#and my sisters murder mystery party is later today i have to dress up as a victorian lady named starr dangerfield | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunlit-squid · 3 years

Note

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

#sbsp #my fics #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #spongeward #spongebob #squidward #ask #asks #sunlit-squid

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch 14)

Chapter 14

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count:

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

(smut is alluded to in this chapter, so I apologize to any family members who may be reading this👀)

Once everyone had arrived at the mansion, Taehyung called them all into the dining room, where he had laid out a beautiful Christmas feast. There was a beef roast on one end and a ham on the other end. Between the two were potatoes, greens, fresh bread, fruit garnishes and jams, and an assortment of other sides.

“Tae tae! You really outdid yourself today!” Hoseok exclaimed as he pulled a chair out for his mother. His mother was in her seventies, a tiny and soft-spoken woman. Hoseok’s sister sat beside their mother. Catalina was only briefly introduced to them, only to learn their names and thank his mother for the necklace, so she made sure to sit across from them. Jungkook took the seat beside her.

“I want to ask them if they know anything about Hobi’s past,” Catalina whispered to him. He nodded.

“That’s a good idea,” said Jungkook. “He’s always been a bit suspicious to me. I mean, we’re surrounded by these ancient vampires who had no problems telling us about all the people they’ve killed in the past, but I’m honestly most worried about him. If Yoongi could tell his story, why can’t Hoseok?”

“Exactly,” said Catalina. “That’s what I was thinking.”

Once everyone was settled at the table and most of the dishes had made the rounds, Catalina looked over at Hoseok’s sister, whose name was Jiwoo, she remembered.

“So, I heard Hoseok’s been telling you two about us,” said Catalina. “I hope all good things.”

“Of course, all good things!” Jiwoo laughed. “He’s been gushing about his new friends non-stop. Every time he visits, he tells us about some new adventure. He said you and Jimin are really good dancers.”

“We’re really good at ballet,” said Catalina. “But Hoseok tried to teach us his style and we kind of sucked.”

“I’m sure he didn’t fare any better in ballet,” Jiwoo said.

“Not really,” Catalina said with a wide smile. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. “So, I’m curious. How much has Hoseok told you about how he was turned?”

Jiwoo pressed her lips into a thin line, then said, “Honestly, not much. I know the entire experience took a huge toll on him and he had to drop out of college because of it. We’ve asked him about it many times, but he never seems to want to talk about. I think it’s painful for him to bring up the memory.”

“Oh,” Catalina looked over at Hoseok, who was laughing hysterically at a story Jimin was telling. She tried to imagine what he went through that made him so unwilling to share his story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, the party retired to the ballroom, which definitely was a room Catalina didn’t know existed until now. She wondered how big this house actually was. She dreamed of just wandering around and exploring one day. Yoongi was sat at the grand piano at the end of the ballroom and began playing. Catalina knew he didn’t eat at dinner, she wondered if he was just waiting to come in here and play piano.

The ballroom wasn’t huge; it was the perfect size for a party like this. Crystal chandeliers lit the room and the music filled the air. Namjoon, his professor friend, Jiwoo, Jimmy K and Jin sat at the lounge in the corner of the room to chat, Jimin pulled a giggling Taehyung onto the dancefloor to dance, and Hoseok pulled his mother onto the floor to dance.

“May I?”

Catalina turned around. Jungkook was holding out his hand, a smile on his face. Catalina grinned and took his hand. He led her out to the dance floor and took her waist, pulling her closer.

Even after two dates and several weeks of officially dating, Jungkook still managed to make her blush when he held her close like this.

“I love this dress on you,” he said as they swayed to the music.

“Thank you,” said Catalina. “I had some inside information on you when I bought this. I heard you have a thing for red.”

“I do,” he said as he led her into a spin. “Did Jimin tell you?”

Catalina nodded and leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

“Just wait until you see what I’m wearing underneath.”

She heard his breath catch before he pulled her even closer. They glided across the floor, turning and swaying to the beat. When the song ended, Catalina felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Jimmy K asked Jungkook.

“I did promise to save him a dance,” said Catalina. She knew Jungkook wasn’t the jealous type, so she wasn’t surprised when he laughed and said, “Sure, why not?”

Jungkook left with a smile and a lingering hand on her bare back. Jimmy K swept her into a waltz as the next song began. She watched Jungkook take a seat by Namjoon, eyeing her with a dreamy smile on his face.

“You’ve got that boy completely wrapped around your finger,” said Jimmy K. Catalina giggled.

“I know,” she said. “Well, he’s got me too.”

“I can see that,” said Jimmy K. “I saw the little gift you left on his neck.”

Catalina laughed loudly at that and said, “You know what he said to me? He said, ‘you should get a collar for me next time’.”

Jimmy K raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh, that would make things interesting.”

“Certainly,” said Catalina. “I have my work cut out for me.”

“You can handle it,” said Jimmy K. “You’re a very capable woman.”

“Jimmy K, if you keep flirting with me all the time, you’re going to turn Jungkook into a jealous mess,” said Catalina. Jimmy K chuckled.

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I just have a flirty personality I guess. But I will stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I just find it flattering,” said Catalina. “You’d have to ask Jungkook about it.”

“I saw you interrogating Hoseok’s sister at dinner,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “I’m assuming you were trying to get some information on that suspicious bugger.”

“Yeah, ‘trying’ being the key word there,” Catalina said with a sigh. Jimmy K lifted his arm to spin her, then led her into a gliding sidestep and turn. “She barely knew more than we do. The most useful thing she told me was that the experience was supposedly very difficult for him and its painful for him to talk about.”

“Well, he could have just said that,” said Jimmy K. “Here I was thinking he was some kind of spy or he had some kind of murderous backstory.”

“Yeah, same here,” said Catalina. “It still doesn’t answer any questions, but at least it takes a little bit of suspicion off of him.”

“Well, if he ever goes off the rails and takes a nasty turn on you all, just give me a call,” said Jimmy K.

“What, are you some kind of vampire slayer?” asked Catalina, letting him drop her into a dip. “Why do you know so much about vampires and their history and stuff?”

Jimmy K winked and said, “That’s for me to know, darling, and you to find out.”

Catalina smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Ah, the mysterious, ruggedly handsome Jimmy K,” Catalina said, pretending to swoon.

“That’s right,” Jimmy K said with a smirk.

As the song ended, Catalina and Jimmy K parted ways. Catalina joined Jungkook at the lounge, sitting on the armrest of his chair. She draped her arm over his shoulder and gazed down at him. He was listening to Namjoon and Dr. Carlisle talk, but looked up at Catalina when she sat.

“What are you guys talking about?” she asked. Jungkook just smiled up at her and shrugged.

“I don’t really know,” he said. “Something scientific. How was your dance?”

“Heh, let me tell you, Jimmy K is a very mysterious individual,” she said, then leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I’ll tell you what he said later.”

“Please Yoongi-hyung! Do it for me!” Taehyung’s voice caught their attention across the ballroom. He was sitting on the piano bench beside Yoongi, begging him with big eyes and interlocked fingers. Yoongi seemed to let out a deep sigh, as his shoulders continued to sink for several seconds. That seemed to satisfy Taehyung, whose face lit up. He leapt from the bench and went to the wall where he adjusted the lighting to be a bit dimmer. Jimin watched all of this from the center of the dance floor as everyone else cleared away, retreating to the lounge.

Catalina’s eyebrows rose as Taehyung laid across the top of the grand piano. Yoongi began playing and Catalina recognized the tune immediately. To her surprise, Taehyung’s singing voice somehow fit the song beautifully, serenading an overly dramatic version of “A Thousand Miles”. Jimin doubled over laughing as Taehyung serenaded him, sliding off the piano and miming holding a microphone as he approached. Taehyung grabbed Jimin’s hands and led him into a dance as best he could with Jimin laughing so hard, face beet red. Taehyung’s smooth voice led the dramatic, slightly silly performance through the rest of the song. Once it ended, everyone stood up and applauded, Taehyung taking his bows. Jimin stood beside him, covering his face and still giggling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. Carlisle left, along with Jin, Jimmy K, and Hoseok’s sister and mother. Catalina didn’t let them leave without trying to return the necklace, but she told her to hold onto it until next time. After thanking her profusely and watching them all out the door, the group went to one of the bigger lounges. Taehyung served coffee and tea and Hoseok and Namjoon brought in gifts – two thick envelopes decorated with bows.

“You guys didn’t have to get anything!” Jimin exclaimed.

“It’s nothing big,” said Namjoon. “Just tokens really. We haven’t had many friends outside of this house in a long time.”

“But we don’t have anything for you guys,” said Jungkook.

“You guys are broke college students!” Hoseok said. “Save your money!”

They laughed and finally let Namjoon hand a big envelope to Catalina.

“This is kind of from all of us,” he said. “It’s for you and Jungkook.”

Catalina opened the envelope and pulled out several things. A packet of paper depicted pictures of a beautiful forest in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, with waterfalls and trails. It advertised a beautiful cabin, rustic and modern. After reading the front page, she realized what it was.

“Reservations?” she said. “What is this?”

“Look what else is in there,” said Namjoon.

There were two other slips of paper behind the packet. Round trip plane tickets. To Detroit, Michigan. For the week of Christmas. Catalina’s jaw dropped. Jungkook took the packet from her and flipped through it with wide eyes.

“Namjoon, this is too much,” Catalina said.

“Well, it’s from all of us,” said Hoseok. “But it was mostly his idea.”

“The reservation is for the week after Christmas,” said Jungkook.

“So you can spend the first week with your mom,” said Namjoon.

“Oooh! That’s why you asked me if I was spending the holiday with my family,” Jungkook exclaimed.

“You’re not?” Catalina asked. Jungkook shook his head.

“I mean, my brother is coming home and we’re having dinner with my parents a few days before Christmas,” he said. “Which you’re invited to, if you want. I know we’ve only been dating for a short time but…”

“I’d love to go,” she said. “We’ve known each other for a while now and I’ve only seen your parents in passing. I haven’t even met your brother at all.”

“And then it looks like the day after our dinner, we would leave for this,” said Jungkook.

“Namjoon, all of you, thank you so much,” said Catalina. “This is so generous.”

“Yeah, this is really awesome,” said Jungkook. “Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem,” said Namjoon.

Taehyung then handed the other envelope to Jimin and said, “Open mine next, Jiminie.”

Jimin opened the envelope and gasped.

“It’s not until summer, and I understand if you don’t want to, because I know you’re wary around us, as you should be, but I’ve always wanted to try camping and I hear it’s really pretty there…”

“Taehyungie,” Jimin interrupted. His eyes were glittering with tears. “I would love to go with you. This looks beautiful.”

“Really?” Taehyung said. “You’re not afraid to travel with me?”

Jimin shook his head and stood up to hug Taehyung tight. “My lovely Taehyungie. I could never be afraid of you.”

When they broke apart, both of them wiping their eyes, Jimin sat back down and said, “Can’t say the same for the rest of you. Jungkook, Cat, I’m talking about you too.”

Everyone laughed and Jimin said, “Haha, yeah laugh it up. You guys are insane. Sneaking into a vampire den without telling anyone. The fact that you made it out alive is an honest to God miracle.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After cleaning up the party, Taehyung invited the three humans to stay the night if they wanted to, since it was already past midnight. Catalina and Jungkook explored a bit before choosing a guest room on the third floor, far away from everyone else. When Jimin asked them where their room was, Jungkook threw him an exaggerated wink and nothing else. Jimin had almost fallen over laughing.

Their room was big and dark. Thick blackout curtains covered the huge window against the right wall. The four-poster bed looked antique, with twisting posts and sheer curtains around it. The thick carpet was a relief under Catalina’s feet once she took off her heels.

“What did you and Jimmy K talk about?” Jungkook asked as he toed off his own shoes.

“Oh right. He asked about my conversation with Jiwoo,” said Catalina. “I told him what she said, and then Jimmy K insinuated that he may be some kind of vampire slayer.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, he said something like, ‘If Hoseok ever hurts anyone, just give me a call’,” said Catalina.

“That’s so mysterious,” said Jungkook. “He knew about Alexandria the Annihilator too, which means he’s more familiar with vampire history than any of us.”

“Exactly,” said Catalina.

“Hm… well, we don’t have to talk about Jimmy K anymore,” Jungkook said, sidling closer to Catalina. “Thinking about what you’re wearing under this has been keeping me distracted all night.”

~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, Catalina woke up before him. She went to the big window and opened the curtains, letting the sunlight stream into the room. The golden rays fell across the bed, bathing Jungkook in the morning light. Catalina admired her work from where she was standing; hickeys decorated his neck, chest, and thighs, and lipstick still stained his skin. His hair was tousled and his face was peaceful. Gorgeous. He was absolutely beautiful. Catalina couldn’t believe how lucky she was.

He said he loves me, Catalina thought with a dopey smile on her face, recalling the way he mumbled it into her skin last night, half asleep. I love this boy. So much.

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conaionaru · 4 years

Text

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

For every mother, every child, every brother

Synopsis: Everybody fins out what happened. Ivar loses his mind and plans to murder everybody in Kattegat till Vanya and his son show up.

Warnings: Ivar, Silas, mentions of murder, mentions of child murder, angst, drowning

Tags:

@youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @shannygoatgruff @lol-haha-joke @heavenly1927

Ivar sat on his father's throne, glaring at the ground, lost in thoughts. Ever since the night his son was born, he hadn't slept. He looked dead outside as he felt inside. His eyes were hollow, surrounded by dark circles, his hair was matted to his head from sweat and sticking out in some places from always running his fingers through it. His eyes are extremely blue, and his legs hurt like Hel.

But he couldn't sleep, wash or do anything else but curse his stupidity. He should have stayed in the hut, like he wanted to, the Ragnarsson shouldn't have listened to the healer and stayed by his wife's and son's side. But he was stupid and went to the Hall to celebrate with his brothers and the people.

Ivar returned to their hut in the morning only to find it empty. His wife and son gone, together with the healer. He threw a tantrum, screamed, cursed both himself and the gods. That's how Ubbe found him, trashing his home with the carved figure of Fenrir in his hand covered by the specks of blood that Vanya left behind during labor.

His brothers had to drag him out of the hut, scoring a few hits to their faces in the process. Hvitserk's left eye is not swollen shut, and Sigurd flinches every time he moves his torso too fast. Yet it did nothing to Ivar's state of mind. Aslaug and Ubbe stayed by his side, trying to get him to eat, drink, and sleep. But the youngest Ragnarsson was deaf to their words.

All he could hear was the last words Vanya told him. "Fuck you." It was said in the mids of their child's painful birth. She was in pain, and he took it with humor, and now it would be the last words that left her lips. If he had known that her tired, happy smile would be the last time he would see her, he would have stayed. He should have laid by her side, holding their perfect son, and watched her sleep.

Now all he ha left of her were clothes, the fading smell, and the necklace he gave her. She hadn't even worn it, and now it was one of the last things to remember her by. After Aslaug and Ubbe force-fed him, he busied himself, cleaning the wooden Fenrir from her blood. It looked like new, but he still saw the bloodstains on it.

Bjorn and the rest of his brothers created a search party, trying to find them, or their bodies. Ubbe only stayed behind in case he got violent again, but he felt numb, hollow. Floki wanted to reassure him that Vanya maybe just needed fresh air and got lost, but they both knew it was wishful thinking. Vanya was probably dead and their newborn with her.

Ivar hated himself so much; he wanted to rip his hair out and murder everyone in the kingdom. Starting with the healer who sent him away, when they found her, of course, then he would burn the man who asked him to stay at the feast longer to celebrate with them. The slaughter will then follow with anyone who could have seen or heard her, no matter if they did. And anyone who would stop him would follow. Expect his brothers and mother; they would search harder to sate his anger.

"Ivar." The blue eyes Viking looked up to see Bjorn walking to him with a grim look on his face. "Two farmers found the healer in the stalls."

"Well, then bring her here!" He spat back, but Aslaug watched Bjorn with a frown. He didn't look happy with the information he gave them.

Bjor sighed and shook his head. "She is dead, Ivar. Someone slit her throat and hid her in the straw."

"Brynja and Margrethe found bloodstains on the ground when they cleaned the hut as well," Sigurd announced, walking into the Hall. "They were by the door; someone tried to clean them."

Aslaug watched the sons of Ragnar crowded in the room, the silence in the room growing thicker. It was clear now; someone killed the healer and his her body. Which meant they wanted to kill Vanya and the child as well.

"Were all of the knights here during the feast?" The Queen asked, looking them over, but Hvitserk nodded.

He mentioned for the thralls by the door, that covered before Ivar in fear. He hit one of them when they poured his cup, so now they kept clear of him. "The thralls counted them—six men dressed in armor during the whole night. Silas was here as well; he didn't leave his seat at all."

Ivar scoffed at the information and dug his nails into the armrest. Aslaug put her hand on top of his, but he wrenched it away, ignoring her hurt expression. He had more pressing matters to attend to than heading his mother's feelings; somebody tried to kill his family. And they may have succeeded, and he had no one to blame.

Silas changed his clothes into some older ones, more fit for searching for his sister. Stithulf sat by the table, watching another knight clean his sword from the healer's blood. The bitch put up a fight and tried to kill the knight. But he got the upper hand and cut her neck open instead, which wasn't the plan. He was supposed to knock her out and pin the murder of the Princess and little Prince on her. A scrape goat they could all hide behind.

"Search wherever they tell you to look, steer clear of the water. It would be suspicious if you discovered the floating boat. The longer it takes them to find my nephew, the better. He will either freeze or starve." Silas ordered tying the neckline of his tunic. Stithulf huffed and downed his cup of wine.

"We should leave. We would survive and would be safer in Slegia. Could blame the heathens for the murders and declare war on them with Eckbert's help." He argued before glaring at the cleaning knight on his right. "If you just did what you were told! And cover that bruise on your neck, you idiot! You fucked up, enough, Pæga !"

The knight frowned at that and straightened his back in defense, not liking the tone the younger knight took used against him. "The pagan tried to claw my eye out and woke the Princess! What was I supposed to do when she wanted to strangle me, boy? Thank her and then rip the babies head off and kill its mother? I am a knight, not a monster."

"You are a useless tool, that's what you are. I gave you the most important job, Pæga. And you messed it up. I should have beheaded you with the rest of Father's old guards. But I kept you alive, and this is how you repay my mercy. Count yourself lucky if you survive the journey back home. Pretend to mourn and search for the corpses of my sister and her child!" Silas spat at them and marched towards the door. When he left the hut with his knights in tow, a shiver shook his body. The air was cold, and clouds covered the sky.

The pagans believed that their gods mourned the Princess's disappearance; they prayed to their false deities for her survival. Fools the lot of them, not even God can save her now, she drowned in the cold water of their homeland and left her child to starve on the boat. Or maybe crows will peck out its eyes and feast on his insides. Whatever end his nephew would meet, Silas needed to look sad. He pretended that he lost sleep over her disappearance instead of having the best rest of his life. Last time he slept this good, his father died.

"Come to the Great Hall! The Queen and the Ragnarssons have something to say." Called out a thrall as the people crowded outside the Great Hall and waited for the news. The ones who were searching the hills and forests would be informed later.

Silas walked by Stithulf's side with a fake grim look on his face. Inside they both celebrated their victory. Stithulf did tell Vanya that Silas needed to be the only option for King. He just didn't voice that murder was the way to achieve it. She paid the price with her and her son's blood. The ginger was the sacrifice needed to raise Silas higher. The bards would sing songs of her horrid "accident" for a few years and sing praises of Silas the Great until the end of times. And Stithulf would be mentioned in every song by name. Sir Stithulf, the Loyal, most trusted man in his king's court. He was so trusted he would be named the heir after Silas died, which by the number of enemies he made for himself wouldn't be too long.

All the knight had to do was support Siflæd's marriage, which put an end to Sila's engagement, leaving the King with no heir. A few more foiled betrothals like this one and Silas would give up hope and name him his successor. Any children Siflæd might sire with Ceolmund would "mysteriously" die, and he would be the only to option left. He deserves a reward for putting up with Silas.

"Dear people of Kattegat, as you know, Princess Vanya and her son have gone missing. The healer who stayed by her bedside was found today, dead. Someone cut her throat and hid her body in the stables, which means that someone planned to murder them. We must recover Vanya and the child soon. The weather is getting colder, and neither was dressed for the cold." Bjorn announced to the people who muttered between themselves their faces twisted in worry.

The good Princess was gone and her child with her, leaving behind her bloodthirsty husband, which meant nothing good for any of them, innocent or otherwise. "People of Kattegat!" Ivar cried out, crawling out of the Hall, tired of listening to Bjorn.

Aslaug runs after him trying to keep him quiet, but Ivar was determined to speak. "You all loved my wife; she fed you and cared for you. And now she needs your help. You all prayed for them to survive, not even a day ago. And now, my son and wife are in danger." He watched the crowd with calculating eyes, ignoring his aching legs, he had more important things to do. Prove a point and rescue his family.

"Somebody attacked Vanya and our child while they slept, an unarmed woman who just gave birth and a newborn child! We will find them, and I swear to you in their names that the culprit will pay. The worse state they are found, the more painful the killer's death will be! Hired sellsword, assassin, or whoever you might be..." He paused to let the words sink in. The crowd rioted, agreeing with his hateful rant. He leaned closer to them and clenched his jaw. "I'm going to fucking murder you."

The folks cheered while his brothers stood behind him, frowning at the threats he made. They agreed that whoever did it must die; everybody did, but Ivar's speech was different. He was unhinged, and it was surprising that nobody was killed by his hand yet.

The crowd scattered as they searched the town, shores, forests, and hills. Ivar stayed in his spot outside watching everybody leave while only his mother and Ubbe remained. He saw Brynja run by with furs in her arms if she found Vanya, the servant was a mess just like him, and that reassured him. At least he wasn't the only one losing sleep over her.

The Ragnarsson could hear some praying for their wellbeing. Ivar prayed as well, all the times he begged the gods so his child wouldn't be like him, and they answered. They gave him a healthy son and let Vanya survive the birth. Only to take them both away when he turned his back. How cruel they were to him, they took his legs, father, and now wife and son. He remained true to them all the time, seventeen years of worshiping them just like Floki taught him. And they took everything from him; they let him find love only to rip it away when he was happy.

A man walked the streets of Kattegat hidden under his grey cloak and hood with a sword strapped to his side. He watched the people run by searching for something, but moved out of their way and made his way into the Great Hall. He looked at the tall building and frowned at the tense atmosphere that surrounded it.

"I stand by my word, Brother! I will kill whoever is responsible!" Ivar hissed his breath fanning against Ubbe's face. But the older Ragnarsson didn't even flinch. Meanwhile, Aslaug poured herself another cup. She needed something to distract herself, or she would go crazy. The gods aren't answering her prayers; they won't give her a vision either. She blamed herself, Vanya saw her demise, she begged Aslaug to protect her son. And she dismissed her worries for delusion.

"All I am saying is that you should watch what you say, Ivar. I am not saying that they won't die. But killing everyone isn't going to solve anything."

"I am going to sacrifice them to the gods so they will bring them back! That's more than you are doing!" The sleep-deprived heathen spat back, throwing his brother's cup to the floor as a thrall run to clean the mess. "Might as well go and fuck the slave you all share."

Ubbe shook his head and pushed anything ivar might throw away from his reach. "I am making sure you don't go around murdering people and don't die before Vanya is found. If you think that I don't care, then you are mistaken. She might not have been my wife or the mother of my child, but I loved her nonetheless. She deserved better than having people slaughtered in her name."

Ivar scoffed at the words and leaned back in his chair by the fire. "I am looking for Princess Vanya!" A voice announced from the door. The Queen and her oldest and youngest sons looked at the intruder.

"And what does a wanderer want with her?" Aslaug questioned, climbing to her feet and walking towards the stranger that she felt she knew. He seemed familiar.

The man looked at her with his emotionless face. "The gods will. I am sure she must have mentioned me. The man in the fire, and the meadow."

Ivar scoffed and glared at him in disdain and anger. Rolling his eyes, he downed his mother's cup of ale. "You are the man from her dreams, then?" Aslaug's eyes widened, looking him over, better. The painted face and dark worn cloak with the sword at his side. Vanya dreamt of him so often and mentioned him to her; she almost felt like she had visions of him herself. The man nodded at the sarcastic question.

"And what's your name?" Ubbe asked, not believing the man at all. Yet the wanderer ignored the mistrust and answered honestly.

"Hoenir, after the God of Silence." He explained, looking at them with void eyes, waiting for the Princess to show up. "The Gods spoke to me and told me to find Vanya, to protect her."

Ivar glared at the wanderer and slammed his fist against the table, making the thralls jump in fright. "You failed already. My wife and our child were attacked while they slept. Their bodies aren't found."

Hoenir watched the prince fume and frowned. He didn't like the answer; he had been traveling from his home for months, and now the one he was supposed to protect is probably dead. "Are you sure she is dead? I dreamt I would meet her here, looking like a Valkyrie."

Ivar scoffed at that, while Aslaug asked him to help search for Vanya. He agreed and walked towards the coast, watching the waves his the shores of his new home. The sea was empty, and despite the dark weather, was it calm as a storm was brewing but not yet ready to destroy everything in its path.

Far away from the city on a small boat, a little child whined, hidden under a red shield embedded with seven arrows. The babe silently cried from his bed of fishing nets, waiting for somebody to pick him up. But no one listened to his delicate calls, only the ravens flying over the boat croaking but never swooping down to see what's on the ship.

Everything else was silent as the dark storm clouds gathered on the sky, hiding the sun from view. The waves softly hit the side of the vessel filled with a barrel of mead and apples. The child whined loud it's little hands reaching for the sharp arrowheads above his head.

A hand rose from the water; the fingers pale with a blue undertone. It clutched the side of the boat in a death grip. Next emerged a head of wet red locks and pale blue eyes with blue lips. The woman carefully hauled herself aboard the vessel and collapsed on her back, the whining child on her right side. She gasped and coughed up water watching the blackbirds circle the sky. Her eyes slowly closed, giving in to the desire to sleep while her hungry child cried next to her. But she was too exhausted to let alone breathe. She spent so much time under the water, sticking her nose out for air and holding onto the boat from below, steering it away from the knights' eyes. Her muscles screamed in protest while the arrow sticking from her shoulder throbbed in pain. With a sigh, she let the darkness consume her.

#vikings #history vikings #vikings imagine #ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson #original character #original female character

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cultofbeatles · 4 years

Text

beginners guide to the beatles

made one of these a long time ago but i'm surprised by how short it was. so here we go again. doing it right this time lol.

pov: you told a bad joke and now the beatles are judging you.

john winston lennon. later in his life known as john winston ono lennon.

born on october 9, 1940

i believe in astrology bc how does john just happen to be a libra

when john was four he started living with his aunt mimi who acted more as his mother figure

his mother, julia, remarried and would visit him quite a bit.

it was julia who taught john how to play banjo and piano. and she bought his first guitar.

they both had a deep love for music and rock n roll

he never really thought of her as his mother but more as a cool friend i suppose

aunt mimi was more rough on him and did the disciplining

his father was never really present growing up and his uncle passed away when he was young

he thought he was a curse for the men in his family

he had five half siblings. two of them, julia and jacqueline, he was pretty close to. the other three he barely knew.

fashion icon.

hated school but loved art

very early on he was insecure with himself

teachers always shit on him and said he would go nowhere in life

he met paul at a church fete on july 6, 1957

paul taught him how to play guitar properly.

once told paul that he didnt know how paul carried on after his mother died bc he just didn't think he could do it

john’s mother died from being hit by an off duty policemen. john was seventeen at the time.

he took her death really hard and became a bit of a recluse.

first serious relationship was with cynthia (we stan her)

once cynthia cut her hair short and he didn't talk to her for two days.

hate men. kill all men.

when he asked her to dance at a party she turned him down saying that she was engaged, and so he said “well i didn't ask you to fucking marry me, did i?”

slapped her once bc he was drunk and another boy was talking to her.

only time her hit her.

read cynthia’s books about john pls. i beg.

once a psychic told him that he would be shot in the states.

founder of the beatles and also came up with the name.

instruments he could play: guitar, harmonica, rhythm guitar, banjo, keyboard, piano, saxophone, bass guitar, and a little drums.

main songwriter in the beatles along with paul.

was more open minded to change in the beatles music.

was insecure in his relationship with paul after a while bc he thought he only needed him for songwriting.

would bitch about paul all day long but the second anyone else said something about him he’d be on their ass.

had a lot of issues and needed a good hug.

suffered from eating disorders, drug addictions, depression, insecurities, and questioned his sexuality bc of the time.

was super open minded and ahead of his time in many instances.

once he was called “the fat beatle�� and after that he stopped eating as much.

truly loved his first son, julian lennon, and would buy him presents all the time bc he was excited to see him play with them.

“your famous ex husband”

he enjoyed playing monopoly.

he once claimed that he saw a ufo.

he had written three books but he always wanted to write a children's book.

the last song he ever performed in front of a live audience was “i saw her standing there.” with elton john.

he was afraid of the dark.

found out later in his life that he was dyslexic.

was also legally blind without glasses.

never could catch a break huh.

said that his best lyric ever was “all you need is love” i agree.

the first time yoko and john met was not at her art exhibit but actually when she approached him about giving away songs for free.

wanted to write a musical with paul.

once a friend dared him to masturbate ten times in one day and he managed to do it nine times.

would hold circle jerks with paul and a few other friends.

just dudes being dudes.

went on a holiday with brian epstein, who was gay, and told some people afterward that they did certain sexual things. but we will never know for sure.

yoko says that john was bisexual.

once in an interview he said that he would of married a rich man or woman if he wasn't in the beatles.

hated his voice on records. would always ask for effects on his voice for final recordings.

made a film with yoko where it was just his penis going from flaccid to erect for fifteen minutes in slow motion.

only beatle not to of become a vegetarian while he was alive.

murdered on december 8, 1980.

gave his autograph earlier in the day to the man who would murder him.

died at the age of 40.

“all my loving” was played while he was at the hospital.

and its spooky bc a lot of times in interviews he would say “when i'm 40..”

and it’s sad bc he was finally becoming who he truly wanted to be.

honorable john moments that i love:

“thanks for the purpler hearts” he says while receiving the silver heart

“you are the first person from liverpool that i've ever seen” “great”

eric lennon on my mind today

this come together performance where he messed up the lyrics lol

that interview where paul was sick and john keep checking on him

john lennon speaking nothing but facts

when he said that he could see the beatles going separate ways but that they'd always come back together.

SHUT UP

“shut up while he’s talking..”

this interview breaks my heart sometimes

and this interview is great as well

sir james paul mccartney

born on june 18, 1942

if you ever have spare time just check out this man’s natal chart.

idk how he’s still alive with his chart tbh.

he has a younger brother named mike and a step sister named ruth.

his dad thought he was the ugliest baby he’d ever seen when he was born.

when he was young paul would kill frogs in a way to prepare himself for the war if he ever was drafted.

the first instrument he ever learned to play was the trumpet.

I don't even want to list every instrument this man can play but trust me when I say it’s a lot.

but for the beatles he mainly did bass, vocals, and piano. sometimes playing the guitar and the drums.

the beatles was just paul moving really, really fast.

he lost his mother when he was 14 due to surgery for breast cancer.

never really learned how to cope well with loss of a loved one tbh.

had the cutest chubby cheeks as a kid tbh

met john and was accepted into his band

sometimes they'd ditch school together and either work on music or would visit art galleries.

went to paris with john and john bought him all the banana milkshakes that he wanted.

connected over their love and admiration for music, and bc they had both lost their mothers.

had a girlfriend’s mom who he would make comb his leg hairs.

was an ass to his first girlfriend.

kill all men again.

almost had to marry his girlfriend dot bc she was pregnant, but she ended up losing the baby.

was the one who introduced george harrison to john.

practically despised pete best and stuart stutcliffe bc they were bringing the group down.

got arrested along with pete best bc they lit a condom on fire in hamburg.

still felt awful and a little guilty when stuart died suddenly.

main force behind the beatles imo.

without him we’d have not as much beatles music as we do.

was dating jane asher throughout majority of the sixties.

when they first met they talked about syrup and paul fell in love.

they broke things off after she walked in on him sleeping with another woman though.

directed magical mystery tour and it was amazing and I don't care what anyone says ok?

when john divorced cynthia he was the only one not scared of john and went against his wishes of not speaking to cynthia.

was a little controlling at times.

has a good heart though.

mal evans had to drive him home once after a beatles sessions bc he was crying so hard.

was talking about getting the band back to touring when john said he was leaving the group.

everyone kind of turned against him when the beatles were breaking up and i hate it.

he just wanted what was best for the band.

married linda and had a nice little farm.

we love that story.

linda i'm free thursday if you want to hang out pls.

started up the whole “no meat monday” thing where you don't eat monday on mondays

food meat. not the other kind of meat.

children: james mccartney, stella mccartney, heather mccartney, mary mccartney, and beatrice mccartney.

rip martha.

WINGS!!

he lost linda in 1998 due to cancer.

cried for a whole year bc of it.

still has dreams about john and says they're nice.

wrote a sad song about john called “here today.”

really loved john. like..he truly, genuinely did.

want someone to love me like paul does john.

“think of me every now and then old friend.”

honorable paul moments:

his story about george’s dad

“john? he was beautiful. very beautiful.”

humpty dumpty rap

another story about him and george.

his google search video that I watch every week

this

george harrison

born: February 24, 1943

or at least we think

bc he use to say that his birthday was february 25, but later started saying it february 24.

why can't we change our birthdays its not like we picked it

he was the youngest child.

baby of the family and of the beatles awwww

two older brothers named harry and peter. one older sister named louise.

when george’s mom was pregnant with him she’d play sitar music.

his mom was super supportive of his career choice

when he was 16 he worked as an electricians apprentice.

his dad kind of hoped he would start a family business out of it.

george said nah

would ride the bus opposite way of his house just to spend time with paul

headbutted a kid bc he didn't think they were worthy of paul’s friendship

was brought into the band bc of paul insisting to john

would follow john around like a lost puppy when he first met him

once had an eight hour erection. don't ask me how idk he said it.

was 17 when he lost his virginity and the other band members were in the room watching and cheered him when he finished

most sex craved beatle tbh

once walked into a girls dressing room and asked if they could stand there so he could masturbate

he was the first beatle to go to america

got a black eye for defending ringo once

would make john and paul take turns sharing rooms with ringo when he first joined the band so that he felt more welcomed

when ringo left during the white album and then came back george decorated the studio with flowers for him

during the beatles first recording session he told george martin that he didn't like his tie

became a vegetarian at 22

favorite candy was jelly beans and purple was his favorite color

used the phrase “grotty” in the hard days night movie, hated it, but everyone else picked up on the slang

met his first wife, pattie boyd, on the set of a hard days night

was turned down by her at first

they married in 1966

wouldn't let her do modeling stuff and was kind of an ass

a stylish couple but not the best image for a healthy relationship

got into eastern religion around 1965

during the Hamburg days he would eat chicken on stage

had an affair with ringo’s first wife maureen

got a divorce from pattie in 1977

in 1978 he married olivia who he stayed with until his death and had one son with. dhani.

was the first beatle to hit a number one single and album.

was buddies with led zeppelin

inspired their “rain song”

smashed a piece of cake on john bonham’s head and then was thrown into the pool by him

he financed and produced films. had a production company.

tom petty said that george never shut up once you started talking to him

but he was often referred to as “the quiet beatle”

formed another band called the traveling wilburys

he’d answer questions online in the 2000′s and it’s the cutest thing ever and his answers break my heart too.

“what do you miss most about john lennon?” “john lennon.”

in 1999 a schizophrenic person broke into his house and stabbed him 40 times

thank god olivia was there bc she was the only braincell in the room

had to get a part of his lung taken out

died november 29, 2001 from lung cancer

ashes were scattered into the ganges river

honorable george moments:

this interview he did with ringo

“i'm sad bc i can't play guitars with john anymore. but i did that...i know we’ll meet again some day.”

when he invented reaction videos

“the wind was blowing.” “..blowing my girl?”

“what kind of girl do you like?” “john’s wife.”

sir richard starkey aka ringo starr

born on july 7, 1940

oldest member in the group

has no siblings

naturally was left handed but his grandma thought it was bad luck so he writes right handed, and plays drums with a right handed kit

but does everything else left handed

when he was 6 he fell into a two month coma

was a very sick child

when he was 13 he was in the hosiptal for tuberculosis and formed a hospital band

grew up poor

loves and looked up to his stepfather a lot

his step father bought him his first drum kit in 1957

wasn't that great in school bc he missed so much of it from being so sick

he worked for a britain railway for a while

also served drinks on a day boat for a job

loves dancing

Rory storm and the hurricanes

got his nickname from all the rings he would wear

replaced pete best as the beatles drummer

dealt with people hating him for a bit bc they liked pete more

had to style his hair in a bowl cut to be in the band and i'm still mad at them for making him do that shit

ringo i'm so sorry

george martin didn't really like his drumming and had a session drummer come in for the first album

in 1964 he had tonsillitis, pharyngitis, and high fever all at once and had to be in the hospital for a bit.

was worried the beatles would replace him for good

he’s a cancer don't worry

was the first beatle to try weed

drummers always go first huh

married his first wife, maureen, in 1965

she kissed paul, ringo, and george.

what a champ

honeymoon was ruined by reporters

was really insecure in his relationship and needed a lot of reassurance

had a great relationship with pretty much all the beatles

but a great one with john

john felt his most relaxed when he was with ringo

was once in a movie with roger daltrey

divorced maureen in 1975

his wife now is barbara bach who he married in 1981

had alcohol problems

once gotten so drunk that he beat barbara so badly that he thought he killed her

put himself into rehab after that

barbara lowkey looks like jan from the office

children: zak, lee, and jason

zak is the drummer for the band the who

peace and love

but don't send me fan mail anymore

peace and love

ringo starr and the allstar band (starting 1981)

was the narrator for thomas the tank engine

will play at paul’s concerts sometimes now for fun

mad bc he came on stage during paul’s last concert show and it was on my birthday and I couldn't go to it

honorable ringo moments:

“do you want me to come with you?”

stupid barbara walters

talking about paul

giving us a little dance

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someplace-that-is-else · 4 years

Text

‘The Art of the Reboot: Why I like Roswell: New Mexico’

In a word: Ugh.

It was like everywhere I turned, there they were. Remakes. Reboots. Reimaginings.

Hollywood just could not let it go. I got it. Nostalgia could be a hell of a drug. However…was nothing sacred. Nostalgia was that for a reason. A nice memory from when you were a kid. That time when things were simpler. It was fun. It was vivid with delights. So no one wants such a thing tainted.

“So when are you watching it?”

What was the show this time? Charmed. After such a success with superhero shows, The CW was branching out into reboots of old TV shows like Roswell and Charmed. Charmed was a show about three sisters who were part of a long line of witches. It ran on the defunct WB network from 1998-2006 and starred Shannen Doherty, Holly Marie Combs, Alyssa Milano, and (later on) Rose McGowan. All actresses that I liked.

Great memories were attached to that show. My sister, brother, mother, me, and my nieces and nephew could be counted on to be around the television watching it. I still remembered how my sister loved how fierce the Halliwell sisters dressed. And who did not want to have Prue’s power to move things with your mind…or Piper’s power to freeze…or angst over Phoebe getting a love life. Yeah, good times.

“I don’t know,” I replied to the question. “I don’t even really want to watch it. Maybe a hatewatch.”

Hatewatch. When you watched a show because you disliked it so much that you sat there and nitpicked it to death. Something I felt that I would do to Charmed. I just did not see a reason to bring it back.

That was the same way I felt about the news of Roswell, New Mexico. Old School Roswell was on the WB (and later on UPN) as well, running from 1999 to 2002. I was a late starter to it, drawn in by the potential sci-fi, but who didn’t love the relationship between main alien Max and human teenager Liz or the sparring between alien Michael and feisty Maria? Yeah, I admit that I was curious to see how it would do. I did not have much faith in it. Perhaps just another hate-watch.

I was wrong.

So What Makes It Work: Plot and Character on Roswell New Mexico

What makes a good reboot?

Well for one, it could not be a retrace of what came before. Been there, done that. Have the T-shirt. Who would want to see that AGAIN when you already did it? Also like a sequel to a successful movie, most times one cannot beat out the original.

For another, a good reboot also respected what came before as well as attempted to do something new with the source material which began as a book series by Melinda Metz. A good reboot was a balancing act, a case for nostalgia while being fresh.

And coming away from the first season of Roswell, New Mexico…it was.

Old School Roswell was about the idea that aliens were among us and trying to fit in while they explored their origins. They were always in fear of being discovered. At the same time, they could not help, but feel ‘other.’ Into this main alien Max Evans and human Liz Parker fell in love.

New School Roswell was respectful to that with a twist…Max and Liz (as well as their friends) were all aged up a decade into adulthood versus the high school years of the original. And just like Old School Max pined for Liz, this version of Max had pined for Liz since they were kids. Both Lizs discovered the truth about Max and aliens after being healed by Max.

Another change that Roswell, New Mexico made…Liz taking back her name. Ortecho. In the books, Liz was of Mexican descent. In the WB/UPN show, Liz was played more like the typical smart teenager. In the reboot, the show never shied away from the fact Liz was of Mexican descent. It explored that fact and how it impacted her in the United States now. Given current events, that made Liz’s family life…her world…EXTREMELY relevant. And most importantly relatable.

Max feeling his otherness. Liz feeling her otherness. Quite a match. That wrote itself. And the closer they got to each other, the more they (and the viewers) learned about them.

Anyone who knew me or read my books (https://www.amazon.com/LaTorre-Mays/e/B00E0LUID4) knew that I loved duality. Quite a few characters on Roswell, New Mexico had that. Kyle had gone from typical jock hothead to compassionate doctor. Alien Michael liked to be bad cowboy playboy with the swagger to match to heart on his sleeves guy who loved one guy when he was not projecting an image. Even memories of Liz remembering her sister Rosa (something else different from the WB Roswell) revealed there was more to her sister than meets the eye.

Speaking of Rosa, the reboot kept something else that the original show had. Mystery mixed with some sci-fi and romance was the plot of the original show. Who was the fourth alien? Why were Max, Michael, and Isobel brought here? What had happened on their old planet? Who were the Skins?

Roswell, New Mexico continued that plot tradition, but again did its own thing. The Season 1 mystery had to do with the events surrounding Rosa’s death. Was it an accident? If it was not (spoiler alert…it wasn’t) what happened? Who killed Rosa and why? On top of that…who was Rosa really? Good girl? Bad girl with toxic baggage? A misunderstood girl with a bag of secrets not her own? Not only that who was the murderer? The mystery surrounding her death built over Season 1’s 13 episodes. Even better, just when you thought you knew something, something else was revealed or was turned what was known on its ear. Like an onion, a fan pulled back its surface only to find more surface. Layers. Season 2 took the mystery idea a step farther by having Max, Isobel, and Michael dive into their alien origins, specifically what had happened to their parents and how that involved human ally (and one of Michael’s love interest) Alex’s family the Manes. That mystery as well, while slower than Season 1’s plot arc, revealed itself to also be an onion. Again…Layers.

But speaking of Alex, there was another thing Roswell, New Mexico also pulled out some originality on, but honored the original series.

The relationships.

What Keeps It Working: Relationships on Roswell, New Mexico

So what were you? A Stargrazer? Or maybe a Dreamer? Perhaps you were more for M&M aka Candy?

Old Roswell had its shippers before anyone knew what a shipper was. Shipper = people who loved a couple, worshipped them, and lived for every moment between those characters. Whether you loved the destiny pairing of Max/Liz, the Bickerson-ness of Maria/Michael, or the ‘opposite attracts’ aspect of Isobel/Alex, there were quite a few to choose from. And those could help in the case of bad writing, something that people debatably said about Season 2 and definitely said about Season 3.

And what ships they were. Even the reboot series did the now famous scene (also in the book as well) of Liz being shot and Max healing her. The scene of her pointing up to the scene after Max explained where he was from. The various scenes of Maria and Michael arguing, but that fire always bringing them together whether it was him watching her dance at the start of Season 2 or them dancing at the senior prom after a misunderstanding. Or who could forget the time when Alex stripped at Isobel’s birthday party to impress the popular girl…and of course the comedy that ensued?

In a word…relatable.

On Roswell, New Mexico….well, the saying was true. The more things change…

And boy did it change! By aging up the characters, the show stepped away from the old typical high school dramas. Good news with the change? It allowed for deeper subject matter and relevant subject matter for today’s work. Illegal immigrants. Bisexuality. Identity.

But again…not too different. Hehe!!! The Liz of the Roswell Reboot was the child of illegal immigrants. That opened up for a new audience to see a whole different culture. It also showed the problems with being one. Meanwhile, the Max of the Roswell reboot was a sheriff with a darker edge to him. A Liz who constantly proving that she could save herself. A Max who may be a savior, but was not above being a little more selfish. Watching the two of them come together slowly was interesting to watch and reminiscent of old school Max and Liz. More so since this Max also had a crush on Liz.

Not only did they have their differences to deal with, but a mystery involving the death of Rosa which of course involved the aliens somehow. The who, what, why of the death was the driving force of the first season, but Max and Liz (ship name Echo) was the heart of it. And in Season Two, the drama for their relationship was wisely focused on them. If the drama for the relationship in the first season was external, season two focused on how their differences could be a problem and thus, internal.

Speaking of identity, one cannot talk about Roswell, New Mexico without talking about Michael Guerin…and Alex.

While Isobel dealt with some identity issues that touched on assault, abortion, and self-exploration, Michael was in a league of his own. While Michael in the old Roswell was a hothead with not much drive searching for his place in the world, Michael of Roswell, New Mexico…was actually the same. However, part of the reason Michael did not have a drive was that he was busy playing cover-up behind Rosa’s death with Max and Isobel. And the other reason became very clear when he laid eyes on Alex Manes after years. Lost love was usually that way.

Yes. On the new reboot, Michael and Alex had a lost love from when they were teenagers. And seeing each other again brought that all back. Shame since Alex’s father was anti-alien and homophobic. So viewers got to watch them deal with their issues. From how tragic things ended when they were kids. From dealing with the issues of the closeted lover. Add on the alien issues and the Rosa mystery, and you had a couple named Malex that had a lot of past and present issues to deal with.

Enter…Maria.

Just like the old series, Michael and Maria had a sparring partner relationship. One thing led to another and during a break from Alex, Michael and Maria hooked up. So a chemistry filled triangle began. And Michael found himself asking what was more important…the past or the present?

And all of the relationships kept people tuning in. Not to mention the alien hijinks. I was happy to see that while the writers were very good at plotting out a mystery with twists, turns, and flashbacks, the writers knew what made old Roswell an enduring show. The relationships like Max and Liz and Michael and Alex…and Michael and Maria. The writers knew about the search for self when a person knew they were different. They knew none of it would mean anything if the characters were not relatable. And at the same time, they threw curveballs to keep this version of Roswell fresh and original while still honoring what made old Roswell Roswell.

And knowing that meant they got the art of the reboot.

And I…couldn’t wait to see what they did next.

#reboots #art #roswell #roswellnewmexico #cw #upn #wb #charmed #echo #malex #candy #stargrazer #dreamer #melindametz #max #liz #rosa #shannendoherty #alyssamilano #hollymariecombs #rosemcgowan #michael #maria #nostaglia #characters #plotting #childrenof #respect #originality #refresh #remake

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willykappymarnsmatts · 4 years

Text

I Was Made For Loving You (M. Marner)

*Y/N’s POV*

My brother, Tyson, had been traded to the Leafs over the summer. We were always really close, and he begged me to transfer to a school in Toronto so we could still hang out. At first I refused, because I had grown super close to the boys in Denver, but after constant begging I eventually gave in. I hung around at home for the summer, but a week before the season started, Tyson flew me out for good.

When I land in Toronto, I have butterflies in my stomach. I’m excited for a new start, a new University, but I don’t know anyone in the city but Tyson. It’s… a lot.

“Y/N!” I hear someone call from behind me. I whip around, seconds before Tyson picks me up and spins me around. “Hi!” He yells.

“Hey, Tys,” I laugh. It’s literally been two months, but he’s acting like it’s been two years.

“So, um, I know it’s kind of late notice, but we have a banquet tonight. Did you bring a dress?”

“No, mom’s bringing all my nice clothes when she comes for Thanksgiving,” I frown. “You could’ve told me before I left!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but we have to go shopping. Like, now.” I roll my eyes, following him to his car.

“I’m tired, Tys,” I whine. He shakes his head and takes my bags from me as we walk.

“Too bad. I’ve already told the boys about you, and they’re all excited to meet you, so you have to come with me.” His face turns a light shade of red as his voice begins to raise.

I laugh. “Okay, okay, no need to get so worked up.”

He smiles at me wide. “I missed you,” he tells me, opening the car door for me.

“Oh, a true gentleman,” I chirp.

“Shut up,” he jokes, shutting the door once I’m in.

•••

After Tyson dragged me around the mall for two hours looking for a dress, he was finally happy with one I tried on. I kept telling them every single one I tried was great, but he didn’t agree. It had to be ‘perfect,’ he insisted. I pushed for a simple, form-fitting knee-length black dress, but Tys wasn’t having it.

I come out of the dressing room in a dress that ends just below mid-thigh. It’s a deep blue, with a v-shape neck line which cuts down to the middle of my chest. It clings to my curves, complimenting my shape. Tyson looks up from his phone when I come out of the dressing room, and his jaw drops. I smile slightly, then spin in front of him. I look in the mirror at myself. I smile at my reflection, smoothing down the dress. “You don’t think it’s a little short?” I ask, tugging down the bottom of the dress.

“No, I, uh, it’s… I’m gonna have to fight my boys off of you tonight.” He scratches at the back of his neck. I smile wide at him.

“You don’t think I can handle myself, big brother?”

“No, I do, but I don’t think my friends can handle themselves.” He jokes. “We’re gonna have fun tonight.”

•••

“Y/N!” Tyson yells from the kitchen of his apartment. He’s been waiting for me for 20 minutes and is the most impatient person on the planet.

“Tyson, I’m almost ready, shut up!” I yell back, bending my head to put in a pair of gold hoop earrings. I curled my hair so it bounces when I walk, and I put on bright red lipstick. I don’t have to curl my eyelashes, but I did eyeliner and mascara. I don’t know what inside me told me I needed to go all out, but I listened nonetheless.

I walk out, click-clacking on the wood floor with black heels. I gather my hair behind my shoulders as I grab my shoulder bag from the couch.

“Wow, you look great, Y/N!” Tyson grins. I smile back at him.

“I feel pretty,” I say like a little girl. He laughs and wraps me in a hug.

“I talked to some of the guys and told them you’re coming. They’re all really excited to meet you,” he mentions, locking the door as we leave.

I nod, pursing my lips to hide a smile. I haven’t been in a relationship since I was a young teenager, and I’m almost twenty now. I’m looking forward to getting out there without Tyson babying me. When he got drafted, the boys on the team were much older than me. There was no chance in the world that they would’ve been of any interest to me, but they became like a bunch of older brothers. Now, though, it’s different.

We walk in silence to the car, the sound of my shoes echoing off the walls.

“How’s Toronto been?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Good,” he nods. “I like it a lot, actually.”

I smile. “The guys all miss you a lot.”

He watches his shoes as he walks. “I miss them too, I really do. But to be honest, these guys on the Leafs are the tightest group I’ve ever seen. In Denver, we were tight, but the entirety of us weren’t best friends. Here, the team is a family. They all love each other, and they welcomed me into the group with open arms. You’ll see tonight, what I’m talking about.”

We get to the car and he opens the door for me and holds it while I slide in. “Seriously, how are you still single?” I chirp.

He mocks me while making a face and closes the door as I get in, making me throw my head back and laugh. He smiles as he gets in on the driver side.

“I really did miss you, you know?”

“I missed you too, big brother.”

•••

Of course, we’re fashionably late to the banquet because Tyson is the slowest driver on planet earth. When I told him this, he obviously blamed me.

“It’s not my fault you took five hours to get ready.” He tells me as we jog into the hall. I shake my head and laugh slightly. When Tyson pushes open the doors into the hall, loud music hits us like a truck. I’m taken aback at the beautiful set-up. The walls have blue drapery almost the same colour as my dress. There are round tables with white table clothes all around the room, with a DJ booth and a dance floor in the middle. People are strewn about, some on the dance floor and some hanging out at their seats.

“I’m going to go find Kyle, let him know we’re alive,” Tyson tells me, patting my shoulder as he walks away. I’m left alone at the entrance and I make my way into the party.

•••

*Mitch’s POV*

When I saw her walk in, my breath caught in my throat. She was probably the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but as I got up the courage to go and talk to her, Tyson came by and blocked my view. I try to peek over his shoulder and watch her, but he’s too wide.

“Hey, Mitchy!” Tyson says, hugging me and patting my back. “How ya doing?”

“Good, I’m… good,” I say distractedly, still trying to find the girl I saw just a moment ago. I give up for the moment and focus my attention back on Tyson. “How are you, bud?”

“Good. My sister flew in today, she’s around here somewhere. Let me know if you have a chance to meet her. She’s-“

“Uh, Tys,” I interrupt. I see a head of curly brown hair walking away from us and immediately try to come up with an excuse to get away. “I think I see a guy I knew from juniors. Do you mind if I go for a sec?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Tyson nods, obviously confused as to why I’m not acting myself. I can explain later.

“Thanks, man.” I say, shrugging past him and towards the girl in the blue dress.

I’m nearing the girl, turning and shouldering past some people I know and some people I don’t. I smile and nod as I pass, and take a deep breath as I near the girl.

“Mitchhh,” Auston appears in front of me when I’m two steps away from the mystery girl. “I’m… drunk.” He states, almost proudly.

“Matts, we got here an hour ago. How the fuck are you already drunk?” I ask, the girl momentarily forgotten.

“Well, there was this girl, right, and I wanted to buy her a drink, but she left, so I just drank it. Then I had two more drinks. And then another one.” He slurs all his words together and if I hadn’t seen him in this state eleven million times before, I would have no idea what he’s saying to me. But I have, and I understand him clearly.

“Okay, Aus. Uh, go sit in your seat, you are in no shape to dance. And I am cutting you off. Water only.”

“But Mitchhhhh,” he drawls.

“No. I’m the one that has to deal with a big hungover baby tomorrow morning. No more drinks.”

“Fffffine.” He slurs, wobbling to his table. I take a breath and scan the room once more. I see the girl and start to make my way over to her, but I get interrupted again.

“Mitchy, have ya-“

His head of blonde hair pops up in front of me out of nowhere, and I step back slightly in shock. “Willy, I’m kinda busy right now, okay? Sorry, bud.” I shove past Will and he just nods as I pass him. She’s two steps away from me now.

One step away.

I tap on her shoulder.

•••

*Y/N’s POV*

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn around, expecting to meet Tyson. Instead, it’s a boy I do not recognize. He’s taller, almost a head taller than I am. He has short brown hair that is swept lazily to one side. He has bright blue eyes that shine as he grins wide at me. He’s wearing a magenta jacket and a clean off-white dress shirt. He’s beautiful, to put it frankly.

“Hi,” he says. I can barely hear him over the music, but if I watch his mouth, I can make out the words. “My name is Mitch, I play for the Leafs. I haven’t seen you before, what’s your name?”

I smile at him. “I’m Y/N. Ya know Tyson?”

“Fuck me,” he sighs. “Your boyfriend?”

I throw my head back and laugh. My hair falls behind my shoulders and when I look at Mitch, he’s smiling again. “No, definitely not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

“Ohhh. Well, shit.”

I laugh again. “Why shit?”

He looks up at me, almost like he forgot I was there. “Well, Y/F/N Barrie, I think you’re really beautiful, and I wanted to ask you to dance, but if Tyson sees me dancing with you he’ll probably murder me.”

I smile and feel my cheeks redden. “Tyson has no say over who I get to dance with,” I say firmly. “If you wanna dance, just ask.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, staring at me in amazement. I begin to turn around, but he catches my wrist and spins me back to him. “Will you dance with me, Y/N?”

I nod, trying to hide my grin. I place my bag on my seat and take his outstretched hand in mine. “I’d love to.”

He drags me out to the middle of the dance floor, just as Thinking Out Loud starts playing. I wasn’t expecting a slow song, and I falter mid-step. “Oh, um, if you don’t want to-“

“I do. I do want to.” He tugs my arm once more to keep me moving. We find an empty space among the swaying couples. I stare at him, and he stares back. Neither of us moves for a moment, then he places his hands on either side of my waist, inching them to the small of my back. I bring my hands up to the back of his neck and interlock them behind his head. I smile at him, and he grins back.

We become more comfortable in each others’ space. As we continue to dance, and the songs change, we stay in each other’s arms, asking questions, slowly getting to know each other. He pulls me closer to him, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “My heart is fucking racing,” he mutters, and my body shakes with silent laughter. I pull back to look at him, and the look on his face tells me I wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, our faces so close my nose is brushing his, “I’m falling pretty fast, too.”

We continue to sway, our bodies pressed against each other. I press my forehead against Mitch’s and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Y/N, nobody’s made me lose my mind like this, ever.” I smile and pull my head away from his so we can continue to sway.

As the next song ends, Mitch and I are left in a haze where only we exist. “I’m thirsty,” I tell him.

“I need a drink, too.” He takes my hand and leads me to the bar…

Where Tyson is standing, watching us.

“Fuck,” Mitch abruptly stops.

I turn my body to face him, my back to Tyson. I can feel his eyes on me. “Do you have ulterior motives, Marner?” I ask him, only half-kidding. He shakes his head furiously.

“It’s kind of terrifying, really terrifying, actually, but I think I might be in love with you.”

I smile and squeeze his hand, my face reddening. “Then why are you so scared of my brother?” I don't wait for a response, but pull Mitch behind me up to the bar.

“I see you met Mitch,” Tyson states, his voice nearly growling. It’s a side of him I almost never see, and it’s so different from his higher, happy voice.

“Yes I did, actually, and I think I’m possibly falling for him. Not that it’s actually any of your business, but we’ve talked a lot and I like him, so…” my voice trails off.

Tyson studies the two of us, mostly staring at our intertwined fingers. “You guys just met.” He frowns.

“We’re not getting married, Tys. Chill out, and back off a little, okay?”

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear and forces a tight grin. “Fine.”

He faces Mitch. “If you hurt her, or cross any lines, you’re dead. And I don’t care if you’re my teammate.”

Mitch nods, his hand literally shaking in mine. I smile wide. As Tyson leaves, we sit on stools at the bar, waiting for the bartender. I kiss him lightly on the cheek. I start to say something else, but I lose my train of thought when he gently takes my chin and turns me towards him.

He leans into me and kisses me, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. The world disappears, and I melt into the kiss, into Mitch. He pulls away, and my eyelids refuse to open all the way. “Okay?” He whisper. I nod, dizzy and flustered and…

In love.

#mitch marner #mitch marner fic #mitch marner imagine #mitch marner/reader #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs imagine #hockey #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl hockey #tyson barrie #willykappymattsmarns

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3 - First Come First Serve - Words: 2,788

"Here's her profile, Greg," Sergeant Donovon said, dropping a folder on her boss's desk.

"Clarissa Hughes, aged 32, brown and blue, 5' 5", No. 1 District, been on the force since '10, promoted to Sergeant in '17. Unmarried, unattached, no children, father deceased, mother living in Manchester, one sister in America." Greg sighed after reading the file. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. He never liked cases involving one of his own. They always gave him a migraine.

The scene yesterday was impressive even for someone like him who'd been in New Scotland Yard for over 30 years. The young woman had been found in her apartment, laying face down on the floor. A small bullet hole in the window revealed a sniper had been perched on the roof of a nearby building. While there were entry and exit wounds, they had not yet found the bullet to give to ballistics.

"There's not much to go on. It could have been random. Maybe she had one bad date with someone who was a bit off their rocker and-"

"Inspector," Anderson interrupted.

"Yes?" Greg replied, migraine now doubling.

"They found this at the scene." Anderson held out a Ziploc with a ruby red, silk handkerchief. It had no markings on it, not even a snag, save for the small, gold R embroidered on the corner.

"Where did they find it?"

"It was special delivered today with no return address or other markings."

"Now why would a woman, whose name does not start with R, order a monogrammed handkerchief."

"Bored!"

*bang*

"BORED!"

*bang bang bang*

"Sherlock! I swear you had better stop that or I will call Lestrade this time and tell him it was you who put the hallucinogen in Anderson's tea!"

"Fine!"

"Good!”

*thwap thud thwap thud thwap thud*

"Sherlock?"

"I'm being quiet!"

"What are you doing?"

"A bow and arrow are much more satisfying!"

"Oh -!"

"Torry! Guess what!" Erin called out to her roommate from the living room of their shared apartment.

"You're moving out?" She called back, teasing as usual.

"Haha, very funny," Erin deadpanned. "Really though, this is awesome."

"Did we get a case?"

"Better!"

"Two cases?"

"Torry!"

"Ok! What?"

"In exactly 1 month you and I will be in London, England speaking at the International Inspectors Convention."

"Wow! That's fantastic! I wonder if-" Torry paused. "Nevermind."

"Don't worry, Torry, I already checked," Erin winked. "He's scheduled to speak the day after us."

"Inspector, there's been another murder," Donovan announced, walking up to Lestrade in the break room.

"Ok," he replied. "Is it my division?"

"Yes, this time it was Amelia Walker. She was an Inspector in No. 3 District." Greg slammed his mug down on the counter.

"Walker and Hughes were two of our best inspectors! Have you found any connection yet?" The two grabbed their jackets and headed downstairs.

"Nothing yet. The landlady just reported her body. Anderson's there now with his team."

"Ok then, let's go." The two got in the car and headed off. When they arrived, Anderson rushed up holding a small envelope.

"Another one just arrived," He said. Lestrade grabbed the envelope and looked inside. Sure enough, another ruby red handkerchief with an embroidered R on the corner. "I asked the delivery boy where he got it from but he said he didn't know. It was a different boy this time too."

"Where is she?" Lestrade asked. They followed Anderson over to the body. "Cause of death?"

"Another sniper." Anderson showed them the bullet hole in a nearby window. Lestrade shook his head.

"Did ballistics ever get a lead on the gun?"

"Nothing," Donovan replied. "It's a standard sniper rifle but there are literally hundreds of those to try and track down."

"There must be something we're missing," Lestrade groaned.

"Ah! London! Doesn't it smell great!" Erin exclaimed, taking a deep breath as they stepped off the plane.

"It smells like airplane fuel. Let's wait till we actually leave the airport," Torry replied.

"Ok, grumpy. Geez, remind me never to take you on a flight again." Torry growled in reply but Erin just chuckled. "Let's go get our bags and head to the hotel."

"And go straight to bed. I'm dead."

The next day, the inspectors convention started. There were hundreds of private investigators, police inspectors, and a few other kinds of detectives. Torry kept her eye out for one specific "Consulting Detective" but there was no sign of him on the first day. They did however meet their hotel room neighbor, Frances Grant. She had been an inspector at NYS in London until she moved to Manchester about a year ago.

"Nice gal," Erin commented, walking out of their bathroom that night.

"Yeah. I wonder what that case she mentioned was," Torry replied from her bed, already laying down.

"I don't know. She said she was going to help her old academy friend investigate while she was here, right?"

"Mm," Torry agreed. "Must be pretty serious," She said sleepily.

"Are you really already going to sleep?"

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Seriously? We're in a hotel, got to bed early, have the opportunity to actually watch BBC from London and you want to sleep."

"Yes. You watch TV and tell me all about it when I wake up. I won't be able to stay awake to give BBC my full attention when I'm this tired."

"Party pooper," Erin teased as she plugged in her earbuds. Torry grunted in reply and went to sleep. 2 hours later, Erin was nearly asleep still watching late night mystery shows on BBC.

*CRASH*

"What the-" Erin startled awake. Looking at the TV she saw the detective on the show had just been shot. "Oh, should probably turn that off and go to sleep," She whispered to herself. After turning off the TV and unplugging her earbuds, Erin rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

"Wake up sleepyhead!" Torry yelled the next morning.

"Ok, ok, I'm up," Erin groaned. The girls got ready for the day, Torry dressing up extra fancy since a certain someone was on the program. They headed down for breakfast, where Frances said she'd meet up with them. She didn't show up though and the girls headed back to their room.

"I wonder why Frances didn't come down for breakfast," Torry mused, walking out of the elevator on their floor. Erin shrugged and was about to say something when there was a yell from down the hallway.

"Help! Help! Police! Someone!" A housekeeper cried out.

"What's wrong, miss?" Erin asked, rushing up to her in front of one of the rooms

"Sh-sh-she's dead!" The woman exclaimed. Torry squeezed past her, not noticing which room it was, and looked inside.

"It's Frances!" Torry called out to Erin.

"Oh no!" Erin replied. "I'll be right there!" Erin turned to the housekeeper and handed her a tissue from a box on the cleaning cart. "Why don't you wait in our room? I'll call the police and then they can take a statement from you once they get here." The lady nodded and Erin took her to their room to sit down. From there she called the police.

Meanwhile, Torry began investigating the scene of the crime. "Hm, sniper," Torry mumbled to herself, noticing the window. She walked around the body, examining it and taking mental notes. Suddenly there was a knock on the room door.

"Police!" Torry opened the door at once. "Inspector Lestrade," The man introduced himself. "Are you the one that called?"

"No, that would be my friend, Erin. She's in our room next door with the housekeeper who found the body."

"Are you here for the convention?" Lestrade asked. 'Last thing I need is some amateur messing things up,' He thought to himself.

"Yes."

'Dang it!' He mentally shouted. "Alright, have you moved or touched anything since you entered the room?"

"Really, Inspector, I wouldn't dare! This is a crime scene after all!"

"Ok, just checking," He defended.

"36, married, no children, lives in Manchester, originally from London. That much she told us last night. We had dinner together. She must have died sometime in the middle of the night. I'd say around 2am. Based off the stage of rigor mortis." Lestrade stared at her, surprised. He'd only ever seen one other person rattle off so many facts so quickly. "She was killed by a sniper through the window. I also noticed that-"

"Wait, sniper?"

"Yes. I believe I just said that."

"What's her name?"

"Frances Grant, she's an-"

"Inspector," Lestrade said sadly. "I went to the Academy with her." He shook his head. "Anderson, get me those two other files. Let's see if this one has a connection."

"I'm sure it does, Graham. You probably just haven't looked well enough," Sherlock drawled from the doorway.

"Did I invite you here, Sherlock?" Lestrade yelled.

"Not specifically," He replied coolly, waltzing into the room. "But I heard there was a murder," He said, eyes lighting up. "And I simply had to come!" He grinned.

"Sherlock!" A shorter man yelled from the hallway. "Where did you get off to?"

"In here John!" Torry was just about to say something, finally past the initial surprise that her favorite Detective was standing in front of her, when Erin yelled from the next room.

"Torry! Get over here!" She yelled. Torry, John, and Greg rushed over. "She's gone into shock, can you help me get her on the bed instead of this chair?"

"I can help you, miss. I'm a Doctor," John said.

"Please do, Dr. Watson," She replied. Turning to the others, she asked: "Are you with the Yard?" Lestrade nodded. "She was the one who discovered her body. You'll want a statement later, obviously."

"Ah yes, thank you, Miss-"

"Erin Blair. And that's Torry Star. We're America's only consulting detectives," Erin said with a wink. John's eyebrows shot up immediately. "Yes, Doctor," She continued. "I've read your blog."

"Speaking of Sherlock," Lestrade spoke up. "I had better get back and make sure he hasn't started world war 3 with Anderson."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to come back with you. There was something I noticed," Torry said. Lestrade nodded and the two of them went to the other room. Torry walks in first and, while Sherlock and Anderson are bickering, paces the room. 'Now, I need to check what's shining behind that chair,' She thought. Attempting to go to the corner to check, Torry finds Sherlock is blocking her path. "If you're not going to help investigate the murder, then get out of my way so I can." Torry states. She then pushes past him to examine what she finds to be a bullet casing. Greg had to bite back a laugh at Sherlock's face.

'I've never seen the man look so offended!' Greg thought. 'This will be interesting.' Just then, the hotel phone rang. "Hello, Inspector Lestrade," He said, picking up the phone.

"Inspector, we just had a package dropped off for Miss Grant's room. The boy asked it be delivered right away to Sergeant Donovan."

"Alright, bring it up." Once the package was brought up, Anderson and Donovan opened it carefully while Sherlock and Torry argued over what type of sniper's rifle shoots those bullets.

"It's another handkerchief!" Anderson exclaimed.

"Another?" Torry and Sherlock asked in surprise. Greg explained to them what had happened with the last two murders.

"There's a note with this one," Donovan said shakily. "Congratulations. You're next."

"Let me see that," Torry said, grabbing the handkerchief. "The sniper is a woman. Military or police training with that level of skill. I'd say about 37 with that handwriting. First name is Ruby. This handkerchief is Ruby red and has her monogram."

"Ruby Jones!" Greg exclaimed. "She went to the Academy with me. She failed though. She didn't like working with others. She was too competitive, always trying to prove herself. She had a high level shooting badge and I think she trained on that rifle you mentioned before. I guess she was taking her revenge."

"I'll put out a warrant," Anderson said.

"Thanks," Donovan said to Torry. "I don't know what to say."

"Really?" Sherlock scoffed. "You're thanking her! She did the same thing I do! Well, not as perfectly but still!"

"She's different, Holmes," Donovan spat. "You wouldn't understand, freak."

"And with that I wish we had solved the case a little later," Torry mumbled. Donovan didn't hear her, but Sherlock did. Though he couldn't hold back a slight smile at that, he still felt a bit put off at Torry stealing his spotlight.

Meanwhile, once the others left the room, John looked at Erin with a smirk. "What?" She chuckled.

"America's only consulting detectives?" He teased.

"I couldn't help it," She replied. "We are fairly well known back in the colonies," She said with a posh British accent, making John smile. "We got invited to speak at the convention yesterday."

"Oh! Of course! You were the guest speakers! I actually wanted to come and see you but Sherlock got stuck on a case. It was really only a 3 but I couldn't get away."

"Ah," Erin sounded in agreement. "Yeah, that's happened to us too. Torry and I work together on every case. If one's there, so is the other."

"So which of you is Sherlock then?" John teased. "If I may do a little deduction of my own, you said you read the blog, you're obviously both fans, so it would only make sense that you've tried to compare yourselves."

"Well done, my dear Watson," Erin grinned. "Yes, we've done that. But we don't line up with either of you exactly. I guess it depends on the case. Some Torry picks up on right away, some I pick up on, and some we figure out together 50/50. And we've had some pretty crazy cases too! Nothing as interesting as yours I suppose though."

"Sounds like you make a good team. I, erm, wouldn't mind discussing some of those interesting cases with you," He said casually. "Perhaps the four of us could go out to dinner this evening?"

"That would be lovely!" Erin said. Just as she finished speaking, they heard yelling from Sherlock and Torry in the next room. They rush over to see what the commotion was. Sherlock and Torry were standing toe to toe right next to the body. Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan were just watching in surprise.

"What makes you think you can just waltz in here and take over my crime scene?" Torry yelled, cheeks bright red.

"Yours?" Sherlock scoffed. "London is mine! You're just some American knock off!"

"Knock off! Well then tell me, why didn't you notice the bullet casing? Hm?"

"I hadn't looked there yet! I was just about to!"

"Week excuse from a man who notices everything!" Torry smirked. "Tell me, what's your excuse now?"

"Excuse for what?" He hissed.

"Dilated pupils, elevated heart rate, rapid breathing, shall I list more?"

"I could ask the same for you," He replied. Torry blushed even brighter but maintained eye contact. Suddenly, after a moment of quiet, Sherlock leaned forward and kissed her quickly. "I like you," He whispered. "Dinner tonight?"

"Ok," Torry squeaked, abit dazed. Sherlock spun around, coat swishing behind him.

"John, let's go, we have to get ready," Sherlock stated. John shook his head and Erin chuckled.

"I guess they're just more blunt than we are," Erin joked.

"It would seem so," John replied, blushing slightly himself. "See you tonight then. We'll pick you up here."

"Ok, John," Erin said. "Well, well, well," She then said, turning to Torry. "Solve the case yet?"

"And that's how Torry and I met," Sherlock stated. He smiled at his fiance who was sitting next to him.

"You forgot to mention how nervous you were that night getting ready," John adds, laughing. Erin and Torry chuckled lightly but Sherlock's ears tinted red. The older couple sitting across them by the fireplace smiled. Sherlock had brought John, Torry and Erin to his parents house to introduce the girls and make the big announcement.

"Well, we couldn't be happier for our son," Mummy said. "Or for you John. You're family too you know," She winked.

"So when's the happy day?" Sherlock's Dad asked. Torry and Erin were just about to reply but they were interrupted.

"Oh please!" Mycroft groaned. "Weddings are simply atrocious emotional events that I have no use for." Sherlock's face fell slightly.

"So I suppose our asking you to officiate would be out of the question?" Sherlock asked

"On the other hand," Mycroft said suddenly, a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps I can make an exception just this once."

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

#sherlock bbc #sherlock x oc #john watson x oc #reverselock #sherlock #john watson

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snowdragon4 · 5 years

Text

Hungry Moon.

Chapter 1: Even a man....

So this is my first multi chapter Fic in the Frozen Fandom. I’m so excited to get this started and if you like this, feel free to leave a comment. If you want, you can also find this on FF.Net under the same name by author bearhow. Big thanks to @snowqueenofmyheart for beta reading and the other members of the fandom like @bigfrozenfan @lvy0 and that have been so welcoming. Enjoy.

Queen Elsa considered herself a very compassionate and caring person. Once the gates had been opened a year and a half ago she made it her mission to get to know each individual of her kingdom. Man, woman and child. This of course led to her sister instating an “open door policy” for the castle where her citizens would come to air their grievances, or just say “Hi”.

And it worked for a while... sort of… not really….

It was a total nightmare!

Granted there were some instances that Elsa and her sister, Princess Anna, were able to help. Fixing homes, helping out with farming, herding, and of course ice delivery with Kristoff. Even the snowman, Olaf, was helping out searching for lost pets. Although these were the issues that Elsa didn’t mind, every other complaint sent a shiver down her spine. Not in a good way.

“I found a sandwich in the town square and I want to know why it didn’t have mayonnaise on it!”

“The ocean is too blue.”

“The cuts from the butchers aren’t shaped like butterflies.”

“Someone needs to check under my bed for monsters.” And that one was from a grown man.

She sighed with a heavy roll of her eyes at herself in the mirror. “Yup. Exciting.” After fixing her makeup it was time for her to think wardrobe. Standing before herself in her light blue underthings she decided something a bit professional. With a wave of her hand’s, icy crystals formed over her body creating her typical teal blue sweetheart dress, with black turtleneck undershirt. Sure she wasn’t crazy about this outfit, but sometimes these early morning meetings called for it.

She began to put her hair up when there came a series of knocks at her chamber doors. She shook her head with a smile. Judging by the knocking it was no mystery as to who it was.

“Come on in—“

Her sister Anna had already burst through the door, in a same style outfit as her sister, excitedly bouncing around Elsa’s chambers with a stack of papers in her hands.

“Monday!” She exclaimed. “Are you excited?”

Elsa finished tying her hair off before turning around to face her sister with a modest, yet fake, smile. “Of course. Any opportunity I can get to serve my people.” Wow that was so natural.

“Well we’ve got some good stuff today?” Anna jumped onto the nearby couch and started going through the papers. “Mister Thompson is here to talk about a leaky roof. Mister and misses Olson’s neighbors are back to complain about the cats. Mister Sorensen is also back to tell us that the stuff on his roof tastes bitter, and misses Winny says the ocean waves are too loud.”

Elsa died a little inside with each word her sister spoke. “Doesn’t she live on the other side of the fjord?”

“Yup!” Anna jumped off the bed and handed the papers to Elsa. “And that’s just the repeat customers.”

Elsa”s fake smile began to waver, but not enough that her sister noticed. “Alright then.”

She turned for the doors until Anna stopped her. “Ah, Ah, Ah, aren’t you forgetting something?” Elsa let out a large groan causing Anna to playfully pat her on her shoulder. “Come on we do this every Monday.”

“No, YOU do this every Monday, I just humor you.”

“Well humor me one more time.” Elsa rolled her eyes, but relented by two taking stacks of papers in her hands. Seeing that she was going along with it, Anna excitedly asked as if addressing a large crowd, “WHO’S GOT THE BEST KINGDOM IN THE WORLD?”

Elsa shook the papers over her head and dryly responded, “We do. We do.”

“ALRIGHT!” With a fist pump Anna led her sister to the meeting hall.

—:0:—

“...all night long with his stupid trumpet playing! I’m about ready to smash it against a rock!”

“...I don’t think that park should be for children.”

“...their out there. In the trees. I’ve seen them. First they’ll come for our sheep, then our children. Then our woman. Then our precious metals.”

“...I know I’m not supposed to drink the sea water, but I did and now I have an infection. So what do you plan on doing about it.”

“...I have a friend who thinks your very attractive...okay that friend is me.”

“...if you don’t do anything about those cats, I will!”

With half hearted smiles, the sisters waved as their latest appointments disappeared through the large double doors. Alone they both breathed a sigh of relief, slumping back into their chairs. Anna began fiddling with the papers on the table in front of her.

“I think that went really--”

“Anna I love you, but this whole ‘open door’ policy is not a very good idea, and if I have to hear another complaint, or something about cats, I’m going to freeze Arendelle again.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them. Instantly her hands slapped over her mouth as Anna looked at her with complete shock.

“Wh-what?”

Elsa started sputtering. “I-I-I didn’t--”

“You don’t like our people coming to us with their issues?”

Elsa could feel the usual feeling of guilt begin to rear its ugly head. “Oh gods. No Anna. I--”

“PHEW!” Anna leaned back in her chair and threw up the remaining papers in her hands. “I thought I was the only one who couldn’t stand these things.”

Guilt melted away into confusion. “Wait? What?”

Anna started laughing excitedly. “I thought you actually LIKED doing these things, and I remember thinking ‘I can’t believe she can sit here with a smile on her face while they go on, and on, and on, and on, about stuff, and a few guys actually flirting with her’--”

“Anna?! Slow down! You hate these meetings?”

Anna turned in her chair to face her sister. “Are you kidding? At first it was a good idea, and I thought we were doing good, then all the sudden we get anti-trumpet people, and murderous cat people, and I started to hate it. I only kept it going, because I thought you liked it.”

Elsa suddenly burst into laughter. Not just any laughter, but laughter that included snorting. “And I thought you loved these things!” Soon both sisters were laughing hysterically. “I mean, what exactly did she want us to do about the Olson’s cats? Their like the sweetest, oldest people in the kingdom?”

Anna slowed her laughter for a moment. “Well we do live near the ocean, and I’m sure there's a bag around her somewhere.”

Elsa gaped at her sister, giving her a playful tap on her shoulder. “Anna!” They both continued laughing until they were interrupted by someone knocking at the doors.

“Your majesty’s?” Their servant, Gerda watched the singlings curiously. “Is everything alright?”

The two composed themselves. “Of course.” Elsa managed to say between giggles. “Is that all for the day?”

“Please say yes.” Elsa hushed her sister, but both started laughing again as if they were school children.

Gerda however had a warm smile on her face, allowing the sight before her to sink in. “As a matter of fact, you have one more appointment. Mister Joseph Thomas.”

“Oh, the shepherd's boy. Well send him in.” Gerda gave a small bow, and disappeared from the meeting hall. Elsa fought to maintain herself, but out of the corner of her eye, noticed that Anna was lost in thought. “What is it?”

“Ya know. Lil Joey Thomas isn’t so Lil anymore.”

Elsa, no longer amused, rolled her eyes at her sister. “Now, now. None of that.”

“But why not?” Anna whined. “Come on Elsa, let me--”

Elsa fixed her sister with a firm stare. “Anna. No. I know you mean well, but no.”

Anna was a bit taken aback. “I-I’m sorry.”

Seeing her mistake, Elsa softened her tone. “I know, I know, but Anna I,” before she could finish her thought a young man with shaggy brown hair, hair that looked like he tried to run his hands through it, a weathered tunic, and dirt stained arms and face, shuffled nervously into the meeting hall. “We’ll talk about this later.” She whispered before turning to him. “Hello Mister Thomas, what can we do for you.”

Joseph Thomas held a hat gripped tightly in his hands and started wringing it nervously. “I don’t mean to intrude, your majesty’s, if this is a bad time--”

“Nonsense.” Anna waved off his concerns. “We always have time for old friends.” Beneath the table, Anna tapped her sisters leg with her foot, which earned her a harder tap from her sister, and continued back and forth until Joseph began to look concerned.

“What can we do for you? Mister Thomas.” Elsa repeated after one more kick into her sisters shin.

“Um. You can call me Joey,” he said with an awkward smile. “But, um, I’m here cuz, I think someone has been stealing our sheep.”

Elsa leaned forward on the large table. “That’s a pretty serious accusation Joey. Do you have any proof?”

He withdrew into himself as if he was in trouble for something. “Well… we just didn’t think much of it at first. Ya know, wolves get in, take a few sheep, that’s just kinda how it goes. But no matter how tough we make our fences, or how we try to scare them off, they just keep coming. Over the last few months more and more of our sheep are going missing.”

The sisters watched him as he grew more quiet, now digging into one of his trouser pockets. “Last night a friend of ours went out into the woods to make sure them wolves didn’t attack again.” He removed from his pockets a tattered and bloody hat, similar to the one in his hands. “When he didn’t come back I went looking, and I found this.”

They stood from their chairs, looking at the hat with horror and anxiety. “Your sure it’s his?” Elsa asked.

He nodded. “I gave it to him.”

Anna looked from the hat back to her sister. “Elsa? What do you think?”

Elas examined the hat closely, but really she had no idea what she was looking for, she just had to appear like she knew what she was doing. She cleared her throat. “Give the hat to me. I’ll give to our royal guards and send out a search party for your friend.”

He did as he was asked. “If I may, can I join them. I mean, I know those woods pretty well after all.”

Elsa thought for a moment. “Sure. In fact, we have our own expert on those mountains that should be able to help as well.” She dismissed him, promising she would fetch him before her guards would leave, and once he had left she turned to Anna who was just as worried and anxious as she was.

“Wh-What’s happened? We’ve never had something like this happen before.”

Elsa looked down at the bloody hat in her hands. “I don’t know. First things first we need to find his friend. Once he’s found, we’ll go from there.”

Anna nodded. “By the way. Who’s our expert?”

--:0:--

Kristoff tossed another of the more “lifeless” flowers aside, finally becoming satisfied with the bouquet of bright yellow flowers in his hands.

“What do ya think Sven? Will Anna love these?”

The reindeer pulling the sled, rolled his eyes with a snort. “I know this is the eighth time I’ve asked you. I just want it to be perfect and you know how much she loves yellow flowers. We have been in the mountains for a few days and I haven’t seen her in awhile.” He continued fiddling with the flowers until Sven started grunting with impatience. “Okay, okay fine, I’ll set them down.” True to his word he set them aside.

He leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands over his chest. “Are we there yet?” Thankfully he wasn’t close enough that Sven could hit him with his antlers, otherwise he would have. “Well Can you blame me?” Sven grunted again. “What? You think distance would do us some good.” The reindeer gave a small shrug with a short nod. “Yeah you're probably right. Distance does make the heart—“. The sled suddenly stopped accompanied by Sven bucking and thrashing.

“Sven!” Kristoff jumped from the sled, grabbed onto the reins and attempted to calm his friend. “Woah, woah! What’s gotten into you?”

As if understanding him perfectly, Sven settled down and motioned in the direction of some bushes off to the side of the trails. Following his line of sight, Kristoff moved his attention towards the bushes.

Gasping, falling backwards into Sven, he felt intense fear and disgust grip his insides bringing him close to vomiting.

Gagging He hopped back into the sled and kicked at the reins, “Come on! We have to tell Elsa, er, someone!” Sven breighed in acknowledgement and took off for the castle, leaving the bloody and rotted corpse behind.

#elsa frozen 2 #anna frozen 2 #frozen fanfiction #frozen #disney frozen #kristoff #hungry moon #fanfiction

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 5 years

Text

Sweet Pea//Forever?

Request: Can I get a imagine where the reader is archie twin sister ( faceclaim sophie Turner) and in a relationship with sweetpea please and thank you

“Y/n, where you going?” Your brother Archie asked you before you had the chance to slip out of the house.

“Just going to hang out with some friends.” You said quickly. “See you later.” You added and opened the door, you were halfway out when Archie called out to you again.

“I can drop you off, I’m going out too.” He offered and stood behind you.

“No, its okay. I can walk.” You argued.

“It’s no trouble. I don’t mind.” He pressed.

“I’ll be fine Archie. I can walk.” You replied quickly, he narrowed his eyes at you for a minute and then nodded.

“Whatever. Tell me if you need picking up okay.” He sighed and climbed into his car.

“I will. Have fun.” You told him happily and then jogged down the drive. You loved your brother more than anything but there were some things that were better for everyone if he didn’t know. For example that time that you and Jughead kissed when you were at a party ages ago and the small fact that you and Sweet Pea were dating and had been for the past 5 months. You decided that it was best for your twin not to know especially after all of the drama that had happened between the northside and the southside. Even though it had calmed down, you didn’t think it would be best to announce that you were dating Riverdale’s resident bad boy Sweet Pea, especially after the whole thing with the Red/Dark Circle and Archie waving a gun in Sweet Pea’s face. You and Sweet Pea decided to leave it for now and you would tell people when you thought the time was right. So far everything had been going great, you and Sweet Pea made each other incredibly happy and nobody suspected a thing. The sneaking about was fun, but sometimes it upset you because you couldn’t show everyone that you were dating Sweet Pea. Freakin’ Sweet Pea! And you didn’t like it when other girls flirted with him and you couldn’t do anything, but you knew he felt the same when boys flirted with you too. You hadn’t realised how lost in your own thoughts you had been until you found yourself stood in front of Sweet Pea’s trailer. You didn’t have a chance to knock before the front door swung open and a disheveled looking Sweet Pea stood in front of you in nothing but his underwear.

“Well isn’t that a pleasant sight to see on a fine Saturday morning.” You smirked and looked him up and down.

“Is that all I am to you, a piece of meat? My eyes are up here.” He teased making you laugh, then he moved out of the way so you could come in.

“Have you just woke up?” You asked as you leaned against his bedroom door frame.

“Yes. Its like the middle of the night.” He replied as he searched his wardrobe for some clothes.

“Sweet Pea, its 10:42.” You replied and rolled your eyes.

“My point. The middle of the night. On a Saturday I don’t get up until after midday.” He replied and eventually found a shirt.

“Ya know.” You started and walked slowly into his bedroom, closing the door behind you. “You don’t need to get dressed just yet.” You smirked and pulled the shirt out of his hands.

“I like where this is going.” He smiled and kissed you. He pushed you on the bed and pulled your shirt off you before climbing on top of you. Breaking the kiss, he kissed down your neck and chest, stopping when he got to your chest still covered by your bra. After leaving a lot of marks that you hoped you could cover, he climbed back up you and kissed you roughly, his hand trailing down to the waistband of your jeans. Before he went any further though he was interrupted by a crash from the kitchen.

“What was that?” You whispered.

“I dunno. Stay here.” He whispered back and slowly got off you.

“There is no way I’m gonna let you go out there alone. What if its a murderer, or a ghost?”

“A ghost? Really a ghost? Whats it gonna do, walk through me.” He rolled his eyes.

“You get what I mean. I’m not letting you go alone.” You argued.

“Fine.” He huffed. “But stay behind me okay.”

“Okay.” You agreed and you both slowly walked towards the bedroom door. Sweet Pea quickly pulled it open and you both cautiously stepped out of the room.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sweet Pea asked the hooded stranger who was facing away from you. It looked like they were trying to sneak back out. Before they had a chance to answer Sweet Pea had lunged towards them and pulled them back, raising his hand to hit them.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN!” A familiar voice shouted. Sweet Pea put his arm down and loosened his grip slightly. He looked down at the man and then at you.

“Archie what the fuck are you doing here?” You asked annoyed and Sweet Pea let go of him completely, taking a few steps back from him.

“What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here Y/n.” He asked equally annoyed.

“Well, I think its obvious what she’s doing here.” Sweet Pea commented and you elbowed him.

“You are not helping the situation Pea.” You mumbled and Archie looked between the two of you.

“Were you about to, you know?” Archie asked, only now realizing the lack of your clothes between you and Sweet Pea. Thank god you still had a bra and jeans on you thought.

“Well done, you should start solving mysterious with the rest of the Scooby gang again.” Sweet Pea teased again and you elbowed him again.

“And ‘Pea’? Whats that all about?” He asked.

“Thats my name.” Sweet Pea replied, clearly sick of the interruption.

“No, you’re name is Sweet Pea. I don’t think I have ever heard anyone call you Pea before.”

“Nobody has been as special as your sister. Or good in bed.” He added and laughed. Archie looked like he was about to smack him so you decided to step in.

“Okay! Time out. Sweet Pea go back to the bedroom.” You told him and Sweet Pea looked at you suggestively. “Not like that, to wait.”

“Being told what to do in my own trailer. Unbelievable.” He muttered and stomped inside.

“Archie, stay here while I, err put a shirt on okay, and then we’ll talk.” You told him and he nodded, averting his eyes from you. A few minutes later you came back out of Sweet Peas room with your shirt back on. “Do you wanna sit down?” You asked and he nodded again. “Okayyyy.” You said awkwardly and led him to the sofa. You both sat down and an uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you and you looked around the small living room. “Soooo. Where do you wanna star-”

“What the actual fuck.” Archie interrupted you, startling you slightly.

“What?” You asked.

“I’m your brother, your twin. I thought we were supposed to tell each other everything.” He said annoyed.

“Oh yeah, like you tell me everything you do, and about every single person you have dated. Are we forgetting about your weird relationship with Miss Grundy.”

“That was different.” He defended.

“Yeah, you’re right. My relationship isn’t illegal.” You retorted and he rolled his eyes at you.

“Whatever. I just thought you would tell me when you got a boyfriend. Is he your boyfriend?” He asked.

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We’ve been together for 5 months and before you say anything mean or snarky just know that he makes me happy.”

“And I could totally kick your ass.” Sweet Pea called from the bedroom and you giggled slightly while Archie rolled his eyes.

“5 months? Why didn’t you tell me. You’re my sister, I’m supposed to keep you safe.”

“She is safe you ass!” Sweet Pea called again.

“Sweet Pea!” You warned.

“Okay, okay. No more. Even though it is my trailer.” He grumbled the last part and you could hear him lie down on the bed.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you would react like this. And with everything that happened between the northside and southside, and the fight between the bulldogs and the serpents, and you waving a gun in his face. We just thought it would be better for everyone to wait until we knew there would be no judgement or arguing.” You explained. “Which clearly didn’t work.” You mumbled sadly and Archie’s expression softened.

“I’m happy for you.” He said after taking a deep breath.

“Really?” You asked surprised.

“Yeah. I’ve seen how happy you have been for the past 5 months. I didn’t know what was causing you to be so cheery all the time but I told myself if I found out what it was, I would make sure I did everything I could to make it stay, because I like seeing you happy. Especially after everything that has happened to us this year. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you Archie!!!” You squealed and hugged him making him laugh. “So you approve?” You asked hopefully.

“Yes, I approve. I can see how happy he makes you and he isn’t a bad person. I just got a shock when I came in and saw what you’s were about to do.”

“Yeah, about that. How did you know where I was?” You wondered.

“I didn’t. I knew that you must be keeping something from all of us because you had been so happy, and then when we were leaving today you were acting weird, so I thought they could be connected and I decided to follow you. I was going to walk in as soon as you got here but Jughead rang me so I had to answer that first.”

“Oh. Cool.” You shrugged. “Sweet Pea! You can come out now.”

“Oh, thank you for allowing me to come out of my own room in my own trailer.” Sweet Pea replied sarcastically and walked over to you, fully clothed and kissed you on the head.

“Well. I’ll see you at home Y/n, I’ll see you later Sweet Pea.” Archie said and stood up. It made you laugh slightly seeing your brother stood next to Sweet Pea because you could tell he was trying to be intimidating, but nothing was as intimidating as Sweet Pea. “You better not hurt my sister.” He warned.

“What are you gonna do about it red?” Sweet Pea asked and ruffled his hair.

“I mean it. Don’t hurt her. She deserves so much happiness and love, I’m depending on you to do that.” He carried on, unaffected by Sweet Pea intimidating him.

“Don’t worry. I plan on loving her and making her happy for as long as she’ll let me.” He told him firmly and Archie nodded at him before leaving.

“Well, that was.”

“Anti-climatic? You’re telling me.” He finished your sentence and you nodded. “Do you wanna finish what we started?” He asked.

“Definitley.” You agreed and jumped up from the sofa, dragging him into the bedroom. “So where were we again?” You asked.

“Oh, just about here.” He said teasingly before pushing you back on the bed and taking your shirt off again.

“I love you so much. You know that right?” You asked.

“Of course I do. And I love you too. I plan on loving you forever.” He reassured you and smiled sweetly at you.

“Forever?”

“Forever.” He replied softly and kissed you sweetly.

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x yn #imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagine #jordan connor #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor x you #jordan connor x reader

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callsign-pyro · 3 years

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I Wannabe Me

May 26th, 2020

Dear Journal Book Thingy,

Hello, my name is Park Seonghwa, I am 21 years old, and this is not a diary. I am the oldest member of ATEEZ, this means I have to take care of my members well and keep them from doing a plethora of increasingly idiotic things. Unfortunately, this means I don’t have much time to myself these days with packed schedules and the kids doing their things. I must confess that as much as I love my members, I wish I didn’t have to hide things from them, from food to my identity. I Park Seonghwa, am genderfluid, it’s really hard having to always be a boy even when I want to be a girl, I can’t have girly clothes for fear of rousing the boys’ suspicions, I have to hide everything that could be perceived as feminine very well. Today was an overall good day save for the fact that I had to look like a boy, but I want to stay in the position I am in now so I will deal with it.

Seonghwa put down his pen and closed the book. Sighing he began to look for a place to hide his journal so nobody read it, in the end he put it in his underwear drawer where he hoped no one would look. Hongjoong should be home soon and then they could all eat dinner together.

“I should start cooking dinner.” Seonghwa said to himself. As he walked to the kitchen, he stopped off at Yeosang and Wooyoung’s room he heard all of the boys talking about the filming we were doing for a reality show on Mnet (disgusting platform) called Salary Lupin they were chattering about the filming we would be doing tomorrow. The episode is supposed to be about a workshop that ends in murder. The thing is I am very nervous because I am going to be dropping a huge hint about my gender identity on them as the producer asked me to take a picture dressed as a girl who is supposed to be my twin sister in the show.

Seonghwa opened the door to the room and stuck his head in “Guys please come and help me cook dinner now” he said. They others all groaned but got up and followed him down to the kitchen. “Hyung why can’t we just order food from somewhere?” San asked. “Because it is not healthy to eat takeout every day Sannie” was the reply. The boys started making dinner and just before they finished an exhausted looking Hongjoong came home.

“Welcome home Hongjoongie. How was your day?” Seonghwa asked.

“It was ok. I didn’t get everything I wanted to get done, done. You?”

“About the same”

I had been worrying about my inability to switch for a while now because it really impacts me mentally and physically, what makes it worse is that the members call me eomma a lot and it makes me want to be female, but I can’t be. However on our off days when I can go elsewhere, I sometimes get to be female. Anyways, back to the present day. All of the members have finished eating and after some cajoling finished cleaning up and have now gone off to do their own things. I however am currently in Hongjoong and my bedroom experiencing some dysphoria, I feel that I cannot go on like this and will have to go out and switch. Lucky for me I have a friend from school that knows and will help me keep my secret and change genders from time to time. I will go the day after tomorrow as it is an off day.

The Next Day While Filming

After all the rooms were searched to find the murderer, everybody all met in a room to brief each other on what had been found, who each person thought was the murderer and why. When it got to what had been found in Seonghwa’s room Yeosang came up with a clever theory that Seonghwa was both male and female and his female side had killed the PD, while this was partially true in reality in the show it wasn’t true at all because Seonghwa had a twin sister and all, however the fact that Yeosang thought this made Seonghwa worried that his secret would be discovered. After he had cleared up the situation on the show, he thought he did a good job of acting nonchalant about the whole switching genders thing, did the rest of the members think so; no, they thought he was being suspicious. When filming finished Seonghwa not at all suspiciously (note the sarcasm) hopped to the car and waited. After arriving home and having dinner Seonghwa quickly packed an overnight bag making the boys even more suspicious, so they quickly convened and decided to tail him if he didn’t tell them where he was going.

“Where are you going Hyung?” Wooyoung asked

“Out. Why?”

“No reason”

With that Seonghwa was out the door. The other members were quickly on his tail as he turned a corner looked left and right then hopped on a motorcycle with another person driving.

All of the other members who were waiting in a car quickly stepped on the gas and followed him and the mystery person at a respectable distance. The pair stopped at an apartment building, got off the bike and went into the building. The rest of Ateez followed in suit after getting to the door of the apartment Seonghwa and his friend were in they decided to go as not to raise suspicion and come back in about an hour.

In The Apartment

“Hwa are you okay you don’t look so good.”

“Yea I’m okay Aerie. Can u help me switch things up a little?”

“Absolutely. I’ve still got some of your old clothes here wanna go pick something out while I set up for hair and makeup so we can go out and go to a café or go clubbing or whatever.”

When Seonghwa had finished picking out their clothes they came back and saw that Aerie was dressed and ready to do their hair and makeup.

“Where should we go tonight?”

“I’m thinking the club cause I just wanna let loose.”

“Idol life not treating you well?”

“It’s amazing to follow my passion, but I hate not being able to just be myself.”

“Let’s not talk about work anymore and just have fun tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They started doing their hair and makeup and an hour flew by in no time and they were ready to party. However, things weren’t going to go as planned tonight. As Aerie reached for the door the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole she saw the other 7 members of Ateez at the door.

“Um. Hwa your friends are at the door. What should I do?”

“If we ignore them for a while maybe they’ll go away”

Then Hongjoong started knocking.

“Go hide somewhere, I’ll deal with them.”

Seonghwa quickly ran off to hide somewhere in the apartment. When Seonghwa was out of sight Aerie opened the door.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“Where’s Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asked looking both worried and upset

“Who?”

“Look, we saw him come in here with you. Where are you hiding our hyung?” Wooyoung scowled

“Come in.” Aerie sighed

She quickly went off to go inform Seonghwa of what happened.

“They’re insistent Hwa. What should we do? We’ll have to go out and face them at some point they’re not leaving.”

“Better sooner than later I guess. But I don’t wanna go.”

“I know, but I’m pretty sure they think we’re dating or something.”

“Yikes. I’d never date you.”

“Likewise”

The two quickly made up their minds and then began contemplating if Seonghwa should go out as is or change back into the Seonghwa the members knew. They decided against this as it was a good opportunity to come out and Aerie could beat them up if necessary.

In the Living Room

“What is taking them so long?” San asked

“How should we know; they are probably trying to figure out how to tell us that they are dating.” Yeosang said

Then the door to the bedroom opened and out came two women, one of them looked a lot like their Seonghwa hyung.

“Seonghwa hyungie, is that you?” Jongho asked hesitantly

“Yes Jong-ah it’s me but I’m not Seonghwa hyung.”

“What are you then?” Wooyoung interjected

“Unnie stop stalling and get on with it.”

“Unnie? What is going on here?” Yunho asked

“Guys I’m genderfluid and right now I am female so you can call me noona or unnie, whatever suits your tastes.”

“Is this why you were acting super weird when I brought up the gender theory while filming?” Yeosang questioned

“Mayyybbbeee it is”

“Okay now that we are cool, anybody got questions.” Aerie said

“Um. Just a couple.”

So the next half hour was spent explaining genderfluidity to the boys.

“Noona?” San said

“Yes?” both Seonghwa and Aerie said

“If the gender theory was true, do you also like me?”

“Not like that I don’t”

“Ok”

Mingi on the other hand was getting acquainted with Aerie, asking her things like how she knew Seonghwa and why Seonghwa hadn’t told anybody about their gender identity. Hongjoong was listening to this conversation and occasionally asking questions or adding his own bits of wisdom. Suddenly Wooyoung asked the question he had been waiting to ask all night.

“Are you guys dating?”

Simultaneously the answer was “Ewwww, no” and “Dear god no”

“Oh.” Wooyoung said pouting

Mingi who was getting tired no was leaning on Aerie and starting to fall asleep on her.

“Cute baby.” Aerie nodded in reference to Mingi

“I think you should all go back to the dorm cause I don’t have enough space here to house all of you comfortably.”

“Would you like to come over Noona?” Hongjoong asked

“I’d love to. But Hongjoong?”

“Yes?”

“I’m younger than you so don’t call me noona.”

“How old are you?”

“23 same age as you but my birthday is in December.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

All eight members of Ateez and one Aerie arrived back at the dorm and went inside to get ready for bed as all of them were tuckered out from all of the explaining and the information that had been revealed tonight.

“Noona please sleep with me” Mingi whined to Aerie

“Alright, alright but no funny business.” Aerie sighed agreeing

After doing their nightly routines everybody climbed into bed and went to sleep. At last Seonghwa no longer had to hide their identity from their members and could go around being whatever they wanted to be at that particular time.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez hongjoong #ateez holdings #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #gender nonconforming #genderfluid #lgbtq #fanfic

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quietya · 7 years

Text

September 2017’s #quietYA Picks

Hi all! So, YA Interrobang is on hiatus for the rest of the year and I already had a lot of obligations, so I kept forgetting to put this together for y’all without someone giving me a deadline. But I didn’t want to miss out on highlighting these books since September was a HUGE month for new releases (and so is October - that list will be coming out later this week) and I want to make sure y’all didn’t miss some epicness.

The Girl with the Red Balloon by Katherine Locke

Release date: September 1

When sixteen-year-old Ellie Baum accidentally time-travels via red balloon to 1988 East Berlin, she’s caught up in a conspiracy of history and magic. She meets members of an underground guild in East Berlin who use balloons and magic to help people escape over the Wall—but even to the balloon makers, Ellie’s time travel is a mystery. When it becomes clear that someone is using dark magic to change history, Ellie must risk everything—including her only way home—to stop the process.

Glow by Megan E. Bryant

Release date: September 1

When thrift-store aficionado Julie discovers a series of antique paintings with hidden glowing images that are only visible in the dark, she wants to learn more about the artist. In her search, she uncovers a century-old romance and the haunting true story of the Radium Girls, young women who used radioactive paint to make the world's first glow-in-the-dark products—and ultimately became radioactive themselves. As Julie’s obsession with the paintings mounts, truths about the Radium Girls—and her own complicated relationships—are revealed. But will she uncover the truth about the luminous paintings before putting herself and everyone she loves at risk?

Alexander Hamilton, Revolutionary by Martha Brockenbrough

Release date: September 5

Discover the incredible true story behind the Tony Award-winning musical – Hamilton’s early years in the Caribbean; his involvement in the Revolutionary War; and his groundbreaking role in government, which still shapes American government today. Easy to follow, this gripping account of a founding father and American icon features illustrations, maps, timelines, infographics, and additional information ranging from Hamilton's own writings to facts about fashion, music, etiquette and custom of the times, including best historical insults and the etiquette of duels.

She, Myself, and I by Emma Young

Release date: September 5

Rosa—an eighteen-year-old from London—is quadriplegic. Her doting (if a bit stifling) parents and charming older brother are her entire world. But Rosa yearns for more; so when a doctor from Boston chooses her to be a candidate for a risky experimental surgery, she and her family move to Massachusetts in search of a miracle. Sylvia—a girl from a small town in New England—is brain-dead. Her parents have donated Sylvia’s body to Rosa’s cause. Rosa wakes up from surgery as the first successful brain transplant survivor—by all accounts, a medical anomaly. She should be ecstatic, but she can’t help wondering with increasing obsession who Sylvia was and what her life was like. Rosa’s fascination with her new body and her desire to understand Sylvia prompt a road trip based on discovery and a surprising new romance. But will Rosa be able to solve the dilemma of her identity? Who is she, in another girl’s body?

All About Mia by Lisa Williamson

Release date: September 12

"That girl is such a mess." "Why can't she be like her sisters?" Blah, blah, blah. That's all Mia Campbell-Richardson ever hears. From her parents, her teachers, and her never-do-wrong older sister, Grace. So what if she parties too hard and studies too little? Who cares if she tends to end up with the wrong guys or says the wrong things at the wrong times? She's still a good friend (except when she isn't). And she still knows the way things should go (except when they don't). When Grace comes home with shocking news, Mia hopes that it's finally Grace's turn to get into trouble. But instead it's Mia whose life spirals out of control.

Odd & True by Cat Winters

Release date: September 12

Trudchen grew up hearing Odette’s stories of their monster-slaying mother and a magician’s curse. But now that Tru’s older, she’s starting to wonder if her older sister’s tales were just comforting lies, especially because there’s nothing fantastic about her own life—permanently disabled and in constant pain from childhood polio. In 1909, after a two-year absence, Od reappears with a suitcase supposedly full of weapons and a promise to rescue Tru from the monsters on their way to attack her. But it’s Od who seems haunted by something. And when the sisters’ search for their mother leads them to a face-off with the Leeds Devil, a nightmarish beast that’s wreaking havoc in the Mid-Atlantic states, Tru discovers the peculiar possibility that she and her sister—despite their dark pasts and ordinary appearances—might, indeed, have magic after all.

Water in May by Ismee Amiel Williams

Release date: September 12

Fifteen-year-old Mari Pujols believes that the baby she’s carrying will finally mean she’ll have a family member who will love her deeply and won’t ever leave her—not like her mama, who took off when she was eight; or her papi, who’s in jail; or her abuela, who wants as little to do with her as possible. But when doctors discover a potentially fatal heart defect in the fetus, Mari faces choices she never could have imagined. Surrounded by her loyal girl crew, her off-and-on boyfriend, and a dedicated doctor, Mari navigates a decision that could emotionally cripple the bravest of women. But both Mari and the broken-hearted baby inside her are fighters; and it doesn’t take long to discover that this sick baby has the strength to heal an entire family.

You Bring the Distant Near by Mitali Perkins

Release date: September 12

Five girls. Three generations. One great American love story. You Bring the Distant Near explores sisterhood, first loves, friendship, and the inheritance of culture--for better or worse. Ranee, worried that her children are losing their Indian culture; Sonia, wrapped up in a forbidden biracial love affair; Tara, seeking the limelight to hide her true self; Shanti, desperately trying to make peace in the family; Anna, fighting to preserve Bengal tigers and her Bengali identity--award-winning author Mitali Perkins weaves together a sweeping story of five women at once intimately relatable and yet entirely new.

Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu

Release date: September 19

Vivian Carter is fed up. Fed up with her small-town Texas high school that thinks the football team can do no wrong. Fed up with sexist dress codes and hallway harassment. But most of all, Viv Carter is fed up with always following the rules. Viv’s mom was a punk rock Riot Grrrl in the ’90s, so now Viv takes a page from her mother’s past and creates a feminist zine that she distributes anonymously to her classmates. She’s just blowing off steam, but other girls respond. Pretty soon Viv is forging friendships with other young women across the divides of cliques and popularity rankings, and she realizes that what she has started is nothing short of a girl revolution.

Murder, Magic, and What We Wore by Kelly Jones

Release date: September 19

The year is 1818, the city is London, and our heroine, 16-year-old Annis Whitworth, has just learned that her father is dead and all his money is missing. And so, of course, she decides to become a spy. Annis always suspected that her father was a spy, so following in his footsteps to unmask his killer makes perfect sense. Alas, it does not make sense to England’s current spymasters—not even when Annis reveals that she has the rare magical ability to sew glamours: garments that can disguise the wearer completely. Well, if the spies are too pigheaded to take on a young woman of quality, then Annis will take them on. She’ll follow the clues her father left behind and discover what befell him. She’ll prove she can sew an impenetrable disguise. She’ll earn a living without stooping to become a—shudder—governess. It can’t be any harder than navigating the London social season, can it?

Speak Easy, Speak Love by McKelle George

Release date: September 19

After she gets kicked out of boarding school, seventeen-year-old Beatrice goes to her uncle’s estate on Long Island. But Hey Nonny Nonny is more than just a rundown old mansion. Beatrice’s cousin, Hero, runs a struggling speakeasy out of the basement—one that might not survive the summer. Along with Prince, a poor young man determined to prove his worth; his brother John, a dark and dangerous agent of the local mob; Benedick, a handsome trust-fund kid trying to become a writer; and Maggie, a beautiful and talented singer; Beatrice and Hero throw all their efforts into planning a massive party to save the speakeasy. Despite all their worries, the summer is beautiful, love is in the air, and Beatrice and Benedick are caught up in a romantic battle of wits that their friends might be quietly orchestrating in the background.

The Victoria in My Head by Janelle Milanes

Release date: September 19

Victoria Cruz inhabits two worlds: In one, she is a rock star, thrashing the stage with her husky voice and purple-streaked hair. In the other, currently serving as her reality, Victoria is a shy teenager with overprotective Cuban parents, who sleepwalks through her life at the prestigious Evanston Academy. Unable to overcome the whole paralyzing-stage-fright thing, Victoria settles for living inside her fantasies, where nothing can go wrong and everything is set to her expertly crafted music playlists. But after a chance encounter with an unattainably gorgeous boy named Strand, whose band seeks a lead singer, Victoria is tempted to turn her fevered daydreams into reality. To do that, she must confront her insecurities and break away from the treadmill that is her life. Suddenly, Victoria is faced with the choice of staying on the path she’s always known and straying off-course to find love, adventure, and danger.

A Short History of the Girl Next Door by Jared Reck

Release date: September 26

Fifteen-year-old Matt Wainwright is in turmoil. He can’t tell his lifelong best friend, Tabby, how he really feels about her; his promising basketball skills are being overshadowed by his attitude on the court, and the only place he feels normal is in English class, where he can express his inner thoughts in quirky poems and essays. Matt is desperately hoping that Tabby will reciprocate his feelings; but then Tabby starts dating Liam Branson, senior basketball star and all-around great guy. Losing Tabby to Branson is bad enough; but, as Matt soon discovers, he’s close to losing everything that matters most to him.

Starfish by Akemi Dawn Bowman

Release date: September 26

Kiko Himura has always had a hard time saying exactly what she’s thinking. With a mother who makes her feel unremarkable and a half-Japanese heritage she doesn’t quite understand, Kiko prefers to keep her head down, certain that once she makes it into her dream art school, Prism, her real life will begin. But then Kiko doesn’t get into Prism, at the same time her abusive uncle moves back in with her family. So when she receives an invitation from her childhood friend to leave her small town and tour art schools on the west coast, Kiko jumps at the opportunity in spite of the anxieties and fears that attempt to hold her back. And now that she is finally free to be her own person outside the constricting walls of her home life, Kiko learns life-changing truths about herself, her past, and how to be brave.

#quietya #this is your mod speaking #book lists #wndb #mogai

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ratherhavetheblues · 4 years

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INGMAR BERGMAN’S ‘THE SERPENT’S EGG’ “You’ve been thinking much too much, lately…”

The films of Ingmar Bergman are all of a piece. They endeavor, from many angles, to make sense of the powers that be. This concern is particularly pressing in regard to the work today, namely, The Serpent’s Egg (1977). On the basis of many vicissitudes of Bergman’s history at that production, a whole industry arose, of delighting in what seemed to have been a weakening of confidence—on the very flimsy basis of punitively catching Bergman straying from his vigorous roots. Were the wags to have troubled themselves to comprehend those roots (well disclosed), they would have dropped that childish game and got down to business.

At the risk of belaboring the obvious, we must turn to recognize our guide’s commitment to taking on a field of very complex physicality. At the outset of his career—in the film, Sawdust and Tinsel (1953), with the figure of Alma and her brief but impressive ecstatic balance; and in the film, The Seventh Seal (1957), with Jof and Marie, and their child hopefully one day excelling in acrobatics and juggling—we have an invitation to a party of unending carnal delivery.

If you think that tax problems; turning away from a homeland to resettle in Germany; and linking with a Hollywood bagman (Dino De Laurentiis [in fact, at that time, only recently based in the USA]; and with involvement in La Strada, Nights of Cabira, and Blue Velvet] could destabilize the resolve of Bergman’s interests, you don’t know what this priority entails. Moreover, there was cinematographer, Sven Nykvist, still in place and game for risking new visuals with unusually big bucks.)

Relocating to Munich, he would have been strongly reminded of his frequent (though unspoken as such) engagement with fascism, that simplistic and often murderous keening for absolute, homogeneous gratifications. To date, his most probing construct of the phenomenon of such arrested, facile obsession resided in his film, The Passion of Anna (1969). There, in a remote, rural corner of the already remote Sweden, a woman, namely Anna, manages to spearhead a one-person massacre on the pretext that her supposed entitlement to having things entirely her pedantic and dim way has gone awry. Though very clever, her scheme could not have reached its successes without the complicity of a muddled artisan/ farmer, namely, Andreas. With the windfall from Los Angeles, Bergman would seize the moment to revisit the serpent that was Anna. But this time Anna would be a jackboot mob, while a Saint Anna Clinic would oversee the early phase of a tinkering of wanton, sadistic “experimentation” with human subjects. Another muddled artist, namely, Abel (and you know, sort of, where that’s going), teams up with his widowed sister-in-law; and urban decadence replaces the hot-house sophistication of Anna’s hosts, Elis and Eva, in the country. It is the Eva-moment here, namely, Manuela, who, along with Abel, make The Serpent’s Egg a thrilling study of large-scale cowardice and small-scale love.

Although there will be here the usual dazzling theatrical-dramatic display in order to convey the corridors of problematics—including a number of failing oracles— this film (quick to exploit the financial heft) becomes more a filmic tone-poem than dramaturgy. Therefore, I want to start out (the vehicle’s venue being chilly Berlin, in 1923) with the panoply of woolen apparel. One of Anna’s cheap coups was slashing up a flock of disinterested—thereby superior to her—sheep. And that bloodbath becomes a visceral presence as to savoring a unique progress amidst protracted distemper. In mythology, Abel was a shepherd. In cinematography, Abel, a bit of a fashion-plate with his two-toned dancing shoes (seemingly ready to star on Broadway or in Hollywood), sports a cute woolen fedora which, were you to concentrate solely on it, might make one believe that he is quite alive. (To complete the effect, while disregarding his face, he wears a dark tan woolen jacket over a light tan woolen shirt. His woolen scarf is black. His woolen pants correspond to the rest of the ensemble to complete an impression of careful selection and taste.) Just before we first meet him, there is the film’s opening scene of a throng of Berliners moving toward us in slow-motion—also in woolens, with some of the women’s cloche hats resembling sheep heads—and resembling a push to market. The murky, black and white cinematography there (with the film actually in color) elicits a venerable state of affairs; and beyond that, there is the perpetual gloom upon Abel’s visage, and his veering body language. He looks up Manuela (a risqué dancer at a cabaret; but more than that), with news that his brother—once being a member with the other two in a circus act, and such a pain in the ass she had to dump him—had shot the so-called, “Max,” through his throat depositing his brains all over the back of his bed. The show had to go on after her departure; but a career-ending accident to the Caine left the boys in a crisis—softy Abel losing his nerve to start afresh upon major creation. Abel might be a write-off. But, bright as a button, Manuela, has found a gig that works for her. Though the patrons would not know about it—and perhaps even would prefer something more predictable—she (true to the mystery of her trapeze practice) has migrated to that shock and awe known as German Expressionist dance (Neuer Tanz), where body action gets uncanny. That night, bedecked in curly green sheep hair, she splays her legs and, pounding out some Germanic chant, becomes a possessed puppet or doll, a seductive siren, or a creature crying out during a slaughter. Abel, the former risk-taker and maven of alternate sublime, scowls and, as he no doubt found very early at his family mansion, adopts a hard line toward the great unwashed. Max (the elevated) and Abel (the sweet) had, no doubt, an early spree of rebellion (always mindful of a generous safety net, but going on to dispense with it from out of their pitiful Bohemian pride).

Getting to the bottom of this crisis of mood will have been assisted by two other figures—his dare-devil, former boss, from a past at that mixed fun-time; and the Chief of Police, drawing from the “survivor” particulars about the actions of two English speakers, lacking German (and one, Manuela, European of unknown background) in the crash of post-World War I Germany. He tells the cop and us, “I was born in Philadelphia [the liberty town]. My folks come from Riga, in Latvia. The three of us came to Berlin” [after Max’s accident]. Back, close to the stage where Manuela is doing pretty well, someone addresses the guy expensively dressed, not doing well at all, “Did we smoke our first cigarette together? Amalfi, 26 years ago. Our cottages were next door to each other. Rebecca, right?” Abel rudely rushes away. But his Eurotrash, overstuffed appetites don’t get lost.

Going back to the film’s beginning can better establish the pitch of that (spent) force. Coming home at dark, staggering from a chronic drunkenness, he almost relishes the horribleness of his shabby existence. “A pack of cigarettes costs 400 billion Marks, and almost everybody has lost faith in both the future and the present…” Overheated, melodramatic gestures like that—extending to the work’s title—saturate the dimensions of the double protagonists. Entering what the brothers have been able to afford (and perhaps the mainspring of the suicide by the only employable sibling), Abel pauses at the foyer where a large room accommodates a dinner/ prayer meeting. At the open doorway, there is a panel of geometric, mutedly colored décor, rather closely resembling the stained-glass windows of Andreas, whose fecklessness is no match for a filthy brute like Anna. Abel is arrested by the warm and gentle union, its hymns and the piety of the assembly. He breaks out in a rare smile. Tears stream down his cheeks. Recall the sudden and short-lived passion of Andreas on noting the uncanniness of the sun while he does repairs on his roof. Consider the difference. Notice the maudlin state of our protagonist here. Also notice that, on encountering the suicide, Abel rushes back and forth in his lostness, the same Samuel Beckett-rattled back and forth at the end of The Passion of Anna, where the killer drives away and the not tough-enough artist resorts to signs of absurdity.

On following Manuela’s exit from the stage that first night, we become even more vividly aware of her (perhaps fleeting) sensuous priorities. Her departure is given super-closeup, in such a way that areas of her body and her costume define her by region rather than individual. So sanguine is she with her innovation, she seems incapable of fathoming the uniqueness of the register, the pitch of intensity and rigors which could very well spell a tiny range of interaction. A person like Abel, now reduced to parasitical opportunism, would very clearly regard her as a precious dreamer—a precious dreamer with a cash-flow. A person like Manuela, who was fortunate in being in high favor by her landlady/ oracle (who was also an aficionado of radical design [Jugendstil, “Youth-Style”]), might have been shown invaluable wisdom by the friend, were the ancient not fearful of the subject conflict—secretly witnessing Abel’s stealing the other protagonist’s savings and doing nothing about it but telling him, later, “I’m very attached to Manuela. If you forgive me my saying so, I’m as fond of her as if she were my daughter. She’s so kind, naïve [here giving him a hard look]…It’s that there’s all the terrible things going around. I think your sister-in-law is heading for trouble. The thing about Manuela is she doesn’t defend herself. Nothing must happen to her…” Such a gambit being itself a tonal terrain of deadly retreat.

Wearing her woolen cloche on the tram ride home from the night, she finds Abel crumpled up in the doorway to her flat. Holding him up, she unwittingly brings him to the money; but treasures of the specialty of the house emanate along with her own modest effects. Such incisiveness, however, must wait till next morning; and, even then, he starts by blathering away about the family next to them, at Amalfi, where the master of the house, a Supreme Court Justice, would cut open a farm animal to see the heart still beating. As Manuela puts together a breakfast, we notice on the austere but carefully incisive wallpaper, two lithographic circus posters—one, depicting a man and a woman, upside-down, clinging by their feet to a trapeze; and the other showing a woman bare-back rider. No one refers to them for a moment; but you know she would have had long, penetrating times in their presence—not only about the vignettes but the uptakes of the wider tones. Even though he forces upon her a wad of low-value currency, explaining, “You should take the money before I spend it on booze,” she imagines that they could dazzle once again as a high-precision circus act. Perhaps she banks upon her charisma to overcome any obstacle. And, therein, a mood of tailspin burns brightly. The shrunken heart, responds with, “I don’t know. What good is it without Max?.. It’s a nightmare…” She embraces him, in a bid to lift his spirits. “We’re going to do it,” she enthuses. “You think too much… We can do a new number, just you and me. We could make magic. I know a wonderful magician. We could take over his show!” (The initiatives being far from coherent. But here we occupy a play of mood, which impacts in its own ways.) In reply, there’s the one-note, “I don’t know. Since this business with Max…” (And he cries.) Despite the discouragement coming her way, she tries the coquetry, “You’ll be my big brother. We’re going to stick together now…” That his repetitive dirge—“I wake up from a nightmare…”—becomes ludicrous, only confirms that a whole other world buoys her. As she iterates, “Everything is alright! We have everything we need,” it is that “which we need” which possibly turns things thing around for her, leaving the pessimist far behind. Can her upbeat heart hang on? He tells for her his seeing Nazi goons getting away with murder the night before. And she tiptoes around her second job as a hooker for the wealthy. She moves along with, “You’ve been thinking much too much, lately…You’re awfully tired…” (Unspoken and probably confusedly, would be, “You’ve been thinking like and old man!”) “I’m going to look after you, you know… And in a few days everything will be much better. You’ll see…” As she goes to her bemusing job (which he tries to treat as the end of the world), she’s in furs.

The smashing of Manuela’s inadequate roots is both dismaying and uplifting. Abel is obliged to return to the police station to settle details; and thereby the money he has just stolen is confiscated by a matter of routine. At the tail end of his bizarre and revealing brush with justice, Manuela appears there (as hopefully finding a pedestrian clue to what was in fact a fear of life itself, but in hopes that Abel might know what happened to her money). She’s seated at a table, and the brother-in-law walks past her without looking her way. This, by way of a visit to Abel being held for information about Max and a slew of other corpses. He silently brazens his involvement, and adds, “Luckily, I’m in charge of Max’s money…” As the interview proceeds, she loses her concentration, and Abel faults her for lagging. She asks, “Please be nice to me…”

On the day the landlady demands the rat out, leading to Manuela’s angry rupture of a wise friend, our protagonist rallies a bit in visiting a church. But we are now approaching such a meltdown of cogent vision and tone—acceptance of Abel a form of insanity—that the narrative commences to sport auras of (largely, American film) clichés—becoming, in themselves, not only a warning but a fissure leading to depths. (Bergman seizing the singularity for all its worth.) Although he easily stalks her to the site, he totally misses the action. First a flock of candles, with Abel back in the gloom. Overkill, where three would do the trick. She addresses the eccentric American priest; but he’s, at this point, distracted. Bing Crosby would never have slipped that way. She soldiers on: “My father was a magician. My mother was a circus rider. I’ve been in circuses all my life [unlike the upstarts]… I need to speak to somebody, do you understand?… Oh, this guilt is too much for me! And I feel it’s my fault that Max committed suicide… Now I have to take care of Max’s brother. And it’s even worse! Why he’s just like Max. He never says what he’s thinking. He just charges ahead with his feelings and he looks so frightened. And I tried to tell him that we’ll help each other… That’s only words to him. And everything I say is useless. The only real thing is fear! And I’m sick. I don’t know what’s wrong…” The priest asks, “Would you like me to pray for you?”/ “Think that will help?” she asks. “I don’t know,” the expert admits. They kneel together and soon she wonders, “Is it a special prayer?”/ “Yes,” he finds the cogency to declare. (A vehicle, that is, which she’s been delighted by many times in the past; only to let it slip away.) He adds, “We live so far away from God. So far away that God doesn’t hear us when we call out… So we must help each other give each other the forgiveness a remote God denies it. I tell you, you are forgiven for your husband’s death. You’re no longer to blame. [The priest having read between the lines.] I beg your forgiveness for my apathy and my indifference. Do you forgive me?”/ “Yes,” she rather confusedly replies. “I forgive you.” This elicits the clang sound repeatedly sounding at the beginning of the film, sounding to the roots. “That’s all we can do,” he closes. (Leaving the question, “Is that really all we can do?” Could it be that the powers-that-be require our dance/ acrobatic initiative to really rock? Could it be that asking is the wrong gambit. Active partnering would entail graces enough.)

Manuela’s pristine partnering becoming rapidly collapsing, she finds a workhouse connected with Saint Anna’s Clinic (“Please say it’s nice…”), and Abel let’s her know it’s beneath his dignity. On to the cabaret which, that night, is visited by a Nazi unit (one of the highlights being the owner’s beaten to a pulp, somewhat like, much later, the beating from Cliff to an enemy, in Tarantino’s Once upon a Time in Hollywood. Intense action often drawing upon a volume of sensibility missing the mark.) But the most telling moment, from our perspective, is the spectacle (seen from a bird’s eye view) of our protagonist in her avant-garde costume consumed by a terrified throng. (The collapse of mood being our investigative task.) She goes to work in the clinic’s laundry, and she becomes ill from pneumonia. She tells Abel, now working nearby in a vast archive (apt for someone locked away in the past), “I don’t think I can stand it here.” In an echo of her best self, she smiles and says, “It could have been worse.” That night, he beats her up; and melodramatic complaint takes over. “I just say, if you won’t believe, you can go! I’ve done everything to keep us together. I just can’t go on any more…” She hammers on the table. All the savoir faire having abandoned her. Abel cuts out and walks past a group butchering a horse that was once a going concern. The horse’s beautiful head was seen intact, to bring to bear the powers of a creature the vivacity of which far surpasses domestic exigencies. The one who couldn’t stay returns to Manuela’s corpse. He shakes her brutally, hoping to bring her back to life. He had picked her to the bones. (Those faulting Bergman’s cosmic vehicle in preference to Bob Fosse’s domestic and political musical, namely, Cabaret [1972], have been barking up the wrong tree.)

During his stroll to escape Manuela’s last ditch feeling of affection, he activates a study of the difference between Sportin’ Life and lively sport. After stuffing Marks into a barkeeper’s mouth and going on to smash with his bottle the window of a lovingly maintained woolen’s shop, he uses his plush dancing shoes to hoofer-style disappear to an alleyway replete with a young hooker. Once again, as with the raid, the scene is taken from a considerable distance, and at a rather stagey height. His opening, “Go away,” has about it many Broadway tinctures. (The alley is clearly a sound stage.) “Come with me! It’s warm. You can have it any way you want…” “Go to hell,” he studiously emotes. She chuckles, and her delivery seems from Iowa. “Where do you think you are—at Times Square?” she sweetly fusses. A muted honky-tonk drifts their way; and he goes her way. (The sentimental film, Going my Way (1944), with its unorthodox priest, is all over the vignette of Manuela and the American clergyman. Classics on the move. Distress in the mood. The millions to make this film/ tone poem were not wasted, as ridiculous trolls would have it.)

Disabled Abel and the night worker enter a brothel bristling with poor breeding. The prevailing trick soon reveals itself to be humiliation of a crippled, impotent and noisily opinionated black. Though a show-biz tragedy is ready to make you squirm, those of us, remembering Bergman, recall the film, Sawdust and Tinsel (1953), and its routed ringmaster becoming a figure of public and private defeat. With so much slippage in the air, this episode puts us in need of finding a way that works. Manuela’s mother was a circus rider, perhaps making waves in the midst of that corporate collapse. A lady clown, Alma, dazzled for a few moments much of the army, before subsiding to tending to an old bear, whom the beaten boss shot to death, in a cowardly attempt not to look weak. But with the specifics of the brothel, we enter upon a measure of consistently oblivious frenzy for the sake of the enjoyment of empty advantage. The new friends inhabit the world of George Gershwin’s opera, Porgy and Bess (1935). Cowardly Abel toys (like the opera’s villain, “Crown”) with a crippled and fiercely loquacious, Porgy, who bids, to neither sexual nor social effect, to rescue, Bess. “You’re tryin’ to kill me! You’re tryin’ to fuck me! I can’t fuck! Worst bitch in the whole damn world! She’s got fangs, I saw them!” The object of this fury laughs. “That big mouth bitch! I’m not a queer. That’s a goddamn lie!” (A clown show, drifting over to the beaten ringmaster; and the beaten has-been!) Abel would also double here as cynical, “Sportin’ Life,” always the vicious oracle. Abel bets him to come. More humiliation. More of Saint Anna and her security of delivery.

Our denouement entails further rigidity against the prospects of that cogency we’re tracking becoming widespread. There are two instances of Abel’s being the beneficiary of oldsters’ letting their sunny hopes prevail over what is a rather obvious phenomenon of failure to thrive. He crosses paths with the impresario whom he and Max and Manuela starred for. The elder is supple and intense; Abel might as well be headed for palliative care. He disregards the question, “How are Max and Manuela?” In spite of this, the gambler insists, “The circus needs you!” Invited to lunch at a posh restaurant, Abel consumes much alcohol in slight time. He also, from out of a life-long distemper, plunks his sheep skin hat over the head of a nude sculpture. His host tells him, “Nowadays I can get any dance star I want. They all know I pay in dollars…” Disregarding the rudeness and alcoholism, he switches to the day’s newspaper and regards the actions there as more entertainment. He thrills to, “… the massacre of Christians by the Jews… the Bolsheviks coming to Germany and stumbling over the bodies of your women and children…” The showman asks, “Why don’t you say something?” In reply he produces a pedantic doctrine which Anna, the security maven, could have written. “I don’t care about political crap. The Jews are as stupid as everybody. If a Jew gets into trouble it’s his own fault. He gets into trouble because he acts stupid. I’m not gonna get stupid, so I’m not gonna get into trouble.” Tone deaf through the whole exercise.

The second senior, who could have anticipated aberrant performance in Abel, is the Chief of Police, who misreads peevishness for commitment. The Chief has an idea that Max was only one of a large number of victims to a mass assailant, not quite as slick as Anna. The investigation, involving the sibling, begins where Max maxed-out and a hurdy-gurdy man with a little monkey gives the street some shine. On to the morgue, where the person of interest touches upon more than a limited errancy. A series of blood-spattered shrouds confront them; and each station has a link to Anna. Max’s suicide may be light years away from Johan’s, but comparisons can divulge important truths. Abel recognizes the first woman to be shown as having been engaged to his brother. At another perspective, there was Anna forcibly tearing her (understandably fed-up) husband away from a woman he preferred to her. (Cause of death, drowning.) Another incident gives Abel the sense of recalling his father. Repeating the outrage of Anna’s leaving Johan (a father-figure to Andreas) to seem to the world to have butchered a flock of sheep, which brought upon the innocent man such cruelty that he committed suicide, the other father would be another kill of hers. The Chief adds, “Someone stuck a hypodermic needle into this man’s heart. It probably took several hours…” Then there is an aged woman whom Abel has seen but can’t fully detail. “I think she delivered papers. I used to meet her at Frau Lanci’s boarding house. Once she helped me up the stairs when I was drunk, too drunk to make it on my own. Her name is Maria Stahn. She left a very strange letter. ‘The husband was half out of the windshield.’ He worked at the cabaret, in the entrance.” The fallible investigator adds, “We are not certain how he was killed. He seems to have been run over by a truck, but something tells us he’d been assaulted or tortured.” In the land of the prototype of mad safety, there was the treachery of Hour of the Wolf (1968), pertaining to the strange, warning letter; and, then also, Anna, and her note (written by the husband) to Andreas; and a husband killed by her sneakingly catapulting him through their car windshield.

Suckered by the non-acrobat’s bathos, the old cop opens up with, “All over Germany, millions are terrified… but I’d be delighted to see you swing on your trapeze with your peers. That way you fight your fear.” He provides a police escort to a train to Basel, where the circus works at being fearless. But he slips away from the goodwill and disappears forever.

Before he’s mercifully gone, he visits, by way of his archival links, the brain-trust behind that recent plague of violent deaths. There he can measure his own puny pedantry against a far more virulent rationality (another Anna). What could be more appropriate than an Alfred Hitchcock “exciting twist” to send the patrons home feeling that rational goodwill must always prevail. The carriage-trade chum from Amalfi pops up in a lab coat, and delivers a rationale for studies in human endurance (along the way, giving scope for a family trait of sadism). (Abel spends most of the experience covering his eyes with his hands.) With the Chief on his tail, the so-called “heavy” bites his cyanide capsule, while the law shoots away the door. “We are ahead of our time,” the researcher/ melodramatic oracle had assured Abel. “In a few years, science will ask for my documents, to continue our experiment on a gigantic scale. What you have seen are the first steps of a necessary and logical development… The old society, based on extremely romantic ideas of man’s goodness, was all very complicated… The new society will be based on man’s potential and limitations. We exterminate what’s inferior.” (Mood becoming bilious. Melodrama becoming empty.)

Hitch, always leaving the customers with a witticism, has the Chief—that genius of human nature—brag, as to a recent abortive putsch by Hitler, “He underestimated the strength of the German democracy.”

Hovering over the mad professor is his surname, “Vergerus”—the surname of Anna and the surname of a proto-fascist doctor, in the Bergman film, The Magician (1958). They’ll never go away, because cowardice will never go away. Our film today anticipates slight but meaningful progress.

#ingmar bergman

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bewitching-elizabeth-olsen · 7 years

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Press: Elizabeth Olsen does double duty in 'Wind River' and 'Ingrid Goes West'

LA TIMES – Room 64 at the Chateau Marmont is possibly the most Instagrammable spot in L.A. Its wrap-around terrace is suspended just below the homes built into the Hollywood Hills, tiny glass boxes that form their own constellation when night falls. Rumor has it Howard Hughes once lived in this two-bedroom penthouse, spying on girls at the pool below, decades before Lindsay Lohan and Lady Gaga crashed here for a slumber party.

Today, however, it is home to the actress Elizabeth Olsen, who has arrived at the hotel with a team of people to help beautify her. High-heeled sandals are lined up on a desk. There are multiple pieces of luggage containing makeup kits. She is wearing borrowed diamonds on her fingers, paging through the room service menu, from which she can order whatever she would like.

It’s a scene, no doubt, that would incite lust among her half-a-million Instagram followers. But she doesn’t feel like she knows how to do the setting justice. Just this morning, she attempted to photograph her breakfast, but then ended up deleting the image in haste.

“I’m bad at it,” she says. “I’m bad at the lighting. I’m bad at the framing. I’m bad at the editing. When I look at my food, it looks pretty. When I look at it on a phone, it looks not pretty.”

This is not a problem that her character in “Ingrid Goes West” would have. In the dark comedy — one of two films the 28-year-old is starring in this August — Olsen plays Taylor Sloane, a social media influencer who has established a reputation as the quintessential California cool girl. She tools around in a vintage Mercedes, is perennially reading Joan Didion’s “The White Album” and spends her weekends at a Joshua Tree abode. When she photographs her breakfast — avocado toast, obvi — it always looks pretty.

Matt Spicer, who directed the film, felt certain that Olsen could embody this kind of aspirational figure. Sure, he was a fan of her acting, but he’d also noticed how often she popped up on best-dressed lists. She also had proximity to the style world via her sisters, the twins Mary-Kate and Ashley, who run two of their own fashion lines.

“She has a natural charm and likability to her, which isn’t something you can really teach,” he says. “She’s one of those girls that other girls look up to. Since we did the movie, I think I’ve gained 1,000 Instagram followers that are just Lizzie fan accounts.”

And for the most part, it appears that those fans gravitate to Olsen due to who she is off-screen. Even though she’s been part of the hugely popular Marvel universe for two years — playing the reality-altering Scarlet Witch in “The Avengers” and “Captain America” films — most headlines about her still tend to relate to her style choices. A quick Google search of her name turns up five Daily Mail articles from July alone, nearly all centered on her clothing.

But Olsen has been steadily building up a respectable film resume since emerging as an “it girl” at the Sundance Film Festival in 2011, where her performance in “Martha Marcy May Marlene” signaled the arrival of a formidable new young Hollywood talent. A couple years later, she completed her acting studies at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts and began taking roles in movies from bigger filmmakers, including Spike Lee (“Old Boy”) and Gareth Edwards (“Godzilla”).

Then Marvel came calling — a huge coup for Olsen, who grew up watching action-heavy flicks from the Indiana Jones and James Bond series with her father in Toluca Lake. But participating in the superhero franchise has also meant turning down a number of projects that could have shown off more of her acting ability — including a role in Yorgos Lanthimos’ critically acclaimed “The Lobster.”

“There have been things more in line with the career arc I’d like to create that I had to turn down due to scheduling conflicts,” she explains. “You want to create a personal canon.”

That’s what she’s hoping to bolster this month with “Ingrid Goes West” (Aug. 11) and “Wind River,” which debuts Aug. 4. The two movies, to put it mildly, are incredibly different. “Wind River,” which earned filmmaker Taylor Sheridan the top directing prize in the Cannes Film Festival’s Un Certain Regard section in May, is a dark murder mystery. Olsen stars opposite her “Avengers” co-star Jeremy Renner as a rookie FBI agent sent to Wyoming to investigate the death of a local woman on a remote Native American reservation.

The role would require the actress to train with a veteran law enforcement officer and learn how to shoot a gun — opportunities she relished. She was more worried about flying to Park City, Utah, for production, because she hates the cold and high altitude.

“So I bold-faced lied to her and said, ‘We’re not shooting high and it’s not cold there,’” Sheridan recalls with a laugh. “I knew it would be, which was one of the things I loved about it — you can see it on her face in the movie that she really doesn’t like the cold. But she overcame it.”

The director, who nabbed an Oscar nomination for writing “Hell or High Water” and also scripted “Wind River,” cast Olsen long before Renner. He says he wanted her from the “very, very, very beginning” because he responded to an “essence of confidence” she exuded — a certain kind of toughness. “There’s a blue collar element to her, which I mean as a compliment,” he explains. “That’s how grounded she is, and maybe it’s because she grew up with [Hollywood], she’s able to see it for what it is.”

Renner, who plays a local U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service agent who takes Olsen’s character under his wing, admits he put off reading Sheridan’s script for months. (Chris Pine was originally cast in the role.) Eventually, the actor decided to sign onto the film because he wanted “to work with Lizzie in a different way — in a real way.”

“Here, I got to observe somebody working in a very different capacity — with more emotional intelligence, not just being in a costume and the whole thing,” the actor says. “She had to be pretty bad-ass with a handgun, I’ll tell you what — and that’s coming from a guy who knows how to use a lot of weapons.”

“Ingrid Goes West,” of course, didn’t require quite as much prep — though Olsen did start a secret Instagram account, following women like lifestyle guru Jenni Kayne, fashion blogger Aimee Song and Who What Wear founder Hillary Kerr for inspiration. Spicer encouraged her to start posting her own photographs, which she did: one of a crusty baguette with dipping oil, another of some Diptyque candles. (“Those first ones were a little bumpy,” the director says with a laugh. “Like, food that doesn’t quite look as appetizing as it should, or sunsets. Very obvious starter photos.”)

Then, this winter, Olsen decided to bite the bullet and start her own public page.

“I decided to join because I realized I was only taking something away from myself,” she explains. “It’s so funny that people like to pretend that they’re maybe or maybe not getting paid to post something. Financially, it’s a brilliant opportunity. Like, I’d really love to be a brand ambassador. I’d love to do a campaign. I think sometimes working with brands or different cosmetic companies — that can help people recognize your face and then they go see your movies. I was only hurting my opportunities by not participating.”

While some young Oscar winners like Jennifer Lawrence and Emma Stone have held out on joining the platform, it has increasingly become commonplace for even serious actor types — Anne Hathaway, Brie Larson, Shailene Woodley — to open up on social media. Before, Olsen says, she was “being old-school about it” — something she learned from her sisters, who she acknowledges are “notoriously private people.” But even they supported her launching an Instagram account. And besides, she’s not good at being “super mysterious.” She’s too chatty for that. Plus, there are plenty of accounts she wants to keep stalking.

“There are so many times I’ve seen a picture and thought, ‘Oh, God, how do they make those flower arrangements look so great all the time?’” says Olsen, who recently bought her first home in L.A. and is decorating it with an aesthetic she describes as Diane Keaton’s Hamptons beach house in “Something’s Gotta Give.” “Or: ‘How expensive are those chairs I’m looking at on Pinterest? Did they find them at some place I’ve never heard of? How do you have that kind of eye?’”

The rest of the photoshoot is posted in the gallery.

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Studio Photoshoots > 2017 > Session 017

Press: Elizabeth Olsen does double duty in ‘Wind River’ and ‘Ingrid Goes West’ was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

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BLOG POST - The Oliana Mercer Series

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THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

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GUEST POST BY THE AUTHOR

HOW ACTING LED ME TO THE WRITE ROAD

During my two-year attempt at acting, I had the pleasure of meeting actor Dan Lauria. He was a guest speaker at an actor’s workshop held by my agent at the time in Colorado.

If you are not familiar with him, he was the dad on the family show The Wonder Years, and I loved him in it. A while back, I got to see him in a 1988 movie called David. He played the role of a disturbed father which was a huge difference compared to his role as the grumpy and caring dad on the show. After the movie was over, I realized how frustrated I’d become watching him play this character. It had distorted my view of the guy I looked forward to seeing each week.

Once I’d gotten over that the movie was based on a true story, I told myself that Dan Lauria was doing his job as an actor. He’d honed his craft. That was one of the moments that helped me decide that acting wasn’t for me. I wanted to be behind the camera and write. The similarities in each artist’s performance, whether it is on screen or paper, are meant to touch an audience. But to make any of it real, I had to do what Dan did—make my writing a priority.

Fast forward to today. As I look back and reflect, it has been a long, long road. Going to conferences and treating my writing like a business on an author budget was tough. Except my desire to be a writer was stronger than my addiction to avocados. With all of the ups and downs, the easiest thing for me would have been to give quit. But that’s the one thing I refused to do. When my books weren’t selling, I kept writing. When the rejection letters poured in, I kept writing. When I reached the point of exhaustion, I took a nap and started a new chapter.

I’ll never forget what my writing mentor told me. She said, “Keep your head low and just write.” And that’s what I’m doing.

Shadowed Seats

Oliana Mercer Series Book 1

by Marguerite Ashton

Genre: YA Mystery

Oliana knows that every family has a secret, but she never expected hers to come from the grave.

High school senior Oliana Mercer dreams of attending the prestigious Reyersen Drama Academy and pursue her acting career. But when tragedy strikes, Oliana discovers secrets hidden from her by her adopted parents, dimming the lights on her perfect world.

As the sins of the past surface, Oliana finds herself caught up in a tug-of-war between two families while the love for her boyfriend is tested.

Determined to find some form of happiness in life, Oliana becomes student director in the high school’s senior play. When her best friend, Devin Worthy, dies during dress rehearsal, Oliana is re-cast as the lead.

Everyone thinks the death was a suicide, except Oliana, whose search for clues may be enough motive for the killer to murder again.

Goodreads * Amazon

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Staged

Oliana Mercer Series Book 2

It’s been two weeks since Oliana Mercer learned a horrible family secret and witnessed the death of her best friend. Two weeks of heartache, secrets, and lies. While Oliana wants to move on, graduation day is a turning point for her, but for the worse.

Austin wants Oliana to stay and not attend Reyersen Drama Academy, a relative from the past wants her forgiveness, the custody battle for her little brother moves forward…and then there’s James whose recent drug habit landed him in trouble. Now he’s missing. After a charred body, believed to be James is found in a dumpster behind the high school, Oliana receives a text from James’ phone.

When Oliana turns to the police for help, she is pulled into a conflict that makes her question whether to obey the law while fighting with the family who abandoned her.

Goodreads * Amazon

Cold Read

Oliana Mercer Series Book 3

Settling into campus life at the posh Reyersen Academy acting school, Oliana Mercer prepares for an audition for a lead part in a play called Cold. She soon discovers that her new roommate is not only vying for the same role, but is seeing Austin – Oliana’s ex-boyfriend. She does all she can to avoid Austin until he is found murdered at a party. With hardly any clues, she starts snooping around and descends into Reyersen’s forbidden East Wing, which mirrors the set for the upcoming play.

As Oliana learns more about the school’s past, she begins to suspect people around her might be involved and becomes obsessed with finding out what really happened. When another body is discovered, Oliana finds out that acting will be her best chance for survival.

Goodreads * Amazon

Burned Bridges

Prequel to the Oliana Mercer Series

Newly sober and dating the man of her dreams, Traci Collins is ready to enjoy the good life, until her new best friend, Olivia Durning, confides a dreadful secret far worse than Traci could imagine.

Sealed by a shared bond, and unaware there is more to the secret than what she was told, Collins feels honor-bound to protect her friend when a confrontation between Olivia and her childhood tormentor turns deadly.

A mysterious text forces Traci to question Olivia’s actions and re-examine her loyalties. When the answers to Traci’s questions endanger a life she treasures more than her own, she must decide if friendship has a limit. For a bridge once burnt severs ties forever…

Goodreads * Amazon

When Marguerite Ashton was in her twenties, she took up acting but realized she preferred to work behind the camera, writing crime fiction. A few years later, she married an IT Geek and settled down with her role as wife, mom, and writer. Five kids later, she founded the Crime Writer’s Panel and began working with former law enforcement investigators to create; Criminal Lines Blog, an online library for crime writers who need help with their book research.

She’s a workaholic who hides in her writer’s attic, plotting out her next book and stalking Pinterest for the next avocado recipe.

A member of Sisters in Crime, Marguerite grew up in Colorado, but is now happily living in Wisconsin and playing as much golf as possible. She can be found on Twitter and Facebook.

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BLOG POST – The Oliana Mercer Series was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf with Shannon Muir

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