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pickledpascal · 1 year

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Sweet Nothing

Chapter Eight: His Faith in Love Will Last Through Wind, Rain, and Snow

Summary: Will and Blake finally share a more intimate moment.

Warnings: 18+ themes, p in v smut (but not the way you think), praise kink.

Word Count: 5.4k

Sweet Nothing Masterlist

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Hannibal Lecter was sentenced to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally insane one week after Will Graham was released from house arrest. It was a relief for mostly everyone, Jack Crawford might be able to get his profiler back and Blake Adler could go out in public with her partner again. Hannibal, though, possibly only felt disappointment that he was swindled right under his nose. As Blake said, he didn't deny any of the murders and seemed proud that he was able to get away with it for so long. It was like a perverted thing that only Hannibal knew for the longest time.

Not so much anymore. Freddie Lounds made sure that most people, at least, in the US knew what he did.

It was difficult, in some sense, for Will to feel completely content even with Hannibal behind bars. He didn't think he could unless the man was dead or close enough to it. But Blake helped, she helped a lot actually. They would go on dates, usually at either one of their homes because going out to dinner sounded taxing to both of them. The dates would consist of take out or–if it was Blake–a home cooked meal and then they would talk, most times ending with the pair on the couch leaning into each other.

This went on for a little while until Blake showed up at Will's door one day. She walked inside, already having a key and patted each of Will's dogs on their head. "I missed you too, Winston." Blake smiled, scratching behind his ear.

"Sometimes I think they like you more than me." Will hummed out from his position on his desk. The man was in the middle of making another fishing lure when Blake came in. Will stood from his chair and leaned up on his toes to kiss Blake's cheek. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Blake smiled down at Will, kissing his forehead in return. They then sat across from each other by the fireplace. "I was…. Planning on going to Chicago–my home–next week." She said carefully, fiddling with the gloves that still sat on her hands. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me? Most of my family doesn't live there anymore so there's no obligation for you to do anything and, I mean, I certainly don't expect–"

The doctor was cut off when Will decided to sit on her lap, straddling her legs as he pressed a kiss against her lips. "I'd love to." He whispered softly.

"O-Oh…." Blake outright blushed, probably the first time Will had ever seen her like this. "Good cause I already booked the tickets." She swallowed thickly, embarrassed by her reaction. And this position…. It was much different than their usual ones.

Blake had to resist the urge to both look at the way Will's thighs settled on top of her lap but also feel them. They were unreasonably thick and the urge to mark them as hers may have come up a few times in her mind. This also may have been the only time Will has been taller than Blake. He was looking down at her with darkened eyes, although she was sure he knew his place.

After a little while, Blake got her bearings and gently set her hands on Will's thighs. The action made his lips open slightly, something Blake might even describe as deliciously sinful. She had an inkling to where this night was going and she couldn't find it in herself to care. It would be fun. And it was something they've both been waiting for.

"Do you think it's unwise now?" Blake asked, tilting her head slightly to the side as she looked up into Will's eyes. They were still slightly avoiding hers until they captured Blake's green eyes in a stare.

Will pursed his lips before he let out a breath. "Yes…. But I don't care anymore." He whispered as he ran a hand up to Blake's jaw, pressing a kiss to her pressure point. "I need you, Blake. More than I have ever needed someone before." He hummed against her skin, using his tongue to lick lightly underneath her jaw.

"That would make you desperate, Will." Blake said, a teasing smirk on her lips as she cradled the back of Will's head. "We don't want that." She hummed disapprovingly.

As Will sat back on Blake's lap, he cocked his head as he looked at her. "Want to do anything about it?" He asked. He looked almost innocent. Blake would have believed him if she didn't know him so well.

"Yes. I do." Blake smirked, eyes darkening as she slid her hands up Will's waist to lift him off of her so she could stand fully. "I plan to do a lot of things about it." She let a finger slide down the side of his face before she grabbed Will's jaw with her hand. She exuded dominance and loved how quickly Will retreated into submission. "Unfortunately, a bed would be much more suited for this than the loveseat that you were so eager to have me on." Blake's eyes held Will in his place as she lifted him into her arms to gently place him on his bed.

Will had never been particularly desperate or needy for sexual proclivities. But, since meeting Blake Adler, he could understand how someone might become obsessed with it. Feeling as if they need it. Will didn't mind their more soft moments but he felt as if this was years in the making. Finally, it was happening. And he's never felt more alive.

As Blake climbed up his body, Will breathed in heavily. His heart was pounding, awaiting the main event with avid eagerness. The doctor began to kiss at Will's jaw, pinning his arms on either side of him while he let out a low noise from his lips. "Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know." Blake whispered, a hand sliding over Will's chest to begin to unbutton his shirt. He helped Blake by sitting up slightly as she took his shirt off, leaving his torso bare. His skin was mostly blemish free, save for a few scars here and there, plus the two identical ones on opposite sides underneath his chest.

"Please…." Will let out a light, breathy whimper. He was so close to what he wanted. "You're wearing…. Too much." His neck visibly tensed, refraining from trying to take off Blake's clothes. All in due time.

Blake shushed Will, running a free hand through his hair before she let go. "Then take it off." She whispered as she took his hands and set them at the edge of the sweater she wore. "I'm not stopping you, sweetheart."

Will swallowed thickly as he lifted his hands through Blake's top, finally feeling the bare skin there. It was hot and soft and he could feel how defined the muscle was on her stomach. She was strong, something she didn't boast about much but she used multiple times to pick him up. He lifted the sweater over Blake's head to reveal a black bra that she wore underneath it. The exposed skin caused a light blush to spread on Will's chest. Her body was beautiful, with freckles and beauty marks gracing different parts of her shoulders, arms, stomach, and even chest. They possibly even went places he didn't see yet.

Eagerly, he then went to unbutton Blake's pants and she made no move to stop him. Though Will couldn't really take her pants off since she was still straddling his lap but being able to see a glance underneath them excited him. "Good boy." Blake hummed, meeting Will's fingers and intertwining them with her own before she pushed his hands away. This action caused Will to whine though he knew why Blake did it. It was hard, being patient.

As Blake lifted her legs she slid down her pants and began to unbutton and pull off Will's as well. Her eyes slightly widened as she uncovered Will's thighs. She lowered herself in between them and started to place gentle kisses, starting on his right thigh. Every so often, in between breaths, Will would let out a light moan as Blake began to suck bruises and place kisses on his thighs. She was worshiping them and it felt amazing.

"Blake…." Will breathed, a hand digging into her hair as she grazed her teeth against his skin. He could tell there was an urge to bite him, to mark him as hers. "I-I need…."

Blake stopped, placing her hands on Will's legs as she lifted her head. "Need what, sweetheart?" She teased. "Use your words."

Will tilted his head away for a moment, the fact that this was happening started to slowly sink in. "I need you. Need to have you." He whispered out, eyebrows furrowed in desperation.

Blake let out a small huff of a laugh and leaned up to press a kiss onto Will's lips. "You will." She hummed, rubbing at his leg for a moment. "Boxers, can they come off?" It was the first question she asked that night because it was something Blake wanted to be sure of.

"Yes." Will was slightly shaking but Blake soothed him by taking one of his hands and squeezing lightly. This certainly wasn't his first time but it felt…. Important.

"It's okay." Blake hummed into Will's skin, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "You trust me, that's all I need." She caressed his shoulder lightly, admiring the lean muscle.

Will took a deep breath, willing his body to calm. He wasn't afraid or anything of the sort, he was nervous. The type of nervousness that made him shake with excitement. Blake gently hooked her fingers on the hem of Will's boxers, subtly admiring the 'V' that disappeared underneath them, and pushed them down his legs.

He was bare. It felt…. Weird being fully exposed to the air around him but the warmth Blake provided was more than welcome. "I-" Will let out a light whine that was swallowed by Blake's kiss.

"I'm right there with you, Will." She confessed softly, carefully caressing his hip bone. Blake then pursed her lips, "Want to make us even, sweetheart?" She drew in a breath as she leaned back to sit on Will's lap. His thighs provided a plush place to sit. And, well, her weight in his lap made Will think things. Things that could make him get thrown out of a church. Not that he went anyway.

Will carefully nodded with hooded eyes as he sat up to have a better position to get Blake naked as well. Although he was impatient, he wanted to make this moment last. He started to place light, loving kisses on the freckles on Blake's shoulder as he inched a finger underneath one of her bra straps. Blake let out a satisfied sigh as Will nipped softly at her neck and pushed his hands underneath the clasp of her bra. Still pressing kisses and small bites on her skin, Will unclasped the black fabric constricting Blake's chest and helped her push it off.

As soon as it was off, Will dipped his head to lick a stripe in between Blake's breasts which caused her to gasp in surprise. "Down boy." She huffed out, a teasing tone in her voice.

Will let out a sharp breath in frustration, hooking his thumbs inside Blake's underwear. "You asked me to make it even." He hummed as Blake lifted her hips to help him take them off. "This is me making it even."

Blake let out a scoff as she settled back into Will's lap. The skin on skin contact made them both feel on fire. It was very different from the content warmth they'd share when simply spooning each other in bed. This was akin to a raging fire in the driest of forests. Softly, Blake pushed Will down onto the bed so he was laying down. As he did, Will licked his lips at the sight of the dick standing up against Blake's stomach.

She smirked down at him, tipping his head up so their eyes could meet. "My eyes are up here, sweetheart." Blake then tapped his chin as she tsked in disappointment.

Will's adams apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly at the sight of Blake fully naked and in his lap. Similarly to Blake, Will wasn't religious but he thanked whatever God was out there for blessing him with this sight. "I want…." Blake cocked a teasing eyebrow at him before he continued. "I want to ride you." Will admitted.

"Your wish is my command." Blake hummed before exchanging positions with Will, pulling him into her own lap. He certainly fit perfectly. She ran her hand up Will's back, feeling the slight indent of his spinal cord as she pressed a kiss onto his jaw. Her other hand was used to slightly lift Will's hips, "Up." She said. And he complied.

Blake adjusted her hips slightly as she positioned herself underneath Will. "Go down slowly." She ordered, voice soft but commanding. She didn't want Will to hurt himself just because he was eager.

Taking a breath, he did as told and slowly lowered himself onto Blake's cock. Will let out a shaky gasp as she was fully seated inside him. She was quite big and filled him in ways he wasn't sure existed before. It was like a sexual awakening for Will and he was happy it was with someone as caring as Blake. She sat still for a while, admiring his hips with her hands as she let Will adjust to her size. Blake wasn't…. Oblivious to the fact of how big she was but she never particularly bragged about it either–unless she was joking with friends.

"That's it." Blake whispered softly, nipping at Will's neck to somewhat distract him. "Be a good boy." She cupped Will's jaw, tilting his head so he could look at her. "Come on, sweetheart. Take what you want."

Letting out a weak whimper, Will nodded. He was the one setting the pace. He set his hands on Blake's shoulders and began to slowly lift himself up and down. The feeling of it was delicious, like biting into a freshly picked strawberry with juice exploding into his mouth and down his chin. Finally. They got to this point. His lips were slightly parted, leaving enough room for small, weak noises to come out of them while Blake looked up at him with darkened eyes. She was watching him like a hawk, letting out a few of her own noises which just spurred Will on.

He started to build the pace, wanting more pleasure and faster. Will started to dig his fingers into Blake's shoulders as he rolled his hips, causing her to let out a low moan, "Fuck…." It wasn't exactly the first time Will heard her curse–and it certainly wouldn't be the last–but it was like music to his ears.

"Say–Say that again." Will panted, feeling his orgasm start to build. Fuck the moment wanting to last, he wanted to feel just how good Blake would fuck him. And if it made him feel good enough for him to cum quickly then maybe he picked the perfect partner. "Please, say it again." He pleaded softly. His brain felt as if it was on autopilot, he couldn't stop voicing anything that came to his head.

Blake began thrusting gently to meet Will's hips, leaning her head backwards slightly to rest against the headboard. "Fuck!" She cursed louder this time as the pace became faster and as a red flush started to spread across her chest. It accentuated the freckles on her skin and, if Will had the time and wasn't so focused on taking his own pleasure, he would have stopped to admire them. "That's a good boy." Blake praised, voice rougher from their activities.

She had a hand on Will's thigh, squeezing a little as the stimulation heightened, while the other was on his back to keep him balanced and upright. Blake watched Will intently, a light pant beginning to build in the back of her throat. Words died on her tongue by the sight of him. Will's head was tipped back, mouth slightly ajar with moans and pants and just about any sound signaling his pleasure escaping him. This went on, Blake admiring Will as an almost silent observer while he chased his own pleasure; consequently, driving Blake to her own pleasure. It was a beautiful thing, akin to finding happiness in seeing another smile or feeling excited for someone else. A butterfly effect. One that only affected two people.

Or so they thought….

"I-I think I'm close." Will panted out, his fingers curling as they held onto Blake's shoulders. He wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling besides the overwhelming pleasure but something was happening inside him. Something he didn't want to stop. "Ah!" He let out a sharp moan at a particularly hard thrust. "Blake…." He whimpered afterwards, resting his forehead against hers.

Blake lifted the hand on Will's back to gently cradle the back of his neck. "Will…." She hummed back, letting out a pant. "Cum for me, Will." She whispered into his lips, "Don't you want to be a good boy?"

Will nodded, letting out an, "Mhm!" before he felt something inside him snap causing his legs to shake and a long, drawn out moan to be forced from his lips. His hips stilled, while Blake still thrusted into him. The continued stimulation after such an intense orgasm caused him to let out higher moans and whine, bruises starting to form on Blake's shoulders by how tightly he gripped them. "P-Please, Blake…." He begged, voice breathy and strained.

"I'm right there with you…." Blake breathed in sharply, thighs tensing slightly as she felt her orgasm overtake her. She let out a weak moan as she dropped her head into Will's neck, letting it rest there. "Ah…. Fuck." She panted, wrapping both arms around his waist.

As they both caught their breath, Blake pulled away from Will and leaned back against the wall behind her. Although dark, they were perched right next to the very clear windows. Anyone who decided to have a midnight stroll or talk with Will could have seen them. Not that Blake really minded that fact.

"You're, um, beautiful." Will voiced, eyes scrambling to look at anything but Blake's breasts or face in fear of embarrassment. Sure, they just had sex and Blake was still nestled inside him but that was different than the aftermath.

Blake let out a light hum in response, using her hand to tilt Will's head back towards her. "Thank you." She said sincerely. "It's probably best we get you cleaned up, hm?" Will blinked, eyes meeting Blake's again before he nodded shyly.

Will knew what aftercare was, of course he did. But he didn't know what it felt like. No one ever performed it on him before. But he's also never had a partner as caring and loving as Blake. He had a feeling he'd be introduced to a lot of firsts while with her. It was nice to feel…. Important. Being taken care of was not something he had ever liked before, mainly because they would treat him as if he couldn't do anything. Blake didn't. She knew what he was capable of, she worked with him on an almost daily basis, so she let Will take the reins every once in a while if he felt inclined to.

After they got cleaned and redressed, Will wrapped his arms around Blake as they got in bed. Strangely, Blake loved to be the little spoon. She was now clad in the shirt she took off of Will and her panties while Will simply wore his boxers. They were still plenty messy, sex hair that would be worsened while in bed, a shirt that certainly needed to be ironed, and the light layer of sweat that covered both their skin. But all of that was a labor of love.

—------

A few days before Will and Blake were set to leave for Chicago, Blake decided to give Hannibal Lecter a visit. As far as Blake knew, Hannibal was relatively calm for someone admitted into a mental institution for possibly the rest of his life. Walking towards him felt distinctly different than walking towards Will while he was in his cell. Then, there was a feeling of dread. That if she saw it for herself, then it’d be true. With Hannibal, it was triumphant. He’d framed Will and finally got what he deserved. Not only that, but he’d been feeding his dinner guests other humans without them knowing. It was a dirty secret only he knew. He was truly a sadist in that way.

Not so much anymore.

“Doctor Adler.” Hannibal greeted, hands behind his back. He would have looked polite if not for his predatory stare and the white jumpsuit he wore.

Blake, in her biggest ‘fuck you’ effort, decided to redye the ends of her hair and wear a black sweater paired with a short plaid skirt paired with a coat and fishnets. She also wore boots that happened to make her taller than Hannibal. It surely wasn’t the most normal thing to wear into a hospital for the criminally insane. “Doctor Lecter.” She hummed out, a smug inflection in her lips.

“Indulging me?” Hannibal asked, walking a bit closer to the glass that separated them. “Or simply showing off?” He alluded to her clothes as well as the faint smell of sex still emulating from Blake through the glass.

“A bit of both.” Blake admitted, shoulders shrugging as she pushed her hands into her coat pockets. "I thought you'd like to see who exposed you for what you are." She narrowed her eyes at Hannibal. "Especially considering that you wanted to either be in a relationship with me or possibly eat me."

Hannibal's lips quirked up into a smirk, "Who said I couldn't do both?" He looked the woman in front of him up and down. “You do look quite delicious.” He admitted, mirroring the shrug Blake did earlier. “But unfortunately, it seems Will has beat me to it.”

“He’s great in bed.” Blake bragged slightly, “Something you’ll never experience for the rest of your miserable life in here.” She said, anger coming through in her tone. Knowing that Hannibal had definitively ruined Will’s life and having that proof empowered her but it also angered her. And that anger had to go somewhere or else she’d just explode one day. Oh, the wonders of having a therapist can do.

Hannibal noticed this, his eyes twitching slightly as he did. “You came here for catharsis. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to offer.” He cocked his head at Blake, watching her intently.

“Didn’t think you would. My doctor thought it would help.” Blake admitted, eyes traveling down to her shoes. “I hope to never see you again in my lifetime. So this is a goodbye. One that is quite happy to leave or even never think about you or what you’ve done.” She smiled as if she was triumphant over him. And she was.

—-------

Being in a big city like Chicago was a lot more fun than Will expected it to be although he was unsure why. Blake grew up near there, of course she’d know the best place to get deep dish pizza or that there’s a candy shop down a certain street or that there’s a four story Starbucks on Michigan Avenue. Honestly, who needs that many floors just to get a coffee? They went to those places in about the span of a day. Blake’s eyes were full of wonder and nostalgia while Will simply watched. It was endearing to see her in her natural habitat and recount memories to him with such excitement that it made his heart ache for her.

“Oh, we have to go to this Christmas market!” Blake exclaimed suddenly that night as they entered their hotel room. “It’s so beautiful, it’s like a block away from the tree in the park, and if we order hot chocolate they give us a free mug!” She said excitedly, sitting down on their bed to shove her boots off her feet.

Will let out a laugh at Blake’s child-like excitement as took off his scarf and set it on the desk in the corner of their hotel room. “Alright. Tomorrow is another day after all.” He shrugged as he sat next to Blake, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

Although it was freezing outside, Will had never felt so warm in his life. Blake filled his entire being with it. It wasn’t trying to escape anymore after he’d caught it. The warmth stayed, melting the chill around his bones and the ice from his lungs. He could breathe again. The ice wasn’t lodged in his throat anymore, now turned into water. But he also learned the importance of that cold from Blake. It could return, perhaps not as strong because the power of the sun was much stronger than the power of a blizzard.

As they walked to the market the next day, the pair stopped to look at the metallic bean seated off to the side of the park. Both looked confusingly at it while tourists took pictures and got up close to see their reflections in it.

“I honestly never knew why this existed, I just sort of accepted it.” Blake hummed, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I do know that the artist is an asshole though.” She chuckled softly, stealing a glance at Will. He looked even more confused than she did. Of course the Bean is one of the most notable landmarks in Chicago besides perhaps the Sears Tower and Navy Pier.

Will hummed in acknowledgment that he heard her. “Why are people flicking it?” He asked. He’d noticed a lot of people did when they got up close enough, but they were mostly younger than him. About Blake’s age, it seemed.

“Ummm.” Blake’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth to suppress a laugh. Will turned his head to look at her, not sure exactly why she was laughing. “It’s, ah, it’s a euphemism. When you ‘flick the bean’ it’s like you’re flicking the clit.” She explained, a light laugh escaping her afterwards.

Will’s face reddened, his eyes flicking down to his feet. This is what he got for having a younger partner. Though he never minded when Blake had to explain certain jokes to him, this was just the first time he’d seen it in action. Will cleared his throat after a moment, “Shouldn’t we get going? It’s starting to snow.”

Blake chuckled softly, nodding as she pressed a kiss to Will’s temple and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. The walk from the Bean to the market wasn’t too far so Will didn’t have too much time to wallow. As it came into view, he realized it was just as Blake described. Each stand was like a little wooden hut, decorated for the holidays with garland and glittering holly that spanned the entire length of the square. The stand they were searching for, though, was right in front with a huge line while those who already paid were making their way out with their mugs. Will noticed there was an array of different kinds; a boot, a snowman, and a penguin.

“I want the boot since it’s the most normal.” Blake admitted while in line. She breathed in the cool air and felt the bite of it in her lungs. It felt good to her, like the air was real in a city as artificial as the one they were standing in.

Will smiled lightly, leaning into Blake’s arm. “I guess that means I’m hoping for the snowman.” As they got up to the stand to order, Will paid before Blake even got the chance to get her wallet out which made her frown. “Have to repay you for our first date.” He shrugged as they took their mugs. Like they hoped, Blake got the boot and Will got the snowman. He was secretly pleased with himself, holding his mug with both hands as they found a bench to sit on.

Blake took a sip from her mug, whipped cream making its way onto her nose as she smiled happily. A wave of nostalgia was washing through her, memories of her older brothers taking her to the market simply for the hot cocoa and her mom going Christmas shopping with her. She was glad she was able to share this with Will, hoping to make new memories that would last. Will cupped Blake’s cheek and kissed her nose to lick the cream off her nose, causing both of them to laugh. His heart was much lighter than before Blake came into his life and he was sincerely thankful for her, showing him that a life could be lived after what he’s seen and experienced.

“How come you’ve never…. Taken me to see your family? You talk about them a lot.” Will asked suddenly, watching a father and mother guide their child into the market. Perhaps Blake was embarrassed? That couldn’t be. He had a feeling Blake bragged about him a lot to others. Or at least liked to talk about him.

Blake pursed her lips as she took a sip of her hot cocoa. “Never really had the chance to. Most of my close family moved down south.” She admitted, letting out a sigh. “It’s because house prices are cheaper but…. I quite like the feel of a big city.” Blake’s lips formed into a smile as her eyes gazed at the skyline.

“Hmm.” Will hummed, scratching the back of his neck for a moment. Something inside him made him want to ask. Family seemed important to Blake with the amount of memories she recounted during their time together in the city but Will still wasn’t the best at asking for what he wanted. “I’ve heard you’re leaving for Thanksgiving from Jack…. Would you like to bring me?” He breathed out, biting the inside of his cheek in case Blake said no.

Perhaps Hannibal was right. Will Graham needed Blake Adler. Will could survive without her, he had for the thirty-eight years he lived before her. But it was the desire to be with her that made him feel as if he couldn’t.

Blake tilted her head slightly as her gaze shifted to Will, a light smile on her lips. “Would you like to? My family certainly isn’t normal and they’ll ask you a lot of questions. I haven’t…. Brought anyone home before so I honestly didn’t think to ask.” She admitted, leaning into Will’s shoulder.

Will averted his gaze from Blake for a moment as he nodded, not trusting his own voice. It might be nice to be in the presence of a family. It was something he hadn’t had for quite a while at that point. He was an only child and his parents were either dead or simply gone. Maybe he could get that light, fleeting feeling of normal. He knew it wouldn’t last but it would be nice to feel for once. Sure, Blake helped him towards that normality but they both knew that it would never quite get there. There was nothing that could erase the amount of gore and blood both of them had seen or the stench of death that lingered in their noses after working a long day.

“Alright then. Prepare to meet Richard and Joann Adler.” Blake chuckled, eyes showing a bit of apprehension. Her family was…. A lot to handle. So much so that she was the only out of her siblings to actually have a dorm when she decided to go to college. “God, and my brothers.” She covered her mouth, shivering a little in disgust.

Will laughed, shaking his head. He was sure her feelings were derived from love. When Blake recounted each memory of being in Chicago, a nostalgic and excited glaze covered her eyes. It was beautiful to see.

#hugh dancy x oc #hugh dancy #oc #will graham x blake adler #will graham is soft #will graham x oc #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannibal is a cannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal #mads mikkelsen #light smut #?

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synmorite · 3 years

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Worth it

Summary: Claire has tried to be patient while waiting for the boys, but her patience has run out. Pairing: Sam x Dean, Dean x Claire x Sam Word Count: 3180 Rating: 18+ Warnings: 18+ only, Wincest, language, nudity, teasing, drinking, smut, light bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), edging, anal sex, unprotected p in v, rough sex, threesome Created for: @j3bingo - Threesome square A/N: This is the final part of my ‘Brat’ series. It’s been fun! Also this is my first bingo fic! Woo!

~~~

Claire liked to think she was patient. She knew she was lying to herself, but it was a nice thought. Ever since the boys agreed to let her watch them together, she stuck with them. Normally, she would be on her way after a good fuck until the next time. But she just couldn’t wait. She needed to see them together. It was all she could think about. The boys fucking knew it too. There were more lingering touches between them. More groping. More kissing. More flirting. More of everything. Well, everything except what she wanted most. To see them fuck each other. She stayed with them, hunt after hunt after hunt. She practically lived with them in the bunker when not hunting. And just to make matters worse, neither one of the boys would fuck her either. She was feeling extra horny and tried with Sam first. Maybe if she had tried with Dean first, she might’ve gotten somewhere. But Sam was sitting in the library doing research while Dean was out at a bar. She walked into the library just wearing panties and a t-shirt. Hopping up onto the table, she sat cross-legged. Sam glanced up at her and laughed. Claire pouted at him. “Nice try, Claire. Subtlety is not your strong suit.” She gave up quickly on Sam, and tried Dean next. She waited till he was in the shower and then walked in and stripped before joining him. He smirked at her and grabbed the soap. He ran it down her skin, but stopped right before he reached the juncture of her thighs. Tracing his finger back and forth over her wet skin, Dean leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Sammy told me what you’ve up to, little girl. He thinks you should wait.” Dean pulled his hand away and put the soap back as Claire whined at him. “But I don’t want to, Dean.” “You remember that having a lack of patience is how you got into this mess? You didn’t wait with those vamps, so you had to be punished. Still haven’t learned your lesson then, have you?” Dean stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel as he left Claire under the running water. ~

It was two months. She knew that there was no way they hadn’t had sex in that time which just made her so much madder that they were clearly just playing with her. If she wasn’t getting to hunt so much, she would have just left them. Maybe she would have. Ok, probably not. But that was also two months that she hadn’t gotten any sex, so she was a bit on the irritable side. Ok fine, a lot on the irritable side. So when the boys dragged her out on a ghoul hunt, she was more than a little pissy with them. She tossed her bag in the back of the Impala and put her earphones in as soon as she settled in the seat. She could see both Sam and Dean trying to talk to her during the drive, but she continued to give them the silent treatment until they gave up. It was already 9pm when they finally pulled into the motel. As soon as Dean unlocked the door to their room for the next few days, she shoved past him ignoring his indignant “Hey!”, dropped her bag on one of the beds, and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind herself. She stared into the mirror for a moment before getting angry with herself for hanging around. They probably changed their minds about letting her watch and just didn’t know how to tell her. Sighing heavily, she decided that she didn’t want to wait anymore. She wanted to get fucked and she wanted to get fucked tonight. She opened the bathroom door and was surprised to see the motel room empty. She saw the boys’ bags on the other bed before spotting the note left on the little table in the kitchenette. Picking up the note, all it said was that they went for food and would be back soon. She crumpled the note and threw it in the trash before opening her bag and pulling out a short denim skirt and a low cut black top. She changed and then pulled her boots and leather jacket back on. She made sure that she had her phone and wallet with her fake ID before calling an Uber to take her to a bar just outside of this little podunk town. There was a bar across the street from the motel, but she didn’t want any of the hicks that might be there. The bar outside of town seemed to be more popular with people her age. Once the uber driver dropped her off, she went in and settled down in a seat at the bar. She ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer before gazing through the crowd to find someone acceptable to take her home for the night. Her hungry gaze landed on a guy with stubble and shaggy hair. He had a smirk to die for and seemed to be a little older than most of the modest crowd. He was sitting at the other end of the bar also surveying the crowd. Claire smirked to herself and threw back the shot before picking her beer up and heading over to him. He spotted her and smiled brightly. She sat down on the stool next to him and leaned forward so her breasts were pushed up. The guy’s gaze immediately flicked downward to look before dragging back up to her face. “See something you like?” She asked, taking a sip of her beer. “Oh yeah. Definitely. I was beginning to lose hope at finding anything interesting here. How about you? Anything you like?” His voice was just deep enough for her liking. “Yea, I think so.” She let her gaze drag up and down him appreciatively. “M’name’s Graham.” “Katie.” Claire said, giving the name on her ID. In less than an hour, Claire and Graham were kissing hungrily in a back hallway of the bar. She pulled away for air and he immediately started licking and kissing at her throat. He wasn’t bad, but he definitely wasn’t good. Claire just hoped the sex would be better than the kissing. “C’mon, let’s get out of here and go somewhere more private.” She said as she pulled his head away from her neck. “Yeah, okay.” Graham said breathlessly. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him back towards the front door of the bar. As soon as the door shut behind them, her heart dropped at the sight in front of her in the parking lot. Sam and Dean were leaning against Baby and staring at Claire. “Oh, shit.” She said. Dean looked positively murderous while Sam looked calm and collected, but she could feel the waves of anger

flowing off of him. She looked back at Graham, trying to decide if it was even worth it at this point. Sighing heavily, she said to him, “Look, you might want to go find some other chick in the bar, cause this isn’t gonna happen.” “Wait, what? I just spent the last hour with you! You owe me!” Unfortunately for him, Graham said that loud enough for the boys to hear and Dean had the guy by the throat before he could take another breath. “The fuck you just say to her?” He growled. “Who the fuck are you?!?! Lemme go!” Graham tried to pull Dean’s fingers off his throat. “Dean, c’mon, he’s not worth it.” Claire urged. Dean growled again before throwing Graham away from him. “Damn right he’s not.” Dean stared hard at him. “Get the fuck home. Now.” Graham scrambled away to a beat up old car before peeling off out of the parking lot. Once he was out of sight, Dean turned his glare to Claire and she flinched. “And you get the fuck into the car now. We’re going back to the motel.” She heard the door of the Impala open and saw that Sam opened the back door for her. She slinked off into the backseat. It was dead silent on the ride back to the motel. Once they made it back, Sam levelled Claire with a look and said, “Go to bed, Claire.” She opened her mouth to argue about how she was 18 and they couldn’t tell her what to do, but seeing the stony looks on both of their faces, she decided she wouldn’t test them. She stripped out of her clothes and pulled on a large T-shirt to sleep in before crawling under the covers and shutting her eyes. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

Something was wrong. There were strange noises in the dark and Claire couldn’t move right. She heard a grunt and her eyes shot open. The room was dim with only a table lamp on, but her eyes immediately focused on the two bodies in the bed next to hers. Two naked bodies. Sam was leaning over Dean, kissing him deeply. He was also slowly jerking Dean’s cock in his hand. Dean let out another grunt as Sam twisted his wrist on the upstroke. Claire immediately felt wetness pool between her thighs at the noise. She tugged on her wrists and realized that they were tied to the headboard. She also realized that she was completely naked. When she looked back at the boys, Sam was smirking at her. Dean’s head was thrown back as he gasped with Sam’s hand movements. “Looks like someone finally woke up for the show.” Sam kept his eyes on Claire as he leaned back down and took one of Dean’s nipples between his teeth. Dean grunted and thrust up into Sam’s hand. Claire went to squeeze her thighs together and realized that her ankles were tied to the opposite end corners of the bed so that she couldn’t do anything to create any friction for herself. “Yeah, I cannot believe you slept through Dean tying you down and stripping you.” “Please, Sam.” “Oh no, baby girl. I told you that you’d be tied down. And you haven’t been very patient over the last couple of months, have you? Not to mention the stunt you pulled tonight. So absolutely no touching, babygirl. Not if you want either one of us to play with you.” Claire whined out, “Okay, Sam,” knowing that there were no other options. Any options she wanted anyway. Dean’s eyes turned to Claire and she held his gaze as Sam lowered down and took Dean’s length in his mouth. Dean’s mouth fell open as a hand weaved into Sam’s chestnut hair and held on. Sam licked and sucked until Dean was bucking up softly into Sam’s mouth. His eyes still trained on Claire, Dean asked, “Can I taste her, Sammy? Please?” Sam pulled off of Dean with a small pop. “Okay, Dean. Because you have been such a good boy for me, I’ll let you taste her. But she’s not allowed to cum. I’ll let her get my dick nice and wet for you while you play with her.” Dean nodded eagerly before scrambling over to Claire. She was already spread wide so he settled between her thighs and licked a long stripe up her center. She gasped at the sudden touch. Dean let out a happy sigh as he continued to lick and suck at her. Sam climbed over her so his knees were above her shoulder. “Suck.” He commanded. She lifted her head and eagerly took Sam’s length into her mouth, swirling her tongue around his tip before pushing forward to take as much of him as she could. The angle was awkward, but Sam understood and didn’t try to control her actions. He let her go at her own pace. She could feel a climax approaching and hummed around Sam, but Dean slowed his ministrations, letting her orgasm melt away. Once she was no longer on the edge, he picked back up until she was close again before slowing down and letting it fade. She groaned in dissatisfaction as Dean edged her a third time. Sam grinned down at her. “What the matter, baby girl? Want something?” She pulled off of him and pleaded, “Please, Sam. Just let me cum. Please.” Sam leaned down and stroked a thumb over her lower lip. “Hmm. How about I let you have one orgasm tonight. Just one. Do you want it now, or would you rather have a cock in you?” She threw her head back in frustration. “Careful now, baby girl. If you’re a brat, you’ll get nothing.” Immediately, Claire calmed herself. “I’m sorry. I’ll wait until you decide I can have a cock.” Dean was still licking at the slick pouring from Claire’s hole when she felt him press a finger into her. She gasped and jerked up, and Sam turned to look at his brother. “Seems I have two brats tonight. I told you that you could taste, Dean. I didn’t say you could finger her.” “But Sammy, she’s so soft, and wet, and warm.” “And wouldn’t you rather feel that around your cock instead of your finger? If you’re not careful, I won’t let you cum either, Dean.” Dean immediately

pulled his finger free. “Sorry, Sammy. I’ll be good.” “Good. Now it’s time to get that hole of yours ready for me.”

Claire had never seen Dean look so desperate. So wrecked. Hell, she had never seen him so submissive. He was always so dominant with her. He gripped the sheets in his fists and whined and whimpered with every thrust of Sam’s cock in his ass. “Please, Sammy. Harder. You can go harder.” “Such a little whore for me, Dean. So hungry for his baby brother’s cock.” Sam snapped his hips against Dean harder. Dean let out a gasp and buried his face into the bed. She could hear Dean breathing out and chanting “fuckfuckfuck” as Sam continued to pound into him. She felt a shiver of desire run through her body as her gaze remained intent on the two brothers. She twisted against her restraints and whined. Sam’s gaze locked on her and he pulled his cock free of Dean’s. “Sammy, please!” Dean begged. Sam gave him a hard smack across his ass. “I want you to fuck her. Destroy that little pussy.” Dean turned and looked at his little brother. “But I want you to fuck me.” He whined. Sam smirked, “Who said I wasn’t going to fuck you too?” Dean didn’t hesitate to climb back onto Claire’s bed. He shoved a thick finger into her to try and open her up a little. She gasped at the sudden intrusion and bucked against his hand. Sam was still kneeling on the other bed, stroking his cock. Dean pushed a second finger into Claire and she winced at the stretch. “Enough, Dean. Fuck her.” Dean frowned at his brother. “She’s still too tight.” “But she’s wet enough. I can hear how wet she is. She’ll loosen up once you get going. Besides, it’s not about her tonight. She is being punished after all.” Claire looked back and forth between them. Dean still looked unsure. “Fuck me, Dean. I can take it. I want it.” Dean didn’t hesitate any more and lined himself up before pushing in. He had to fight for every inch he gained inside her as she panted at the burn. Once he was fully seated, she threw her head back, blonde hair scattered all over the pillow. Dean’s forehead rested against her chest and his forearms wrapped under her shoulders as he breathed deeply. She could feel his legs quivering as he tried to control himself. He jerked suddenly and Claire looked down to see that Sam was standing over them, stroking a hand up and down Dean’s back. “How’s that feel, De?” “Fuckin’ tight.” Dean grunted back. The bed dipped as Sam climbed on behind Dean. His large hands gripped Dean’s hips as he rubbed his cock over Dean’s ass. Dean shuddered deeply and pulled back from Claire to push himself back against Sam. Claire thrust her hips, but her movement was limited since she was still tied down. Sam noticed and reached over to tug the knots around her ankles free. She immediately pulled her legs up to wrap around Dean’s waist. She felt Sam run his hands up and down her legs before gripping her thighs and pulling her into Dean. Dean groaned at the feeling before lifting his head and kissing Claire hard, shoving a tongue into her mouth. She started to grind her hips against Dean, needing more. “No baby girl. Stay still.” Sam ordered. She obeyed reluctantly and felt his hands return to Dean’s hips. Dean’s cock twitched inside her as Sam slid back into Dean’s tight warmth. “Fuck us, Dean.” Sam commanded. Dean shuddered as he started a slow rhythm of fucking into Claire while fucking back into Sam. Before long, his speed picked up and Claire was holding onto the ropes around her wrists desperately. Sam growled and started shoving hard into Dean, pushing him into Claire and breaking his rhythm. Dean whined out, “Sammy, ‘m gonna cum if you keep that up.” “Then do it. Fill that bitch up.” Claire and Dean moaned in unison as Sam continued his rapid, hard thrusts. Claire felt the coil tighten in her belly and could tell that Dean was close too as he started to throb inside her. Dean’s chest was pressed against hers and as she felt the dam inside her break, she bit hard into his shoulder. Dean gasped and used his grip under her arms to her shoulders to pull her onto him as deep as he could get before unloading himself inside her. “Fuck!” Sam cried out as he gave a few more hard shoves

into Dean before stilling and grunting as he came himself. He had a tight grip on Dean’s hips that looked like it would leave bruises. They all stayed in their positions, breathing deeply before Claire managed to chuckle out “God, that was fucking amazing!” Both boys let out light laughs of their own as Sam pulled free of Dean slowly and collapsed to the side of Claire. Dean then pulled himself out of Claire and laid down on her other side. “Uh, boys? You gonna untie me?” “Oh, shit. Sorry, sweetheart.” Dean mumbled before leaning up to pull the knot at her wrist free, while Sam undid the other. Once she was free, Dean curled into her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. Sam pulled the blanket up over the three of them before moving arm under Claire’s head and holding the arm of Dean’s that was around Claire’s waist with his other arm. He kissed Claire’s cheek and mumbled, “Sorry we made you wait so long, baby girl. Hope it was worth it in the end.” “Yea, Sam. It was most definitely worth it.”

#j3bingo #dean x claire x sam #dean x claire x sam smut #spn smut #wincest #smut #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #synmorite #synmoritewrites

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lizzy-williams · 4 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭?

((TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET, originally on my wattpad: cinnamon_opal))

★ Warnings: Major angst, depressing undertones, drug use (heroin)

★ Theme song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2f_f3RLZeBU

Saturday Night by Graham Coxon

masterlist

𝑰 𝑳𝑰𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 lighter with a quick flip. The substance in the spoon began to fizz and pop. I drew the flame away, taking the syringe and drawing the plunger back as the liquid from the spoof was transferred into the tube.

I set the spoon and the syringe down and proceeded to tie a belt around my arm. 7 months sober and this is what I had to show for it. A boyfriend who hates me and a family who abandons me. Slowly, I placed the needle to my skin, feeling nothing but a small poke. I pressed the plunger down.

It was done. 7 months down the drain. But in seconds... no, milliseconds, everything was pure euphoria. It was bliss. This is what I was missing I thought. I began to remember when my boyfriend and I would do this together and we always had the best time. We were happy. But everything became sour as I began to cry. What was I doing?

There was nothing I could do now, the drugs were already in my bloodstream. Quick [ y / n ], think of something. Tim.The first thing I thought of was Tim. I quickly shuffled my hands around me. I probably looked like an idiot. I kept going back on whether I wanted to call or not. The feeling I was driving myself away from for months was back and I couldn't stop it.

When my fingertips grazed the back of my phone case, I was quick to grab the phone itself. I fumbled it due to how bad my hands were shaking. I found my emergency contacts.

He and I had just had a fight, but instead of being mature, I went to the corner and bought a bag of the shit that might as well kill me. Boom, it was calling. The phone gave a silent dial tone before I turned on speakerphone, afraid that he wouldn't even pick up because of how late it was.

"[ y / n ]?"

"Tim," I quickly cleared my throat, "Tim, I'm sorry. About th-the things I said. I'm sorry. I j-just... I just n-need you right now." I fumbled over my words.There was silence. I could nearly hear his jaw clenching on the other side.

"Where are you?"That was all I got. I looked around the room I was in.

"U-Um... I... Motel 6 off of Highland, I think." It took me a second to even figure out where I was. Jesus, I was a mess.

And then the line went dead. I wanted to cry. But I couldn't. I just curled into a ball. And I just laid there. It didn't take long for me to realize I left the door unlocked. I heard a knock, the handle turning. But I was too out of it. My vision was just reflections of items that were in front of me. "[ y / n ]! Hey!" I was being shaken. But I couldn't move my body. Instead, all that left my chapped lips was the name of the boy I broke. I could feel him looking at the needle wounds.

"Tim?" It was light. Oh so light. But he still heard it. I felt my torso get lifted up. He smacked my face gently, but I was still out of it. My vision was still blurry. I was cold. I felt a tightness in my throat and stomach, vomiting the contents of whatever food was left in me.

When I sat up, Tim was there with a washcloth I had there previously. He cleaned off my face and I could see him semi-clearly.

"[ y / n ], god, I shouldn't have let you leave the house, this is all my fault." Tim was... blaming himself. No, no. It was me, Tim, I did this! I would think.

"T-Timmy..." I lifted my hand up with all the strength I had left as my hand cupped his cheek.

"Yeah?" He was crying now, "What is it, baby?"

"I'm sorry." I really couldn't remember what happened after that. All that I do remember is Tim laying me in bed, my head on his chest as he held me close, crying from time to time.

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

The next morning was a trip. I woke up with Tim still there. I was agitated, but there was nothing to antagonize it. It was the hangover from the heroin. I sat up, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Hey." Was all he said.

"Hi," I responded quietly, scratching my arm.

"So. I think you know what needs to be talked about."

"Yeah," I began to tear up.

I hunched over and began crying. "I'm so sorry, Tim... I... I didn't know what else to turn to. I just... got tired. I wanted that piece of my life back. The feeling it gave me when I took it."

"Me. You could have turned to me, or your dad, or your sponsor." He was now frustrated.

"I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to," I was full-on sobbing now. "I just want it to go away, Timothée, please. I want help."

He got off the bed and got in front of me. All it took was one look of his teared up eyes for me to break, my arms flinging around him, my face getting buried in his chest.

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

The car came to a stop. Tim looked at me. I was biting my nails, anxiety taking over my thoughts. But I was doing this for him. Only for him. "These guys are professionals. They'll help you."

I just nodded my head. We got out of the car, walking in. I sat down in the waiting room. After I took some drug tests, I just stood in the waiting room with my bag.

"I love you, [ y / n ]. You need this. For us. For you." Tim's hands caressed my face, wiping a tear as it fell down my cheek.

"I love you, Tim." I leaned in for a kiss. "You'll visit right?"

"I wouldn't miss it. It's just a week. Just to get things sorted out."I nodded my head.

I needed this.

It was for both of us.

#timothee chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #cmbyn #fanfiction #love #romance #beautiful boy #angst #sensitive themes

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years

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To Serve and Protect - Chapter 5

SUMMARY: Detective Killian Jones has been investigating a stalker-turned-murderer for months by the time he goes home from the bar with Emma Swan. But when he thinks he sees the very man in question outside her apartment, can he separate his feelings for her and his need to keep her safe?

TRIGGERS: well, this is a fic about a serial killer. mentions of violence and death, with some physical violence/whump. as always, if you need me to discuss this further for you to be comfortable, message me. – rated teen

Prologue // Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4 // Ch. 5 on AO3

a/n: another Monday, another chapter, another cliffhanger?, still no baby.

-- -- -- --

Graham shows up first, quickly clearing the two flights of stairs that lead to Killian’s walkup apartment. The first thing he notices is the open door.

The second is the emptiness in the space at the top of the steps. Emma’s not there, only a few bags of groceries and a bottle of wine.

Jesus, what’s he going to tell David — but he pushes the thought down with a gulp, not even allowing his brain to go there.

“Jones!” he calls out, turning his attention towards the half-open door. “I’m coming in!” And for a moment, the whole world stills, only silence greeting him on the other side. And then:

“Oh, Graham, thank god.” Emma’s voice comes from across the room, half-shrouded by the couch. He catches his breath closing his eyes for half a second. “Did you — are you —” He doesn’t even know what questions he’s trying to ask, but they’re not coming out either way, so he snaps his mouth shut before crossing the room to where Emma is kneeling on the floor.

There’s blood. There’s a lot of blood, actually, something which has long since stopped bothering Graham. But seeing Killian Jones passed out on the floor, a blood-soaked light blue towel pressed against his shoulder, makes his stomach churn. Sure, Killian can be a pompous asshole, he sometimes doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, and he’s been known to defy an order or two, but Graham would still place him on the short list of his friends.

“The stalker’s dead in the kitchen,” Emma says, her eyes never once leaving where she’s putting as much pressure on Killian’s gunshot wound as she can. “At least, I’m assuming it’s the stalker. And I’m assuming he’s dead, given that there’s been no movement or sound from over there since I came in.”

Graham nods, changing his course to check on that, first. Sure enough, behind the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, there’s a dead body, a bullet in his chest and one just below his neck. Of course Killian would manage two almost-perfect shots while he’s getting shot himself.

“Yeah,” Graham confirms, pressing his fingers against the man’s neck even though there’s no way he could still be alive after those two shots. “He’s dead alright. How’s Jones?”

Emma sighs, but before she can answer, Henry calls to them from the hallway: “Jones! Miss Swan! I’m coming in!”

“We’re clear, Mills,” Graham says, meeting the young man at the door, and they share a nod before both holstering their weapons. “One DB in the kitchen, and Jones is unconscious with a shoulder injury but still alive.”

“And the ambulance?”

“On its way,” Emma says. “A few minutes passed between when I called you and them, so they should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the two paramedics push their way into the apartment.

“Sheriff,” one of them says gruffly, sharing a nod with Graham.

“Booth. Officer Jones is behind the couch. And there’s a DB in the kitchen.”

“DB’s are your jurisdiction,” he half-jokes, but rushes to where Killian is lying on the floor. “Emma,” he says, kneeling next to her on the floor, and Graham notices the way a soft blush rises to her cheeks.

“Hey, August.”

“You did a great job with the towel. Probably saved his life.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, letting August take her place at his shoulder, and she reaches out to sweep Killian’s hair off his forehead.

“I’ll take it from here,” he says, but Emma is already pushing herself off the floor and wiping her hands on her already-bloodstained dress.

“I’m… gonna change,” she says, her voice still soft, and she doesn’t meet anyone’s eye before she turns back towards the bedroom.

“You can take all the time you need, Miss Swan,” Graham says, and she stops but doesn’t turn towards them. “I’ll wait for you and you can ride to the hospital with me.”

But she’s already shaking her head. “No, I’m going with him.”

It’s not a question, but Graham still turns to August who confirms. After finishing his current task, the paramedic meets his eyes, nods with a shrug, and goes back to what he’s doing.

She told herself she didn’t need to know. She even told Killian that, if given the choice, she didn’t want to know. But now that the choice is here, literally, dead in Killian’s kitchen, she can’t stop thinking about him.

Because what if he is someone from her past, as improbable as it is? What if all of this was because of her?

She takes a deep breath in and holds it, pausing from trying to wash Killian’s blood off her hands to look at herself in the mirror for a moment before releasing it. From what she can tell, though her dress is ruined, none of it soaked through to her bra, which she only thinks about since she doesn’t know if she has another here to change into.

Anything to keep her mind off of what happened in the last ten minutes.

It doesn’t all come off, the blood staining her hands and her arms, but she does her best. It’s a warm day, but she has no idea what the temperature in the hospital is going to be like, so she opts for leggings and a plain white v-neck, but before she leaves the bedroom she pulls a blue and white flannel shirt from Killian’s closet overtop.

She is silent as she crosses the apartment, her arms crossed over her chest to make her as small as she can, but she’s made up her mind.

“Emma, are you—” Graham starts, turning away from where they’re moving Killian to a stretcher, but when she doesn’t stop, her path clear, he crosses the living room and tries to stop her. “I don’t think you want to do that.”

“No, Graham,” she says, shaking her head as she pushes past him and into the kitchen. “I’ve made up my mind, I need —” She swallows, stepping around the counter, but her attention is still on Graham. “I need to see him, I need to know.”

When she does turn her eyes down towards the body on the floor, though, everything stops: her words, her mind, her heart. Her breath catches in her throat. She might throw up — hell, she might faint. She needs—

Air.

Deep breaths. Slow movements. The balcony. Fresh air.

Holy shit.

“We’re ready to go here, Miss Swan, if you still want to come with us.”

But she knows she can’t. She can barely breathe, nonetheless make it down a flight of steps, so she shakes her head. “No, I — I’ll go with Graham. We need to talk to David.”

Though Graham offered to pick him up at the tavern, David insists on meeting her at the hospital. Between the slow night and the fear in Emma’s voice, he leaves almost immediately, much closer to the hospital than Killian’s apartment, but Graham and Emma still beat him there in the sheriff’s cruiser.

She’s a mess. An absolute mess, pacing in the waiting room, unable to stop moving — her feet, her hands, her mind, everything moving a mile a minute. Graham tried to get her to talk on the way there, but she couldn’t do it, wasn’t able to explain anything with David there. (Odd, he thought, but she’s certainly in a state of shock, so he doesn’t question it.)

It only takes David a few minutes longer than them to get there, but she spends them trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, trying to figure everything out.

It doesn’t help, though. If anything, it just makes her head spin faster, dizzying her to the point where she needs to sit down for a moment — a moment that finds a quick end when David finally walks through the doors. It’s obvious by both his crazed expression and the amount of his hair sticking up in different directions that he’s been worrying about her since she hung up the phone, which doesn’t surprise her, but there wasn’t much she could do about it, since she couldn’t fill him in over the phone.

He greets Graham first, sharing a handshake with him before wrapping his arms around Emma. She’s always thought that was part of the reason she got along with him much better than James, even though she’s much similar to his gruff, silent personality. But David always seemed to understand her, was there for her emotionally the way no one else ever tried to be, and he truly has been pretty much her only best friend until Ruby came home to Storybrooke a few years’ past.

“Emma, please, tell me what’s going on,” he says after a moment, the silence of it all finally getting to him.

So she does. She fills him in, letting Graham give a little background on the stalker case after she talks about going home with Killian that first night. She doesn’t share anything that doesn’t need to — he is still her brother, and she would be okay if both he and Graham just assumed that she and Killian’s relationship had never gotten physical. She sums up the past few weeks quickly, seeing him throughout the day, spending nights between their apartments, everything he needs to know, until she gets to earlier that night, to standing in the hallway helpless as she hears the gunshots, to hoping that it’s safe for her to go in even though all that greets her on the other side of the door is silence — and how she found Killian on the floor behind the couch with a bullet in the shoulder and the stalker in the kitchen, how she called 9-1-1 and they talked her through finding a towel and putting pressure on the wound until the paramedics got there.

At the end of it all, David sighs from the seat he decided to take next to Graham, even with Emma still pacing between them and Henry, now seated on the other side of the small aisle. “So everything’s okay, the stalker is taken care of and now we just have to wait for Killian to get out of surgery.”

Emma shakes her head as she whips to face him, movement enough to make her vision go blurry for a moment. “Everything is not okay, David,” she says, which grabs the attention of both men. “It all comes back to Neal.”

“What?”

“The stalker. It was Felix.”

Graham stands up, running his fingers through his hair. This is beginning to be too much for him. “Wait, you— you know the stalker?”

At this, Emma nods, sitting in the seat he just stood from. “After I graduated from high school, I needed to get out of Storybrooke, but you already know that. So I went to Boston, and that’s where I met Neal. I got into the wrong crowd almost immediately, and he was — well, he was in charge of it. I knew he was older than me, but I never cared about how much older. I was seventeen and stupid and I though he was the answer to the thrilling life that I thought I needed. And I thought I loved him, which blinded me to what he was really doing, which was serious crime on top of all the gaslighting and manipulation towards me in particular. He would be out all night, come home all bloodied up but happy, and told me I was insane when I tried to ask him about it. Plus he had all this money, which he said came from his dad, who was apparently the ambassador of something, some kind of Boston big shot, so I shrugged off the fact that he had so much money.

“His best friend was this guy named Felix, who was even more terrifying than he was, covered in scars and tattoos and he had a violent past, though Neal convinced me it was all in the past even though he was apparently wanted for murder or something near the end, which was when I found out what they were doing, what they had been doing the whole time we were together. But I was young and stupid and I thought I was in love, so I shrugged it off, especially when he talked about running away from it all, leaving behind his life in Boston that required so much from him to somewhere quiet, where we could live in peace after one more big grab. That’s what he called it. And I believed him.

“We were supposed to leave that night, so I met him at his father’s mansion, everything packed in my car. I just needed him to come home. But it was a set up, and they called the cops and claimed to have me under citizen’s arrest, though I wouldn’t have even had anywhere to run had I tried. I was seventeen, an orphan, technically family-less since Ruth had never finalized her adoption, so I went to prison until my eighteenth birthday and then came home. I’ve been trying to forget about Neal and his cronies for ten years, and since Ruth passed a few years ago, David is the only person that knows what happened in the year and a half I was gone, except that little bit I’ve told Killian over the past few weeks but seeing Felix’s face tonight, even seeing him dead in Killian’s kitchen, brought it all back.”

David, who wrapped his arm around her shoulder near the beginning of her story, pulls her in closer, an awkward hug at an awkward angle, especially with the arms of their chairs between them, but it calms Emma nonetheless.

“I don’t think it’s over, though,” she says after a moment, voicing the fear that has chilled her since she recognized the body in Killian’s kitchen.

Graham is still trying to wrap his head around it all, and this certainly doesn’t help. Both he and Henry look back up at her. “Why? What?”

“Everything Felix did, he either did because Neal told him to, or because he was trying to impress him. So if Felix really is behind all this, as you seem to believe he is—”

“He matches the sketches that some of his victims have given us, he’s definitely the stalker,” Graham cuts in, needing to have some semblance of control over the situation.

Emma nods, but continues. “He either did it because Neal told him to, or he did it for him. Either way, I can’t help but think that wherever Felix is, Neal can’t be too far behind.”

“Fuck.” The word slips through David’s teeth, sounding foreign to Emma in his voice, but it’s fitting.

“So you think this Neal guy might be here in Storybrooke?” Henry asks.

Hearing the words spoken out loud makes Emma want to scream, or cry, or curl up in a ball on the floor. Or all three. But that doesn't change the fact that: “Yes. Or he will be soon. He may even be listed as Felix’s next of kin.”

She doesn’t like making plans without Killian, since he has been so integral to her and her safety for weeks now, but hearing Graham and Henry trying to piece a plan together, one that involves police escorts and uniforms stationed outside David’s house — the only safe place for her to stay, obviously — begins to calm her still-pounding heart.

They sit in silence for a while, each of them still trying to fit all the pieces together in a puzzle that seems totally impossible, but it’s not long before Dr. Whale comes out through the doors, a smile on his face that clashes with the tension in the waiting room.

If he senses something is off, he ignores it, spreading his arms wide in what can only be described as a welcoming gesture. Understandably,all four of them in the waiting room ignore it.

“I have good news, and I have good news!”

He’s much too happy for them. Graham rolls his eyes, as he does multiple times every time he has to deal with the doctor.

When only Emma and Henry physically turn their attention towards him, he tones the theatrics down a bit, which might be all that he’s capable of. “Since it was a low-caliber bullet, it didn’t pass all the way through, stopped by his shoulder blade and the muscles around it. Normally we’d worry about irreversible nerve damage to his hand and arm, but since he already has a prosthetic, that's no concern to us and he should heal just fine, with some minor physical therapy to fully regain use of his shoulder.”

“Can we see him?” Emma asks, her voice noticeably quieter than normal, making her seem smaller. Weaker.

Dr. Whale purses his lips, his eyes turned to the floor — avoiding meeting any of their gazes. “He’s not awake yet from the anesthesia, and probably won’t be until morning.”

“Besides,” Graham starts, practically cutting him off. “You should get some rest tonight. Tomorrow I’m going to need to take formal statements from both of you, a lot of paperwork and a lot of formalities. It’ll probably take most of the day.”

Emma sighs. “We’re supposed to meet with Mayor Mills tomorrow to go over a few cases.”

Everyone in the waiting room, including the doctor, watches in awe as Graham blushes, a soft smile gracing his face. “I’ll take care of Mayor Mills for you, don’t worry.”

A shocked silence takes over the waiting room. David laughs.

Dr. Whale clicks his tongue. “Well. Mr. Jones will be ready for visitors in the morning,” he says, then turns away from them and pushes back through the double doors he came through.

David barks out another laugh, breaking the silence that has built around them, slipping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. “It appears our boy here has developed himself a little crush.”

Graham rolls his eyes, but his blush deepens nonetheless. “For your information, Nolan — not that it’s any of your business anyway — it appears that she returns my ‘crush,’” he says, putting his own air-quotes around the word. “And she and I have been on a few dates as our busy schedules have allowed.”

Henry covers his face with his hands. David, apparently, can’t stop laughing. Emma’s not even sure how to feel, but can’t keep the smile off her face.

Graham shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here, alright? The smell of antiseptic is upsetting my stomach.”

She was worried about not being able to sleep. It was much easier to convince herself that she was safe when she could feel Killian beside her, when she knew that if anything did go wrong, he would be right there to protect her, either from the ghosts in her mind or the ones that had recently manifested in the real world. But she can’t get rid of them, the memories of Neal from ten years ago and the nightmares that have plagued her since, not to mention the memory of Felix dead in Killian’s apartment. Sure, Graham told her not to, and he was probably right, but she had to, had to know. Did it make anything better? Questionable. In some ways, it definitely made it worse, the shadow of Neal hanging over her more than ever before.

She can’t do this, though. Every time she closes her eyes, she’s met with Felix, or Neal, or one of his other cronies, or something from those long few months she spent in jail. Sighing, she pushes herself out of the bed, making her way to the guest bathroom as quietly as she can.

She turns on the faucet, needing some sort of sound to stop the ringing in her ears, the screaming in her head, and it almost works. Splashing the water on her face helps a little, too, helps calm the pounding of her heart. She runs her fingers through her hair, fisting some of the strands. For a moment, she thinks about showering again, even though she stood under the spray for far too long when they got home from the hospital, but she fears that nothing will make the nightmarish pictures on the other side of her eyelids disappear.

But she has to try. So she shuts off the water, turning away from the mirror before she can meet her own eyes, and leaves the bathroom, deciding instead to try sleeping.

And it almost works. She drifts off quickly, somehow, but it doesn’t last for too long before the piercing ring of her cell phone cuts through the silence of the house.

Graham Humbert, the screen reads.

Well, fuck. Her mind begins to race immediately, but it’s racing in circles around one main point: Neal Gold.

“What? What happened?”

“Emma, relax, please,” he breathes, though his own inability to do so is prevalent in his voice, even over the phone. “Killian is fine, he wasn’t hurt, but there’s been — there was an attempted attack at the hospital, and we got him. But Killian wants you here, just in case there’s someone else here. Henry’s waiting for you outside David’s.”

“Okay.”

“See you soon.”

But then it hits her: “Wait!” she says, hoping it’s not too late, and Graham hums. “You said you got him, but who was it?”

“Oh,” he says cooly, as if his next words aren’t going to rip her world apart. “It was Neal. Neal Gold.”

-- -- -- --

tagging: @shireness-says @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @darkcolinodonorgasm @profdanglaisstuff @stahlop @teamhook @snowbellewells @carpedzem @pepperspotts @imlaxdris71 @gingerchangeling @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @scientificapricot @resident-of-storybrooke @ultraluckycatnd @itsfabianadocarmo @galadriel26 @jennjenn615 @therealstartraveller776 @nightskylover @xarandomdreamx @kristi555 @nikkiemms @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove – if you want to be added or removed, please let me know

#my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #cs fics #my fics #captain swan #the detective fic #killian jones #emma swan #answers? you want answers? WELL #you get this instead

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radiojamming · 5 years

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The Terror Meta - Tom Hartnell: Symbol of Death, Redemption, and Bravery

By now, I think it’s been established that The Terror’s writers went above and beyond when it came to making their characters. The question board picture has been circulated (including the question of when a character went from being in a high adventure story to horror), so it’s probably not a reach to say that every character had their place in the show carefully considered. And one of those characters is Tom Hartnell.

(Warning: Long post and spoiler heavy. Uh, people die. A lot.)

For the show’s time constraints, Tom’s backstory is mentioned in snippets, mostly in the first episode. David Young provides the majority of it:

“I don’t want you to do to me what you did to Tom Hartnell’s brother. [...] I want to go to my grave as I am. Don’t cut me open.”

Several times in the same episode, references are made to the men on Beechey Island, having been the first three casualties of the Expedition. Clearly, Tom’s brother was one of these three.

I’ve posted this on my blog before, but the original pilot script also gave Tom an extra role and provided deeper backstory, such as this:

With Tom on the Erebus watching Billy Orren drown and attempting to go after him, a role that was eventually given to Collins. And again in a removed flashback to Beechey Island, which provides not only backstory, but further explanation to why Tom is the way that he is:

While this isn’t included in the show, the writers probably kept this scene in mind with his character. Yeah, Tom walked in on his brother’s autopsy. From the very beginning of the Expedition, he dealt with death in the most direct and horrifying way possible. In the sense of the writer’s question of when it went from high adventure to horror? It was probably this moment, before the show even begins.

From this point, Tom is transferred to Terror for reasons not explained, but now everyone knows what’s happened to him. Even people as far down the hierarchy rungs as David Young know, and it makes them uneasy. But here’s where it gets interesting.

At the moment David Young starts coughing, Tom Hartnell appears in nearly every single scene involving a person either dying or about to die. Case in point.

He’s sitting right behind Hickey and looks over his shoulder when David starts coughing. Shortly after, when David retches, he’s standing up and watching him.

(It should probably be noted that David dies of exactly the same disease that killed Tom’s brother. Wuh-oh.)

“Okay, DJ, but that’s just one time. He’s an AB, so of course he would be there!” you might say.

You’re right! But the next time he appears in Episode 2 (”Gore”), look who he’s standing next to.

Lieutenant Graham Gore, that’s who! (And Morfin by extension, but that’s for later. Same with Des Voeux.)

Aaaand who goes next?

(Really big UH-OH.)

And if you want to go by extension, he’s also present when Silna’s father is shot, and is the one assigned to collect Silna’s things that are in the Erebus sick bay with her father’s body in Ep. 3 (”The Ladder”).

Where he looks, appropriately, uncomfortable. @theiceandbones absolutely brilliantly pointed out that yes, this is the Erebus sick bay where Tom walked in on his brother’s autopsy. It stands to mind that of course he’d be anxious. He knocks on the doorframe before he enters, walking in slowly and nervously. His body language here is interesting and hard to capture with just screenshots, but he keeps trying to look away from the body as much as possible, but is finding it very hard to look away. Even as he’s leaving the room, he looks again, while also bodily backing away from it. With his brother’s death in mind, he’s revisiting the place where it all happened, possibly for the first time since then.

While I think his death symbolism starts with David Young, it really picks up between here and the next scene, where he speaks to Silna.

In the short time he speaks to her, a few things are established, both said and unsaid. Unlike some of the crew, Tom doesn’t appear to be uneasy about Silna, but instead is sympathetic. His job was probably just to get her things and deliver them, but he goes out of his way to help her and extends kindness in packing her food. He offers his condolences, and again, in something that is hard to catch in screenshots, he thinks about it for a moment, looking conflicted before offering them and giving her the nickname she’ll have for the rest of the series.

It’s unsaid, but undoubtedly, he’s thinking of his own loss as well.

We don’t see Tom for a little while until near the end of the episode when Sir John is taken into the firehole. And then, sure enough:

There he is. (For an AB, he’s sure showing up with officers quite a bit.)

Tom is in-frame for death after death after death.

It gets subverted (like a lot of things) in Ep. 4 (”Punished, As a Boy”). Tom is not in frame during Private Heather’s attack, which may be owed to Heather not dying. Strong is taken off-screen, and Evans is only with Crozier when he’s killed. He reappears briefly and in-focus, sitting with Hickey and Peglar, when Tozer is talking about how baffled they all are that Heather hasn’t died.

He also doesn’t appear when the Strong-Evans mismatched corpse is found by Hickey, who proceeds to actually see the Tuunbaq for the first time. The next time he’s seen is at a very pivotal scene for not only him, but the entire plot.

At this point, Hickey’s claimed responsibility for capturing Silna, and Tom stands up a few seconds after to also claim responsibility. This is where I think the tone of his subplot changes completely, all in the matter of one scene:

The interrogation.

Now the above shot is kind of amazing, and I’ve only noticed it recently, but knowing how much detail the show crew put into this, I feel like it’s relevant to point out a few things. First, this shot is framed with Hartnell in the center and Hickey and Manson off to the side, just after Hickey says that Tom saw the Tuunbaq first. There’s a brief shot of Hartnell sort of side-glaring at Hickey with his lip twitching before he steels himself, and then this composition. Little and Fitzjames are looking at Hickey, but Crozier’s looking at Tom, fully and completely. He knows something, and it feels relevant to note that Hickey is level with a chessboard, while Tom is level with the light.

I’ve posted about Tom’s face journey here before, and I’ll recycle a few shots for this, but the turning point comes just after Crozier outlines what Hickey’s being accosted and punished for. He names the punishment (the lashes), and Tom’s face says it all.

Fear. His eyes are watering. He has to take in a few breaths, but then Crozier asks what do they have to say and without even a full second of hesitation (I counted):

Tom says, “Yes, sir!” as clearly as possible. He accepts the punishment immediately. Crozier’s reaction:

He stares at Tom for a long moment, thoughtful, until Little draws his attention away.

Now, what does this have to do with the theory of Tom being a symbol of death? Well, a lot. I’ll get to that.

First, during the lashing, you only hear Tom’s v/o telling Manson that the lashings will hurt, and that the pain is the point of why they’re lashed. He is deliberately kept out of sight and focus, because the punishment isn’t really for him in the audience’s eyes anymore. He was probably absolved the moment Crozier looked at him. The punishment is completely directed on Hickey after that.

Ep. 5 (”First Shot a Winner, Lads”) is where the change in Hartnell really shows. The episode starts off with scenes of life now. Officers and men are taking measurements of temperature and gauging the speed of sound and light. Fitzjames is working on the charts (towards Back’s Fish River). Goodsir and Lady Silence are talking and translating, and the trinkets from the men are shown as they’ve interacted with her. The show physically leans away from death for a moment, which up until now has been bloody and gruesome. The first person who dies is Hornby, and all that happens to him?

He simply falls to the ground. No blood. No viscera. His heart’s just stopped.

Of course, the next time Tom appears:

He’s handling Hornby’s body and taking it down to the dead room.

This scene is very poignant because it shows how four different characters handle the idea of death and the afterlife, all in very short order.

You have Magnus, scared of the hold because he’s certain he’s heard the voices of Strong and Evans. He’s afraid of the ghosts that he’s sure are there.

You have Irving, who is oddly indignant, technical when it comes to the dead with explaining that all that’s left of them are frozen remains and canvas shrouds, and furious at the idea of Manson believing in ghosts.

Hickey, who at first seems to be doing Manson a kindness, but probably just more eager to show Irving up.

And then Tom, completely unafraid of handling a body, and offering to Manson that he can get the job done if Manson lowers Hornby down.

The next shot we see is another interesting one, with Hartnell leading the way to the dead room, Hickey bringing up the rear, and Manson, the lantern-bearer, several steps behind. (You could say a lot for crossing the River Styx energies here, ya.)

And then the dead room is shown at a Dutch angle or Dutch tilt, a technique used to establish uneasiness or tension.

Manson is watching the two of them work in the dead room, out of the light, in a shot that is off-kilter (yes, the ship is off-kilter as well, but up until this point, everyone has been shown standing upright) to suggest that something is going to go wrong. But then:

Tom steps out of the dead room first, in the lantern light, standing upright against the angle, diffusing the tension. There are no ghosts, no eerie disembodied voices. And just like that, with a quiet affirmation--

The scene ends, with nothing having gone wrong.

To follow up on this in the sense of Tom’s character, he’s gone from being nervous and touchy around the dead to being completely alright with their presence.

Following this, there are more scenes of life against all odds. Tozer is cutting Heather’s nails and speaking to him as though he’s awake. Hodgson supervises another scientific experiment with the cannons. Goodsir and Lady Silence meet with Blanky and Crozier and speak, ending up with the fight that culminates between Fitzjames and Crozier. No one is killed. If anything, this is one the liveliest scenes thusfar.

The next time he appears?

Is when the Tuunbaq is on the ship and about to appear in full. Before, his appearance might have suggested that someone was about to die, but something kind of interesting happens.

The crew fire on the Tuunbaq after Blanky marks it with the lantern fire, and for one of the first times in the show, Tom actually appears happy.

He’s excited! He’s standing with Little, Hodgson, and Tozer, and they’re all thrilled. Even more amazing?

Blanky does not die.

He’s injured. His injuries require a pretty gruesome amputation, but of all the episodes in the show, Ep. 5 ends with the lowest body count.

Now Ep. 6 (”A Mercy”) is kind of all over the place for Tom and everyone else. He appears first talking to Hickey about Armitage, who is now revealed to have been part of their plot to kidnap Lady Silence. Hickey asks why Tom didn’t turn Armitage in, even after being flogged.

Hickey: You’d have been in your rights to.

Hartnell: I didn’t see the point in it.

Hickey: Even still? After getting flogged? That sort of thing can change your sense of what the point is.

Hartnell: It did. I’m grateful... is the point.

Hickey: [pause] Reformed you, did it?

Hartnell: I shouldn’t have listened to you. And I deserved to be flogged.

Hickey: [silence]

Hartnell: Yeah, and by ordering it, the Captain, he’s given me a chance to clean my record and start anew.

Hickey: Do you think Crozier sees it like that? A new Mr. Hartnell?

Hartnell: I do, yeah. [smiles] And I intend to use that charter well.

This is another turning point for both Hartnell and Hickey. Hickey is realizing that his list of allies is getting shorter (he starts by trying to drive a wedge between Tom and command, reminding him that he physically suffered because of them, and when he realizes that it isn’t going to work, he mocks him and leaves him) and now understands that Tom probably won’t work with him again.

Tom shows that his loyalty is now completely with Crozier. I’d even say that he never followed Hickey’s ideals in the first place, even with the kidnapping (remember how he acted toward Lady Silence before, and how quick he was to be held responsible). This is him now completely, as the phrase goes, on the side of angels. It’s going to add a new tone to his next few interactions, and really drive home his place as a death symbol.

Ep. 6 is as bloody and horrific as Ep. 5 was not. Fitzjames holds his Carnivale, Jopson and Crozier attend, and it all goes wrong very, very fast. One thing that @theiceandbones and I noticed was that before it-shay hits the an-fay, Tom is seen once in costume.

And he’s dressed as what appears to be a lion - a very poignant symbol of bravery (and Britain, if you want to go that far).

Of course, during the fire, Tom is there (as is everyone except Hickey who is outside of the tent), so I’d hesitate to call that a connection. His first mention after Carnivale is through Bridgens, who tells Crozier that Tom reported Dr. Peddie lost during the fire.

Going into Episode 7 (”Horrible from Supper”), Tom is officially an outlier to the people who are going to become the Mutineers. He’s excluded from anything Hickey begins to plan and is completely on the captains’ side. Literally. His next shot shows him between Crozier and Jopson.

But more relevant is the next time he’s seen with Crozier and Blanky, making notes of the ice and the movement of the compass. Blanky remarks:

Tom’s been completely redeemed in the eyes of Crozier, enough that he’s being asked to step outside the grunt work of hauling sledges, and his opinions and observations are trusted (”Very well. I’ll continue to rely on your eyes.”). The way he gives his observations also show an uptick in confidence and enthusiasm. He’s happy, and a far step away from his nervous, mournful attitude of earlier episodes.

Has he stepped out of the role of being a death symbol? Yes, and no.

Death has started to dog the crew of the Expedition again. Madness is seeping in with the lead. Hickey begins to weave the tapestry of his mutiny as the gruesome discovery of Fairholme’s party takes place (note that Tom isn’t present for this). Rescue seems impossible, and death is starting to become imminent.

Tom Hartnell’s role begins to change, and he goes from being present at the deaths to aiding in the recovery. Whereas death is everywhere, Tom is a symbol of something gentler (on a whole, this is talked about beautifully in this meta piece).

It starts with Morfin.

Remember that Tom was in the shot with Gore, Morfin, and Des Voeux in Ep. 2, and he’s seen with Morfin again with Lady Silence’s father in the Erebus sick bay later. His role changes with Morfin in Ep. 7 (I’d even through in the symbolism of Morfin singing The Silver Swan if we really want to go wild with the death icons). Morfin is shot, put out of his misery effectively, and Tom does not appear until after he is killed. More importantly, he’s now interacting with the scene - helping, as it were.

He’s at the center of the shot with Goodsir - not Morfin, who is technically the subject. His hand is on Goodsir, and he silently says something to him before Goodsir stands. Unlike with the other deaths, Tom is no longer directing his attention on the bodies, but on the people who are dealing with them.

Further on, he privately speaks with Crozier about Armitage’s involvement in Hickey’s earlier plot. Once more, he’s on Crozier’s side completely, which Crozier affirms for him, saying that he trusts him and does not want to put him in a position where he feels like he can’t speak. He says they’ll work together, and thanks Tom, earning a smile out of him.

D’awwww.

But back with his death symbolism, Tom is the first shown to be handling Morfin’s body, drawn into sharp focus against the corpse.

He’s responsible for the handling and burial, but rather than appearing nervous or upset about his job, he handles it as he did with Hornby’s body. It’s a job to do, and one that he doesn’t appear to mind doing anymore. He helps dig Morfin’s grave, juxtaposed with shots and conversation of Crozier talking about the lead in the cans that led to Morfin’s madness and death.

The episode ends with Jopson’s promotion and the start of Hickey’s bloody mutiny, in a way signaling the beginning of the end.

Tom doesn’t appear for a portion of Ep. 8 (”Terror Camp Clear”), removed from Irving’s violent death where he probably would have been before, and instead placed in the silent, mournful atmosphere of the dead Netsilik group.

He’s also removed from the general chaos of the imaginary raid on Terror Camp, but appears in probably one of the most pivotal and brilliantly-arranged scenes that he gets in the entire show.

The Tuunbaq attacks in full force, ripping the camp asunder, causing so much chaos that the mutineers manage to get away. Men are killed left and right, gruesomely torn apart. The fog makes it difficult to see what’s happening and where, and so only the sounds of roaring and screaming indicate what is happening around them.

And then there’s Tom.

He’s scared. Of course he is. He’s seen what the Tuunbaq can do, and he knows it’s coming. All he can do is tell the men with him to get down and out of sight, while he stands.

Trembling, he raises his gun and waits for the inevitable. He was on deck with they shot the Tuunbaq with the cannon, and he knows that even then, it got away. He knows its size and what it’s capable of doing. His gun will do nothing to it, and he knows this. All he can do is buy the men time and take at least one shot.

Tom Hartnell literally faces down death itself, and does not back away.

The camera pans in on him, drawing into focus how he steels himself, furrowing his brows, keeping his aim steady. If anything, this shot establishes his bravery in full detail. And then--

A rocket is launched at the Tuunbaq from behind -- completely parallel to Tom. In a similar focused shot is Fitzjames.

Complete with the same steely resolve and surety, establishing his own bravery. With him on one side and Tom on the other, the Tuunbaq is caught in a perfect intersection of selflessness and courage, even when no one’s around to witness it (”A man like me will do amazing things to be seen.”).

Ep. 9 (”The C, The C, The Open C”) opens with Lady Franklin formally, but with Tom and Golding on the Arctic side, dealing with the dead in the day after the attack on Terror Camp.

Once again, Tom is no longer present during the deaths, but is dealing with the aftermath. He offers to help Golding move the body. Golding wonders after the identity of the body, clearly shaken by what he’s seen. But Tom, turning his focus way from the corpse, puts his hand on Golding’s arm to comfort him, as he did with Goodsir.

“That won’t change what we do for him.”

It’s no longer a matter of the how’s and why’s, but rather how the men move on. Tom has come to represent something so much more in death than its execution. His own grief was mired in the memory of his brother and what was done to his body. Lashing out, curling into himself, allowing others to control his path, and then finding his own way to redemption, Tom has made the full walk of his own sorrow and gone through its stages, coming out on the other side with the sense of mind to help others cope with their losses.

Then, he’s standing before the row of the dead, hands respectfully folded in front of him. He’s in their presence again, but not in the violent hour of their death, but again, in the aftermath.

Crozier’s speech is examined so, so gorgeously in this post, with the words “courage” and “the end” focused on Tom. @theiceandbones also pointed out (and subsequently broke my heart) that after Crozier mentions bringing home the names of the dead so that their loved once can find solace, Tom’s bottom lip is trembling. I fully believe in his character, Jack Colgrave Hirst chose to keep the real Thomas Hartnell’s life in mind, thinking that he was going to have to go back to their mother with news of his brother’s death. He embodies this concept so well in that moment.

After Fitzjames’ death, Tom is seen again in that same role.

He’s at the center of the shot with Fitzjames’ body, sewing him into his shroud, surrounded and at the center of the focus of their party. He’s either volunteered or been chosen to the handle the body, which he does respectfully. As Shannon, my brilliant cohort noticed:

He’s working diligently and carefully. And again, it won’t change what he does for him.

Tom also helps with Peglar, who he has been shown with multiple times since the very first episode, possibly suggesting that they’ve been friends all along.

He helps lift Peglar into Bridgens’ arms, clearly worrying for him.

He’s not shown during Peglar’s death, but he helps handle him, allowing him to rest a little easier before he quietly passes on. Compared to what’s been happening in the mutineer camp, what Tom’s witnessing is a gentle passing of people.

It’s the last scene that stings the worst, as Crozier’s group is confronted by the mutineers, including Des Voeux, Hodgson, and Manson.

Des Voeux’s gun misfires, hitting Tom square in the chest.

Tom’s own death is not through the Tuunbaq, or through any of Hickey’s machinations, or anything more than an accident. It’s quick, but painful. Crozier kneels beside him, stroking his hair, comforting him as Tom’s done for others before. The next few lines speak for themselves.

It’s the end of Tom’s redemption, a sign of his bravery, of his own recovery and progress. Crozier calls him son, affirming a bond between them. Tom is not dying alone. Instead, he has someone at his side who cares for him, just as Tom had been for his own brother only a few years before.

He holds on, struggling against the agony of his wound, until Crozier, eyes filling with tears, lets him go with one phrase -- one that includes something that hasn’t been mentioned since Ep. 1.

John Hartnell hasn’t been mentioned since the first episode, and it’s been several years at that point since his death. But Crozier knows what Tom’s been through, and he’s certainly seen his displays of grief and development. If anything would cause Tom to let go, this would be it. With it, Tom goes quietly in only a few seconds. He goes without a sound, simply closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

Des Voeux, shaken, asks Crozier to stand up. With it, Crozier does Tom a final respect by asking Little to bury him, and to live. Tom’s body is kept out of sight completely, not seen again.

After his death, the others go quickly. By the time of Ep. 10, it’s almost wholesale loss, between Goodsir’s heroic suicide, the Tuunbaq, and others just disappearing into the mists of the Arctic. But Tom’s character appears to have represented a balance, showing grief and loss, but also recovery and redemption. He appears with nearly every major death in the show, going from anxious and shaken to brave and kind, more eager to help those left in the wake of death, making him the perfect representation to the concepts of loss, grief, and recovery for The Terror.

#amc the terror #terror blogging #thomas hartnell #jack colgrave hirst #meta #long post #really really long post #i just really love him a lot #this was originally titled THE TOM HARTNELL GRIM REAPER THEORY

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50thirdand3rd · 5 years

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Writer, producer, Poptone drummer, and co-founding member of Tones On Tail and Love And Rockets takes us back to his Bauhaus roots with The Bela Session EP and his new coffee table book, Bauhaus Undead and teases a few hints at what he has in store for 2019!

Bauhaus – photo by Graham Trott

Kevin Haskins, the elusive Bauhaus drummer is quietly powerful behind his placid, penetrating expression. The jazz trained boyish younger Haskins brother who drew more inspiration from Stephen Morris than Gene Krupa paid his dues in bands with older brother, David J. before forming what would eventually become Bauhaus with friend and fellow art student, Daniel Ash and Daniel’s friend, Peter Murphy. The band’s chemistry was instant and Bauhaus began playing shows wherever they could and on January 26, 1979, the band recorded their iconic debut single, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” at Beck Studios in Wellingborough a mere six weeks after forming the group.”Bela” was just the beginning and soon Bauhaus found fame and an early fan in the late John Peel who kept the band in heavy rotation on his legendary Radio 1 program. By 1980, the band released their groundbreaking debut LP In The Flat Field to mixed reviews further solidifying their status as post-punk icons with their dark fusion of glam, punk, jazz, dub, and disco and gained a rabid cult following among the cool kids in black on both sides of the pond.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0bLCILyVRk%5B/embedyt%5D

Shortly after Bauhaus called it quits in 1983, Kevin and Daniel continued a fruitful collaboration in the short-lived and lightyears ahead of its time, Tones On Tail with bassist and former Bauhaus roadie, Glenn Campling. TOT scored a dancefloor hit in the US with their 1984 “Lions” b-side “Go!”.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TJC48BRBn8%5B/embedyt%5D

Two years later, Kevin and Daniel reunited with David J. to form Love And Rockets, who found success with early singles “Ball of Confusion” and “No New Tale To Tell” before scoring a breakout hit with their ubiquitous 1989 single “So Alive” which spent 20 weeks at #3 on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L41MhFPU9s%5B/embedyt%5D

After 40 years of forward motion with not one but two highly influential post-Bauhaus bands, Kevin takes us back to his Bauhaus roots with his new coffee table book, Bauhaus – Undead “The Visual History and Legacy of Bauhaus” and The Bela Session EP which features four previously unreleased tracks along with the iconic 9:37 opus that started it all.

Photo: Jenna Putnam

50thirdand3rd: So, can we talk about Bauhaus Undead?

Kevin Haskins: A good friend of mine who works at Cleopatra, Matt Green, suggested the idea. He knew that I had this big container full of memorabilia. I was the guy who collected everything, kept everything. So, he says, “Why don’t you make a coffee table book?” “Matt, that’s a great idea.” And then he made me an offer to put it out on Cleopatra and I just felt that I would like to self-publish it. So he said, “Of course, that’s your decision. Go ahead and good luck. Wish you all the best.” And so, I went off on my merry way and so along into the process, I ran into this guy, Jeff Anderson, at gigs. And it seemed like fate kind of brought us together. On the third meeting, I said, “What do you do?” And he said, “I make box sets and re-releases for bands and so, I went to his house and I saw these amazing box sets from Sigur Rós and Roger Waters and Beck, Nine Inch Nails, The Pixies – beautiful ones! I thought “This was a no-brainer, let’s do the book together!” He was really excited working with me on that. He brought in a great design team and off we went. And I just sat down and started writing stories which I’ve never done, before.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aOk0A4pnN8%5B/embedyt%5D

So, it all took about two years and we designed this huge book with a slipcase and it was this huge, crazy size book! Basically, we really didn’t figure out how much it was gonna cost to make and how much it was gonna cost to ship and Jeff really wanted to use his regular printers in LA. Anyway, a month before, we put on a pre-sale to raise money to have it made. A month before the pre-sale ended, I found out how much it was gonna cost to have it made and it was ridiculous, it was like over $100 to make, in the end! (laughs) I spoke to publishers after the fact, who were very impressed with how many I sold, because it was like $180 or something. But I didn’t raise enough money to get it made, so I had to refund all of the money. Then I went to a bunch of publishers and got a lot of interest from boutique publishers, but they really didn’t have the means to do what I wanted to do, but I did decide to make this book a regular size book, so that we could sell it at a decent price and make it cheap for people.

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And basically, about two years or three years after Matt gave me the idea, I went around his house and he showed me a book that Cleopatra had just put out. I think it was Hanoi Rocks or something and he said it was a great deal for this band it was really great deal and I said, “Oh Matt, could you do the same deal for me, please!” Because I was back at square one, I had nothing, but I did have a book already made, all the layout was all done, all the stories were written, it was proofread. It was just ready to print. So, I was kinda handing him a gift, really, on a plate and he said, “Kevin, I think we can do your good deal.” Which they did and it ended up coming out on Cleopatra, so I did this complete circle, so, now I know everything about printing and shipping and fulfillment companies.

50thirdand3rd: You got a real education on the process.

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, it was a mixture of extreme pain and pleasure. (laughs) I’m really proud of it, it’s over 300 pages and it has some great content. We were all very art inclined so we do a lot of drawings and doodles and I kept all those and I think that’s the stuff that’s very interesting for people. Very personal stuff like that and handwritten lyrics. And when we went to shop “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”, Daniel wrote out all the names of all the companies we went to, EMI and Polydor, all the huge companies and what they said. They all rejected us, so he wrote a kind of note to them, it’s very scruffy, very Daniel and all over the place and there’s drawings of Bubble men all over it. It ended up the last piece that went into the book. I was kind of done and he had just come back from England and raided his mum’s attic and said, “Look what I found!” I’m like, “Oh my god, I’ve gotta get that in the book, it’s so cool!” So, it’s got a lot of funny stories and great memorabilia.

50thirdand3rd: Awesome! I understand you did a book signing at Rough Trade in Brooklyn, this past summer, was it? How did that go?

Kevin Haskins: It went great! We were on tour with Poptone and I set up an In-store for my daughter’s band, Automatic, they were supporting us.

50thirdand3rd: And that’s your daughter, Lola’s band, right?

Kevin Haskins: Yes, Lola (Dompé), Izzy (Glaudini), and Halle (Saxon Gaines). And then after they played, I did a signing and it was nice, you know, it was my first time in Brooklyn if you can believe that.

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We’re playing rough trade tn bbs come through

A post shared by Automatic (@automatic_band) on Jun 29, 2018 at 1:15pm PDT

50thirdand3rd: Wow, how’d you like it?

Kevin Haskins: We loved it. My wife came out and we rented a really nice Airbnb and got to really walk around, check it out.

Photo: Jenna Putnam

50thirdand3rd: Very cool! How’s the response been with the book?

Kevin Haskins: Really good. Yeah, it’s been great, people love it! I don’t wanna boast but I’m very proud of it and people respond really well to it. There’s a lot of good content in it and I was really happy with the quality and the printing and everything.

50thirdand3rd: It sounds awesome and you had some of the other Bauhaus historians kind of help out, too, with the timeline, did I read that right?

Kevin Haskins: Oh yeah, a guy called Andrew Brooksbank and also I should mention Vincent Forrest and they were very helpful. Andrew is kind of the Bauhaus historian and when our old label, Beggars Banquet, put out re-releases, he always writes the sleeve notes. He’s an extremely organized guy and he’s a good writer and he created this timeline of every show and every radio, like interviews, TV appearances, that type of thing. So, that was really so valuable to me because I can’t remember what I was doing.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5UFgXuz1Gc%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: Right, because you were like in the center of the storm.

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, I was. And he was a great resource and I think he gave me a few items. A few scans of this and that and also helped out in that way. So, it was nice to have fans included, there were people whose names, sorry, I can’t remember, right now, who sent me some great pieces to put in, so it was nice to include people, as well, like that.

50thirdand3rd: That’s really exciting! Seeing it all together in the context of a timeline, how was that? I imagine that would have to be a little awe-inspiring, like “Wow, I did all this!” Like, looking back on it?

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, I’m surprised at how many shows we played because I didn’t think we played that many, but, we did. We really worked! We started from nowhere and the only really then to get known was to play, you know, to get the ball rolling. So, there was a two year period where we were just slogging away. Just trying to get shows when we started, we played in the weirdest places. (laughs) Like, I got a gig, there’s a little village called Ilchester and it was a Sunday lunchtime community center and it was bright sunshine. It was in a modern kind of bland hall with big glass windows, very bright, and there were kids running around playing, parents just eating, and Bauhaus were playing to these people. It was completely ridiculous! And then Peter got us a similar thing but in a working men’s club on a lunchtime.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5DUQuY1mf4%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: Oh, wow! How was that?

Kevin Haskins: After our first number, this old character, this old guy who worked there came up to us and he said, “What are you trying to do? Blow the bloody roof off? Play something that people know! You know, something we can tap our foot to!” (Laughs)

50thirdand3rd: Character building, I imagine!

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, blow the bloody roof off! So, we would play anywhere we could. Actually, and I wrote about this in the book. Really, our first show, I think went kind of undocumented. Daniel got us this rehearsal room at a teacher training college in Northampton and we were in a kind of portacabin, this kind of a prefabricated classroom, you know, it was kind of like a trailer.

50thirdand3rd: Oh, okay.

Kevin Haskins: It was outside the main building, just adjacent. And it was adjacent to the student union room where they would have bands play and they had a bar. It was winter and it was snowing, I remember, and The Pretenders were playing that night. So, we were rehearsing late afternoon and we kind of finished and we were like, “Is anybody going to see The Pretenders?” “Yeah, I am.” Kinda fancied that and then one of us had this idea that why don’t we just follow them? “What do you mean?” So, the next minute, we open the door, dragging up our gear up this, it was like an incline, covered in snow, dragging all our gear, and there was the French door, like this big glass door that opened up and we just opened the door and we just set up really fast in the corner of the room and by this time it was like 7:00. People were just coming in and The Pretenders had just done their soundcheck and we just set up and started playing. So, a crowd appeared around us, and we got about two or three songs out of the way, we didn’t have many songs, we had just started, and the student union came up and he was like, “Wait a minute, stop, what are you guys doing?” We’re like, “Oh, we’re the support band.” And he’s like, “Really?” And we’re like, “Yeah, we’re the support band.” And he was like scratching his head and like looking at us very suspiciously and he turned away and he walked away and he was kind of looking over his shoulder. And we sold it and then we’re like, “Get into the next song!” And we managed to get two more songs done and then he brought everyone from the student union and they shut us down. They said, “Hey, you’re not the support band!” So, we supported The Pretenders, punk rock Guerrilla style. (Laughs)

50thirdand3rd: That’s awesome!

Kevin Haskins: I’m sure Chrissie Hynde would’ve appreciated that. I don’t know if she heard that we did that.

50thirdand3rd: I hope she finds out!

Kevin Haskins: We were dying to play, all we wanted to do was play.

50thirdand3rd: That’s really cool! So, The Bela Session EP you recently put out, could we talk a little bit about that? I understand it was the first time you guys worked with Derek Tompkins. Like, he was really important to like Bauhaus and he produced Love And Rockets, too, right? Like he was Engineer/Producer at Beck Studios for you guys, can you tell me a little bit about that?

Kevin Haskins: Sure, we’ll start with Derek. I think we went to Beck before Bauhaus, we were in other bands, like The Craze, Jack Plug and The Sockettes, these kinds of new wave bands, but it was Peter’s first time in the studio when we went with Bauhaus. And Derek was this amazing character. I always kind of viewed Derek as our George Martin. Mainly because he was older than us and he really didn’t know anything about fads or fashions which was good because he just approached it from what sounds exciting and what sounds good. He just instinctively knew how to produce bands and also he was a bit of a rogue, he was a really funny guy, very smart, very opinionated, a bit of a rebel. And he had a great stutter, he stuttered and just consumed endless cups of coffee and cigarettes. Like really unhealthy, but he kind of like built the desk. He built of a lot of the equipment in the studios.

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So, anyway, The Bela Session was the idea of Andrew Brooksbank. He emailed me one day and he said, “What do you think about this idea? Why don’t you release the entire recording from the day you recorded ‘Bela Lugosi’s Dead’?” Three of the songs had never been released and I just said, “This is a brilliant idea! I can’t believe no one had thought about it, before!” And he said, “Yeah, it would be the holy grail of the band’s fans.” And I said, “Marvelous idea!” And for some reason, he had the original 1/4” tape and box. I don’t know how these guys get hold of these things, you know, I know they’re in good hands. And so, his idea was to use a scan of the tape box and it’s to the cover and I later thought, it would be great for the inner sleeve. So, that’s what the inner sleeve is and you can actually see the front and back of the original tape box. It’s marvelous, it’s got the aged patina and the picks, crossing things out and notes, so it’s a wonderful thing just to view.

50thirdand3rd: That’s really cool!

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, and just for the cover we came up with the idea of just doing a negative of the original cover, so, it’s white on black and yeah, so it has three unreleased songs and they’re interesting to hear because, you know, some of them, one of them, in particular, I think “Some Faces” doesn’t sound like Bauhaus, at all. It’s kind of a chirpy, bright sort of a new wave song, but it’s interesting to listen because you can kind of see a bit of an evolution. Right, like this is us. We had only formed about six weeks before, I think. So, it captures the band in a period of its formative period.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vV772Ht1Sys%5B/embedyt%5D

And we ended up going with Leaving Records which are an imprint of Stones Throw and they did a marvelous job, I think. They really chose a great kind of engineer and they’ve really been wonderful, I’m so happy with the product and also Bela hasn’t been available on vinyl for, I don’t know, twenty years or something crazy. It’s really nice to have it in record racks, again. And I just remembered another story from that day. So, “Bela” is about nine minutes long, but we actually laid down eleven or twelve minutes.

50thirdand3rd: Oh wow!

Kevin Haskins: And we kind of listened back and we thought, “This is a little bit too long.” And we could kind of imagine if we cut three minutes out of this, we’d probably be good. And Derek said, “I..I can do that!” And we were kind of naive and it was probably only our second or third time, Peter’s first time in the studio. And he (Derek) disappeared and he came back with a little razor blade and he got the tape and he laid it down and we were like looking at him like, “What’s he doing?” And then he began bringing the blade down towards the tape and we all knew we had recorded something really special and he was gonna cut the tape and we were like, “No! Stop!” “What are you doing?”

50thirdand3rd: Gasp!

Kevin Haskins: Then he like turned around and he’s like saying, “What’s your problem?” And he explained that he’s done this many times, before and not to worry, you know, you can always put it back together, again. And he did a great edit, you can’t hear the edit if you really listen out for it, though. He did a very good job.

50thirdand3rd: That’s awesome! So, if I can nerd out on you, for a sec, I know John Peel was like one of the first people to really play “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” on his show. Could you tell me a little bit about getting to go to John Peel’s studio?

Kevin Haskins: Sure, yeah. I actually devoted a story to John in my book. I cannot stress how important he was to bands such as us and I guess, after us. I mean, the airwaves were really, this was pre-internet, of course. The airwaves were really controlled just by the BBC. There were a couple of pirate stations, Radio Powerline and Radio Luxembourg that you could tune into and that was free radio but the BBC really controlled everything. They had John Peel on at 10 o’clock at night and they probably weren’t really listening to what he was doing. (Laughs) And his taste was just remarkable and I remembered he kept devoting his two-hour show to punk rock and in ’76, I think “New Rose” by The Damned had just come out and you know, there weren’t many punk records, back then, right at the beginning. So, he did this whole show and put bands that like influenced this new movement. So, there’s The Stooges and the MC5, bands like that and then he played every punk single that was out and it was a wonderful show. And he got a lot of hate mail, apparently, from hippies of the old guard saying, “How can you be playing this rubbish?” But he went on undeterred, he wouldn’t listen to anybody, he just played what he liked. So, he was invaluable to getting bands known. And it really helped us and a load of other bands.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMuB2PjjRic%5B/embedyt%5D

So, anyway, we heard “Bela Lugosi” and I think we just drove down to London, which I think was like an hour and a half’s drive and we went to the BBC Studio building and went to reception and we said, ”We want to see John Peel” and the receptionist looked at us like, “Who…Are you kidding me?” And she said, “Oh, well, I’ll call up.” And she did and his producer said, “Oh, show them up. It’s fine” which was remarkable, really. He was in the middle of a show, so, they let us come up and to us, we were in awe. It was amazing, we were actually in his studio with John and he offered us some red wine and we had a little red wine in BBC paper cups and gave him the record and he kind of sent us on our way pretty fast. He told us he’d play it and I remember, you know, when he played it for the first time, we knew that this night was gonna do it! We all lived in this house 37 Adams Avenue, it was like a little terraced house in town and you know, we would cook these awful meals with like vegetables because we were on the dole and we didn’t have much money. And it was freezing cold in this place and it was kind of haunted, it was kind of in a slum (laughs) but we were kids, it didn’t matter. But I remember we were all huddled around this transistor radio, listening to the show when he played our song. That moment is just imprinted in my mind because it was just remarkable to hear your music coming out of a radio, you know, it was just so exciting and it was like a benchmark moment. So, now, I remember that really clearly and yeah, I paid homage to him in my book and wrote a nice piece about him.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMLNwT4v5Rc%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: So, I’ve gotten really hooked on Poptone, recently and I was watching the tour livestreams you guys were doing on Facebook from last year. It looks like you guys were having fun, especially with the fans. Can you tell me a little more about how those tours have been going?

Kevin Haskins: Well, it was great but we kind of wrapped it up, over the summer. Basically, we kind of exhausted where everywhere people wanted us to play. It was great, it was so much fun! You know, Daniel’s still a very close friend of mine and we always have a laugh hanging out, we got on really well and then I was so glad to have my daughter involved (Diva Dompé). She plays bass and keyboards and backup vocals and she was amazing, she really brought so much to that project, I felt.

Photo: Paul Rae

50thirdand3rd: Yeah, she’s rad!

Kevin Haskins: She had big shoes to fill, she was playing my brother’s bass lines, Glenn Campling’s amazing bass lines, I mean I can’t say enough great things about Glenn’s playing in terms of what he brought to Tones On Tail. Like, those bass lines are just remarkable, there’s just so simple but so powerful, you know, kind of like riffs and so it was it was a great pleasure to play that music. Yeah, I knew that would be an attractive thing for fans just because we only played one little tour over a year and that was in the UK, so you know, it was fun for us to play those songs, again.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwYq2FfsBKo%5B/embedyt%5D

And I think people really love to hear them, we had a great crew, just like a small family, and we had a marvelous time. I was really taken aback in a marvelous way with the audiences who came out to see us. They were so appreciative and towards the end, I would out after the show to the merch table and sell my book, Bauhaus Undead by Kevin Haskins, *plug*. And then I’d get to meet all these wonderful people and they were so happy and appreciative that we were doing it, so it was like a whole celebration.

It was marvelous but it’s kind of on the back burner, now. I mean it is something that we could pick up, again. We did record an album, you know, it was kind of a retrospective project, just for people who were unaware, we were playing the music from Bauhaus, Love And Rockets, and Tones On Tail and we recorded an album. We did it as a Part-Time Punks session, Part-Time Punks radio station (KXLU) in LA and then Michael Stock he also puts a club night on and he’s a wonderful guy. So, we just kind of played pretty much live and put the songs down and that’s been released out on Cleopatra Records and so, you can go to Bandcamp and buy that or listen to it.

Poptone poster by Paul Rae

50thirdand3rd: Can we talk a little about the FOXES TV show you’ve got coming up and how you got involved in that?

Kevin Haskins: Sure, yeah! So, I met Tina and Julian (de la Celle), they are the creators of the show. I met them at one of their events. They put on events around Los Angeles, they get local musicians, they’ve done kind of thematic events where they portrayed Andy Warhol’s Factory, they had a bunch of young bands get together and play Velvet Underground songs. They did the same with CBGB’s and the Bat Cave, they’re really nice people, they love music and fashion, it’s such a strong passion for them. They have a magazine called FOXES and it’s a beautiful magazine, comes out twice a year, and they get really great photographers to shoot for them and they do interviews, so, I did an interview about my book, Bauhaus Undead, my coffee table book, plug! plug!

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50thirdand3rd: Right, yeah!

Kevin Haskins: There’s a singer from the New York Dolls who goes under the name, Buster Poindexter, now, and does kind of a lounge act, he was in the issue. I think Duff from Guns ’n’ Roses and they have these great fashion spreads. It’s shot very beautifully, kind of cinematic and stylish, stylized. So, they decide to turn the magazine into a TV show because there’s nothing really to watch like that, you know. So, anyway, they approached me around September time, last year and asked me if I wanted to be a producer and music supervise and I thought it was an exciting new challenge. So, we just kind of went on from there and the three of us kind of learned how to navigate the industry and what you have to do to get a TV show made. So, it’s taken us this long to really figure that and so we made like a great concept sizzle reel where we’ve taken slotage from other shows like The Tube and fashion show footage and just still photography and it really sort of represents the aesthetic of the show. And then we worked together a treatment which is kind of PDF, you do a similar thing, just for people who don’t know what treatments are, you explain what you’re going to do, you’ll explain what the episode will look like, and the sequence of events during that episode. You put bios from everyone who’s attached to the project. Your dream hosts, presenters, so there you go! So, when Richard submitted that to the network to my agency and we’re now waiting to hear back.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cd1LlXP_pk%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: This sounds really cool! Can you tell me a little bit about what views can expect to hear and maybe see?

Kevin Haskins: Well, the original feel for the show is very rock and roll. Basically, Tina, Julian, and I, we love glam, punk, post-punk rock and roll, you know, that area of things. But what we’d really like to do is we’d really like to broaden it more, now. Hmm, I don’t know who would be on the first show, I know Tina loves Duran Duran, so our dream show would include them, maybe for an interview or performance. And the project has to depend on who’s available for the team.

50thirdand3rd: Of course.

Kevin Haskins: And we want to give space for unheard of bands that we really like. Actually, we did shoot my daughter’s band, Automatic.

50thirdand3rd: Oh, cool!

Kevin Haskins: They’re worth checking out. Also, there’s a band called POW! I would definitely have them on. Other LA bands, Froth, Numb.er, and then, I’d love to get Nick Cave on, for instance. You know, it’s really wide open but they’re the artists that come to mind, right now.

Photo: Jenna Putnam

50thirdand3rd: Cool, I can’t wait to check that out! So, do you have any other music projects coming up for this year?

Kevin Haskins: Well, I’ve actually been invited to kind of produce, also, I’ve been kind of involved in writing on another tv show and I can’t say much about it for obvious reasons, but it’s a comedy set in Los Angeles. One of my close friends has created it and helped me write it, now, which is something I’ve never ever done, before and it was challenging and it was fun, so, I’m excited about that. I feel that it could really work out well, so, a completely new thing, once again, like the FOXES TV thing. And I have a new musical project that I’m very excited about. I don’t know if I can say much about that, but, I’ll give you some cryptic hints. There’s primarily three of us and we’re looking for a vocalist, right now. We’ve put word out to who we really want. We’re going to be recreating music from the bands we were in and also creating new music, but the instrumentation is very particular and different from what you might expect. (Laughs) And I think I’m going to leave it at that, but it’s a teaser and you’re really the first person I’ve told about.

50thirdand3rd: Thank you very much! An Exclusive!

Kevin Haskins: And the way things are going, we’ve got quite a ways to go, there. We’re just starting out and we haven’t got a full band, yet, so it might be the fall until we play or release something but we are going to work on a release and I’m really excited about it. It’s got great potential.

50thirdand3rd: Very cool!

Pick up a copy of Kevin Haskins’ Bauhaus Undead from Cleopatra, Rough Trade, and Amazon. Pick up Poptone’s self-titled LP and follow Kevin Haskins Official Facebook and Instagram for the latest on FOXES TV, updates on his next series, and more on his upcoming music project —You read it first, here at 50thirdand3rd!

Follow Kevin Haskins:

https://twitter.com/kevinmhaskins

https://www.instagram.com/bauhausundeadbook/

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNKf_DvhGkidQFDmnoxyO3g

http://poptone.bandcamp.com

Follow Foxes Magazine:

https://www.facebook.com/FoxesMagazine

https://twitter.com/FOXES_Magazine

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAC2rwsSytKP6kf-olCZ4Lw/videos

https://www.instagram.com/foxes_magazine

http://foxesmagazine.tumblr.com

50THIRDAND3RD INTERVIEW: Kevin Haskins Writer, producer, Poptone drummer, and co-founding member of Tones On Tail and Love And Rockets takes us back to his Bauhaus roots with…

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fandom-imagines · 7 years

Text

The man behind the mask: Chapter Eighteen

The man behind the mask masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock X Reader

I usually update this on my wattpad a few days before I post it here so if you want to read these chapters early, you can do so here: X

Before I start this chapter I wanna tell you that I wrote two long-ass chapters before deciding they were stupid so now these chapters go in a completely different direction than I had originally wrote lmao. Figured you don’t want more drama right now lolol~

Gonna try and make the next few chapters relaxed, some fluff and stuff before I move on to the scandal in Belgravia.

This took me so long oops

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Sherlock slid to the side of me, turning to face me, his hand running through my hair.

I loved moments like this.

Moments where nothing else mattered, it was just Sherlock and me.

Alone and vulnerable.

“I love you” He whispered, shocking me.

Neither of us had ever said those words before, even though I knew I thought it.

“I love you too” I smiled, pressing a small chaste kiss on his lips as the two of us fell in to a deep slumber.

The two of us awoke the following morning to shouting coming from the lounge.

“Morning” Sherlock whispered, a slight smile on his face.

“Morning” I smiled, slowly sitting up.

“What’s going on out there?” I asked, curious as I looked towards the door, yelling still audible.

“No idea, let’s go see” He said, suddenly jumping up, throwing me his shirt, before quickly putting on his robe.

“What’s going on?” Sherlock asked, spotting Lestrade pacing in the middle of the lounge.

“A dangerous criminal has escaped!” He yelled, finally standing still and facing the two of us.

Sherlocks face suddenly lit up like a child on Christmas morning.

“Sit, Graham. Tell me more” He said, pushing Lestrade into the nearby chair

Greg sighed, not even bothering to correct him before going into details.

Deciding to get changed and head and back to the motel, I quickly walked to Sherlocks room, changing before heading out to go back to my room.

By the time I got to the motel it was around 11.

I decided to take a quick shower before heading out to pick up some food, figuring Sherlock and John hadn’t ate yet.

As I was waiting in line to pick up some food, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

‘Hey, you up for drinks tonight?’

It was my friend from high-school. I remember her telling me that she was coming to London to meet her online boyfriend and possibly move in with him.

‘Sure 😊’

Smiling to myself, I ordered something random that sounded nice and three cups of coffee before heading back to Baker Street.

By the time I arrived, John was back and Sherlock was dressed, the two of them looking at various papers on the wall.

“Hey, guys. Have you eaten?” I asked, kicking the door closed behind me.

“Not yet” John said, looking towards me and shooting me a small smile.

“Well, here” I said, handing him a coffee and offering him some food.

John smiled at me, taking a sip of his coffee before turning back to the board.

“What’s going on?” I asked, moving to stand beside Sherlock who was staring intently at the board.

“Jake Christo, escaped from prison last night after threatening to murder a guard if he didn’t let him leave. No leads so far” Sherlock stated, pointing at various pictures around the wall.

Looking over the pieces of evidence, I ran through various theories of where he could be.

His first kill was at Golden Gate bar.

Various kills there, probably sentimental.

He left after threating a guard, did the guard let him out? Possible, but not extremely likely.

All his murders had been at various bars but always connected, moving from one bar to the next in a circle like motion.

“Try there” I said, pointing to a bar in the middle of all the bars his kills have been at.

“The bars his kills have been at surround this one bar, it’s possible his next kill before he was caught was going to be there. Maybe a massacre” I said, turning and grabbing my coffee.

“Getting him back would be one thing, but finding out how he escaped is the next” Sherlock said, standing onto the couch to take down and article from one of his past murders.

“If we get him back, you could just question him, right?” John asked, looking between the two of us. Sherlock balancing in the couch, one foot on the back and one on the seat and me casually sipping my coffee.

“Yeah, but he could lie so he could attempt to escape again” I explained, looking up at Sherlock who was deep in thought, presumably thinking of how he could have escaped.

“He’s most likely been planning this for a while. He could have been working with the guard” Sherlock said, eyes scanning the papers in front of us.

“The guard could have then reported what the escapee said to him so it would clear him of suspicion.” I continued, watching as Sherlock nodded in agreement before grabbing his coat.

“Let’s go” He said, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

“Where?” John asked, confused.

“To question the guard, of course” Sherlock replied, standing in front of the door waiting for John and me.

“Why can’t Lestrade do it?” John grumbled, grabbing a pair of shoes.

“He won’t do it right” Sherlock huffed at how slow John was.

“Finally!” He said, rushing down the steps once John was ready.

“Ah, George” Sherlock said as we walked into Lestrade’s office.

He was currently sat in his chair, feet propped up on the desk and eating a jam doughnut.

“Greg!” He said through a bite.

I laughed to myself, watching as he quickly swallowed and removed his feet from the desk to face us fully.

“What do you need?” He asked, glancing at the large stack of paperwork on the desk.

“We need to talk to the guard that spoke to Jake” Sherlock announced, as Lestrade stood up leading us to the guard.

“So, you didn’t have any involvement in the escape?” John asked, looking over at Mr Garner who sat opposite us, laid back in his seat with his arms crossed.

Obvious signs of being defensive.

“Of course, not” He sighed, looking towards Sherlock who was staring intently at the man, watching his every move.

Occasionally he would glance over at me, to see I was doing the same, obviously making him uncomfortable.

“You don’t seem sure of that fact, Mr Garner” I said, looking over him.

Married

Two children

Cheated once before

Liar

Used to be in a gang

“Well, I didn’t help him with the plan” He stated.

“The plan?” I smirked, watching his facial expression drop and fear to quickly flash in his eyes.

“Okay, maybe I knew a bit about it” He sighed, turning his attention away from us and to the table.

“A bit?”

“Maybe I purposely left his cell open and gave me the opportunity to escape” He said quickly, his words barely making sense.

“Why? Why help? What did you have to gain?” Sherlock asked, his gaze remaining on the man in front of us.

“He said he’d help with my son”

“Your son?”

The man sighed, a frown covering his lips as he most likely thought about the incident with his son.

“Some guys at his school are bullying him. He said he’d scare them tonight when they’re out with their parents”

“Oh great” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“I’m sure there was nothing suspicious about that” I said, jumping up from my seat.

“What time? Surely you don’t want them to die? Or if they are dead, you’ll be arrested for being an accomplice in murder.”

“A few hours? At the most”

Quickly, I darted out of the room, heading the grab a cab. I already knew what he looked like, so it should be easy enough.

Okay, it probably wasn’t a clever idea to come alone, but it was too late now.

As I stood in the corner of the bar, I watched the man enter, looking around for the boys.

I decided to not to confront him myself, I mean he’s a murderer for goodness sake.

Luckily for me, he didn’t approach the boy as soon as he entered the bar, which gave me time to wait for Lestrade and the officers.

Instead, he stood in the opposite corner of the bar, occasionally making eye contact with me, sometimes shooting me a smile.

Disgusting.

We remained like this for twenty minutes before he walked towards two boys who were waiting for someone, probably someone to buy them a drink.

I stood to the side for a moment, observing their actions before walking over.

“Is this man bothering you, boys?” I asked, looking over the two boys who had an uneasy look on their faces, looking towards the ground intently.

“Of course, I’m not ma’am, just wondering why these boys are here. They’re clearly underage” He said, smiling falsely at me.

By now, Lestrade, Sherlock and John had entered the bar, making eye contact with me before walking in with a few officers.

“Are you sure? They don’t seem too comfortable” I said, standing in front of the boys in a protective manner.

I didn’t know the boys, but I knew they were in danger.

Even though they had done wrong, they didn’t deserve to die. Not like this, not in pain. They were so young, where were the parents? Why did they let them out? Did they not know?

“I am sure, just worried”

Suddenly, two officers grabbed the man by the wrists, clicking some handcuffs on his wrists and leading him out, reciting the rehearsed explanation.

“You boys okay?” I asked, turning to the two who were both confused and slightly afraid.

“What just happened?” One of them asked.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” I said, forcing a smile not wanting to worry, or potentially scar them.

They nodded, thanking me before leaving the bar, discussing something.

It was still early by the time John, Sherlock and I left the bar, the three of us in silence, something not uncommon for us.

My phone beeped, breaking the silence.

‘Want me to pick you up?’

“Hey, you two go back. I’m going to meet my friend for a while” I said, smiling at the two men.

“You sure?” John asked, watching as I nodded.

“Who are you meeting?” Sherlock asked, turning to face me as I had stopped.

“Ava, she’s a friend from high school” I smiled, watching Sherlock nod.

“Goodnight, guys” I said, waving at the men walked to a cab.

‘Already there, I’ll wait outside’

It was around nine when Ava and I walked out of the bar, incredibly drunk.

“Where are the tunnels?” She laughed, gripping my arm as the two of us stumbled down the street looking for some supposedly haunted underground tunnels.

“Up here somewhere, I think.” I giggled, grabbing her wrist and running down the road, dodging everyone we saw.

“Is that a security guard?” She asked, brushing her long red hair away from her eyes.

Glancing behind, I spotted a man wearing, what I assumed was, a uniform.

“Probably” I said, before the two of us burst into laughter.

“This way” She said, pointing towards two elevators.

“Are those to the tunnels?” I asked, looking at the two contraptions that stood in front of us.

“Only one way to find out” She smirked, hitting the button multiple times like it would speed it up.

“Let’s go!” She cheered, the two of us clambering in and pressing the lowest button.

“Do you think this is illegal?” She asked, no regret in her eyes making me giggle.

“Probably”

“Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for us to drink before doing this” She chuckled, as she fell into the wall beside her.

“Who cares? Free will” I yelled, as the door opened revealing extremely creepy tunnels.

“Okay, so ghosties?” She smirked, running out of the elevator, almost tripping making me laugh.

“Come out, come out where ever you are” I yelled, not noticing the elevator close as I ran forward with Ava.

“How many people do you think died down here?” She gasped, running her hands along the cracked walls.

“Maybe us. What if we’re already dead?” I said, tripping onto the ground, pulling Ava with me, the two of us collapsing onto the ground, giggling.

A groaning noise echoed throughout the tunnels as the two of us stood up, turning to face each other.

“Call the Winchesters!” She screamed, running towards the noise.

Laughing, I quickly ran after her, jumping over rocks, trash and other things as I did so.

Back at Baker Street Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were sat in silence.

John typing up his latest blog post and Sherlock experimenting on something that only god knew.

The sound of Johns phone ringing broke the silence the two men had willingly fallen into.

“Heya Mr Hedgehog” A slurred voice called, one that John immediately recognised as Y/N’s.

“Y/N?” He asked, capturing Sherlocks attention as he walked into the room where John was sat.

Noticing the detectives’ presence, he pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker so he could hear.

“That’s me” She giggled.

“Why aren’t you calling from your phone?” John asked. It was now around one in the morning and he had remained awake so he could help her once she got back to Baker Street.

“Apparently the police don’t like you using your own.”

“The police? Y/N, where are you?” John asked, quickly jumping up and grabbing his shoes.

“The police station, of course, Johnny boy. Honestly, if you used your brain.” She giggled again.

“Stay where you are, me and Sherlock are coming to pick you up” He demanded.

“I can’t exactly go anywhere. I’m handcuffed. Tell Sherlock to wear his purple shirt, it’s extremely attractive” She chuckled, making the raven-haired man smirk, a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“What did you do?” John asked, while Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf.

A muffle voice could be heard through the phone, before Y/N spoke again.

“Gotta go Johnny boy, see you soon” She said, before the call cut off.

“What’s she gotten herself into?” John asked, mainly to himself.

“She’s drunk, who knows?” Sherlock said, a slight smirk on his lips.

“Dear god” John sighed, climbing into the nearest cab, wondering what the younger girl had done.

#Sherlock #Sherlock x reader #Sherlock imagine #Sherlock imagines #Sherlock x reader imagine #Sherlock x reader imagines #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes x reader #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Sherlock Holmes imagines #Sherlock Holmes x reader imagine #Sherlock Holmes x reader imagines #BBC Sherlock #BBC Sherlock x reader #BBC Sherlock x reader imagine #BBC Sherlock x reader imagines #BBC Sherlock imagine #BBC Sherlock imagines #Holmes

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mystery-moose · 7 years

Text

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (7/?)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

There was a part of Taako, still, that was dedicated to his self-preservation. Old habits being hard to break, it acted up from time to time. Right now, it said that he should never have come here, that he should have stayed back home and been content with dull days and duller nights waiting for Kravitz rather than put himself in the middle of some shit that wasn't even his business.

The rest of Taako told that part to sit down and shut the fuck up. That was then, this was now. He still wasn't sure exactly when or how it had happened, but it didn't matter — he was here for Angus, and that was that.

That didn't mean he wasn't cheesed as all hell.

"What the hell was that?!"

Angus sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, frowning at the hardwood floor. After they'd done what they could to help the fire brigade (which wasn't much) and given detailed statements to the Rockport militia, it had gotten late enough that the trains had stopped running. They were stuck in town, so they picked up a pair of rooms at one of the nicer inns to collect themselves.

"I don't know," he said, staring intently at nothing. "I can't figure it out."

"Well, I'll help you out, boy detective!" Taako said, pacing angrily by the window. "We nearly got roasted, is what!"

"But why?" Angus asked, still not looking at him. "Why kill Mr. Wendell? And why set a booby trap? If they wanted to destroy evidence, why not do it when they killed him? It doesn't make—"

"Stop getting hung up on the why!" Taako shouted, stomping in front of him with his hands on his hips. "Start thinking about the how! That was a seventh-level spell, homie! That shit don't grow on trees! Someone wanted us dead in a major way!"

Angus's brow rose. He straightened up and looked at Taako, somewhat startled. "You're right."

"'Course I'm right," Taako said, crossing his arms. He turned to pace back to the window. "Now let's go home."

There was a brief, confused pause. "What?"

"Home, boychik," Taako said, turning around. "That's what we're talking about, isn't it? Let's grab our ghoulies and get gone."

"I can't do that."

"Give me one good reason why."

Angus looked at him like he was crazy. "Taako, this is my job."

"It's a stupid picture of some birds, Angus!" Taako said, throwing his arms in the air. "It's not worth—" —you. "—all this!"

With a gentle sigh, Angus propped his elbows back on his knees. "I'm sorry I got you into this, sir. It's not your problem. You don't have to stay if you don't—"

"Oh, don't you fucking dare pull that line on me, kiddo," Taako said slowly, taking a step forward and leaning down to glare at Angus. "That's some Burnsides-brand horseshit, and it will never, ever work. Believe that."

They stared at each other. By degrees, Angus lowered his head, but not his gaze. "I'm not leaving, sir."

"Well, then neither am I!" Taako shouted quickly, before that little part of himself could gain a foothold. He straightened and crossed his arms. "And that's that!"

For a long moment, Angus regarded Taako from behind his glasses — when did he get so unflappable? where did that come from? — then, with a little huff, he smiled and looked down at the floor again.

"Thank you, sir."

Taako scoffed and resumed his pacing, somewhat less angry than before.

"You were right, though," Angus said. "I get too hung up on the why. That spell, you sound familiar with it."

Taako shrugged. "S'not that complicated."

"Describe it. How's it work, exactly?"

"It's a delayed conflagration spell," he said clinically, briefly allowing his ego to take pleasure in playing the expert. "You make a circle, and when something breaks the circle, the spell goes off. Catches the air above it on fire. Set it and forget it."

"So why didn't it go off when we entered the room?"

Taako furrowed his brow, shook his head. He was no detective, this wasn't his bag. How was he supposed to know why—

Oh.

"It only went off—"

"—when we left the circle," Angus said with an emphatic nod. "You saved me."

Again, Taako let his ego absorb that praise with gusto. He brushed his nails against his shirt. "I guess I did, huh?"

"How'd you know it was there?"

"Thought I smelled something, like charcoal. But it wasn't quite a smell, y'know?" Taako reached up and tapped his temple. "I cast True Sight, and then I saw it."

"Yeah, I remember smelling something burning..." Angus stroked his chin thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. "But I only smelled it after we came in."

"Could be entering the circle primed the spell, and leaving it was the trigger."

Angus looked up, startled once again.

"What?" Taako asked with a gentle smirk. "I'm not just a pretty face."

"Is that typical of that spell?"

Now, that Taako had to think about. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Not... really? I've never heard of it acting that way. But I mean, it makes sense, right?"

"Absolutely," Angus said, smiling again as he looked down at the floor. "So that's the how."

"Come again?"

"You said it yourself," Angus explained, clasping his hands together. "Seventh-level spells don't grow on trees. There can't be that many wizards in Rockport or Neverwinter who know how to cast that. Furthermore, the spell behaved atypically, which means it was modified. I'm no expert myself, but I know it takes a lot more effort to modify a spell than it does to cast the original. That narrows the pool even further."

"So we're not looking for a badass wizard, we're looking for an ultra-badass super-wizard," Taako said flatly. "Cool. Cool cool cool."

"And once we find the who, that'll lead us straight to the why." Angus stood from the bed and rested his hands on his hips with a grin. "We're one step closer to solving this mystery!"

"Joy of joys," Taako said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"C'mon, sir," Angus said, walking over and wrapping an arm around Taako's shoulders. "You have to admit, it's kind of fun."

"Oh, pumpkin," Taako sighed, putting his hand over Angus'. "Your idea of fun has never made a lick of sense to me."

Taako didn't need much sleep, being an elf, but he barely even tried that night. Too much adrenaline, too much nervous energy. It was pointless. So he tried his hand at meditating, a skill he'd been universally bad at for his entire life, and when that failed he pulled out his recipe book and poked at his notes on the sequel to sandwiches until Angus knocked on his door.

"I know where we need to go next!" he said as soon as Taako opened the door.

"And where's that, Agnes?" Taako asked with a sigh.

"There's someone in Rockport I know who can help us narrow our search. You know him too, actually."

Taako raised an eyebrow — did he know anyone in Rockport? — then quickly realized he didn't care. He shrugged and gathered up his purse and umbrella. "Alright, lead on, kemosabe."

The house was a reasonable walk from their inn, closer to the farmlands on the eastern edge of town. And it was definitely a house; there were no manors or apartments out here. A wide, one-and-a-half story home with a full flower bed, cheap pink flamingos on the lawn, a bunch of corny pinwheels in various designs, and a set of small railroad tracks circling the entire lawn. There was a mailbox with a tiny wooden man in a blue uniform on top. The name on the side said Percival.

Angus walked up and knocked on the door. Taako surveyed the scene around them with a grimace.

"This guy is gonna help us find a super-wizard?" he asked.

"He's the only person I know who really keeps up with the magic scene in Rockport."

Taako reached over and poked one of the flamingos on the nose. It rocked back and forth on one springy leg. "That's a little disappointing, kiddo, gotta say."

"Yeah, well," Angus sighed. "Like I said, I don't meet a lot of people outside of work."

The door opened. On the other side was a round human man with a great big bushy beard flecked with graying hairs. He looked to be in his forties, with big eyes, a large forehead, and some of the worst fashion sense Taako had ever seen. Seriously, the poor bastard look like he'd been thrown in a thrift store dumpster and rolled down a hill. It was almost upsetting to look at.

He looked between Taako and Angus curiously for a moment before he recognized them. Then he grabbed Angus' hand with both of his and shook it. "Oh my gosh, Angus McDonald! Holy crow, how long has it been?"

"A couple years, Percy," Angus said with a smile.

"Wow, yeah, it has been, huh?" said Percy, still shaking his hand. "You were looking for some fortune teller last time, right? Did you ever find her?"

"I did, actually."

Percy grinned. "Great! Super glad I could help!"

"You can let go of my hand now, Percy."

"Oh!" He dropped it immediately. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Angus gestured over his shoulder. "You remember Taako, too, right?"

Taako peered hard at Percy, stroking his chin. When he met his gaze, Percy smiled and extended a hand.

"Oh yeah, I sure do! Not a day I'll ever forget, right?"

Taako pursed his lips and tapped them thoughtfully with a finger. Then he shook his head. "Sorry. No idea."

"N-no?" Percy asked, a little sadly. Then he perked right up again. "Oh! I know! You'd remember my train name! It was Graham!"

Taako stared at him. Then, feigning recognition, he lied. "Oh, yes! Of course! Now I remember!"

Percy-Graham shook Taako's hand with both of his, then stepped inside. "Hey, c'mon in! I was just going to put on some tea! You like tea?"

"Sure, Percy," Angus said. "We won't be staying long, though, okay?"

"Of course! Of course!" Percy waved dismissively over his shoulder, shuffling off to the kitchen. "You're a busy young man, I know!"

Taako leaned over to Angus. "Who's this guy again?"

"Graham." Angus said. When that had no impact, he furrowed his brow at Taako. "From the Rockport Limited. One of the passengers that day?"

Taako stared at him.

Angus rolled his eyes and mumbled, "The juicy wizard."

"Ohhhh! That guy!" Taako laughed quietly. "Jeez, why didn't you say so?"

Juicy emerged from his kitchen with a platter full of tea, cups, and some of those little wafer cookies that tasted like cardboard and paper. He led them into the sitting room, and Taako had to fight not to sneer at the decor.

It was nothing but trains. Books about trains, souvenirs of trains, big metal gizmos which he could only assume were once parts of trains. There were model trains in various states of disassembly, along with sections of scale track against one wall. Newspaper articles about the trains were framed on the wall alongside paintings of trains. Very occasionally, Taako spotted something wizardly — a wand, a staff, a handful of spellbooks on an otherwise empty shelf — but it was vastly outnumbered by all the train shit.

"How's the Rockport Locomotive Society doing?" Angus asked politely, sitting down on the couch next to a pillow embroidered with little trains.

"Oh, great! Wonderful, even!" Juicy said, pouring them each some tea. "We're getting new members all the time! At last count, it was over a hundred!"

"People?" Taako asked in disbelief. Angus elbowed him.

Juice shrugged. "Well, I mean, not everyone comes to the meetings. And not everyone pays their dues on time... but the roster has over a hundred people on it! Sugar?"

Angus held up a hand. Taako waved him on until he'd put seven cubes in. He sipped at it gingerly, pinkie extended as his auntie had taught him, and very grudgingly admitted that Juice made a mean cup of Darjeeling.

"So!" Juice leaned back in his easy chair, one of the few things without a train on it in the whole house. "What can I help you with, Mr. McDonald?"

"I'll cut to the chase," Angus said, resting his saucer in his lap. "We're looking for someone. A wizard, or sorcerer. All we have to go on is their level of expertise."

"Well, there's not too many expert magicians in Rockport! And I know most of them through the Society," Juicy said. "What's the clue?"

"A seventh-level spell. Evocation magic. Altered to have unique properties."

Juicy nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed in thought. "Altered, you say?"

Angus nodded. Taako crossed his legs and noticed that the rug's pattern was nothing but tiny train tracks.

After a minute of careful thought, Juicy shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, son, I got no idea who that could be. There's very few people in Rockport who can cast seventh-level, and none of them specialize in Evocation."

"What about Neverwinter?" Angus asked.

"Neverwinter, huh?" Juice leaned forward and set down his saucer and cup. "That's a much bigger kettle of fish."

"Not what that means," Taako mumbled. Angus elbowed him again as Juice stroked a hand through his beard.

"There's a few I can think of," he said. "I don't know 'em except by reputation, though."

"That's okay, Percy," Angus said, pulling out his pen and notebook. "Anything you can tell us would be helpful."

Juicy started counting off fingers while Angus took notes. "Well, there's old man Dietrich. He runs a potion shop in the merchant quarter. Heard he can cast eighth-level. More of a Transmutation guy, though. There's Penelope, she's a stage performer, dabbles in Evocation and Illusion. But she's on tour, I think. And there's Holly! She's a retired adventurer, got a big place up in the noble quarter. Getting up there in years. And, well. There's the obvious."

"Obvious?" Taako asked.

Juicy nodded. "Lady Blisk."

Angus stared at Juice for a moment. Then his eyes widened and he slumped back in his seat. He looked both surprised and a little frustrated.

Taako furrowed his brow. "Sorry, some of us don't read Fantasy Us Weekly. Who's that?"

The boy ran a hand through his hair, and when he looked at Taako, he grimaced.

"Katarina Iphigenia Fedosia Blisk," he recited. "Lord High Steward and Archmage of Neverwinter."

#the adventure zone #thezonecast #taako #angus mcdonald #fanfiction #post-campaign #mystery #adventure

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torentialtribute · 5 years

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Wales legends on winning Grand Slam as Gatland’s side chase 12th sweep

One win from glory, the 2019 Welsh rugby team could join the greats of the past by becoming Six Nations Grand Slam champions against Ireland on Saturday.

Ahead of the match Sportsmail gathered together a group of Welsh legends who were part of all the six Slams in living memory for a trip down memory lane.

Wales can become Six Nations Grand Slam champions by beating Ireland on Saturday

1971

22-6 f England (Cardiff); 19-18 v Scotland (Murrayfield); 23-9 v Ireland (Cardiff); 9-5 f France (Paris).

Sir Gareth Edwards: 1971 was exciting, off the cuff, with little fuss. Our coach, Clive Rowlands 'last word to me before each game would be:' If it's good ball, use it. If it isn't kick it! "

We trained on Aberavon beach and just had one back move where Arthur Lewis would cut back against the flow of play. Guess what we called it? "An Arthur!"

Looking at today's complications, that's ridiculous! JPR Williams was such a masterful runner, we didn't need much else.

Against Scotland Gerald Davies had curved fit full back Ian Smith, but couldn't score among the posts. John Taylor then had a conversion right on the touchline in the last minute to win it.

Wales scrum-half Gareth Edwards runs with the ball during his team's win over France

Delme Thomas couldn't look. I said: "To think we've come all this way, played some great rugby and will lose!" It was too much of a fairy tale – but he got the kick.

We tended to lose to France in Paris, but not that final day. Despite the 9-5 score-line it was one of the classiest games I played in. Everyone still drools about it when I go to Paris now!

JPR intercepted Roger Bourgarel five out of our line. I thought: "I better follow him." With about 20 yards to go he threw the ball and I scored in the corner.

1976

21-9 f England (Twickenham); 28-6 v Scotland (Cardiff); 34-9 v Ireland (Dublin); 19-13 f France (Cardiff).

Edwards: We were more dominant in 1976 – a confident side with experience in the places that mattered, with the Pontypool front row of Charlie Faulkner, Bobby Windsor and Graham Price.

JJ Williams: I used to have honey and toast before a game, but the Pontypool boys would have a bloody steak! Sometimes they wrapped one in a napkin and ate it after the game – never waste a steak!

We stayed at the Angel Hotel in Cardiff and on Fridays would walk up Queen's Street to the cinema – seeing Blazing Saddles one time – all with an ice lolly! It was fabulous, but so bloody corny.

On match-day you'd open the curtains and see a sea or red outside the window. You don't go out, if you'd be swamped.

John Dawes would pick the smallest room in the hotel for a team meeting, to make the atmosphere more tense and tight, then we'd come down the lift and squeeze through thousands trying to grab you as you walked across the road to the ground.

Edwards makes a break during the Five Nations match against England at Twickenham in 1976

Edwards : One of the first things John said to us that year was : "You might not be a good team at the start of the season, but you're going to be a good side of the end!" We believed him.

JJ Williams: The dressing rooms at the Arms Park were very quiet, but when you came out of the tunnel the wall of noise hit you.

France were after our blood, but it was our peak after the invincible 1974 Lions tour. Mervyn Davies led from the front as a great captain, and we followed.

The necklaces were closing down, so the special Slam gift Wales a huge lift. Max Boyce was starting out then too. As we've got better, we've got more famous!

So did the Grogg shop in Pontypridd – they made caricature models of Mervyn and JPR to sell. All of that became part of the folklore. Possibly the best Grand Slam Wales ever won.

1978

9-6 f England (Twickenham); 22-14 v Scotland (Cardiff); 20-16 v Ireland (Dublin); 16-7 f France (Cardiff).

JJ Williams: 1978 was tougher as teams were after us. In 2005 everyone went bonkers because the modern generation didn't have a Slam and had gone through so many dark times.

In the 1970s if we didn't it was considered as a failure. The pressure was enormous, and we all had day jobs, so if we had lost the public on a Monday morning!

Edwards: We could've easily lost against England. It was a bloody trudge through the mud, but Phil Bennett tonked over a late penalty and we won 9-6. That was my 50th cap too, so I'll never forget it.

Wales wingerJJ Williams goes over to score a try during the Five Nations in 1978

In Dublin at half-time it led 13-6 but the Irish came out like a warring faction. I never saw the ball in the second half! It was a super-human effort from our pack.

We were so exhausted that after an hour we were still sat in our kit. Friends wanted me to come out but I was too tired and went to bed early!

JJ Williams: Then the first 10 minutes against France were like Waterloo. It was mad. But when it settled down we'd try to get the ball out and play.

Edwards: For winning we were given a decanter, and a silver badge that reads 'Wales Grand Slam' but never had medals. A good shake of the hand from the selectors was it!

JJ Williams: I think we were given a blazer too, but it never fitted!

2005

11-9 v England (Cardiff); 38-8 v Italy (Rome); 24-18 f France (Paris); 46-22 v Scotland (Murrayfield); 32-20 v Ireland (Cardiff).

Martyn Williams: No one thought we would win the Grand Slam in 2005, having been poor in the years previously.

Our style caught the imagination and after beating Scotland scoring some great tries, with no Slam for 27 years, it might have felt the weight of the world was on our shoulders.

Coming into Cardiff to play Ireland I felt nervous, but unbeatable. We didn't realize just how many people were in town, as we had come in the back end.

Martyn Williams celebrates after the final whistle in his side's victory over Ireland in 2005

I saw the news on the Sunday, with 250,000 people outside City Hall, and thought: "Wow , I'm slippery I didn't see that on the way in! '

It was a perfect sunny day so the roof was open, but it didn't matter – the atmosphere was electric. Ireland had Brian O'Driscoll, Paul O'Connell and Ronan O'Gara, so we knew it would be tough.

Gavin Henson hit a drop goal and then when a Gethin Jenkins charge-down settled us Kevin Morgan scored we knew we'd done it. For the last three minutes I was looking at the clock before the elation and relief.

I was three when Wales suffered last won a Grand Slam, so to be part of one took a long time to sink in.

Because it had been so long some wanted an open-top bus tour on the Monday, but the players said no. You only do that if you win the World Cup!

A crazy time to be involved; the highlight of my career. Although, because I was man of the tournament I had some press interviews on the Monday – difficult after our weekend in town!

Williams and Kevin Morgan celebrate with the trophy following the win over Ireland

2008

26-19 f England (Twickenham); 30-15 v Scotland (Cardiff); 47-8 v Italy (Cardiff); 16-12 v Ireland (Dublin); 29-12 f France (Cardiff).

M Williams: I'd retired after the 2007 World Cup disaster but at 32 as soon as Warren Gatland rank and asked if I wanted to come back I didn't take long to say yes. I knew we had a good team and saw what Warren and Shaun Edwards had done at Wasps.

With 13 Ospreys playing at Twickenham we beat England in a game we probably never should have won. Warren has this uncanny knack of giving players belief – we should have been dead and buried, but never looked back.

None of us had won at Twickenham – no Wales side had since 1988 – so suddenly with Scotland and Italy next at home we had momentum.

Wales players spray champagne as they celebrate the Grand Slam against France

Jamie Roberts: I made my debut against Scotland, the only game I played in that tournament, so whether that counts as a Grand Slam I don't know! On reflection my selection was probably to put a rocket up Mark Jones.

It was Gatland's first campaign and he wanted to stamp his authority quickly – I was the beneficiary of that decision! I was a pitch-side for the France game, so lived every minute, and did get a medal!

M Williams: It was a completely different style of winning to 2005. Then we were like Kevin Keegan's Newcastle, you score, we score. But in 2008 only two tried – still a record.

Shaun had worked his magic with the defense. It was a very un-Welsh way to win. We basically won because of Shane Williams, and our defense! At Croke Park, with Shane got us out of jail. We then sealed it against France at home again.

Williams holds the Triple Crown (right) and the Six Nations trophies after the France game

2012

23-21 f Ireland (Dublin); 27-13 v Scotland (Cardiff); 19-12 v England (Twickenham); 24-3 v Italy (Cardiff); 16-9 f France (Cardiff).

Roberts: The previous four years had harbored so much disappointment. In 2009 I lost a European Cup semi-final on penalties, let Ireland win a Slam in Cardiff with a last-minute drop goal, lost a Lions second Test in the last play against South Africa, and then was knocked out of the World Cup semi-final by a point in 2011. So by 2012 I was in my mid-20s and praying for no more disappointments.

Warren worked us so hard and made us believe we were fitter, faster and stronger than everyone else.

Against Ireland you have to empty the tank physically and mentally. Those matches hurt. We absolutely battered into them and Leigh Halfpenny won it with a penalty in the 79th minute.

Wales center Jamie Roberts scores his try during win over Italy at the Millennium stadium

At Twickenham I ran into Manu Tuilagi and felt a click in my medial ligament. Scott Williams came on for me and won the game after stripping the ball off Courtney Lawes – it was an amazing win which sealed the Triple Crown but I was worried I'd be dropped!

Luckily I recovered – getting all the abuse and 'Lazarus' nicknames from the lads – and scored a try from 60 meters against Italy. I didn't score too many, so that was awesome.

Alex Cuthbert was an academy boy, straight out of university on £ 5,000-a-year and scored three tries in the Championship – the step off his right and change of pace against France won us that final game – and Dan Lydiate was Wales personified – his attitude to level people was incredible.

For the core group it felt like we finally had reward for our efforts. The 2011 World Cup was savage – the worst moment of my career – so 2012 was special. And when you win trophies in Cardiff there are no early nights!

Roberts and his team mates celebrate after winning their country's fifth Grand Slam

2019?

24-19 f France (Paris); 26-15 v Italy (Rome); 21-13 v England (Twickenham); 18-11 v Scotland (Murrayfield); Next – Ireland (Cardiff).

M Williams: Recently this is the best team who've come here on the final day. Fingers crossed the magic of Cardiff will get Wales through and everyone will be dancing in the streets again. I'll be back all day long.

Edwards: They're on a fantastic run, but it is still done. I'll be proud if Alun Wyn Jones joins the group alongside Gerald Davies, JPR Williams, Ryan Jones, Adam Jones, Gethin Jenkins and me who have won three Grand Slams – we'll welcome him to the club with open arms!

He deserves it. Would my team beat this one? Well, lots of us are over 70! Good luck to them, I hope they achieve it.

Warren Gatland is one win away from seeing his team join the greats of the past

Roberts: Warren, Shaun Edwards and all the coaches deserve a perfect send-off. I have a huge amount of respect for the resilience of this team.

I can't see Wales losing. Their attacking game hasn't been allowed to shine yet, so I hope they blow Ireland off the park and score some great tries. Prepare the heart to beat at 200-beats-per-minute!

JJ Williams: This crop has shown glimpses of being a great team. We would've been proud of the Josh Adams try against Scotland. It was perfect.

This team are not spectacular – Gatland's teams will never play flamboyant rugby – but are defensively oriented and comfortable without the ball. They've done well and will get better. I am confident.

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#Wales legends on winning Grand Slam as Gatland’s side chase 12th sweep"

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chrismarshall1948 · 6 years

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BRAVOUR 2018

Further adventures of Bravour:

2018 season - wintered at Port Bannatyne.

Elisabeth and I arrived on Friday, 18 May and found the boat absolutely filthy with leaves twigs and green mould all over the decks and back canopy.

On top of this the backstay on the mainmast had been fitted without its locking nut and the connections to the solar panels had been kicked off. Skipper Chris was not a happy man.

It took us until the following Monday using lots of bleach on the deck and a hard scrubber with Elisabeth doing the nooks and crannies which left the boat looking clean and tidy. She has never been as dirty as this before and all the scrubbing gave Elisabeth very sore hands which took some days to heal up. The decision was made not to put her on the hard next winter to avoid her ending up in such a filthy condition again.

On top of all this we had the normal de winter rise nation to do - taking off sail covers and checking all the systems and equipment.

I noticed the battery charger wasn't working so Carlo came and gave us the workshop charger, also the 12 V system did not fire up so this needed checking.

The skipper's morale was beginning to sink lower and lower. The last cleaning job was to put the hood on the pontoon and carefully scrub all the green mould off it, getting it as clean as we could, folding it up and putting it away. Elisabeth did most of this work although I helped with the hose pipe.

One day somebody knocked on the boat and said he was a fellow banjer owner and he owned a boat based near Oban and called Banjer. Of course we invited him on board and offered him a whiskey. We then started swapping experiences regarding boating and banjering, he had only bought his recently in the last couple of years and was using it as a diving boat. He said there were no less than seven banjers in Scotland, that is to say:

Bravour

Banjer

Kiscadee sold for 55K we believe

Solarskier put up for 80 K but not yet sold we think

Pelican, that's the one in the tent on the Crinan Canal now all complete

Harebell

and the boat in Oban Marina – name forgotten but with £10,000 rail round the deck!!

that's quite a collection of banjers!

I got his name, Graham Bruce and we are invited to moor near his house which is on seal Island near Oban.

The following day, Tuesday 22 June, Carlo reported the charger was unserviceable and we went ahead to order a new one.

I should have said the previous Sunday I got an email from Pat to say his brother had died in Germany and he had to go over for the funeral arrangements. This was not good as it meant he was not able to crew for me down to Cork. I immediately got in touch with “crew seeker” and registered that I needed a crew.

I knew the chances of getting a crew at such short notice were very slim.

On the Saturday Elisabeth and I went down to the very smart little Cinema in Rothesay to see “the leisure seeker” with Helen Mirren and Donald Sutherland. Rather sad little film but certainly sums up the situation of the aged in our lives.

The following day Sunday, after I got the calamitous email from Pat, we went down to Ettrick Bay and had tea and a cake. In the evening we watched Paddington two on the DVD and cheered ourselves up.

Coming back to the Tuesday we did the final clean of the cockpit and went to Rothesay and a cup of coffee. Still no luck with finding a crew.

On Wednesday I even tried John Stirling for one of his lads in the workshop for a crew but he said he would not inflict one of them on me because they were not really sailors. I tried going into the Isle of Bute sailing club to see if anybody there was looking to be a crew, but no luck.

In the evening we had a meal at the Victoria and in the afternoon we had a trip to Dunoon. We found it a very ordinary place but the trip there was fairly exciting on a single track road with passing places, meeting massive timber lorries.

In the morning I went up the mast and managed to get a fellow boat owner Robin to help us. I got the main halyard re reeved and sawed off the useless wind indicator that was well broken.

On the Thursday I had developed a nasty cough and we were both still stiff from all the work we have done on the boat. Still no sign of a crew. We finished off Paddington two in the evening and had scrambled eggs - great. I managed to get hold of Pat on the phone to talk things through, but it seemed hopeless for him to come and do the sailing.

On the Friday we had a chillout day, cough still bad and Carlo fitted the new dropper to make the 12 V system okay. Hurray something is working. For supper at we had whitefish which was a very tasty. I tried to get the wipers freed up broke off the port hand wiper. Something else to fix.

The following day Saturday I managed to get the Walkman fired up as it had been singularly dead, also the little red speaker seem to take charge. Great something else I managed to get working.

We took the car and visited the oystercatcher pub near Otter ferry. A very scenic route on a another small road with passing places, returned back via Kames and then went to the honky tonk bar in the evening and had an amazing hamburger.

On the Sunday my cold was still bad so we both had a chillout day to try and get our backs better.

On the Monday we had another chillout day and ordered a new wiper £91!

I keep trying to remove the bit from the wiper, but without any success.

On the Tuesday we did the bus trip round the island which was very interesting, even though we had done it before. Wwe then went to the Zavaronis and had a Knickerbocker glory - what delights.

The new charger still hasn't turned up yet even though it's a week later.

On the Wednesday the workshop charger was taken off the boat and I decided to take the boat out and have a run up Loch Scriven, as this would hopefully charge the batteries up a bit.

We hoisted all the sails up and tried out our new rigging bit to make hoisting the halyard easier. The the water speed log didn't work, obviously fouled but the depth sounder was okay. The engine seem to be charging both the batteries and the domestics seemed more lively. However the engine batteries were still dead and we had to take the decision to order some new ones.

Good news the charger has arrived and now waiting for Carlo to fit it.

The following day Elisabeth and I started to paint all the green on the boat, this is a big job that has been waiting years and Elisabeth managed almost to finish one side.

I started to get some response to my request from the crew seeker however it was a bit late now, so I put them off but made a note of their email addresses for the following year.

Friday, still no Carlo, he promised first thing but has not turned up. Around midday, after reminding, Simon turned up and set to work on the electrics with Carlo. First of all they had to get the shore power sorted as this was very unreliable all due to corroded connections.

Elisabeth and I carried on painting the green on the starboard side and in the afternoon we went to Mount Stuart house so that Elisabeth could look round the gardens. Elisabeth had a great walk and then we had a scone in at the Esplanade.

When we got back to the boat we found Simon still there almost fixing the shore power which had proved an enormous job. The charger was not fitted, oh dear, Elisabeth and and I repaired to the Honky tonk hamburger place.

Sad day on the Saturday Elisabeth was off at 9 AM to catch the ferry to get back home and carry out her duties looking after Oscar. I went out and bought a small car charger and put it on charging at the domestic batteries, it is rather small but it seems to be doing something. I redid the leaves onto extension shore power leads. The new wiper blade was sent back as it did not fit.

The following few days I got on with painting the boat and eventually finished it almost on the Monday. I had quite a busy day on the Sunday, Simon called by and we had a good chat and also the couple from the next or boat called by and we had some whiskeys with them. Elisabeth got back home safely, having driven all the way to Northampton in one go, quite a feat.

I made a bit of a fuss on the Monday and eventually got a promise Carlo would be on the boat the following day to fit the charger. The new battery arrived on Tuesday and the charger was fitted on the Tuesday morning - woo hoo something is happening.

I eventually nearly finished the painting all except for a lower strip on the starboard side. I tried some of the white paint on the coach roof but it's completely the wrong shade and in the evening I watched Yehudi Menuhin.

The following day we got the old engine batteries out and Wayne from South Africa came along to the boat and managed to get the new ones in which actually were a bit bigger but we managed it.

Finally finished the painting and tried out the new batteries, engine starts instantly.

However there was a moment of panic because we have not disconnected the charger when the fitting the new batteries and it went dead. Jon Rushworth come along, who had helped me understand the new charger, and checked everything at the same time rebooting the charger which then came alive again. Thank goodness for that - cut throat razor now firmly put away.

Morale is beginning to lift a bit as the boat seems to be getting ready for Saturday when Kyla and Nick arrive. John's lad came along and got the bit off regarding the windscreen wiper so that's on the go.

On the Saturday Nick and Kyla arrived, as planned, and on the following Sunday we set off for Loch Ranza. How nice to be at sea again and actually using the boat rather than slaving away on it fixing bits and pieces here and there and everywhere.

Well the previous week had been very frustrating and regards the boat, expenses and not been able to get a sail.

Now that Nick and Kyla had arrived things seem to improve, although this week was not without its adventures and near disasters, read on.

The first day went as planned arriving at Loch Ranza and anchoring without a problem. We then proceeded down to Campbeltown the following day with a lunch stop and a smashing sail as we had had the previous day. What could go wrong?

Nick and Kyla did some shopping at Campbeltown and the following day we set off for Girvan via Ailsa Craig to see the gannet colony. We did a bit of sailing although the winds had eased off quite a bit. I have been into Girvan several times before without a problem and contacted the harbour master to tell him we would be arriving in an hour or so and was there a space to berth. They replied no problem take any spaces, plenty of room. I therefore proceeded in, trusting Reeds which said there were 2.6 m at the lowest astronomical tide. However I did not notice this said in 2001.

Just as we entered we went hard a ground, the sea was not rough and we were in no immediate danger, however the boat was gently lifting and then grounding on the bottom. With a bit of power we were gradually getting into the harbour inch by inch. The harbour master was at the end of the key watching us and then the Belfast Coast Guard contacted us as the “Ketch a ground at the entrance to Girvan harbour” - did we need any assistance?, at that moment the lifeboat appeared and approached us. I said to the coxwain we did need assistance and could they tow us off.

The coxwain did a marvellous job, towing us off backwards back out to sea without damaging the boat. We heaved a sigh of relief to be once more afloat. They advised we should wait an hour, so we hung around for a good hour and then proceeded back in, only to find that we went aground again, although with a bit of power we managed to get into the harbour and tied up at a pontoon.

Needless to say I was not very happy with the lack of advice from the harbour master.

However it is always the skipper's fault and I should have looked more carefully at the pilot and the advice given in Reeds. It's very easy to get complacent when you been sailing for many a year.

However when Kyla went up to pay dues and I also rang the harbour master he was duly apologetic and said that we should have been advised not to enter outside high water plus or -2 hours. I told him we had entered about two hours after low water and still gone a ground. Anyway the story ended happily because he let us off our £35 overnight berthing fee by way of apology.

I promised to make a £50 donation to the RNLI which I did a few days later.

As if the grounding wasn't enough we had more excitements to come, the weather forecast was for a force 10 gale or storm the following day, kicking off at about late afternoon. We decided to leave Girvan around high tide and get up to Lamlash, which is a very sheltered harbour near Holy Island which is owned by the Buddhists. We set off the following day and arrived around midday as planned and then took a buoy with two mooring lines and awaited the storm. The storm arrived as expected late afternoon and we had to keep a buoy watch all night in case the lines parted, this was on an hourly basis and completely tired us as we couldn't get any sleep all night. Me in of the vee cabin because of the ropes making terrible noises on the front chains and the boat being blown around and rolled over to 20° which is quite severe just on a mooring.

The storm eventually blew itself out late afternoon the following day and we stayed a further night and set off for Rothesay the following day. I have never experienced such a severe storm when the wind blew literally blew the tops of the waves away, very spectacular.

When we inspected the mooring warps neither was damaged at all which we thought miraculous, bearing in mind the terrible noises it was making.

We arrived at Rothesay and Nick and Kyla went off to look at Mount Stuart which is a very a splendid house with an amazing Chapel all made of white marble.

Nick and Kyla left the following day, Saturday, as planned and left the boat un naturally quiet. I do miss them, what a splendid team they were and what fun we did have despite all the excitements.

I spent the weekend finishing off the final bit of painting, masticing round the galley worktop and doing various chores and keeping the boat up to scratch. As John Stirling said, its a lot of boat to keep up.

The other job I've done of course is to write up this blog looking at my carefully written up log book (which is almost full) - this finishes up until Monday night 18th of June,

your skipper

Chris

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donaldtrumpatthemovies-blog · 7 years

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Batman V Superman: Dawn Of Justice

Yesterday Mnuchin sent over a screener of the new Batman Toy movie that he produced. Not planning on watching it. I preffer superhero movies I can take seriously. So watched a different one that he also worked on: “Batman V Superman.” I like this one.

The movie introduces us to Batman and Superman by showing each of them responding to an emergencey. Batman rushes to the scene of a colapsing building and rescues two people. Superman takes out a group of terrorists threatening an American woman. I usually react to emergencies in a similar manner. On 9/11 I ran into the wreckage at Ground Zero and pulled dozens of people to safety. Then I ran to New Jersey, tracked down a celebrating Al Queda cell and took them down singlehandedly. Of course none of this was covered by the lying media who don’t want the public to know about terrorism happening. The media is disgraceful.

Of course Congress is also disgraceful. They hold hearings about Superman cause the terrorists died. What? Terrorists dying is a good thing! Congress should be thanking Superman for doing a great job! But instead they let some immigrant woman spread lies about him. “He answers to no one.” she says. Why should he? He’s getting results! Unlike Congress, who should spend their time aproving Cabinet members, not asking questions. Superman says he doesn’t care about what Congress does. Good for him!

Instead of putting up with Congress’s McCarthyist questions, Superman goes and has sex with his reporter girlfriend in her bathtub. Now let me assure you, when I have sex with lady reporters in bathtubs, it’s way better sex and a far superior class of bathtub. And I guarantee you that when that happens it is definitely always the lady reporters that are propositioning ME. I have too many women throwing themselves at me every day to ever need to go look for sex. Those ugly reporter women from back in October had their lies about me asking for sex, but reporters lying isn’t a suprise for anybody. I’m not going to nail any ugly women! I value my marriage too much to do that. Any woman that I would have sex with is Amy Adams level hot at absolute minimum.

Unlike corrupt Congress, the public supports Superman. That’s why they built him a statue. It’s a good looking statue, but it could’ve been a lot bigger. When I was working on getting a Columbus statue for Manhattan, that statue was huge. Just compare:

In the end, we couldn’t get that statue into New York. Too much red tape. Local government failure! Puerto Rico got it instead. America was robbed. Never again.

Tsereteli, the sculptor who made it, is a big league talent. He makes loads of great statues. You should see his Putin statue. It’s phenomenal. Seriously impressive work. And calling it a great statue doesn’t mean that I’m teamed up with Putin. Nothing to do with him. Nothing. I just respect good art. All these stories about me and Russia are 100% phoney. But the media keeps spreading lies about my amazing cabinet. So unfair. I have absolute confidence in all my people, except the ones that have resigned or are about to resign.

And what’s the big deal about Russians? Look at this movie. The Russians aren’t trying to mess with the government, they’re just doing some business with Lex. This is how Russians usually are in my experience. Easy to work with. And they also help Superman kill those terrorists at the beginning! How is this a problem? It’s like Syria all over again. Democrats, media, and sell outs like Graham are SO DUMB on this.

Anyway, Batman is torturing criminals and getting lots of good infomation from it. This is my favorite Batman in any movie. He wants to save America from nightmare about a vicious police state leader who wasn’t born here. I’m way ahead of him on that. He says that you need to take action if someone has a 1% chance of being a bad guy. I say acting on 0.0000001% is way safer, that’s why I made the travel ban. But Batman’s a deafeatest sometimes. “Criminals are like weeds. Pull one up, another grows in it’s place.” Ridiculous. Doesn’t understand criminals or gardening. I will make sure we get ALL the crooks, and we’ll make America crime free, just like I made my golf courses weed free. But this movie does have the best Batman fights out of any movie. This Batman is extremely strong and can lift big weights and huge tires. He’s in almost as good shape as me!

Lex Luthor isn’t in very good shape. And he mostly acts like a twerp. He doesn’t command respect. No one would ever come to one of MY events to try to spy on secret infomation. I don’t associate with sneaky people. When my friends and customers see me at a table near them meeting with my advisors, negotiating with foreign leaders, reviewing CIA reports, or whatever, they don’t try to ease drop! They just say to each other “Wow isn’t it amazing how calm and collected and completely powerful President Trump is? It’s like he was born to do this job! We should’ve put him in charge YEARS ago!” Respect is important. If Lex had more respect, maybe the nosy senator woman would let him have his poison emerald. They were supposed to be on the same side, and she still gives him problems! Typical corrupt senator behavior. They always back stabb their own side over junk like “rules” and “evidence.” Or they tell total lies like cooky McConnell badmouthing my wall today. What a dolt!

But Lex has a respectable side too. Like the scene where he jams the Jolly Rancher in the government guy‘s mouth. That’s how you take control of a situation! Though that’s just one candy. I can force an entire plate of meatloaf into Chris Christie when I need to make a point. Lex also understands the enjoyment of making a woman drink piss. Of course I preffer using much hotter women for this type of game. But he’s still a twerp most of the time. It’s why he gets locked up at the end. And gets his head shaved, which drives him crazy.

Superman finds out about disasters from television and goes off to solve them. But does the media thank him? They just sit and complain and tell lies about him! Sound familiar? And when he goes to Washington, tons of protesters with weirdo haircuts come to whine about him. Disgraceful. These are huge protest crowds. Way bigger than any that have ever protested me. No comparison. Did anybody ever dress up a dummy in my clothes and set it on fire? Not a chance! Even these wacko Woman Protest Day chicks can’t get as big a crowd as the Superman hater people do. This is what Superman has to put up with. And all the clowns holding the hearing at Congress. So shameful. It must’ve felt good for him to watch them all explode. Big relief. He should have crowds cheering him, not these constant insults! Like his girlfriend tells him, he is “all that gives people hope.” And you know, so many people have said this about me also. But still all these losers keep complaining!

Why do I have to put up with all this garbage? Lying cameramen get footage of me and my staff and make people think we’re arguing! That was not an argument. I can SHOW you what an argument looks like! And who’s business is it if I tell Reince to stay out of my way? MY BUSINESS. Not the media’s! Everything is amazing between my team! Completely amazing! Which is way more than I can say for Congress. Those bozos are falling apart! I promised the people an amazing repeal of Obamacare. And I told the Congress leaders to make me one, but they messed it all up and split the party! Sort it out! I want a beautiful victory, not a bunch of whining over details! Save the arguing for another issue! This one isn’t exactly life or death! And why are they still dragging there feet on aproving my appointments? Ridiculous! I am the PRESIDENT! The president doesn’t get told to wait for what he wants! The president doesn’t get called a “pathological liar” on news shows! The president doesn’t have some deadbeat restaurant suing his hotel! The president doesn’t get mocked every week by these crossdressers at SNL! The president doesn’t have his picks for national security adviser turn down the job offer! The president doesn’t have a dozen government snitches leaking classified infomation to the fake news reporters every day! Like in the movie, the National Security guy leaks a bunch of classified stuff to the lady reporter! Like the movie knew the future! The snitch even looks like Obama! Out to get me! All of them! And every time I walk down my hall that picture of crooked Hillary is grinning at me! Why do I have to put up with this?

When Superman gets fed up with all the sleazebags who don’t appreciate him, he goes and talks to his dead father. Its an ok conversation, but when ever I picture myself talking to my dead father the conversation is always a lot more inspiring. “You’ve done stupendous Donald,” he tells me. “You built an empire from nothing, with no help from anyone. You have done what no other man could. They say that no man is an island, but you have remade an entire planet in your own image. You shine like the sun itself. And the rest of us stand awed in your shadow. The little people shake with every step you take. Anyone who gets in your way will be crushed under your feet.” Way better than Kevin Costner and his drowning horse nightmares.

Notice how the president in the movie nukes the monster and its clearly the right call. The movie gets what real life weak politicians don’t. Nukes are totally necessary in serious situations. I’m a lot smarter than the wimps. The North Koreans don’t seem to get that yet. They will.

Superman gets killed at the end, clearing space for Hawkman to be introduced as the new lead for “Justice League.” He gets two funerals, which is not bad, but its only half as many as I have set up for myself in my will. The plan is first New York, then Washington and Aberdeen, and then Palm Beach. My body will be interred at Mar-a-Lago, where the “guest house” will be converted into a climate controlled marble furnished mosaleum. My coffin will be made entirely of crystal and flanked by four 10 foot tall solid gold lions. My private security team will be contracted to fire a 20 gun salute beside the tennis courts every Saturday at sundown for the first 25 years. Look, I have absolutely no plans to die soon. I am in fantastic health, and expect that I will outlive my wife and most of my children. But you’ve gotta be prepared for this stuff if you want it to get done right. Can’t trust morons with the details. Legacy is seriously important. Which is also the point of this movie. I like this movie.

#batman v superman #dawn of justice

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