. Susan, Peter, and Rosemary have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live in their own."

"It's alright, Lu. It's not how I thought it would be," Peter looked at the crowd and then Rosemary, smiling. "But it's alright. One day you'll see, too. Come on. It's time to say goodbye."

Rosemary moved over to Aslan and for the last time, tangled her fingers in his soft mane. He purred softly and she smiled. "I'll miss you, Aslan."

"And I will miss you just as much, Queen Rosemary."

The blonde stood up straight and sniffled. "Don't forget your promise."

Aslan chuckled. "I can't ignore a queen's demand."

"Rosemary." The girl looked to see Peter reaching out to her. He pulled her in for one more embrace. "I'll see you on the other side?"

Rosemary smiled. "Susan and I have already made plans."

"Speaking of Susan," Edmund drawled. Before them, Susan was pulling him in for a kiss.

Lucy made a noise at the back of her throat. "I'm sure when I'm older I'll understand."

"I'm older and don't think I want to understand."

Rosemary laughed into Peter's shoulder. Being in love, they both understood but were lucky enough to be from the same world. "Just you wait."

The crowd grew silent and watched the five children gather in a line and walk to the tree. Knowing it was her last time, Rosemary looked out at the view for the last time and then over at Aslan. He nodded and she walked through the tree and the magical land evaporated around her.

•

Rosemary blinked. She was back in the woods with the silly yellow frisbee in her hands.

"Rosemary?" Daniel called from the farm. "Did you find it?"

The girl shook her head and smiled, running towards her brother and James. She dropped the frisbee and bodychecked her brother, wrapping her arms around his neck. It hadn't even been seconds to them but days to her. She missed them.

"Woah, what's with you?"

Rosemary looked at the two boys. She couldn't stop smiling. "Sit. I have something I want to tell you."

[Chapter Sixteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #chronicles of narnia #prince caspian #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #william moseley #peter pevensie x oc #peter pevensie x fem!oc #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie series #peter pevensie fanfiction #love #romance #fantasy #action #adventure

[lovelyirony]

y’all didn’t think i would did you 

Winnie wakes up around seven, groaning as Bucky’s alarm goes off. Why that boy can wake up for a shift at work but not for anything else is beyond her. Today is her day off, which means a lot has to happen.

Bucky stumbles into the kitchen, grabbing a bagel and stuffing it in the toaster. “Hey honey,” Winnie says with a smile, coffee cup in one hand and the other wrapping around her son. “Have a good night’s sleep?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. He shuffles over to the coffeemaker, pouring himself a cup and adding some creamer in. “No weird dreams last night, except that Steve was secretly Leonardo da Vinci.” Winnie laughs, taking a bite of her toast.

“You have crazy dreams, sweetheart. What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Go to work, try not to die. Take Steve home from his art club so he doesn’t walk in rainy weather.” She nods, making a mental note to remind Sarah so she doesn’t stress out. Steve used to have a medley of maladies, yet still thought he could kick God’s own ass. It was a problem. Now his immune system is kicking into high gear, but he still does a lot of stupid things. (Not that Winnie will mention it, he’s like a better-behaved son, but she Knows.)

“What about you, Ma? What’s your plan for today?”

“Eh, not much,” Winnie responds. “Get some work emails out of the way, go grocery shopping with Maria. I’m letting her use some of my bags.”

“Cool.”

That’s the end of conversation for a bit, until Bucky glances at the clock, grabs his keys, and drops a kiss on his mom’s cheek. “Love you, Ma. I’ll see you later today, okay?” Winnie waves goodbye, cleans up a bit of breakfast, and shoots off a text to Maria. When do you want to go grocery shopping?

How about 11?

Sounds great! Meet you outside your door.

Admittedly, Maria can’t wait until eleven rolls around. No matter what she does, time seems to tick slowly on by. She cleans the kitchen floor, tidies up Tony’s desk (it’s a nightmare), and also reorganizes her closet for the upcoming fall.

When it is 10:55, Maria gets out of the door, double-checks to make sure she has everything in her wallet and purse, and sees Winnie. She smiles brightly. “Hello Win!” She says. “Ready to go?”

“Of course!”

As they walk, they talk about everything in between. Weather, their sons, flowers, and groceries. Winnie says that general brand is as good as name brand, don’t let anything about it fool you. “Some people can taste the difference, but I doubt Tony will care,” she says. “Okay, we’re gonna get a cart and go.”

Maria picks up a lot of things. She picks up a jar of blackberry preserves for breakfast, some sauces, spices, fruits, and vegetables. Other basics, but that’s about it. She and Winnie at some products, Winnie reminisces over packing Bucky’s lunch for him every day with a little bag of chips, sandwich, and pudding. Maria picks up a box of goldfish, smiling as she remembers when Tony was young. He loved the fruit that Jarvis would cut up, the sticky juice running down his fingers. It would take him forever to be cleaned up—that boy avoided baths like it was his personal job.

After they finish up grocery shopping, Winnie offers to have Maria over for coffee and lunch. “I just got this nice arrangement of sandwiches from a coworker and as good as they are, I can’t finish them myself,” she says with a smile. “Would you like to have some?”

“Of course,” Maria says. “I’m always ready to eat with you.” Winnie grins, nearly blushing. “Let me just put my groceries away, and then I’ll be over to yours, if you’ll have me.”

“Always,” Winnie replies. Maria smiles, ducking into her apartment for a moment. She’s quite glad that Winnie can’t see her, because Maria is currently shoving groceries wherever they can fit, and rushing to get the bags back to an orderly fashion for her. Tony might text her about the state of the kitchen later, but for now she is going over to Winnie’s house to have coffee and lunch.

The other woman is currently trying to throw a cheese plate together and failing—she forgot to get the damned Colby Jack, best of all—and there’s a polite knock on her door. Winnie feels a bit like a mess. “Mother of shit,” she curses. “Shit, shit, shit—” The door opens to Maria looking very much so put together, Winnie probably looks like garbage, and there’s the smell of coffee wafting between the two of them.

“Uh, hello Maria. I tried my best to prepare lunch before you came, but there’s only so much time you have before a lady comes back from putting away her groceries.”

“Very right,” she says softly with a laugh. “Lead the way, Winnie.”

Winnie’s house is decorated very nicely. Portraits of the family, those dorky old outfits on full display. Maria remembers the shirts that were popular at the time, remembered that she owned a fair amount of them when it was around that time. Winnie smiles as she looks at them.

“James’ father hates these,” she says. “So I keep them around whenever he visits with his wife.” Maria nods. They head to the kitchen, some sunlight streaming in. She has coordinating cloths, sponges, and the whole scene is perfectly domestic. The black coffeemaker in the back completes it. Maria offers to help set the table, and Winnie lets her. They move comfortably in the kitchen as Maria navigates it, slowly moving around Winnie. She gets the plates and glasses, setting the latter down on the counter to get water. They bump into each other, and Maria tries not to let Winnie see her cheeks heat up, but that’s probably impossible at this point.

“So,” Maria says. “What kind of coffee do we have, Win?” The casual nickname shouldn’t make Winnie smile as much as she’s going to, but she gets out the selection.

“We have some breakfast blend, sugar cookie, and…oh god, I don’t even remember getting this one. Amaretto?” Maria’s eyes brighten at the last one, Winnie laughing. “Guess we’ll go with that one. Get me some coffee cups?” Maria chooses one with flowers all over it, the other one an old-fashioned diner cup. Winnie turns suddenly, coming closer into Maria’s space.

“Oh!” Maria exclaims. “I’m sorry Winnie!”

“It’s fine, this is a close kitchen,” she says. Also, given that Maria smelled like flowers and good things, being in close quarters was literally the best thing ever.

They get their coffee, sandwiches, and talk a little bit. Maria is talking about maybe starting working at a bookstore—the owner seriously needs some reorganization in the book department as well as some design work. While Maria doesn’t exactly have the best qualifications, she knows that she can prove herself. Winnie encourages it.

“You always look so cute, I wouldn’t even question it,” Winnie comments. Maria’s cheeks turn pink as she looks down at her coffee.

“Aw, thanks Win. You look beautiful too.” Winnie grins, taking another sip of her coffee. It was a good idea to be friends with Maria. She just hoped she didn’t muck it up by having actual feelings for her.

Tony wasn’t exactly the best morning person. Sure, he took coffee in the morning and practically gulped the whole thing down in five minutes, but that didn’t mean much. He still looked like he was a walking dead man.

Steve knew this, and still thought that Tony was one of the cutest guys he’d ever met. Steve would grin as Tony swayed out the door, smiling dopily at Steve.

“Hey,” he’d mutter, readjusting his backpack. “Ready to go?”

“Yup!” Steve would reply. “Did you do the English assignment?”

“About the…was it the Middle English?”

“Middle Ages,” Steve corrected. “We were supposed to be reading more lines from Beowulf.” Tony curses.

“No, I didn’t.” Then Steve gives him a basic summary, Tony commits to memory, probably gets a better test score than he should—damn that eidetic memory—and all is well. Their lockers are a couple away from each other, so Tony leaves Steve to go put his things away.

Tony really thinks that having a cute neighbor that goes to the same school is just unfair. Especially since Steve is a morning person, goes on a two-mile run every single day of his life, and is very, very attractive. Tony looks roughly like a mess in the morning, which is only worsened by the death sentence that is school. Just because he can do it doesn’t always mean he wants to. Especially this early in the morning, because who the hell even wants to get up early, save for Steve, Bucky, and probably all of Steve’s stupidly-attractive friends. Ugh, Tony needed more people who couldn’t deal with the morning.

The day goes on, Tony making faces at Steve in the hallway, asking him how his day was going.

“Going good. Hey, you eating with us in the cafeteria?” Steve asks, shoving his math book into his locker. “Natasha wants to verify that you’re a criminal when it comes to hydration.”

“All she has to do is wait a week, then see me fall in the middle of AP Chem,” Tony says.

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves a water bottle at Tony. “Drink, because I have a bet going that you’ll pass out next week and I really don’t want to lose five bucks to Nat.”

“Done,” Tony says, chugging the water bottle and handing it back. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Natasha scowls at Tony as he sits down at the table. “You’re soft, Carbonell.”

“Comes with drinking water and all that fun jazz,” Tony says. “Which, by the way, I believe you owe Steve five bucks.”

“Schemer,” Natasha mutters, sliding crumpled ones over the table. Steve takes out his wallet, putting them in. Tony snickers as he sees the picture of young Steve and his mom in a photo booth.

“You’re a goofball,” Tony says.  “Look at that stupid shirt you have on.”

“What, saying you haven’t done a photo booth thing before, Tony?”

“Nope,” Tony says. “I was busy doing other, cooler things.”

“What, like singing along to Rosemary Clooney records with your mom?” Steve teases. “We can hear the music, and a screeching voice…” Tony lightly pushes Steve on the arm, making a noise of protest.

“I’m sorry that you don’t know how amazing Rosemary is, but we have a lot of fun. Maybe this means you won’t be getting any orange chicken tonight.”

Natasha looks between the two of them; Steve liked to say that he didn’t fall easily, but here he was. Staring at Tony like he hung up the stars just-so, and Tony was smiling softly as he stole some of Steve’s blueberries when he wasn’t looking. They were in love. Steve was a liar. She’d have to collect on his statement of not falling easily. Maybe after they got together.

The rest of the day passes without incident for Tony and Steve. Natasha has a class with Bruce, and they have a substitute teacher, which basically means they’re doing nothing. She turns to Bruce, who sits to the right.

“You’ve noticed Steve and Tony too, right?”

“Repeat that?” Bruce asks, taking an earbud out. “Listening to loud music.” She repeats her statement, and he nods as soon as she finishes the sentence. “Oh yeah, definitely. Tony’s head over heels, and always talks about what Steve is going to do at home with him. I think this Friday he doesn’t have a football game, so maybe going to the roller rink. I know Steve’s skipping the party. And I think Tony mentioned having a puzzle night on Saturday.”

“I’d skip the party to do a puzzle if I knew it was hosted at Rumlow’s house,” Natasha mutters. “God knows how crazy people get over there.” Bruce nods.

“Yeah, real asshole guy. Tried to copy my physics work, and got caught because in Mr. Rainey’s words, ‘you haven’t been paying enough attention to do this much complex work.’” Natasha snorts, eyeing the clock. They got out of class in ten minutes. Enough time to get started on the actual bookwork, but not enough time to actually put any real work into it. Besides, she wants to tell Bruce about some gossip she heard from the cheer squad involving one of the teachers’ past.

Tony waits for Steve to finish football practice, and walks up to him after all the guys exit the locker room.

“It’s your lover boy,” Sam teases Steve. “Waiting for his sweetheart to get out of practice, and all.”

“Aw shut up,” Steve says, shoving Sam a little bit. “Makes sense to walk home together. We live in the apartment complex. I think you’re just jealous because you don’t have actual friends. Me and Bucky don’t count, you’re our charity case.” Sam flips Steve off as he pulls out his car keys.

“That was cold man, straight-up cold. Think I might actually report you to Coach Phillips, see what he does.”

“Probably congratulate me,” Steve says. “Finally affected you, dumbass.” Sam grins, bids him goodbye, and Steve looks over to Tony with a soft smile.

“Hey Stevie,” Tony says. “How was practice?”

“Same as always. We went over some plays, yelled at some of the second-strings, and listened to Phillips tell us that just because Ridgemont has a shit team doesn’t mean we can jack around next Friday. You and your mom are still coming, right?”

“Sitting with Sarah and everything,” Tony says with a grin. “You still on for a puzzle night?”

“Of course,” Steve says. “I haven’t done a puzzle in ages.”

“Me either,” Tony says. “Mama picked up a new one, it looks fun. Shows a picture of vintage candy tins.”

“Nice,” Steve responds, adjusting his backpack. “You excited for the roller rink?”

“Yeah, I’ve never gone to one before,” Tony says. “I don’t even really know if I can skate.”

“If you can’t, I’ll make sure you don’t fall,” Steve teases. “After all, you can’t cling to the wall the whole time.”

“My knight in shining armor,” Tony declares, hand over his heart. “Whatever do I owe you?” Steve pretends to think for a moment.

“A skate dance when we go, I think.”

“I was going to do that anyway,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, I bet that Winnie or mom is cooking food.”

“I’m not gonna bet, I got a text from your mom that said she’s making garlic bread.”

“Yes!”

The boys arrive at Maria’s apartment in a heap of backpacks and jackets and laughs. Maria smiles, greeting Steve with a hug and Tony with a kiss on the cheek and a reminder to get his laundry folded and put away.

“Yes, Mama!” Tony calls, slumping to the family room. “Ugh, I’m so tired. I had to listen to Professor Reed drone on and on about physics and practicality. Worst class ever.”

“Then why do you take it?” Steve asks, slipping in the Mario Kart disc. “I say ditch it and find a more interesting class.”

“Nah, I like his reaction when I write my papers dissing his personal theories, it’s therapeutic.” Steve laughs, tossing him a controller. “You prepared to have your ass kicked in Mushroom Gorge?”

“Only when you admit defeat when I get first place.”

“Oh, that’s a challenge.”

They continue playing, occasionally trash-talking each other. In between, Sarah comes in, bearing the ground beef for the spaghetti and some more dishware that she doesn’t use anymore that Maria likes.

“Ready to get that waffle-maker dream out of your head?” Sarah asks.

“No, definitely not,” Maria replies, winking. “Pass me the oregano, will you? This needs a little bit more for the meatballs.” Sarah tosses her the bottle, and they work with relative ease, Sarah humming along to Bob Seger on the radio.

“I’m glad you’re here, our last neighbor was boring,” Sarah says. “Real old lady who borrowed my good cheese grater and never gave it back.”

“I’m glad I’m here, then,” Maria says. “Can you get the boys, it’s nearly dinner time. They need to wash up.”

Sarah enters the room to hear Steve and Tony arguing about whether or not Mario is actually good.

“As educational as this is, I’m going to have to have you guys save it for later,” Sarah says, smiling. “Steve, Tony, wash up. We’re having spaghetti. Tony, could you cut up some fruit for us?”

“Always,” Tony says, giving Sarah a kiss on the cheek. “Your day go okay, Ms. Rogers?”

“Of course,” Sarah answers. “Just a couple of medical hiccups on paperwork at the hospital. I’m just glad I have tomorrow off.”

“Break time,” Steve comments, making his way to the bathroom.

They’re all seated at the table, laughing together as Maria tells them about her grocery store experience. They share knowing looks when she talks about her and Winnie getting coffee.

“Your mom has a crush,” Steve mutters to Tony.

“No duh,” Tony murmurs back, smiling and putting another bite of blueberries into his mouth before his mother catches him.

#lovelyirony writes #y'all didn't THINK it would happen but it DID #dads not required #this fic is kicking my ass #tony stark #stony #sarah rogers #maria stark #maria carbonell #steve rogers #winnie barnes

[thetigarchives]

THE TIG ARCHIVES│LIVING│HOLIDAY READING LIST

“Cozying up during these rare days off work. Traveling to see friends and family. Tucking away for a vacation amidst the holiday revelry. Whatever it is – this time of year, you need a good book. Something to sink your teeth into, or perhaps something to share with the folks in your life you just can’t quite figure out a gift for. The end of the year brings a beautiful bounty of literary selections from the cheeky to the weighted, and everything in between. No matter what you’re in the mood for, we have you covered. Snuggle up with some cider or toss one of these in your carry-on bag and escape with a TIG tested and approved book for the season.”

1. Yes Please by Amy Poehler

“When Amy Poehler revealed that she was writing a book, the world’s collective response was, in fact, the title that the comedienne chose for her debut: Yes, Please. And while there are hundreds of celebrity memoirs, Poehler’s is one that stands out in the cookie cutter crowd. Poehler, herself, explains her writing best: “I know what I am doing. I am presenting a series of reasons as to why you should lower your expectations, so that you can be blown away by my sneaky insights about life and work.” And darling, she really will blow you away.”

2. All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

“If you peruse any number of “Best Books of 2014″ lists, you’re going to find Anthony Doerr’s brilliant novel on all of them—yes, all of them. The National Book Award finalist tells the stories of two different people in alternating chapters—a blind French girl and a young German genius set during World War II—allowing you to become immersed in dual narrative like never before. This one will pull at your heartstrings…but ’tis the season, after all.“

3. How to be Parisian Wherever You Are by Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline de Maigret, and Sophie Mas

“Because admit it, you want to be French. Or you know someone who does. They’re so well put together without looking like they’ve tried at all, their food tastes as good as it looks, and dammit, even their language sounds like they’re reciting love poems every time they open their mouths. But since we can’t all be born French (sigh), How to be Parisian Wherever You Are: Love, Style, and Bad Habits will help you get a little bit closer with gems like, “The Parisienne retains her little imperfections, cherishes them even—these are the signs of a certain strength of character.” And bonus: the book makes for great Instagram folly.”

4. We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler

“Resist the urge to read anything about this book before you begin. Seriously—do not Google it, do not read its New York Times or Man Booker Prize review (for which it got shortlisted, FYI), unless you want a major plot point spoiled for you, because its been written about endlessly. Just trust us: the book about Rosemary, her vanished siblings, and the rest of her family, starts in the middle and then goes back to the beginning—twice— and will confuse you until everything makes complete sense.”

“Happy Reading!” - Meghan Markle, December 2014

#the tig #the tig archives #meghan markle #holiday reading list #tigbooks #tigliving

[southwarkcofe]

Reflections on 2020: Collated, Installed and COVID inducted as the Archdeacon of Croydon

Ven Dr Rosemarie Mallett, Archdeacon of Croydon, writes...

I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1: 9

In late December 2019, as I looked forward to the New Year, I knew I would be leaving my inner city parish of 12 years, to take up the role of Archdeacon of Croydon in mid-March 2020. It was going to be a wrench for both myself and my daughter, leaving the church and the parish school, the adults, young people and children, the community, and Lambeth where I had lived all my time in London. At the Watchnight service on New Year’s Eve, I preached a sermon which focused on the change that was to come for myself and for the church members. I said, ‘One thing you can be certain about in the coming year is that you can't be certain about what is ahead. This is a great blessing, because you do not need to know. To know what is ahead and the details of what will happen would be too great a burden to carry and too great a responsibility to bear.  While you cannot be certain of what is ahead of you, you can be certain of who is ahead of you. It is the Lord who goes before you, is ahead of you, and is preparing the way for you’. Obvious perhaps for a watchnight service, but in the year we have had still quite prescient. Indeed church members remind me of the sermon quite often when they call to see how I am doing.

Now at the start of 2021, I have been trying to find an image to describe 2020, and unsurprisingly perhaps I came up with that of a roller coaster. But why not, because life in the church and the world, has taken so many twists and turns, ups and downs, with so much sadness, as old certainties are replaced with anxiety over health, employment and finances. But there has also been sheer shout out moments of joyfulness for the silver linings, the things we never thought we would or could do, or that we would stop doing. And despite the extravagantly warm early summer in April and May of the first lockdown, when things just did seem to hit the pause/shush button, for many of us lucky to be in work life has been lived at a pace full pelt as we learnt new skills, took up new opportunities and responsibilities and found new ways to be or stay in contact with family, friends, co-workers and new people. Well that’s what it has felt like coming in as an Archdeacon at such a time.

My service of collation and induction was March 15th, a week before the first lockdown, with a wonderful service at the Cathedral filled with family, friends and colleagues. I have to give thanks that it was not a super spreader event, because for months I went around feeling slightly guilty because everyone said that lockdown should have started that same week and we should not have held the service.  However, after one half day in the area office and a drive around two of the deaneries at the beginning of an excellently thought through programme of induction, everything suddenly stopped. I had not a clue about the people, the places, the churches and the priests that were now part of my new role and responsibility. And despite closed buildings, the work of the church and the needs of parishes and priests does did not stop, so the ropes had to be learnt quickly, mostly on line. In the first few weeks of lockdown, while everyone was getting used to the new normal of them, things started quietly, but then despite the usual rhythm of meetings and visits that were completely offset, many, many meetings, most often by Zoom,  filled all the diary spaces. And of course, building issues do not go away, and indeed they became even more challenging when contractors were not available due to the lockdown, slowing everything down and causing even more distress for parish priests, incoming curates and lay leaders. If I can single out one overarching implicit role that I have come to appreciate, it is to ensure that in everything we do, we work to enhance the wellbeing of our priests, for in doing so we help meet not only their needs but the needs of their families, their lay leaders and congregations, their churches and the parishes also.

My colleague archdeacons have been beyond invaluable in assisting me to come up to speed. From the beginning we started to meet for prayer twice a day 4 days a week, and as well as praying for the world, the diocese, our archdeaconries and each other, we were able to share the issues and challenges facing the church and priests in our areas, quite a lot of it related to COVID19 of course. Through these almost daily meetings, which offered prayer and advice and guidance, I was inducted into the full and corporeal responsibilities of being an archdeacon. I have to add that after the first few weeks, once things settled into some sort of pattern, the wonderful team of diocesan senior leaders and officers were there to offer advice guidance through the somewhat opaque archidiaconal world of faculties, finances, registry, legislation, property and planning.  The Area Deans in the Croydon area have been also quite marvellous, in helping to shape my understanding of the deaneries and any local particularities. The one thing I can affirm with certainly during this strange year is the graciousness of people to help a newbie, and the knowledge and experience of the staff that work for the diocese. Standout moments for me in this post was the first time I played my archidiaconal role in the induction of a new priest in September, and then in preaching for the delayed ordinations of new priests in the Croydon area in October.

2020 has of course also been underscored and accentuated by the death of George Floyd in May 2020, and the questions that his tragic and horrible murder has raised about racism in society and institutions. It has been an honour to serve the diocese as the lead for diversity and inclusion, and responding to the issues raised by the Black Lives Matter protests, by taking part in a number of on line local and national conferences and webinars. In June, I joined church colleagues and community members in Horley to take part in a BLM Walk of Witness, and in August I joined national colleagues to lead Sunday worship on BBC Radio 4 on the topic Race and the Cross. In October, the diocese held an extremely successful Black History Month seminar on Black History and Environmental Justice and many churches led services or events to mark BHM.  I do hope and pray that we have reached a pivot moment where we no longer pay lip service to the necessary change to our structures, relationships and strategies to ensure that all people are treated equitably.  

I finished writing this blog in December 2020, after taking the funeral of an elder from my old parish church. Strangely enough my second day in post as archdeacon was to return to the parish to take the funeral of another elder. That might make it seem that death has bookended my time in post thus far, but actually it has been more about celebration and thanksgiving, giving thanks to God for lives well lived, for people well-loved. And at the end of this seismic year, when there has been change for everyone, it is good to put anxiety aside, and come back to the very basics of ministry, offering service and pastoral care, and reminding people of the love of God in Christ, who came to save all.  

Hail to the Lord's Anointed, great David's greater Son! Hail in the time appointed, his reign on earth begun! He comes to break oppression, to set the captive free; to take away transgression, and rule in equity.

[shakib-posts]

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Did someone say "glow-in-the-dark unicorn blanket"? Sold.

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[mcdanielmusic]

Into the Great Unknown

Last night, I slept in an easy chair. Why? I slept in an easy chair because it is beside my Mama’s bed. We are in the last hours of my Mama’s life. It has been quite a journey...

Ten years ago this year my Mama moved in with us because of being diagnosed with Dementia. We hear all the the time about how horrible Dementia is. I agree it is horrible. It does slowly deteriorate a person. It can been extremely painful to watch. It has not always been a bed of roses. I am saying all this to get the bad news out of the way, and to let you know that I am realistic. I have not always been patient or even happy that my life has been limited while having her here in our home with our family. My children were in their early High School years when she moved in. For two years she shared a room with my teenaged son. Want to know something awesome? He never complained. It took two years for us to settle down to the idea that life had shifted again. Two years of her being unhappy to give up her independence. Two years of getting her house ready to put on the market. Then another family crisis occurred. I’m not going into that now, but needless to say it turned and twisted our life around again. It was an emotional class V tornado. It devastated everything in its path and we could neither avoid being in its path nor did it leave the landscape of our lives the same. Yet, in the midst, there was music, and laughter. There were huge successes. Music tied our lives together and kept us moving forward. Our studio did workshops and our students flourished. I performed in shows. My mother assisted me as long as she could. She sang with me until she could sing no more, then she listened.

My mother traveled the world with me to hear me sing. My mother loved large. To quote Shakespeare, “ Though she be but little she is fierce.” She helped people. She served her community. She loved her family. I made a promise to her when she moved in that I would keep her home and care for her to the end. I have never left her. She was there for my first breath on this earth, I will be here for her last. I have no regrets. I am blessed.

We have gone from wheelchairs to walking, thanks to an exercise class I made her take that she hated. Lol. We watched her dance her last steps dancing Gangnam style with Rachel and Rosemary, ( my daughters), thanks to Dancing with the Stars. (That was a fun night)! Of coarse, there was the time she sat on the chocolate cream pie because she forgot she put it in her chair and my husband and I thought she had messed all over her room, when we realized NO ITS PIE, and laughed our heads off! We wore out her walker. We took her on hikes in her wheelchair. She wheelchaired through 5K races with us! If we could figure it out, we helped her do it with us! Mama and Me to the end. We have argued and said I’m sorry more times than I can count. My Mama has stayed with me as long as she could. She smiled at every student that came in the door. She has clapped for them and loved them.

Now, in these last minutes of her life, all these things go through my mind. All my life I have held her hand. Into my adult life, I still held her hand when we walked together. I am still holding it now. She has been the brightest spot in my life. My partner in crime. My safe haven in times of trouble.

There was never a question for me or a doubt that I would take care of her at the end of her life. I have always been a caretaker. She taught me that. Before I wa born she took care of people. Loving and accepting them for who they are.

We called ourselves, “War Buddies.” We were always in the trenches of life together. Our life was not an easy one. No matter how many bombs were lobbed at us, or in our direction, we covered each other. We prayed together. We loved God together. We sang His praises together. She taught me to love Jesus and people. In these last hours, I sing to Jesus for her.

I try to live my life transparently. Thus, the title of my blog, The Naked Singer. I struggle every day to make sense of my life. I have had someone to take care of and help Mama with since the day I was born. Have I had to put my life and what I want on hold a lot? Yes! We can talk another day about all that. My realization when I made decisions that pulled me away from what I want? IT ISN’T ABOUT ME! I trust God with my life. His ways are higher than mine. I don’t know why. But, I know and trust who does.

When Mama breaths her last, I will no longer be a caretaker for the first time in my life. I am walking into a new adventure. The Great Unknown! 2020 will be a really new year for me and my family. God goes before me and I follow. As for me and Mama, a new journey awaits. To quote Obi-Wan Kenobi (we are Star Wars Fans lol), “You can’t win, Darth. If you strike me down I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.” 😊❤️ My Mama will continue to be with me wherever I go. I will see you again. ❤️

[kaylagadingan-blog]

Journal Entry #2: 1942 Portland

When I opened the door to Elijah, instead of the long, windowless hallway lined with doors leading to open apartments, there was a green field. I heard birds filling the sky with songs. Across the field, there was a man with a cap on his head and a hoe on his shoulder. He was singing a song, I still remember how it goes.

Who asked you to be buried alive?

You know that no one forced you?

You took this madness on yourself.

When I turned around in shock, the big, elegant meal was gone. My relatives were nowhere in sight. Behind me was a very old-fashion kitchen. It was warm and smelled of fresh bread. There was also a woman, who I later found out was named Girl, pounding bread dough who began speaking to me. She asked for a man named Shmuel, the man heading towards us in the field. Eventually, the man came into the house and greeted me with a big hug. They kept on calling me Chaya, which was my Hebrew name, the one I was named after Aunt Eva’s friend. Strangely, they spoke in Yiddish and I could understand every word they were saying. I kept telling myself it was a game and I tried to play along but the longer I'm here, the more it seems real. According to them, my parents had died from a mysterious disease. But how can I be both Hannah and Chaya? That’s impossible though, I know that I’m Hannah. I know because I remember all of it. I remember my mother, my father and my brother Aaron. I remember my school in New Rochelle and my best friend Rosemary who I would always go shopping with once it was finally the weekend. I remember my house with a jungle gym in my backyard I grew up playing in and the 17 stuffed dogs on my bed. Oh, I miss them all so much.

I don’t know what’s going on anymore or what kind of sick game this is but I want to go home, wherever that was. My mind is foggy and the only thing running through my mind right now are the words Gitl had said to me before had put me to bed, “Shmuel and I- we are your family now.” I already have a family and I don’t need another one.

[howardlinkedin]

Group Project: Part 2

Running Title: Group Project. Part 2 Part 1: Here Part 3: Here Sequel to Shelter Summary: Something has been keeping Cross from being a melancholy bastard, and Kanda gets an apology from someone he honestly doesn’t even remember, but at least he finally got Alma their cupcake. Feat: Timothy wants to be like his Papa. 

While they were all packed onto Allen’s tour bus for his next concert in Barcelona, said singer/songwriter was eyeing his swear jar critically. Next to him, Timothy was mimicking him, though for likely different reasons.

“Why do I need a swear jar?” The boy asked, frowning. Okay sure he had a bit of a mouth on him, but it’s not like he had any money to contribute regardless.

“Cussing is bad and makes you look unintelligent.” Intoned the young father.  “Also, you’ll need this for when you meet Grandpa.”

“Grandpa?” “Grandpa.”

---

Colonel Marian Cross sneezed in his office.

“Bless you sir!” Hollered the greenhorn, Tokusa, as the kid ran by, arms full of documents and what looked a coffee for Colonel Nyne.

---

Link had to do a double take at the newly updated swear jar. Gone was the cut out of Han Solo, and in its place was a freshly printed and trimmed image of Spock. The blonde baker turned and gave his husband A Look.

Said husband gave a smile full of so much mischief, Link felt his ears burn.

Timothy look between both of his new parents and squinted. “What?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Allen sang.

---

Anita Han was the owner of a corner cafe on the same block as Miranda’s and Aleister’s stores. She was proud of her little business and those who worked for her. She also enjoyed manning the counter herself most days. If Anita were one to boast, she would claim that her brewing prowess was one to be appreciated. On the other hand, Mahoja, Anita’s friend and co-owner of the cafe, did enough boasting about their store and skills for the both of them.

In her care, Anita Han also has a nephew.

---

When Allen held his first, quote/unquote, concert at the home of the Minister of Defence (who happened to be a Noah of all the things), Cross felt unfairness billow down into his bones.

It was an awful unbalance, this unfairness. It bubbled up and Cross almost let it come out, but he forced it down. Maybe he would let it all out later, after Allen had his moment and the Colonel could run away for just a moment.

The unfairness that he could watch his kid, who was all grown up and making his way in the world, but Mana wasn’t there.

It was moments likes these, when Cross would look at their son and feel the flow of longing creep up his spine.

It was also during Allen first de facto concert, under the moonlight and in the crowd of people, Marian Cross began to feel.

He also began to hear.

Where the prickles along his back would be brushed away by a familiar pressure and a fond memory would sigh that sigh that meant Cross was being his own brand of ridiculous.

“No more of this melancholy, you silly cello man.”

Ping, ping, ping goes the sound, like keys on a piano (except Allen wasn’t playing the piano). And Cross would turn, only to find no one and nothing there.

At first, he wrote it off as too much expensive alcohol.

---

Chaoji came to her all of thirteen years old, from a broken home and an even more broken heart. With him was also a baggage of prejudices that Anita Han refused to allow into her home.

“Every moment you step through this doorway, you will leave all your biases on the front step.” She instructed, unmoveable.

The young teenager scowled and looked from Anita to the world behind him, as if weighing his options. He went inside regardless.

Young Chaoji eventually learned that the person he was before wasn’t worth being at all, and that he could stay on that doorstep and take a hike.

His aunt became his new mother and Chaoji thought she was a superhero. She was calm but strong, and wherever she went, she easily called attention. Anita was a natural leader who inspired loyalty in not just wayward teenagers. Chaoji was one hundred percent certain that his aunt could tell a mountain to move, and it would.

Chaoji Han wanted to make his aunt proud.

---

There came a turning point for Chaoji Han, where he wished he could find certain people from his past and apologize.

---

Looking at their brooding husband, Alma set the pile of fabric they had for a new design on their studio table. “I thought you were going to get tea from Anita’s?”

Kanda kicked his boot into the innocent wall he was brooding upon. “Some jackass behind the counter yelled at me.”

After a heartbeat, Alma asks, “What did you do?”

“Nothing damnit!”

“Yuu.”

Throwing his hands into the air, Kanda scowled. “The creep started spewing out my name, and wouldn’t stop staring and it was weird as fuck Alma!”

Well, that was a bit odd, Alma surmised. “You said he yelled at you.”

“Yeah, after I started running out the door.” Alma’s husband said, bluntly. They both stared at one another, before Kanda went back to brooding.

Alma decided that new clothing line for that magazine could wait another day and grabbed their keys. “Alright, come on. Let’s go try again.”

“What?” Kanda looked at them, incredulous. “I’m not going back there. If you want a cupcake so damn bad call Two-Spot to mail you one from Russia.”

“They’re in Spain right now, Yuu.” “What the fuck I don’t care.”

Alma was giving Kanda that fond look they always gave, whenever Kanda was being ridiculous but they still found it endearing. “Obviously it’s bothering you, so let’s go try again Yuu.”

“No.”

They leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on Kanda’s cheek. “Yes.”

Goddamnit, Kanda thought.

---

The second time it happened, Cross was watching his brat get proposed to directly after his graduation ceremony. Besides him, Neah was hyperventilating while Road called everyone on the family contact list about the news.

Really, you go kid, Cross had thought, smug and proud (even though the other young man was related to Lvellie, but Cross was very good at ignoring things he didn’t want to deal with). There was a cheer and clap besides him, and at first he thought it was Road on the phone with one of the other Noah.

“He’s grown up so much Mary. I’m so proud.” “Yeah.” Marian breathed. “So am I.”

Wait.

Standing and looking errantly around, Cross found no one beyond the two in the bleachers with him. Road was off the phone and started to rapid fire text, while Neah was busy scowling.

Noticing the redhead’s distraction, Neah also looked around. “What is it?”

There was a breeze and if Cross allowed himself to listen well enough, he could hear a piano and a laugh. “Nothing.”

“It’s nothing.”

It had to be nothing.

---

“Helloooo Grandpa!”

Cross hung up the skype call.

It rang again, and his damn brat was still grinning like the troll that he was. “Don’t be so rude Cross. You have a grandson to meet!”

“Christ I thought the news was just making shit up.” He grumbled. “Well, let’s meet the kid.”

Off screen, Cross could hear Allen coercing the kid over. “Come on Tim!”

The screen was taken up with the face of a very curious boy with blue hair and large brown eyes. Once again, Marian Cross remembered that he knows fuck all about how to interact with children. This resulted in a staring match.

(He could hear Allen laughing in the background. “Allen shut up.”

“You are so awkward it’s sad.” His brat stated. Cross felt his eye twitch.)

“Hello I’m Timothy.” The boy finally greeted, deciding to pity this old man and lead the conversation.

“Hi.” Cross greeted back.

More staring.

(“Link. Link, this is hilarious.” Allen had stage whispered.)

Timothy squinted at the screen. “Why do you have so much hair?”

“Because. Why is your hair blue?”

“Because.”

(“Yes, why is his hair blue?” Link asked, staring his husband down. Allen whistled innocently.)

Deciding that Cross had enough social torture he could handle, Atuuda took this moment to climb his shoulder and steal the show. “Cat!” Timothy announced, suddenly excited. Said feline chirped and began purring up a storm in Cross’ ear. Loud hell creature.

Link popped his head into the window. “Ah, Atuuda.”  

At seeing her human, Atuuda went up close and personal with the computer screen and began to paw at it. On the floor, there was a demanding yip, and Cross found himself with a lapful of happy corgi.

“Tim!” Allen cheered, now in the screen. His son looked at him confused. “What?”

“No, Timcampy, our dog.” “Wait, if I’m Tim, and the dog is Tim, then who’s driving the car?”

---

“Anyway, how’s Rosemary?”

“The fucking plant ate my cigars.”

“Oh good, you are feeding her.”

Taking his cue, young Timothy crawled into his father’s lap and shoved the swear jar at the camera. “Quarter!”

Cross choked on his tongue.

---

Timothy thought his new family was very odd, but also very cool. Especially since apparently he also now had a cat AND dog. (And a man eating plant, but that’s for a later meeting).

---

The cafe` door chimed, and Chaoji gave an enthusiastic “Welcome!” Only to suddenly feel like hiding under the counter the moment he saw his two customers.

Alma Karma had made it their mission all throughout middle school to chase Chaoji off away from Kanda. Not that he blamed them now. But past regrets were only one factor that made Chaoji want to hide.

Alma was scary as hell when mad, and it didn’t take a genius to tell that Kanda Yuu was very precious to them.

Behind Alma was said precious person, who was skulking like a shadow.

The second they saw Chaoji, a dark look flashed over Alma’s face, and the barista waved his arms in the air, signalling surrender. “Wait wait! I’m sorry!” He let out.

The other customers in the cafe looked up from the coffees and newspapers, startled and curious.

“I was trying to apologize earlier, but he ran off, and I am so sorry for everything!”

The entire coffee parlor was silent, when Alma snorted and then giggled. Chaoji felt his knees go weak.

Looking at their husband, Alma flashed a glittering smile. “He’s sorry Yuu.”

“For what, freaking me out?” “...Yes.”

Kanda huffed and stalked to the counter. “Fine whatever. I want a white tea and the biggest cupcake you have.”

Stunned, Chaoji wordlessly punched the order in, giving the other man a confused look. “You don’t. Remember me.... Do you?”

It was Kanda’s turn to look confused. “I just saw you an hour ago; I don’t think I’d forget someone who weirded the fuck out of me.”

At a cafe table, Alma was laughing silently into their fist and kicking the wall in mirth.

Well, Chaoji got to finally apologize at least.

---

The third time, Anita had just introduced herself to him with one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen in a long time, and a spark in her eye that could very well excite him if he let himself look long enough.

---

After ringing up his order, she introduced herself. “Anita.”

Cross looked from her outstretched hand, to her (still very pretty) face, flummoxed. “What?”

She laughed, and Cross noted that her laugh was also very pretty. “This is the part where you give me your name and I start to flirt with you.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

---

Marian walked out of the cafe, a little star struck with a cup of coffee and a phone number scrawled beautifully across the cup.

“Oh, she’s lovely. I like her!”

Jumping, Cross cursed and whirled around, looking for that voice that sounded too much like a happy memory.

Once again finding nothing but air, Colonel Marian Cross grumbled to his car. Only to spill the entire contents of his coffee on his front when the radio station began playing a piano melody.

It was supposed to be a rock station damnit!

---

Once in Barcelona, the little family unpacked their way into their new temporary hotel suite. Timothy had quickly become shellshocked at all the flashing cameras and people vying for his father’s autograph. Taking the front through the crowd, his newly dubbed Aunt Lenalee somehow managed to split the sea of people as if she were Moses.

Little Timothy decided he was going to hold her hand, because she was cool.

“You’re cool.”

Lenalee laughed, charmed and agreed. “I know.”

Once unpacked and comfortable, Link began taking over the kitchen, which was well stocked “as a courtesy.” Link believed that his husband was simply spoiled wherever he went.

Setting out flour, eggs and butter, Link began going over his mental list of what to bake. Deciding on a cake, he began tying his apron around his waist, when he felt a tug on it. “Hm?” He looked down at Timothy who was looking up at him with all the seriousness a ten year old could muster.

“Papa.”

Link felt his heart jump into his throat.

“Show me how to make something.”

Suddenly feeling weak in the legs, Link found himself crouching at his son’s level and hesitantly patting the boy on his crown. “Alright.”

Allen chose that moment to slither over the other side of the counter bar, eyes heated. “Papa.” He sang and taunted. Link jerked himself upright and ignored his child of a husband, grabbing a chair and setting it next to the island table where all the ingredients were set. On some kind of instinct Link didn’t even know he had, he lifted Timothy up and into it. “First we need to sift the flour, then get our wet ingredients measured.”

Timothy nodded, determined to listen to everything his father was telling him.

Sliding next her best friend, Lenalee cooed and started videoing the impromptu baking lesson. “Cute, cute, cute!”

After showing the boy how to sift flour, Link let Timothy try on his own. Only for the ten year old to shake the sifter too roughly, and sent a plume of flour into the air and onto Link’s face. Lenalee began laughing and sent the video to Alma.

“I am finding you so attractive right now.” Allen stated, gaze still hot. Link only glared, ears red.

“Papa you have flour on your face.”

---

That night, Link was considering smothering his husband with a pillow.

“Papa~”

“Stop.”

“Papa, Papa. Link’s a Papa!” Allen chanted, straddling his husband on the bed, grinning like an imp. A white haired, handsome imp that Link found himself terribly attracted to.

Maybe he should smother his own face with a pillow, with how red he can feel it burning.

Throwing himself into a fit of giggles, Allen buried his face into the crook of Link’s neck.

#ashlee writes #dgm fanficiton #allen walker #howard link #timothy hearst #kanda yuu #alma karma #anita #cross marian #chaoji han #timcampy the corgi #atuuda the cat #dont worry next chapter will feature Lavi #Allen likes to tease #Link is Papa and he likes it but is also flustered stupid #timothy wants to be like his papa #Lenalee is the Cool Aunt #so is Anita #cross is being haunted I guess but in a very good way? #errors will be fixed as I see them

[xpwewarchive]

XPWEW Friday Night Pyro (1-3-2020)

XPWEW Friday Night Pyro

January 3rd, 2020

Houston, Texas in The Fertitta Center

*Show intro*

Golden Bryce enters the ring to a pretty good pop, he’s popular here as the New International Champion (instant replay shows how he defeated Slayer for it last week at the 2019 Xtremey Awards edition of Pyro)

Golden Bryce enters the ring with microphone in hand and hyped up the Houston crowd to his dismay he is interrupted by The XPWEW World Champ Champagne Clausen who enters wearing Louis Vuitton red bottom shoes and a canary suit, looks pretty G I’ll admit it.

-Champagne says Golden Bryce is just like Deshaun Watson of the Houston Texans, *crowd boos* Unproven and Overrated. *crowd boos*

And as a man from upstate New York, myself I am very excited to see my Buffalo Bills beat you guys tomorrow ha ha ha *crowd boos* BILLS MAFIA!

Golden Bryce smiles and nods “Champagne if I’m the Houston Texans then maybe you are the Buffalo Bills, maybe that’s applicable because just like Bill Mafia I think you’d look a hell of a lot better going through a table *crowd cheers*

Champagne “HA HA HA! Yeah Houston laugh it up, yeah look at you Bryce so pathetic, clinging on with sports jokes, timely references to draw the ire of this crowd here. Truth is nobody likes you and everyone here is tired of you and I know we haven’t been properly introduced but I’ll do that now. I’m Champagne Clausen. I’m YOUR world champion. I’m (SHUT UP!) I’m Houston’s world champion and I am not scared of your challenge. As a matter of fact I endorse it. I’ve beaten Masato Tanaka twice on pay-per-view! Okay I beat the lovable moron Freight Train last week, I even did something you didn’t Bryce (heh) I actually beat Jake Awesome. (Crowd ooos)

Bryce: “So what’s the deal are we doing a Tables match?” (Crowd pops)

Champagne “On God. On Bills Mafia as my witness...You’re damn right” (Champagne cheers his world title with Bryce’s I-N title around his waist) *walks away*

-Ethan Bedlam already in the ring, loosening up and hyping himself up

Garrett Thompson enters

M1: (((Squash Match)))

Garrett Thompson defeats Ethan Bedlam

After the match: All Man comes out with All Woman and goes to speak towards GT but Scott Steiner jerks the mic right out of his hand *Big Pop*

Scott Steiner: “Houston! We have a problem that crumpet and tea drinking big bastard wants a piece of the biggest arms in the world! Ha I’ll break your back you goof!

((Garrett yelling obscenities))

Steiner continued: “All my freaks here wanna see the Big Bad Booty Daddy put a beatdown on some punk that’s why you better find a partner or else get slumped by me and the All man, or just fold like a b**ch (crowd pops)

GG enters and starts punching All Man and Scott Steiner and GT runs up to the ramp and we have an impromptu 2 on 2 right now

M2: Tag Team Match

GT & GG defeat Scott Steiner & All Man w/ All Woman

The match ends when GT hits Steiner with the elbow smash to which GG hits his finisher “The Plunge” off the top rope for the 1-2-3 - All Woman was just a little too slow to break up the count and the tag division might just have a new team in GT & GG (Quite odd bedfellows)

Backstage: James Westerbeck is here for an interview with John Oliver and John just says he’s happy to be here on Friday Night Pyro and since doing his segment on professional wrestling on his show “Last Week Tonight” a few months ago he’s become obsessed with the culture and it’s just a thank you fest until women’s Champ Amy Lee enters with Brian Lee behind her (silent). Amy says she doesn’t like when people who aren’t wrestlers get involved in her business. Oliver makes a quick wit joke “I don’t like when people who aren’t talented at communication get involved in the act” *crowd oohs*

Amy: “Are you calling me stupid? I could break your little ass in half boy”

Lola Starr enters “John, I love your show I watch it every week. I respect your open minded opinions”!

Amy towards Lola: “What the hell do you think your doing freak!”

Lola Starr: “I’m stepping up and ive been here for months and I’ve yet to be given opportunity, being showcased. It’s like I got signed because of the headline. Yes. I’m trans and yes I identify as a woman and yes I am going to challenge you for that title. Tonight.

Amy (looks at Brian Lee)....You got it, let’s see what you goin. (Amy looks at John Oliver and gives him a huge dramatic pull in sloppy kiss).....

Leonard, Dragon and Ms. Ryu enter

Joe Gacy, Brodie Croyle & Kiera Hogan enter

M3: Non Title Match

Leonard McGraw & Dragon Kid (c) vs The Plagueground w/ Kiera Hogan

(((ENDS IN NO CONTEST)))

Match abruptly ends when 3M Ultra comes out and attacks Croyle and Gacy for revenge on them injuring his partner M3 Quintillo last week, He beats them both down with his XTREMEY award and at the climax breaks it over Kiera Hogan’s skull (rough spot)

3M Ultra angrily grabs the mic and says last week my partner was decimated for absolutely no reason by these a**h****s and then the damn company that I bust my ass for gave me that trophy! Really? “The WOAT award” Is this a joke? Get that camera up close I will be taking seriously

Leonard McGraw stances up “Son, do you wanna be taking seriously?”

3M Ultra “Hell Yes!”((Leonard McGraw decks him with a buckshot clothesline) crowd pops huge

McGraw: “I don’t give a damn if it’s Plagueground, The Larva, GT, GG, All Man, All Woman, Kiera Hogan, Hulk Hogan I’m fixin’ to whoop some ass and I’ll do it on anybody who wants smoke. And I got two words for every son of a bitch in the back F*** You

(((McGraw does the hook’em horns and the Houston crowd pops huge)))

Backstage: Doxy Deity is talking sweet and cute-like with Jordan Oliver until Ruckus, Siaka & Chrissy Rivera Walk up

Ruckus “I ain’t tryna buss on ya but bitches really just waste your time pimp”

Doxy “who the f*** you calling a bitch, m*****f*****?”

Ruckus: Hoe don’t give me no nut roll

Jordan: Ruckus bro don’t man it ain’t necessary for all this beef right now

Ruckus: Nigga I’m trying to win titles ok and if we gonna be a team I need to make sure you got Noooooooo distractions and Dox, I, I, I, I respect you, you know what I’m saying but my boy here is young, he dumb and he over this (crowd laughs). Listen pimp I don’t care what y’all do, I might even get Chrissy to watch, shit but I wanna win gold and if you ain’t trying to do that, Then I might have to dip and go solo and get mines cause best believe Ima get mines.....

Rosemary walks by McGraw and Dragon Kid quickly and comes to the aid of Kiera Hogan her just got blasted in the head by 3M Ultra with his “WOAT” Xtremey Award..

Slayer enters

Dramatic pause between entrances because the crowd knows this is CJ’s final match

))((Chris Johnson Career Retrospective Video Plays))((

Chris Johnson enters the ring; one final time to his old theme song “Stay Fly by Three 6ix Mafia”

Chris Johnson’s wife Erin Brown aka Misty Mundae is in the front row of the ramp way and he kisses her forehead during his entrance

Retirement Match

M4: Slayer w/ Rosemary & Kiera Hogan defeats Chris Johnson

After the match and the loss the crowd pops for Chris Johnson

((THANK YOU CJ *clap clap clap clap*))

Chris Johnson grabs the mic: No complaints about the match, No complaints about this crowd, No complaints, No excuses. Wherever we were, Whatever I did. I always left my blood and sweat on this canvas and I’m not gone, I’ll be around but this is my final night as an in-ring competitior and...

***lights go purple***

LOTUS enters

((Lotus walks into the ring and Chris Johnson looks around, perplexed and confused.))

((Lotus kicks Chris Johnson square in the groin))

{{Crowd oddly pops for it though, Houston is weird}}

LOTUS unmasks

Nick Simmonds on commentary : “ Katie, that’s. Wait that’s..that’s Slayer’s daughter Hazel! What the world!

Kaitlyn Khaos on commentary: “Nick, Hazel has a very very odd past with Chris Johnson”

Lotus looks at a downed Chris Johnson “Do you remember me!!!! The anguish and abuse you put me thorough!!! You tried to take me away from my family. You son of a bitch I’ve waited a long time to do this!!!”

((Slayer beaten up and Rosemary looking on from the corner of the ring))

LOTUS goes outside and grabs a steel chair and beats Chris Johnson with the steel chair over and over again repeatedly until eventually even Slayer and Rosemary try to get her to stop and LOTUS looks at Slayer and Rosemary then just whams Chris Johnson with the chair really hard one more time. *Crowd stunned*

Chris Johnson is lifeless in the ring

LOTUS exits slowly by herself and then walks by Erin Brown (the wife of Chris Johnson). Drags her over the guardrail and starts pulling her hair and kicking her until Arena security gets involved and pulls LOTUS away kicking and screaming.

Advertisement: Golden Bryce and Dr. Disrespect “What is Twitch” commercial #2

HBO’s Last Week Tonight set up is put together pretty accurately in the ring

John Oliver enters

In ring segment: Welcome to Last Pyro, Tonight with John Oliver. Please welcome tonight’s guest the xpwew world champion Champagne Clausen

Oliver makes jokes at Champagne’s expense

Compares the vegetation of his father to the Brexit events

Regina Clausen is really the Ivanka Trump of XPWEW, because she’s talentless, has done nothing to earn her position, Only in said position because her father gave it to her and at times it looked like he wanted to have sex with her (crowd groans)

John Oliver runs down the numbers between Champagne’s 22-0 streak vs Jacques 89-0 streak.

John Oliver shows much sympathy for how the story of Freight Train has been one of hope and disaster

After sitting there for the most part taking in all of these insults Champagne sits up in his chair and Says

Champagne: “John I like you. I even like your show well I guess used to. I always start John Stewart did it better (crowd groans). John you come out here and mock my father, my sister. I don’t even care. They didn’t win this title for me. I wasn’t handed anything lest I remind you I worked very hard for the past 5 years to get to this level, to this stage. Hell, to even be in a monstrosity of a segment with someone like you John. And my answer is I don’t care. None of your jokes phase me. My dad is a vegetable. Yea. I drove my sister off the stage inside of a Pope mobile. I did that. John I’m not like a politician who will look you in the face and lie. I did these things. I’m glad my dad is in a coma. I’m happy my sister is damn near handicapped somewhere. And I’m freakin’ ecstatic that Freight Train’s Cinderella story last week came to a screeching hault.

John Oliver (was that pun intended?)

Golden Bryce enters

(Stage hands clear the Last Week Tonight set quickly but leave John Oliver’s table in the ring, this table match is gonna start

World Champ vs International Champ

Tables Match

M5: Champagne Clausen defeats Golden Bryce

(((John Oliver got mildly involved in the match but he didn’t take a bump, just ran away)))

The match ends when both men our on the top rope and Bryce was sizing up Champagne for the Super-Plex off the top rope and Champagne had the resilience to reverse it, slide down Bryce’s back and hoist him backward for the Electric Chair drop through the table and your winner Champagne Clausen!!!!

Champagne Clausen rolls out of the ring with ease and pushes over the John Oliver “Last Week Tonight” screen monitor then holds him world title up walking up the ramp as the show ends...

#xpwew #friday night pyro #chris johnson #lotus #jake aweosme #golden bryce #leonard mcgraw #champagne clausen #all man

[thegloober]

Bright Wall/Dark Room October 2018: A Story with A Ghost in It: On Family, Trauma, and Hope in Guillermo del Toro’s Crimson Peak

by The Editors

October 9, 2018   |  

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We are pleased to offer an excerpt from the latest edition of the online magazine, Bright Wall/Dark Room. The theme for their October issue is “The Uncanny,” and in addition to the “Crimson Peak” essay by Kate Horowitz below, they’ll also be featuring pieces on “Annihilation,” “Rosemary’s Baby,” “Step Brothers,” “Minority Report,” “Birth,” “Nocturnal Animals,” “The Swimmer,” “A Serious Man,” “Stoker,” “The Killing of a Sacred Deer,” “Yolanda and the Thief,” “Gattaca,” and “Nocturnal Animals.” The above art is by Tony Stella. 

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You can read our previous excerpts from the magazine by clicking here. To subscribe to Bright Wall/Dark Room, or look at their most recent essays, click here. 

I used to have a t-shirt with a cartoon of an axe murderer on it. The killer clutched her still-dripping weapon in one hand, a man’s severed head in the other. She wore a polo shirt and an expression of abject horror. OH NO, read the caption. I’VE BECOME MY MOTHER.

The joke is that the killer needs to reassess her priorities. The joke is that a woman in golfing attire has removed a man’s head from his body. The joke is that we can’t outrun our roots. The joke is that buckets of blood are her birthright, that this violence was inevitable.

On its surface, Guillermo del Toro’s film Crimson Peak presents the same story. The tale of creepy British nobles (Tom Hiddleston and a gloatingly-villainous Jessica Chastain) luring an American heiress (Mia Wasikowska) to their haunted mansion hits all the major gothic horror notes: the gauzy nightgowns, the poisoned tea. A little dog trotting curiously down a darkened hallway. Dark legacies. Axe murder.

But all of this is beside the point. On this subject, del Toro has been quite vocal, both personally—“Crimson Peak is not a horror movie,” he insisted in interviews—and through his plucky hero, the heiress/writer Edith Cushing. Her novel is not a ghost story, she explains to a patronizing publisher. “It’s more a story with a ghost in it.” 

We’re meant to chuckle, here; it’s understood that Edith’s defensive pedantry is del Toro winking at his own reflection. Yet the distinction still matters, because this really isn’t a story about ghosts. It’s about learning to listen to them.

All three of the film’s central characters faced gruesome trauma as children. Edith was visited by ghostly visions of her mother’s blackened, decaying corpse; Sharpe siblings Thomas and Lucille endured far, far worse. Young Lucille bravely bore the brunt of her family’s violence, but no child’s body could possibly contain it all. Her impulse to protect her little brother twisted into something terrible. The horror began to surge forth from her. It didn’t stop.

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These are, of course, extreme cases, the awfulness aggrandized for dramatic effect. Technically, trauma is any experience that makes a person feel unsafe and overwhelms their ability to cope. That might be extreme violence like military combat or sexual assault. It might be an accident like a car crash, or sustained stress like chronic pain or emotional abuse. Too much happens too fast, or for too long.

Which is to say: trauma befalls everyone at one time or another. But not everyone develops post-traumatic stress. The difference between someone with PTSD and someone without is not, experts say, the nature or severity of the event, but whether the person in question can regain a sense of safety, and process what’s just happened. We need social support in order to soothe our activated nervous systems. We also need to physically release our panic-fueled energy. Sometimes that looks like fighting back. Sometimes it means running away.

Family violence is often bound up in secrecy, creating a closed system that normalizes dysfunction. Children born into these systems may be trained from birth to accept abuse, no matter how it might hurt them. They may be taught that destructive behavior—others’, and, often, eventually, their own—is an ugly fact of life rather than a decision. They may be told that it’s unsafe to leave.

A stranger tried to abduct me when I was 17. I was lucky; I realized what was happening just in time and ran. It would happen again a few years later, and I would begin to wonder, because how could I not, if everything my mother had said when I was a child was true. If I really was too cute and little! for my own good. If venturing outside alone was inviting violation. If it really would be better to stay in the house, no matter who or what else was in there with me.

Trauma psychology is still a young field; our understanding of what trauma is and how to treat it is constantly shifting. Many psychologists argue that post-traumatic stress is not an illness but a healthy response to unbearable circumstances, that aftereffects like panic attacks and hypervigilance are survival mechanisms activated by a body under siege. These practitioners believe that the focus of recovery should not be suppressing a person’s so-called symptoms, nor erasing a traumatic event from their memory. It should be helping the traumatized person pay attention to what their body is telling them—to help them finally find their way to safety.

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Crimson Peak’s Edith seems to know this instinctively. Raised by a loving father in a warm, sturdy home, Edith is equipped with the resources she needs to carry on despite her losses. She grows into a compassionate and courageous woman. This doesn’t mean that she is not haunted wherever she goes. It means that when the ghosts appear, grotesque and terrifying though they may be, Edith does something extraordinary: she asks the moaning phantoms what they want. And, when they tell her to flee, she heeds them.

Thomas and Lucille spent their early years locked in an attic. They never once knew safety or a parent’s love. They also never developed Edith’s uncanny talent for seeing the dead. Unfortunately, this doesn’t spare them from being haunted. The red riptide of their past drags them endlessly toward a red horizon. They do a lot of very bad things. They can’t conceive of doing anything else.

When Thomas and Edith first meet, he is mystified by her wild ideas about free will. He devours her story-with-a-ghost-in-it while she’s still writing it. 

(reading): This fellow Cavendish, your hero.>span class=”Apple-converted-space”> 

THOMAS: There’s a darkness to him. I like him.

THOMAS: Does he make it all the way through?

EDITH: It’s entirely up to him.

THOMAS: What do you mean?

EDITH: Well, characters talk to you. They transform.

EDITH: They make choices. 

THOMAS: Choices.

EDITH: As to who they become.

The Sharpes set a marriage trap, and lovely Edith gamely wanders in. She does not share her wealthy, protective father’s distrust of her suitor. She also does not doubt the accidental nature of her wealthy, protective father’s sudden death.

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Thomas brings his new bride home to desolate Allerdale Hall. The Sharpe family home is in a state of literal collapse. Snow and dead leaves fall softly through room-sized holes in the rotting roof. A pit of liquid red clay oozes beneath the house like an open wound.

At first Edith roams the halls too freely, disturbing the mansion’s deadly stillness. The house’s ghosts shriek and snatch at her with their mangled hands; Edith holds out an open hand in return. She listens to what they have to say. Cracks appear in Lucille’s chilling composure. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Thomas’ resolve wavers. Crimson clay bleeds through the walls.

But before long the poisoned tea does its work, and Edith’s bright eyes dim. Even as the ghosts accosting her grow more insistent, escape becomes harder to imagine.

EDITH: I have to leave. I have to get away from here.

LUCILLE: Edith, this is your home now.

LUCILLE: You have nowhere else to go. 

Yes, is the answer. I do.

A moth is not the opposite of a butterfly, nor a refutation of it. The differences between them—genetically, aesthetically, behaviorally—are infinitesimal compared with all they have in common. And a blonde woman is not the opposite of a brunette, even if the brunette murders people. They are both human, and haunted, and falling apart. By the time this is all over, they’ll both have blood in their mouths.

My heart is tender, as Edith’s is, and as Lucille’s was, once. And like Lucille, over the years I did more than my share of damage.

These days, I feel most like Thomas: scarred and remorseful, stepping hopefully over the threshold.

“Trauma is a fact of life,” writes psychologist Peter Levine in his book Waking the Tiger. “It does not, however, have to be a life sentence.”

Survival often comes down to chance or privilege or luck. Being born into a safer body, or family, or world. Realizing the danger you’re in before it’s too late to run. Being able to run. Having someplace safe to go. Finding the right self-help book or support group or therapist or meditation or medication or poem or prayer or all of the above. Deciding on a whim to listen to an album or watch a TV show that ends up saving your life. Meeting someone who says, Why are you doing this?, which is another way of saying, You don’t have to do this, which is another way of saying You get to choose what kind of person you become. Realizing that they’re right.

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When my realization came, I knew I had to tell my mother. I sat her down at my dining-room table, took a deep breath, and started weeping. She pulled me into her lap and held me tight. I was 33 years old.

I told her that I was making some big changes in my life. I outlined for her the size and shape of my dysfunction. She was silent for what felt like a long time. When at last she spoke, it was through a pained smile. “Well,” she said, “you certainly come by it honestly.” 

Del Toro may disagree, but to me the climax of Crimson Peak is the moment Thomas—passive, tormented Thomas—makes the improbable decision to escape with Edith, and his sister, if he can.

THOMAS: We can leave, Lucille, leave Allerdale Hall.

LUCILLE: Leave?

THOMAS: Think about it. We can start a new life.

LUCILLE: Where?

THOMAS: Anywhere. It doesn’t matter.

I won’t claim that Crimson Peak has a happy ending. Lucille dies, and Thomas dies too, horribly; our curses and demons don’t give us up easily. Still, the last moments of Thomas’ life are brave ones, and his fleeting afterlife is expended helping Edith escape. The ghost of Thomas Sharpe bids his wife a loving goodbye—and then, at last, he leaves.

The axe murderer t-shirt eventually went to Goodwill. It wasn’t that my sense of humor matured; if anything, the older I get, the harder that horrible cartoon makes me laugh. What changed was my willingness to dress myself in violence. We can’t control what happens to us, or the stories we’re born into. But we don’t have to live, or die, or kill, inside these bloody houses. We can leave, Lucille. We can leave.

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Source: https://bloghyped.com/bright-wall-dark-room-october-2018-a-story-with-a-ghost-in-it-on-family-trauma-and-hope-in-guillermo-del-toros-crimson-peak/

[mrmichaelchadler]

Bright Wall/Dark Room October 2018: A Story with A Ghost in It: On Family, Trauma, and Hope in Guillermo del Toro's Crimson Peak

We are pleased to offer an excerpt from the latest edition of the online magazine, Bright Wall/Dark Room. The theme for their October issue is "The Uncanny," and in addition to the "Crimson Peak" essay by Kate Horowitz below, they'll also be featuring pieces on "Annihilation," "Rosemary's Baby," "Step Brothers," "Minority Report," "Birth," "Nocturnal Animals," "The Swimmer," "A Serious Man," "Stoker," "The Killing of a Sacred Deer," "Yolanda and the Thief," "Gattaca," and "Nocturnal Animals." The above art is by Tony Stella. 

You can read our previous excerpts from the magazine by clicking here. To subscribe to Bright Wall/Dark Room, or look at their most recent essays, click here. 

I used to have a t-shirt with a cartoon of an axe murderer on it. The killer clutched her still-dripping weapon in one hand, a man’s severed head in the other. She wore a polo shirt and an expression of abject horror. OH NO, read the caption. I’VE BECOME MY MOTHER.

The joke is that the killer needs to reassess her priorities. The joke is that a woman in golfing attire has removed a man’s head from his body. The joke is that we can’t outrun our roots. The joke is that buckets of blood are her birthright, that this violence was inevitable.

On its surface, Guillermo del Toro’s film Crimson Peak presents the same story. The tale of creepy British nobles (Tom Hiddleston and a gloatingly-villainous Jessica Chastain) luring an American heiress (Mia Wasikowska) to their haunted mansion hits all the major gothic horror notes: the gauzy nightgowns, the poisoned tea. A little dog trotting curiously down a darkened hallway. Dark legacies. Axe murder.

But all of this is beside the point. On this subject, del Toro has been quite vocal, both personally—“Crimson Peak is not a horror movie,” he insisted in interviews—and through his plucky hero, the heiress/writer Edith Cushing. Her novel is not a ghost story, she explains to a patronizing publisher. “It’s more a story with a ghost in it.” 

We’re meant to chuckle, here; it’s understood that Edith’s defensive pedantry is del Toro winking at his own reflection. Yet the distinction still matters, because this really isn’t a story about ghosts. It’s about learning to listen to them.

All three of the film’s central characters faced gruesome trauma as children. Edith was visited by ghostly visions of her mother’s blackened, decaying corpse; Sharpe siblings Thomas and Lucille endured far, far worse. Young Lucille bravely bore the brunt of her family’s violence, but no child’s body could possibly contain it all. Her impulse to protect her little brother twisted into something terrible. The horror began to surge forth from her. It didn’t stop.

These are, of course, extreme cases, the awfulness aggrandized for dramatic effect. Technically, trauma is any experience that makes a person feel unsafe and overwhelms their ability to cope. That might be extreme violence like military combat or sexual assault. It might be an accident like a car crash, or sustained stress like chronic pain or emotional abuse. Too much happens too fast, or for too long.

Which is to say: trauma befalls everyone at one time or another. But not everyone develops post-traumatic stress. The difference between someone with PTSD and someone without is not, experts say, the nature or severity of the event, but whether the person in question can regain a sense of safety, and process what’s just happened. We need social support in order to soothe our activated nervous systems. We also need to physically release our panic-fueled energy. Sometimes that looks like fighting back. Sometimes it means running away.

Family violence is often bound up in secrecy, creating a closed system that normalizes dysfunction. Children born into these systems may be trained from birth to accept abuse, no matter how it might hurt them. They may be taught that destructive behavior—others’, and, often, eventually, their own—is an ugly fact of life rather than a decision. They may be told that it’s unsafe to leave.

A stranger tried to abduct me when I was 17. I was lucky; I realized what was happening just in time and ran. It would happen again a few years later, and I would begin to wonder, because how could I not, if everything my mother had said when I was a child was true. If I really was too cute and little! for my own good. If venturing outside alone was inviting violation. If it really would be better to stay in the house, no matter who or what else was in there with me.

Trauma psychology is still a young field; our understanding of what trauma is and how to treat it is constantly shifting. Many psychologists argue that post-traumatic stress is not an illness but a healthy response to unbearable circumstances, that aftereffects like panic attacks and hypervigilance are survival mechanisms activated by a body under siege. These practitioners believe that the focus of recovery should not be suppressing a person’s so-called symptoms, nor erasing a traumatic event from their memory. It should be helping the traumatized person pay attention to what their body is telling them—to help them finally find their way to safety.

Crimson Peak’s Edith seems to know this instinctively. Raised by a loving father in a warm, sturdy home, Edith is equipped with the resources she needs to carry on despite her losses. She grows into a compassionate and courageous woman. This doesn’t mean that she is not haunted wherever she goes. It means that when the ghosts appear, grotesque and terrifying though they may be, Edith does something extraordinary: she asks the moaning phantoms what they want. And, when they tell her to flee, she heeds them.

Thomas and Lucille spent their early years locked in an attic. They never once knew safety or a parent’s love. They also never developed Edith’s uncanny talent for seeing the dead. Unfortunately, this doesn’t spare them from being haunted. The red riptide of their past drags them endlessly toward a red horizon. They do a lot of very bad things. They can’t conceive of doing anything else.

When Thomas and Edith first meet, he is mystified by her wild ideas about free will. He devours her story-with-a-ghost-in-it while she’s still writing it. 

(reading): This fellow Cavendish, your hero.>span class="Apple-converted-space"> 

THOMAS: There’s a darkness to him. I like him.

THOMAS: Does he make it all the way through?

EDITH: It’s entirely up to him.

THOMAS: What do you mean?

EDITH: Well, characters talk to you. They transform.

EDITH: They make choices. 

THOMAS: Choices.

EDITH: As to who they become.

The Sharpes set a marriage trap, and lovely Edith gamely wanders in. She does not share her wealthy, protective father’s distrust of her suitor. She also does not doubt the accidental nature of her wealthy, protective father’s sudden death.

Thomas brings his new bride home to desolate Allerdale Hall. The Sharpe family home is in a state of literal collapse. Snow and dead leaves fall softly through room-sized holes in the rotting roof. A pit of liquid red clay oozes beneath the house like an open wound.

At first Edith roams the halls too freely, disturbing the mansion’s deadly stillness. The house’s ghosts shriek and snatch at her with their mangled hands; Edith holds out an open hand in return. She listens to what they have to say. Cracks appear in Lucille’s chilling composure. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Thomas’ resolve wavers. Crimson clay bleeds through the walls.

But before long the poisoned tea does its work, and Edith’s bright eyes dim. Even as the ghosts accosting her grow more insistent, escape becomes harder to imagine.

EDITH: I have to leave. I have to get away from here.

LUCILLE: Edith, this is your home now.

LUCILLE: You have nowhere else to go. 

Yes, is the answer. I do.

A moth is not the opposite of a butterfly, nor a refutation of it. The differences between them—genetically, aesthetically, behaviorally—are infinitesimal compared with all they have in common. And a blonde woman is not the opposite of a brunette, even if the brunette murders people. They are both human, and haunted, and falling apart. By the time this is all over, they’ll both have blood in their mouths.

My heart is tender, as Edith’s is, and as Lucille’s was, once. And like Lucille, over the years I did more than my share of damage.

These days, I feel most like Thomas: scarred and remorseful, stepping hopefully over the threshold.

“Trauma is a fact of life,” writes psychologist Peter Levine in his book Waking the Tiger. “It does not, however, have to be a life sentence.”

Survival often comes down to chance or privilege or luck. Being born into a safer body, or family, or world. Realizing the danger you’re in before it’s too late to run. Being able to run. Having someplace safe to go. Finding the right self-help book or support group or therapist or meditation or medication or poem or prayer or all of the above. Deciding on a whim to listen to an album or watch a TV show that ends up saving your life. Meeting someone who says, Why are you doing this?, which is another way of saying, You don’t have to do this, which is another way of saying You get to choose what kind of person you become. Realizing that they’re right.

When my realization came, I knew I had to tell my mother. I sat her down at my dining-room table, took a deep breath, and started weeping. She pulled me into her lap and held me tight. I was 33 years old.

I told her that I was making some big changes in my life. I outlined for her the size and shape of my dysfunction. She was silent for what felt like a long time. When at last she spoke, it was through a pained smile. “Well,” she said, “you certainly come by it honestly.” 

Del Toro may disagree, but to me the climax of Crimson Peak is the moment Thomas—passive, tormented Thomas—makes the improbable decision to escape with Edith, and his sister, if he can.

THOMAS: We can leave, Lucille, leave Allerdale Hall.

LUCILLE: Leave?

THOMAS: Think about it. We can start a new life.

LUCILLE: Where?

THOMAS: Anywhere. It doesn’t matter.

I won’t claim that Crimson Peak has a happy ending. Lucille dies, and Thomas dies too, horribly; our curses and demons don’t give us up easily. Still, the last moments of Thomas’ life are brave ones, and his fleeting afterlife is expended helping Edith escape. The ghost of Thomas Sharpe bids his wife a loving goodbye—and then, at last, he leaves.

The axe murderer t-shirt eventually went to Goodwill. It wasn’t that my sense of humor matured; if anything, the older I get, the harder that horrible cartoon makes me laugh. What changed was my willingness to dress myself in violence. We can’t control what happens to us, or the stories we’re born into. But we don’t have to live, or die, or kill, inside these bloody houses. We can leave, Lucille. We can leave.

from All Content https://ift.tt/2OPBwe8

[stellacarrierscriptstories]

Stella Carrier Law of Attraction Script Stories 63

    Stella Carrier Law of Attraction Script Stories 63

October 20 2017

Friday October 20 2017 until at least November 17th or November 18 2017

I Stella Carrier Humbly Call Upon What I Imagine To Be The Influence of Benevolent Spirits From the Heavenly Realms, my higher self, and my celestial spirit ally team for creativity in both my writings and all other areas of my life both present and future. I also welcome any and all forms of spiritual assistance and divine intervention in all areas of my life both present and future.

 I Stella Carrier give thanks for the blessing of a sweet and handsome husband who is supportive of my education and career goals for both present and future.

I Stella Carrier feel blessed to be an American born woman who has the freedom to live wherever I desire within the United States regardless of my economic andor career situation.

  December 18, 2017

 I Stella Carrier am thrilled to report that I am contributing and enjoying success beyond my imaginative dreams at my University of Maryland College Park food services job. Many of my customers and coworkers are more than happy with my customer service and application of my food services job. Additionally, the marriage between I Stella Carrier and Rusty Ridler continues to be both close and loving. I Stella Carrier fortunately have a strong connection with my heaven higher self and my heaven spirit ally team in all areas of my life for both present and future. I Stella Carrier am also happy to report my success in saving over 1700 dollars after taxes by this timeframe. Fortunately, I Stella Carrier am also spiritually evolving from both my therapy and volunteer efforts. I Stella Carrier successfully strive to carefully and wisely balance all areas of my life for both present and future-my marriage, my  work life, my fitness goals, my spiritual life, my writing life, my educational pursuits etc.

  December 31 2019

I Stella Carrier am happy to report that I now have over 17000 American dollars after taxes saved. It is a great feeling having this amount in my Bank of America checking and savings accounts. My writing skills are fortunately improving as I Stella Carrier am also generating at least 400 dollars after taxes each month from my creative writing fiction stories. Additionally, I Stella Carrier am successfully tapping into my intuition on a daily basis and I’m in a strong position to give my sweet and loving husband Rusty Ridler at least 200 dollars a month after taxes.

 Resources

Here are the cities that match Amazon's wish list for its second headquarters

 https://www.cnbc.com/2017/09/07/here-are-the-cities-that-match-amazons-wish-list-for-its-second-headquarters.html

https://www.mybobs.com/home-accents/benches/delfina-washed-blue-50-bench-1

popular washington dc area recipes

Washington, D.C. Recipes

 http://allrecipes.com/recipes/1621/us-recipes/us-recipes-by-state/washington-dc/

50 Iconic Dishes in D.C.

 https://dc.eater.com/maps/iconic-dishes-classics-week

40 Things To Eat in DC Before You Die

 https://spoonuniversity.com/place/washington-dc-best-foods

50 THINGS YOU NEED TO EAT IN DC BEFORE YOU DIE

 https://www.thrillist.com/eat/washington-dc/best-things-to-eat-in-washington-dc-food-bucket-list

I admit that I am keeping this article both because it is indirectly related to my food services job at the University of Maryland College Park and for potential creative writing story ideas (fiction genre).

The 40 most essential D.C. restaurant dishes of 2017

 https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/food/40-eats-2017/?utm_term=.cdf3d705e8f8

popular hampton roads virginia area recipes

  Restaurants in Hampton

 https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurants-g57804-Hampton_Virginia.html

I am keeping this article link both for creative storytelling ideas and because it is indirectly related to the type of food I have seen at my food services job at University of Maryland College Park.

We found the creamiest and tastiest mac and cheese in Hampton Roads

·        By Patty Jenkins  The Virginian-Pilot

·        Mar 25, 2016

 https://pilotonline.com/life/flavor/taste-test/we-found-the-creamiest-and-tastiest-mac-and-cheese-in/article_a6f810c0-c6ef-5a98-b960-3be663ff797b.html

Another article I could keep for storytelling ideas. Please know that I am also not telling anybody what to do and I’m intuitively aware that there are multiple options I must utilize to make myself more knowledgeable with more expertise. I admit that I would like to become an expert yet there is much for me to do on that journey. Rather,this article catches my attention both for creative reasons and other reasons influenced by both my intuition and logic.

The best nachos in Hampton Roads tasted and graded

·        By Lorraine Eaton  The Virginian-Pilot

·        Feb 28, 2016

 https://pilotonline.com/life/flavor/taste-test/the-best-nachos-in-hampton-roads-tasted-and-graded/article_e1de49ce-daf7-57e3-ae93-67aae971390e.html

Fortunately, even with the privilege of being an American born woman I actually have a passport. I am glad to have obtained a recent passport back in 2010. Part of me is compelled to wonder if this (the passport rules mentioned in the article just for domestic travel) might set a dangerous precedent of affecting the ease at which Americans citizens from certain states can easily move to other wealthier states for job opportunities within 20 years or less. Fortunately, both my husband and I are blessed with living in an area of good economic opportunities and the other area that I had my eyes on could be accessed via less than a 5 hour greyhound bus trip or a car as it is a 3 hour and a half drive south of the area where we currently live and around 200 miles (fortunately I do have a driver’s license).  However, I am also blessed with a good job in the Washington D.C. area and I am also in the process of choosing wisely where to live for the rest of my current lifetime by the year 2020 even if others may consider me dreaming too big on whatever areas I have in mind for my husband and I to reside long-term. In summary; fortunately even if what this article implies comes out to be true that this would have little effect on a person such as myself. However, I hope that this article is only speculation and just a way to test how many people respond to this online article because putting rules on how easily an American citizen can travel between various states could open a Pandora’s box or slippery slope of unintended controversies in the near future after the measure is implemented.

Why you might need a passport card to travel domestically in 2018

Brittany Jones-Cooper

Reporter

 https://finance.yahoo.com/news/might-need-passport-card-travel-domestically-2018-141115032.html?hl=1&noRedirect=1

I have to admit that Cindy Arboleda shares some motivational articles that spark curiosity. Peja Jordan and Shamari Whitfield are clearly motivated, ambitious, and driven. Naturally it is easy to see that both women have a bright future ahead of them. The fact that Jenise Stowers, an aunt of Peja Jordan, shows support also bodes well for the present and future of the Lil Girls’s Glam Party Bus. I say this because yes I’m intuitively and logically aware that you have to believe in yourself and always be emotionally resilient regardless of how many people in your immediate environment believe in you. However, the fact that a family member of Peja Jordan is giving support also adds an important dimension of spiritual and emotional encouragement as a powerful buffer through both challenging and good times.

Two teens, one amazing business: A party glam bus for girls 4-12

By Cindy Arboleda

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/%E2%80%A8two-teens-one-amazing-business-party-glam-bus-girls-4-12-190913193.html

 I am fortunate to have come across this article and spotted some information similar to this in a Washington Post article yesterday referencing Canada and another article Washington Post article today pertaining to potential cities for Amazon headquarters. Obviously, as with other people I have ideas of areas that Amazon would be ideal for basing their second headquarters at. What I do want to say is that an ideal area that Amazon parks its headquarters would be one with a strong military andor government presence-regardless of the U.S. State that Jeff Bezos goes with for the obvious reason that military and federal government employees would spend their dollars at businesses that benefit private sector workers/minimum wage employees (due to the company of  Amazon being a private sector employer).

Amazon Headquarters Race Has Cities Battling for Bid

By Yahoo View

https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/amazon-headquarters-race-cities-battling-045333039.html

Writer Danielle Wiener -Bronner is both persuasive and well-meaning with this article as I am blessed with an amazing boss, great managers, and ambitious coworkers. Additionally both my boss and managers are considerate in granting me certain days off from time to time if it would help boost my morale such as for my birthday off request to get some time with my sweet and incredible husband. However, Bronner is overlooking that many people pursuing a 2nd degree or graduate degree intuitively see what can happen in the far future-unless they get more schooling. However, in Bronner's defense, this actually makes up my mind even more to get more schooling as I was actually pondering this subject some more prior to coming across this article. When I speak of the future in this context I mean 25 years or less from this year.

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/m/ee59fbd0-2c39-3604-878d-751631e99e6d/ss_when-does-it-make-financial.html

 When does it make financial sense to get a graduate degree?

 by Danielle Wiener-Bronner   @dwbronner

http://money.cnn.com/2017/10/19/pf/grad-school-worth-it/index.html

Some of the recipes that look delicious from the slide pictures from Delish; Garlic butter potatoes horizontal, Rosemary Roasted Potatoes,Cheesy Baked Asparagus, Cauliflower mac and cheese, Caesar Angel Hair, loaded cauliflower bake, cauliflower tots, cheesy scalloped zucchini, loaded scalloped potatoes, parmesan potato casserole, watermelon caprese, broccoli cheddar twice baked potatoes (use some of the broccoli I cooked this week), The 51 Most Delish Side Dishes

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/50-most-delish-side-dishes-205104075.html

I admit that I ordered Michelle Obama's latest kindlebook and pre-ordered former President Obama's book that is coming out November 7 by this photographer and I believe that Michelle Obama probably already knows about these letters and is accepting of the letters referenced

'My Love Is Rich and Plentiful': Barack Obama's Intimate Letters to College Girlfriend Are Made Public by People

 https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/love-rich-plentiful-barack-obamas-intimate-letters-college-girlfriend-made-public-151133387.html

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/5-things-know-anna-fariss-new-romance-michael-barrett-172025319.html

Regardless of whether I am in the minority or majority of my sentiment I would have to say that it is a good thing that former President Obama is getting himself politically involved in the political race of Virginia governor for Ralph Northam. This is especially because the state of Virginia has both close proximity to the Washington D.C. area and one of the largest military presences in the United States (the Hampton Roads Virginia area) made up of a diverse population of voters from various backgrounds.

Obama makes a plea to Virginians and signals a way forward for Democrats

By Jon Ward

https://www.yahoo.com/news/obama-makes-plea-virginians-signals-way-forward-democrats-014148422.html

Pandora

Just Like Heaven by the Cure

The Scientist by Coldplay

  Storytelling idea

Beverly Hills High School

Take Me Down by Alabama

Intuition by DJ Encore

A Horse With No Name by America

You Can Do Magic by America

Eye of the Tiger by Survivor

Learning to Fly by Tom Petty

Amazon music storytelling shuffle mode

I Am The Bullgod by Kid Rock

Pumpkin Soup by Kate Nash

West End Girls by Pet Shop Boys

Drink Up by Train

Babycake by 3 of A Kind

Love etc. (Pet Shop Boys mix)

Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift

There’s Nothin Holdin Me Back by Shawn Mendes

Sky by Sonique

Ecstasy (Original Airplay Mix) by ATB

   more resources

 part 3 resources

I understand that I already posted these yet I admit that I am following my intuition and logic to post these again in both the career stories and scripts for towards the end affirmations and resources

Affirmations

Each Day I am in the process of improving upon creating heaven on earth for myself and my husband in all areas of my life both present and future as well as for the highest and greatest good for everyone involved.

I Stella Carrier am in the process of balancing my earthly concerns with areas pertaining to my celestial/spiritual growth as they intersect with my pursuit and intent to tap into the essence of wisdom and my genius abilities in all areas of my life both present and future.

I Stella Carrier enjoy the blessings of my imaginative abilities, intuition, creativity, and my gift of resourcefulness all increasing each day in all areas of my life both present and future.Affirmations I am creating heaven on earth. I am learning to be in the right place at the right time at all times. I am learning to live all areas of my life in alignment with my divine life purpose for both the present and future My psychic/intuitive abilities, creativity/imaginative abilities, and my ability to tap into my wisdom are expanding each and every day. https://www.orindaben.com/pages/rooms/affirmations_room/ I am a healer through my words, thoughts, and deeds. I am aware of the messages my guide is sending me. I receive impressions from my soul and higher self. I am magnetic to my higher good and it is magnetic to me.

Celestial Intuitive Insights

Goal; aim for 6 miles per day and writing 5 times a week time limit one hour and 30 minutes, resource gathering 15 minutes max- one hour and 45 minutes max minimum half hour and minimum 2 minute resource blogging, eat first and then write,  writing twice a week away from blog, public blog writing at least 4 times a week and maximum of 7 times a week

 Schedule them persistence is imaginative and intuitive key

Other things for me to keep in mind

Eat first thing in the morning ideally at home

Male playlist-akon beautiful

Carry pictures of my body inspirations around

Using the career process book my friend gave me

Year 2024 or later

Classroom party setting

Allow delay or writing today but create tomorrow the following writings

What I did do right

Intuitive insights

 Sleeptime inspired/waking life storytelling ideas