#Accident Injury Law Palm Springs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sokoloffweinstein · 2 years

Text

Slip And Fall Attorneys West Palm Beach

At one level, using a trick taught to him by Joe, whose telecommunications experience proved invaluable, Chuy apparently listened in on some of the relatives’ calls. He and Gerardo additionally submitted functions for U.S. journey visas. He didn’t depart the house usually, except to get frozen yogurt. The household never once more returned to the house in Grapevine. They traveled to South Florida, where his brother lived, for spring break, and after they obtained again to Grapevine, Guerrero advised his wife to lease an apartment in her sister’s name and to cease utilizing her cellphone to name Mexico. It was purchased in cash, and Guerrero’s name didn’t appear anyplace within the county data.

Smith and Vanture Law Firm can help Royal Palm BeachFlorida accident victims with insurance claims and needed authorized motion. Whether you or the opposite driver has a history of auto accidents, license suspensions, a criminal document, and so forth. Car accidents turn individuals's lives the wrong method up every single day in West Palm Beach and all through Florida. People who survive are sometimes left with serious injuries What Can Royal Palm Beach Attorneys Do If My Accident Happened At Work? which have a serious influence on their lives. They face surgical procedure, hospitalization, remedy, medicine, and doctor appointments. I discovered, and still discover, that Ira’s agency will evaluate the case fairly and supply the consumer with a reasonably expectation of the method involved and will keep away from giving false hope where there might be none.

They turned engaged in March 1992, and were married in a civil ceremony by Judge A. David Mazzone on July 3, 1992, at Kennedy's home in McLean, Virginia. She would gain credit score with stabilizing his private life and serving to him resume a productive profession What Can Royal Palm Beach Attorneys Do If My Accident Happened At Work? in the Senate. On Easter weekend 1991, Kennedy was at a get-together at the family's Palm Beach, Florida, estate. After reminiscing about his brother-in-law, Kennedy was restless and maudlin when he left for a late-night visit to a neighborhood bar.

Wasn't positive how it will work with me being in one city and lawyer in another but it all worked out in the long run thanks for all of your exhausting work. When you name our workplace, we are going to give you a no-obligation, no-cost session to review the main points of your case and decide should you need our assist. These are generally prices What Can Royal Palm Beach Attorneys Do If My Accident Happened At Work? for tangible expenses or companies immediately related to your harm. The roads and highways in Royal Palm Beach and throughout Palm Beach County are congested and service a high volume of every day travelers. Not surprisingly, Palm Beach County had the 5th most accidents within the State of Florida in 2017 behind Miami-Dade, Broward, Orange and Hillsborough counties. Bone fractures – A broken bone can equal ache and inconvenience.

Proper and well timed notification to the proper people must happen within a interval of 30 days after the accident occurred, or your declare goes to be denied. At Hollander Law Firm, our legal group has more than 28 years of experience. We’ve recovered tens of millions of dollars for purchasers in South Florida, including a quantity of awards over $1 Million. We’ve recovered tens of millions of dollars for our purchasers over the past 28+ years. We work tirelessly to struggle for the rights of injured employees to help them get the compensation they want after an accident. If you're feeling any pain, instantly make your method to a local hospital emergency room .

Most defendants and insurance coverage companies will attempt to shift blame. For that purpose, it is essential to hire an skilled lawyer so that you simply receive the maximum compensation for the harm you suffered. Punitive damages usually are not compensatory damages given to the Plaintiff. Punitive damages punish the Defendant in a private injury case for gross negligence or intentional misconduct. Punitive damages are given to the plaintiff in these cases and never held by the federal government.

Most Americans are used to casting their ballot for a single individual for each office. Family members of 32-year-old Jordan Hall mourned the student pilot killed when the airplane he and his flight teacher were piloting crashed right into a Miramar neighborhood Monday. Indonesia has discovered contaminated medicines which are suspected of being linked to the deaths of ninety nine kids this 12 months due to acute kidney injury. Please fill out the shape below and considered one of our attorneys will contact you. In 1962 environmental scientist Rachel Carson published “Silent Spring,” a bestselling e-book that asserted that overuse of pesticides was harming the surroundings and threatening human well being.

#personal injury attorney #lawyer #car accident attorney #attorney #auto accident attorney

0 notes

aytrust · 2 years

Text

Centurion boat girl

#Centurion boat girl pdf#

#Centurion boat girl driver#

#Centurion boat girl registration#

Call Now to schedule your free consultation: 72 or Toll-Free Statewide 86.Motor Vehicles, Tags & Titles Renew or Replace Your Registration Motor Vehicle Information Check Fraud Fees Emergency Contact Information Liens & Titles PINELLAS COUNTY, Fla. We urge you to contact the Law Offices of Whittel & Melton, LLC immediately if you have lost a loved one due to the negligent actions of another party. Accidents in Pinellas County are a major cause of property damage, injury, and death each year In Pinellas County, statistics from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration show that traffic crashes remain a primary public safety issue.Contact a Pinellas County, Florida Lawyer Who Handles Wrongful Death Cases. The Largo Police Department responded to the scene of a three-car crash that left one man dead Saturday morning, a news release reports.

#Centurion boat girl driver#

TSPD said no officers were injured in the.Police: Drunk driver causes 3 car crash killing 1, injuring others in Largo | WFLA A Pinellas County man was charged with vehicular homicide after police say he caused a three-car crash that left. The Florida Highway Patrol said a woman from Tampa died early Tuesday morning after she crashed into a Tarpon Springs Police SUV. The driver was arrested for DUI.TARPON SPRINGS, Fla. Edward Feist lost his life on Sunday when the car he was a passenger in crashed in St. ST PETERSBURG, FL, (October 17, 2021) - Edward Feist, age 35, of Seminole, died Sunday morning when the vehicle he was a passenger in crashed in St. The incident occurred at 8:44 a.m., early in the morning.The crash was Sunday morning along 49th Street N. According to accounts, the accident happened at mile marker 33 on Interstate 275. Pinellas Co, FL (August 26, 2021) - An vehicle collision in Pinellas County on Thursday, August 26 resulted in injuries, according to the police department. A carjacking suspect told relatives he wanted a "nice shootout" with police the day before Pinellas deputies fatally shot him, according to investigators. Home electric car charges make it life easy.One in 10 fatal car crashes are caused by distracted driving in Enjoy great rates and the extra benefits you deserve as an AARP member In Tampa, Florida, security cameras outside a business captured an accident: an SUV "slammed" into a car Woman Dies In 3-Vehicle Crash On Tampa Road In Palm Harbor - Palm Harbor, FL - A 43-year-old Palm Harbor woman has died following a crash Friday on Tampa. Fatal Car Accident Pinellas County 2020 - Facing charges after allegedly causing a fatal car accident on ehrlich road were closed as investigators. 2295 Accident Reports County Office is not affiliated with any government agency. Collier County Sheriff's Office, Central Records Bureau. Investigators from the Pinellas County Sheriff's Office Major Accident Investigation Team are currently on-scene of fatal pedestrian crash on 66th Street and Marlberry Way Car, truck, bicycle, pedestrian, and motorcycle accidents are all a common occurrence, despite improvements in vehicle safety Car, truck.Petersburg man died on Tuesday after a truck hit him on his scooter on 66th Street North, Florida Highway Patrol said. Georgetown, Tennessee - Survivor of fatal ambulance accident speaks out.ST.

#Centurion boat girl pdf#

Press Release Fatal Crash Wakulla County FHPH12OFF022072 - freeload as PDF File (. Police say it appears the man was thrown from the vehicle after it veered off the road, struck a drain and rolled several times. A 64-year-old Palm Bay motorist was killed late Tuesday after the vehicle he was in veered off of Interstate 95 and slammed into several trees, the Florida Highway Patrol reported.Car Accident In Bladen County 2020. The crash occurred in the southbound lanes of.Hamilton NJ Car Accident Lawyers | Mercer County Wrongful. (WFLA) - A 24-year-old woman died Tuesday morning after her vehicle rear-ended a police officer's cruiser on U.S. Pinellas County mother grieving soldier son killed in Kabul airport attack WPTV West Palm Beach, FL TAMPA, Fla. Lake Worth Beach fatal car crash under investigation WPTV West Palm Beach, FL.

#Centurion boat girl

0 notes

idealeaf18riverside · 2 years

Text

Are Motorcycle Accidents Increasing in Riverside?

Are you wondering if there's a greater number of motorcycle accidents in Riverside? You're not alone looking for more motorcycle accidents in Riverside. Many motorcycle accident victims aren't aware of the process of determining liability and how to navigate legal procedures. An experienced Riverside civil court attorney can be a valuable resource, helping you calculate the damages you can claim and guide you through the complicated legal procedure. If you're asking, "Are motorcycle accidents increasing in Riverside? " Continue reading to learn more about the causes behind this sad trend. Distracted driving Although a lot of people are familiar with the roads and roads in their neighborhood, they don't realize that distracted drivers increase the chance of being in an accident.

youtube

Driving distracted causes a variety of accidents, including fatal ones and injuries. To avoid this kind of accident, you should learn how to prevent yourself from making these common mistakes. If you're in an accident and you are unable to pay for medical bills then you should think about hiring a Riverside car accident lawyer to help you receive a fair settlement for your motorcycle accident. Road conditions that could prove to be dangerous The Pomona Freeway (also known as State Route 60) is one of California's most dangerous freeways. It connects Los Angeles with Palm Springs, Phoenix, San Diego and San Diego. Motorcyclists are frequently pushed into other vehicles along the freeway. The high accident rate along this freeway is among the major causes of Riverside motorcycle accidents. As a result, motorcyclists must exercise extra caution when traveling on this stretch of Interstate 15. Interlocks for ignition A device to interlock the ignition prevents drivers from drinking alcohol prior to when they begin driving. It is becoming increasingly employed in motorbike accidents. The report, commissioned by the California Office of Traffic Safety, examined the effectiveness of ignition interlocks as a tool to prevent motorcycle accidents. Clifford J. Helander directed the Research and Development Branch of California Department of Motor Vehicles to create the report. Drivers who operate their vehicles more recklessly The Law Office of Gary G. Goldberg is a Riverside motorcycle accident lawyer who is aware of the responsibilities of a motorcycle driver. Motorcyclists in California face a myriad of dangers on the roads. Moreover, drivers use their vehicles more recklessly and put innocent people in danger. Drivers should adhere to the rules of the road, including signalling their intentions to change lanes. Additionally they should not be distracted when driving. At-fault driver Riverside, California is home to a variety of highways that bikers can enjoy while traveling. Riverside is also home to many bikers, making riding on the roads an integral part of the city's culture. Accidents occur, despite the safety precautions you take. If you require legal assistance if are involved in an Riverside motorcycle accident, call Wilshire Law Firm.

#motorcycle accident attorney riverside ca #motorcycle accident attorney riverside california #motorcyc

1 note · View note

timeless-hollywood-classics · 3 years

Text

Robert Charles Durman Mitchum (August 6, 1917 – July 1, 1997) was an American actor, director, author, poet, composer, and singer. Mitchum rose to prominence for starring roles in several classic films noirs, and his acting is generally considered a forerunner of the antiheroes prevalent in film during the 1950s and 1960s. His best-known films include Out of the Past (1947), The Night of the Hunter (1955), Cape Fear (1962), and El Dorado (1966). Mitchum was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for The Story of G.I. Joe (1945). He is also known for his television role as U.S. Navy Captain Victor “Pug” Henry in the epic miniseries The Winds of War (1983) and sequel War and Remembrance (1988).

Mitchum is rated number 23 on the American Film Institute's list of the greatest male stars of Classic American Cinema.

Robert Mitchum was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut, on August 6, 1917, into a Norwegian-Irish Methodist family. His mother, Ann Harriet Gunderson, was a Norwegian immigrant and sea captain's daughter; his father, James Thomas Mitchum, was a shipyard and railroad worker of Irish descent.[3] His older sister, Annette (known as Julie Mitchum during her acting career), was born in 1914. Their father, James Mitchum, was crushed to death in a railyard accident in Charleston, South Carolina, in February 1919. Robert was one year old, and Annette was not yet five. Their mother was awarded a government pension, and soon realized she was pregnant. Her third child, John, was born in September of that year. Ann married again to Major Hugh Cunningham Morris, a former Royal Naval Reserve officer. Ann and Morris had a daughter together, Carol Morris, born July 1927, on the family farm in Delaware. When all of the children were old enough to attend school, Ann found employment as a linotype operator for the Bridgeport Post.

As a child, Mitchum was known as a prankster, often involved in fistfights and mischief. When he was 12, his mother sent him to live with her parents in Felton, Delaware; the boy was promptly expelled from middle school for scuffling with the principal. A year later, in 1930, he moved in with his older sister Annette, in New York's Hell's Kitchen. After being expelled from Haaren High School, he left his sister and traveled throughout the country, hopping on railroad cars, taking a number of jobs, including ditch-digging for the Civilian Conservation Corps and professional boxing. At age 14 in Savannah, Georgia, he said he was arrested for vagrancy and put on a local chain gang. By Mitchum's own account, he escaped and returned to his family in Delaware. During this time, while recovering from injuries that nearly cost him a leg, he met Dorothy Spence, whom he would later marry. He soon went back on the road, eventually "riding the rails" to California.

Mitchum arrived in Long Beach, California, in 1936, staying again with his sister, now going by the name of Julie. She had moved to the West Coast in the hope of acting in movies, and the rest of the Mitchum family soon joined them. During this time, Mitchum worked as a ghostwriter for astrologer Carroll Righter. Julie convinced him to join the local theater guild with her. At The Players Guild of Long Beach, Mitchum worked as a stagehand and occasional bit-player in company productions. He also wrote several short pieces which were performed by the guild. According to Lee Server's biography (Robert Mitchum: Baby, I Don't Care), Mitchum put his talent for poetry to work writing song lyrics and monologues for Julie's nightclub performances.

In 1940, he returned to Delaware to marry Dorothy Spence, and they moved back to California. He gave up his artistic pursuits at the birth of their first child James, nicknamed Josh, and two more children, Chris and Petrine, followed. Mitchum found steady employment as a machine operator during wartime era WWII, with the Lockheed Aircraft Corporation, but the noise of the machinery damaged his hearing. He also suffered a nervous breakdown (which resulted in temporary blindness), due to job-related stress. He then sought work as a film actor, performing initially as an extra and in small speaking parts. His agent got him an interview with Harry Sherman, the producer of Paramount's Hopalong Cassidy western film series, which starred William Boyd; Mitchum was hired to play minor villainous roles in several films in the series during 1942 and 1943. He went uncredited as a soldier in the Mickey Rooney 1943 film The Human Comedy. Also in 1943 he and Randolph Scott were soldiers in the Pacific Island war film Gung Ho.

Mitchum continued to find work as an extra and supporting actor in numerous productions for various studios. After impressing director Mervyn LeRoy during the making of Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo, Mitchum signed a seven-year contract with RKO Radio Pictures. He was groomed for B-Western stardom in a series of Zane Grey adaptations.

Following the moderately successful Western Nevada, RKO lent Mitchum to United Artists for The Story of G.I. Joe (1945). In the film, he portrayed war-weary officer Bill Walker (based on Captain Henry T. Waskow), who remains resolute despite the troubles he faces. The film, which followed the life of an ordinary soldier through the eyes of journalist Ernie Pyle (played by Burgess Meredith), became an instant critical and commercial success. Shortly after filming, Mitchum was drafted into the United States Army, serving at Fort MacArthur, California, as a medic. At the 1946 Academy Awards, The Story of G.I. Joe was nominated for four Oscars, including Mitchum's only nomination for Best Supporting Actor. He finished the year with a Western (West of the Pecos) and a story of returning Marine veterans (Till the End of Time), before filming in a genre that came to define Mitchum's career and screen persona: film noir.

Mitchum was initially known for his work in film noir. His first foray into the genre was a supporting role in the 1944 B-movie When Strangers Marry, about newlyweds and a New York City serial killer. Undercurrent, another of Mitchum's early noir films, featured him as a troubled, sensitive man entangled in the affairs of his brother (Robert Taylor) and his brother's suspicious wife (Katharine Hepburn). John Brahm's The Locket (1946) featured Mitchum as bitter ex-boyfriend to Laraine Day's femme fatale. Raoul Walsh's Pursued (1947) combined Western and noir styles, with Mitchum's character attempting to recall his past and find those responsible for killing his family. Crossfire (also 1947) featured Mitchum as a member of a group of World War II soldiers, one of whom kills a Jewish man. It featured themes of anti-Semitism and the failings of military training. The film, directed by Edward Dmytryk, earned five Academy Award nominations.

Following Crossfire, Mitchum starred in Out of the Past (also called Build My Gallows High), directed by Jacques Tourneur and featuring the cinematography of Nicholas Musuraca. Mitchum played Jeff Markham, a small-town gas-station owner and former investigator, whose unfinished business with gambler Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas) and femme fatale Kathie Moffett (Jane Greer) comes back to haunt him.

On September 1, 1948, after a string of successful films for RKO, Mitchum and actress Lila Leeds were arrested for possession of marijuana.[10] The arrest was the result of a sting operation designed to capture other Hollywood partiers as well, but Mitchum and Leeds did not receive the tipoff. After serving a week at the county jail (he described the experience to a reporter as being "like Palm Springs, but without the riff-raff"), Mitchum spent 43 days (February 16 to March 30) at a Castaic, California, prison farm. Life photographers were permitted to take photos of him mopping up in his prison uniform. The arrest inspired the exploitation film She Shoulda Said No! (1949), which starred Leeds. The conviction was later overturned by the Los Angeles court and district attorney's office on January 31, 1951, after being exposed as a setup.

Despite, or because of, Mitchum's troubles with the law and his studio, his films released immediately after his arrest were box-office hits. Rachel and the Stranger (1948) featured Mitchum in a supporting role as a mountain man competing for the hand of Loretta Young, the indentured servant and wife of William Holden. In the film adaptation of John Steinbeck's novella The Red Pony (1949), he appeared as a trusted cowhand to a ranching family. He returned to film noir in The Big Steal (also 1949), where he reunited with Jane Greer in an early Don Siegel film.

In Where Danger Lives (1950), Mitchum played a doctor who comes between a mentally unbalanced Faith Domergue and cuckolded Claude Rains. The Racket was a noir remake of the early crime drama of the same name and featured Mitchum as a police captain fighting corruption in his precinct. The Josef von Sternberg film, Macao (1952), had Mitchum as a victim of mistaken identity at an exotic resort casino, playing opposite Jane Russell. Otto Preminger's Angel Face was the first of three collaborations between Mitchum and British stage actress Jean Simmons. In this film, she played an insane heiress who plans to use young ambulance driver Mitchum to kill for her.

Mitchum was fired from Blood Alley (1955), due to his conduct, reportedly having thrown the film's transportation manager into San Francisco Bay. According to Sam O'Steen's memoir Cut to the Chase, Mitchum showed up on-set after a night of drinking and tore apart a studio office when they did not have a car ready for him. Mitchum walked off the set of the third day of filming Blood Alley, claiming he could not work with the director. Because Mitchum was showing up late and behaving erratically, producer John Wayne, after failing to obtain Humphrey Bogart as a replacement, took over the role himself.

Following a series of conventional Westerns and films noirs, as well as the Marilyn Monroe vehicle River of No Return (1954), Mitchum appeared in Charles Laughton's only film as director: The Night of the Hunter (1955). Based on a novel by Davis Grubb, the thriller starred Mitchum as a monstrous criminal posing as a preacher to find money hidden by his cellmate in the cellmate's home. His performance as Reverend Harry Powell is considered by many to be one of the best of his career.[15][16] Stanley Kramer's melodrama Not as a Stranger, also released in 1955, was a box-office hit. The film starred Mitchum against type, as an idealistic young doctor, who marries an older nurse (Olivia de Havilland), only to question his morality many years later. However, the film was not well received, with most critics pointing out that Mitchum, Frank Sinatra, and Lee Marvin were all too old for their characters. Olivia de Havilland received top billing over Mitchum and Sinatra.

On March 8, 1955, Mitchum formed DRM (Dorothy and Robert Mitchum) Productions to produce five films for United Artists; four films were produced. The first film was Bandido (1956). Following a succession of average Westerns and the poorly received Foreign Intrigue (1956), Mitchum starred in the first of three films with Deborah Kerr. The John Huston war drama Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison, starred Mitchum as a Marine corporal shipwrecked on a Pacific Island with a nun, Sister Angela (Deborah Kerr), as his sole companion. In this character study, they struggle to resist the elements and the invading Japanese army. The film was nominated for two Academy Awards, including Best Actress and Best Adapted Screenplay. For his role, Mitchum was nominated for a BAFTA Award for Best Foreign Actor. In the WWII submarine classic The Enemy Below (1956), Mitchum gave a strong performance as U.S. Naval Lieutenant Commander Murrell, the captain of a U.S. Navy destroyer who matches wits with a German U-boat captain Curt Jurgens, who starred with Mitchum again in the legendary 1962 movie The Longest Day. The film won an Oscar for Special Effects.

Thunder Road (1958), the second DRM Production, was loosely based on an incident in which a driver transporting moonshine was said to have fatally crashed on Kingston Pike in Knoxville, Tennessee, somewhere between Bearden Hill and Morrell Road. According to Metro Pulse writer Jack Renfro, the incident occurred in 1952 and may have been witnessed by James Agee, who passed the story on to Mitchum. He starred in the movie, produced, co-wrote the screenplay, and is rumored to have directed much of the film. It costars his son James, as his on screen brother, in a role originally intended for Elvis Presley. Mitchum also co-wrote (with Don Raye) the theme song, "The Ballad of Thunder Road".

He returned to Mexico for The Wonderful Country (1959) and Ireland for A Terrible Beauty/The Night Fighters for the last of his DRM Productions.

Mitchum and Kerr reunited for the Fred Zinnemann film, The Sundowners (1960), where they played husband and wife struggling in Depression-era Australia. Opposite Mitchum, Kerr was nominated for yet another Academy Award for Best Actress, while the film was nominated for a total of five Oscars. Mitchum was awarded that year's National Board of Review award for Best Actor for his performance. The award also recognized his superior performance in the Vincente Minnelli Western drama Home from the Hill (also 1960). He was teamed with former leading ladies Kerr and Simmons, as well as Cary Grant, for the Stanley Donen comedy The Grass Is Greener the same year.

Mitchum's performance as the menacing rapist Max Cady in Cape Fear (1962) brought him further renown for playing cold, predatory characters. The 1960s were marked by a number of lesser films and missed opportunities. Among the films Mitchum passed on during the decade were John Huston's The Misfits (the last film of its stars Clark Gable and Marilyn Monroe), the Academy Award–winning Patton, and Dirty Harry. The most notable of his films in the decade included the war epics The Longest Day (1962) and Anzio (1968), the Shirley MacLaine comedy-musical What a Way to Go! (1964), and the Howard Hawks Western El Dorado (1967), a remake of Rio Bravo (1959), in which Mitchum took over Dean Martin's role of the drunk who comes to the aid of John Wayne. He teamed with Martin for the 1968 Western 5 Card Stud, playing a homicidal preacher.

One of the lesser-known aspects of Mitchum's career was his foray into music as a singer. Critic Greg Adams writes, "Unlike most celebrity vocalists, Robert Mitchum actually had musical talent." Mitchum's voice was often used instead of that of a professional singer when his character sang in his films. Notable productions featuring Mitchum's own singing voice included Rachel and the Stranger, River of No Return, and The Night of the Hunter. After hearing traditional calypso music and meeting artists such as Mighty Sparrow and Lord Invader while filming Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison in the Caribbean islands of Tobago, he recorded Calypso – is like so ... in March 1957. On the album, released through Capitol Records, he emulated the calypso sound and style, even adopting the style's unique pronunciations and slang. A year later, he recorded a song he had written for Thunder Road, titled "The Ballad of Thunder Road". The country-style song became a modest hit for Mitchum, reaching number 69 on the Billboard Pop Singles chart. The song was included as a bonus track on a successful reissue of Calypso ... and helped market the film to a wider audience.

Although Mitchum continued to use his singing voice in his film work, he waited until 1967 to record his follow-up record, That Man, Robert Mitchum, Sings. The album, released by Nashville-based Monument Records, took him further into country music, and featured songs similar to "The Ballad of Thunder Road". "Little Old Wine Drinker Me", the first single, was a top-10 hit at country radio, reaching number nine there, and crossed over onto mainstream radio, where it peaked at number 96. Its follow-up, "You Deserve Each Other", also charted on the Billboard Country Singles chart. He sang the title song to the Western Young Billy Young, made in 1969.

Mitchum made a departure from his typical screen persona with the 1970 David Lean film Ryan's Daughter, in which he starred as Charles Shaughnessy, a mild-mannered schoolmaster in World War I–era Ireland. At the time of filming, Mitchum was going through a personal crisis and planned to commit suicide. Aside from a personal crisis, his recent films had been critical and commercial flops. Screenwriter Robert Bolt told him that he could commit suicide after the film was finished and that he would personally pay for his burial. Though the film was nominated for four Academy Awards (winning two) and Mitchum was much publicized as a contender for a Best Actor nomination, he was not nominated. George C. Scott won the award for his performance in Patton, a project Mitchum had rejected for Ryan's Daughter.

The 1970s featured Mitchum in a number of well-received crime dramas. The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973) had the actor playing an aging Boston hoodlum caught between the Feds and his criminal friends. Sydney Pollack's The Yakuza (1974) transplanted the typical film noir story arc to the Japanese underworld. He also appeared in 1976's Midway about an epic 1942 World War II battle. Mitchum's stint as an aging Philip Marlowe in the Raymond Chandler adaptation Farewell, My Lovely (1975) was sufficiently well received by audiences and critics for him to reprise the role in 1978's The Big Sleep.

In 1982, Mitchum played Coach Delaney in the film adaptation of playwright/actor Jason Miller's 1973 Pulitzer Prize-winning play That Championship Season.

At the premiere for That Championship Season, Mitchum, while intoxicated, assaulted a female reporter and threw a basketball that he was holding (a prop from the film) at a female photographer from Time magazine, injuring her neck and knocking out two of her teeth. She sued him for $30 million for damages. The suit eventually "cost him his salary from the film."

That Championship Season may have indirectly led to another debacle for Mitchum several months later. In a February 1983 Esquire interview, he made several racist, anti-Semitic and sexist statements, including, when asked if the Holocaust occurred, responded "so the Jews say." Following the widespread negative response, he apologized a month later, saying that his statements were "prankish" and "foreign to my principle." He claimed that the problem had begun when he recited a racist monologue from his role in That Championship Season, the writer believing the words to be his own. Mitchum, who claimed that he had only reluctantly agreed to the interview, then decided to "string... along" the writer with even more incendiary statements.

Mitchum expanded to television work with the 1983 miniseries The Winds of War. The big-budget Herman Wouk story aired on ABC, starring Mitchum as naval officer "Pug" Henry and Victoria Tennant as Pamela Tudsbury, and examined the events leading up to America's involvement in World War II. He returned to the role in 1988's War and Remembrance, which continued the story through the end of the war.

In 1984, Mitchum entered the Betty Ford Center in Palm Springs, California for treatment of a drinking problem.

He played George Hazard's father-in-law in the 1985 miniseries North and South, which also aired on ABC.

Mitchum starred opposite Wilford Brimley in the 1986 made-for-TV movie Thompson's Run. A hardened con (Mitchum), being transferred from a federal penitentiary to a Texas institution to finish a life sentence as a habitual criminal, is freed at gunpoint by his niece (played by Kathleen York). The cop (Brimley) who was transferring him, and has been the con's lifelong friend and adversary for over 30 years, vows to catch the twosome.

In 1987, Mitchum was the guest-host on Saturday Night Live, where he played private eye Philip Marlowe for the last time in the parody sketch, "Death Be Not Deadly". The show ran a short comedy film he made (written and directed by his daughter, Trina) called Out of Gas, a mock sequel to Out of the Past. (Jane Greer reprised her role from the original film.) He also was in Bill Murray's 1988 comedy film, Scrooged.

In 1991, Mitchum was given a lifetime achievement award from the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures, in the same year he received the Telegatto award and in 1992 the Cecil B. DeMille Award from the Golden Globe Awards.

Mitchum continued to act in films until the mid-1990s, such as in Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man, and he narrated the Western Tombstone. He also appeared, in contrast to his role as the antagonist in the original, as a protagonist police detective in Martin Scorsese's remake of Cape Fear, but the actor gradually slowed his workload. His last film appearance was a small but pivotal role in the television biopic, James Dean: Race with Destiny, playing Giant director George Stevens. His last starring role was in the 1995 Norwegian movie Pakten.

A lifelong heavy smoker, Mitchum died on July 1, 1997, in Santa Barbara, California, due to complications of lung cancer and emphysema. He was about five weeks shy of his 80th birthday. His body was cremated and his ashes scattered at sea, though there is a plot marker in the Odd Fellows Cemetery in Delaware. He was survived by his wife of 57 years, Dorothy Mitchum (May 2, 1919 – April 12, 2014, Santa Barbara, California, aged 94); his sons, actors James Mitchum and Christopher Mitchum; and his daughter, writer Petrine Day Mitchum. His grandchildren, Bentley Mitchum and Carrie Mitchum, are actors, as was his younger brother, John, who died in 2001. Another grandson, Kian, is a successful model.

Mitchum is regarded by some critics as one of the finest actors of the Golden Age of Hollywood. Roger Ebert called him "the soul of film noir." Mitchum, however, was self-effacing; in an interview with Barry Norman for the BBC about his contribution to cinema, Mitchum stopped Norman in mid flow and in his typical nonchalant style, said, "Look, I have two kinds of acting. One on a horse and one off a horse. That's it." He had also succeeded in annoying some of his fellow actors by voicing his puzzlement at those who viewed the profession as challenging and hard work. He is quoted as having said in the Barry Norman interview that acting was actually very simple and that his job was to "show up on time, know his lines, hit his marks, and go home". Mitchum had a habit of marking most of his appearances in the script with the letters "n.a.r.", which meant "no action required", which critic Dirk Baecker has construed as Mitchum's way of reminding himself to experience the world of the story without acting upon it.

AFI's 100 Years...100 Stars lists Mitchum as the 23rd-greatest male star of classic Hollywood cinema. AFI also recognized his performance as the menacing rapist Max Cady and Reverend Harry Powell as the 28th and 29th greatest screen villains, respectively, of all time as part of AFI's 100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains. He provided the voice of the famous American Beef Council commercials that touted "Beef ... it's what's for dinner", from 1992 until his death.

A "Mitchum's Steakhouse" is in Trappe, Maryland, where Mitchum and his family lived from 1959 to 1965.

#robert mitchum #classic hollywood #classic movie stars #golden age of hollywood #old hollywood #1940s hollywood #1950s hollywood #1960s hollywood #1970s hollywood #1980s hollywood #1990s hollywood #hollywood legend

18 notes · View notes

mothergayselle · 3 years

Text

The Bad, Bad Mages -- Cullen/Dorian/Lavellan

rating: T words: 3.5k summary: dorian and lavellan make a bet and cullen thinks she’s literally gonna die lmao but are we surprised

A/N: normalize cullavellan bickering 2021

read on ao3

Dating a mage was new for Cullen. As a former Templar, it was to be expected. An entire youth was spent reading about magic, studying how to intercept spells and nullify their effects. Even in the Tower, rumors about mage-templar relationships seeped into the walls, tantalizing the nearest ear with delicious, naughty details of the affair. Experimental magic in bed gone wrong, boyfriends and girlfriends stolen from the other -- the large replica of Andraste in the sanctuary defiled by unspeakable acts performed by the coupled… gossip like that wasn’t uncommon at all.

But that, as Cullen learned later, wasn’t magic. The faulty experiments in bed… perhaps… had merit. In Lavellan’s defense however, those were on him.

All of it, even the oop-sies, helped contribute to the fact that his relationship with magic changed as he and Lavellan grew close. She was patient and helped him deconstruct all of the learned misconceptions taught by the Chantry... albeit, in an abrupt or Lavellan-like manner.

Initially, Lavellan had chosen to speak to very few people about herself. Burdened by the weight of the proverbial crown and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of humans within the vicinity, Lavellan was often quiet. Only Solas was privy to her thoughts, a fact that had consistently annoyed Cullen, taunting from the back of his mind whenever he’d found a moment to himself.

What was even more distressing were the commonalities between the two elves: their mutually shared heritage -- despite Solas’s protests -- and their magic. Cullen couldn’t have anticipated that Lavellan would ever choose him. However, in the daydreams that had allowed for such a blessing, he’d imagined himself the most diligent student, an endlessly submissive disciple to the arcane arts rooted in the most basic parts of her identity.

She would show him everything she desired, and he’d be so pleased to be wrong and corrected, and how glorious it would feel to finally release his learned hatred for what was so obviously a beautiful and fantastical way of life --

“Well, go on then, you coward!”

Cullen paused the mental frivolities and looked up from his station.

The warm, spring day was mild, a promise of life in the coming months. It wasn’t often that he worked outside, at the desk originally set up for him upon their arrival at Skyhold. It had little privacy, too much noise, and too many dauldings to ignore. The sun felt nice though, and was compelling to even the hardiest Ferelden after the cold months. When the weather agreed, it was an occasional indulgence.

The majority of his days were spent pouring over paperwork and reports from the Inquisition’s military, so he was surprised to hear Dorian nearby. The mage rarely ventured outside the library and when he did, it was usually for something nefarious. Which meant more paperwork for Cullen. The likelihood of this increased when Cullen realized Dorian sounded happy.

One of Sera’s pranks, perhaps. A bucket of ale thrown on an unsuspecting fool, a flock of chickens released at an inopportune moment. The possibilities were endless really, but as long as it didn’t concern him, Cullen wasn’t too perturbed. This was another thing to ignore. Nothing to report or intervene with. Nothing that would result in serious injury, and minor report accidents could always be done away with. Sigh. Mages. No. Not mages. People.

Dorian’s face glowed copper in the weak sunlight, and was inclined to the top of the front gate and its adjacent battlements. A feeling of unease tingled down Cullen’s spine as he followed Dorian’s gaze from where he sat at his desk. So, a serious injury report after all.

A lone figure poised on top of the tall entrance, and although collapses of the psyche weren’t exactly uncommon at Skyhold, it always chilled Cullen to behold the various ways a person could destroy themselves. He’d talked many a soldier down from such a precipice, and so his mind instantly launched itself into those memories, attempting to retrieve the helpful things he could say to this person who was so clearly experiencing a break in their psyche -- although, why in the world would Dorian ever encourage something as horrific as that?

Because Cullen was a ruddy, stupid idiot. That’s why.

It was her hair. It was always, indubitably, the first thing he noticed about her. The inhuman, eternally stunning, silver hue of her hair that was somehow white and not white at the same time.

Normally, Cullen’s finely-tuned, battle instincts would’ve had him on his feet within the second -- weapon drawn, muscles taut with the routine of one-thousand encounters. This was a different kind of war however, and Cullen felt his body lock down with terror. He was, for the first time in his life, frozen at the sight of his soulmate teeter-tottering atop of an eighty-foot wall as if it was nothing more than the height of the ladder in his room.

He was also extensively, at length, confused.

“Shut up, Dorian!” Lavellan yelled back.

Did she not see Cullen right there -- as he had been the whole afternoon, working -- watching her now?

“I want to wait for the wind to stop, first.”

He didn’t need to see in order to know how hard he was clenching the edges of his desk. He could feel the meager wood loosen beneath his palms. He didn’t know where his voice was. Had he been born with one? Cullen couldn’t recall. He could only observe without understanding and shift his gaze from one mage to the other as they bantered.

Dorian preened his robes as if they were the most important things in the world. “If you want to call it quits, just say so, dear. There’s no shame in backing out of a bet.” He paused. “Well, that’s not exactly true. There’s permanent, soul-crushing shame, of course. The personal kind. But one should then think of how fast the legends of your great, colossal cowardice will spread across Thedas, weakening the Inquisition’s influence, undermining its authority in every part of the wor--”

Dorian’s ceaseless monologue ended the moment Lavellan dashed forward, completing one, full stride before leaping into the air.

Cullen felt himself physically choke on the air in his lungs as it rushed forth, spewing out of his body. Without consciously moving, he was on his feet at once, bracing the bulk of his weight against his desk as Lavellan swan-dived into the lethal space separating her body from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen saw Dorian’s cheeks lift, as if he were pleased with the decision. Satisfied, somehow.

Lavellan seemed to fall for an eternity. Her hair, loose, was a silver flame trailing after a comet. No scream. Nothing to suggest either terror or exhilarance. The soldiers he’d been too late to save -- some of them had screamed on the way down. If given the chance, Cullen would’ve bet on their regret at the halfway mark.

In the other, more various scenario, there’d been some sort of marker to reveal the purpose of the exercise. A hollowed out wagon filled with hay to catch new assassins-in-training should they lose balance, or something along the likes. He didn't know the details of this or if it was safe -- all he had was the visual of the Inquisitor bound by a free-fall and rapidly advancing towards a dismount she wouldn’t survive.

Suddenly all of the purpose in his life seemed to flee, leaving nothing behind but an emptiness that felt every bit as terminal as the inevitable impact of Lavellan’s body dashing to pieces.

No.

He bolted out from behind his desk and prepared to catch her himself. Dorian stiffened as he passed -- irrelevant information to file away -- and Cullen flung himself into the sparse throng of bystanders who’d stopped to watch. She was but a slice of color above him, and he frantically searched for a way to soften his arms, cursing the hard, metal bracers he favored. Perhaps the trick was to relax his elbows so that she would sink naturally into them.

Bones would break, of course, but he’d do his best. Solas was talented at healing spells. As uncomfortable as that would be, he knew Solas would help.

Cullen planned to ride out the impact alongside it and defer to the natural laws of gravity. Instead of catching her without movement, he’d bend at the knees, dispelling the force of her fall into his own legs and hopefully away from her body.

For her head and neck, he could widen the space between his arms, making room for the back of her skull to connect so there wasn’t room for whiplash. Of course, if her skull connected with the metal bracers too harshly, that would kill her as well. Would she, in her terror, raise a barrier to protect herself before contact? Would the instinct to survive override whatever instinct pushed her off the gate? Was that the only thing that could save her?

Cullen, hazardously alert, projected his consciousness into every fiber of his body. No battle before had ever been this important. Not Kirkwall, not Corypheus, not even his own torture at Kinloch Hold. He would save Lavellan from herself and whatever moronic horseplay Dorian conned her into, and he stepped forward once more, leveling with her, whole-heartedly determined not to miss…

Lavellan passed over his head with ease, blurring with magic. She hopped in and out of the Fade -- a new ability to her ever-expanding arsenal -- and materialized above the ground beside him. The sound of shoulder blades scraping grass and dirt kicked up behind his back. A safety roll, to displace the momentum. Of course. And then, she was on her feet again. He’d felt the soft, separate vibrations of her boots register in the earth. The sound of her laughter followed.

… how incredibly IMBECILIC he was! Senseless! A fool! A bone-brained buffoon! He was Orlesian, but worse. Could he remember their national hymn? Cullen scrambled to find the words. Orlesian sycophants sang of their stupid, mother country. As a stupid Orlesian, Cullen was also required to sing.

How had he ever completed Templar training? He was dull as rock! The most unintelligent, somehow sentient creature to ever disgrace Thedas!

Death. That was the only honorable thing left. He would fall on his sword that night, and a good riddance to the most ridiculous waste of life the world had ever seen. Did his living will include Lavellan? He made a mental note to leave her out of it. Disown her entirely. Josephine could work out the details, but Cullen would make sure to capitalize every letter: LAVELLAN GETS NOTHING.

“Pay up, you pretentious oaf,” Lavellan spat, doubtlessly at Dorian. “And let this be a lesson that my pigheadedness is stronger than your vanity.”

Cullen was filled with stone. On the one hand, he was a bumbling ass -- his arms were still outstretched, waiting to fulfill a rescue that was never needed in the first place. On the other was the timbre of Lavellan’s voice. Breathless, but compelling. Playful. Adoring. Alive.

But not for long.

Mages. It was the MAGES! It had always been the mages! Evil, hateful minions of the dark. Cohorts of the lowly, manipulators of the real and solid. A tarnish to everything good. Bitter, poisonous vipers, infecting those around them with their wily wickedness. Cullen could see it now. What his life would be without their mischief constantly shredding his nerves like failed cheese! There would be a semblance of peace -- not much, but a morsel. Enough to survive on. Ampleness to purge the sick and twisted idiocy of magic from every corner of his existence.

He didn’t know what his face looked like, or if he still had one, but Cullen willfully lowered his arms. They felt like marble at his sides. A useless discarding of rock. They never would’ve been able to catch Lavellan like this. The simple texture of their skin would’ve killed her, smashed the bones in her body to dust. He was a simpleton for thinking he could have ever been of help.

He might’ve been wrong, but Cullen thought he was sweating. It was just as well. His physical form was clearly disintegrating under the guise that he was even remotely necessary to the world. Slowly, he commanded his feet to turn him around, to face the two mages and their heinous, flagrant disregard for his psychological well-being.

Whatever Dorian had said in response to Lavellan’s barb was lost in the haze of Cullen’s own fury. When Cullen successfully rotated, Dorian’s glimmering eyes flickered from the elf’s onto his. They blazed violently. Glee. Joy at his suffering.

Evil.

Hateful.

A devious, cat-like smirk pulled at the corners of Dorian’s mouth. He looked back to the Inquisitor, squaring his shoulders in what Cullen thought to be a show of smugness.

“Yes, darling I hear you,” he said. A musical inflection seeped into his voice as he spoke. “A bottomless pit of humiliation and everything. Et cetera, et cetera. Now, may I direct your attention to a matter more pressing than my gigantic, unquenchable ego?”

There was minute comfort as Lavelan stiffened. Oh, look! What a familiar posture! Was that anxiety she was feeling? How novel!

Evil.

Cullen watched the color drain out of her. It was a slow process. Lavellan had become tanned during her escapades into the wilderness, darkening even the freckles dug across her cheeks and nose. Without the blush, only the violet in her irises were left, trembling with unease as she pivoted.

Even the vallaslin on her forehead, normally a blood and wine color, paled. It was almost comical how bleached and palid she was, leaving the most elven things about her to glow in defense of her now lifeless visage.

They didn’t say anything at first. On a typical day, just the sight of her was enough to wind Cullen. He would melt with love for her and all of the silly antics, at her impish delight in always getting her way. Her way was usually the best way, at any rate. It was hard to disagree with such an amazing woman who was so caring, so thoughtful about the needs of others.

The blood leaking out of her must have found its way into his body, because he suddenly felt on fire, exploded from the inside out by all of the heat. Was the sun mocking him as well? Had it increased its intensity just to spite him?

The fact that she didn’t apologize right away was obnoxious. He was going to wait for it, for the eloquent, persuasive speech she would certainly give -- she always did when in trouble -- but there was only her silence. The horror in her eyes at being exposed. The fear of a mere scolding etched all over her face.

“You just HAD to, didn’t you!?” Cullen shouted. Had he meant to yell? Probably not. This was good, though. Their first public fight. The Inquisitor and Commander. Nothing inappropriate about that.

Whatever worry about being reproached was visibly replaced with petulance. Such a child sometimes. Lavellan’s brow crumpled, and new blood found its way into her cheekbones as she yelled back at him.

“Yes, actually! I did! Dorian said I wouldn’t clear the jump and you know how I feel about being challenged like that!”

Cullen felt the familiar tug of the scar on his lip that contorted whenever he was angry. “I do know, Ellana. I know that you’re nigh a mabari, but STUPID! Idiotic! Who’s made you this dumb? Should we get you a tutor?”

He ignored the blushed darkening of her vallaslin, which had always fascinated him. Twining, coiling lines of devotion to a patron god. In her culture, to choose a vallaslin was to choose the deity behind it, which Lavellan would soon need because Cullen would throw her off the battlements himself. Let her barrel roll out of that.

Ellana rolled her eyes at the insult. “You Fereldens and your dogs. Always needing to establish dominance, which is exactly my point!”

Cullen grit his teeth together. “Dominance? Why would you ever need to dominate Dorian--”

“--Ooh, now that’s an intriguing idea--”

“--when all he amounts to is a spoiled, rich brat who plays with corpses?!” Dorian earned a glare for interrupting.

Dorian, still glowing in the warm, spring day, tutted at Cullen. “I believe the word you’re referring to is necromancing, good captain.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed to slits and Dorian grinned, showing Cullen his hands, palms out. Homicide wouldn’t help the situation. Probably. He had to remember to breathe, to inhale through the nose. Recalibrating with a shake of the head, Lavellan’s gaze was still when he returned to it.

He expected her to shout back at him, defend her best friend, but what she did surprised him. Lavellan cocked her head. Chewed on the side of her cheek and then laughed. All of the stress in her vallaslin smoothed out at once.

“Well, you’re not… wrong,” she conceded. Dorian grimaced behind her, as if he’d smelled something rotten and spent festering nearby. Then, the creeping, unconquerable smile she wore when she knows she’s won began slithering onto her awful, sinful, depraved, beautiful mage-face.

“In fairness,” she crooned, “I can now buy you the Orlesian whetstone you’ve wanted for so long.”

FUCKING Orlesians. Cullen didn’t know who was more corruptible than them, save for mages. Stinking, destructive mages.

Cullen did note the proud look on Dorian’s face as Lavellan knowingly hoodwinked him into submission. Which, now that he thought about it, was also public!

“You’re going to kill me,” was all he said. A simple revelation. The rage drained away and marble arms returned to flesh. What did his face look like now? Calm? Resigned to his inevitable, eventual death?

Lavellan cocked her head again, swaying like a teenage girl in love. Overdoing a bit, if you asked him. The final nail in the coffin.

“Well, if I do,” she started, “I could always bring you back.” And then she proceeded to lift her left hand -- the Anchor hand. Its green magic pulsed as if to emphasize the promise. Or, was it a threat?

Dorian stifled a laugh when Cullen’s mouth audibly popped open.

Magic was terrifying. She was terrifying.

He’d meant to bring a hand to his face, to rub away the stiffness in it. When the glove connected though, Cullen heard a loud slap echo across the courtyard. Lavellan flinched. Maybe the gesture had been too violent? He didn’t feel it. He was only aware of the ache in his head -- a timeless throbbing -- as if the pain had always been there. Because of magic, obviously.

Lavellan’s mouth curled with a new smile. “Maybe you should go rest, Cullen. I promise not to jump off anything else today. Sound good?”

He wished she would just shut up because everything she was saying only made it worse. Cullen knew he would have nightmares about this day… as if he didn’t have enough already. Pointy, horrible dreams about her willingly jumping to her death would probably never leave him, and it was all of her fault. And magic’s.

“Yeah. I’m going to go… slip into a coma or something.” But of course, Lavellan could always rip the Fade apart just to find and bring him back -- a horrific addendum.

But, no. Only one thing mattered now. His bed. Technically, it was Lavellan’s bed, as he’d taken to sleeping with her at night. Under normal circumstances he would’ve been too shy to slip into her room during the day. So many people around to gossip. Not that their relationship was a secret, but it was the principle of the thing. A demerit in the gentlemen’s code.

Although, because she’d single-handedly ripped the nerves from his body, he’d never have to worry about anything else ever again! With Lavellan’s bed and a few hours of unbothered rest, he’d be as good and traumatized as any other well-adjusted person in the Inquisition.

Cullen shuffled forward, pausing, because the normal routine called for a kiss on the forehead. Before he lowered himself however, his eyes narrowed of their own accord, squinting like two astrariums which combed through her face, scouring it for an iota of common sense.

Where was it? Smothered, choking behind all of the magic? Struggling to be set free and realized?

What has she done to you? Cullen wondered. What has the bad, villainous, shameful mage put you through?

There was a glower to his face when he returned to it. More of a scowling really, as if she was the first darkspawn to ever curse the planet. Not too far off the mark. Elves could be darkspawn too, right? What were they called? Shrieks?

She looked up at him with ease. Lavellan knew she’d gotten away with it for the most part, so what else was there to do but pity him?

“I’ll meet you tonight,” she said, leaning up to kiss his forehead. The vallaslin stretched with her smile. Blood and wine and wayward, contemptible neglect for his mental well-being. Shimmering, fiendish, magnificent violet drilling into him, carving the soundness out, one blink at a time.

Words, incoherent, bubbled from him. A string of oaths, perhaps. He headed for the castle’s staircase when more words percolated. Loudly. He didn’t turn to personally tell her, nor did he modify the volume of his voice. He merely called into the air, letting all of the Inquisition -- and the Maker -- hear him as he headed to bed.

“You can sleep on the sodding ground for all I care. I’m locking your door.”

Lavellan would unlock it within the span of a single heartbeat, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that he was tired and emotionally scarred and she could leave her stinking, e v i l magic outside their bedroom entrance where, at least for that night, it could no longer disturb the very fabric of his soul.

If he launched her off the bedroom balcony and into the Frostbacks, would a safety roll still save her?

Something to consider.

#cullavellan #cullen rutherford #lavellan #dai #inquisition #da #dragon age #fanfics #mine #writing #dorian pavus

5 notes · View notes

penelope-darcy · 4 years

Photo

Name: Penelope “Penny” Victoria Darcy Birthday: May 11, 1990 Hometown: Los Angeles, California Career: Assistant District Attorney Relationship Status: Widowed

Bio

TW: car accident, death

.Penelope Victoria Nelson was born on a warm spring day to two people who are CEOs of a jet company. It made Penelope become a trust fund baby, getting anything and everything she wanted with a blink of an eye. However, Penny didn’t like being that kind of child. She spent her time helping at a senior center and different shelters. She always felt she was meant to help people instead of following her parents’ footsteps. As much as she loved her parents and who they were, she felt that their attention was never truly on her. She felt as though she had the nanny raised her, and it showed when she could call her nanny “mom.” With her nanny telling her that she didn’t have to follow her parents into their field, Penny felt a slight freedom to do what she wants with her own life.

So, that’s what she did. Besides volunteering, she donated her own money to different fundraisers. Even thought people assumed that she was stuck up by the private school uniform and fancy clothes/bags, she was truly outgoing and caring to people. Penny’s goals were to become a lawyer, hoping in prosecution, to help people out and getting the justice that she deserved. Especially after seeing the things she did when she volunteered. She truly wanted to make the world better and she wanted to do whatever she could to make that happen.

Penny went to USC to study criminology and psychology, letting herself get into the pre law program. She had her mind set and made the Dean’s list each semester, dedicating herself to her schooling, only partying or having fun when she didn’t have schoolwork to do. Graduating with a 4.0, Penny went into the law school program at USC to study criminal law. While she was getting her bachelor’s, she met a man named Michael Darcy. Michael was also in the pre law program and they hit it off almost immediately. They started dating a week after they met and in their first year of law school, he proposed to her. Although, waiting till they finished law school was not something they wanted to do, which led them to elope and have a wedding when they were done with school.

One day as they were driving to Palm Springs for a nice weekend together, a car plowed into the side of their car, Penny being the driver. While she got away with minor injuries, Michael died immediately on impact. That day changed her life completely and a void filled into her as she realized he was dead. It also led to survivor’s guilt, not really wanting to live for a period of time. However, she knew that he would want her to keep going and be happy, so she finished law school and passed the board. She is now in therapy for PTSD to help her handle what happened and try to live as normal of a life as possible.

Not wanting to live in LA anymore, due to the memories, Penny decided to pick up and move to Catalina Island where she felt she could start fresh. She got a job as an assistant district attorney at twenty seven and she loves her job to the core. As she made this town her home, she bought a house last year, where she lives with her Yorkie mix, Janis. She still keeps a part of Michael with her, wearing their wedding rings around her neck as a necklace. She is slowly working to move on and try to be happy with someone else, but it scares her at the same time.

Personality

When you first see Penny, you automatically think she’s a stuck up woman with her name brand clothes and accessories. However, once you get to know her, she’s really friendly, smart and cares about everyone around her. She tries to not take life too seriously, knowing that her late husband would want her to relax and have fun. Penny does have a wall up because of the car accident and goes to therapy for PTSD. She still blames herself to this day.

#about penny

2 notes · View notes

imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years

Note

Original Sin is so hot 😈👏

Thank you, Anon.

Here is a new one - hopefully you’ll feel the same about this when it gets to that point

Part ONE:

It was late in the evening when Claire arrived in Inverness. The tiny station was deserted, devoid of life, as the rain slatted around her. She waited patiently by the small designated pick up zone, her wheelie suitcase sitting idly by her side as she pulled her hood further over her head – the wind lifting it enough to allow brief splashes of rainwater to drip along her forehead.

“Claire – Claire Beauchamp? Is that you?” The voice came out of the passenger side of the old car, making her jump – her peripheral vision obscured by her hood – as it pulled up beside her.

“Yes,” she half shouted through the downpour, “are you…Mrs Fraser?” She asked as politely as she was able to in her current fatigued state.

Leaning over, the lady in the car pushed the side door open, her hand gesturing for Claire to come in out of the rain. Opening the boot, she slid her suitcase into the empty space before closing it again and finally folding herself into the dry, warm space.

“Ye can dispense with the ‘Mrs Fraser’ lark now, lass,” she joked openly, handing Claire a towel to dry herself, “that was my mother in law. I’m Ellen, and you can call me as such, aye? Since ye’ll be living wi’ us - there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

“Ellen.” Claire replied in a small friendly voice. Using the pro-offered towel, she dabbed the moisture from her face and neck, tugging at the zip on the top of her raincoat. “It’s nice to meet you at last after reading all of the lovely letters you’ve sent me the last few weeks.”

“Aye, same here.” Ellen returned, brightly.

Since losing her parents two summers ago in a horrendous car accident that had left Claire herself with some traumatic injuries, she’d been living hand to mouth in tents and on dig sites with her uncle Lamb. She’d refused to accept a place in boarding school on her release from hospital and had, instead, been travelling the globe with her erstwhile uncle – learning everything from Maths, English and Science to archaeology, herbology and ancient languages. But with her final school year now upon her, Lamb had insisted she return to Britain. A force to be reckoned with, Claire had fought her uncle but this time he was not to be moved and so as the end of another academic year had drawn to a close, Lamb had used his friendly contacts to procure Claire a short-term foster residence in which to complete her schooling and gain her some qualifications.

Brian and Ellen Fraser had answered the call. A friend of a friend had put them into contact and Ellen had begun, along with her eldest daughter, Jenny, corresponding with Claire so that she didn’t feel as if she were moving away to live with complete strangers.

Though it hadn’t made the move that much easier for Claire, she still felt a small motherly bond begin to grow with Ellen the more they exchanged letters.

“Have ye had something to eat?” Ellen asked as she turned the car around and indicated to pull back out onto the main road. “There isna much choice at this time of night, as I’m sure you’ll understand, but we can find ye something if yer hungry.”

“I’m fine, thank you, Ellen. I had a snack in Glasgow when I changed trains.”

At fifteen, Claire -although still very much considered a minor in the eyes of the law- felt more at ease with her place in the world than others her own age. Jenny, the eldest of the Fraser brood, was two years her senior and was about to go into her last year at school – hopefully completing her Scottish Advanced Highers before going off to university. Jamie, the youngest, was the same age as Claire and Ellen had spoken (with glowing excitement) about how happy she was for him to have a peer in the house who might encourage him with his own studies. Claire was not so enamoured by the prospect.

For so long she had been by herself; an only child, she had no siblings and had mostly kept herself to herself -even when she had been in the public-school system. With Lamb she had flourished, her ability to blend and morph with her surroundings exacerbated under his ever-watchful eye. Nonetheless, she was grateful that Ellen had been willing to take her in.

“Ye still have another few weeks before school starts up again,” Ellen said as they crossed the bridge out of the city and made their way onwards to Lallybroch, the Fraser ancestral home. “You have plenty of time, and hopefully ye’ll get some sun to start up the garden ye wanted, aye? Jenny and Jamie have cleared away the old plot out towards the back of the house. Brian and Jamie even erected a wee shed for you to keep any tools ye might want. It’s only small, aye, but it’s a space that just ye have to continue yer hobbies.”

Tired and overwhelmed by her long journey, Claire wiped the tears from her eyes as she realised the amount of effort Ellen and the family had gone through to make her arrival run smoothly and she forgot, immediately, all of her doubts and misgivings about the situation. She missed her mother terribly, and although this could never bring her back, Ellen had already done a fair amount to show herself to be a successful surrogate.

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble just for me, Ellen, honestly.”

“Aye, I did.” She said staunchly, taking Claire’s hand gently, squeezing it before letting it go and taking hold of the wheel once more.

Ellen and Brian, Claire had learned early on in their conversations, had lost two of their own children. William, the eldest, had contracted meningitis and had passed away suddenly when Jenny and Jamie were only young. It had hit the family hard and (as Jenny had said in her private letters) Jamie hadn’t ever fully recovered from it. Robert, who would have been the youngest, was born only a year after but had only lived a few hours. Once again left devastated, Ellen had devoted the rest of her life -not only to her own children- but also to others and on various occasions they had fostered (both long and short term) children in care for various reasons.

It was this that had prompted Ellen to assist Lamb in taking care of Claire. She was a daughter without a mother, Ellen a mother who’d tragically lost two of her own children, and Lamb had felt drawn to the Frasers for that very reason. They could give Claire the loving home she needed in these final years of her adolescence.

So, it made sense that Ellen would walk through fire to make sure Claire felt wanted in their home.

Pulling off the thin main road, Ellen steered the car down a narrow lane as the dark bush swallowed them whole. It was still quite a way before it opened up to reveal a lovely tiny village, the old brick buildings with Tudor features standing out bright in the moonlight.

“We’re no’ far up here, lass.” Ellen stated quietly, the steady hum of the engine the only soothing sound present as they drove onwards.

Claire had begun to dry off now and the idea of a nice clean bed with soft cotton sheets ignited her bone-tired body as she perked up, watching the scenery go by as they drove slowly through the village.

“Broch Tuarach is only a wee community, no’ many of us left really. The lack of industry around these parts drove a lot back into the city, or back towards Beauly. That means there are lots of holiday let cottages around here – you’ll notice – which remain empty, or are rarely let, through the term time months and then summer springs up and it’s teaming wi’ guests. Our Jenny tends to a lot of them, taking care of the changeover. It’s been a good wee earner for her and she’s saved quite a bit of money. If ye ever wanted to join her, I’m sure she’d be glad of the company?”

Nodding, Claire rubbed her sore eyes and covered her mouth as she yawned silently.

Nothing more was said between the pair as Ellen indicated and turned into the long winding drive. The trees were well maintained here, cut back well off the path to allow vehicles to pass along it without taking half of the foliage with it. It looked beautiful in the greying twilight, the droplets of raining falling through the boughs and hitting the roof of the car as Claire leaned closer to the window to get a better look. It was then she saw the house, the large arch obscuring most of it as they drove up and under it.

“This is home, aye. It’s been in the family for a long time. Brian’s namesake built it back in the early 1700’s. It survived through the Scottish uprising at Culloden when we managed, by the skin of our teeth, to keep under Fraser rule and we aim to maintain it for some years to come.”

“Do you work the farm all by yourself?” Claire asked curiously as she and Ellen exited the car and met by the boot.

“Oh aye, Brian does most of the work wi’ the help of his crew but there’s only two men that work here now. Jenny and Jamie pitch in too, when their studies allow.”

“Wow,” Claire exclaimed quietly, “that must be a lot of work.”

“Och, it is, but we’re no’ shy of it. I spend most of my time working out the finances and keeping the pension plans up to date for the lads so I dinna spend as much time out on the farm as I’d like. Bureaucracy these days is hard work, but the papers must be filed, and the taxes done so that falls to me.”

By the time they’d fetched Claire’s suitcase from the boot the rain had stopped completely leaving the air tasting crisp and clean. The night was still and calm, the outside world silent apart from the distant cry of one lonesome owl making Claire feel instantly relaxed. If it was possible, and she still felt the same in the morning, she would call Lamb and thank him for persuading her to come.

Before they’d reached the front door, a tall man with a mop of black hair opened it, the yellow light illuminating him from behind as he rushed out to bring Claire’s case inside. Reaching for her hand, he took it dutifully, his palm large and warm on her own as she smiled shyly up at him.

“Hello, Claire, I hope Ellen’s driving didna scare ye too much. She’s a reputation about these parts for her Lewis Hamilton like ability to drive through the roads at great speed -even in her wee auld thing. I’m Brian, and I’m verra glad to meet you.” He chuckled lowly, his deep baritone carrying across the enclosed drive as he took Claire, his hand freeing hers as he managed to guide her inside with barely any human contact.

Her leg twinged at the thought, the now mostly healed injury flaring up at the mention of cars and speed. She wasn’t debilitated by her accident but every now and again something would stir a painful memory and the metal pins in her leg would throb – the muscle recalling the moment of penetration as shards of metal tore her thigh apart. “No,” she whispered, her lungs struggling to process air as she shook off the feeling, “not at all.” Continuing, Claire regained her faculties as she smiled shakily. “It was a really lovely, comfy journey. Better than the frigid train any day.”

“Weel, ye can meet Jenny and Jamie tomorrow, they’re both well asleep by now. How about I show ye to yer room and you can get yerself more settled?” He said as he took her suitcase by the handle. “El, love, get yerself to bed too.”

“Dinna be soft,” she rolled her eyes as she followed Brian and Claire along the corridor, “is there anything I can get ye to drink, Claire? We don’t allow the kids to take food upstairs, but water, juice or tea is fine. There are quite a few tapestries hung in the office and some of the bedrooms and the flooring is pretty old, so we have to be careful up there – but dinna be afraid to have something by yer bedside at night.”

“I’m alright for now.” Claire returned, blushing at the mere thought. Although she was quite self-aware, she was well known for some minor klutz-like behaviours and she didn’t want to knock a full cup of water over some priceless antique on her first night.

Leading her upstairs, Brian and Ellen pointed out various period features of the house; the banister with its old wood and ancient gouge marks where swords had been driven deep into the grain leaving brutal marks on the beautiful surface; detailed portraits of Fraser past; their likenesses covering the hall landings and the long runners that had been lovingly sewn and laid early in the 1900’s – so Brian thought. Lamb would love it, Claire thought as her eyes darted here and there, taking in as much as she could.

Her room was on the first floor right at the end of the hall and had been updated recently it seemed.

“We’ve tried to add some modern features, aye?” Ellen said when Claire had finished exploring. The room had a main suite with a small partition that kept the study space separate from the bed and wardrobe. It also had a very nice en-suite with toilet and wet room shower. “This part of the house had fire damage. Sometime between the wars as it was updated this side, unfortunately, caught alight. The electrics we think. It was quite a common occurrence, but it meant that we could update the rooms without losing any of the charm that the rest of the home has managed to retain.”

“But enough of the tales, aye,” Brian interjected, “I think the lass needs her bed now.”

“Thank you.” Claire turned as Ellen and Brian made to leave, their hands resting over the door handle as Brian allowed Ellen to step into the hall slightly in front of him. Seeing them, the way they hovered around one another, their bodies almost fully in sync with one another made her think of her parents and her heart ached at the thought. “For everything, I really appreciate it and I know that uncle Lamb does. Truly.”

“Sleep well, Claire.” Ellen and Brian said together.

Closing the door behind them – they left her alone to get undressed and crawl into bed. Sleep found her easily, the heat of the thick duvet cocooning her as her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out.

She slept undisturbed, her mind and body too tired for even dreaming and when she awoke, her alarm beeping quietly where it lay beneath her pillow, night had made way for day and the dim sunlight now lit the previously darkened room. The curtains hadn’t been closed, Claire preferring the sight of the stars in the sky to complete blackness. Rubbing her eyes, she dragged herself out from beneath the duvet, searched through her case for her toiletries and closed the door to the private bathroom behind her.

Showered and with her teeth cleaned thoroughly, Claire peeked her head around the door and smiled at the scent of breakfast cooking below her. Her stomach rumbled, her terrible airport sandwich long forgotten in the presence of bacon and eggs as she tiptoed along the corridor and back down the stairs to find the Frasers sitting leisurely in the lounge with the radio on for background noise.

“Good morning, Claire,” Ellen said rather chirpily, picking up her cup from where it balanced precariously on her knee and standing to greet her, “I ken ye’ve spoken, but this is Jenny,” she said, patting her daughter on the shoulder as she stood too and smiled widely at Claire. “And this is Jamie,” she continued, ruffling the lads hair as he shook her off and joined them both. “Brian is out milking, but we wanted to ensure we were all here when ye awoke and no’ absent. Not on yer first morning.”

Jenny was just as she’d imagined; the spitting image of her mother in terms of figure and stance but with her father’s lush black hair. Jamie, however, was not. He was tall, lionine but broad, his longish red hair curling around his ears, his bright blue eyes friendly and captivating as he stood head and shoulders above his mother. Nothing like the spotty, scrawny teen she’d imagined him to be.

“Nice to finally meet you all.” She said, shaking off the obvious assessment she was making of the pair and bringing herself fully into the room.

Jenny stepped forward first, bringing her arms around Claire’s shoulders and pulling her in for a nice hug as she kissed her on the cheek. “Likewise, we’ve been excited about yer arrival since yer uncle called to say he’d persuaded you.”

Claire blushed at her words, her immediate reaction to the move seeming daft now she was here in their company. “I’m glad too. Your home is so beautiful.”

“It’s yer home now too, Claire.” Jamie piped up, his accent so like his father’s – yet his hair and eyes belonged solely to Ellen. Looking at them both, she couldn’t help but wonder what William and Robert would have looked like – whose features would they have adopted in the genetic lottery but she brushed the thought aside and held her hand out to greet Jamie properly.

“Nice to meet you too, Jamie.” She murmured, her attention captured by his bright, eager blue eyes.

He, too, seemed taken with her and they stood, their hands touching for just a breath too long.

“Time to show her the sights, I think lad.” Brian interjected, breaking the moment as his head popped out from behind the kitchen door. He passed them through a collection of breakfast butties, wrapped neatly in greaseproof paper as he eyed his son up and down making Claire turn away, the embarrassment at being caught in such a delicate moment showing plainly on her face. “I’ve made ye all something nice so ye willna go hungry, but I think it would be nice for ye bairns to eat al-fresco today.”

“Fine dining at its best.” Ellen agreed, patting both Jenny and Jamie on the back as she winked at Claire, some manner of humour in her eyes.

The walk across Lallybroch’s wild farmland was incredible and Claire couldn’t keep her eyes off the epic scenery. It wasn’t until they reached the ancient mill that Jenny laid out the gingham rug and placed the breakfasts in the middle. “The wheel doesna often turn anymore because the water levels don’t rise as they used to but when it does it makes the most glorious noise, aye. The churning can be heard in the barn, the cows love it when we’re milking, it soothes them hearing the rushing water pass over the wooden beams.”

“It’s a shame, really.” Jamie continued, passing Claire a small carton of juice as he pierced the top of his own and drank noisily. “We maintain it well, but the stream is fed from the loch which has some active subsidence on the right-hand side meaning the water doesna rise there as it used to. There’s a smaller stream running off the south of it now where there wasn’t before and although it’s quite inland, the tides still play and active role in how it rises and falls. This stream is becoming lower and lower. In a hundred years or so it might dry up completely.”

Claire’s knowledge of Geography and Geology was limited, so she just nodded as she took a large bite of her sausage, bacon and egg sandwich, agreeing silently instead of adding to a discussion she knew little about. Feeling out of her depth, she didn’t let herself think too much about the impending new term -focusing instead on the steady flow of the stream- as Jamie’s words echoed in her mind.

“You have a loch on your land?” She said, finally breaking the silence as she looked up as if her stare would part the trees and the vast body of water would open up before her eyes.

“Oh aye,” Jenny returned, “it isna like Loch Lomond or Loch Ness, but it’s pretty special to us. Maybe more so to Jamie.” She jested, laughing and trying to cover it up with the back of her hand as she regained her composure.

“Hush, Jenny.” Jamie castigated, his tone low and dangerous as he shook his head.

“I’m sensing there’s a story behind that jibe.” Tucking her curls back behind her ear, Claire turned back to the siblings and cocked her head to the side.

Silence fell over them once more before both Jamie and Jenny burst into a chorus of loud guffaws, their laughter reverberating around them as they fell about until stitch got the better of them. Claire smiled at the easiness of their interaction. Clearly it was an embarrassing story, but neither seemed put off and, instead, were joking about it.

“Over on the north side of the loch,” Jamie began, wiping the tears from his eyes as he started the tale, “there is a thicket that’s quite well hidden…or so I thought. I used to go there a lot, in my younger teenage years. I’d swim mainly, but only during the warm spring and summer months.”

“Tell her how you like to swim, Jamie lad.” Jenny interrupted cheekily.

Jamie coughed. “Yer a wee fiend, Jen.” He muttered, but not unkindly. “I didna have any clothes on, that’s why, Claire, my sister thinks it’s so funny, aye? I was there, swimming, happily… on my own. When who should appear? But Jenny and two of her gossipy friends from school. Out of nowhere. I couldna escape so I just loitered in the water, thinking they’d pass by and I could get out – no harm done. But one of them saw me. Then she saw my pile of discarded clothes.”

“Och, Laoghaire didna mean anything by it, Jamie.” Jenny soothed, her voice dripping with false apology.

“Aye she did!” Jamie returned, not believing it for a second. “She was a vicious wee harpy that one, Jen and she’d fancied me for ages—”

Jenny scoffed, and Claire laughed as jealousy bubbled up inside her.

“She had, dinna you deny it.”

“They took your clothes?” Claire added, guessing the end of the story from the tell-tale blush that had begun to race across Jamie’s face starting from his neck upwards.

“Aye, that’s what Laoghaire did. Took my clothes and then goaded me from the bank to come out and get them off her. But I wasna about to run around chasing a lassie in my birthday suit.”

“So, he swam, like a fish he was, to the other side of the loch. He did it so fast that she couldna sprint around the side and he was home and dressed before we all made it back. Talk about Usain Bolt, ye had a bee in yer bonnet about that for days afterwards.”

Placing all of the litter into the bag that had once carried their breakfast, Jamie began tidying up their little picnic as a look of nostalgia passed across his face. “Of course I did. If I’d done that to her it would have been labelled as harassment.” Mumbling something unintelligible, he went about clearing the space, Jenny and Claire standing so that he could pack up the blanket. “When she asked me out afterwards I gave her the pleasure of telling her as much. She didna much care for my assessment of the situation.”

“Ye were right though.” Jenny sighed.

“Glad ye finally think so.”

The walk home was fairly sedate with the story of Jamie’s nudist activities still in all of their minds.

“The band of trees to the left there, can ye see?” Pointing over the rolling fields, Jamie suddenly broke the quiet as he spotted the small forest. “That’s the end of Fraser lands. Up further than that there is some owned by the council for rental and then further on is where the Grant’s still live and farm. We’re the only two families around here that survived the cull after Culloden so it’s pretty special to us.”

Sneaking away and leaving the pair, Jenny kissed Claire on the cheek and made her apologies as she made her way back to the main house to get ready for work – the cottages she maintained often had a late checkout but it was going on for mid-morning now and she still needed to drive into the village to do a minor top up on supplies before she started.

“It’s so idyllic up here, Jamie,” Claire whispered, her gaze captivated by the lush, verdant green that surrounded them. She’d been used to the desert. The gaping creamy yellow that ran for miles rending some insensible by its garish heat. For a long while after her parent’s death she had been drawn to the nothingness that encased her, the moist warmth reminding her that she was far away from home. But here, now, it felt good to be back on British soil.

“Aye, it is. We’re verra lucky to have this all on our doorsteps.”

It was clear from just the few hours she’d spent in their company, that Jenny and Jamie were more like her than she could have imagined and less like the sort of teenagers she’d envisaged meeting on her arrival in Scotland. Young in body but older in mind, Jamie had almost immediately captivated her and she was hooked on his each and every move he made though she tried to bury some of the more complex feelings building as she stood by his side and looked out over the verdant land in front of her.

“Welcome home, Claire,” he said interrupting her thoughts as he placed his hand gently on her shoulder, “I hope that ye’ll soon grow to consider us family. I know mam and da already think of ye as another daughter, and Jenny and I are glad yer here, too.”

“Me too, Jamie.” She sighed, turning and following him as they silently made their way back to the house a sort of pleasant breeze surrounding them both as they walked.

#;Mod MBD #jamie x claire

242 notes · View notes