#it took wyatt more than eight years to get to this point

[rebouks]

Brynn couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so physically exhausted-.. or sore, but Ellis had arrived safely and that was all that mattered. It’d been more than a few hours since the midwife had dropped by and subsequently taken her leave, but Wyatt had yet to move.

Clearly overwhelmed, any attempt at speech would leave him clearing his throat with a forced casualness, a fruitless act to conceal the fact that his voice - breaking with betrayal every time he opened his mouth - exposed his current emotional state.

Wyatt could tell Brynn was observing him, but his brain was no longer cooperating with him and he didn’t know what to say, or what to do-.. again. It felt as though someone had drugged him and stuffed a dry sock so far down his windpipe that he could barely swallow.

“We haven’t had any sleep for so long and it’s such a special day-.. is okay to feel emotional.” Brynn uttered gently.

Wyatt wanted to acknowledge Brynn’s words, perhaps even agree with them, but he didn’t dare tear his gaze from the rug. His eyes stung as she spoke, a knowing, soft smile practically emanating from her words.

“Come to bed soon, yes?”

Instead of heading upstairs, Wyatt tumbled outside - sans shoes - unable to contain the excruciating lump in his throat any longer. The tears fell way before he did, his old bench creaking in protest as he doubled over and thrust his face into his hand with shame.

Chained for over twenty years, an unrecognisable noise tumultuously forced itself from Wyatt’s chest in a motion almost as violent as retching; a choked sob that quickly gave way to inconsolable weeping.

With every fibre of his being, Wyatt willed himself to stop-.. to push his emotions back where they belonged like he used to, like he knew he could do; but they’d bubbled to the surface now, and it was far too late. The dam had finally burst, leaving him powerless against the seemingly unending flow. He was drowning in icy tears, snot, and shuddering breaths that felt like they’d never return to normal.

The moment Ellis had made his way into the world, something deep inside Wyatt’s soul had shattered, breaking into a million tiny pieces that pricked his heart with every shred of hurt, regret, and stifled guilt he’d ever buried within its previously impenetrable depths. Try as he might, the tears refused to cease.

A long while later, Wyatt took a deep breath and sniffled wearily, realising he could no longer feel his limbs. All the numbness had seeped from his core and travelled outwards instead, almost as though it had nowhere else to go; like it wasn’t welcome inside any longer. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat and cried for, but at least he didn’t feel like he was choking anymore.

Eventually staggering inside, he carelessly wiped his nose upon his sleeve, far too tired to fret about his usual, habitual cleanliness.

Silently sliding to his knees, Wyatt wondered if his own father had felt this way when he was born-.. was he even there? Probably not, though he’d never bothered asking. Ellis wiggled contentedly as Wyatt loomed over his crib, completely unperturbed by his presence; he was so small and innocent, so pure and untainted by a life yet lead. Since the moment he’d become aware of his existence, Wyatt knew that he’d do anything in his power to protect his son, though the feeling had multiplied tenfold now that he’d been born-.. as was natural for a parent, or ought to be.

Yet his so-called father had thrust him into the cruel jaws of the world without flinching, berated him when he shied from hardship, ignored his needs, wants and opinions, figuratively and literally beaten any undesired emotion out of him until he was a mere husk of who he might’ve been; turning him into someone who was easier to control instead, easier to mould. A malleable puppet to be used for his own, selfish gains.

How different things could’ve been-.. it’d probably be wise to maintain his refusal to regret the past though. His previously abhorrent life had still somehow led him to this point, hadn’t it? He wouldn’t change it, not now.

Wyatt finally admitted to himself that he wasn’t the same man he once was, he felt different-.. felt more. All the barriers and all the lies he’d surrounded himself with were gone, and bereft of his precious shield, he found himself exposed to a rawness he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with yet.

He knew wouldn’t judge Ellis for embracing his emotions, so perhaps he ought to do the same; guidance required an example to follow, right? Though he wasn’t sure he’d ever be a good example, he’d still try his best. He had no idea what he was doing, which wasn’t ideal, but at least he had a long list of what not to do.

Although it felt painful and foreign, Wyatt was relieved to discover that he still possessed some semblance of humanity; that his father and all those that’d failed him - including himself - hadn’t totally doused his spirit. The sobbing had long since stopped, but the tears had not; they didn’t sting as much as they had though, and each drop caressed his cheek gently as it fell, reassuring him that he wasn’t completely devoid of emotion, happiness, or love.

He hoped Ichi was right about him being a decent father, because for the first time since he could remember, Wyatt felt as though he had a purpose.

Maybe he had something to give to this world after all, something impeccant and virtuous, something he could actually be proud of…

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #wyatt shaw #brynn franz #ellis yoshida #oughhhhh.. my heart 🤕 #it took wyatt more than eight years to get to this point #but he finally broke #like.. truly fully shattered into teeny tiny pieces #and not only that.. but he actually admitted to himself that he's just not the same anymore #he can't undo the past.. but he can nurture the future and break the chain 😭 #i can't #i'm going to the sobbing corner and i'm never coming out #🤧 #twabuse

[theoddshq]

BENTLEY WYATT (paul mescal fc) the odds are in your favor! Please report to your nearest Capitol Agent to be prepped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!

ooc

Alias/Age/Pronouns/Timezone: mark, 27, he/him, est

Triggers: [REDACTED]

If you had to describe your muse as a canon Hunger Games character, or mix, who would you compare them to and why? okay this is going to be a wild mix but walk with me here: haymitch (early years, pre-alcoholism) and coral from tbosas. he’s got that dog in him (re: darkness & survivor’s guilt) like haymitch but he still genuinely wants his tributes to succeed!! and his whole drive during the end of his games was very coral’s “i can’t have killed for nothing” or whatever she says, i just watched it yesterday okay. but!!! like he didn’t enjoy it but he was gonna be damned if he didn’t do what he had to

Anything else? the way i have been searching for a hunger games rp for AGES you do not understand

basics

[PAUL MESCAL, CIS MAN, HE/HIM] The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes [BENTLEY WYATT], a [DISTRICT 6 MENTOR]. Word around The Capitol is that they’re [STOIC AND PRACTICAL] but can also be [ANXIOUS AND SELF-SACRIFICING]. According to sources, they’re [29] and were once described as [GREASE-STAINED CLOTHES, WHITE KNUCKLES WRAPPED AROUND A WEAPON, A SMILE THAT DOESN’T REACH YOUR TIRED EYES, COFFEE AT 3AM, HATING YOURSELF FOR HOW MUCH YOU ENJOY CAPITOL FOOD]. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

biography

bentley wyatt — victor of the 67th(?) hunger games. he grew up in a pretty cushy life in d6, his father was the head peacekeeper of their hub and his mother was a teacher. he was well-behaved, helpful around the house, social at school. your typical boy next door, he had a passion for fixing up old vehicles, taking beaten down hovercraft for joyrides, and bending the rules just shy of their breaking point

he was reaped at 22(?), a surprise just as much as anyone else who had never taken tesserae before. but district 6 wasn’t known for raising volunteers, so he strode up to the podium and accepted his fate. he knew he had decent odds — he wasn’t starving, he was athletic, but he hadn’t been training his whole life and he didn’t know how to use a weapon. but he would learn.

his partner minnie was younger, leaner, a great runner with a big mouth. she wanted to go all the way, he only promised to get her through the first night. he ran a decent score in training, made a few allies—more importantly avoided making any enemies. his mentor assured them both that they were going into the games in a good spot. sponsors were interested, neither of them had embarrassed themselves. six had a real shot.

the games happened in a flash. really, it was one of the shorter games than panem had seen in several years, and it was in no small part thanks to bentley. he and minnie came out victorious in the bloodbath, bentley finding a club and battering some tributes with minnie running for food and supplies. they regrouped when the first cannons sounded, eight tributes down already. they paired up with the boy from seven and the girl from three, their partners picked off by careers. bentley had already gotten one of the tributes from two, so he expected the careers to come for him sooner rather than later. the two packs crossed rocky terrain to find each other, and by the sunrise on day three they’d knocked off every tribute that stood between them. less than 48 hours in, they were down to nine tributes. four in bentley’s group, five careers. an arrow took out the girl from three, a felled tree took out two careers. six remaining: two from six, and one each from one, two, four and seven. minnie was next, and bentley killed her attacker before he could even register. their ally from seven had turned on them, and he was bleeding out seconds later. it was bentley against three careers. he ran for the trees, and they gave chase. one of them killed another with a spear, mistaking them for bentley in the shaded woods. three remained. two against one quickly became every man for himself as the two careers feared the other would turn first. bentley didn’t give them a chance. he picked them off one by one, and the hovercraft picked him up with his trusty club still in his grip.

his final body count was eight. one third of the tributes died because of him, directly or not. it took him most of the train ride home to come up with all of their names and how he killed each one, but it’s something he’s never forgotten since. returning home was hard. after the initial celebrity wore off, people looked at him differently. they knew what he was capable of. the victory tour was harder. in almost every district, he was forced to face the families of the tributes he had killed. he didn’t think it could get worse until the next games, when he had to face the other mentors, those who had lost tributes to him, and their tributes, who probably knew those he’d killed. his first games went terribly, and it was only after talking to his mentor that he began to compartmentalize. he needed to train winners, not lambs for slaughter. maybe the 74th games will be his year.

writing sample

[REDACTED]

stats

Deceive - 1 Fight - 3 Lore (knowledge) - 2 Notice - 2 Physique - 3  Provoke - 2 Rapport - 1 Resourcefulness - 2 Stealth - 1 Will - 3

#accepted #bentley

[ms-hells-bells]

SANTA MONICA, Calif. (AP) — Jurors at a civil trial found Tuesday that Bill Cosby sexually abused a 16-year-old girl at the Playboy Mansion in 1975.

The Los Angeles County jury delivered the verdict in favor of Judy Huth, who is now 64, and awarded her $500,000. She said the fact that jurors believed her story meant more than the sum of money or the fact that she didn’t win punitive damages.

“It’s been torture,” Huth said of the seven-year legal fight. “To be ripped apart, you know, thrown under the bus and backed over. This, to me, is such a big victory.”

Jurors found that Cosby intentionally caused harmful sexual contact with Huth, that he reasonably believed she was under 18, and that his conduct was driven by unnatural or abnormal sexual interest in a minor.

The jurors’ decision is a major legal defeat for the 84-year-old entertainer once hailed as America’s dad. It comes nearly a year after his Pennsylvania criminal conviction for sexual assault was thrown out and he was freed from prison. Huth’s lawsuit was one of the last remaining legal claims against him after his insurer settled many others against his will.

Cosby did not attend the trial or testify in person, but short clips from 2015 video deposition were played for jurors, in which he denied any sexual contact with Huth. He continues to deny the allegation through his attorney and publicist.

Cosby spokesman Andrew Wyatt said they would appeal the verdict and he claimed the defense won because Huth didn’t win punitive damages.

Jurors had already reached conclusions on nearly every question on their verdict form, including whether Cosby abused Huth and whether she deserved damages, after two days of deliberations on Friday. But the jury foreperson could not serve further because of a personal commitment, and the panel had to start deliberating from scratch with an alternate juror on Monday.

Cosby’s attorneys agreed that Cosby met Huth and her high school friend on a Southern California film set in April of 1975, then took them to the Playboy Mansion a few days later.

Huth’s friend Donna Samuelson, a key witness, took photos at the mansion of Huth and Cosby, which loomed large at the trial.

Huth testified that in a bedroom adjacent to a game room where the three had been hanging out, Cosby attempted to put his hand down her pants, then exposed himself and forced her to perform a sex act.

Huth filed her lawsuit in 2014, saying that her son turning 15 — the age she initially remembered being when she went to the mansion — and a wave of other women accusing Cosby of similar acts brought fresh trauma over what she had been through as a teenager.

Huth’s attorney Nathan Goldberg told the jury of nine women and three men during closing arguments Wednesday that “my client deserves to have Mr. Cosby held accountable for what he did.”

“Each of you knows in your heart that Mr. Cosby sexually assaulted Miss Huth,” Goldberg said.

At least nine of the 12 jurors agreed, giving Huth a victory in a suit that took nearly eight years and overcame many hurdles just to get to trial.

During their testimony, Cosby attorney Jennifer Bonjean consistently challenged Huth and Samuelson over errors in detail in their stories, and a similarity in the accounts that the lawyer said represented coordination between the two women.

This included the women saying in pre-trial depositions and police interviews that Samuelson had played Donkey Kong that day, a game not released until six years later.

Bonjean made much of this, in what both sides came to call the “Donkey Kong defense.”

Goldberg asked jurors to look past the small errors in detail that he said were inevitable in stories that were 45 years old, and focus on the major issues behind the allegations. He pointed out to jurors that Samuelson said “games like Donkey Kong” when she first mentioned it in her deposition.

The Cosby lawyer began her closing arguments by saying, “It’s on like Donkey Kong,” and finished by declaring, “game over.”

Huth’s attorney reacted with outrage during his rebuttal.

“This is about justice!” he shouted, pounding on the podium. “We don’t need game over! We need justice!”

The Associated Press does not normally name people who say they have been sexually abused, unless they come forward publicly, as Huth has.

Outside court, a group of four women who said they represented dozens of Cosby’s sexual abuse victims celebrated the verdict.

Chelan Lasha, who testified against Cosby in the Pennsylvania case, was in tears. She said he had drugged and assaulted her in the Elvis Presley suite of the Las Vegas Hilton when she was 17 years old.

“He’s a boogey man, he’s a sexual predator, he’s a deviant,” Lasha said. “He’s horrible. It’s one more victory. I came here to stand with Judy. I’m proud of Judy. I’m glad for the outcome.”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

[tvandenneagram]

Parks and Recreation: Ben Wyatt - Type 6w5

Ben is responsible, loyal and neurotic. He is always planning for every aspect of his job and is the complete opposite of Chris. Ben is more realistic, even cynical towards others, imagines the worst and tries to plan for this and often has to deal with the harder issues. He is also very loyal to Chris and they have worked together for a long time, moving from city to city. Chris has a tendency to pawn off the hard-hitting responsibilities to Ben such as firing people.

At his best, Ben is less neurotic and calmer. He accepts that he is valued for his work and begins looking less for support, approval and guidance and becomes more content with his decisions. At his worst, Ben becomes reactive, sarcastic and negative. When he and Leslie break up, he becomes more focused on his work and achievements through his job as he doesn’t want to be vulnerable or distracted.

Ben and Leslie are very similar as they are both good at their jobs, compliant and respecting of authority. This compliments their relationship as they have a lot of common ground and offer each other stability and support. Ben is also very loyal to Leslie and pushes her to reach for her goals and she sees his value and reassures him that she wants him next to her in both their lives and their work.

Ben had a bad experience when he was younger and became the Mayor of his town. Due to his public humiliation, he resolved to himself that he would endeavour to be disciplined, law abiding and responsible. 

Ben has many qualities of a type 1 and I was thinking about typing him as a 1. However, I see Ben as being more focused and concerned with maintaining security and safety in his relationships and life. He seems to really value finding a home in Pawnee with Leslie and sees himself as being secure in his relationship and work. 

Ben has a wing 5 as he is more reserved and introverted than a wing 7. He also loves learning about things that he is interested and sharing this expert knowledge with others.

Tri-type: 6w5 - 1w9 - 3w2

Some quotes to describe Ben’s motivation:

“I'm not afraid of cops. I have no reason to be I never break any laws, ever, because I'm deathly afraid of cops.”

”I was completely flustered, I came off like an idiot. I mean, at one point, for no reason, I just took off my shoes and held them in my hand.

”Thinking about my future. I am deeply ridiculously in love with you. And above everything else, I just want to be with you forever.”

“When I was 18, I ran for mayor of my small town and won. Little bit of anti-establishment voter rebellion I guess. Here's the thing, though, about 18-year-olds. They're idiots. So I pretty much ran the place into the ground and after two months got impeached. Worst part was my parents grounded me.”

"Well, you have to be able to make decisions like this, Leslie. You have to be harsh, you know. No one's going to elect you to do anything if you don't show that you're a responsible grown-up."

“In my time working for the state government, my job sent me to 46 cities in 11 years. I lived in villages with eight people, rural farming communities, college towns. I was sent to every corner of Indiana. And then I came here, and I realized that, this whole time, I was just wandering around, everywhere, just looking for you.”

“Getting married is the most bravest, most wonderful thing you can do”

#ben x leslie #ben wyatt #adam scott #ben and leslie #beslie #parks and rec #enneagram #type 6 #6w5 #6w7 #tv #personality type #enneagram 6 #enneatypes #ennea 6 #parks and rec enneagram #character analysis #character breakdown #character profile

[wolfliving]

Account of Lord Byron’s Greek residence

*I’m hard put to believe a word of this highly-colored account of Byron’s house in exile, but it’s hard to get more Romantic than this.  Extra points for the lack of paintings and the heaps of books covered with scrawled notes.

ACCOUNT OF LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE, &c.

"The world was all before him, where to choose his place of rest, and Providence his guide."

IN Sailing through the Grecian Archipelago, on board one of his Majesty's vessels, in the year 1812, we put into the harbour of Mitylene, in the island of that name. 

The beauty of this place, and the certain supply of cattle and vegetables always to be had there, induce many British vessels to visit it—both men of war and merchantmen; and though it lies rather out of the track for ships bound to Smyrna, its bounties amply repay for the deviation of a voyage. 

We landed; as usual, at the bottom of the bay, and whilst the men were employed in watering, and the purser bargaining for cattle with the natives, the clergyman and myself took a ramble to the cave called Homer's School, and other places, where we had been before. 

On the brow of Mount Ida (a small monticule so named) we met with and engaged a young Greek as our guide, who told us he had come from Scio with an English lord, who left the island four days previous to our arrival in his felucca. 

"He engaged me as a pilot," said the Greek, "and would have taken me with him; but I did not choose to quit Mitylene, where I am likely to get married. He was an odd, but a very good man. The cottage over the hill, facing the river, belongs to him, and he has left an old man in charge of it: he gave Dominick, the wine-trader, six hundred zechines for it, (about L250 English currency,) and has resided there about fourteen months, though not constantly; for he sails in his felucca very often to the different islands."

This account excited our curiosity very much, and we lost no time in hastening to the house where our countryman had resided. We were kindly received by an old man, who conducted us over the mansion. 

It consisted of four apartments on the ground-floor—an entrance hall, a drawing-room, a sitting parlour, and a bed-room, with a spacious closet annexed. They were all simply decorated: plain green-stained walls, marble tables on either side, a large myrtle in the centre, and a small fountain beneath, which could be made to play through the branches by moving a spring fixed in the side of a small bronze Venus in a leaning posture; a large couch or sofa completed the furniture. 

In the hall stood half a dozen English cane chairs, and an empty book-case: there were no mirrors, nor a single painting. The bedchamber had merely a large mattress spread on the floor, with two stuffed cotton quilts and a pillow—the common bed throughout Greece.

 In the sitting-room we observed a marble recess, formerly, the old man told us, filled with books and papers, which were then in a large seaman's chest in the closet: it was open, but we did not think ourselves justified in examining the contents. On the tablet of the recess lay Voltaire's, Shakspeare's, Boileau's, and Rousseau's works complete; Volney's Ruins of Empires; Zimmerman, in the German language; Klopstock's Messiah; Kotzebue's novels; Schiller's play of the Robbers; Milton's Paradise Lost, an Italian edition, printed at Parma in 1810; several small pamphlets from the Greek press at Constantinople, much torn, but no English book of any description. Most of these books were filled with marginal notes, written with a pencil, in Italian and Latin. The Messiah was literally scribbled all over, and marked with slips of paper, on which also were remarks.

The old man said: "The lord had been reading these books the evening before he sailed, and forgot to place them with the others; but," said he, "there they must lie until his return; for he is so particular, that were I to move one thing without orders, he would frown upon me for a week together; he is otherways very good. I once did him a service; and I have the produce of this farm for the trouble of taking care of it, except twenty zechines which I pay to an aged Armenian who resides in a small cottage in the wood, and whom the lord brought here from Adrianople; I don't know for what reason."

The appearance of the house externally was pleasing. The portico in front was fifty paces long and fourteen broad, and the fluted marble pillars with black plinths and fret-work cornices, (as it is now customary in Grecian architecture,) were considerably higher than the roof. The roof, surrounded by a light stone balustrade, was covered by a fine Turkey carpet, beneath an awning of strong coarse linen. Most of the house-tops are thus furnished, as upon them the Greeks pass their evenings in smoking, drinking light wines, such as "lachryma christi," eating fruit, and enjoying the evening breeze.

On the left hand as we entered the house, a small streamlet glided away, grapes, oranges and limes were clustering together on its borders, and under the shade of two large myrtle bushes, a marble seat with an ornamental wooden back was placed, on which we were told, the lord passed many of his evenings and nights till twelve o'clock, reading, writing, and talking to himself. "I suppose," said the old man, "praying" for he was very devout, "and always attended our church twice a week, besides Sundays."

The view from this seat was what may be termed "a bird's-eye view." A line of rich vineyards led the eye to Mount Calcla, covered with olive and myrtle trees in bloom, and on the summit of which an ancient Greek temple appeared in majestic decay. A small stream issuing from the ruins descended in broken cascades, until it was lost in the woods near the mountain's base. 

The sea smooth as glass, and an horizon unshadowed by a single cloud, terminates the view in front; and a little on the left, through a vista of lofty chesnut and palm-trees, several small islands were distinctly observed, studding the light blue wave with spots of emerald green. I seldom enjoyed a view more than I did this; but our enquiries were fruitless as to the name of the person who had resided in this romantic solitude: none knew his name but Dominick, his banker, who had gone to Candia. 

"The Armenian," said our conductor, "could tell, but I am sure he will not,"—"And cannot you tell, old friend?" said I—"If I can," said he, "I dare not." 

We had not time to visit the Armenian, but on our return to the town we learnt several particulars of the isolated lord. He had portioned eight young girls when he was last upon the island, and even danced with them at the nuptial feast. He gave a cow to one man, horses to others, and cotton and silk to the girls who live by weaving these articles. He also bought a new boat for a fisherman who had lost his own in a gale, and he often gave Greek Testaments to the poor children. In short, he appeared to us, from all we collected, to have been a very eccentric and benevolent character. 

One circumstance we learnt, which our old friend at the cottage thought proper not to disclose. He had a most beautiful daughter, with whom the lord was often seen walking on the sea-shore, and he had bought her a piano-forte, and taught her himself the use of it.

Such was the information with which we departed from the peaceful isle of Mitylene; our imaginations all on the rack, guessing who this rambler in Greece could be. 

He had money it was evident: he had philanthropy of disposition, and all those eccentricities which mark peculiar genius. 

Arrived at Palermo, all our doubts were dispelled. Falling in company with Mr. FOSTER, the architect, a pupil of WYATT'S, who had been travelling in Egypt and Greece, "The individual," said he, "about whom you are so anxious, is Lord Byron; I met him in my travels on the island of Tenedos, and I also visited him at Mitylene." 

We had never then heard of his lordship's fame, as we had been some years from home; but "Childe Harolde" being put into our hands we recognized the recluse of Calcla in every page. Deeply did we regret not having been more curious in our researches at the cottage, but we consoled ourselves with the idea of returning to Mitylene on some future day; but to me that day will never return.

 I make this statement, believing it not quite uninteresting, and in justice to his lordship's good name, which has been grossly slandered. He has been described as of an unfeeling disposition, averse to associating with human nature, or contributing in any way to sooth its sorrows, or add to its pleasures. The fact is directly the reverse, as may be plainly gathered from these little anecdotes. 

All the finer feelings of the heart, so elegantly depicted in his lordship's poems, seem to have their seat in his bosom. Tenderness, sympathy, and charity appear to guide all his actions: and his courting the repose of solitude is an additional reason for marking him as a being on whose heart Religion hath set her seal, and over whose head Benevolence hath thrown her mantle. No man can read the preceding pleasing "traits" without feeling proud of him as a countryman. 

With respect to his loves or pleasures, I do not assume a right to give an opinion. Reports are ever to be received with caution, particularly when directed against man's moral integrity; and he who dares justify himself before that awful tribunal where all must appear, alone may censure the errors of a fellow-mortal. Lord Byron's character is worthy of his genius. To do good in secret, and shun the world's applause, is the surest testimony of a virtuous heart and self-approving conscience.

THE END

[wrestlingisfake]

Rebellion preview

Rich Swann vs. Kenny Omega - Swann is the Impact Wrestling men's world champion, and Omega is the AEW men's world champion. Both prizes are on the line; it will be champion versus champion, title for title. This isn't the first time top champions from different promotions have squared off, but it usually only happens at a minor-league level, or when one group is in the process of absorbing the other. Truly interpromotional champion vs. champion battles at this level are rare, and even rarer when both titles are defended. So even though it's "just" Impact, and even though AEW has only been around for "just" a couple of years, it's still fairly special.

Omega also holds the AAA mega championship, but it looks as though that title is not at stake. Last month Swann unified the Impact title with Moose's unofficial TNA world title, but he's still carrying around both belts, so I'm not really sure if they're both on the line here. So technically this isn't winner take all. Maybe we can call it winner take most?

This match has been brewing since December, when Impact executive Don Callis made a guest appearance on AEW Dynamite, and helped AEW executive Omega win the AEW title. Since then, Callis and Omega have been throwing their weight around in both promotions. Swann took offense at the idea that Omega is the "real" world champion, and Omega expressed an interest in collecting more top championships. After Omega pinned Swann to win a six-man tag team match in January, it became clear that they had to meet one-on-one and put it all mostly on the line.

Omega is clearly the heavy favorite to win. They've all but said that in the storyline, with Callis trying to get in Swann's head about how he really has no chance. The minute Callis said he was bringing Kenny to Impact, everyone started fantasy booking past "Omega beats Swann" all the way up to "Omega invades New Japan to collect more belts." It's going to be tricky to lay this match out in a way that doesn't make Swann look like a second-rate chump. But Kenny is the guy who took a lot of guff from people who thought he made Allan Angels look too good in a squash match last year. If he can manage that, I'm pretty sure he can and will protect Swann.

The bigger question is what happens after Impact puts their world title on an AEW guy. Impact will have a outsider as their champion, who only wrestles for them on special occasions, and they can't plan a date for him to lose the title without clearing it with Tony Khan. For a company the size of Impact, that's a small price to pay to have the prestige of Omega carrying their richest prize. But it's risky business not having an endgame planned out, and I doubt their fanbase will have an appetite for Kenny Omega playing Brock Lesnar with Impact's top guys. But that issue will have to play out later; for now we just get to wait and see if the inevitable really happens.

Juice Robinson & David Finlay vs. Doc Gallows & Karl Anderson - FinJuice suddenly showed up in Impact a couple of months ago and won the Impact men's tag title from the Good Brothers. Then they took the belts back to New Japan Pro Wrestling, and now they're back to give the former champs a rematch.

The story of the feud is that Robinson and Finlay were "young boys" back when Gallows and Anderson were the top team in New Japan, but now the tables have turned. What's more interesting, though, is the metanarrative: If NJPW is sending FinJuice to fight the Good Brothers in Impact, and AEW is sending Kenny Omega to team with the Good Brothers in Impact, then sooner or later NJPW and AEW will end up directly working together for the real fantasy matchups. If FinJuice retain here it strengthens the idea that the NJPW/Impact relationship isn't a one-off; if they drop the belts then it could go either way. That's kind of more compelling than anything about the match itself.

I'm a fan of Juice, so I'm always up for seeing him getting to win big matches and capturing championships. But seeing FinJuice in New Japan with the Impact tag belts felt a little hollow, because I know they're only doing that because they're not figured into major programs in New Japan. So I'm not sure where I want to see them end up after this. For now, though, I'll be rooting for them to keep frustrating the Good Brothers.

Deonna Purazzo vs. Tenille Dashwood - Dashwood improbably won a six-way hardcore match to earn the right to challenge Purazzo for the Impact women's championship. It's a little weird booking a heel vs. heel match, but Purazzo has kinda cleaned out the division so there aren't a lot of better options. No offense to these two, but this is basically a one-match show no matter what they put on the undercard, so if they have something better in mind it makes sense to save it for, say, Slammiversary.

I always felt like Dashwood was undervalued by WWE and never got a strong run anywhere else to prove her worth. So it'd be neat if they put her over now, but her current character is so two-dimensionally vapid that it's hard to take her seriously. Purazzo's gimmick is that she's really fucking good at wrestling, and Dashwood's gimmick is that she's only really interested in her Instagram or whatever. So on paper Purazzo has to clobber this chump; if she gets bamboozled by a distraction from Kaleb with a K then she looks like a giant idiot, and Tenille is just the chump who beat a giant idiot.

Now, if they want to have Dashwood turn it up a notch and remember it says "marquee" on the wrestling, then great. But I'm not expecting them to do that. Deonna should retain.

Ace Austin vs. TJP vs. Josh Alexander - This is a three-way match for Austin's X division title, so the first man to score a fall over either opponent wins the match and the championship.

I think this match is a three-way because Austin won the title in some other three-way. They do three-ways for this title a lot. I mean, I'm grateful they finally quit doing Rohit Raju vs. TJP vs. Chris Bey, so that's something. But I'm pretty sure the last time I wrote about an X title match on an Impact PPV I just bitched about why multi-man matches suck and don't settle anything. I bet I said that the winner will just end up feuding with the guy who wasn't pinned, and then a third guy will interject himself to set up another multi-man that doesn't settle anything. I wish Kenny Omega would collect this belt and put it out of its misery.

Matt Cardona vs. Brian Myers - Cardona and Myers came up through WWE together as the Major Brothers and later as Zack Ryder and Curt Hawkins. They were both cut from WWE a year ago, and Myers quickly signed with Impact while Cardona had a cup of coffee with AEW. It seemed like they had gone their separate ways until Cardona turned up in Impact, which Myers resented. Now they're finally squaring off to settle their differences. But considering Myers is playing a conniving heel that tries to weasel out of stuff, I get the feeling he won't give Cardona the chance to settle anything in the ring. This match feels it'll either end in a disqualification or a fuck finish.

Sami Callihan vs. Trey Miguel - This is billed as a "last man standing" match, so if a wrestler is on the ground and fails to get up to answer the referee's ten-count, his opponent is the last man standing and the winner. Other than that rule, anything goes.

Miguel had spent a few years in Impact as part of the Rascals with Dezmond Xavier and Zachary Wentz, but then all three got a big sendoff back in November. Dez and Wentz signed with WWE and have since captured the NXT tag team titles as Wes Lee and Nash Carter. Trey unexpectedly returned to Impact in January, and Callihan has been giving him shit about being alone. Callihan keeps trying to provoke and manipulate Miguel into becoming Sami's protege. So it's kind of a thing where Trey has to either pull out all the stops to get a big win over a top guy, or fight so savagely that he turns to the dark side and accepts Sami as a mentor.

This may sound weird, but Callihan almost seems like Impact's equivalent to Bray Wyatt in WWE. Not, like, in terms of magic powers or whatever (although he does seem to teleport now and then). What I mean is every Sami Callihan storyline is kind of overwritten with all these layers of character development and intrigue about how Sami is trying to make the babyface recognize some subtle point. It's all so psychological, but then it just boils down to a vicious brawl, and Sami usually loses, so it kind of doesn't matter. Then they do it all over again and act like it's so deep, as if we hadn't seen him do it eight times already.

I think Trey should probably win if they're going to do anything with him. But on the other hand I think Sami needs a win at this point. But if Sami beats Trey I'm a tag concerned that Trey will become his crustpunk disciple or something, which is a little too close to what Eric Young is already doing.

Eric Young & Rhino & Cody Deaner & Joe Doering vs. Eddie Edwards & Willie Mack & Chris Sabin & James Storm - Young's team is Violent By Design. The group started feuding with Sabin and Storm a few weeks ago. (Storm became Sabin's regular tag team partner when Alex Shelley decided to sit out until he can be vaccinated, for the good of his physical therapy patients.) I don't really remember how Edwards and Mack got pulled into this, but it was inevitable as VBD is one of those groups that all the babyfaces are going to end up feuding with.

I read that Young tore his ACL during the last set of TV taping, and he worked through it in a number of matches. I don't know if this is one of them, because I don't know if this show is live or if it was taped weeks ago. Either way, it's possible Young just won't do anything during the match. Or they'll do an angle to write him out immediately before or immediately after the match. I'm not sure what happens to VBD while he's sidelined. But in the moment, I think they're the favorites to win this match.

Kiera Hogan & Tasha Steelz vs. Jordynne Grace & ??? - Hogan and Steelz (Fire & Flava) are defending the Impact women's tag team title. Grace earned this shot when she and her partner Jazz defeated the champs in a non-title match. However, Jazz had recently put her career on the line in a match she lost, so to honor the stipulation she declined to participate. So Grace gets a different partner for this match, who probably won't be identified until right before the bell rings.

Impact has been hyping the return of Taylor Wilde, but somehow I don't feel like she'd fit in this spot. If I remember right, Jazz said she had someone in mind for Grace's partner, and it's hard to imagine either of them deciding Wilde is a good fit with their team. ODB would make more sense, except she already came in to team with Jazz and Grace, so it'd be anticlimactic to just go there again. I think it's highly unlikely that anyone WWE let go on April 15 would be available for this show, so don't get your hopes up for Mickie James or Chelsea Green.

Usually you would expect the team with a mystery partner to blindside the other team for a big win to hype up said mystery partner. But it's possible they could do a swerve--the mystery woman could turn on Grace, for example. Without any idea who Grace's partner will be, I'd personally rather see Fire & Flava keep the belts. So if there is going to be a title change, I really hope they have somebody who can win me over.

#impact wrestling #rebellion #kenny omega #rich swann #aew

[yourdeepestfathoms]

God Forgive Us All (part one)

[Carrie AU]

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word Count: 5694

TW: Blood, bullying, child abuse, unflattering depictions of religious people, minor self harm

———————

-And Eve Was Weak-

You never really do get used to the heat of stage lights. Even after four years in theater, Anne never grew a resistance to the sweltering heat and blindingly bright lights that beamed down on the stage when performing. By the end of a mere rehearsal, her forehead was dotted with sweat and her green earrings gifted to her by her girlfriend felt like twin pieces of the sun blazing against her skull.

“Alright, everyone,” The stage manager, a bold, powerful woman named Catalina de Aragon, boomed. “That’s good for today! You all did wonderful!”

Several sighs of relief swept through the stage. The group of actresses either doubled over or put their hands behind their heads and took deep breaths. Eight-hour-long rehearsals like that always wrung them dry, but Aragon wanted to keep them sharp, and it did, even if it was exhausting.

“If you think this is bad,” Aragon said with a teasing smile, “just wait until our live TV debut. Now THOSE lights will fry you to the bone.”

There was a scattering of grins and giggles. Despite the heat from the lights, they were all excited for the upcoming TV performance of their musical, Heathers, in which Anne proudly played Heather Duke.

“Just wait until you get to be in that trench coat,” A voice said to her left.

She turned to see Jane Seymour, their Veronica Sawyer, grinning toothily at Cathy Parr, who also doubled as their incredibly talented, incredibly wonderful, and incredibly beautiful Jason Dean. Though, Anne may be a bit biased. She was dating her, after all.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Cathy said. “I’m already soaked enough.”

“Which will make Dead Girl Walking even better,” Jane tittered, earning her a playful elbow to the ribs.

“Oi!” Anne barked. “Paws off, Seymour! She’s all mine!”

“I bet you two make Dead Girl Walking really happen in bed,” Their Heather Chandler, Anna Cleves, commented while passing by. She grinned at them over her shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Anne fired back, making Anna chortle and Cathy whack her arm.

“Enough of that.” Cathy hissed. “Come on, let’s go take a shower. I feel all sticky.”

“Sweat does that,” Katherine Howard, or Kitty, the gremlin-like Heather McNamara, piped in helpfully. Trailing behind her was Maggie Wyatt, the Ms. Fleming. Unlike most of the others in the production, the two of them were both teenagers, with Kitty being fifteen and Maggie being seventeen, but they were absolutely brilliant when it came to acting and signing, so it was no wonder why they scored a spot in a West End show.

“Yes, thank you, Kitty. I had no idea.”

Kitty and Maggie both giggled, but their expressions simultaneously went sour all of a sudden. Kitty slowed down in her stride to huddle in between Jane and Anne, while Maggie wrinkled her nose in visible distaste. Anne didn’t even have to ask what was bothering them, she, sadly, already knew.

“Uh-oh,” Maggie muttered, “Here comes Jitterbug.”

Most people would furrow their eyebrows and look around in confusion, wondering who would possibly give their child such a weird name, but everyone in the theater was used to hearing such a title. They all knew exactly who it was referring to.

The girl was the definition of sickly- shockingly thin, with sharp jawbones, a narrow chest, and deep hollows under her startlingly silver eyes, which were as grey and shiny as the moon. She was very pale, too, like she would shrivel up and die if she so much as stood out in the sun for too long. Her head was dipped low as she passed by the group of actresses cautiously and she had her hands wrung anxiously in her wrinkled baby blue flannel shirt, which helped explain why she had a nickname like “Jitterbug”- she was always doing some sort of nervous tick, whether it being leg bouncing or straw chewing or hand flexing, and it easily became a target of mockery by other people in the theater. She always wore a cross necklace around her neck, and today it was still in the same position as it had been the day before- lying peacefully on her bony chest.

“Her name is Joan,” Anne whispered.

Joan Meutas. A pianist in the pit. Not an actress. So you would think that would make her unimportant and ignored, and yet...

“Yeah, I know,” Maggie said, not keeping her voice low. She probably wanted Joan to hear her, which wasn’t much of a surprise. “But she’s so jittery. And super weird.”

“You know that,” Kitty said, poking Anne. “Did you see her today? When it was lunchtime she prayed before she ate!”

Anne frowned and shook her head. She never really did like the treatment of the poor girl, especially when it came from so many adults and Joan was only sixteen, but she was just one person against an entire theater. What could she do?

“Hey!” A voice shouted from inside the women’s shower room. “Watch where you’re walking!”

Anne and her friends entered the showers and bathroom to find a flurry of towels and clothes and bare skin. Shampoo of lavender and pear, coconut and watermelon, honey and vanilla all mixed together into an overwhelmingly sweet odor that wafted throughout the room. It was almost as thick as the steam whirling from the many hot showers going on.

And, in the midst of all the cleaning and bathing, there was Joan “Jitterbug” Meutas, staring guiltily down at a few fallen bottles of soap she had accidentally scattered with her feet. The look plastered on her face made it seem like this little mishap was much more than a minor inconvenience to her.

“I-I’m sorry,” She whispered, although her shaking voice could barely be heard over the cacophony around her. Her natural stutter was more prominent because she was scared.

“Can’t you use those creepy eyes of yours?” The owner of the bottles, a woman old enough to probably be married, spat. “Or are you as blind as you are useless?”

Anne clenched her jaw. This lady was an adult and she was picking on this child as if it were just a simple schoolyard, playground argument. It was so wrong. So, so wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Joan said again, this time even softer, but it went unheard when Kitty suddenly jumped into the conversation eagerly.

“Did she get in trouble?” The girl asked, eyes glowing with cruel mischief. “I knew she would get in trouble if she came in here! Did you clobber her?”

“I wish,” The woman snorted. She glanced at Joan, as if considering beating the poor girl into a bloody pulp for simply knocking over her soap, but thought against it. “Don’t do it again, brat. Or I’ll have you fired.”

Joan nodded with one more shaky “I’m sorry” before shuffling over to one of the benches and sitting down. She hunched her shoulders around her neck instantly, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her hands were tightly grasping a set of neatly-folded clothes she had brought in for herself. It was so pitiful. Everyone was anxious in some way, but with Joan it ran deeper, all the way to paralyzing fear.

“I can’t believe we have to change with her,” Jane muttered. “She could do something to us. To the children!” She cast a worried look at Kitty and Maggie.

“She’s a child, too, you know,” Cathy pointed out. “Come on, ease up on her. She’s not that bad.”

Jane snorted, but left the conversation there and glided off to a shower that had just opened up, which was also the one that Joan was about to go into, causing the girl to slam herself back down onto the bench instantly. Anne looked at her girlfriend with an appraising expression. Cathy enjoying the bullying of a teenager definitely would have put a dent in their relationship.

“Thank you,” Anne said to Cathy in relief.

“You really thought I would be in on this harassment?” Cathy raised an eyebrow. “Do you have no faith in me?” She grinned teasingly at Anne.

“No, of course not!” Anne said hurriedly. “But you never know. I just worry.”

“I know you do.” Cathy pecked her on the cheek and then went to fetch fresh towels.

Anne smiled, watching her go, then noticed a twitch on Joan’s expression out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, thinking the girl may have finally gotten angry at her treatment, but instead just saw that her expression was twinged with pain. One of her hands was gripping at her stomach. Curious and concerned, Anne stepped over to her.

“Hey,” She said softly as to not shock Joan, but she still flinched anyway. “Are you okay?”

The look she got was almost comical. It was a mix of shock and adoration, with a hint of caution flickering in Joan’s silver eyes. She blinked several times, opening and closing her mouth like a startled fish that had just been pulled out of the water, before finally stuttering out, “U-uh-huh.”

“Are you sure?” Anne slowly sat down next to Joan, slightly surprised to find that she didn’t jerk away. In fact, she swore it almost looked like Joan wanted to curl up against her and fall asleep. “You look a little hurt. Physically, I mean. I’m sure everything hurts mentally....” She trailed off awkwardly.

“M-my stomach just hurts a little,” Joan mumbled shyly. “That’s all.”

“I see.” Anne said. “Well, I hope you feel better soon, Joan.”

She gave the girl a comforting pat on the shoulder and then stood up, going over to one of the now-open showers. She hung her clothes and towel on the stall door, then stepped inside and got undressed. She cranked the shower nozzle and hot water cascaded all over her body, washing away the sticky sheen of sweat that had been caked over her skin.

It always felt nice to take a shower after a long day of rehearsals. She loved being able to get clean, finally relaxing when she was done with hours of line run throughs and dance move reciting.

Someone got into the shower next to her; she could hear the click of the lock and the splash of water sluicing under feet. When she peeked down, she saw that the toenails weren’t painted, so it couldn’t have been Kitty or Maggie. She didn’t pay much mind to discovering who her stall neighbor was, though. She just tried to relax under the warm spray of water washing her clean and soothing her sore muscles.

And then she heard the shaky gasp.

It came from her left, from the girl without her toenails painted. The noise had been so soft and subtle that Anne thought she hadn’t heard anything at all, that it was just her imagination, but then she heard it again, this time slightly louder.

A shaky gasp. A definite whimper.

She peeked down again and saw something mixing with the water. It spiraled down the drain before she could get a good look, but she merely shrugged it off as none of her business and went back to washing her hair.

Or, she tried to, at least. It was a little hard when the girl next to her suddenly let out a sharp whimper and burst out of the stall.

“H-help me!”

Was that...?

Oh god.

Anne turned off the shower, not caring that she still had shampoo in her hair, and peeked out of the stall. What she saw made her heart sink into her stomach.

Joan, completely naked, was stumbling to a group of women with a horrified look on her face. She reached a desperate hand out to Cathy, leaving a red stain smeared against the woman’s blue blouse, and clung on for dear life.

“Help me!” Joan cried again. “Help me! S-something’s wrong!”

Cathy immediately recoiled in shock, causing Joan to stumble backwards clumsily. Everyone looked down at the handprint stained in crimson on her shirt. Jane gave Joan an evil look.

“What the fuck!” She roared. “Her shirt!”

“What is WRONG with you?” Maggie said.

“Some kind of freak seizure?” Kitty guessed.

And then they all noticed the trails of red running down Joan’s inner thighs.

“I-I’m bleeding!” Joan whimpered.

“Oh my god,” Kitty exclaimed as Jane’s face twisted with nausea. Cathy paled, looking down at her ruined shirt again. “It’s period blood!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jane hissed.

“It’s just your period!” Maggie said in amusement to Joan at the same time. She went over to the toiletry dispenser and took out a tampon. She offered it to Joan. “Just plug it up!”

Despite the moment of kindness, Joan was far too shellshocked and confused to understand what was going on, and so she reached out to Maggie’s hand desperately, hoping for some kind of comfort. Maggie instantly reeled away with a revolted gag when some of Joan’s period blood dripped onto her fingers.

“Oh fuck!” She yelled. “I got some of her pussy juice on me!”

“Gross!” Kitty squealed.

“P-please help me!” Joan howled. “I-I’m dying!”

“How do you not know what your period is?” Kitty asked her. “Are you that stupid?”

Joan merely let out a strangled whimper. A small pool of blood has accumulated around her feet and she’s now hunched over from obvious cramps. She’s shaking so badly that it looked like she may have actually been having a seizure.

When the other women noticed that they weren’t going to get through to Joan, they all turned to a different alternative instead of trying to help her- throwing tampons and pads at the poor thing.

“PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP!” The group cheered.

Joan stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. Blood smeared across her thighs and the floor, causing several women to sneer in repulsion. Kitty took her phone out and began to record the freak out.

“HELP ME!!” Joan shrieked. “P-PLEASE H-HELP ME!!”

“PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP!!” The group just sang louder.

Joan began to scream and cry, collapsing onto her side and curling into a trembling ball as blood oozed out from between her thighs and she was hit with a storm of women’s toiletry items. She just kept wailing at the top of her lungs, absolutely horrified and traumatized about what was happening to her. And Anne could only watch from her shower stall as the poor child was terrorized.

“Hey! HEY!!”

The voice was booming thunder in the rain or mockery and tampons.

“Ladies! Ladies! What the hell is going on here?!”

Aragon pushed her way through mayhem to the front and set her eyes upon one of the musical’s young musicians shaking and sobbing and curled up on the tile in heap of her own blood coming from her vagina and pads and tampons. She stiffened and blinked, clearly not expecting this image of all things and definitely not having learned how to deal with it from her training to be a stage manager, but she set her jaw in determination anyway.

“Okay,” She breathed out, pushing her shock to the side. She took a tentative step forward, which was enough to make Joan flinch and flounder awkwardly in the mess around her. “Okay... It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”

Joan didn’t seem convinced- she kept gasping and wheezing like she was having a panic attack and whimpering in distress. She huddled against one of the closed showers, trembling violently.

“Come on, stand up,” Aragon encouraged softly. “Let’s get you stand up.”

“N-no, I-I can’t!” Joan mewled. Like before, so desperate for comfort, she reached out to Aragon for help, grasping onto her yellow skirt with both bloody hands and hanging on like her life depended on it. Several of the gawkers gagged. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“Joan, come on.” Aragon tried again. If the period blood getting wiped on her skirt bothered her, she didn't show it. “Stand up. Can you stand up?”

“It hurts!” Joan wailed. Her grip on Aragon faltered and crumpled back into herself. “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”

Aragon, who was usually so headstrong and sure of herself, looked dumbfounded. “Honey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Cathy, who had been watching silently, stepped up next to Aragon. The stage manager momentarily glanced at the stain on her shirt that matched on the ones on her skirt.

“I don’t think she knows it’s her period,” Cathy told Aragon softly.

“NO!!” Joan cried instantly. “No! No! No! No!” Her panic was building. Her shaking was getting worse.

“Cathy, leave!” Aragon snarled, glaring at the woman at her side.

“But-”

“You aren’t helping!”

Joan’s cries were getting louder and louder and more and more shrill by the second. She was practically heaving, her lanky little body jerking and spasming. She looked so much more thin without any clothes to cover her skeletal frame. Her stomach was sunken in and her ribs were slightly visible through her milky white, doughy skin.

“Joan! Joan!” Aragon shouted to the panicking girl, but nothing she said was getting through to her, so she promptly raised her hand and slapped Joan across the face.

Gasps whisked through the shower room. Joan’s screaming was cut off with a sharp, alarmed squeak. She tentatively touched her stinging cheek with a bloodied hand and then whimpered pathetically.

A light overhead exploded and shattered into millions of pieces.

There were several startled yelps as the women leapt out of the way of falling glass. A few were cut, but not badly. Aragon grit her teeth at the commotion her actresses were making.

“Everybody out!” She roared. “Right now!”

Everyone obeyed, shuffling out as quickly as they could, but not without a few final glances over their shoulder at Joan. Anne was the only one who stayed, remaining hidden in her stall, listening.

“Hey, hey,” She heard Aragon murmur in the gentlest voice she’s ever heard her use before. “Deep breaths. Come here.”

She took Joan into her arms and Joan immediately curled up like she’s never been held before in her entire life. She buried her face against Aragon’s chest, weeping softly.

“Come on, it’s okay. You’re okay, sweetie.” Aragon said gently. “It’s totally normal. You’re not in trouble. It’s okay.”

She just kept reassuring Joan again and again, cupping her head against her chest protectively and using the other hand to rub her back comfortingly. Anne watched them from her shower stall with a frown until Aragon eventually got Joan to stand up, get changed, and walk out with her. Then, she finally got to washing the rest of the shampoo out of her hair in an eerily silent shower room with a broken light and period blood spattered across the floor.

———

“Are you, uhh, feeling any better? Need some Aspirin? Some juice?”

“Juice? Really, Tony?”

The director raised his hands in a mock surrender, then peered back at the trembling girl sitting in front of him. There was a flicker of worry in his eyes, but he seemed more concerned about what this would do to his production. After all, a cast needed to be close to work best, and the actresses terrorizing one of their coworkers would definitely make things difficult to achieve that unity.

“Do you want us to just leave you alone?”

There was no reply once again. Joan was way too shellshocked to answer. Instead, she was just wrapping one of her fingers in the chain of her cross necklace and tugging on it nervously.

“Joan, honey,” Aragon knelt down in front of the chair Joan was sitting in. “I am so sorry I slapped you. I should have handled that situation better.”

Joan just stared up at her with big, sad silver eyes that looked so much like an injured lamb’s.

“You know, getting your period is totally normal.” Aragon tried to smooth her panic out. “Usually it just comes a little bit sooner.” She paused, hesitated, then quietly asked, “Is this your first time?”

Aragon wasn’t sure who looked more uncomfortable: Joan or the director. Both seemed supremely uneasy with the question, but the director was sweating awkwardly and kept trying to open his mouth to interject, only to think against it. Aragon shot him an irritated glower.

Joan herself was quiet for a long time, but eventually squeaked out, “M-my mama never t-told me about it...”

“Oh, baby...” Aragon cooed pitifully. She sat down next to Joan and set a hand on her shoulder, feeling her jump and then lean slightly into her touch. “Do you know what’s happening to your body?”

The director wiped away a bead of sweat from his brow.

“I...I thought I f-felt something m-move...down there...” Joan said softly.

The director’s eyes bulged so far out of their sockets that it was a miracle that they didn’t pop out completely.

“Honey...”

“W-well—” The director suddenly interjected. Aragon gave him a warning glare and he shuffled over to the water cooler in the room, poured himself a cup, took a drink, crushed it, and then tried again with speaking on the topic. “Maybe you could talk to a therapist! Or a nurse! At the A and E!”

Aragon looked at him as if he were crazy. He rubbed his palms against his pants and took a seat at the front desk, clearing his throat. He did his best to make himself look refined and sophisticated, but that was impossible with his lack of knowledge over a completely normal situation and from the way he kept making it even weirder than it needed to be.

“But what I want to know—” He said, attempting to steer away from the period talk. “Is who started throwing...the things.”

Aragon rolled her eyes at his behavior. She expected nothing less from men.

“It was Jane Seymour, Maggie Lee, and Katherine Howard. Then everyone else joined in.” She said.

“Julia-”

“Joan.” Aragon corrected firmly.

“Joan.” The director said again. “Did those three girls start this?”

“Don’t call them ‘girls’, Tony. One of them is a grown ass woman.” Aragon said bitterly.

“But the other two aren’t,” The director said, then turned his gaze back to Joan expectantly.

Joan opened her mouth, looked up at the director, then closed it and shrunk back in her chair. She suddenly found the floor a lot more interesting.

“Sweet pea, you don’t have to defend them.” Aragon told her. “What they did was unforgivable and awful. You won’t get in trouble for telling us the truth.”

“I-I won’t g-get f-fired?” Joan sniffled feebly.

“No, no, honey,” Aragon tucked a stray lock of wet hair behind Joan’s ear and this time she definitely felt the girl lean into her touch. “Of course you won’t. You’ll still work here.”

Joan nodded, but she still wasn’t able to speak up. She gave Aragon a deeply apologetic look and then lowered her head uselessly.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like June-”

“Joan.” Aragon snarled.

“Joan—” The director corrected himself quickly, eyeing Aragon warily, as if he were expecting her to leap over the desk and strangle him. “—is going to point any fingers, so Catalina I’m going to let you handle this with the ladies. Let the punishment fit the crime.”

“Okay,” Aragon nodded. “I’ll fire them.”

The director floundered. Aragon smirked. Even Joan made a tiny, amused sound that wasn’t quite a giggle, but it was something else from her usual whimpers and distressed noises.

“What? No!” The director warbled. “Not that!”

“Why not?” Aragon said dismissively. “We have understudies for a reason.”

“You can’t fire an entire cast! The understudies are not as good as the all-star cast! That’s why they’re understudies! They’re good, but not good enough!”

“I-I think the understudies are really good,” Joan offered meekly. Aragon smiled at her and she even cracked a ghost of her own on her pale lips.

“They are, aren’t they?” Aragon said.

“You are not firing our stars.” The director said firmly. “You can do anything else! Just not that!” He cleared his throat, calming himself. “Now. Due to this...issue...Joan,” He glanced at Aragon when he used the correct name, “I’m going to have to call your mother to pick you up for the day.”

Joan stiffened like she had been struck by lightning. She went horrifically pale- paler than she usually was.

“Wh-what?” She whispered.

“I’m calling your mother,” The director said again. He furrowed his eyebrows at her distress. “You’re a minor, Joan. Your parents have to be called when something is wrong. And you need to be picked up. I know it’s basically the end of rehearsals, but you probably shouldn’t stick around any longer than you have to.”

“No,” Joan said in a voice that’s strangled with fear. Her eyes are wide, like she’s already predicting a million different futures where this goes horribly wrong and gets her in trouble or humiliated again.

“We have to get your mother involved.” Aragon said gently, hoping to get through to the frightened girl. “She needs to know.”

“No!!” Joan cried, and then the water cooler against the wall burst apart.

———

Bernadette Meutas was as sickly as her daughter, but less so physically, and more so mentally. She had wide, wild, and bloodshot moss green eyes that were sucked into their sockets and sunken cheeks that made her head look more like a dead person’s skull. Her lips were frayed and bloodied from constant chewing on the flesh and her wrists were covered in scars, some old, some new.

Joan always hated the scars on her mother’s wrists. They made her feel guilty, like it was her fault that they were there.

“So, you’re a woman now,” Bernadette muttered.

She and Joan were sitting in the car outside their shabby house in the far outskirts of London. The building cast an eerie black shadow across the unkempt lawn. Behind it, the setting sun glowed blood red.

“Y-you should have told me, mama.” Joan said, voice shaking.

Bernadette clenched her jaw for a long moment, then roughly unbuckled her seat belt, threw open the car door, and stormed inside. Joan was left alone in the car, sniffling, trying to hold back tears.

“Maggot Meutas! Maggot Meutas!!”

Her mother had moved them all the way out to the sticks of England in hopes they could get far away from all the sinners and unholy leaches, but she didn’t seem to do a good job because there was a little neighbor boy on the other side of Joan’s window, shrilling like a bat out of hell.

“Maggot Meutas! Maggot Meutas!” He changed again, then pressed his nose against the glass and made what he thought was a good impression of a maggot’s face.

Joan clenched her fists with a pathetic whimper. Her blood was starting to boil.

The boy cackled loudly, twisted his bike around to drive off to celebrate his success of tormenting the city’s local freak, but didn’t get very far. Because Joan twitched and, suddenly, the kid is toppling over very ungracefully into a heap in the grass. He looked up at Joan, just as startled as she was, then scrambled to get his bike back up and rode off screaming.

Joan stayed very still for a long time, staring at her hands. Then, she’s wiggling out of her seat and walking slowly into her house, unable to ignore the confrontation with her mother any longer.

Bernadette was sitting in the kitchen with her back to Joan, rereading the Bible for what was probably the hundredth time and smoking a cigarette. The overhead lights were dim, but Joan could still see bloodstains on her mother’s green sleeves. She whimpered softly, but quickly bit her tongue when she glanced fearfully up at the large crucifix hanging above the dinner table. It was usually used to discipline her for her perceived infractions, and, because of that, always made her nervous whenever she stepped anywhere near it.

“Mama,” She spoke up softly, stepping warily into the kitchen doorway. “Y-you said y-you’d stop cutting yourself...”

She knew, deep down, that that promise was nothing but a hollow lie, but she liked to comfort herself with the thought that her mother would get rid of her self destructive habits and they could be a happy, normal family like she always wanted them to be.

“And God made Eve from the rib of Adam,” Bernadette recited instead of replying. Her voice was hollow and drained. “And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world. And the raven was called sin.” She creaked around slowly in her chair to stare at her daughter. “Say it.”

“Wh-why didn’t you tell me, mama?” Joan asked quietly.

“Say it.” Bernadette merely said again, rising to her feet.

“And the raven was called sin,” Joan said and the words were horribly sour on her tongue. She shook her head. “Why didn’t you just— why didn’t you tell me, mama?” She tangled her fingers in her cross necklace like she always did when she was nervous. The cold metal lacing bit into the back of her neck when she tugged on it. “Mama, mama, please. It hurts, mama. It hurts, it hurts!”

Bernadette is unfazed by her daughter’s desperate pleading. “And the first sin was intercourse.”

“I’m not Eve, mama!” Joan wheedled. “I-I didn’t sin!”

“You were showering with other women.” Bernadette said exasperatedly. She looked sick when she spoke that sentence. “You were having lustful thoughts.”

“N-no, no, mama!” Joan stammered, eyes widening in fear. “I-I wasn’t, mama! I promise!”

“You were having lustful thoughts about women.” Bernadette oozed scathingly.

“No! No!” Joan shook her head. “E-everyone has to shower! I-I was j-just cleaning myself up because I was sweaty after rehearsals!”

“So it’s this blasted play that’s doing this to you,” Bernadette mused, not even hearing her daughter. “It was a mistake. I thought putting you into homeschooling would give you more time to focus on your prayers. And you had been doing so good that your reward was to be in this damned show, but clearly you don’t deserve that.”

“No!!” Joan cried. “No, mama, please let me stay! Please! I-I promise that I’ve been a good girl! I do my schoolwork during any free time I have and I always pray! Always! I promise!”

Even if it earned her awful ridicule and teasing.

“But you sinned.” Bernadette seethed. Her voice remained dry and hollow, sending several chills down Joan’s spine.

“I didn’t!” Joan said. “I-I’ve never sinned! Never ever! N-not at school, not at home, no at the theater! S-so please don’t take me out, mama, I love to play mu—”

Joan was cut off when her mother hit her across the head with the Bible. Her frail, lightweight body instantly crumpled under the force of the heavy book and she toppled to the ground with a cry of shock and pain.

“And the first sin was intercourse.” Bernadette said blankly, gazing down at the shuddering figure of her young daughter.

“I didn’t sin, mama!” Joan just said again, hoping she would eventually get through to her mother.

“Say it.” Bernadette said. “The first sin was intercourse.”

Joan stammered, choking on her words.

“The first sin was intercourse. The first sin was intercourse. The first sin was intercourse.”

“Mama-“

“The first sin was intercourse.”

“The first sin was intercourse!” Joan sobbed, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “Mama, I was so scared! I-I thought I was dying! A-and e-everyone was laughing and th-throwing things at me—”

“And Eve was weak.” Bernadette said. “Say it.”

“No!!”

“Eve was weak. Eve was weak. Eve was weak. Say it! Eve was weak. Eve was weak.” Bernadette chanted over and over again.

Joan covered her ears, pulled her knees tightly to her chest, and wailed, “Eve was weak! Eve was weak!”

“And the Lord visited Eve with a curse,” Bernadette whispered. “And the curse was a curse of blood!”

“You should have told me, mama,” Joan wept. “You should have told me!”

Bernadette suddenly dropped to her knees in front of Joan, making her flinch away. She ripped Joan’s hands from where they’re over her ears and held them tightly in her own.

“Oh, Lord!” Bernadette howled, shaking Joan. “Help this sinning girl see the sin of her days and ways! Show her that if she had remained sinless, the curse of blood would have never come on her!”

“No, mama,” Joan whined weakly, wriggling in her mother’s grasp.

“She may have been tempted by the anti-Christ, she may have committed the sin of lustful thoughts—”

“M-Miss Aragon s-said it h-happens to every girl!” Joan said. “Th-that they all get it a-and it’s normal!”

“No, no,” Bernadette shook her head. She held tighter to Joan’s hands, digging her long fingernails into sensitive flesh and causing her daughter to sob in pain. “Don’t you lie to me, Johanna. Don’t you know already that I can see inside of you? I can see the sin within you.”

“P-please stop, mama, you’re hurting me,” Joan whimpered.

“You need to pray.” Bernadette suddenly said and Joan’s teary eyes shot open wide. “Come. Get in your closet.”

“No! No!!” Joan struggled against her mother as she was forcefully dragged across the floor to a small storage room underneath the staircase. She kicked and screamed, but it did little to free her as she was thrown into the cramped space like a worthless sack of potatoes. She tried to get up and run out, but the door was slammed in her face and promptly locked.

Banging on the door and screaming was fruitless. Joan gave up after a few minutes and curled up in one of the corners of the room, staring fearfully at the dozens of photos of Jesus’s death around her. The statue of him on a cross was by far the worst, though.

Pain seized her lower stomach and she whimpered. It felt like a demon was trying to claw its way out of her belly.

Joan curled up tighter, rocked herself back and forth slowly, and cried.

#carrie au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #six fanfiction #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #catherine parr #katherine howard #maggie on the guitar #anna of cleves #joan on the keys #parrlyn #parrleyn #parr x boleyn #boleyn x parr #tw: blood #tw: bullying #tw: child abuse #tw: religion #tw: self harm

[penzyroamin]

penzy first of all... i can’t wait for ch 2 u know more than anyone that i live and breath for flowers you’ve got me all excited now! second, talk to me abt ur country music recs! and thirdly give me that exr/javid character analysis RIGHT NOW because it is giving me Emotions!!

flowers ch 2 has everything.... banter, sweet sibling moments, artistic metaphors, and charlie

COUNTRY MUSIC RECS!!! ok so obviously we’ve got the classics. reba, the chicks, shania, taylor, dolly. these are obvious ones. once again to reiterate for those of you who havent caught up with the chicks: gaslighter saved 2020.

mickey guyton is really wonderful! her record has been WOEFULLY misusing her, but she has an ep called “bridges” that went out this year and she performed at the acm awards, so hopefully she’ll see some more attention and chance to build her career soon! she’s got a gorgeous voice, especially live, and she breaks perfectly out of the usual blueprint for radio country. each of her songs feels distinct and different from the others while still cohesive as all hers. she also makes really good use of some background choir moments if that’s a selling point like it is for me fhskjdhskhds. she’s also unabashedly political with her music! bridges has songs about facing inequality and getting through the division in the country, plus getting wasted and fake bitches fsjdhsjhds. this is country after all. i cannot comprehend the guts it took for her, as the first black woman to perform solo at the acm awards, to sing about how we fail to create a better world for our daughters. i’m excited to see where she goes now that she has more attention and an opportunity to build on it!!!

for some great gay country: jamie wyatt!!! she came out within the last year and has two albums out, the most recent being “neon cross”! she has a really classic country sound AND a gorgeous alto voice, which is always awesome to hear. she’s dedicated herself to making country a more inclusive genre. specific songs to check out: “rattlesnake girl” and “make something outta me”!! she also wins coolest album cover. it makes me gayer than i was before.

chely wright’s been making country for decades, she has eight? i think albums, but she pretty much got excommunicated after she came out in 2010 so she hasn’t gotten a bunch of buzz recently. her 2016 album, “i am the rain”, has sort of country “tapestry” energy, and i highly recommend it!

i also love yola-- she has a gorgeous deep voice, and her album “walk through fire” is fucking brilliant. she got nominated at the grammys for it, so i’m really really excited to see what she does going forward. her music just makes me feel very Warm and comforted but also melancholy and its just... hot damn walk through fire is good. her music has a soul feel to it in addition to the country roots!

anyways!! if youre new to country and looking for a good entry into the genre, go for the classics list i put up there, and if you like country and you aren’t familiar with any of the less ultra famous artists, check them out for some good tunes!

OK CHARACTER ANALYSIS TIME.

this ask is massive i regret nothing

i will probably go more into detail later but here’s what i have right now: jack is a naturally supportive person who’s been forced into leadership, and davey is a natural leader who’s been repressed into staying in the background.

on jack’s end-- i think he’s really in a situation where he doesn’t want to lead or be in charge, it’s just something he kind of fell/was forced into. in my head, since he goes out of his way to help and support people, he gradually became the person all the newsies went to for help, and eventually that formed into him being a leader for the unit. but it’s VERY obvious he isn’t entirely comfortable/okay with it-- at his worst moment, in santa fe, he is literally begging to be somewhere where people won’t depend on him but will still care about him. another thing that really points towards this would be that he only resolves to stay in new york when he realizes that he has people to help him and he doesn’t have to shoulder leadership alone anymore

on davey’s end-- this might be a Hot Take, but i think davey’s a much more natural leader than jack is. look at wwh reprise: his phrasing specifically takes on a lot of very classic leadership ideas in a way that almost makes him seem like a general planning strategies. he’s more capable of looking at the larger picture-- partially because jack cares so much about the newsies and can’t bear to see them getting hurt, but i think it also comes from davey being really good at structuring those large-scale, big-picture ideas. i think we often gloss over the rally because it goes to shit, but that’s his idea! in my eyes, he’s someone who’s been taught to always keep his head down and stay out of the spotlight-- considering that his family is poor, jewish, and possibly newer to america, and that he was still in school, which would have likely been a hostile environment for him, there’s plenty of reason for him to do just that. but i think it’s very telling what finally breaks him and gets him to join the strike-- jack’s speech wears him down, sure, but it’s jack ASKING HIM FOR ADVICE that finally wins him over.

anyways. i think the idea of jack as someone who doesn’t want to lead but kind of has to and davey as a natural leader who has forced himself into the background for safety is VASTLY more interesting than like. jack is a loudmouth and davey’s shy. but that’s just My Thoughts. i will polish them more later fsjdghsjgds thank you for asking me about them!!!

#this is so long fskdhskhdkshds #asks #mjs diner tag #<- that is your tag now congratulations.

[the-original-b]

Archangel--Chapter 5: the Seza Situation

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 6 of 9 (Previous Chapter | First Chapter)

Word Count: c. 4,300

Summary: Krueger makes peace with a few of his demons while he and Khai deal with the fallout of the events at Orham’s cabin; other parties hatch a plot against the duo.

Northern Africa, circa 2005.

The six of them sat in the back of the five-ton cargo transport as it crossed the ragged desert terrain below them. One of them, about ten years younger than everyone else there, jiggled her knee as she held her clasped hands together atop her lap.

Another one—a large barrel-chested man with broad shoulders, tan skin, a shaven head, and bushy beard—looked over at her. “You nervous, Seza?” He leaned forward in his seat. “You look nervous.”

“She looks better than you, Brock,” uttered the third one among them. This one—Wyatt—wore a baseball cap to cover his brown hair. He was a fair-skinned man with green eyes and a trimmed goatee that covered his upper lip and chin. He leered at Brock. “How is it possible that you gained weight since the last time I saw you?”

Brock smiled and patted his belly. “It’s all the home cooking,” he jested.

The fourth person, Alicia, rolled her brown eyes. “Brock Singer, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. She had light brown skin, delicate features, and black hair tied in a ponytail passed over the band of a tan snapback cap. “Two-hundred-plus pounds of beer and muscle.”

Brock chuckled. “The ladies love it, Alicia.”

The fifth one in the back of the transport—Jackson—added his input. “Well we have two with us, you’re welcome to ask their opinion.” He had fair skin, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and messy stubble.

“I wouldn’t,” Wyatt noted. He nodded in Seza’s direction. “This one looks like she’s ready to squeeze the life out of the next thing that touches her.”

Seza perked up when she met his eyes. “No,” she stammered. “It’s just—”

“First job jitters? Trust me, mate, we’ve all been there. But this is a protection job, nothing safer to start cutting your teeth on, I say.”

“Don’t you lie to the poor girl, Wyatt,” Brock said.

“I’m not.” He looked over to the corner at the sixth man in their party. “Oi, Archangel..! How many protection jobs have you worked in your day?”

The leader of the bunch—Archangel, known to a handful of people across the globe as Milo Krueger—leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed and stared straight ahead. “Enough,” he said. A tan shemagh rested on his neck and shoulders atop a pale t-shirt.

“Yeah, and how many of them went sideways?”

“Enough.” He quickly glanced over his gear.

At this, Seza retreated back into herself. For all her prior training and preparation, she never actually partook in battle.

Wyatt noticed it. “Don’t let it scare you,” he advised. “Just stay by him, if it all goes FUBAR he’ll pull you out of the fire.”

Seza looked back at him, incredulous.

“He pulled my arse out at least twice… And Brock’s. And Jackson’s, and Alicia’s.” Wyatt leaned back in his seat. “Trust me, you’re in good hands with him.”

Seza looked down at the floor, and then at Krueger. She could see it in the way he carried himself—an undeniable sureness of who he was and what he was capable of. She could tell he earned the respect and admiration of everyone else in the truck with her.

She took a breath and tried to relax as the vehicle came to a stop and the rear gate opened. When Krueger stepped out to assist in unloading the cases of weapons, she took her spot a few meters from him, not just to survey the others, but to keep an eye on him particularly. Seza knew if she was going to make it in this line of work, her start would have to be with him.

Rego Park, six miles southeast of Manhattan, present day.

Krueger held one hand against the shower wall as he let the water hit the back of his neck and run down all of his his five feet and ten inches. He reflected on the day’s events—the meticulous planning that didn’t matter once the others showed up, the return of a ghost he previously thought dead for eight years, the fact that he failed his mission.

None of it ate at the corners of his mind as much as what she said to him. Seza wouldn’t tell him who hired her to kill Miles Orham, or why. He had taken too many kill orders from too many people to believe that Seza’s presence there coincided with his own by accident. Whoever sent her knew he and Khai would be there too, and probably knew what they were there for. Besides himself, there were only two other people in the room yesterday morning in a position to leak any details. And he didn’t like the possibility of having to kill either or both of them.

He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower to dry himself off. He winced a little as he passed the towel over his left shoulder, and the dull pulsing pain radiating from a circular bruise on his upper right chest reminded him of the bullets he took in Hoboken just two days ago. He looked deep in the empty eye sockets of the grinning skull tattooed under the bruise, and then lowered the towel to study the marks on his left arm and shoulder. Now, perhaps more than ever before, they were haunting reminders both of Seza and of his failures.

 ~~~~

Krueger dressed himself in a pale gray A-shirt and dark loose-fitting track pants, then sat down in his kitchenette to eat his dinner of lean beef and grilled vegetables, keeping his P30L within reach. He was just about halfway done when his doorbell rang. Slowly, methodically, he stood up from his chair and approached the door, keeping his handgun pointed towards it the whole time. He placed the muzzle on the door as he looked through the peephole at the woman on the other side. He considered walking away from the door for a moment before he lowered his gun and cracked it open, holding the gun in his hand behind his back.

Khai stood before his doorway, wrapped in a double-breasted pea coat and scarf. Under it she had the same pants and boots from this morning. She greeted him with a wave and nervous chuckle before putting her hand back into her coat pocket. “So, I ran your license plate number and got your home address,” she confessed. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” Krueger said.

“Then why do I get the feeling you don’t trust me?”

“Probably for the reason you figured I might. There are only two other people who knew where we would be this morning, and they may have tried to use that opportunity to have me killed.”

Khai averted his gaze and nodded, understanding his suspicion but still hurt by the insinuation. “Will you at least let me in so I can come clean properly?” she asked, looking back at him.

“On one condition,” Krueger articulated. “I’m going to ask you simple questions, to which I want simple answers.”

“Of course.”

Krueger stepped back to open the door fully and let Khai in, keeping his place behind it. She took a few brisk steps to cross the threshold and waited for him on the other side while he peeked over the door to scan the street quickly before closing it. He let his hand hang by his side, allowing her to see the P30L he still held.

She took solace in the fact that his finger was away from the trigger. For the moment, at least, he hadn’t intended to shoot her. “That smells incredible,” she said, noting his dinner. “What is it?”

“I based it on a Mediterranean recipe I picked up working in the region.” Krueger stepped away from the door toward her, gesturing the seating area to her left with the gun in his hand. “Please have a seat.”

Khai complied, placing herself on a large couch int which she sank. She crossed her feet at the ankles and placed her hands into her lap, palms down.

Krueger took a seat in an upholstered armchair across from her. A glass-topped coffee table separated them. He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands hang between them. “Are you armed?” he finally asked.

Khai shook her head. “No, I’m not carrying,” she said. “There’s a Glock 19 in my glove box, but that hardly matters right now.”

“Did you think about carrying it with you inside?”

“Briefly, but it wouldn’t do much to repair our relationship if I had.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t have…” Krueger straightened his posture, pulling his elbows back to rest on the arms of the chair. “Did you order Seza to murder Orham?”

“No,” Khai affirmed.

Krueger paid close attention to her. She was rock-steady; she didn’t fidget or move in her seat before or after answering, and her pitch and tone of voice remained where it had been since he first started questioning her. Khai, he was relieved to find out, was telling the truth. “Then why did you say you wanted to come clean, earlier?”

At this, Khai broke eye contact and wringed her hands. “Because I owe you an explanation, and an apology for not coming forward with this sooner.” She tucked her hair back behind her ear before continuing, placing her hands in her lap again. “I don’t work for Simon Wells,” she admitted. “I never worked for him or his father William. I report to people higher in the organization than them.”

“The actual Managing Partners,” Krueger surmised.

Khai nodded, confirming his theory. “There are five of them, each presiding over a piece of the United States,” she explained. “Remember Charles Silvio, CJ’s father? He’s in charge of the Southeast Region. There’s also Karin Marlow in the Southwest, Herman Gallagher in the Northwest, and Dana Frazer in the Central region. I report to Isaac Hayden, the Northeast Region’s controller and Simon Wells’ boss.”

“I see,” Krueger said. “So Isaac Hayden installed you at the Branch in oh-six to get it back in working order.”

“It wasn’t Hayden at the time, but yes, the region’s head gave me the order. And when Simon inherited the Branch after William’s death I was tasked with transitioning him into the position. During that time Hayden was promoted and found that the Branch ran wonderfully with me as its co-pilot, so he had me stay there. Either that, or he didn’t trust Simon to run it without me,” she mused, smiling to herself.

“I’m inclined to agree with that theory,” Krueger said with a half-smile of his own. His expression flattened again. “Why did you keep this from me?” he asked.

Khai looked away from him and shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think we would be working together long enough for it to matter… and since we ended up staying together I was afraid if I shared it with you then, you would think less of me for not being open with you about it sooner.” She reclaimed his green and blue eyes. “I know it’s silly.”

“Not really,” Krueger said. “Truth be told I would have thought the same, were I in your position. It’s rare for people in my line of work stay with an employer long enough for such details to emerge, rarer still for them to care about such things.”

Khai let out a quiet sigh of relief and grinned. “Guess that means there really is only one of you, huh?” She crossed her legs and leaned back in the couch a little.

Krueger, happy to see her relaxed again, smirked too. “I did tell you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Khai chuckled. She sat there for a little, looking at him and admiring how he filled the sleeveless shirt he wore, studying both the tattoos she could see and the one tucked mostly out of sight. Though she read about them in his dossier, she had never actually seen them with her own eyes. They raised questions, and one in particular that rose above the others. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course you may.”

She took a breath, choosing her next words carefully. “Who is Seza to you, really?”

Krueger broke eye contact while he organized his thoughts. “Seza is many things to me,”he began. “A student, a partner, my sister-in-arms... a lover.” He set his P30L down on the table top and looked at her again, clasping his hands together. “She is both my greatest success and harshest failure,” he continued. “I first met her in 2005, when she joined as the sixth and final member of my squad of private contractors. There was Brock, Jackson, Alicia, Wyatt, myself, and her. We were Amur Company, a band of apex predators greater than the sum of its parts.” He gestured his left arm and shoulder. “We each got these tattoos, the tiger’s stripes that set us apart from the rest.”

Amur, Khai understood. As in the Siberian tiger.

“We were the best at what we did,” he continued, “but she was something entirely different. Dangerous in a way none of us were. I paid special attention to her. Trained her, taught her everything I knew in an effort to stop her from becoming something terrible. But it seems that in so doing,” he lamented, “I created a monster.”

“At the cabin,” Khai noted, “you said she outgrew you.”

“I meant it,” he said. “She’s a chameleon; can hide in plain sight anywhere in the world. She’s fluent in seven languages, can infiltrate, impersonate… she can be a barista at your local Starbucks, a fitness instructor at the gym around the block, an art gallery director, anything; you’d never see her coming.”

“You almost sound proud of her.”

“In a way I am, but in another I feel sorry for her. She never shared much of her early life, but I knew there was a deep pain behind her eyes. I hoped to help her turn it into something better, but all I did was give her a set of tools to spread that pain.” Krueger shrugged. “I guess I should have foreseen that; altruism isn’t a lucrative trait for a soldier of fortune.”

Khai leaned in a little closer to him. “What happened between you two?”

Krueger looked away from her for a moment, then back at her. “My group was out of work for months when I agreed to what would become our final job, near the Laos-Cambodia border,” he said.

“The one you mentioned this morning.”

“That’s the one. After days of failed attempts of dragging them out of the forests we were given an ultimatum, put the resistance down or forego the pay. I had to take care of my people, so I took… steps.”

“Steps?”

“White phosphorous munitions,” he said. “Incendiary devices, the nasty kind.”

Khai knew what he was avoiding saying. “…you burned the forest down.”

“It worked,” Krueger said. “The resistance was routed, but it left a bad feeling in my gut. So I left, didn’t even wait to get paid. The others who stayed ended up dead, murdered in their sleep by the warlord’s militia.”

“Except for Seza,” she correctly deduced.

“She contacted me shortly after the others were killed. Told me she’d escaped and wanted to avenge them with me. I told her to walk away, but she didn’t. She called me a deserter and a coward, said she’d do herself what I was too weak to do. And I didn’t hear from her again—until this morning I thought she was dead.” Krueger tapped the tattoo under his shirt. “That’s why I got this… Have I ever told you what it is?”

“It’s a Jolly Roger, isn’t it?”

Krueger took a breath, pulling at his shirt strap to show more of it to her. “My great-uncle, he wore a sigil like this on his collar. From 1939 to 1943.”

Khai recalled that chapter in history. “He was SS,” she deduced.

Krueger nodded. “Totenkopfverbände,” he elaborated. “In charge of a death camp in Poland. I grew up hearing my father tell me about the letters he sent him, how he expressed his deep regret for carrying out his orders. He was a good man, forced to do evil.” He straightened back up. “And that’s what this is, a reminder of when I did something terrible for someone else’s benefit. A reminder of what never to do again.”

Until now, Khai had never heard him talk so much about himself or his past. She had been curious for a while, and now that she knew she pitied him for enduring so much pain throughout his life. She appreciated his relationship with Seza a little more now, and understood both his obligation to steer her on a different path than him, and his disappointment in her choice to keep doing as she had. “That couldn’t have been easy to talk about,” she finally said, cursing the distance between them. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Krueger leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “Trust is a two-way street, Miss Khai. You reassured me I can put my faith in you, and I felt I had to reciprocate.”

He said it. She could rest easy again. “And I’m grateful that you have. Thank you, again, Milo.”

Krueger offered her a nod. “You’re welcome, Elizabeth.”

They shared a moment of mutual understanding and newfound respect, neither daring to break the perfect silence between them.

Khai’s groaning stomach killed the mood. “Oh!” she said through an embarrassed laugh. “Excuse me, I’ve been so wrapped up in everything today I forgot to eat..!”

Krueger looked over at his dinner plate, and the stove top. “Well, I did cook enough for two meals. You’re welcome to stay and eat something before you go—”

“Oh, no,” she said, standing up again. “I wouldn’t dare impose.”

“Nonsense,” Krueger added, standing up as well. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. Besides, it’ll be too late by the time you get home to do anything about dinner. So please, stay, make yourself comfortable. Let me take your coat.”

Khai couldn’t help but smile to herself. “Well,” she chuckled, “how am I supposed to say ‘no’ now that you asked so nicely?” She unbuttoned her coat and unwrapped her scarf.

“You don’t,” he jested, taking her outerwear. Underneath she wore a form-fitting navy blue long-sleeve cotton shirt. “Have a seat at the table, I’ll be right with you.” He moved to a coat rack by the front door to hang her outerwear.

“Sure thing.” Khai walked past the seating area to the dining area across from the kitchenette and took a seat at a small square table. “You have to tell me where you got those couches,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I sat on something so comfortable.”

“I ordered them from Amelia’s,” he said, trotting over to the kitchenette to prepare a plate for her. “You know, the furniture store next to Everett’s boutique shop?”

“I have walked by there a few times, yeah. I’ve never actually taken a look inside, though.”

Krueger retrieved a square plate from the cabinet and set a portion of beef and vegetables onto it. “Remind me to give you her number sometime,” he said. “Tell her you’re a friend of Sebastian’s and she’ll take care of you.” He set the plate down in front of her with a knife, fork, napkin, and a bottle of water. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any wine to offer you.”

“This is plenty,” she said with a smile. “Thank you so much. Really, you’re a life-saver.”

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckled, taking a seat across from her at his own half-finished plate.

“Hang on,” she laughed, “is that where ‘Archangel’ comes from?”

“Oh, that?” Krueger chuckled. “I spent some months working in Mogadishu. The locals called me that—for all of my good deeds, no doubt. I never particularly liked it, but I suppose it stuck.”

“Well I’d say it fits..!” Khai cut a piece off her vegetables and took a bite.

 ~~

When dinner was over, Krueger walked her back toward the front door. “So what happens now?”

“Now?” Khai looked up at him as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. “I thank you for dinner, bid you good night, and replay this evening in my head on my drive back to Westchester.”

“I meant for the Branch,” Krueger laughed.

“Oh, them… I keep my eyes on Simon, and you stand by for the next assignment.”

“Any idea when that will be?”

“Hayden didn’t give me a timeline yet,” she disclosed. “But if you’re asking when we’ll see each other again, there’s a fantastic restaurant within walking distance of the office. I wouldn’t mind seeing you there for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to let you know my schedule.”

“Do keep me posted.” She stood there for a moment looking up at him. Then, throwing caution to the wind, wrapped her arms around the base of his neck and held a tight, earnest hug which Krueger returned. She untucked her head from the side of his neck to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for dinner,” she said as she released him. “Gute nacht, Milo.”

Krueger watched her slip her coat back on and head for the door. “Gute nacht, mein freund.” He took a moment to watch her walk back to her car through the window, and when he saw her enter and drive away, he turned back toward the kitchen to clean up.

 ~~~~

Simon Wells rolled his chair away from his desktop computer in his home office late that same night to prepare a nightcap before heading upstairs to bed. The light of the computer monitor had altered his visual acuity in the surrounding darkness; the only way he would see the butler bar at the far end of the office was if he switched a light on.

He reached over to a floor lamp and thumbed the switch, and nearly jumped out of his own skin when he saw her seated by the butler bar, clad in dark tactical pants and an A-shirt.

“Jesus..!” he exclaimed in whispers, careful not to wake the other people in the house, sleeping a floor above him. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack..?”

Seza, seated with crossed legs, swung her airborne foot. “Zero-seven-two-six-one-zero,” she said

“What?”

“The day of your wedding. Cute, but predictable.”

Simon made a mental note to have his home security system fixed. “You disabled the audio chimes, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t difficult,” she said plainly.

Simon sighed and headed over to where she sat. He scooped up a tumbler and shoveled some ice cubes into it, almost filling the glass with bourbon. He took a gulp from his glass, finishing half of it, and took a seat opposite the specialist. “Why are you even in my house?”

“To learn more about you, Mr. Wells. Tell me,” she mused, “where does your darling wife sleep? Your son? Do they know what you do? Are they listening to us now?”

“Leave them out of this, will you?” Simon took another gulp. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

“I’m here to inform you that Miles Orham has been terminated. Per the kill order you issued.”

“What do you want, a medal? That’s your job.” He stood up with his drink in hand. “Now go away.”

“Another professional was there too,” Seza added.

“Yeah, a guy named Krueger. He’s supposed to be good, but I spared no expense with you.”

“I know he’s good. I got to watch him work up close.”

Simon froze. “And you didn’t kill him?” he snapped.

“No.”

“Why the fuck not??” His yelling was stifled by the hour, and his sleeping family.

“That wasn’t the order,” she commented.

Simon cursed under his breath. He sat back down and placed his glass on the butler bar, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and first finger. “How much do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, so what do you want?”

“To inform you of your current situation,” she said. “Our business is concluded, but as a professional courtesy I will provide you with a word of warning: Milo Krueger is a very clever, very dangerous man. If he hasn’t yet determined it was you who sent my unit after Orham he will soon. And what do you think he will do when he does? What do you think will happen to your darling wife and son?”

Simon recoiled again at her mention of his family. “Will you kill him, then?”

“I will not,” Seza noted.

“Fine then..! Will you draw him into the open, so I can have one of my guys do it?”

“No. Our business is concluded,” Seza repeated, uncrossing her legs. “I will do nothing else for you.” She stood up and slipped on a waist-length down coat she had hanging over the back of the chair.

Simon threw his hand up to stop her. “Wait, goddammit..!” he pleaded. “Wait.” He took a moment to compose himself again. “If I offered to pay you again to take that job, would you?”

“That depends,” Seza said, sitting back down. “I’ll have to see the offer.”

“Alright,” Simon conceded. “I’ll draw up the contract in the morning.”

“You do that.” Seza stood back up to leave. “My men were talking, you know,” she added. “They’re saying they want another shot at Krueger, after what he did to them in Pennsylvania. You may want to include them in your offer.” Seza moved in total silence to the front door, where she re-engaged the security system and exited the Greenwich home, disappearing into the night.

(Next Chapter | Masterlist)

#fiction #original work #original content #original fiction #prose #creative writing #drama #thriller #crime fiction

[grigori77]

Summer 2019′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 2)

The Top Ten:

IMPORTANT NOTE:  You WILL NOT find It Chapter 2 here, but that does not mean it isn’t awesome.  I saw it AFTER I had sompleted this but while it was still editing.,  Technically it’s part of the Autumn/Winter period anyway, opening as it did in September.  Undoubtedly look out for it at the end of the year when I post my Top 30 for the year.

10.  CAPTIVE STATE – WAY back in 2011, Rupert Wyatt followed up his impressive directorial debut The Escapist with an even more astounding show helming sci-fi franchise reboot Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and I knew here was a talent it was definitely gonna be worth my while to watch in future.  Then the years ticked by and he spectacularly failed to follow it up, and I began to think he might become one of those frustrating auteur talents that explode onto the scene, wow us with their wares and then just STOP, like Donnie Darko’s Ryan Kelly or Blade’s Stephen Norrington.  I was just about to give up hope when Wyatt returned with this dark and troubling skewed take on the alien invasion trope, but now, perversely, this film’s failing fortunes make me think his career might just take a swan dive after all, and as far as I’m concerned, on the evidence of the final film, that would be a crying shame.  Instead of telling the story of how the Earth falls to the conquering might of invading alien forces, Captive State concentrates on what happens after, focusing on a humanity stagnating under the thumb of an all-powerful occupying force, the collaborating police force that maintains discipline on the populace through tagging and intrusive surveillance, and the deep cover resistance movement that’s built up in the eight years since “The Legislators” took over.  The main narrative focus of the story is Gabriel Drummond (Moonlight’s Ashton Sanders), a downtrodden Chicago youth working a menial job but dreaming of getting out with his pregnant girlfriend, who discovers a tentative connection to the underground resistance when his brother Rafe (White Boy Rick’s Jonathan Majors), whom he previously thought was dead, re-enters his life with a desperate request.  Unfortunately Gabriel has also come to the attention of local cop Will Mulligan (John Goodman), who’s looking to use this connection to finally penetrate the “dangerous terrorist element” his office has been working for years to eradicate.  This is about as far from the classical invasion action territory of films like Independence Day, Skyline or even Signs as you can get, playing out much more like a World War 2 occupation thriller, and this is, in my opinion, one of its great strengths – there’s a palpable, knife-edged tension throughout, Wyatt cranking up the suspense as each new plot development ups the stakes for all involved, and when that tension does eventually break it does so in suitably explosive style, leading to some taut and harrowing set-pieces, while the director and his co-writer Erica Beeney pull off some impressive twists and skilful rug-pulls that consistently surprise.  Indeed, this is one of the most skilfully written pieces of science fiction I’ve come across for a good while, brimming with big ideas and asking some suitably challenging questions throughout, before finally paying off our patience with a suitably powerful climax.  It’s also extremely well-performed by a uniformly impressive ensemble cast – Goodman offers a performance of cool subtlety that proves the equal to much of his showier work on hits like 10 Cloverfield Lane and The Big Lebowski, while Sanders and Majors are both exceptional in what should have been major breakthrough roles that really built on their already impressive debuts, and there’s quality support from the likes of Machine Gun Kelly, Vera Farmiga, Alan Ruck, Kevin Dunn and Madeline Brewer.  This is DEFINITELY one of the most robust and challenging pieces of scif-fi cinema I’ve seen this decade, and it certainly does deserve a lot more attention and appreciation than it’s received – it essentially bombed on its long-delayed release and suffered from painfully mixed, sometimes quite negative reviews, and I genuinely don’t understand either.  This is an EXCELLENT film, and it’s a strong indicator of just what a great talent Rupert Wyatt is – I just have to hope this hasn’t ruined his chances for the future, because I couldn’t bear seeing him pull an undeserved vanishing act like so many others …

9.  GODZILLA: KING OF MONSTERS – back in 2014, rising star director Gareth Edwards (already one-to-watch thanks to the sleeper hit success of his debut Monsters) proved he wasn’t going to be a one-hit-wonder when he aced his first major studio gig, reinventing Japanese superstar property Godzilla for western audiences and EFFORTLESSLY wiping out the appalling stigma of Roland Emmerich’s underwhelming previous attempt (needless to say he was then a no-brainer to helm the first Star Wars spinoff movie, Rogue One, but that’s another, even more awesome story). Suffice to say, the Big G’s name was good in western cinema again, and Legendary Pictures swiftly put their planned Monsterverse franchise into action, building on this solid foundation with a similarly stylish “prequel” in 2017’s Kong: Skull Island, with a showdown between the two screen icons intended further down the line.  The next major hurdle, however, was this super-important follow-up, intended to get all the gears turning – if THIS ONE flunked, the Monsterverse would take a massive nosedive.  Did it pull it off?  Not quite … turns out this one’s not looking likely to scrape even on its massive investment, never mind make a profit, but that sure ain’t for lack of trying. Sure, the plot’s a bit of a far-fetched muddle and, as with its predecessor, the human characters are drawn in broad strokes and somewhat lacking in real spark, but the spectacle’s still there in spades and besides, the REAL selling point of these movies has always been their more gigantic characters.  Godzilla’s just as much of a colossal badass as he was in the first film, still a skyscraper-high bruiser with a moody mean streak and some suitably apocalyptic bad breath, but ultimately just the kind of monumental reptile you want on your side in a cataclysmic scrap, and he’s sure got his work cut out for him with one serious collection of similarly massive monsters crawling out of the woodwork (or, in this case, compromised secure black sites controlled by covert Titan management organisation Monarch) – they’re a colourful bunch, from returning nasty Muto to newcomers Rodan and, particularly memorable, the beautiful but deadly Mothra, and most of them are heeding the call of the film’s TRUE scene stealer, triple-headed rival alpha Titan King Ghidorah, who is in every way a genuinely viable nemesis for the Big G himself.  Needless to say, the BIG stars are presented without compromise throughout, as gargantuan and terrifying as their reputations make them out to be, and whenever they’re on screen it just lights up, the visual effects budget working overtime and all the money’s up there on the screen, while the property damage quota shoots through the roof in suitably pulse-racing style … and yet again, the human story does kind of get buried in the fallout.  Not that they’re a completely unmemorable lot – it’s great to see Ken Watanabe return as elegantly noble Monarch honcho Dr Ishiro Serazawa, along with his assistant Dr Vivienne Graham (another winning turn from Sally Hawkins), and the rest of Monarch gets much stronger representation this time round as we’re introduced to a crew that includes Bradley Whitford, Ice Cube’s son O’Shea Jackson Jr. (Straight Outta Compton) and Aisha Hinds, while there’s a typically classy bad guy turn from Charles Dance as Alan Jonah, the amoral ex-soldier leading an eco-terrorist group who (for baffling reasons) want to awaken all the Titans at once so they can fight for supremacy.  The main narrative focus, however, is on the fractured family unit of former Monarch specialist Dr Mark Russell (Super 8’s Kyle Chandler) and his fellow scientist wife Emma and daughter Madison (Vera Farmiga and Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who have both been kidnapped by Jonah, a story that’s contrived and clumsily written, shot through with plot-holes when the twists aren’t painfully telegraphed ahead of time, and Brown barely gets ANYTHING to do other than be scared or stubborn, but they still give it their all and, since they’re all great actors, they largely win out against the writing.  This certainly isn’t the best movie released this year, definitely leaning more towards the guilty pleasure category, but there’s more than enough good here to outweigh the bad, so this is definitely one of those wonderful movies where you get PLENTY out of it if you just sit back and GO WITH IT.  It’s certainly got a strong director and co-writer in Michael Dougherty, who cut his teeth working for Bryan Singer on X2 and Superman Returns (which was similarly flawed, but still enjoyable in its own right) before making his big break behind the camera on Krampus, and for all its clunkiness it wins you over with its big-wow factor, can-do attitude and industrial-sized bucket-loads of heart and emotional heft, as well as a particularly cracking score from Bear McCreary, one of the most deservedly well respected composers working on both the big and small screens today, so in spite of the flaws this still deserves to be counted as a pretty rousing success.  Thankfully Godzilla Vs. King Kong is still greenlit and scheduled to arrive next spring, so there’s still life in the old lizards yet – long live the King indeed.

8.  DARK PHOENIX – wow, this really has been a summer for mistreated sequels, hasn’t it? There’s a seriously stinky cloud of controversy surrounding what is now, in light of recent developments between Disney and Twentieth Century Fox, all but QUARANTEED to be the last true Singer-era X-Men movie, a film which saw two mooted release dates (first November 2018 then this February, before finally limping onto screens with very little fanfare in June, almost as if Fox wanted to bury it.  Certainly rumours of its compromise were rife, particularly regarding supposed rushed reshoots because of clashing similarities with Marvel’s major tent-pole release Captain Marvel (and given the all-conquering nature of the MCU there was no way they were having that, was there?), so like many I was expecting a clunky mess, maybe even a true stinker to rival X-Men Origins: Wolverine.  In truth, while it’s not perfect, the end result is nothing like the turd we all feared – the final film is, in fact, largely a success, worthy of favourable comparison with its stronger predecessors.  It certainly makes much needed amends for the disappointing mismanagement of the source comics’ legendary Dark Phoenix saga in 2006’s decidedly compromised original X-Men trilogy capper The Last Stand, treating the story with the due reverence and respect it deserves as well as serving as a suitably powerful send-off for more than one beloved key character.  Following the “rebooted” path of the post-Days of Future Past timeline, it’s now 1992, and after the world-changing events of Apocalypse the X-Men have now become a respected superhero team with legions of fans and their own personal line to the White House, while mutants at large have now mostly become accepted by the regular humans around them.  Then a hastily planned mission into space takes a turn for the worst and Jean Grey (Game of Thrones’ Sophie Turner) winds up absorbing an immensely powerful, thoroughly inexplicable cosmic force that makes her go powers haywire while also knocking loose repressed childhood traumas Professor Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) would rather had stayed buried, sending her on a dangerous spiral out of control which leads to a destructive confrontation and the inadvertent death of a teammate. Needless to the situation soon becomes desperate as Jean goes on the run and the world starts to turn against them all once again … all in all, then, it’s business as usual for the cast and crew of one of Fox’s flagship franchises, and it SHOULD have gone off without a hitch. When Bryan Singer opted not to return this time around (instead setting his sights on Queen biopic Bohemian Rhapsody), key series writer Simon Kinberg stepped into the breach for his directorial debut, and it turns out he’s got a real talent for it, giving us just the kind of robust, pacy, thrilling action-packed epic his compatriot would have delivered, filled with the same thumping great set-pieces (the final act’s stirring, protracted train battle is the unequivocal highlight here), well-observed character beats and emotional resonance we’ve come to expect from the series as a whole (then again, he does know these movies back to frond having at least co-written his fair share). The cast, similarly, are all on top form – McAvoy and Michael Fassbender (as fan favourite Erik Lehnsherr, aka Magneto) know their roles so well now they can do this stuff in their sleep, but we still get to see them explore interesting new facets of their characters (particularly McAvoy, who gets to reveal an intriguing dark side to the Professor we’ve only ever seen hinted at before now), while Turner finally gets to really breathe in a role which felt a little stiff and underexplored in her series debut in Apocalypse (she EASILY forges the requisite connective tissue to Famke Janssen’s more mature and assured take in the earlier films); conversely Tye Sheridan (Cyclops), Alexandra Shipp (Storm), Kodi Smit-McPhee (Nightcrawler) and Evan Peters (Quicksilver) get somewhat short shrift but nonetheless do A LOT with what little they have, and at least Jennifer Lawrence and Nicholas Hoult still get to do plenty of dramatic heavy lifting as the last of Xavier’s original class, Raven (Mystique) and Hank McCoy (Beast); the only real weak link in the cast is the villain, Vuk, a shape-shifting alien whose quest to seize the power Jean’s appropriated is murkily defined at best, but at least Jessica Chastain manages to invest her with enough icy menace to keep things from getting boring.  All in all, then, this is very much a case of business as usual, Kinberg and co keeping the action thundering along at a suitably cracking pace throughout (powered by a typically epic score from Hans Zimmer), and the film only really comes off the rails in its final moments, when that aforementioned train finally comes off its tracks and the reported reshoots must surely kick in – as a result this is, to me, most reminiscent of previous X-flick The Wolverine, which was a rousing success for the majority of its runtime, only coming apart in its finale thanks to that bloody ridiculous robot samurai. The climax is, therefore, a disappointment, too clunky and sudden and overly neat in its denouement (and we really could have done with a proper examination of the larger social impact of these events), but it’s little enough that it doesn’t spoil what came before … which just makes the film’s mismanagement and resulting failure, as well as its subsequent treatment from critics and fans alike, all the more frustrating. This film deserved much better, but ultimately looks set to be disowned and glossed over by most of the fanbase as the property as a whole goes through the inevitable overhaul now that Disney/Marvel owns Fox and plans to bring the X-Men and their fellow mutants into the MCU fold.  I feel genuinely sorry for the one remaining X-film, The New Mutants, which is surely destined for spectacular failure after its similarly shoddy round of reschedules finally comes to an end next summer …

7.  FAST COLOR – intriguingly, the most INTERESTING superhero movie I’ve encountered so far this year is NOT a major franchise property, or even a comic book adapted to the screen at all, but a wholly original indie which snuck in very much under the radar on its release but is surely destined for cult greatness in the future, not least due to some much-deserved critical acclaim.  Set in an unspecified future where it hasn’t rained for years, a homeless vagabond named Ruth (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) is making her aimless way across a desolate American Midwest, tormented by violent seizures which cause strange localised earthquakes, and hunted by Bill (Argo’s Christopher Denham), a rogue scientist who wants to capture her so he can study her abilities.  Ultimately she’s left with no other recourse than to run home, sheltering with her mother Bo (Middle of Nowhere and Orange is the New Black’s Lorraine Toussaint), and her young daughter Lila (The Passage’s Saniyya Sidney), both of whom also have weird and wondrous powers of their own.  As the estranged family reconnect, Ruth finally learns to control her powers as she’s forced to confront her own troubled past, but as Bill closes in it looks like their idyll might be short-lived … this might only be the second feature of writer-director Julie Hart (who cut her teeth penning well-regarded indie western The Keeping Room before making her own debut helming South By Southwest Film Festival hit Miss Stevens), but it’s a blinding statement of intent for the future, a deceptively understated thing of beauty that eschews classic superhero cinema conventions of big spectacle and rousing action in favour of a quiet, introspective character-driven story where the unveiling and exploration of Ruth and her kin’s abilities are secondary to the examination of how their familial dynamics work (or often DON’T), while Hart and cinematographer Michael Fimognari (probably best known for his frequent work for Mike Flanagan, including forthcoming Stephen King horror Doctor Sleep) bring a ruined but bleakly beautiful future to life through inventively understated production design and sweeping, dramatic vistas largely devoid of visual effects.  Subtlety is the watchword, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t fireworks here, it’s just that they’re generally performance-based – awards-darling Mbatha-Raw (Belle) gives a raw, heartfelt performance, painting Rith in vivid shades of grey, while Toussaint is restrained but powerfully memorable and Sidney builds on her already memorable work to deliver what might be her best turn to date, and there are strong supporting turns from Denham (who makes his nominal villain surprisingly sympathetic) and Hollywood great David Strathairn as gentle small town sheriff Ellis.  Leisurely paced and understated it may be, but this is still an incendiary piece of work, sure to become a breakout sleeper hit for a filmmaking talent from whom I expect GREAT THINGS in the future, and since the story’s been picked up for expansion into a TV series with Hart at in charge that looks like a no-brainer.  And it most assuredly IS a bona fide superhero movie, despite appearances to the contrary …

6.  ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD – since his explosion onto the scene twenty-seven years ago with his runaway smash debut Reservoir Dogs, Quentin Tarantino has become one of the most important filmmakers of his generation, a true master of the cinematic art form who consistently delivers moving picture masterpieces that thrill, entertain, challenge and amuse audiences worldwide … at least those who can stomach his love of unswerving violence, naughty talk and morally bankrupt antiheroes and despicably brutal villains who are often little more than a shade different from one another.  Time has moved on, though, and while he’s undoubtedly been one of the biggest influences on the way cinema has changed over the past quarter century, there are times now that it’s starting to feel like the scene is moving on in favour of younger, fresher blood with their own ideas.   I think Tarantino can sense this himself, because he recently made a powerful statement – after he’s made his tenth film, he plans to retire.  Given that OUATIH is his NINTH film, that deadline is already looming, and we unashamed FANS of his films are understandably aghast over this turn of events.  Thankfully he remains as uncompromisingly awesome a writer-director as ever, delivering another gold standard five-star flick which is also most definitely his most PERSONAL work to date, quite simply down to the fact that it’s a film ABOUT film. Sure, it has a plot (of sorts, anyway), revolving around the slow decline of the career of former TV star Rick Dalton (Leonardo Dicaprio), who languishes in increasing anonymity in Hollywood circa 1969 as his former western hero image is being slowly eroded by an increasingly hacky workload guest-starring on various syndicated shows as a succession of punching-bag heavies for the hero to wale on, while his only real friend is his one-time stunt double, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), a former WW2 hero with a decidedly tarnished reputation of his own; meanwhile new neighbours have moved in next door to further distract him – hot-as-shit young director Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha), riding high on the success of Rosemary’s Baby, and his new wife Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie). Certainly this all drives the film, along with real-life events that involving one of the darkest crimes in modern American history, but a lot of the time the plot is largely coincidental – Quentin uses it as a springboard to wax lyrical about his very favourite subject and pay loving (if sometimes irreverently satirical) tribute to the very business he’s been indulging in with such great success since 1992.  Sure, it’s also about “Helter Skelter” and the long shadow cast by Charles Manson and his band of murderous misfits, but these are largely incidental, as we’re treated to long, entertaining interludes as we follow Rick on a shoot as the bad guy in the pilot for the Lancer TV series, visit the notorious Spahn Ranch with Cliff as he’s unwittingly drawn into the lion’s den of the deadly Manson Family, join Robbie’s Tate as she watches “herself” in The Wrecking Crew, and enjoy a brilliant montage in which we follow Rick’s adventures in Spaghetti westerns (and Eurospy cinema) after he’s offered a chance to change his flagging fortunes, before the film finally builds to a seemingly inevitable, fateful conclusion that Tarantino then, in sneakily OTT Inglourious Basterds style, mischievously turns on its head with a devilish game of “What If”.  The results are a thoroughly engrossing and endlessly entertaining romp through the seedier side of Hollywood and a brilliant warts-and-all examination of the craft’s inner workings that, interestingly, reveals as much about the Business today as it does about how it was way back into Golden Age the film portrays, all while delivering bucket-loads of QT’s trademark cool, swagger, idiosyncratic genius and to-die-for dialogue and character-work, and, of course, a typically exceptional all-star cast firing on all cylinders.  Dicaprio and Pitt are both spectacular (Brad is endearingly taciturn, playing it wonderfully close to the vest throughout, while Leo is simply ON FIRE, delivering a mercurial performance EASILY on a par with his work on Shutter Island and The Wolf of Wall Street – could this be good enough to snag him a second Oscar?), while Robbie consistently endears us to Tate as she EFFORTLESSLY brings the fallen star back to life, and there’s an incredible string of amazing supporting turns from established talent and up-and-comers alike, from Kurt Russell, Al Pacino and a very spiky Bruce Dern to Mike Moh (in a FLAWLESS take on Bruce Lee), Margaret Qualley, Austin Butler and in particular Julia Butters as precocious child star Trudi Fraser.  Packed with winning references, homages, pastiches and ingenious little in-jokes, handled with UTMOST respect for the true life subjects at all times and shot all the way through with his characteristic flair and quirky, deliciously dark sense of humour, this is cinema very much of the Old School, and EVERY INCH a Tarantino flick.  With only one more film to go the implied end of his career seems much too close, but if he delivers one more like this he’ll leave behind a legacy that ANY filmmaker would be proud of.

5.  CRAWL – summer 2019’s runner-up horror offering marks a rousing return to form for a genre talent who’s FINALLY delivered on the impressive promise of his early work – Alexandre Aja made a startling debut with Switchblade Romance, which led to his big break helming the cracking remake of slasher stalwart The Hills Have Eyes, but then he went SPECTACULARLY off the rails when he made the truly abysmal Piranha 3D, which I wholeheartedly regard as one of THE VERY WORST FILMS EVER MADE IN ALL OF HISTORY.  He took a big step back in the right direction with the admittedly flawed but ultimately enjoyable and evocative Horns (based on the novel by Stephen King’s son Joe Hill), but it’s with this stripped back, super-tight man-against-nature survival horror that the Aja of old has TRULY returned to us.  IN SPADES.  Seriously, I personally think this is his best film to date – there’s no fat on it at all, going from a simple set-up STRAIGHT into a precision-crafted exercise in sustained tension that relentlessly grips right up to the end credits. The film is largely just a two-hander – Maze Runner star Kaya Scodelario plays Haley Keller, a Florida college student and star swimmer who ventures into the heart of a Category 5 hurricane to make sure her estranged father, Dave (Saving Private Ryan’s Barry Pepper), is okay after he drops off the grid.  Finding their old family home in a state of disrepair and slowly flooding, she does a last minute check of the crawl-space underneath, only to discover her father badly wounded and a couple of hungry alligators stalking the dark, cramped, claustrophobic confines.  With the flood waters rising and communications cut off, Haley and Dave must use every reserve of strength, ingenuity and survival instinct to keep each other alive in the face of increasingly daunting odds … even with a premise this simple, there was plenty of potential for this to become an overblown, clunky mess in the wrong hands (a la Snakes On a Plane), so it’s a genuinely great thing that Aja really is back at the height of his powers, milking every fraught and suspenseful set-piece to its last drop of exquisite piano-wire tension and putting his actors through hell without a reprieve in sight.  Thankfully it’s not JUST about scares and atmosphere, though – there’s a genuinely strong family drama at the heart of the story that helps us invest in these two, Scodelario delivering a phenomenally complex performance as she peels back Haley’s layers, from stubborn pedant, through vulnerable child of divorce, to ironclad born survivor, while reconnecting with her emotionally raw, repentantly open father, played with genuine naked intensity in a career best turn from Pepper.  Their chemistry is INCREDIBLY strong, making every scene a joy even as it works your nerves and tugs on your heartstrings, and as a result you DESPERATELY want to see them make it out in one piece.  Not that Aja makes it easy for them – the gators are an impressively palpable threat, proper scary beasties even if they are largely (admittedly impressively executed) digital effects, while the storm is almost a third character in itself, becoming as much of an elemental nemesis as its scaly co-stars.  Blessedly brief (just 87 minutes!) and with every second wrung out for maximum impact, this is survival horror at its most brutally, simplistically effective, a deliciously vicious, primal chill-ride that thoroughly rewards from start to finish.  Welcome back, Mr Aja.  We’ve missed you.

4.  BRIGHTBURN – torpedoing Crawl right out of the water is this refreshing, revisionist superhero movie that takes one of the most classic mythologies in the genre and turns it on its head with TERRIFYING results. The basic premise is an absolute blinder – what if, when he crashed in small-town America as a baby, Superman had turned out to be a bad seed?  Unsurprising, then, that it came from James Gunn, who here produces a screenplay by his brother and cousin Brian and Mark (best known for penning the likes of Journey 2: the Mysterious Island, but nobody’s perfect) and the directorial big break of his old mate David Yarovesky (whose only previous feature is obscure sci-fi horror The Hive) – Gunn is, of course, an old pro at taking classic comic book tropes and creating something completely new with them, having previously done so with HUGE success on cult indie black comedy Super and, in particular, Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy movies, and his fingerprints are ALL OVER this one too.  The Hunger Games’ Elizabeth Banks (who starred in Gunn’s own directorial debut Slither) and David Denman (The Office) are Tori and Kyle Breyer, a farming couple living in Brightburn, Kansas, who are trying for a baby when a mysterious pod falls from the sky onto their land, containing an infant boy.  As you’d expect, they adopt him, determined to keep his origin a secret, and for the first twelve of his life all seems perfectly fine – Brandon’s growing up into an intelligent, artistic child who loves his family.  Then his powers manifest and he starts to change – not just physically (he’s impervious to harm, incredibly strong, has laser eyes and the ability to disrupt electronic devices … oh, and he can fly, too), but also in personality, as he becomes cold, distant, even cruel as he begins to demonstrate some seriously sociopathic tendencies.  As his parents begin to fear what he’s becoming, things begin to spiral out of control and people start to disappear or turn up brutally murdered, and it becomes clear that Brandon might actually be something out of a nightmare … needless to say this is superhero cinema as full-on horror, Brandon’s proclivities leading to some proper nasty moments once he really starts to cut loose, and there’s no mistaking this future super for one of the good guys – he pulverises bones, shatters faces and melts skulls with nary a twitch, just the tiniest hint of a smile.  It’s an astonishing performance from newcomer Jackson A. Dunn, who perfectly captures the nuanced subtleties as Brandon goes from happy child to lethal psychopath, clearly demonstrating that he’s gonna be an incredible talent in future; the two grown leads, meanwhile, are both excellent, Denman growing increasingly haunted and exasperated as he tries to prove his own son is a wrong ‘un, while Banks has rarely been better, perfectly embodying a mother desperately clinging to the idea that her son is innocent no matter how compelling the evidence becomes, and there’s quality support from Breaking Bad’s Matt Jones and Search Party’s Meredith Hagner as Brandon’s aunt and uncle, Noah and Meredith, and Becky Wahlstrom the mother of one of his school-friends, who seems to see him for what he is right from the start.  Dark, suspenseful and genuinely nasty, this is definitely not your typical superhero movie, often playing like Kick-Ass’ even more twisted cousin, and there are times when it displays some of the same edgy, black-hearted sense of humour, too.  In other words, it’s all very James Gunn.  It’s one sweet piece of work, everyone involved showing real skill and devotion, and Yarovesky in particular proves he’ll definitely be one-to-watch in the future.  There are already plans for a potential sequel, and given where this particular little superhero universe seems to be heading I think it could be something pretty special, so fair to say I can’t wait.

3.  FAST & FURIOUS PRESENTS HOBBS & SHAW – it’s official, this summer’s most OTT movie is THE MOST FUN I’ve had at the cinema so far this year, a genuinely batshit crazy, pure bonkers rollercoaster ride of a film I just couldn’t get enough of, truly the perfect sum of all its baffling parts.  The Fast & Furious franchise has always revelled in its extremes, as subtle as a brick and very much playing to the blockbuster, popcorn movie crowd right from the start, but it wasn’t until Fate of the Furious (yup, ridiculous title, says it all) that it really started to play to the inherent ridiculousness of its overall setup, paving the way for this first crack at a new spin-off series for the post Vin Diesel years.  Needless to say this one has fully embraced the sheer ludicrousness, and director David Leitch is the perfect choice to shepherd it into the future, having previously mastered OTT action through John Wick and Atomic Blonde before helming manic screwball comedy Deadpool 2, which certainly is the strongest comparison point here – Hobbs & Shaw is every bit as loud, violent, chaotic and thoroughly irreverent, definitely playing up the inherent comic potential at the core of the material as he cranks up the humour. Dwayne Johnson and Jason Statham take centre stage now as, respectively, DSS agent Luke Hobbs and former SAS black operative Deckard Shaw, the ultimate action movie odd couple once again forced to work together to foil the bad guy and save the world from a potentially cataclysmic disaster.  Specifically Brixton Lore (Idris Elba), a self-proclaimed “black superman” enhanced with cybernetic implants and genetic manipulation to turn him into the ultimate warrior, who plans to use a lethal designer supervirus to eradicate half of humanity (as supervillains tend to do), but there’s one small flaw in his plan – the virus has been stolen by Hattie Shaw (Mission: Impossible – Fallout’s Vanessa Kirby), a rogue MI6 agent who also happens to be Deckard’s sister.  Got all that?  Yup, the movie really is as mad as it sounds, but that’s very much part of the charm – there’s an enormous amount of fun to be had in just giving in and going along with the madness of it all, as Hobbs and the two Shaws bounce from one over-the-top, ludicrously destructive set-piece to the next, kicking plenty of arse along the way when they’re not jumping out of tall buildings or driving fast cars at ludicrous speeds in heavy traffic, and when they’re not doing that they’re bickering with enthusiasm, each exchange crackling with exquisite hate-hate chemistry and liberally laced with hilarious dialogue delivered with gleeful, fervent venom (turns out there’s few things so enjoyable a watching Johnson and Statham verbally rip each other a new one), and the two action cinema heavyweights have never been better than they are here, each bringing the very best performances of their respective careers out of each other as they vacillate, while Kirby holds her own with consummate skill that goes to show she’s got a bright future of her own.  As for Idris Elba, the one-time potential future Bond deserves to be remembered as one of the all-time great screen villains ever, investing Brixton with the perfect combination of arrogant swagger and lethal menace to steal every scene he’s in while simultaneously proving he can be just as big a badass in the action stakes; Leitch also scatters a selection of familiar faces from his previous movies throughout a solid supporting cast which also includes the likes of Fear the Walking Dead’s Cliff Curtis, From Dusk Till Dawn’s Eiza Gonzalez and Helen Mirren (who returns as Deckard and Hattie’s mum Queenie Shaw), while there’s more than one genuinely brilliant surprise cameo to enjoy.  As we’ve come to expect, the action sequences are MASSIVE, powered by nitrous oxide and high octane as property is demolished and vehicles are driven with reckless abandon when our protagonists aren’t engaged bruising, bone-crunching fights choreographed with all the flawless skill you’d expect from a director who used to be a professional stuntman, but this time round the biggest fun comes from the downtime, as the aforementioned banter becomes king.  It’s an interesting makeover for the franchise, going from heavyweight action stalwart to comedy gold, and it’s direction I hope they’ll maintain for the inevitable follow-up – barring Fast Five, this is the best Fast & Furious to date, and a strong indicator of how it should go to keep conquering multiplexes in future.  Sign me up for more, please.

2.  SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME – this summer’s been something of a decompression period for fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with many of us recovering from the sheer emotional DEVASTATION of the grand finale of Phase 3, Avengers: Endgame, so the main Blockbuster Season’s entry really needed to be light and breezy, a blessed relief after all that angst and loss, much like Ant-Man & the Wasp was last year as it followed Infinity War.  And it is, by and large – this is as light-hearted and irreverent as its predecessor, following much the same goofy teen comedy template as Homecoming, but there’s no denying that there’s a definite emotional through-line from Endgame that looms large here, a sense of loss the film fearlessly addresses right from the start, sometimes with a bittersweet sense of humour, sometimes straight.  But whichever path the narrative chooses, the film stays true to this underlying truth – there have been great and painful changes in this world, and we can’t go back to how it was before, no matter how hard we try, but then perhaps we shouldn’t.  This is certainly central to our young hero’s central arc – Peter Parker (Tom Holland) is in mourning, and not even the prospect of a trip around Europe with his newly returned classmates, together with the chance to finally get close to M.J. (Zendaya), maybe even start a relationship, can entirely distract him from the gaping hole in his life.  Still, he’s gonna give it his best shot, but it looks like fate has other plans for our erstwhile Spider-Man as superspy extraordinaire Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) comes calling, basically hijacking his vacation with an Avengers-level threat to deal with, aided by enigmatic inter-dimensional superhero Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio (Jake Gyllenhaal), who has a personal stake in the mission, but as he’s drawn deeper into the fray Peter discovers that things may not be quite as they seem.  Of course, giving anything more away would of course dumps HEINOUS spoilers on the precious few who haven’t yet seen the film – suffice to say that the narrative drops a MAJOR sea-change twist at the midpoint that’s EVERY BIT as fiendish as the one Shane Black gave us in Iron Man 3 (although the more knowledgeable fans of the comics will likely see it coming), and also provides Peter with JUST the push he needs to get his priorities straight and just GET OVER IT once and for all.  Tom Holland again proves his character is the most endearing teenage geek in cinematic history, his spectacular super-powered abilities and winning underdog perseverance in the face of impossible odds still paradoxically tempered by the fact he’s as loveably hopeless as ever outside his suit; Mysterio himself, meanwhile, frequently steals the film out from under him, the strong bromance they develop certainly mirroring what Peter had with Tony Stark, and it’s a major credit to Gyllenhaal that he so perfectly captures the essential dualities of the character, investing Beck with a roguish but subtly self-deprecating charm that makes him EXTREMELY easy to like, but ultimately belying something much more complex hidden beneath it; it’s also nice to see so many beloved familiar faces returning, particularly the fantastically snarky and self-assured Zendaya, Jacob Batalon (once again pure comic gold as Peter’s adorably nerdy best friend Ned), Tony Revolori (as his self-important class rival Flash Thompson) and, of course, Marisa Tomei as beloved Aunt May, as well as Jackson and Cobie Smoulders as dynamite SHIELD duo Fury and his faithful lieutenant Maria Hill, and best of all Jon Favreau gets a MUCH bigger role this time round as Happy Hogan.  Altogether this is very much business as usual for the MCU, the well-oiled machine unsurprisingly turning out another near-perfect gem of a superhero flick that ticks all the required boxes, but a big part of the film’s success should be attributed to returning director Jon Watts, effectively building on the granite-strong foundations of Homecoming with the help of fellow alumni Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers on screenplay duty, for a picture that feels both comfortingly familiar and rewardingly fresh, delivering on all the required counts with thrilling action and eye candy spectacle, endearingly quirky character-based charm and a typically winning sense of humour, and plenty of understandably powerful emotional heft.  And, like always, there are plenty of fan-pleasing winks and nods and revelations, and the pre-requisite mid- and post-credit teasers too, both proving to be some proper game-changing corkers.  The future of the property may be in doubt, but this is still another winner from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but then was there really ever any doubt?

1.  JOHN WICK CHAPTER 3 – needless to say, those who know me should be in no doubt why THIS is at the top of my list for summer 2019 – this has EVERYTHING I love in movies and more. Keanu Reeves is back in the very best role he’s ever played, unstoppable, unbeatable, un-killable hitman John Wick, who, when we rejoin him mere moments after the end of 2017’s phenomenal Chapter 2, is in some SERIOUSLY deep shit, having been declared Incommunicado by the High Table (the all-powerful ruling elite who run this dark and deadly shadowy underworld) after circumstances forced him to gun down an enemy on the grounds of the New York Continental Hotel (the inviolable sanctuary safe-house for all denizens of the underworld), as his last remaining moments of peace tick away and he desperately tries to find somewhere safe to weather the initial storm.  Needless to say the opening act of the film is ONE LONG ACTION SEQUENCE as John careers through the rain-slick backstreets of New York, fighting off attackers left and right with his signature brutal efficiency and unerring skill, perfectly setting up what’s to come – namely a head-spinning, exhausting parade of spectacular set pieces that each put EVERY OTHER offering in any other film this year to shame.  Returning director Chad Stahelski again proves that he’s one of the very best helmsmen around for this kind of stuff, delivering FAR beyond the call on every count as he creates a third entry to a series that continues to go from strength to strength, while Keanu once again demonstrates what a phenomenal screen action GOD he is, gliding through each scenario with poise, precision and just the right balance of brooding charm and so-very-done-with-this-shit intensity and a thoroughly enviable athletic physicality that really does put him on the same genre footing as Tom Cruise.  As with the first two chapters, what plot there is is largely an afterthought, a facility to fuel the endless wave of stylish, wince-inducing, thoroughly exhilarating violent bloodshed, as John cuts another bloody swathe through the underworld searching for a way to remove the lethal bounty from his head while an Adjudicator from the High Table (Orange Is the New Black’s Asia Kate Dillon) arrives in New York to settle affairs with Winston (Ian McShane), the manager of the New York Continental, and the Bowery King (Laurence Fishburne) for helping John create this mess in the first place.  McShane and Fishburne are both HUGE entertainment in their fantastically nuanced large-than-life roles, effortlessly stealing each of their scenes, while the ever-brilliant Lance Reddick also makes a welcome return as Winston’s faithful right-hand Charon, the concierge of the Continental, who finally gets to show off his own hardcore action chops when trouble arrives at their doorstep, and there are plenty of franchise newcomers who make strong impressions here – Dillon is the epitome of icy imperiousness, perfectly capturing the haughty superiority you’d expect from a direct representative of the High Table, Halle Berry gets a frustratingly rare opportunity to show just how seriously badass she can be as former assassin Sofia, the manager of the Casablanca branch of the Continental and one of John’s only remaining allies, Game of Thrones’ Jerome Flynn is smarmy and entitled as her boss Berrada, and Anjelica Houston is typically classy as the Director, the ruthless head of New York’s Ruska Roma (John’s former “alma mater”, basically). The one that REALLY sticks in the memory, though, is Mark Dacascos, finally returning to the big time after frustrating years languishing in lurid straight-to-video action dreck and lowbrow TV hosting duties thanks to a BLISTERING turn as Zero, a truly brilliant semi-comic creation who routinely runs away with the film – he’s the Japanese master ninja the Adjudicator tasks with dispensing her will, a thoroughly lethal killer who may well be as skilled as our hero, but his deadliness is amusingly tempered by the fact that he’s also a total nerd who HERO WORSHIPS John Wick, adorably geeking out whenever their paths cross.  Their long-gestating showdown provides a suitably magnificent climax to the action, but there’s plenty to enjoy in the meantime, as former stuntman Stahelski and co keep things interestingly fluid as they constantly change up the dynamics and add new elements, from John using kicking horses in a stable and knives torn out of display cases in a weaponry museum to dispatch foes on the fly, through Sofia’s use of attack dogs to make the Moroccan portion particularly nasty and a SPECTACULAR high octane sequence in which John fights katana-wielding assailants on speeding motorcycles, to the film’s UNDISPUTABLE highlight, an astounding fight in which John takes on Zero’s disciples (including two of the most impressive guys from The Raid movies, Cecep Arif Rahman and Yayan Ruhian) in (and through) an expansive chamber made up entirely of glass walls and floors.  Altogether then, this is business as usual for a franchise that’s consistently set the bar for the genre as a whole, an intensely bruising, blissfully blood-drenched epic that cranks its action up to eleven, shot with delicious neon-drenched flair and glossy graphic novel visual excess, a consistently inspired exercise in fascinating world-building that genuinely makes you want to live among its deadly denizens (even though you probably wouldn’t live very long).  The denouement sets things up for an inevitable sequel, and I’m not at all surprised – right from the first film I knew the concept had some serious legs, and it’s just too good to quit yet. Which is just how I like it …

#movies 2019 #captive state #godzilla king of the monsters #dark phoenix #fast color #once upon a time in hollywood #crawl #crawl movie #brightburn #hobbs and shaw #spider man far from home #John Wick Chapter 3 #awesome sauce

[hollyjung]

& intro

IM YOONA / CISFEMALE. — holly jung is really making a name for themselves as a sheep. i think that she is studying fashion design in their senior year at lockwood, living in potentas. originally from laramie, holly is known to be nurturing & diligent, but can also be bossy & cynical. — ani / 27 / gmt-3 / she/her.

drugs tw, kidnapping tw, disappearance tw, missing person tw

- this got infinitely long so, tl;dr: born in busan, south korea. parents divorced and remarried, moved to wyoming with her mom and stepdad. dated elias, nearly got married. studied pre-law for a bit, freaked out, ran off, came back to study fashion design. personality wise, she can come off a little ditzy but it’s a defense technique. really smart, kind, but has been through bad shit and knows better always, no matter the circumstances. mom friend but if you call her that then she’s your no longer friend.

okay so long detailed bio ahead!

- when she was barely months old, her parents split up. truth was, they’d both been in love with other people before holly was conceived, but they’d tried to make it work for her once they’d realized she was on her way. - her mom got remarried shortly after to a handsome older guy who worked at the same company she did but in america, and he got her a transfer to his office — in wyoming. - holly sees her dad once a year, at most, sometimes even less, but they are on good terms. sort of. her mom’s really taken to the american spirit (was always ready for it, always a huge fan of the culture, named holly after holly golightly because audrey just seemed like a mouthful), and her dad isn’t always fully on board with her choices, but they’ve managed to still love each other. the distance helps. - laramie, wyoming, is nice little town, but not a great place for anyone who’s a little different. holly, though, was always too caught up in whatever she was currently being passionate about to even notice if anyone shot her dirty looks or tried to bully her. she always had goals, and was too focused on achieving them to give a shit about other people. - she’s always been passionate about her goals, but she’s never persistent about them. at five, she decided she’d be a ballerina, and her parents sent her to dance school for years. at eight, she decided that was stupid, and she wanted to be a vet. her parents bought her a puppy. at nine — you get the idea. it could’ve been attributed to her being a kid, but then she’s just stayed like throughout her whole life, and it’s resulted in her being very good at small talk because she knows a little about many things, but not a lot about anything. - because of this, when she got her first crush at fourteen, her mother paid no attention to it, sure it would be passionate infatuation for two seconds and then she wouldn’t even remember the name of the boy. this was not the case, in the slightest. instead, she dated elias for so many years, her parents were sure he’d be the one (she was sure he was the one, too). - by the time they started dating, holly had carved a nice little spot for herself in high school, despite the difficulties. she was a cheerleader, had perfect grades, and as far as she was concerned, was enough of a rebel to be considered cool among her friends. sure, her rebellion only went as far as getting wasted and maybe even doing a line every now and then, but she sure felt like she was living the rockstar life. - from the start, elias had been the center of her universe. her life was easy, her house was a peaceful one, and though he wouldn’t say it, she’d been to his enough times to know his wasn’t, and it made her want to look after him, protect him. he was so good to her, she couldn’t understand how life could be so unfair to him, and thus in her brain a plan started to form, which they discussed in great detail. they’d go away, live somewhere far away, get married, have a thousand dogs. be safe and happy. she’d take care of him (this part she didn’t share). - when wyatt disappeared, things took a dark turn. fingers were pointed. threats were made. holly had been at the party with elias, holly had known wyatt, had babysat him, she couldn’t get out of being involved and she wouldn’t have wanted to. her parents were worried, but unlike a lot of people in their town, they were always sure the paxton brothers couldn’t have had anything to do with it. they were good kids, they had no doubt about it. even when elias kept getting into trouble, and from the other side of the ocean, holly’s dad suggested she would be better off, they let her follow her heart. - her heart led her to lockwood, which felt like it’d be far enough, and where she knew the pre-law program was good. it was a bit of a surprise to everyone, that she’d choose law out of all things, considering she’d never shown an inteerest in it before, but her inner veronica mars had decided if every single laramie cop was gonna be an idiot about the case, she was gonna get a real degree that could help her solve it, and she’d find wyatt, bring him back, fix the whole thing, and her plan would be back on track. - elias proposed, and the plan seemed more real than ever. but then she was actually studying cases, learning about how things worked in the real world, and slowly, she started to become convinced that if they ever did find wyatt — the chances of him being alive out there were slim. it was a tough pill to swallow, but once it got into her head, it was all she could think about, and it started to get under her skin, constantly crawling into her dreams, making it impossible for her to focus on studying, and making her feel further and further away from her fiance. if wyatt was dead, she couldn’t be the one to find him, therefore, there was nothing she could do for him. couldn’t help. couldn’t fix it. it frustrated her to no end, irrationally so. - she broke up with elias, took a year off, went to see her father and basically hid in his apartment for a solid six months until he dragged her out and asked her to please, please find something to do with her life that wouldn’t make her so miserable. his new wife was a tailor. - fashion design is not her passion, but it’s something she’s good at. coming back to lockwood was hard, but she’s focused on her studying, and in getting her degree as fast as she can so she can get out of here, somewhere with less ghosts.

#wshintro #drugs tw #kidnapping tw #disappearance tw #missing person tw

[jennacolemans]

The Man in the High Castle - Character Bios from Amazon’s X-ray feature - requested by anonymous

John Smith 

John Smith was born in Manhattan in 1917, the second son of a prosperous Wall Street Banker.  In many ways, John's early life looked picture perfect.  Any hint of superiority, however, was tempered by his father, who instilled a deep sense of civic duty and propriety in his sons.  The boys were four years apart in age.  John looked up to older brother Chris, a star athlete and an A-student, following in suit.  In 1927, when John was 11, Chris collapsed and was soon wheelchair bound.  In March, 1929, The Wall Street Crash struck, and overnight American banking institutions folded.  John's father was financially ruined and promptly took his own life.  And so, at 13 years old, John Smith swore to himself that he would never allow himself to break.  Even when his beloved brother passed away, two years later, John Smith pressed on.  Despite witnessing a New York City that had become decrepit and corrupt, and a failing America that had been gutted once more by the 1933 assassination of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, John was still determined and still a patriot.  He earned a degree at Princeton, he joined the New York Mayor's office, implementing programs to get America back to work, and, when war loomed, he signed up for officer training at West Point. where he proved a natural solder and tactician.  Graduating to a post within the US Signal Corps.  By 1942. John Smith was a 1st Lieutenant.  In 1943, he was promoted to Captain and re-deployed to the Pentagon to advise all branches of the military on intelligence gathering.  During this time, he met and married Helen McCrae, the beautiful, accomplished daughter of two Harvard academics.  Helen became pregnant with their first child in July, 1945.  Just a few months later, the American government fell to the New Reich.  Smith saw surrender as the right thing to do.  America had lost.  Nothing in the US arsenal could compete with Nazi nuclear power.  So, John Smith assimilated into the interim government, in sincere hope he could lessen the brutality of Nazi retaliation against rebel uprisings.  He could save American lives.  He could keep those he loved safe.  Nazism is survival.

Wyatt Price

Wyatt Price is the alias of an Irishman who fled Nazi Europe in 1944 to seek refuge in unconquered North America.  Though Ireland had remained neutral at the outset of The War, large numbers of Irishmen had been called to fight and more took to the front after nearly 400000 British soldiers were killed or otherwise defeated at the beachhead in Dunkirk, France in 1940.  In September of that year, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill was killed in a German air raid, and the war raged on.  Young Liam had been away from home for a year, fighting for the British Army.  In January, 1942, the British Government fell to the Reich.  England was occupied, but fierce resistance continued in Wales and Scotland for two more years.  In 1944, the remnants of the British Isles were finally conquered.  When Ireland capitulated to German rule, Irish men and women left the mainland In droves, pushing off the coasts by night, bound for the Americas.  Young Liam was among those who fled.  In America, Liam became Wyatt Price.  He had seen his fair share of horrors back in Europe. He had lost almost his entire family, and wanted to start anew.  But war was encroaching on North America as well, and in 1945 Germany took the continent, dropping the A-Bomb on the capital.  For two years, Wyatt fought in the Rebel American War.  By 1947, badly beaten, and starved of resources, the resistance was forced underground.  Wyatt's surviving network spread out.  Some military comrades stayed on the East Coast in the Greater Nazi Reich, while others dispersed to the Neutral Zone in the former American heartland, where 'freedom' became simply another word for ‘lawlessness’.  It was in this wild, neutral territory that Wyatt established himself.  He became known as a shrewd, resourceful fixer.  He was depended on by many, but trusted no one.  He never spoke of the past, he never told anyone his real name.  He shrouded himself in secrecy and misinformation.  He could smuggle anything, obtain official-looking documents; it was impossible to know whose side he was on.  And Wyatt liked it that way.  It was the best way to stay alive while doing so-called dirty work.  He had long abandoned the fight for liberty and justice in this world.  He resigned himself to mating for justice in the next one.

Juliana Crain

Juliana has a tendency for deep introspection and even depression - a result of her father's death, which cast a shadow over her life.  She was 10 and her sister Trudy nearly 3 when the A bomb fell on Washington, D.C.  Within days, the American government had surrendered.  Intense resistance followed and life became hard for white Californians.  The Japanese occupation was brutally enforced.  White people were denied ownership of major businesses.  Anyone not bowing to a Japanese citizen in the street was shot dead.  By the time Juliana completed high school, the San Francisco where she was born was unrecognizable.  But, despite the horrors, many things about Japanese culture fascinated Juliana - its orderliness, beauty, food, and subtle philosophy.  She persuaded a Japanese Dojo to take her on as an Aikido student and found she had a talent for the martial art and its focus on energy, poise, and balance.  Nevertheless, the atmosphere of oppression and obedience in the JPS was draining.  Over the years Juliana's depressions deepened until, one day, she stepped in front of a bus, determined to set herself free.  Death, however, was not In store for Juliana Crain.  Instead, she found herself injured and in the arms of a young passerby, Frank Fink.  Over the course of her recovery, the two established a strong bond that became a deep love.  But as she began to settle into a life with Frank, a restless searching began to rise once more within her.  On the night she witnessed her sister Trudy's execution at the hands of the Kempeitai, Juliana Crain stepped once more into the unknown, this time to answer the call of a transcendent force, somewhat akin to destiny. 

Takeshi Kido

Takeshi Kido was born in 1917 in the town of Koriyama, Japan.  The son of a tenant farmer, Kido was the fourth of eight children.  Theirs was a hard life with no prospects for improvement, of backbreaking work, and unpredictable, often swift, death.  In 1930, a 13-year-old Kido took the intelligence test given to 15-year-old prospective students for the Japanese Intelligence Service and scored off the charts.  In 1932, he ran away from home to join the Army and was recruited into the Kempeitai — the highly respected Japanese military police and intelligence force.  Kido excelled not just because of intellect but because of his strength of will and unyielding sense of patriotic duty.  His drive to succeed was unmatched.  Orders that might give others pause had no effect on the young officer.  Kid0 was serving in Manchuria when the Japanese army invades deeper into China in 1937.  The infamous Rape of Nanking occurred during this campaign, and Kido was confronted with a level of brutality he had never before imagined.  Such horrors left an indelible mark on him.  In the intervening years, Kido became a seasoned officer, serving honorably across many bloody campaigns.  He witnessed many horrors including the Rape of Nanking and, later, the carnage of the Solomon Islands offensives, which claimed the lives of many American and Japanese troops.  Having risen In the Japanese societal hierarchy, Kido took a wife in 1950.  He would father two children with his bride, but the family was divided by Kido's duty to the Empire.  Kido took up a post in the Japanese Pacific States of America in 1952.  In 1957, he was promoted to Chief Inspector of the Kempeitai, one of the most senior positions in the JPS, and by 1962, the year he shot and killed a young rebel by the name of Trudy Walker, Kido had spent five years crushing American resistance firmly under his boot and almost seventeen years away from mainland Japan, a place he would never again call home. 

Joe Blake

Joe believed he was born in Brooklyn in 1938, the single child of a single, German mother who claimed Joe's German father abandoned them before he was born.  When the A-bomb dropped on Washington. D.C. the Nazis assumed power, and, by 1950, the American Reich was firmly established.  But young Joe Blake was never totally certain who he was or what he wanted to be.  He still wanted to hide his mother's German-ness.  Most of all, he never felt worthy of an absent father's love.  This confusion and shame came out in a rebellious streak.  Joe stole a car at age 15 and, at the police station, he heard his mother tell a desk sergeant about what an important man his father was, back in Berlin.  Later that day, he received a visitor - a GNR colonel named John Smith, who offered him a ride home.  Joe's run In with Smith helped him turn a corner.  He got an apprenticeship in construction, did a year of mandatory military service and signed up to the Corps of Engineers.  He was a charming young than who kept intimacies at a distance.  He did honest work for an honest Mark.  His mother died of Septicemia when he was 21 years old, and Joe buried his grief along with her.  That muted sadness turned into a silent rage at their poverty, at their abandonment by his father, a man he longed to have known.  Two years later, John Smith - now Obergruppenführer - re-appeared In Joe's life.  Smith had a Job for him if he was willing to commit.  Joe didn't care about the Reich or duty to his country but Smith fascinated Joe and so did the prospect of finding out more about his elusive father.  Joe agreed to Smith's terms for he had nothing to lose.

Nicole Dörmer

Nicole was born to a pretty, young ward of the Lebensborn nursery where every aspect of her upbringing was designed to indoctrinate her and her Lebensborn fellows.  One of Nicole’s earliest memories was a visit by Himmler to the orphanage.  Nicole was only four and already a starling beauty.  She as chosen to hand Himmler a bouquet and sing a patriotic song.  Himmler raised her in his arms and kissed her cheeks, telling Nicole that he was her father.  Then, in the spring of 1944, Otto Dörmer, Nicole’s real, biological father arrived.  Young Nicole was taken to Dörmer’s grand family home in Potsdam, where she had the run of the mansion.  By 1944, the Lebensborn program was being phased out by the Reich; thusly, its products were becoming more and more valuable.  Private schools vied for the privilege of taking Nicole and her comrades.  With their privileged status, the Lebensborn children often found they could get away with behaviors or attitudes that would have placed other citizens in danger.  They illicitly collected Jazz, read banned books, and made mildly critical observations of about the state.  But despite this rebelliousness, they were proud believers in the clear superiority of the Nazi regime.  Nicole traveled the world before college.  She dined at all the fashionable restaurants and attended all the best parties, plays and film galas.  Fascinated by the media as an instrument of State Control, she enrolled at the Brandenburg Studios Propaganda Arts course and dropped out after four semesters, bored by the conventionalism.  She experimented with LSD and had liaisons with both men and women in an attempt to free herself from conventional norms.  In 1960, at age 21, Nicole was expected to find a husband, but she wanted a career, she wanted to be noticed, and she wanted to make a difference.  Later that year, she was arrested under suspicion of publishing a seditious pamphlet.  Upon release, she was cowed but far from broken.  It was a wake-up call that she was not immune from harm and that she shouldn't be foolishly outspoken.  But in other ways, it made her even more determined to challenge the received wisdom of the "fossils" in power.

Robert Childan

Robert Childan was born in San Francisco in 1919.  He was an only child and the apple of his mother's eye.  Robert's father was a stern and emotionally closed man who ran a kitchen and housewares business.  Robert was 10 when the Great Depression hit and his father's enterprise went bust.  The family moved into a small downtown San Francisco apartment and lived in the midst of Mrs. Childan's sprawling book collection.  After college, Robert got a junior curator position at the San Francisco Museum of Art and managed to avoid going to war after a mild cardiac arrhythmia was detected during his medical examination.  In 1942, Robert's father died, and, in 1945, his mother passed away too, just before the Germans dropped the A-bomb.  As Japan began its occupation of San Francisco, Robert realized he'd need to adapt quickly or he'd likely wind up dead or arrested.  His resourcefulness ultimately led him to the idea of starting a bookstore using his mother's collection as initial inventory.  The white-collar jobs Robert was suited for were not open to him in the San Francisco of the JPS, but Japanese hunger for Americana and curiosity about American literature was taking hold all over the city.  He knew he could exploit this.  Robert began to buy up old heirlooms and American antiques.  Very soon sales of American object's d'art outstripped book sales.  His livelihood depended upon a growing Japanese client base.  Over the years, he grew to admire the distinctive and aloof cultural superiority of his patrons and envied their grace and beauty.  He was becoming part of a new class of 'Nippophile' aesthetes, an inevitable side effect of Japan's cultural imperialism in California.  But, deep down, Robert resented those he seemed to adore.

Edward McCarthy

Edward was born in Oakland in 1934 to proud second-generation Irish Americans.  His father had grown up in the Bay area, inheriting a small metalworking factory from Ed's grandfather.  After his family moved into a modest townhouse near the factory, Ed met and quickly befriended his neighbor, Frank Frink.  The war with Japan began in April 1941 and many factory workers signed up, leaving wives and daughters to keep factory production lines moving.  Ed spent a lot of time there; he loved the smell, sound and vitality.  In July 1944, when Ed and Frank were 10 years old, the war with Japan arrived on America's doorstep.  Planes swooped down on San Francisco to unleash their bombs.  The family survived the raid, but later that year, the Japanese dropped Chlorine explosives on the city, leaving Ed poisoned and on the edge of dying.  Ed's mother perished in the attack.  At the hospital, Ed spent many hours alone, in pain and in fear.  With this isolation and suffering came an extraordinary strength of resilience to endure.  And though he did not recognize it as a boy, he felt a deep love towards Frank who came to visit him every day for months.  It was a bond of affection that would be a guiding light for the rest of his life.  By 1946, Ed would need this kinship for survival.  The Bomb had been dropped on Washington, the factory had been taken over by the Japanese, and Ed's father had been dragged into the factory courtyard, forced to his knees and shot in front of all the workers; Ed went to live with his grandparents.  Churches closed, St. Patrick's Day was banned, and San Francisco filled with waifs and strays fleeing the Nazis in the East and migrant workers from the Japanese Empire in Asia.  But Ed never hated the Japanese; he hated war and violence and brutality.  Ed's deepest reaction to loss was always to love.  This was his gift.

Frank Frink

Frank was born in 1934, his older sister had been born two years earlier.  After the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in April, 1941, Frank and his sister went to live with their grandmother.  They worked jobs after school, cooked, cleaned and helped to pay the bills with what meager funds they could scrape together.  Their father died on the front lines in 1943, fighting the Japanese, and five years later, their mother passed away too.  It was around this time that Frank's best friend's father was shot dead in the courtyard of his metalworking factory by Japanese occupiers who had come to take over.  Frank and his friend, Ed, were bonded in unspoken shared pain.  At age 16, Frank got a job at the factory where he helped craft handguns for the Japanese market.  Frank's first passion had always been art; drawing and painting had been a way for his mind to escape.  Unfortunately, there was little appreciation or legitimate outlet for Frank's gifts.  One morning, on the way to the factory, Frank was shocked to see a beautiful young woman purposely step into the street in front of an oncoming bus.  It was Juliana Crain.  The two moved in together shortly after Juliana got out of hospital and began a life together.  They were happy, for a time.  But, as much as Frank and Juliana loved each other, a series of tragedies and shocking experiences would set them on very different paths.  Frank supported Juliana as she committed herself to a purpose he couldn't fully understand, making the best of a bad situation, until finally, they parted.  The young artist also fell victim to the encroachment of racial purity laws on the JPS and Frank Frink, once passive and resigned, found himself consumed by hatred for the leader of the Kempeitai who cruelly and capriciously enforced the laws of the Reich.

Helen Smith

Helen was born in Boston in January 1922 to parents who were academics.  Helen was being raised to think for herself and challenge conventional wisdom.  After the Great Depression hit in 1929, she witnessed deep poverty and hunger in addition to the birth of a fierce political environment, which helped incite the assassination of President Roosevelt in 1933.  With Stalin's rise in the Soviet Union and Hitler's imposition of Fascism in Germany, it seemed to young Helen that America was itself on the brink of totalitarian take over.  And why not?  If it got America working again.  In 1940, Helen went to study at the prestigious NYU School of Commerce, Accounts and Finance and, in 1941, after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, she dropped out to volunteer as a secretary in the New York War Office.  Then, in June, 1943, Helen's life changed again.  A young Captain, named John Smith, came to City Hall to set up an intelligence bureau.  He and Helen became friends, then lovers.  A year later, they were married in a modest ceremony, just before John left to fight in the war raging in the Pacific.  Every day, Helen dreaded bad news from the front.  But in 1945, Helen discovered she was pregnant; this good news was accompanied by word that her husband was to take up a permanent post at the Pentagon.  The couple shipped their belongings to Washington, D.C. and drove down from New York together, stopping for the night, just outside of the city.  That night, the Nazis dropped the Heisenberg device on Washington; overnight, the world changed.  John Smith was a profoundly moral man who shared Helen's belief in a benevolent and supportive community.  It seemed the only way towards that future would be to fully capitulate to Reich, avoiding potential nuclear annihilation.  And so began Helen's embrace of the Nazi way of life.  She wanted a safe world in which to raise her son, and eventually her daughters.  Despite her parents' executions in 1949 at the hands of the GNR, she had made peace with the realities of Fascist America, the means and methods by which it was achieved, and was grateful for the benefits it brought her - if only for a time.

Nobusuke Tagomi

Tagomi was born in Tokyo in 1887, in the Meiji era - when Japan restored the Emperor and rapidly began to militarize and modernize.  Tagomi's family was Samurai caste from the ruling elite, with close ties to the royal family.  He and his younger brothers were raised from the cradle to understand that their life would be in service to the Japanese State.  At age 11, Tagomi was sent away to Navy Cadet School.  There he was schooled in English, French and German, served in the Japanese fleet for several years, and became a junior Naval Attaché.  He soon realized his aptitude for diplomacy and negotiation was better suited to work in the Trade department and in 1916, he left the Navy for a position at the Japanese Trade Mission.  Years later, in 1933, Tagomi met and wed the daughter of another elite Samurai family from Yokohama.  He was 38 years old at the time.  Their son, Yoshi, was born the following year, and, in many ways, this era was the happiest of Tagomi's life.  Professionally, he continued to rise in stature, but clouds were gathering.  Fascism in Germany, coupled with the emerging political influence of Major General Hideki Tojo, was an increasing threat.  In 1939, the war in Europe began, and in 1940, Japan allied with Hitler.  Tagomi became crucial to the war effort as Japan was challenged by lack of oil in its territories.  He went on a series of trade missions to California to negotiate oil imports and was successful in his negotiations.  The irony: US oil would fuel the conflicts that eventually defeated her.  Despite much success, death was slowly closing in on Tagomi's loved ones.  His brothers perished in the Pacific at the start of the war.  After the family moved to San Francisco in 1947, so Tagomi could help set up a colonial administration, Yoshi joined the Japanese Imperial Army and died serving in Manchuria in 1952.  Tagomi's wife returned to Tokyo, heartbroken, and succumbed to Pneumonia in 1953.  Tagomi went into himself, seeking solace in meditation.  There must be some purpose to this life.  Some reason to the world.  Could he find it, alone in San Francisco?

#the man in the high castle #tmithc #john smith #Helen Smith #Juliana Crain #joe blake #frank frink #wyatt price #inspector kido #nobusuke tagomi #nicole dörmer #ed mccarthy #robert childan

[jbaiata]

The making of “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

Stephen Hawking once famously observed that even those who believe everything in life is predestined look both ways before crossing the street.  And while I don’t believe the arc of our lives is entirely predetermined, I do think it is contingent on us to be open enough to recognize seemingly chance encounters for what they are: opportunities. Or, as Jackson Browne more eloquently puts it: “Pay attention to the open sky/you never know what will be coming down.”

In April of 2016 I was presented with an amazing opportunity: to give voice to a story that was just begging to be told.  Each year I volunteer for a fundraiser in Ridgewood, NJ - Saylestock, to benefit The Matt Sayles Foundation for Salivary Gland Cancer.  It’s an inspiring day - an all day music and arts festival that inevitably creates some magic moments for organizers and attendees alike.  Toward the end of the day I was approached by a town resident and asked about the origins of the fundraiser. I told her how Dave and Kathy Sayles had turned the most convulsive, painful event of their lives - the death of their young son to a rare cancer - into an urgent, vital cause.  That resident, Lisa Paterson, could unfortunately relate.  We fell into an hour long conversation, and Lisa bared her soul to someone who had been a complete stranger to her  moments before.  

Widowed on 9/11 when her husband Steven was among those murdered by the terrorists, Lisa was left to raise her twin four year-old’s, Lucy and Wyatt, alone. And to work through her own searing grief while trying to ensure her children did not become collateral damage to the worst terrorist attack in our country’s history. She endured a Sisyphean, near decade-long struggle to get Wyatt, who is developmentally disabled, to accept that his father was gone.  I was incredibly moved, and determined that the story needed to reach a much wider audience.

While driving down to Philadelphia the next morning, I was fixated on two things. The first was the conversation with Lisa, and replaying in my mind something she had recounted about Wyatt’s finally turning the corner.  She’d found a working farm the then teenaged Wyatt had really taken to, and when asked why he liked it so much, he’d replied “Daddy’s in the sky there.”  The second was how much I’d thoroughly enjoyed one band in particular - a self-described “funk, soul, jazz and rock fusion” outfit that I wanted to see again.  What the hell was their name? I had thrown one of the Saylestock handout brochures into my work bag, and quickly pulled it out. Ho-lee shit. “SkyDaddy.” The name of the freaking band was SkyDaddy!  

Photo: Lisa Paterson (second from left) poses with the band SkyDaddy and a friend. Credit: John Baiata

In that moment, chance encounter begat providence.  Lisa and I began a long series of spoken and written conversations that, half a year later, culminated in this story, and a second on “NBC Nightly News.”  Lisa was a completely open book, confiding her private pain and doubts, and granting me access to those who knew her best. She invited me out to Wyatt’s farm to spend the day there.  I interviewed  Wyatt’s longtime doctor. I interviewed Lisa’s therapist.  But it was a conversation with Lisa’s exceptional daughter, Lucy, that would eventually birth “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace.”

Lisa had shared with me the extraordinary, lifelong bond Lucy and Wyatt had developed, and even credited Wyatt with saving Lucy’s life as an infant. Lucy was failing to thrive, in trouble, and nothing the doctors had tried was working.  It was only after Wyatt was laid beside his sister in the NICU that Lucy began to respond.  Still, speaking at length with Lucy directly was revelatory.  I came away with a much clearer understanding of the “two unique souls united by birth” dynamic associated with twins in general, with an even deeper appreciation of the lifelong, unbreakable bond Lucy and Wyatt has forged - and with the inspiration for a song.

Photo: An infant and endangered Lucy Paterson . Credit: Paterson family. 

I’ve been writing song lyrics since I was a teenager. To see the vast majority of them is to understand just how difficult good songwriting is. In each case, I set out to write about a specific subject. I wrote the lyrics.  This will inevitably sound cliche` but I can think of no other way to describe it: for the first time, with “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace,” the lyrics wrote me.  They started coming to me in the days after that phone interview with Lucy, and kept up a steady patter in my brain until I finally reached for a notebook beside my bed, and began to capture the voices in my head. 

Wyatt and Lucy became Charlie and Grace.  I cribbed Charlie’s name from Charlie Greene, an outstanding young man who had also lost his father in the 9/11 attacks. I’d gotten the chance to work with Charlie in the summer of 2011, and had recently introduced him to Lucy.  I cribbed Grace’s name from John Newton, the poet and clergyman who wrote “Amazing Grace” a hundred and forty years ago.  In all, the lyrics contain references to fifteen other songs, and eight bible verses. (If you’d like to see how many you recognize or are just a glutton for punishment, they are all annotated at the end of this blog.)  Once finished, I had a thought I’d never conjured before about lyrics I’d written: “These don’t suck.”  

I shared the lyrics initially only with Lisa, a fellow music nut like me, and with my wife Anna.  Encouraged by their enthusiastic responses, I made my best decision yet, and shared them with my cousin Flynn - along with the story I’d written about Lisa, Lucy and Wyatt for context.   

Photo: Wyatt and Lucy Paterson today. Credit: Paterson family.

My wife Anna has long pondered how to leverage all the music trivia in my brain for financial gain, and I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about music in general.  But Flynn (That’s his full, legal name) is an actual musician, and someone whom I’ve always looked up to. Music has long been the common thread between us.  As teenagers I was enthralled listening to his takes on local rock heroes the Stray Cats, and many others.  As adults he would often invite me on Friday nights to come sing and play a little percussion with a small group of his musician friends. Nothing serious - “basement band” stuff.  But it meant a lot that a group of musicians whose talent level far exceeded my own would include me.  Since moving to southern Florida, Flynn has played extensively and cultivated an impressive network of musician friends in the area. He plays guitar beautifully, writes and records, and has notebooks filled with original lyrics of his own. And so when he got back to me, I was not quite prepared for his reaction.  

It was beyond encouraging.  He was effusive in his praise, and inspired by the story behind the lyrics. Flynn became the driving force behind the project. It took more than two years to bring to fruition, and in all that time his north star for it was clear-eyed. He wanted to give the lyrics a musical home to be proud of, for sure, but more than anything he was driven by his heart, and by doing something special for the Paterson family. Without his recruiting and wrangling of musical contributors, his booking of studio times and overseeing sessions, the steady stream of ideas and feedback he ran by me, this song would not exist.  I am grateful beyond words.

In February of 2018 Flynn and I went into Rain Cat Recordings in Jensen Beach, Florida to lay down the first and most important building block of the song, a gorgeous guitar track that he had written to accompany the lyrics. We had home field advantage. The wizards behind Rain Cat, Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar, were well acquainted with Flynn. Having been briefed on the project’s origins in advance, they were happy to get involved. 

Photo: Flynn working the guitar track at Rain Cat Recordings

Flynn had recorded a scratch vocal track that day as well, but it was a placeholder until we could identify a vocalist. He offered up a wide array of vocalists he knew and could approach - men and women.  I felt strongly that it should be a woman, as the chorus is sung from Grace’s first person point of view.  In the end we decided to try and recruit Summer Gill for the project. I confided in Flynn that I’d kept a running list in my head for years of my own “heavenly choir,” the voices I would choose to sing me home when my time came: Mavis Staples, Emmy Lou Harris, Aretha Franklin, Linda Ronstadt and Alicia Keys. Summer’s voice moved me in the same way those others did, wringing emotion from every verse. I had my doubts that we could get her onboard.  She was gigging constantly in support of her latest EP, working on songs for her next one, and our little song seemed a trifle by comparison.  And so we were both thrilled when Flynn reported back that she’d readily agreed to work with us - and all the more so upon hearing her evocative vocal. 

Photo: Summer Gill during one of our sessions at Rain Cat Recordings  

Along the way there were plenty of setbacks. While at Rain Cat with Summer during the first session to record the vocal track, Flynn got word that his Mom had passed.  Another session was scuttled last minute after Summer was involved in a car accident. Some musicians proved more difficult to schedule than others, and a good chunk of time was lost trying to schedule one in particular.   

That disappointment was more than made up for by the contributions of Adam Emanuel, a multi-talented musician who, in Flynn’s words, was “all in from the beginning.”  From Adam we got a vital piano track; one he tinkered with and improved over several sessions. Adam also gave life to Flynn’s vision for a “sweetener” track.  After considering a couple of other paths  - a pedal steel guitar? Nah. Flute? Nope - Adam came up with the synth strings that really enhanced the song’s emotional resonance.       

Photo: Adam Emanuel laying down the piano track at Rain Cat Recordings

And then there’s the guys behind Rain Cat, Jeff and Bryan.  It’s no given that artists who are really good at making music are experts at mixing it, and these guys are both. They also support their artists out in the community, and have developed a fiercely loyal client base because of it. It’s got to be all kinds of cool to be in the business of bringing others’ musical visions to life. Serious respect for these guys.  

Photo: Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar. Courtesy: Rain Cat Recordings 

Throughout the process, Flynn and I engaged in a grand jury level of secrecy, so as not to spoil the eventual reveal to Lisa and Wyatt. Lucy, however, was conscripted as a necessary co-conspirator.  Her first reaction to the lyrics she helped inspire was moving and heartfelt:

“I had to take a step back from the computer in order to compose myself... Thank you so very much for depicting my family’s story, specifically mine, in such a poetic and gorgeously bittersweet way.”

Her words also further incentivized us to finish. Lucy was responsible for gathering the bulk of the family photos that helped imbue the lyrics video with the personalized look her family’s remarkable story deserves.  Finally, a big shout out to my daughter Alexa for her time and help editing the video.    

The song is available on Apple Music, Google Play & Youtube Music, Amazon, Pandora, Tidal, Napster, iHeart Radio, etc  Any proceeds from the song are going to help support Wyatt’s farm. You can also make a direct donation. 

Thanks for reading this far, but I am reminded that where words fail, music speaks.  I hope “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace” speaks to you.  Click here for a listen. 

“The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

One mother, two cords, one shared space

Brother and sister, Charlie and Grace

Grace soon fell ill, her parents dismayed

But grew strong once Charlie’s sweet head was laid

Beside her own on the pillowcase  

The first time he started

amazing Grace

“The boy’s not right,” they said. “His mind’s addled.”

Grace took up armor, prepared for battle

Be not afraid, her flag unfurled

Then had a thought that could change the world

In Charlie, redemption she could see and taste

And he’d only begun  

amazing Grace

 (spoken) And she sang:

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The life in the day, the call in the breeze

Lucy in the sky, the magic in believe

Far too young when their daddy was taken

Charlie sat and wailed, “Why have you forsaken me?”

Grace took up his battle cry

While Charlie paid attention to the open sky

And blessings from space

And he carried on

amazing Grace

 Charlie grew up to work the land

Planting seed written in the palm of his hands  

And Charlie taught Grace to sow some seeds of her own

How some will grow, some you just call a loan

To tend to your gardens where the land is laid waste  

And he never failed at

amazing Grace

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The spirit in the sky, sorrow in the fountain

Smoke on the water, and fire on the mountain

Charlie grew frail, his head a crown of splendor

Grace held firm; a loss she thought might end her

But Charlie’s voice rose in song she could believe

How sweet the sound, her fears relieved

And even as the light fell from his face

He never once stopped

amazing Grace

He just might have saved her from going under

Charlie boy, the boy wonder

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.

Source material/references for “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”:

“Amazing Grace,” John Newton

“For a Dancer,” Jackson Browne

“Fountain of Sorrow,” Jackson Browne

“Call it a Loan,” Jackson Browne

“Grace,” U2

“Fire on the Mountain,” The Grateful Dead

“Spirit in the Sky,” Norman Greenbaum

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” The Beatles

“A Day in the Life,” The Beatles

“Call Me the Breeze,” Lynard Skynard

“Do You Believe in Magic?” The Lovin’ Spoonful

“A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young,” Eric Church

“Me and Charlie Talking,” Miranda Lambert

“Away in a Manger” Charles Gabriel

Psalm 40/U2’s “40” “He set my feet upon a rock, and held my footsteps firm.”

Isaiah 41:10 “Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will hold you with my righteous right hand.”

Matthew 27:46 “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Ephesians 6:13 “Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.”

Proverbs 16:31 Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness

Isaiah 49:16 ”See,  I have written your name in the palm of my hands.”

Psalm 34:8 “Taste and see the Lord is good, blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Ezekial 36:35 “They will say ‘This land that was laid waste has become like the garden of Eden; the cities that were lying in ruins, desolate and destroyed, are now fortified and inhabited.”

[deepdisireslonging]

Family Found Part 25: Trick or Treat (Evolution)

The first-ever women’s PPV, Evolution, is a hit. The amazing moral of Raw continues as everybody gets ready for Survivor Series. A warning comes from an old rival and it brings the rosters together for a unique match.

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, angst, cousin-fluff, some underhanded flirting

Word Count: 3890

Note: I am super excited for this chapter because it’s one of the major chunks I had in mind during the early stages of series development. Pretty much everything about Survivor Series is why I wrote this series. There have been some changes in that plan because of Roman’s announcement, and I will not be using Joe Anoa’I illness as a plot point. I will be mentioning it enough to move Dean forward, but it won’t be a focus. Thank you guys for sticking with me this far. Enjoy this next chapter!

Part 1: Welcome to the Team

Part 24: Shattered (TLC)

Evolution – October 28, 2018 - Uniondale, New York

The monumental night began with a title match. Natalya stood in one corner. In the other, Rhonda stood with the title swung over her shoulder.

When the bell rang, both women took one more second to observe her opponent before rushing in for the headlock. They had learned well from each other. Natalya was using some holds that were more likely to be seen in a UFC fight than a squared circle. And Rhonda was taking time to breathe. She would rush in, all speed and aggression, but when something didn’t work she was able to take a step back and clear her head.

They danced around one another, occasionally smiling. To some of the woman watching in the back, the match looked like a typical sparring match. That couldn’t last forever.

Natalya twisted Rhonda underneath her in a sharpshooter. How many times in sparring had Rhonda been able to crawl to the ropes? Or to turn opposite of Natalya’s force and make it out? It was beginning to frustrate Rhonda that she couldn’t do any of those things. She grit her teeth and was able to move a few inches closer to the bottom rope. With a few more she would be able to grab it. The bottom rope faded into the distance as Natalya dragged her back into the center of the ring and deepened the hold.

With a growl, Rhonda had to choose the stability of her body over her reign.

The women both crumpled to the canvas as the bell rang again, ending the match. They hugged one another, even as the ref struggled to bring Natalya to her feet. He eventually raised her hand in victory and was quickly replaced by Rhonda. No hard feelings; just a great match.

But Evolution had to continue.

***

Trish Stratus and Lita made their grand entrance to the loud welcome of the WWE universe. The crowd was full of women who had grown up watching their matches, and new fans young and old who were coming into the WWE at the best time. Every girl and woman sitting or standing around the arena was ready for the first of many PPVs showing off the best female talent. Lita eagerly welcomed several girls straining over the barricades with handshakes and a bright smile.

In the ring, things were a little grimmer. Alexa Bliss and Mickie James attacked early before the ref’s signal, rushing action from the legends. All four woman took turns having the upper hand, and wondering if they were going to make it out of the pin. Trish caught Alexa with a Stratusfaction, bringing their match to a close.

The night continued with the last round of the Mae Young Classic, the NXT Women’s championship between Kari Sane and Shayna Bazler, and then with the all-woman battle royal. More legends came out, and some hopeful future legends from NXT like Dakota Kai and Nikki Cross. The past met the future over and over again as participants went over the top rope. In the end, only one could stand by herself. And at this Evolution, it was Ember Moon.

***

Evolution ended with the match of the year. Becky Lynch and Charlotte Fair gave their all in the first ever Last Woman Standing match. Throughout the war, both women tried to use their submission moves on the other. During any other match, a submission would have been admitting that the other was the best wrestler. That she was right. But tonight, the last woman standing meant she had more drive, more power, and more right to the title than the one left in a heap.

Charlotte twisted in the air off a ring post. Becky was wobbling on her feet on the floor below. The last several counts had danced dangerously close to ten.

At the last second, Becky turned and flattened herself against the ring. Charlotte landed hard on the floor. She crawled around, gripping at Becky’s boot as her former friend rolled into the ring. Becky stood in the center, staring at her opponent as the ref counted.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

No matter the cost, Becky Lynch had retained her Smackdown Women’s Championship and proved herself to be the stronger woman. The one with the drive. That she was right.

***

***

Monday Night Raw – October 29, 2018

The Titantron lit up with your name and your colors. You entered with a smile and made your way to the ring, mentally giggling as heavy footsteps followed. Braun used his longer stride to get ahead of you so he could sit on the ropes and help you into the ring. He had made it clear that what happened last week with taking Dean and Roman’s titles with Bray Wyatt, now Dr. M, did not extend to you.

“Welcome to Monday Night Raw!” You smiled brightly. The welcome was never going to get old. “Evolution was a fantastic success. I got to meet some women last night that I never dreamed I would never see in person. And our ladies did an amazing job putting on the best show possible. I know it will not be the last of it’s kind.” You took a deep breath and looked back at Braun.

“But that was Sunday,” you continued. “Starting tonight, it is officially Survivor Series season. And that is why Braun is being my shadow for the evening. Because of… last year’s events leading up to Survivor Series, we thought it was best if I had a little extra security. I don’t want to end up in a match.”

“You have to say the thing.”

“What?”

Braun growled with a smirk. “You have to say the thing.”

No. His good-natured glare heavily suggested you should, but you tried to get out of it anyway. “I don’t want to. It’s too soon. I don’t want to be sick of it before the night’s out.”

He tilted his head. “But it’s Survivor Series Season.” When you grit your teeth, he chuckled. “You know we get a bonus every time we say it, right?”

Well in that case… “As you all know,” you said, smiling at him, “Survivor Series is the one time of year when Raw and Smackdown go head to head in competition.” You sighed. “This better be worth it.”

Braun just laughed and gave your back a hard pat, making you stumble forward.

“Our superstars will meet their superstars for each of the titles, and then also for the five on five tag team matches. We will start the process of selecting those team members tonight with two women’s matches and two men’s matches. And in new news this year, the champions of NXT and 205 Live will also go head to head. It might be a little rough for the NXT champion since War Games is the night before, but William Regal is sure his champion will triumph.”

The audience seemed to take the news well. You were able to let your shoulders relax.

“On that note, let’s get the show started with our first elimination member matches.”

On the way out, you quietly promised to split the phrase bonus with Braun since he was the one who told you.

***

Up first for the elimination match, Liv Morgan and Sasha Banks fought for their position. Ruby and Sarah Logan had accompanied their teammate into the arena, but she waved them backstage. They all knew Sasha hadn’t been having a good run. In Liv’s mind, tonight was going to be nothing different.

Unfortunately for her, it was.

Sasha was tired of sitting on the sidelines. Tired of missing opportunities. And tired of people assuming she was done. So after taking several minutes of Liv’s aggression, she flipped on her own. Harsh kicks and rapid-fire punches. The losses that had piled up were several too many. Headlocks and body slams. The way other wrestlers looked at her when she walked by was done. Jumps from the top ropes. With a battle-cry, Sasha grabbed Liv by her pink hair. She was thrown across the ring. Sasha caught her bouncing off the ropes and flipped back into a Bank Statement.

Liv submitted, giving the first spot on the women’s elimination team to Sasha.

***

Next was the first men’s spot match. Drew McIntyre proudly made it down to the ring and patiently waited for his opponent. His smug grin turned sour at the sound of Dolph’s record scratch. They didn’t waste any time. A position was next on Dolph’s list of goals, and it had a similar position for Drew. But instead of showing each other off, they did their best to crush one another. Drew tried several times for a Claymore. It was always evaded. Dolph attempted to use his small form and speed to tire out his former partner but was often brought to a halt with some submission hold.

Renee piped up in commentary, “I think this is more than about a spot on the Raw team. These men were practically attached at the hip to achieve a goal. Dolph wanted a match between them after obtaining a championship, but that never happened. This is the match we would have seen, for who can be the best man. But now it’s for who is right. Either Dolph in his ambitions, or Drew in his.”

Not even Corey could disagree with that.

Dolph jumped for a Zig-Zag, but Drew saw it coming and was able to flip him around. By the time Dolph had scrambled back to his feet, he was met with a Claymore. Drew stood over his unmoving body for a few seconds before moving in for the pin. He didn’t celebrate. Nor did he give Dolph’s glare a backward glance.

***

Bayley and Ruby were up next for the team spot. The Riott Squad leader did not make the same mistake as her teammate. Sarah Logan was ringside for the whole match. Any time the ref’s back was turned, she was on the apron looking to distract Bayley and give Ruby an upper hand.

When Sarah couldn’t interfere, Bayley was struggling to keep Ruby from keeping her shoulders terrifyingly close to the canvas. The hugger used her skills to flip their positions, and then her power to rain blows down onto her opponent. Ruby desperately blocked her face and kicked her feet, trying to get out. Finally, Ruby was able to catch Bayley in the ribs with a hit, sending her rolling across the ring.

She couldn’t waste the chance. She returned the favor, catching Bayley in her own trap, even when she grabbed hold of the bottom rope and the ref counted to four. Only at the last second did she let go.

Sarah moved to dip between the ropes while Ruby argued with the ref. She was quickly knocked to the floor, but Ruby was there to push the ref aside and roll Bayley up for the pin.

The Riott Squad made their quick exit, smirking all the way.

***

“Dean, wait up!” You hurried to catch up with your cousin’s receding form. “Where are you going? You’ve got a match later.”

He looked away at the ground. “I don’t think I need to be on the team,” he muttered.

“What?” You shook your head. “Why? You’re one of the best guys here and we need you. And I’m not saying that ‘cause-“

“I can’t Y/N. Find someone else for that match.” Dean shied away from your outstretched hand. “I’m the reason why… Roman and I lost the tag titles because of me. And then he… he left. I’m not… I can’t-“

“Dean,” you gently placed your hand on his shoulder, ready to snatch it back. When he leaned into the comforting touch, you took a deep breath. “He’s going to come back. In the meantime, I thought you’d like a fun fight. Your elimination spot match is with No Way Jose.” You bit your lip as he didn’t react. “Just make it to the ring. Then we’ll go from there, okay? No pressure. No promises. What happens is what happens… and you are still my favorite big cousin either way. Please?”

Dean winced a grin. “Sure, Ladybug. I’ll get there.” Then he calmly removed your hand from his shoulder and walked away.

***

As there were new tag team champions, Braun and Dr. M wanted to prove that they were the best team to face the Smackdown tag team. So you had set up two triple threat matches between the other Raw tag teams, the first one tonight. Dr. M and Braun watched from backstage, with you close by so Braun could keep a close eye on you.

The B-Team, the Authors of Pain, and the team of Heath Slater and Rhyno met in the ring. To keep things interesting, one member from each team would be allowed in the ring at a time instead of the usual two. This lead to some odd mini-alliances depending on who was the most dangerous wrestler in the ring at any given moment. Like Bo Dallas and Rezar against Rhyno. Or Curtis Axel and Heath against Akam, before they flipped to attack Curtis.

In the end, the general consensus that the Authors of Pain were the biggest threats was correct. Rezar pinned Bo while Akam held Rhyno in the corner behind the ref’s back. They posed at the top of the ramp with Drake Maverick, who spat warnings to the new champions that they wouldn’t champs for long.

***

When Dean walked into the arena, he had to laugh. No Raw before Halloween was complete without a Trick or Treat Street match. No disqualifications, and no promises. You were probably going to get flack for making an elimination spot match so frivolous, but Dean’s smile made it worth it. Besides, who didn’t want to see Jose conga-dancing with a skeleton?

There were, of course, candy corn kendo sticks, pumpkins, and bowls of candy that both men gleefully emptied into the crowd. When they got down to it, Dean was more than willing to participate. What he wasn’t expecting, was to laugh to much in a match for something so important.

The match could have gone either way. They were both having so much fun, neither was too insistent to pin the other but there was a goal to achieve. A Dirty Deeds into a mess of mutilated pumpkin parts did the trick.

As Dean pinned Jose, he nodded. You were right. He needed this match. And you had picked the perfect opponent that would have made Raw proud had he lost. They shook hands and shared a candy bar on their way out of the ring.

***

After the commercial break, Finn was standing in the ring with his Universal and a mic.

“Last year I was part of the elimination tag-team for Raw. This year I am battlin’ with my title against one of the best in the business.” He smiled. “My title. On Sunday Natalya won back her ability to say the same thing. My title. She’s goin’ to face Becky Lynch, a ‘nother incredible woman who has fought and clawed her way into bein’ able to do this.” Finn lifted the red and gold belt high above his head with his right hand. “There have always been incredible fights to that right. Always will be. But Survivor Series is different.”

He thumbed at his lip in thought. “Survivor Series is about seein’ who is the best between Raw and Smackdown. It’s about pride and cementin’ your stamp on wrestling deeper into the history of this ring. It’s more than just your legacy. It’s making it stand higher than another great name.”  

“I agree.” The Titantron flickered to life. AJ Styles was sitting in front of a blue screen with his WWE Heavyweight Championship over his shoulder. “Thank you for that compliment. I concur that my legacy stands the highest in the WWE. I’ve been carrying this title for a while, and I have been carrying Smackdown for even longer.” He paused. “What is your legacy, Finn? An injury and a title you can’t defend without help from… a darker version of yourself?”

Finn smiled and sucked on his teeth. “Not like you can defend your title without almost losin’ it. Now that I’ve got it back, it hasn’t been at risk of changin’ hands. Unlike...” he pointed at the screen, where AJ curtly shot him a look.

“Are we going to do this like last time?”

Finn shook his head. “Nah. This time around I’m more int’rested in havin’ a man versus man fight.”

“I might make you regret that decision.”

“If you say so, AJ. But no one has made me regret being tha man I am. This man is the one who bested the demon in the first place. Took his crown. Shaped ‘im into what I needed. Finn Balor as a man is just as great a wrestler as tha Demon King. But I guess you’ll be findin’ that out in a few weeks.”

“I’ll be seeing you before Survivor Series,” AJ said with a smirk.

“Is t’at so? Lookin’ for a practice-match, phenomenal one?”

AJ shook his head. “Not quite. Trick or treat.” Then the screen went black.

Finn scoffed, unbothered.

***

Elias strummed. “Tonight, I take back what was stolen from me.” He thought for a moment, absently playing a tune that dropped and attacked the air around him. “Baron Corbin is going to walk with Elias and find that he is not gifted enough to stand to me. The Intercontinental Championship is going to be on my waist at Survivor Series, and I will defeat Shinsuke Nakamura. And then they will both know what all of you people here know and that is that WWE stands for?”He hooted as the audience gave the correct response. There would have been more, but Baron wasn’t the most patient person on the roster.

The Intercontinental Champion strutted out onto the stage, making sure that the gold on his title caught the light just right. He begrudgingly handed it to the ref and smugly bounced in his corner while Elias glared at him from the other side.

They fought hard. It was looking like Elias had the upper hand when there was a banshee-like screech. Baron retreated to the side of the ring furthest from the stage, while Elias stumbled for a closer look.

“Paige?” he read on the screen.

Baron took the moment to roll Elias up, latching his fingers into his belt loops for that extra leverage. Elias chased him out of the ring, where Baron was hastily handed the title.

You passed him on your way down the ramp. Braun was a few steps behind and stayed on the floor while you got in the ring for a better look around the arena. He joined you as Paige came in through the side stage entrance and the Smackdown roster filed down the stairs. She gave you a sweet smile before climbing through the ropes.

“Paige.”

“Y/N.”

“I would say it’s good to see you, but… I have to wonder what you’re doing here.”

She laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. Tis the season. Just thought we ought to come for a little visit-“

“And repeat what happens every year, rough up my roster? Come on Paige, you’re smarter than that.”

“I don’t really think you’re in a position to say so.”

Now it was your turn to smile. “Oh?” Making a big show of it, you raised your fist in the air and snapped. Raw wrestlers streamed in from all sides. Down the ramp. From the crowd, blocking Smackdown’s exit. They were backed up against the ring as they were surrounded. “What was that, sweetie?”

Paige cocked her head, acknowledging the strategic move.

You interrupted before she could say anything. “How about something new this year. We’ve got dozens of talented wrestlers, and we’re going to see the best spectacle of that in a few weeks. But tonight, I think we should give the Universe a match that won’t be happening at Survivor Series. Something unique.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“Champion versus champion. Someone you think embodies the ‘land of opportunity’ spirit of Smackdown. And I’ll pick mine. Well… actually, mine is already picked.”

“You planned this?”

A giggle escaped. “It all depended on your actions, Paige. A game of chess.

She shook her head. “It’s not much of a game if your obvious answer is already in the ring.” She nodded in Braun’s general direction.

The two of you shared a look. “That’s not a guarantee. I have a whole roster full of champions. Can you say the same?”

“You know I can.”

“Then do it. We’re in showbiz. Let’s put on a show.”

Paige looked past you, then reestablished eye contact with you. “Fine. I choose Sheamus.” The ring bounced as he entered the ring. You remained still, trying to keep your emotions under control. “I hope that’s okay.”

Sheamus stood between you. “I’ll make the match quick. Perhaps you should pick one of your B-list wrestlers? It would be a shame to embarrass one of your A-listers this close to Survivor Series.”

You chuffed. “This is Monday Night Raw. There is no such thing as a B-list wrestler here. But I thought you would have known that, having been moved to Smackdown this year.”

On the floor, Dean and Seth shared a smile watching you sass back and forth with Sheamus. Seth was enjoying every second of it. Dean was too, but he was also making a plan of attack if Sheamus tried anything.

Turning to your circle, you motioned for some to leave. The ones that did left up the ramp and brought chairs out onto the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen,” you said, “if you could please. We don’t want any shenanigans back stage, so you guys are going to get a front-and-center seat.” The rest of the roster shooed the blue-brand wrestlers to their seats. “Paige, you and I will be joining the commentary table. And now for our champion. As you said, they are already in the ring.”

Braun took several large steps forward, coming nose to nose with Sheamus. Then he stepped aside to reveal Ember Moon. She straightened her fire braids and turned towards her corner. Braun sat on the rope so you and Paige could exit, then he followed.

The night ended peacefully, all things considered. During the match, the rosters stayed where they were supposed to, and you and Paige got along well.

In the ring, Sheamus was pleasantly surprised at how well Ember was able to keep him on his toes. He may have towered over by what seemed like two feet, but she was nimble. And her height made it difficult to properly perform a Brogue kick. Her favorite way to avoid it was to shift just barely to one side, then send him a snide look. But he had an advantage too. When she had him staggering, Ember jumped for a Full Eclipse. Sheamus caught her.

Instead of throwing her backward for the advantage, he gently returned her to her feet. Then he held out his hand. “I stand corrected about the prowess of the Raw brand. Pax?”

Ember took his hand. “For now.”

  Part 26: Missing

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[opheliagardinier]

a bird in edgewise

Sorry, this is late! There was some drama with this. I’d sworn I had written this as we RPed but then I went back to the doc later and it had vanished. Turns out I’d accidentally started two docs with the RP and mislabeled the writing one. After a heart attack and a few days of panic, I finally found it again thank goodness.

Thank you to Bri @benjaminschreave for the RP!

word count: 3886

The sun was warm against my skin as I laid on the bench with my eyes closed and legs dangling over the edge. Even through my eyelids, I could see the light coming from up above. Normally I would have turned away but it gave me something to focus on.

When I was little my mother used to tell me never to stare straight at the sun, because if I did I might go blind. Little did I know that the majority of my life I was blind in a way. I never saw the struggle or the worry.

Around me, birds chirped away and bees buzzed by. I’d always appreciated gardens- especially the one my grandmother had back in Sonage- but somehow I felt like I’d never understood what a luxury that was.

“Lia?”

Ben.

My eyes shot open and I looked up to see Ben resting his arms on the back of the bench. He stared down at me with his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Jam?” I whispered.

“What are you doing out here?”

Avoiding Wyatt... and you...

“I’m just enjoying the sun.” I sighed, brushing some stray hair out of my face.

He asked if he could sit, using his chin to gesture to the bench. I let out a sigh as I sat up and scooted over.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to him. The last few days had been spent with me worried sick over exactly this moment.

Ben seemed to hesitate for a moment before sitting down beside me on the bench.

“I... can leave if you’re more comfortable.” He glanced over at me, with his face still contorted with worry.

“You don’t have to.” I shook my head, looking over at him, then took a deep breath.

It wasn’t that I wanted him to go, I just didn’t know what to say to him. Or if Wyatt had tipped him off in any way. There was so much uncertainty.

As his lips pressed together I would have given anything to know what he was thinking. Because even if his brother hadn’t said anything to him he would have hopefully noticed my recent absence.

“Okay.” He said, looking directly at me, then paused. “Would it be insensitive of me to say you don't look alright?”

I let out a soft chuckle chalked full of the exhaustion I felt, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed him. All I wanted was one moment before I went and ruined everything. I wanted one last good thing. One moment where I maybe didn’t feel like absolute shit.

Ben gently put a hand on my arm and pulled away.

He knows.

“Lia.”

Without saying anything I scooted to the other side of the bench. Leaning forward I began to study the grass intently.

“Wyatt told you, didn’t he?” I murmured.

Ben sighed, running a hand over the top of his hair. He then nodded once.

I felt like I could cry. Wyatt had taken away an opportunity from me.

I wanted to be the one to tell you- and on my terms.

“He mentioned a thought.” Ben scooted closer and put his hand over mine. “But I think it would be best if I heard it from you.”

I took a deep breath as I tried to collect my thoughts. Wyatt hadn’t been right, but a crime had still been committed. And “justice” could still easily be doled out if Ben so wished.

He isn’t like that.

I wanted to believe myself and I knew I should… but still, that lingering fear was always there weighing on me.

“Ben,” I sighed, looking over at him. “I’ve wanted to tell you, I just never had the words and wanted to do it when I was ready.”

I realised that was the first time I hadn’t called him by the nickname I’d given him. Somehow that right felt like it had been stripped away from me.

“I understand. It doesn't have to be now if you're not ready.”

No, I need to do this now. I didn’t feel like I had an option. If Wyatt had told him anything I had to clear the whole mess up- not matter if I wasn’t ready or if I didn’t want to.

“I want to tell you.” I half lied as I curled my fingers around his. “Just know that it doesn’t change anything I’ve said to you or done. But you’re allowed to be angry or upset.”

I’d been ready the last time I’d told someone and it hadn’t turned out well. If things were going to get ugly then I’d rather it happen sooner rather than later. I didn’t want history to repeat itself.

“I can’t see myself getting like that, but alright.” Ben nodded.

I took another deep breath. I never thought the last guy would react so poorly, yet he had. So I was prepared for every possible outcome.

“Can I know what Wyatt told you?” I looked over at him.

“He mentioned things with your last boyfriend didn't end too well...and how some of the other things you mentioned made it seem like he hurt you, but-...but also knows something you did that would get you in trouble.”

I nodded as he spoke about Alex, acknowledging that he was right about that, but then shook my head at the last bit.

For the most part, I’d done very little in my life that could get me into trouble. By the time I was old enough to really cause problems, my mother had effectively put a stop to all of it.

“He’s wrong.” I took a deep breath. “About the baby I mean.”

“He said he could be wrong, but with the things he explained... it made sense even to me. He just wanted me to know in case it was true.”

I still wasn’t sure what all Wyatt had told his brother. Given that I hadn’t given him very much information I knew he must have based his assumptions off of what Lou had said to him.

“There was a baby, but I didn’t have it.”

Oh shit… that just makes it sound like...

Ben expectantly blinked at me.

“I’m the baby.” I pointed at myself and gave him a weak smile.

Ben seemed to struggle to understand what I’d meant. But that was my fault. I should have just yelled “Surprise, I’m an Eight!” or a Seven or whatever was going on with the caste system these days.

“I don’t understand.” He told me. “This has to do with your parents?”

Technically yes.

I nodded and pulled my hand back. Then without saying anything I stood and took a few steps away from the bench. I was preparing for the angry words and the insults.

This is where Alex lost it.

“So you were the baby born out of wedlock, and your boyfriend left you when he found out?”

I looked back over my shoulder at him, before facing the gardens again.

I wished Alex had left me. I wish he’d just wordlessly disappeared. But he didn’t instead choosing to say every awful thing he could think of, including his threats to turn me in.

When I was ready I took another deep breath and went back to the bench and stood in front of Ben.

“He broke off our engagement and threatened to turn me and my mother in.”

Ben looked up at me, narrowing his eyes. He seemed angry in a way, but not at me. Somehow there was still a softness to him and I relaxed a little.

“And that’s why you had to disappear for a few months?”

I knelt down in from of him.

“No.” I shook my head and put my hands on his knees. “After everything happened I went through a depressive episode and I needed to get help.”

Depression had been something I’d struggled with on and off most of my life, with episodes occurring more frequently in recent years. But as I’d gotten older I’d learned that asking for help wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Still- I struggled to openly speak about it at times.

“I... you don’t have to be embarrassed about that. If you are.” Ben put his hands over mine. “Or feel like you can’t talk about it.”

His words made my heart race a little. It felt so good to have someone say to me. Somehow it was exactly what I needed to hear. But that had always amazed me about Ben. He could never say the wrong thing.

“I’m not embarrassed,” I assured him, shaking my head. “But it’s something you should know about. Because I don’t want to hide things from you.”

“I don’t want to hide things from one another either.” Ben smiled a bit.

“I hope you know this doesn’t mean I’m going to show you me beak.” I chuckled softly, standing up again, though Ben still kept a hold of one of my hands.

“Wouldn’t dream of asking.” Ben laughed softly as he stood up and pulled me into a hug.

I leaned against him and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. For some reason, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been hugged that way. The last real hug I’d gotten had been from my mother at my send-off when she’d desperately clung to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Nothing to thank me for.” He softly placed a kiss on the top of my head.

I smiled up at him. He was wrong, but just then I’d let him be right.

“My dearest Jam would you perhaps give this technical Eight a kiss?” I batted my eyelashes at him. “She’s been having a hard time recently and it might make her feel better.”

Ben let out a laugh.

“I think something can be arranged.”

He leaned down and kissed me, with one hand moving up to cup the side of my face. I closed my eyes and ran my hand along his back. Ben’s thumb brushed along my cheek as he continued kissing me. While I tried to stand up higher on my tiptoes his other hand went to my waist to pull me closer. For a moment I paused but then reached up to place on the back of his head, feeling his soft hair as it brushed against my fingertips.

“Feeling better?” He asked when he pulled back, smiling down at me.

I nodded. Nothing like a good old kiss to make you forget some of the troubles of the world.

“Definitely.” I grinned. “It would have been a real shame if you couldn’t have helped me out because the last I checked the kitchen was all out of kisses.”

“Would be interesting if we started supplying kisses.” He mused.

I suddenly burst out laughing. It was enough to catch even myself off guard. For the past few days, I’d been so caught up in my anxiety that it was like I’d forgotten how to breathe. But this was real and felt good.

I leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, then pulled back.

“I know they say kiss the chef- but I’d rather kiss the prince any day.”

“And I might just learn to like birds because of you,” Ben told me, tilting my head up so he could tap my nose.

I savoured the touch for a moment. It was amazing to me how something so simple and familiar could comfort me so much. I’d learned to hide things away and hide within the safety of home, but this tiny risky thing suddenly didn’t seem so scary.

“What else can I get you to like because of me?” I flashed him a smile, then tapped his nose back.

“I don’t know. Lettuce is out of the question.” Ben tugged at my hand, pulling him back down onto the bench.

He drew me close to him and wrapped his arms around my shoulder. I leaned back against him, reaching one of my hands up to rest on his arm.

“I’m going to start sneaking lettuce into your food,” I told him.

“There’s nothing sneaky about lettuce. I’d find it and throw it all away.” He looked down at me.

“The lettuce doesn’t have to be sneaky because I’m sneaky enough.” I shrugged. “Usually…”

“Usually?” Ben questioned.

I sighed. Maybe Wyatt hadn’t told his brother everything. But in honour of our new promise, to tell the truth, I decided I may as well just let it out.

“Your brother had to help me into bed.”

In retrospect that could have been taken the wrong way- but Wyatt had in fact been in my bedroom and he’d had to help me like a was a toddler.

You were drinking tequila like it was water for Christ’s sake.

“Mm, he mentioned you got a little tipsy that night,” Ben smirked down at me.

“Tipsy?” I chuckled. “Jam, I forgot my shoes and had to walk across town barefoot.”

“Wyatt let you walk all the way back to the palace without shoes?” Ben raised an eyebrow.

Sweetheart, I got drunk in a club with your brother.

“Out of everything I like how that’s your biggest problem with what happened.”

“Well, as much as he complains I know Wyatt wouldn’t have done anything less than take care of you,” Ben told me. “Excluding any shoe mishaps.”

Wyatt had just been lucky I hadn’t set my mind on disappearing. If I had wanted to I could have easily slipped away into the crowd. Because losing things and disappearing was what I did best when I was drunk.

“It must be nice getting to trust someone that much.”

“Comes with being brothers, I guess. Though I’d trust my sisters the same way.”

“I wouldn’t know.” I glanced back at him. “So I have to take your word for it.”

“You have Kit though right? The best friend no one can replace.” Ben gave me a small smile.

If Kit were like a brother that was in love with me then I suppose Ben would have been right.

“Unfortunately I think I'll be seeing a lot less of him.” I sighed. “And anyway, it's different than having a sibling I think.”

“Mmhmm.” His brows knitted together. “Because of the Selection?”

Given our new honesty policy, I figured I may as well tell him. It wasn’t that I didn’t like telling people the truth- but that I was selective over who got told what. Ben, however- was probably the one person who should know.

“He’s getting married,” I explained, looking out at the garden. “But because of the whole honesty thing, I should also tell you that a few months ago he told me he loves me.”

“And now he’s engaged?”

He looked down at me in surprise- a sentiment which I shared. I’d never liked Ivy but I’d also never been too worried about her and Kit. Somehow she didn’t seem like she’d ever have the nerve to follow through, but then again they were both from well known acting families and to the outside world it seemed like a match made in heaven. But to me, it was a match made in a 78th-floor office of a PR firm in downtown Angeles.

“Yep.” I nodded. “I give it a year- two tops.”

“If that.” Ben scoffed, before musing. “Is it safe for me to assume you didn’t feel the same way?”

Safe? I wished there was a word that meant safer than- because the word didn’t feel strong enough.

“I’m deeply in love with Kit and have been dreaming of a June wedding since I met him.”

I rolled my eyes. Ick. I’d be lying if some part of me hadn’t wondered about the two of us somewhere in our teen years but it was fleeting and stupid.

“I expect an invitation. June 15th is a perfect day I’m told.”

“Invitation? You’re the maid of honour so you better be there.”

“Then I should tell you now purple really isn’t my colour.” Ben gave me a serious look.

Ben warned me that purple wasn’t his colour as a serious expression played across his face.

“Prince or not you’re wearing the same dress as the rest of the bridesmaids.” I held my finger up at him.

“Good luck with that.” He smirked.

I looked up at him with a sweet smile. Ben had yet to see me in action but I made a killing in debates. I think it came from all those years of lying about who’d eaten the cookie dough out of the fridge or broken the lamp.

“No one says no to the bride.”

“And yet here we are.” Ben raised his eye as if to challenge me.

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t used to being told what to do?” I tilted my head.

Okay, it’s obvious- you’re a prince.

“On the contrary. I just like the debate.” He told me.

Did he now? Well, he was on if that’s what he wanted. He wouldn’t win, but I’d certainly enjoy watching him try.

“Well there's no debate here- you're wearing purple, my dearest Jam.”

I could hear a hint of a smile as he sighed.

“Only because you’re the bride.”

“You spoil me, you know that?” I lightly patted one of his arms that was wrapped around me.

With a chuckle, he told me he enjoyed it. Having perked up quite a bit I sarcastically asked him if he enjoyed spoiling me as much as he enjoyed me. I gave him a hopeful smile.

“Meh.” He flashed me a smile.

I leaned my head back against his shoulder.

“Wow, I've earned one whole "meh" from a prince of Illéa. I'll make sure to list that under special skills when I have to go for job interviews.”

I wasn’t sure it had occurred to Ben as it had to me, but after all, this was over I was in for a big adjustment. As much as I loved spending time with him I had to consider the very real and likely possibility that we wouldn’t end up together. And that meant that as a newly minted Three I’d soon be searching for jobs.

“If you’re lucky you might earn a “meh” with a shrug.” Ben joked.

“Oh? How would I earn one of those? You know- if I theoretically wanted one.” I asked, playing along.

Ben thought for a moment before telling me that it all depended on what I had to offer. “Sarcasm, humour, kisses, chocolate kisses, a rant on the socioeconomic structure of our country, tequila- the list goes on and on.”

The last bit wasn’t the least bit serious. My tequila days were over- lesson learned.

“Minus the tequila, I’ll take one of each.”

I turned my hand to look at him. He gave me one of his signature crooked smiles.

“One of each is a tall order, Jam. Where do I start?”

“Humor seems like a safe first step.”

“Mountains aren't just funny- they're hill areas.”

Ben paused for a second then let out a chuckle.

“Alright, that was decent. 6 out of 10.”

“I always aim for at least decent.” I rolled my eyes. “So what's next on the agenda? I want to earn that meh with a shrug”

We continued on to sarcasm, with me teasing him that I was never sarcastic and couldn’t manage in the most emotionless tone I could muster. Ben gave me his props in an amused tone. “Next?”

“Are the chocolate kisses actual Hershey kisses?”

“Yeah,” I told him. “Unless you think I'm planning on eating a bunch of chocolate then kissing you- which I wasn't.”

His lips pursed a little, giving me the urge to laugh.

I liked these moments with Ben. These moments of nonsense and banter were what I’d started to look forward to each day. And as bad as it sounded it was one of the first things I worried about losing after everything with Wyatt.

“Mildly disappointed.“ He gave me a small smile. “We can save that for later. The rant too. Which leaves…”

Oh, you tricky boy.

I was really looking forward to that rant.” I let out a sigh and pulled his arms off of me as I went to stand up. “I don't think anything else was left.”

I smirked back at him. Ben stood, crossing his arms as he raised a brow at me. He argued that I was mistaken. I took another step back, telling him that I didn’t think I was.

“Yes, you are.” He stepped closer, catching my hand.

“I thought we were leaving everything until later.” I looked down at his hand.

“Nope. Starts with a k ends with an s.”

“Kittens?” My face lit up at the thought.

I knew what he was getting at, but if he really wanted it he was going to have to work for it. I’d given him plenty of easy passes so far.

Noted, but no.” He squeezed my hand. “I thought you wanted my shrug and a meh.”

“Maybe I do and maybe I don't.” I teased, pulling my hand back with a smile.

I took a few more steps away from him. Ben narrowed his eyes, following me, with a playful expression.

“Lia.”

“Jam.”

I turned away and began to skip off. I heard Ben sigh before he started walking after me. It didn’t take much for him to catch up.

“What if I asked nicely?”

“What if I said no nicely?” I faced him again and flashed him a smile.

“I let out a cry of surprise as Ben took one big step towards me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Then you’ve forced my hand, Bec.” He grinned down at me.

“Nope.” I laughed, shaking my head.

I pursed my lips just as he leaned down to give me a quick peck.

“Yes.”

“That's not fair,” I argued.

I took a quick second to try and memorise the moment. I wasn’t sure how things would end between the two of us but regardless this was one of those things I just wanted to remember. I wanted to be able to recall every detail.

“Sure it is. I’m just jogging your memory.” Ben countered.

“Well, I don't think I remember so…” I shrugged. “Such a shame.”

“Then maybe I should try again.”

Without waiting for him I stood up onto my tiptoes and put a hand on the back of his neck. I pulled him down to kiss him. Ben smiled against my lips as his arms ever so slightly tightened around my waist.

I chuckled at the way he’d so easily gone with everything as I gently stroked the back of his neck. Ben slowly moved one of his hands up so that he could run it through my hair, while I pulled him closer. He drew me up a bit higher, causing me to make a noise of surprise.

Ben kept his eyes shut for a moment when he eventually pulled back. He gave me a small smile as I rested my head against his chest for a moment

“Meh.” I lifted my head to look up at him.

#ophelia gardinier #challenge four #selectionoc #benjamin schreave #ben #jam