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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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More Than Today (Richard Winters x Reader)

So this has been in my wips for MONTHS. But here we are! I know its also been a hot minute since I’ve written any BOB fics. Sorry, friends. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: a couple swear words (thanks Nixon)

Words: 2750

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m @saritanotserena

Paris.

City of Light.

City of Love.

Dick Winters just wished the soldier behind him would stop bumping his chair as he laughed at another dirty joke.

It had not been his idea to be here. Apparently Sink thought he needed a break. Nixon and Welsh ganged up on him, practically forcing him to pack his bag and get on the train.

Now that he was here though….it was nice.

He would never admit how many steaming, hot baths he had taken since finding his hotel room. Plus, sleeping in a real, soft bed- his bones sang with joy at the reprieve from the hard, army cot it had been subjected to for years now.

Tomorrow morning he was supposed to be leaving. His last 24 hours in Paris. Truthfully, he had done nothing, just rest. Both physically and mentally. He knew if he returned without having visited some kind of touristy place, both Nixon and Welsh would be furious. Though, he would have to have a conversation with Nix. It was not until Dick started unpacking that he found the box of condoms Nix must have slipped into his bag when he was not looking.

Sometimes he wondered why he put up with the man. Even that thought made him smile. Somehow him and Nix, they just clicked. Completely polar opposites but maybe that was what allowed their friendship to take root and grow.

The soldier behind Dick laughed loudly, rocking his chair back with the movement and knocking into Dick once again. He grimaced, just saving himself from spilling coffee onto his Class A uniform. He knew he outrank the man behind him and all his friends, he could easily say something…. but that seemed like a battle not worth fighting.

He quickly finished his small cup of coffee, relishing the actual bitter taste of the drink verse the watery stuff the army supplied. Standing up, he pulled out the change from his pocket, ready to leave a tip for the nice waitress.

"There you are!" A feminine voice called out with a distinctly British accent.

Dick lifted his head, knowing she was not talking to him but still curious. But then the strangest thing happened. He looked up and met her eyes as she walked past the few other tables. A blinding smile lit up her face and he felt his heartbeat stutter at how beautiful it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others sitting around watching her with interest but her eyes remained solely focused on him.

When she came to his side, she gently placed a hand on his forearm and lifted up slightly on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'm so sorry I am late, love. I lost track of time. Do we still have time for a cup or shall we go?" She easily asked, as she slid down into the extra chair at the table.

He stood frozen for a moment, his mind questioning everything that just happened. Thankfully, his body went on autopilot and he sat back down in his chair. "Uh…. it’s fine."

"Lovely!" She beamed, waving a hand to get the attention of the waitress.

As he stared at her, his mind finally seemed to feel the tension hidden just below the surface of her overly-sunny disposition. Her hands laid in her lap, a white-knuckle grip on her small purse though. A friendly smile remained on her face but her eyes kept shifting warily over to the other side of the street, like prey keeping a predator in its peripheral.

Confused and now concerned, he peered over to where her eyes kept shooting. Two men stood across the street watching her with sullen expressions. Their uniforms informed him they were US army, the chevrons on their sleeves stated they were both sergeants.

Dick turned back to her and lowered his voice, even though he guessed over the noise of those around him, the men would not hear. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

"Wait." She said sharply, even though her smile never faltered. Then the waitress approached and the woman ordered a cup of tea with enthusiasm. Dick found himself ordering another cup of coffee per her insistence.

Finally, the waitress walked away, having had a brief conversation about the lovely color of lipstick she wore with the woman across from him after taking their orders.

It was then the woman peeked across the street once more. Whatever she saw, Dick watched the tension ease out of her. He glanced over to see the two men making their way back down the street.

"Bloody hell." She muttered, dropping her face in her hands.

"Are you alright? Were those men bothering you?"

"Mmm? Oh, no, well yes. They kept following me even after I told them I was meeting my fiancé. I am so terribly sorry I dragged you into this, it was either find someone to pretend to be my fiancé or find an alley nearby and stab them. I quite like this dress and would prefer not to get blood on it today."

He just stared at her, unsure how to take her answer. He would have thought it was a joke but with the way she casually answered, as if stating the sky was blue, he assumed she was serious. "Um, right." He coughed, not quite sure where to take the conversation from there. Luckily, she seemed to notice.

"Is there somewhere you need to go? I truly am sorry for holding you up. I'll pay for your coffee when the waitress returns, it's the least I can do. Don't feel like you have to stay here just for me."

"No, no. It's alright, ma'am. I was just…." His voice trailed off.

She smiled softly at him, folding her hands in her lap. "Are you stationed here in Paris?"

At that moment, the waitress returned with their ordered drinks.

"No." He answered her prior question, watching her take a sip from her cup. His own cup sat between his hands but he felt no need to drink it yet. "My CO demanded I take a 72-hour pass."

"Mmm….so you are one of those?" She laughed lightly at the look of confusion on his expressive face. "A CO who actually cares about his men, focuses on making sure they are taken care of, instead of spending time with the other officers wasting all his money on booze and women."

"Um…." He could feel a warmth spreading over his face. Hoping to hide it, he brought his cup to his lips and took a sip.

"It's alright, sir. We need more officers like you in this damn war. What's your name?"

That he could easily answer. "Lieutenant Dick Winters, Easy Company, 506th, Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

"Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Winters. I'm y/n y/l/n. So Airbourne, hmmm? I've heard about you. Tell me about your training."

And somehow Dick found himself telling her about Currahee, about the jumps at Mackall, the field drills in Upottery, even laughing about Sobel's antics with her.

Eventually, their cups ran dry.

"Where are you off to now?" She asked pleasantly.

Dick answered honestly, feeling relaxed in her presence. "I'm not sure."

"Well, it so happens I was on my way to visit the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure."

Dick insisted on paying for both of their drinks, claiming his mother would read him the riot act if he allowed a woman to pay for her own. As they walked away from the cafe, she slipped her arm through his like they had done it a million times. Instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable at the unexpected physical touch, he found himself smiling down at her.

What started off as a day without any intended plan, just enjoying not being on the front line or behind a desk writing reports, became one of the most enjoyable days of his life. After the Cathedral, they wandered along the Seine, stopping at any shop or attraction that caught their eye. She regaled him with different facts or histories of places they saw and other locations in Paris. Before the war, she had spent some time in Paris and now, having returned as a translator, she felt it was even more important to remember those things that the Nazis tried so hard to destroy.

Soon conversations turned to their own experiences at home, his in Pennsylvania and hers in London. The more they talked, the more he found himself attracted to her beyond the physical. She was a breath of fresh air amongst the smog of war. A ray of sunshine to remind him that above the dark clouds of War, the sun still resided. But even if the day was spent in laughter and companionship, a war still brewed outside. A painful reminder to what Dick's priorities should be. So, he promised himself that he would enjoy her company now, but once he left Paris, he would put her out of his mind. His men and the war came first.

As night settled over the city, they walked side by side back to her hotel. It was not too far from his own, thus he refused to listen to her protests and told her he would escort her back for her own safety.

"Well, this is me." She stopped in front of the lovely hotel. "Thank you for escorting me."

"It's the least I can do. You spent the whole day being my tour guide."

"That sounds dreadfully boring. But you'll have stories to share with that Nixon friend of yours. Though he may be more impressed if you bring him back a vintage bottle of wine."

"No, he only drinks Vat 69. Lord knows where the man keeps finding the stuff."

"Besides your footlocker?"

"Yeah, besides that." He chuckled at her jest and the mischievous smile on her face. As they stood there, smiling at one another, he found himself wishing they had more time. That perhaps he had met her before or after the war and had been able to court her properly. For now though, he would cherish their time together. "Thank you for today."

Her smile held a hint of sadness in it, as if she lamented their separation just as much as he did. "I pray our paths will cross again."

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Dick."

He stepped back, lingering a moment longer to gaze at her. After, he turned and started to walk away. The hour was late and they both needed to sleep. It was less than 8 hours until his train was to depart in the morning and he knew it would be wise to enjoy his soft bed one more time before returning to a hard, army cot.

"Dick!"

He spun around, surprised to see her walking towards him, her heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk.

"Is everything alright?"

Without acknowledging his question, she pressed her lips to his in an eager kiss. Dick liked to consider himself a gentleman, never to take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. In this moment though, as all thoughts fled under her touch, his body reacted on instinct. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him while their lips parted, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, tasting like the wine she sipped on at dinner, her hands tightly gripping the lapels of his uniform. Heat coursed through his body as their tongues tangled together. He felt hypnotized, unable to pull away, to maintain propriety. Nor did he want too. She nipped at his bottom lip and his knees almost buckled underneath him. This moment was pleasure and fire, something he never experienced before….and something he wanted to revisit over and over with her.

After only a second and eternity combined, they both pulled back with swollen lips and breathless. Rising on her toes, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, a single flame compared to the bonfire they just lavished themselves in. Swiftly, she stepped back, running her hands over her dress.

"Goodnight…. don’t tell Nixon about this."

He nodded, almost shyly, mind still reeling from their shared passion. "Yes, ma'am."

With a playful, flirty wink, she twirled around and headed back towards her hotel, her heels clicking loudly on the ground.

Dick watched her walk away, lips still tingling and residual flames teasing his nerves. His eyes traced over her form, hoping to memorize it, to be able to always savor this moment. Looking up to the heavens, he silently prayed that one day, their paths would cross, one day he could perhaps pursue her, one day he could feel her lips against his again.

*****

"So, you still haven't said much about your time in Paris." Nixon prodded, sipping from his canteen that certainly was not water. The intelligence officer had been relentlessly interrogating his friend about his pass for the past week.

Dick rolled his eyes, not even glancing over. "Not much to say, Nix."

"You had to have done something! Come on! It's Paris!"

"I saw the Notre-Dame."

"Hey, that's something. Stop pressing him, Nix." Welsh butted in with his typical lazy grin. He reclined in the extra chair next to Nixon. "He did return the condoms."

"For Pete's sake." Dick muttered as he listened to the two men laugh. He stood looking out the window of his office, overlooking Easy Company below being drilled by Lieutenant Dike. Again. There was something to be said about being prepared but this went beyond that.

"Harry, how long have they been out there now?" He asked, not removing his gaze from his men.

Welsh sighed, glancing at the clock. "About two hours now."

"Right, come on. Let's go relieve them."

The other two scrambled to their feet, following Dick out of his office and down through the labyrinth of the HQ building. Lieutenant Dike had come with high expectations but the more Dick watched the man, the more worried he became.

"You're too soft on them." Nixon teased, trailing behind him.

Dick gave a quick salute to some officers they passed, never missing a step as he responded. "They aren't learning anything by marching back and forth out there besides ways to murder their CO."

"Was that a joke? Holy fuck. Did you hear that, Harry? Dick made a joke! Paris changed you."

"I heard. Still in shock." Welsh deadpanned.

Dick sighed good-naturedly as they stepped outside the building. Slipping his cap on, he started in the direction of his newest Lieutenant. The footsteps of his companions falling in step behind him.

"Dick!"

His feet screeched to a halt. He knew that voice. Whipping around, he was greeted by the sight of her. Someone he thought he would never truly see again. A beautiful, blinding smile on her face as she hurried towards him. His heart rapidly pounded within his chest, giving away his shock and joy at seeing her.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He could not help sweeping his eyes over her, surprised to see her in a WAC uniform. Though it did nothing to diminish her beauty.

"I was asked to be a translator and help with deciphering coded messages." She answered casually as if she had not just revolutionized his world. Standing in front of him, she motioned to the army camp around them. "Is this where you are stationed?"

"Yeah, yeah, it is."

"Oh, that's lovely. We'll be able to see each other again. I am late for a meeting otherwise I'd love to chat. Could I see you tomorrow for a cuppa?"

"Um, sure. Yes."

"Perfect. I'll find you in the afternoon." She raised up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips, causing his mind to short-circuit. "It's good seeing you, Dick."

With that she spun on her heel and sashayed away, leaving all three men standing there shocked.

"Who was that?" Nixon demanded, gaze never leaving her retreating form.

"Y/n…. I met her in Paris."

Nixon smacked him on the arm. "You bastard, you said nothing happened there."

"Nothing happened." Dick tried to defend, even if the excuse sounded weak in his own ears. Besides, for him, something certainly did happen.

"Probably should have kept those condoms, Dick." Welsh said, clapping him on the shoulder with a chuckle.

And for a brief moment, Dick wondered if he was right.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagines #richard winters #dick winters #richard winters x reader #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon #harry welsh #mzwrites

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sunnysidevans · 4 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

Summary: Ransom has time to reflect on his relationship with you and all the things he put you and your relationship through.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: fluff ngl, curse words, legal words, mostly fluff not gonna lie, mean mothers? , oh and of course angst

AuthorsNote: Hiii! I hope everyone enjoys this! i wasn’t planning to write a second part to this fic but this idea has sat in my brain for a bit not gonna lie, so I hope you enjoy! also disclaimer , I know nothing about law, I could have gotten all of this wrong and for that I”m sorry I did my best :)

PART ONE

READERS POINT OF VIEW

ONE YEAR AGO

Fall was always a hard season to deal with, no matter what when september rolled around you always struggled with fall. Thinking about ransom was hard, you held him tightly in your heart as even the asshole he was you still held him close, he was the love of your life. You hated fall and the smell of pine, smelling a pine candle in the store made you tear up and leave the groceries in the aisle you were in. Fall was beautiful in Massachusetts, the color changing leaves along with the sweater wearing weather really did you in, really the only thing keeping you in Massachusetts anyways. You sat under the blanket in the living room holding a nice hot cup of coffee,watching the news, you couldn’t bear to watch much as they continued to throw ransom’s name and family through the dirt, were they perfect? Of course not. The alarm you set on your phone had pinged for you as it led you to sighing and getting out from your cozy sherpa blanket and to go up and start getting dressed, leaving the hot cup of coffee behind.

After getting dressed you managed to throw yourself together, popping in your contacts and putting on minimal makeup as you know you would be just crying it off anyways. As you dumped your coffee out in the sink you thought of the past with Ransom, he may not have been a perfect boyfriend but you certainly did not expect to be with him for almost two years. You managed to get yourself around, purse and coat before sighing heavily, grabbing your keys and leaving the front door. You hated that even after everything he did you were still haunted by the drysdale family. Pulling into the courthouse you managed to snag a semi decent parking space and making your way through the cameras and the family as they watched with dirty looks at the top of the stairs of the court house. Making your way in the courthouse you snuck between everyone to make it to the front of the courtroom, no one was there yet, the main someone being Ransom, you weren’t quite ready to face him. You walked through the gate and set your briefcase down along with the rest of your belongings, as you did so, the judge walked in and ransom in his orange jumpsuit followed suit.

You tried to avoid eye contact as you unpacked all of your paperwork, you couldn’t even keep a straight face as you bit back the tears, this was not what you wanted. “Okay, shall we begin?” the judge asked,sitting down as the recorder stood “The start of the case of The state of Massachusetts versus Hugh Ransom Drysdale”. You held your head high as the judge motioned for you to begin,you sighed nodding turning to the jury “this was no, innocent act ladies and gentleman” you began approaching the jury box “Hugh Drysdale had every intention of making sure this looked like an accident on a poor innocent nurse” you folded your hands together “Hugh knew his grandfather was cutting him from the Will, he knew that the whole inheritance was going to the one friend his grandfather had, his nurse.” you let out a sigh as you avoided all eye contact with ransom and his lawyers. “Hugh Drysdale planned on killing his grandfather, he didn’t plan the second murder to follow, the house keeper, who just was in the wrong place at the wrong time” you nodded out to the court. “Hugh wanted all of this to fall on the innocent nurse, all for one thing, family greed”.

Court lasted hours, The trial had started sooner than it ended. The proceeding lasted for about two hours before a recess was called. You stood outside the courthouse holding a cup of cocoa between your hands “I hope you're proud of yourself” someone spit behind you as you turned there stood ransom’s mom, Linda. “Mrs.Drysdale..” you started as she cut you off “It’s Thrombey” she turned,crossing her arms over her chest watching you “oh- I’m very sorry to hear that” you looked at her nodding “and no i’m not proud of myself, I would much rather be on any other case but this is the one they gave me,I would much rather be at home than prosecuting my ex boyfriend” you spit watching her face closely “well” she rolled her eyes adjusting her coat “I don’t want my son to go to jail” she sighed “it’s disgusting in that place” she mumbled crossing her arms again “richard isn’t even coming because he thinks I’m crazy for helping him” she sighed shaking her head “my son going to jail is completely your fault” she seethed,turning and walking back into the court house.

The judge called court again after about three hours, “Judge Marks Residing” the recorder stated as everyone stood, you stood adjusting your skirt watching as the judge came in and sat down. “This case is a strange one for my courtroom, and took a long time to decide this ruling” she nodded “can our head juror please stand” she motioned to the jury box as a gentleman stood holding a piece of paper. “Okay” she nodded again “and what is the ruling with the jury?” she asked as he spoke up “the vote was fifty fifty your honor, split down the middle undecided” he spoke holding the paper “but we had our tie breaker” he nodded quickly to her “okay and what is the jury’s ruling?” the judge asked sitting up “in the case of The state of Massachusetts versus Hugh Ransom Drysdale, we rule guilty”.

PRESENT DAY

Standing in the parking lot staring at the Massachusetts Correctional doors you thought about turning back, turning around and running out to your car, you couldn’t believe you had agreed to this. You walked inside with a heavy sigh and approached the check in desk, “can I help you?” the guard at the desk asked, “I’m here to see an intimate” you adjusted your coat “okay and what inmate are you here to see?” he asked typing things into the computer “oh uh, Hugh Drysdale”. You walked through the building to the visiting area to wait for ransom, the guard showed you to a seat as you sat down,crossing your legs over the other as you looked around the room, it was gray, and very bleak, holding no color in the gray walls. The doors beeped down the hall as you sat up and soon coming around the corner was none other than the love of your life, in the god forsaken orange jumpsuit.

Ransom sat down as you sat up to meet him,elbows resting on the table as you looked at one another he sighed “you actually came”. You nodded looking at your hands, picking at the hangnail starting to form around your thumbs, soon being covered with ransom’s hand, surprisingly just as soft and comforting as you remembered “I did” you whispered,looking up to meet his baby blues. “I’m really glad you came” he whispered,taking your hand into his fully,giving it a squeeze “why am I here ransom?” you asked looking at him,squeezing his hand back in comfort as he smiled “I.. haven't seen anyone in a while, my mom she stopped visiting after the first visit, I didn’t even think you’d read my letter let alone come see me” he whispered watching as you chewed on your lip,nodding. “I’m very sorry you haven’t had a visitor ransom” you whispered looking over his face smiling softly at him “no matter the crime you committed, that's not fair to you, I just was surprised to hear from you” you nodded as he chuckled “you are?” he asked you in a bit of shock, You nodded in response chuckling “ransom I’m kinda the reason you're in here, I did kinda represent the state in your case” you looking at him as he quickly shook his head “you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t have too, I know that” he started biting his lip.

Talking to ransom took hours, you were surprised the guards had left you alone for so long but finally after two hours it all came to an ending. “Okay Drysdale, lets go” the guard sighed walking to the table, helping ransom up, “wait” ransom protested standing and walking over to you,kissing the top of your head with a whisper “Thank you for coming to visit me (Y/N), I can’t thank you enough for this” he whispered again turning for them to cuff him again. Watching the love of your life walk away was hard, before he got far you got up quickly walking to meet him “ransom!” you yelled, as he turned to face you “You can keep.. Writing to me if it helps” you smiled as he smiled back with a nod “that would be nice, and maybe you can keep coming to see me?” he asked hopeful “eh maybe” you grinned sending him a wink as he walked past the steel doors.

Walking out of Massachusetts Correctional you thought many things, how good Ransom looked after not seeing him for almost two years, along with the way his demeanor was so much different than the last time you saw him. You climbed in your car and drove down the road with the radio playing softly, you couldn’t help but feel horrible for the things Ransom was experiencing, the loneliness he felt that his mother wasn’t coming to visit. You hummed along with the radio as you drove, and as you drove you realized, yeah you did deserve better than that cable knit wearing asshole but maybe, just maybe you saw a change, you felt the change, and yeah you did deserve better but maybe that better was just, a better him.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #chris evans angst #ransom thrombrey #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale angst #knives out #hugh ransom

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conradscrime · 3 years

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The Watcher

March 28, 2021

In June 2014 Derek Broaddus and his wife Maria closed in on their dream home located at 657 Boulevard in Westfield, New Jersey. The house was beautiful and included 6 bedrooms, which was perfect because the Broaddus family had three children. It was spacious and the perfect family home. Maria had been raised in Westfield and this new home was only a few blocks away from her childhood home. Derek had grown up in Maine and worked for an insurance company and had worked his way to becoming senior vice-president.

The Broaddus’ wanted some renovations done and a few days after closing in on the house Derek went to do some painting of his own. While he was there he happened to check the mail and found an envelope with the words to “The New Owner” scrawled in chunky letters.

The letter read,

“Dearest new neighbour at 657 Boulevard, allow me to welcome you to the neighbourhood. 657 Boulevard has been the subject of my family for decades now and as it approaches its 110th birthday, I have been put in charge of watching and waiting for its second coming. My grandfather watched the house in the 1920s and my father watched in the 1960s. It is now my time. Do you know the history of the house? Do you know what lies within the walls of 657 Boulevard? Why are you here? I will find out.“

Whoever had written the letter seemed to already know a decent amount of information about the Broaddus family including their children, knowing how many they had, though the writer had not yet identified their names.

A letter from the writer about the children is as follows,

“Do you need to fill the house with the young blood I requested? Better for me. Was your old house too small for the growing family? Or was it greed to bring me your children? Once I know their names I will call to them and draw them too [sic] me.“

The Broaddus family had no idea who could be sending the letters, the writer only signed them as being written by “The Watcher.”

Derek was obviously freaked out at the amount of information this unknown person already knew about the family. Also the way the letters are written is very strange and very sinister, it doesn’t really seem like a joke. Derek called the police who were just as confused as him over the contents of the letters and asked if Derek had any known enemies.

The Broaddus family could not think of anyone that would be sending these kinds of letters to them. They contacted the couple that had sold them the house, John and Andrea Woods and asked them if they had ever received any letters during the time they lived at 657 Boulevard. Andrea Woods claimed that a few days before they moved out of the house they had in fact received a sketchy letter in the mail from someone referring to themselves as The Watcher. However, that was the only letter John and Andrea had ever received from The Watcher and they had lived in the house for 23 years. They did think the letter was odd but didn’t think much of it and threw it out.

The police felt that whoever this Watcher person was must be a neighbour living near the house. They advised the Broaddus family to not mention these letters to anyone while they investigated potential neighbourhood suspects.

In the coming weeks the Broaddus family was starting to unpack things into the house and it seemed as though the Watcher was present for all of this. Maria had received another letter this time addressing both her and Derek as “Mr. and Mrs. Braddus.” Though the Watcher spelled their last name wrong they were obviously close enough in earshot to hear. The Watcher also named the three children in birth order and knew of their nicknames.

The letters started getting even creepier. One letter in particular mentioned the sleeping arrangements and what bedrooms the children would have.

“Will they sleep in the attic? Or will you all sleep on the second floor? Who has the bedrooms facing the street? I’ll know as soon as you move in. It will help me to know who is in which bedroom. Then I can plan better.“

A suspicious thing happened when one day Derek was showing the renovations they made to another couple living on the block. During the tour the wife said, “It’ll be nice to have some young blood in the neighbourhood.” Young blood is something that only the Watcher had said in their letters about the Broaddus children.

Closer and closer to move in day and the Watcher was definitely around.

“I pass by many times a day. 657 Boulevard is my job, my life, my obsession. And now you are too Braddus family. Welcome to the product of your greed! Greed is what brought the past three families to 657 Boulevard and now it has brought you to me.Have a happy moving in day. You know I will be watching.“

The Broaddus’ seemed too afraid to move into their new dream home due to the letters and they were scared for their children’s safety. One potential suspect, a man named Michael Langford who lived in a house nearby and did not work. He lived with his mother, Peggy Langford who was up in her 90′s. Several of Peggy’s adult children lived with her, most of them in their 60′s which seemed odd to Derek.

The Langford’s had lived there since the 1960′s which the first letter from the Watcher confirmed that’s when their father had started watching 657 Boulevard. Richard Langford died 12 years earlier and it would make sense that Michael took over for him, considering the Watcher’s letter said they had been watching for ‘the better part of two decades.’

Michael was questioned but there was never enough evidence to charge him with anything. The police were pretty much tied with no evidence which led Derek and Maria to become quite frustrated. They didn’t feel safe in their new home, their dream home that they just wanted to enjoy. Derek and Maria tried to investigate themselves, finding out that the only family that had lived in the neighbourhood since the 1960′s was the Langfords. They even hired their own private investigator but no new information was found.

There were a few other sketchy occurrences. For example, one of the housepainters noticed that the couple who lived behind the Broaddus family had two lawn chairs that seemed to be really close to the Broaddus house. One day the painter looked out the window and noticed the man sitting in one of the chairs, facing the Broaddus’ house.

The Broaddus family did not feel comfortable moving into 657 Boulevard and they had already sold their house so they moved in with Maria’s parents for the time being. They still paid the mortgage and property taxes on 657 Boulevard, but refused to live there and put their children in harms way.

Six months after buying 657 Boulevard, the Broaddus family put it up on the market. They originally priced it higher than they had paid for because they made a lot of renovations, but no one wanted to buy it because of gossip about the Watcher.

Derek and Maria filed a legal complaint against the Woods’ on June 2, 2015 about a year after they first bought the house. They felt that the Woods’ should have let them know that they had received a letter from the Watcher before selling them the house. The Woods’ claim that they did not disclose the information about the letter because they didn’t find it threatening, they had never felt ‘watched’ in 23 years, in fact they rarely ever locked their doors while living there.

The Watcher sent the Broaddus family 3 letters in total, all about details about the house and their life. It was reported that a neighbour living at 633 Boulevard had also received a letter from the Watcher around the same time the Broaddus family did, though not a whole lot of information has come out about that.

In July 2019 the Broaddus family finally sold 657 Boulevard for $959,000, about $400,000 cheaper than they paid for it. Some people believe that the Broaddus family themselves were writing the letters to themselves as some scheme, to get a movie deal or maybe realized they couldn’t afford to have the house and wanted to get out of the deal, though to me it seems strange that they would do that because they lost their dream home and they lost a lot of money in the process of selling the house.

No one has ever been charged for being The Watcher and this case remains unsolved.

#unsolved #unsolved true crime #true crime #truecrime #the watcher #newjersey

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caitybug · 4 years

Note

(Also sorry you are working on sads and feel blegh) maybe Rain is too "mundain" as far as prompts. 5? 7? 8? Any of those sound fun? 😂

5. Typed kisses.

7. Kisses after decades apart.

8. Kisses after dark.

Birdy, bc I love you, I’m going to try to do all of these haha.

(Shoutout to @adamarks for looking this over to make sure I wasn’t going insane.)

(1:35): Good morning!

(1:35): Snow, it’s 1 in the morning.

(1:36): Why are you messaging me?

(1:36): It’s 7:30 here.

(1:36): It’s still morning, though. So my original text stands.

(1:37): Good morning, Snow.

(1:37):😘 😘

(1:38): XO.

Day 2:

(10:03): Let me know how your appointment goes.

(10:03): XO.

(10:04): My what?

(10:04): Your check-up.

(11:05): You forgot about it, didn’t you?

(11:10): I’m here, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Baz.

(11:12): You’re an idiot, Snow.

(11:12): 😘 😘 love you.

(11:13): I love you too, XO.

Day 3:

(15:03): Do you think the milk is still good?

(15:04): When did it go bad?

(15:05): It says it went bad a few days ago.

(15:06): But the date says best by…

(15:06): So it just means it isn’t at its BEST right?

(15:07): How does it smell?

(15:07): Not good.

(15:08): Then don’t drink it.

(15:09): What if I just don’t know how milk is supposed to smell? How often do I really smell milk?

(15:10): Snow, just get more milk. I think we can spare the money it costs.

(15:10): But I’ve already started cooking.

(15:12): I’m just going to try anyway.

(15:12): It’ll be cooked anyway, right?

(15:13): I want it known I believe this to be a bad idea.

(15:14): You also said that subscribing to three different butter services was “unnecessary and excessive”

(15:15): I stand by that, Snow.

(15:15): How can one person eat that much butter each month?

(15:16): I can’t believe you would doubt my abilities like this.

(15:16): I thought we were in a loving and supportive relationship.

(15:17): I love you and support your health.

(15:17): Which means cutting back on butter sometimes, darling.

(15:20): I’m going to use the milk.

(15:22): I wish you the best.

(15:22): 😘 😘

(15:23): XO.

Day 5:

(7:40): How is your stomach?

(7:45): Better.

(7:45): I told you to buy new milk.

(7:47): I think there is a stomach bug going around.

(7:47): Probably that.

(7:49): Sure, Snow.

(7:49): That’s why you spent yesterday regurgitating the entire contents of your stomach.

(7:50): Yes, it is.

(7:52): Have a good day.

(7:52): I miss you.

(7:52): 😘 😘

(7:55): I miss you too.

(7:55): XO.

Day 8:

(20:46): The people above us are pounding it out again.

(20:47): Earplugs are in my bedside drawer.

(20:47): If you were here I’d just try to compete.

(20:48): You certainly would not.

(20:50): I bet we could beat them.

(20:52): Come on, Baz, I know you’ve got a competitive streak. Don’t let Richard and Shelly show us up.

(20:53): You’ve got two hands, Snow. I’m sure you could manage something.

(20:54): Oh? Good idea.

(20:54): Talk later.

(20:55): 😘 😘

(20:57): I regret so much about this conversation.

(20:57): XO.

Day 13:

(14:05): YOU COME BACK TOMORROW!

(14:07): Please stop yelling at me.

(14:07): But yes, I do.

(14:08): 😊 😊 😊

(14:09): I love you.

(14:14): I love you too.

(14:15): Can we facetime?

(14:15): In a couple of hours, Snow.

(14:15): I’ve got one more meeting.

(14:16): 😔

(14:16): Alright.

(14:17): XO.

(14:18): 😘 😘

Day 14

I get through security. It’s always a painful even, especially in America. Have to practically strip just to stand in a machine that tells everyone what I’ve already known.

No gun here the machine says with a green light and a beep.

As if I’d need one.

It’s been delayed several hours for a reason I’ve yet to figure out. The weather looks clear, planes are moving in and out. People on other flights are still departing on time.

The only reasonable explanation I’ve come up with is the airline is incompetent.

“Snow,” I say, putting a finger in my right ear, trying to ignore the man screaming at the poor help desk person. “I may not be back until tomorrow.”

I look at the clock. Even if we left now I wouldn’t get home until midnight.

“What? Why?” He asks. His voice sounds frantic.

I hate worrying him.

“This airline work flew me through is set upon ruining my life,” I growl under my breath.

The service representatives have been berated enough, they don’t need me coming after them as well. (Even if I want to.)

(Crowley do I want to.)

“Right now it doesn’t have us leaving for another two hours, so at earliest I won’t be home until 3 in the morning. With the trend of how this has been going, I won’t be surprised if it gets canceled altogether.”

He huffs.

“I miss you.”

It comes out as a whisper, any quieter, and I would have missed it.

It’s not that he’s ashamed of saying it. We’ve said it a lot over the past two weeks.

He’s sad. I am too. I was supposed to be home by dinner. We were going to order takeaway and watch a movie, kiss and makeup for lost time.

Ignore all responsibilities of the world around us for the evening.

“I miss you too.” I face the large windows, looking at planes that aren’t mine leaving the runway.

The blasted airport is under construction too. Everyone said to fly in and out of La Guardia because it is easier, but I’m wondering if I should have taken JFK.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“You better. Preferably before I drink more spoiled milk.”

“Stay away from all dairy products until I return,” I chuckle into the phone.

An announcement comes over the intercom.

“They’re announcing another delay, I’m sure,” I groan. “I’ll send you a text.”

“I love you,” he says from the other side.

“I love you too,” I respond, ending the call and slipping it into my pocket.

(14:36): I hope you get home soon.

(14:36): Threaten to suck their blood, or something.

(14:36): I’m sure that would work.

(14:36): 😘 😘.

(14:37): You’re an idiot, Snow.

(14:37): XO.

Day 15, 4:16

I turn my key in the door, trying to quietly walk into the flat. My suitcase softly rolls against the wood behind me as I pull it in, letting it sit next to the door.

Unpacking can happen after I get at least fourteen hours of sleep.

I place a brown paper sack of scones on the kitchen table.

I couldn’t resist. The shop next to us had just opened, and I knew it would make him smile.

I continue down the hallway, stopping only to take a piss.

In our room, still blanketed in darkness apart from the street lights coming from the road beside us, Simon softly snores.

He still sleeps on his side of the bed while I’m away. It makes my heart feel softer than I’d like to admit.

One hand rests next to his head, his wings spread out across the bed.

I change clothes, relieving myself of all the feelings of travel before softly lifting a wing to get under the blanket and allow him to cover me again.

I don’t have long to process the fact that I’m with him again before I feel something wrap around my calf.

I pause for a moment before I remember.

The tail.

He is, for all I can tell, still asleep. Meaning it’s recognized I’m here and is saying hello in its own way.

I rub it softly with my other foot.

It dislikes not getting attention, you see.

Simon’s mouth is open as he breathes deeply. I think his pillow is a little wet.

I’d call it disgusting (it is, truly), but I missed him so much that I can’t help but smile.

I risk moving closer and kiss his cheek softly, trying not to wake him up.

I know he hasn’t slept well without me.

(I haven’t either, without him.)

Side effect of sleeping for so many years in that tower. We both got dreadfully used to hearing the other breathe, the way we each navigated and slept.

At this point, I think even his snoring lulls me to sleep.

(I still complain about it, however.)

An arm wraps behind my back and pulls me close.

He takes a deep breath, and when I pull back I see one eye open.

“Hey there,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Your breath smells.” I lean in, kissing his forehead.

“Well your hair is greasy,” he replies, pulling me into a kiss, his hand moving to my hair.

“You don’t seem to mind it.”

He hums in response.

I pull him tighter. I need to feel this. Everything.

His lips.

His hands.

His chest against mine.

“And you don’t seem to mind the morning breath,” he states, smiling at me as we break for a moment.

I open my mouth to retort but he puts a finger to my lips, shushing me.

“No talking, only kissing,” he whispers. “I’ve not kissed my fiancé in decades.”

He leans in but I pull back for a moment.

“It’s been two weeks, Snow.”

“Decades,” he states matter of factly. “Each day was like five years passed. It’s been 70 years. I’ve gone grey and wrinkly, waiting for you to return.”

I laugh, being shut up briefly by another round of kisses.

I should sleep.

But this is so much better than sleeping.

I feel something wet hit my cheek.

Backing up, worried there is a leak from the ceiling, I realize why.

It’s Simon.

“Love,” I say.

What’s wrong?

“It’s fine; it’s fine,” he says, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “I’m just tired, and I missed you.”

Another tear drops from one of his eyes, and I brush it away with my thumb.

I open my mouth to say a response, to comfort, but I feel a stinging in my own eyes.

(My eyes have been open for too long, you see. Couldn’t sleep on the plane. I’ve been up far too long to be able to control any tears that fall.)

I lean in to kiss him again.

We kiss, and kiss, and keep kissing. Hands roam, trying to remind our brains of what it feels like to have each other again.

It was dark when we started, but soon an orange haze comes over the room as the sun rises.

The tears start, stop, start again.

Laughter rings out a few times.

“You did WHAT to our oven??” I shout at one point.

He lays now with his head on my chest. My eyes are closed, fingers scratching his head lightly.

His hand is softly rubbing my stomach.

“Wait,” Simon says, jumping up and looking at me.

I blink a few times, trying to fight off the sleep that was about to overcome me.

“Did you get?” He asks, question incomplete.

I search his eyes for a moment, frowning, trying to comprehend before I realize what he is saying.

“Yes, they are on the table,” I laugh softly.

He jumps up and starts to go to the door.

He pauses, looking back at me, clearly wracking his brain with a question.

“We can eat them in bed,” I say, knowing where his mind is trying to go.

He smiles and continues his run to the kitchen.

I look out the window and see the sun hit the windows of nearby buildings.

It’s good to be home.

#snowverylost #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #Caity does fanfiction #I hope you like this!#Me #Trying To Do A Text Fic #lol #<3 you birdy

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bluesfortheredj · 4 years

Text

A bumpy ride.

A theme park wasn’t your ideal get away but for Ben it was a dream come true, so naturally you’d agreed to the weekend away at Alton Towers, even though you’d warned him from the beginning that you’d be the one holding his belongings while he went on the roller coasters. This seemed to suit him fine and on the drive up there he was busy planning what order he would go on the rides over the two days you were staying there while you chuckled at the wheel every time he changed his mind and started a new list.

“Right, I think I’m done!” he grins from beside you as you near the pub you were to stay at.

“Just in time!”

You park up and get out of the car then Ben collects your bags from the boot while you head inside to pick up the key for room which was in a converted barn next to the main building.

“It’s number 2,” you say when you emerge again, nodding towards the conversion.

You take a bag from Ben and hand him the key then follow him over to the door as you stroll slowly behind him to look at the sprawling fields around you.

“Come on!” he encourages, “it’s freezing!”

“Look at the view though, it’s beautiful!”

“We’re not here for the view, we’re here for a weekend of sex and roller coasters,” he tuts.

“And I’m only participating in one of those activities...”

“Boo!” he pouts.

“You know I don’t do heights!”

“What about if I found like a baby roller coaster? Would you go on that?”

“One that doesn’t go more than 6ft off the ground? Ha, you can try...”

“I’m going to get you on one of them by the end of the weekend, I promise you.”

“Good luck with that,” you laugh.

You let out a huff as you lift your holdall and drop it down with a bounce on the bed before you begin to unpack and as you put your clothes in the wardrobe you can feel Ben’s eyes on the back of your head as he ponders over which ride to try and get you on.

“It’s no use,” you say as you turn to face him, “I’m not going on any of the rides!”

All he does is smirk at you in response, knowing that his determination will pay off in the end.

The next day at the park he doesn’t fail to ask if you want to join him on every single roller coaster he’s headed for and your answer is always a firm no as you take his phone back and slip it into your bag for safe keeping. Even as you stand at a safe distance from it all you can’t help but cringe every time he whizzes past you then turns upside down, and it’s almost as if you’re on it as well as your stomach drops when he plummets from the top and disappears under ground.

“Bloody hell,” you sigh to yourself as you press your hand to your forehead and walk off to find a seat to rest on.

“Did you see it?!” Ben asks excitedly when he eventually finds you, “oh my god that was such a thrill!”

“I did,” you laugh, “looked awful from where I was standing!”

He rolls his eyes at your reply but you ignore his unamused expression and wait for him to check his list to see where you were headed next, then he grabs your arm and links it through his before he marches you to the next ride with a grin.

“This one’s a little different…” he trails off, and you know exactly where he’s going with his questionable tone, “it’s very much a baby roller coaster; perfect for people who are a little bit afraid of anything too high.”

“Nope. No, no, and no.”

“Come on! I’ll be right next to you and it only goes around once! I swear it’s not as bad as you think it will be.”

“Ben...” you warn, “I told you from the beginning that I wasn’t going on one, and I meant it!”

“How about we sit over here and just watch it then?”

You reluctantly agree as he pulls you over to a bench then you watch carefully as the train of carriages races around the tracks, moving up and down gently on the small bumps before eventually coming to a stop after only what could have been a minute or so, and then you feel Ben’s eyes on your face as they try to gauge your reaction to it all.

“So…?”

“Will you promise to never ask me to go on a ride ever again?”

“Yes,” he nods fervently.

“Right, fine, come on then,” you sigh as your stomach bubbles with nerves.

“Yes! Yes! Quick, let’s get on it before you change your mind!”

You laugh at his enthusiasm as he drags you up from your seat and towards the short queue for the next turn and he clings on to your arm tightly to make sure you don’t run away from him at the last second until you’re both safely wedged in to your seats with the bar down over your stomachs ready for the off.

“Oh god,” you worry as you press yourself against Ben’s side, “I suddenly don’t feel so confident about this decision.”

“It’s alright,” Ben reassures, “you’re with me and it’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod as the carriage slowly pulls away and begins to gain speed to the first hump in the tracks and just as you brace yourself for the downward motion it suddenly comes to a stop right at the peak. Your fingers are wrapped tightly around the bar and you quickly snap your head around to look at Ben with terrified eyes, then he meets your wide gaze with a kind smile.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “don’t worry, we’ll be moving in no time, it’s probably nothing, just stay calm.”

“Don’t worry?!” you almost screech, “how the hell can I not worry when we’re stuck up here?!”

“Just look at me, keep your eyes on mine okay? It’ll be okay,” he soothes.

“Ben, I can’t do this, I need to get off now.”

He places his hands on your upper arms gently then pulls you into his chest and rubs his hands up and down your back to try and comfort you, but your stomach is twisting and turning so much you feel as if you’re going to be sick down his jacket.

A message comes from the operator of the ride through a megaphone, “ladies and gentleman, please don’t worry, something has fallen onto the tracks and we’ve had to stop the ride to clear it, you’ll be moving along in a couple of minutes!”

“I’m gonna be sick,” you wince, “oh god I’m going to vomit.”

Ben pulls away from you before he digs his hands into his pockets to see what he’s got and eventually pulls out a small plastic bag that he usually uses at your local corner shop, then shakes it out and holds it just below your face for you.

“Do what you’ve gotta do, don’t worry,” he nods, “I’m so sorry for getting you on here, I had no idea this was going to happen, I’m so sorry (Y/N).”

You heave into the bag, luckily nothing coming up, then look at him with a weak smile, “it’s okay, but I’m never doing this again as long as I live.”

“Totally understandable, just keep looking at me, not at anything around us.”

His eyes flick to the treeline that you’re above and you know you’re high in the air so try your best to keep your stare trained on his face, or the bag he’s holding if you feel the need to puke again. After what seems like a lifetime the carriage suddenly shudders to life again and Ben quickly sits on the handle of the bag so he can put his hands over yours as you shut your eyes tight and pray for the whole thing to be over.

“So sorry about that folks!” the operator says when you pull up, “please have another go on us!”

“No! No thank you!” you call out, “I’d like to get off thanks!”

He walks over to you and Ben and releases the metal bar then flinches out of the way as you quite literally jump off of the thing and run down the exit path until you land on a bench with a sigh. You rest your head in your hands with your elbows propped up on your knees and Ben joins you soon after, his appearance signified by a gentle hand landing on your back and his thumb moving around in small circles.

“Ben...”

“Yes love?”

“You’re on your own tomorrow.”

“That’s fair enough,” he chuckles, “do you want to go back to the pub?”

“Yes please,” you groan.

I was wondering if I could request a fic for either Ben or Richard, where the reader is affraid of heights and they get stuck in a rollercoaster together..?

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @itisjustmethistime @mamaskillerqueen @queenslandlover-93

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fluff

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fizzyxcustard · 5 years

Text

Thoughts Of You (Part 2)

Part 1

Fandom: Richard Armitage RPF

Summary: From the imagine of ‘Imagine Richard is in a loveless relationship but can’t stop thinking about you’. In the first part, Richard broke up with his girlfriend, forcing her to leave their shared apartment. Now Richard is looking forward to seeing you. Part 2 requested by @patanghill17 @legolaslovely and @deepestfirefun

Pairings: Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader, Richard Armitage x OFC

Warnings: Angst, yearning, requited love (but not acted on), swearing, text harassment, mentions of overweight!reader, insecurity

Word count: 1379

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be added to my tag lists for a particular fandom, character, or even everything, please send me an ask or a private message and I will add you. This idea actually came into my head from looking at a GIF set of Lucas North. Your background with Richard and also the woman he’s with have been left open for you to fill in your own gaps.

Music inspiration/listened to for this piece: Piano music and rain sounds (3-hour video), found here.

Masterlist of fan fiction here

As she left that night, taking only her essentials for now, and crying the whole way to the door, Richard tried not to look. She had mascara in streaks down her cheeks, paired with glistening tears. “Please, Rich,” she begged again, hesitantly reaching for the door knob.

“Just leave,” Richard said coldly, opening the door for her.

He watched her depart, the beginning of the end. No doubt she would come begging him to forgive her when she visited to pick up the remainder of her possessions. But Richard had already got a hard resolve in his gut. She would not sway him. The door was now open for him to follow his heart and seek out your light.

***

Your flight got into JFK airport the next morning. As all the passengers filed off, you yawned, bracing yourself for the immigration queue that was about to ensue. New York had always been one of your favourite destinations and whenever your work needed someone to visit, you were always the first to offer your help and volunteer to go. In actual fact, most of the time now, no one was even asked, apart from you. Your boss made sure your name was put forward.

Midtown Manhattan was to be your home for ten days, and you took the cab from JFK, like you normally did, to your hotel. It was the same place you always stayed; middle of the road, not too extravagant, but clean, with friendly staff and was somewhere you found comfortable.

When you had checked in, you made your way up to your room on the third floor, trailing your suitcase behind you. In the elevator, you shared the space with a young couple who were more interested in the taste of each other’s faces than you. You blushed and looked down, trying not to take too much notice of their public displays of affection. Instead you looked at your reflection in the mirror and looked down sadly. Slightly overweight. Nothing special.

It seemed like an age passed until there was the familiar ping!

The room was clean, the smell of polish and fresh sheets still hanging in the air.

The first thing you did, like always, was throw yourself on the bed, testing out the mattress. Ahh, Memory Foam! Always able to send you to sleep within minutes.

Your iPhone chimed loudly. You were hoping it was Richard, but instead it was an unknown number.

You’ve fucked with the wrong bitch. I know you’re seeing him behind my back.

What on earth? Seeing who? The number was international, so it was someone abroad, no doubt from the States.

Another text chimed.

Ha! You are one ugly bastard!

Your heart began to race, pounding and sending heat all around your body. Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks in both anger and sadness. Whoever would be sending you these disgusting insults?

And another text.

You are seriously joking to think he’d want you over me?

Were these texts even meant for you? Your hands shaking and you holding back sobs, you blocked the number.

Rain was falling outside your window now, and not even that relaxing, calm sound could cure you of the hurt and disrupted nerves. You sat down on the end of the bed, resting your hands on your thighs and let the tears fall. You knew you were ugly, fat and the kind of woman most men walked past without a second glance. And here you were, waiting to see Richard, an actor and absolutely beautiful man in all ways. What kind of planet were you living on to think he’d everconsider you?

As if on cue, your phone began to ring and Richard’s name flashed upon the screen.

“Umm, h…hello,” you stuttered, trying to gather your nerves and thoughts together properly.

“Are you okay?” his voice came back, concerned for you. He must have noticed the tremor in your voice.

And you sobbed, unable to hold it back anymore.

“Love, what’s wrong?” his voice came again. “Do you want me to come to you?”

“N…no. Don’t put yourself out for me, Rich. I’ll come and see you later. I just…”

“Just, what?” Richard pressed.

“Nothing,” you said softly. You sniffed, trying to push your hurt away. “Are you alright?”

“No, you’re not doing your usual and diverting the conversation,” Richard replied, chuckling.

His chuckle made you smile.

“I’ll get a cab up to you. Are you in the same hotel as usual?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Give me half an hour, and I’ll be with you.”

What you would give for this man to be a permanent part of your life. To feel his kindness every day, be enveloped by his compassion and held steadfast by his faithful nature. But he belonged to someone else.

Like always, you were early. You sat in a leather seat in the lobby, sipping quickly on a free coffee you had made yourself by reception. It was bitter, but decent enough for a free beverage. The rain began to pound against the panes, and soon hailstones hit the ground outside, bouncing. Pedestrians rushed on past, some dashing inside the hotel for temporary refuge from the terrible weather.

Then you saw him. Dressed in jeans, an open neck navy shirt and his usual white trainers. That smile.

You stood up and he stopped in front of you, his arms twitching at his sides.

Richard felt his breath become caught in his lungs. Your eyes looked swollen, the window to a crushed spirit. “Are you alright?” he asked, his hand reaching out a little and then dropping back at his side.

“N…not really,” you replied.

“Come on,” he said, his hand reaching out for you to follow him. “Do you want to go back to your room or shall we get a drink in the restaurant?”

“Can we go back to my room because I’ll probably start crying again,” you replied, swallowing hard.

Richard remained silent as you both made your way back upstairs to floor three. You noticed the concierge eyeing you both as you disappeared into the elevator.

In the room and you sat down on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t even unpacked anything yet,” you told him.

Richard took out the chair which accompanied a small desk in front of your mirror and wheeled it to in front of you. He sat down, his knees only inches away from yours. You noticed his hands were resting at the very end of his knees as if wanting to reassure you and take yours in his.

“I had some really nasty text messages, saying I was ugly and that this person knew I was seeing someone behind their back,” you said. Tears rolled down your cheeks again. “They said they’d seen me and something about him wanting me over them. I have no idea…”

“What was the number?” Richard asked suddenly, his face having grown contorted into an expression of anger. “Show me the number.”

“I don’t know…I blocked it.”

“Please, show me the number…”

You grabbed your phone and brought up the blocked numbers.

Richard’s jaw clenched. “The fucking bitch,” he growled.

“What?”

“Miranda!” Richard hissed. “She got your number off my phone.”

“Your girlfriend?” you asked. Why was Richard’s girlfriend texting you?

“Not anymore. We broke up last night. That smashing you heard in the background, that was her. She’d been looking at my phone and it was the last straw. I’m going to…”

“Rich, calm down,” you said, taking his hand.

Richard looked down at your hands and tightened his own grip around yours. “I won’t let her get away with this. She doesn’t hurt you. No one does. I’d wanted to break it off with her for some time, last night being the reason I could use, but at the bottom of it all, it was because of you.”

“Me?”

Was Richard leaning in to you? His head was coming closer, until you felt his lips on yours. You took a huge intake of air, completely thrown off guard by this situation. Richard’s stubble tickled your skin and you smiled beneath the kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping away your tears.

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#Richard armitage #Richard Armitage x fem!reader #thoughts of you #thoughts of you part 2 #fanfiction #real person fanfiction #rpf #New York city #angst #overweight!reader

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dodgergilmore · 4 years

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3: after Jess came back/their argument at the Pub because Rory went back to her mom and basically 'rejects' the whole preppy rich lifestyle after getting her drive back. I think it would've been interesting for Rory to maybe stay single for the rest of the season and work on herself more (and get some actual serious therapy), it would've also been an interesting contrast to her mother finding herself in a very serious relationship that is also riddled with some serious

4: questions and conflicts (though I know that all of this goes against Amy's plan for Rory and her mom, but still. I just wish there was a more original positive ending/development to Rory as a character). Rambling aside, this makes me wonder. If you could change anything in the OG series/revival for the general plot/characters, what would you change?

Definitely agree there should’ve been more single Rory! That’s a good point, too, that after Rory goes back to Yale the story really just marches right on without really unpacking the events of 6x01-6x08. It doesn’t help that the April plot comes immediately after, so there’s not room for the Rory/Lorelai story to breathe because we’re right into the next conflict. Again, what a shame!!

I find season 7 to be a real slog to get through where it feels like those moments where you’re reading and you suddenly realise that you didn’t internalise a single word you just read, but they stick the landing with 7x22 especially with where Rory is concerned!

It’s easier for me to think about what I would change about the revival, maybe because there’s significantly less material to pull from? I always love hearing what other people would change about the series/revival, though!

With the revival.......the way for me to change as little as possible is just if the character motivations were better fleshed out or, in some cases, given at all.

I like the idea of Rory’s conflict centering around her professional life and even shifting course (similar to how it was Harvard until it was Yale) but let’s begin the episodes with more success for Rory! Let’s see the exact moment where journalism stops clicking for Rory – it doesn’t even need to be this big dramatic moment, it can be as simple as it no longer feeling fulfilling and I think there’s plenty of material there for conflict given that this was always the plan so what happens when that’s no longer the plan?

Let’s just scrap Paul altogether. Please. Please. Luke’s wifi passwords may have been the only running gag I liked?

I know people hate it but I can see how the Rory/Logan mess could fit in as a way of clinging to the past and escapism, which was how I interpreted it in the revival anyway but I need clearer character motivations!! The relationship is given so much real estate in the revival but we still know so little about what’s going on there? Instead of dropping the audience right in the middle of the affair, let’s see the actual moment they see each other for the first time after however long and see the struggle of the situation there, like addressing the whole ‘he proposed’ elephant in the room.......idk I have zero emotional investment there so I’m not too interested in delving into what that story would look like, but, importantly: let there be consequences! Again, it doesn’t even need to be this big dramatic thing but some disapproval from Lorelai’s end, even if it’s just in conversations with Luke, and some guilt on Rory and Logan’s end would be appreciated! I can actually see a path for Logan regressing in the time since Rory rejects his proposal, but I do feel for his fans here. If we see those beginning moments of the whole affair, though, we could get an explanation for how he ended up here.

More Jess, obviously! The stuff we got was good but I would especially loooooove to see some Lorelai and Jess hijinks. I can’t cook up something worthy but I want it to be an actual plot line and just be something light-hearted so we can explore that dynamic further!

Give Lane something to DO!!!!!!!! I’ve seen people mention maybe she runs the music shop in Stars Hollow or gives lessons, which I can absolutely vibe with! But I would also love some Lane/Rory/Paris fun-times! I don’t know what this would look like or where it would be but this revival needed more friendship moments.

Luke and Lorelai have moments of poor miscommunication in the original series, yes, but nine years later and they haven’t actually discussed kids? They’re only now getting married? Not to sound like a broken record but I need better character motivations here!! The kids stuff gets completely dropped after, I believe, the second episode? anyway so I wouldn’t even include that stuff – let’s get Paris involved with the plot in other ways, even though I liked all that we got of her. I think Richard’s death could’ve been used as a turning point for Lorelai – same with Rory, actually – with regard to getting married.

With the LL wedding, I totally buy that they would do a quiet little secret wedding before the big event and it was a sweet moment, but knowing that it only happened this way because of budget reasons is kind of annoying! I would think that this wedding would be, like, top priority because it’s The Ship of the whole show and also because it’s a natural way to bring all of these characters we’ve come to know into the same space: Emily, Jess, April, Sookie, the townies, etc. they all should have been there!

Also, because I am me...........Rory and Jess would share a dance at the wedding and there would be a callback to how he owes her a whole prom. Pepper in a little romantic tension from both sides, y’know?? Just a peppering, though, because I am shooting for a slow burn here and I actually like the foundation the revival sets up with them and her book writing.

The pregnancy................sigh. My feelings on this are very complicated and I am still unpacking them tbh! My biggest issue with it is that this show has a weird history when it comes to pregnancy/sex that it feels kind of......icky. Given how much the show focuses on parent-child relationships, I think there is potential there for a what would Rory as a mother look like? story. How does that change the dynamic between her and Lorelai and Emily? It would be very different from Lorelai’s experience because Rory is an adult and has a huge support system. The lack of build-up to this in the revival, though, is so questionable. Like, we see Rory with both Paris’ and Lane’s kids and they don’t really do anything with that???? I’ve decided that I don’t like it as an ending, but I can see how it could work as the beginning of a story if that makes sense? As an ending, it’s just this big, ‘gotcha!’ plot twist that we don’t know how we’re supposed to respond to, and Lorelai looks horrified! Again, it feels icky. As a beginning, though, it opens up stories to explore and I think it would allow for Rory to let go of some romantic dependencies and invest herself in a non-romantic relationship – even moreso in the actual revival, obviously, but girlfriend needs to be single for a bit, phew!

Emily is actually my favourite character so I come out of the revival feeling very validated lmao BUT I am scrapping that “Berta has an indistinguishable accent, isn’t that hilarious???” mess! I am scrapping it right out of my redux!!!

I really liked the Michel stuff! All of that stays!

#ask #i am not a writer at all #i take so long to respond to questions but i just want to be as comprehensive in my answers as possible lol #hope this along the lines of what you were looking for!#Anonymous

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givemequeen · 5 years

Text

nothing’s gonna change my life for you ; paul x german!reader

request: could you do a second part for the paul x german!reader? please add a happy end, my poor heart can't deal with angst thank you love 💕 a/n: OMFG THANK YOU and yes i can PART 1 HERE also flashbacks are in italic pairing: paul x german!reader summary: you miss Paulie way too much warnings: flufffffffff year: 1963 probs word count: 1,879

You looked at the photograph of Paul, it had been around a week since he called you since the breakup and you didn’t want to admit it but you missed him. Of course, you weren’t over him, if you were you would have thrown out that photograph or sent it back to him but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Michael was great, he was more than great. He treated you well, had a good, stable job, loved you and your parents loved him but he wasn’t Paul. No one will ever be Paul or close to Paul. No one was going to love you the way he did. No one was going to have the same effect on you that Paul had.

“Hey yn,” he said into the phone.

“Paul?” you asked as your heart stopped.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I- Hi.”

“Hi.” It really was him, how had he found your number? That wasn’t the most important thing right now! Why did he call you? Did he want to get back together?

“Hi, Paul.”

“How is everything going?” Paul asked, his voice was soft and quiet.

“Everything’s good, what about you?” you eyed Michael, he was sat on the couch waiting for you to come back. You held up a finger and whispered something to him before going into your room.

“Everything is also good,” he said as you could tell he was nodding. “Who were you talking to?” he added even more softly, you could hear the fear in his voice.

“Erm Michael.”

“Michael?”

“Yeah Paul, he’s my... he’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” he breathed in deeply to stifle his annoyance. “Yeah makes sense.”

“Makes sense?” you asked, was he trying to say something?

“Yeah- Wait I don’t mean you’re like a whore or something. I just mean you’re bound to move on, y’know?” you sighed and smiled.

“Yeah, have you? Have you moved on?” you feared his answer, it was wrong but you still did.

No “Yeah, I suppose but I’m not seeing anyone if that’s what you’re wondering.” he felt hope inside his heart, maybe you weren’t over him.

“Oh, pity I guess.”

“Yeah, I suppose... We have a manager.”

“A manager?”

“Yeah! Brian Epstein. We’re going to release an album soon. Please please me, I sent over a copy so you’ll get it any day now.”

“Wow, Paulie! I’m happy for ya, I really am!” he smiled at the nickname but shook his head, you were with someone and that someone wasn’t him.

“Thank you yn. I need to go now, John’s calling me but we’ll catch up soon okay?”

“Okay, say hi to the lads for me.”

“I will, bye yn.”

“Bye!” you hanged up the phone and smiled at it. He sure was going somewhere.

For the next week, all you did was replay the phone call in your head and smile like an idiot. When the album came you nearly cried. You definitely cried when you heard his sweet voice playing through the speaker. Michael didn’t suspect a thing, he didn’t even notice that you were falling out of love with him. That is if you were ever in love.

You listened to the whole album while looking through the small number of photos you had of him and once the album was done you broke into tears. You missed him so much, you just had to be with him, in his arms, kissing him gently as he sang to you. And you couldn’t stay with Michael, you couldn’t be with him if you didn’t love him. It wasn’t fair for you or him so that night you told him.

You explained how you didn’t love him anymore and he surprisingly understood. He wished you the best and left your flat. Once he had left you rushed into your room and packed a bag, you were going to visit Paul tomorrow. It was all very rushed, you didn’t have a ticket or a place to stay but you knew Cynthia would let you stay at hers.

When she came over to Germany to visit John a year ago you two quickly became friends. And when she left you two stayed in contact. Even when you broke up with Paul she still sent letters to you. Cynthia even helped you through the breakup.

The next morning you went to the airport and got a ticket for the next flight. You had around two hours before the flight left. After you checked in your luggage you looked around the shop and picked up a gift for Cynthia. It was a teddy bear, it was cheesy but you thought it would be funny.

“Passengers of flight 525 for Liverpool please board now.” you paid for the teddy and rushed over to the plane. Soon enough you were seated in your seat and once the plane took off you took out your book and read. The flight went by rather quick, you slept and read most of the time.

Once you reached Liverpool you took a cab and gave Cynthia’s address. Hopefully, she still lived there, if not you had no idea what you were going to do. You decided to burn that bridge when you got to it. You paid the driver and got your luggage before going up the stairs to the flat.

“Who is it?” Cynthia asked from inside when you knocked, you sighed. She still lived here.

“It’s yn!” you yelled, you heard her drop something and rush to the door.

“yn?” she said, her smile and eyes went wide when she saw you. Cynthia brought you into a bone-crushing hug. “You’re here!” she pulled away and got a good look at you “What are you doing here?” she added. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to visit.” you lied.

“You should have called,” Cynthia said as she pulled you into her flat.

“Sorry, very last minute.” you went into the living room and looked around, everything was exactly the same. “I’m very sorry but is it okay if I stay here?”

“Sure you can.” she sat you down on the couch. “In case you’re wondering John isn’t home, he’s at a gig with the lads.”

“Oh, yeah I heard they released an album.”

“Yeap. They have a new drummer, Ringo and he’s really nice.”

You and Cynthia spent the rest of the day catching up. Turns out Paul was a bassist now and they had changed their image and name. She told you you would sleep in her bed with her while John slept on the couch. At first, you refused and insisted you’ll be fine with the couch but she was having none of it.

“Would you look at the time? The guys will be home soon.” Cynthia said as she checked her watch.

“The guys?” you asked nervously.

“Yeah, they usually come here after gigs,” she said. “I’ll help you unpack.” you smiled at her and followed her into her room. After unpacking you asked to use the bathroom to take a shower. You took a quick shower and changed into a nicer outfit.

You dried your hair and went into the kitchen where Cynthia was cooking. She smiled at you when you came in and complimented your outfit. You thanked her and went to help her. Surprisingly Cynthia hadn’t brought up your past with Paul. which you were thankful for, but deep down you knew she wanted to ask. After putting a timer you helped her set the table.

Cynthia had just set down the last plate when the door opened. You were standing in the hallway in front of the door, you spun around and held your breath as the door opened. Paul had opened the door, which was odd since this wasn’t his place, and was looking back and laughing at what John had said. John saw you first and stopped causing George and, who you guessed was, Ringo to bump into him.

“Ow John!” yelled George, Paul was still looking back to see what was going on with John.

“yn!” John said with a big smile, Paul whipped his head to look at you and froze.

“yn?” he asked.

“Hi.” you muttered and John rushed to you. He picked you up and spun you around.

“YN!!!” John repeated after setting you down. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Just visiting.” you lied again. George rushed in next pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“yn!”

“Hi Georgie,” you said as you hugged him but your eyes were stuck on Paul. He had entered the flat, his jaw was still hanging and he had the same shocked expression on his face.

After George put you down Ringo came up to you and smiled. He extended his hand and introduced himself. “Heya, I’m Richard Starkey but my friends call me Ringo Starr.” you shook it and smiled back at him.

“yn yln.”

“Heard lots about you,” Ringo said as the handshaking ended.

“Hopefully all good.” you chuckled and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ears. Slowly you looked up to Paul, his hands were by his sides and he still had the same look. John caught on and dragged the boys away.

“Let’s leave them alone,” John whispered before going into the dining room where Cynthia was.

“Hi.” he finally said.

“Hi.”

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Paul took a step closer to you and so did you.

“Neither did I, kind of last minute.”

“You? Last minute?” he chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“I know.” you laughed.

“Is... Is Michael here?” Paul asked as he looked around, you could sense the fear in his voice.

“No,” you said a bit too quickly. “I kind of broke up with him.”

“Oh,” Paul said and you saw a small smile form on his face but he quickly wiped it off.

“Yeah...” he was very close to you now. Slowly his hand reached up to cup your face. “I missed you.” Paul admitted, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes.

“I- I missed you too Paulie.” he chuckled slightly at the nickname. You nodded at his silent request to kiss you, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His hands went down to your hips, he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you close.

“yn please don’t leave me again,” Paul whispered after pulling away. You smiled and pressed your forehead against his.

“I won’t and even if I wanted to I couldn’t. I love you too much to be away from you.”

“yn I love you too, I’ve missed you so much and I haven’t been the same since we broke up.” you smiled and kissed him again, you cupped his face and looked into his eyes. Paul hugged you, you rested your head on his shoulder and stood there in comfortable silence.

“OI! yn! Paul! You guys going to have dinner or just fuck out there?”John yelled from the dining room. You both chuckled and smiled when you heard Cynthia hit him.

“John! Shut the fuck up, they’re having their moment!” Cynthia scolded.

“Please yn and Paul, I’m hungry and Cynthia said we could only eat if you guys joined us.” George complained.

“GEORGE!” Cynthia yelled.

“Let’s go in, ya?” Paul said as he looked back to you.

“Okay.” you said with a big smile.

#the beatles #the beatles fluff #the beatles angst #the beatles x reader #the beatles x german!reader #the beatles imagine #the beatles one shot #paul mccartney #paul mccartney fluff #paul mccartney angst #paul mccartney x reader #paul mccartney german!xreader #paul mccartney imagine #paul mccartney one shot

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bittysvalentines · 5 years

Text

Gonna Make This Place Your Home

From: @lizards-online

To: @dellessanna

Kent set a box down in the foyer with a huff. He and Tater had finally both retired and decided to get a house in Providence together and really settle down. They had done the “fall in love & get married” thing several years back. Now all they needed was a home, a dog, and 2.5 kids and they would be set living the American suburbia dream. Well, as much as two gayhockey players could.

The sun was just getting high in the sky, as beams beat down through the skylight. Kent could handle heat after all the years of playing Las Vegas, but he never did enjoy the humidity of east coast summers, even when he was a kid. As he wiped the sweat off his brow, he heard his husband as he stepped through the threshold carrying one end of a very large sectional.

“Move Kenny, we are needing to get your oversized couch in!” Tater hollered as he walked backwards through the entryway.

“Seriously, this thing is heavy!” Swoops grunted, carrying the other end of the L shaped sectional

“Hey, aren’t you two professional athletes?” Kent chided, shoving the boxes they had already carried into the side so as to make way. “Fuck off Parser, lifting a couch is not the same as passing a puck” “Intelligent observation there Troy,” Snowy stood behind both men a decently sized box labeled ‘Bedroom’.

“By the way Tater, I swear to god if what I’m carrying is a box of sex shit you’re gonna pay so many fines.”

“Cannot fine if retired!” Tater called out in a sing-song voice from the family room where he and Swoops were setting down the couch. “Besides,” he grinned, returning to the foyer “we already move sex stuff in first.” Snowy rolled his eyes as he began to climb the staircase to the second floor. “T.M.I. man. T.M.I” Kent smiled to himself observing the scene around him. He never did imagine his life going this way. He never thought he would be allowed to have this: a gorgeous loving husband, a group of supportive friends whom he was out to, and as of this past season, the ability to retire on his own terms.

He had always imagined he would play as long as the league would let him, and then once he was outed by an ex, a hookup, Deadspin or whatever, he would take his hockey money and disappear from the public eye. He didn’t want to be branded as “the gay hockey player” or the other gay hockey player”.

But, a lot had changed the year Jack came out on the ice. The media backlash that hit him was harsher than he expected at first: reporters cornering him on his morning run to ask him for his comment or opinion, social media blowing up with pictures of Kent and Jack from the Q he didn’t even know existed, and wilder and wilder speculations being thrown his way through way of news reports and “investigative reporters” (read: busybodies with no sense of personal space or human decency).

It was all made more difficult by the fact that Jack had not warned him in any way shape or form that he was going to come out on public television in front of thousands of screaming fans right after winning the Stanley Cup. Jack and Kent later spoke about the event at length, with the former apologizing for the lack of communication. But not much could be done at that point. Kent had already been thrown under the metaphorical gay bus.

Much to Kent’s surprise however, his organization was willing to support him after all that had happened. His GM, Grant, met him at the gym two days after the fact, saying to him “If there’s something you want to tell me, tell me in your own time, but I’ll make sure the organization is there for you when you do” He came out the next day, posting a picture of Kit sitting in Alexei’s lap (with his permission) with the caption saying “tfw ur cat ignores u for ur man.”

Kent was quickly brought out of his reminiscent reverie by the force of two children knocking him over. “Liv, Ricky, you’re here earlier than expected. Did your dads let you skip out on camp today to help your Uncle Tater and I move in?”

Olivia Marie Bittle-Zimmermann, and Richard James Bittle-Zimmermann were Jack and Eric’s 5 year old twins. Both had deep brown eyes like their Daddy and the striking dark hair of their Papa. Kent swore they got bigger and bigger every single time he and Alexei saw them. “Uncle Kenny Uncle Kenny! Daddy’s gonna let me carry boxes,” Olivia squealed in delight, pulling on Kent to get up.

“I wanted to go to camp, but I also wanna see Uncle Tater,” Ricky was only slightly pouting but Kent could tell it was just for show.

“Why not me too you little bugger? Favoring Uncle Tater over me?” Kent gasped, in faux offense. Ricky smiled and ran off to find his favorite of the two.

Standing up to his full height, Kent picked up Olivia and popped her onto his side. “What took you two old men so long? We’ve already brought most of the boxes in.”

“I’m younger n’ you Kent Parson, so watch your tongue. We got held up.” Eric Bittle Zimmermann stood at the entryway referring to the two sizable pieces of tupperware containing what Kent hoped to be pie. Blueberry for Tater and chocolate mousse for himself. “I’m gonna go set these down before I grab some boxes.”

“Kitchen’s that way” Kent pointed down the hall to the left, setting Olivia down. “Why don’t you go help your Uncles carry stuff into the kitchen kiddo?” Jack walked in a moment later, carrying one of the few boxes left in the truck. It was labeled ‘Kitchen’. “Bits wanted to make sure y’all had pie for when everything was unpacked.”

“Lookat you Zimms, using ‘y’all’ like a born and bred southerner” “Haha yeah, after being with Bits so long it just slips out.” “I’ll quit chirping you man, but here, I’ll show you where to take that.” Kent led the way to the kitchen, carrying his own box he had set down earlier. Entering into the kitchen Kent saw Swoops and Snowy sitting criss-cross applesauce on the ground with Olivia and Ricky playing patty cake amongst the assorted boxes. His heart softened at the sight. He really did love those kids as if he were their biological uncle. He set down the box on the counter and walked up to his husband to give him a small kiss. “Hey babe. We’re almost done” Alexei in turn picked Kent up and placed a fat kiss on Kent’s cheek. Both of the twins made a face “Ewww” “Is good. Is getting too hot to lift” Alexei said, putting Kent down. “I swear y’all are so weak, it ain’t even 85 and you’re complaining.” Eric was on the opposite end of the counter, taking plates and silverware out of boxes. “Bits you say that as if you don’t put on a hat and gloves when it’s not even 10 degrees out” Jack chirped from the other end of the kitchen, taking a blender out of the box closest to him. Eric made a comment under his breath about Jack’s use of Celsius. “Both of you quit unpacking. Lyosha and I can take care of that later. Let’s just pause for a moment and dig into whatever Bits brought. I’m starving” Jack set down the blender and Eric placed the plates down on the counter. “I was gettin them to put the food on.” “C’mon Bitty we can just use our hands” Snowy called from the floor. Ricky was sitting in his lap messing with Snowy’s phone and nodded his head fiercely in agreement. “Yeah, no need to fuss Eric.” Swoops was right next to him with Olivia in his lap. She was wearing Swoops’ cap backwards and nodding reverently as if to agree. Eric shook his head in disagreement. “I swear once a hockey player, always a hockey player. Y’all are heathens and we are using plates.” “But Daddy!” The twins called simultaneously from the floor. Kent smiled. “C’mon now you two, gotta listen to your Dad, otherwise, he won’t let you have any pie. Even if he is taking the fun out of eating” “Kent V. Parson, I swear!” Later that night after the pie had been eaten and a good percentage of the boxes had been unpacked, Kent sat in bed next to his husband, replaying the events of the day over in his head. The image of the twins running around the house, playing and having fun caused Kent to feel a tinge inside. He wondered what it would be like if they had their own kids. It was the first time he’d given serious thought on the matter. He never allowed himself to imagine having a husband, a house and well, happiness. But now, he let himself imagine. He imagined tons of kids, smiling, calling him Dad. It made something in him warm, but it also frightened him. Kent had never had a relationship with his father. He didn’t even know the first thing of taking care of kids. Would he even be a good dad? “котенок, you thinking so loud. Keep me up. What is wrong?” Alexei sat up and turned to face Kent in their bed, interrupting his negative train of thought. “Lyosha have you ever thought about...having kids?” Kent sat up and faced his husband. Alexei paused for a moment. “Yes, many times. Did not think could though. Because of-” “Because of the gay thing” Kent cut him off. “But, like if you wanted, well, we’re both retired now. And we have this bigass house. We could adopt a few. Or maybe get a surrogate.” Alexei hummed and pulled Kent into a hug. “I’m liking that idea. We talk more about it tomorrow. It’s been long day.” He kissed Kent and laid back down on the bed. Kent laid back down on the bed and smiled, closing his eyes. Suddenly, he opened one and smirked, “Hey what’s that thing straight people in movies say when they talk about having kids? ‘Let’s start now?’” Alexei looked at Kent “Well…”

#kenttater #fanfic #bittysvalentines #bv2019 #omgcp

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theculturedmarxist · 5 years

Text

Randall Lane is a fucking bastard capshit shill that should shut his idiot cockholster.

I was in the library the other day and sitting on a shelf was a stack of Forbes magazines, the facing issue featuring some dickhead grinning smugly at me beneath the headline

Reimagining Capitalism: How The Greatest System Ever Conceived (And Its Billionaires) Need To Change

I knew that I was going to hate whatever I found on those pages, but I had to read it anyway. It was intriguing for two reasons: capitalists actually acknowledging the fact that systemic changes need to be made is something in itself, something which should make people extremely nervous, and it’s never a bad idea to read enemy propaganda. Of course Forbes is capprop par excellence, and I was morbidly curious in regards to what they thought needed to be changed and how. The most surprising thing about its suggestions was just how unsurprising they are in their tepidity and belief in their own perverse self-assured reaction, with the usual capitalist mythologizing mixed in.

Sitting in a modest room in New York’s immodest Peninsula Hotel, the richest person in the world for most of the past 20 years ponders an existential question suddenly in vogue among the left’s confiscatory set: Should he even exist? “It is fascinating,” says Bill Gates, “that for the first time in my life, people are saying, ‘Okay, should you have billionaires?’ ”

Dispassionately, he begins to unpack that thesis. “I’m afraid if you really implemented something like that, that the amount you would gain would be much less than the amount you would lose. Now, that sounds self-interested, so who’s the neutral witness on this one? … We need somebody who’s not wealthy to say that in some cases allowing people to be wealthy is okay.”

Allow me to raise my hand. For the past year, I’ve had one-on-one discussions with no fewer than two dozen billionaires, including face-to-face meetings with the three richest people in the world—Jeff Bezos, Gates and Warren Buffett—touching on various aspects of capitalism’s future. It comes at an urgent moment: You’d have to go back to the 1960s, or maybe even the 1930s, to find a time when the primacy of the free market system was so widely questioned.

Just 56% of Americans say they have a positive image of capitalism, according to a Gallup poll last summer, compared with 37% who said the same thing about socialism. In a Fox News poll during the same period, 36% of adults approved of a shift in the U.S. “away from capitalism and more toward socialism”—a huge increase from 2012, when just 20% said so. Among Millennials and Gen Z, free market skepticism is actually the majority view. In Gallup’s poll, 51% of those 18 to 29 had a positive view of socialism—albeit the largely fuzzy Scandinavian/Bernie Sanders version rather than the Soviet/Berlin Wall hard stuff—compared with 45% for capitalism. That finding was echoed by a Harvard survey of young adults in which 51% said they did not support capitalism and only 19% said they “identify as a capitalist.” These sentiments come amid an economy that by all traditional measures is booming, with full employment and 3% growth. So far, 2019 has offered only reinforcement of these views, as tech companies have continued to bleed credibility, Howard Schultz turned himself into a cartoon and a slew of tax-the-very-rich proposals garnered surprisingly high support. “This has been brewing for years, accelerating in the last few months and again in the last few weeks,” says Steve Case, the AOL founder who now runs an investment firm, Revolution. The hedge fund titan Paul Tudor Jones adds: “I think we need to acknowledge that we’re at a crossroads, with massive social fissures.”

And those were just some of the billionaires willing to speak on the record. Virtually everyone I talked to acknowledged the need for change. Some incremental and many systemic; some spoke in whispers, many in full-throated pleas for “reform” or “a reboot.” The rock star Bono had perhaps the most poetic suggestion: a reimagination.If such a term conjures Steve Jobs or Walt Disney, two of capitalism’s visionary saints, so be it. Entrepreneurial capitalism remains, objectively, the best system ever invented to create and distribute prosperity, and if you look at the billion-plus people in China, India and elsewhere who were lifted from extreme poverty in the past two decades, it remains easy to sing its praises. The dynamism remains true in the U.S., too. Of The Forbes 400 list of richest Americans, 67% are self-made and 11% are immigrants. “America works, and it works now better than it ever worked,” Buffett says.

Since too many Americans don’t feel that way, the time is ripe to reimagine a system that addresses them. Pick the brains of some of the greatest-ever manifestations of the American Dream, and an AAA-version of capitalism emerges, one more authentic, accessible and accountable—and perhaps, in an age of uncertainty, one that’s built to last. The stakes couldn’t be higher, as forces gather to threaten the greatest prosperity engine ever built.

Reimagining Capitalism as...Authentic

The French nobleman Alexis de Tocqueville’s travels across America in the 1830s coincided with the emergence of socialist theory back in Europe, a movement he presciently and stridently criticized. For Tocqueville, the balanced capitalism he witnessed compared favorably to the options back home, such as ceding power to the government or a more feudal system “managed by a few rich and powerful individuals.” “The inhabitants of the United States almost always manage to combine their own advantage with that of their fellow citizens,” he observed. Tocqueville’s musings inspired Friedrich Hayek’s Road to Serfdom and filtered into the very first issue of Forbes, printed during Russia’s Revolution, when the magazine’s founder, B.C. Forbes, famously declared that “business was originated to produce happiness, not to pile up millions.”

Milton Friedman was another 20th-century admirer of Tocqueville, particularly for his focus on political equality as a driver of prosperity. But Friedman famously held that among all the constituents of business—the customer, the employees, the community—just one ultimately mattered, the shareholder. The only social responsibility of business, he declared, was to maximize profits. If shareholders wanted to spend their profits on altruistic projects, great, but that was at their sole discretion, with the assumption they were buying something of value—perhaps social approbation or the assuaging of guilt.

This maxim gave us LBOs, private equity deals and employee buyouts. And to many of the world’s most successful capitalists, it also created many of the current ills. “How wrong I was about Milton Friedman—most of us were,” says Jones, who built a $5 billion fortune exploiting market opportunities, including shorting the 1987 market crash. “It came at great cost to other corporate stakeholders and eroded the trust on which companies, and civil society, depends.”

In an era when consumers crave authenticity, the Tocqueville version, which sees profits as a by-product of business rather than its singular mission, offers a natural strain of capitalism that’s already hugely popular, especially among younger Americans. For Millennials, according to a massive Deloitte survey in 2018, the bottom three priorities for a business should be profits, efficiency and sales. The top three? Generating jobs, improving society and innovation.

Authenticity explains why Americans, while disliking Wall Street and big business, continue to love entrepreneurs (87% approval, per Gallup) and small business (96%). And why purpose-driven companies like Patagonia and Warby Parker are wreathed in halos, no matter what they’re selling or how rich the founders get.

“When we’re acquiring companies, one of the things I look at very closely is ‘Are the founders of a company missionaries or mercenaries?’ ” Jeff Bezos told me several months ago, before revealing the answer with his famous braying laugh. “It’s actually very easy to tell—missionaries make better products and services.” They also engender the one authentic trait that’s ultimately the most profitable: trust. That word, says Bezos, “is what allows you to expand the business.”

Of course, trust is a double-edged sword. As Facebook treats user data as a chit rather than a covenant, the company’s reputation—and Zuckerberg’s—has tanked. (In the realm of extremely unlikely outcomes, it’s now easier to envision him in the Big House than in the White House.) It’s also why Wall Street remains about as popular as big tobacco.

But even in finance, roots of authenticity shoot up. Impact investing, long dismissed as a niche for do-gooders, has emerged as a growth area, with some $35 billion committed in 2018 to fund businesses that carry societal benefits without sacrificing returns. “We’re talking about solving problems using innovation and entrepreneurship,” says Nancy Pfund, who founded DBL Partners and has raised $625 million in three venture funds. Her flagship, with investments in Tesla and SolarCity, has ranked in the top performance quartile across this decade. “When you just look at the super-short-term shareholder, you’re not taking advantage of innovation—and you’re cheating the future.”

The numbers are getting larger: Breakthrough Energy Ventures, backed by a consortium of billionaires such as Gates, Bezos, Michael Bloomberg, Richard Branson and Jack Ma, has pledged $1 billion for startups that promise radical solutions to carbon emissions. A similarly platinum-plated tycoon cohort, including Bono, Laurene Powell Jobs and Jeff Skoll, has backed the Rise Fund, an arm of private equity giant TPG that has deployed $1.8 billion in 25 investments they think will have significant impact on society. “People are rightfully asking, ‘Is the system working?’ ” says Bill McGlashan, the CEO of the Rise Fund. “We believe that capitalism is a better servant than master.”

Reimagining Capitalism as...Accessible

For those who rightly still believe in America as the land of opportunity, a Fox News survey from just a few weeks ago should offer pause: 42% of Americans do not think “the way capitalism works in the U.S. these days” gives them “a fair shot.” Even more troubling: In a country that has always held true to the premise that you could make it through hard work—or at least your children could—18% thought that the American Dream is out of reach for their family.

And there are ample stats to back up the sentiment. In the U.S. the top 1% of workers, collectively, earn vastly more than the bottom 50%. “The market system as it gets more specialized pushes more money to the top,” Buffett explains. “The natural function of a more specialized market economy is to divert more and more of the rewards to the top. That’s something I don’t think we’ve fully addressed in this country.”

But the situation is actually far worse than yawning income disparity. Americans have historically viewed the superrich as heroes, not villains, for a simple reason: “We all thought we could be like them,” Jones says. It’s the accelerating lack of upward mobility that’s fueling much of this populist anger. For all the anecdotal success stories, if you’re born in the wrong Zip code, to the wrong parents, the road to The Forbes 400 has never looked longer or narrower.

Take venture capital, the clearest starting point to a billion-dollar fortune over the past 20 years—a door the vast majority of Americans have no way of opening. Just 15% of VC money goes to women founders, 1% to black entrepreneurs and less than a quarter to anyone who lives outside California, New York and Massachusetts. Yes, a far more global, diverse pool now has access to those funding meccas, but that’s little comfort to a parent whose kid goes to a so-so public school in a city or region that’s been left behind.

“It needs to be a national priority to level the playing field,” says Case, who for the past few years has conducted a Rise of the Rest bus tour, traveling the country and putting millions into more than 100 companies that aren’t in Boston, New York or the San Francisco Bay Area. To Case, it’s both civic duty and opportunity, as brilliant minds lie fallow in low-cost areas desperate for high-growth hope.

Pfund actually counts women leaders before investing in a firm—almost two thirds of the companies in her funds have a woman at the CFO level or higher. She also pushes her portfolio to spread the opportunity, through profit-sharing plans, living-wage commitments and encouragement to hire in underserved areas.

All these efforts are on the margin, short of a commitment to create educational opportunities for those with ambition and then a track for them going forward. “We will have the resources,” Buffett says. “The question is, will we in effect pull everybody in who’s able-bodied and willing to work 40 hours a week so they can make a decent living, raise a family?”

Reimagining Capitalism as...Accountable

Something unusual happened a few hours after my sit-down with Bill Gates. Fresh off pondering the future of billionaires, he went on Stephen Colbert’s eponymous show with his wife, Melinda, to a crescendo of cheers. In accepting his new role as the world’s second-richest person, he quipped, “We’re trying to give it away faster”—and the audience swooned. From their call for higher taxes on the superrich to the obligations of the successful to the empowerment of women, the applause kept coming. By the end, Colbert was playfully goading the Gateses to run for political office.

Compare that with the Bronx cheer that echoed through New York later that week, when Amazon announced it was pulling out from its HQ2 plan in Queens. The math-challenged politicians who killed the deal took justifiable heat from pretty much everyone except their base. But Bezos was bloodied just as badly. He’s worth over $130 billion (at least until his divorce settles), and Amazon is worth $800 billion. Why extract a measly $3 billion in corporate welfare from New York? In the truest Friedman sense: because he has shareholders—and he could.

The dueling reactions underscore an American truth as timeless as Astor and Cooper and Rockefeller: Americans expect their meritocratic royalty to remain accountable to the public that helped create them.

Traditionally, that means philanthropy, an aspect of extreme success (there are now 137 deca-billionaires in the world) that no longer feels optional, albeit one that still engenders cynicism. Says Gates: “The attack that ‘Why should you even have a say in setting the agenda?’ That has a certain resonance to it.”

For Gates, who within our lifetime will likely be regarded as the greatest philanthropist ever, accountability starts with framing the role: “picking novel ideas” or “off-the-wall theories,” as he says, and then proving that the concepts work, or don’t, taking the kinds of risks that no taxpayer-funded government—or shareholder-dependent corporation—could justify.

But in this era, Gates also recognizes that motives will be questioned. “If we come and improve math class,” Gates says, “then people are like, ‘Hey, you didn’t do the band.’ ” For this reason, Gates tries to hold himself publicly accountable through transparency, including a public letter from the foundation that he and Melinda write each year. It’s also the driving reason for the Giving Pledge, in which 189 of the world’s wealthiest people have affirmed, for all to see, that they will give away at least half of their fortunes, most much more.

A Giving Pledge signatory, Salesforce founder Marc Benioff has similarly shifted from anonymous giving to putting his name on two hospitals, in part to be a role model for emerging tech billionaires and in part because “it sent a message that we’re supporting the community in a tangible way.” And he does the same thing with his company, which pioneered a “1, 1, 1” model that placed 1% of the company’s equity in a trust, along with a pledge to donate 1% of its software products and 1% of his 35,000 employees’ time to volunteer work. It’s a combination that’s generated $260 million in grants and 3.8 million hours for civic causes.

Rather than rely on such voluntary munificence, Jones, who cut his philanthropic teeth founding the innovative Robin Hood Foundation in New York, has focused for the past several years on holding corporate America directly accountable for better capitalism. He founded Just Capital, which has surveyed more than 80,000 Americans in order to get a precisely calibrated take on what makes a good corporate citizen. America’s older workers, it turns out, aren’t so different from its youngest, desiring companies to pay and treat their employees well, put out good products that have integrity, and care about the environment and the community.

Just Capital ranks every major public company across its 36 criteria, from best to worst, proffering a Good Housekeeping-like seal to the top companies, in order to spur better corporate citizenry. (Disclosure: I’m on the Just Capital board, and Forbes publishes the annual Just 100 list each fall.) “You can’t manage what you can’t measure,” says Jones, who also helped Just launch a $200 million ETF in June 2018 that has so far outperformed the S&P 500.

Measurement has also been driving McGlashan at the Rise Fund, which has a hard time justifying billions in investments in social good when no one can define what “good” is. To that end, Rise incubated and then recently spun out Y Analytics, a firm devoted to measuring this impact—a key step in making capitalism still more solutions-oriented.

Such remedies are urgent. “Unless we find a market-based solution to the exponential growth in inequality, we will end up with populist legislation that creates a hammer to go after every nail,” Jones says. He’s right. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s much-touted 70% income tax bracket displays a stark lack of understanding how fortunes in this country are built—through ownership, not earnings. Elizabeth Warren’s wealth surcharge would require an army of appraisers. “Here’s the problem with all of those,” says the venture capitalist Vinod Khosla. “There is international mobility.”

Virtually every billionaire I spoke with acknowledged that higher taxes on the billionaire set are inevitable; most even saw them as beneficial, if correctly applied. According to Gates, Buffett, Khosla and others, the correct way to levy taxes on the superrich is at a transaction point. Either an estate tax without the loopholes that currently render it useless or a higher capital gains tax applied only on extreme fortunes, to avoid suppressing growth.

And better yet, the tax code can be refined to encourage growth and spread it around more evenly. The launch of opportunity zones, engineered by the Facebook and Spotify billionaire Sean Parker, has already been put in motion, offering tantalizing tax breaks in needy areas of all 50 states. Adjusting corporate tax rates based on jobs created—more jobs, lower taxes—is another worthy idea.

The eternal beauty of the free market is its ability to evolve. Leave it to the most admired capitalist in the world, Warren Buffett, who has lived through more than one third of this country’s history and who bought his first stock in 1942, at a moment when it was conceivable the U.S. could lose World War II, to make a prediction: “The luckiest person that will ever be born in the world to date will be a baby being born in the United States today.” Bet against Buffett, and capitalism, at your peril.

Some socialists poo-poo periodicals like Forbes or The Economist for being bourgeois rags, and they’re right. This whole piece is trash not fit for wiping one’s ass. It’s nothing but a puff propaganda piece for capitalists to tell other capitalists about how great they are, how essential they are, how right they are by virtue of being billionaires and how the jealous little people should just bootstrap themselves into wealth and plenty like they did.

It’s thanks in part to pieces like this that make class warfare and violent revolution ultimately necessary. These cretins delude themselves in a comfortable fantasy, a narrative myth about their own greatness meant to reassure themselves that the innumerable interlocking apparatuses which produce and secure their wealth are in fact benign, that the human suffering it produces is incidental rather than inherent. Randall Lane, this stupid fucker, praises Benioff for doing nothing. Nothing! He himself doesn’t do anything for charity except give away a tiny fraction of other people’s stolen money and forces his employees to do “volunteer work.” But that’s praiseworthy in their degenerate minds. Other people do the work, and they get all the credit.

“Opportunity Zones.” Reading the words made me want to vomit. Orwell, who these bastards have the temerity to quote in the back of the magazine, sandwiched between Sappho and Ayn Rand, would have a field day.

Forbes is a valuable resource for any socialist. We should thank the capitalists for being so considerate in compiling in one place so much information on these criminals and their crimes. All in all, a tremendous compilation of evidence for each of these loathsome worms’ cases before the people’s tribunal. Masturbatory passages will be read aloud to the millionaires and billionaires and their subhuman frontmen like Randall, and will be the last thing they hear aside from the hissing sound of metal on metal before the People’s Razor delivers the results of their “market-based solutions.”

#capitalists #capitalism #jeff bezos #bill gates #randall lane #guillotine bait #propaganda

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tgwltw · 6 years

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Knight in Tarnished Armour.

This was something that I worked on last year (according to the date I last touched this document was September 2017) and I decided to just post it here and see how it goes from there. Just so you know, I am not really sure where I am going with this but I know that I want to see this going somewhere at least. Hope you enjoy!

p/s: lemme know what you think about this, btw. If you want a continuation and all that sort, just drop by a comment. Otherwise, it’s fine!

Summary: Handsome billionaire Jason Todd-Wayne discarded Y/N L/N after mind blowing nights together a few years ago and your dreams of a future with him shattered just like your heart. Can your knight in tarnished armour return to your loving arms once he discovers just how big the mistake he had made is?

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Your best friend, Cassandra, asks as she helps you carry the remaining boxes in to your new small apartment. You have used up the last of the money you have received to get this apartment and paid for two months’ worth of rent. You give her a small, weak smile as you nod your head.

“I really have no other choice, Cass.” You tell her as you look around the apartment. To be quite honest, it probably should not even be called an apartment. The one-room consisted of a very small, square kitchen, an even smaller living room and two doors that lead to an equally small bedroom and bathroom. Everything about the place is small but it was cheap. You know you are mostly going to end up sharing your bed with him but it was better than the hellhole you shared with those people previously. “Even if the bed doesn’t fit, there’s always that.” You tell yourself, staring at the sofa - you can definitely make do with that.

Cassandra sighs as she places the boxes down by the door to the bedroom, wincing when she finally takes note of the place. When you had told her you had gotten an apartment, she had expected something that resembled one… not whatever this place is. “Babe, are you sure you can’t get in touch with his dad or something? I mean, this place…” She trails off, biting her lower lip, realising her mistake just a little too late. “Sorry.” Cassandra furrows her eyebrows at the glare you sent her.

You run a hand through your hair before apologising to her as well. You should not have taken your anger out at her - she didn’t deserve it. After all, she wasn’t the one who made that choice; back then, you had been too naive, too young. “I haven’t had a wink of rest these past few days and Mark has had a high fever and it kept him up most nights and I,” You break your sentence off, shaking your head. Now was not the time to have a pity party for yourself - you still have a lot of things to do! “I just have a lot of things right now and I can’t afford to take a break.”

Cassandra throws an arm around you, pulling you close to her and you lean against her shoulder, forever feeling thankful and grateful to have a best friend like her. “I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.” She rubs her hand on your arm soothingly. Cassandra knew that the subject of Mark’s dad is a very touchy one for you but sometimes she really could not help it. She has never met him before and she has been by your side for almost your entire life - with the exception of the time you had moved out of Gotham - but now that you are back and with a son, she cannot help but wonder sometimes.

Mark is a very sweet, energetic child even if he is a little bit clumsy sometimes. Not only that, Cassandra is sure that when Mark grows up, he is probably going to be breaking a lot of hearts just by his looks. “Do you want me to drop you off at the daycare? It’s almost about time to pick Mark up, right?” Cassandra glances at her watch and you nod your head, pulling away from Cassandra.

Moving had taken almost half of the day and you have yet to unpack any boxes so you are probably going to have to try and get those done after Mark’s done at the daycare. You tried your hardest to shove all the unwanted and unpleasant memories that Cassandra’s question brought and give her a wary smile. “Yes, please.” You murmur. “Thank you so much for this, Cass.” You give her another quick hug, one that Cassandra returned tightly.

Cassandra smiles warmly at you when she pulls back. “That’s what friends are for, Y/N. Besides you have done so much for me too…” She trails off, shaking her head, not wanting to open another can of worms. “Let’s get Mark then.”

A knock resounds throughout the office, snapping Jason out of his train of thoughts. He looks at the door and a moment later, his personal assistant, Kori, pokes her head in. “Mr. Jason, your brother is on line one for you.” She informs him and Jason takes that chance to look at his own telephone that is currently blinking.

“Which brother?”

Kori smiles. “Mr. Richard.”

Jason rolls his eyes at the smile on Kori’s face before nodding his head, dismissing Kori as he reaches for the phone. “What’s up, Dick?”

“You neglected to pick up two of my calls causing me to have to call your office line and you have the decency to greet me with a what’s up, Dick?” Dick grumbles into the receiver and Jason chuckles, opening his drawer. He takes out his mobile phone and true to Dick’s words, there are two missed calls displayed on the screen. He drops the phone on top of the reports he had been reading.

“I had a lot of work today.” Jason points out. He normally keeps his phone away whenever he is in the office, opting for less distractions and unfortunately for Dick, this morning he had a bunch of papers to go through and meetings to sit through. “You have a reason for calling me other than being smart?”

Dick chortles. “There really is no winning with you, Jay.” Jason doesn’t need to be in front of Dick to know that his older brother had rolled his eyes when he said those words. So Jason hums instead, spinning a random pen on his fingers. “I need you to come up here for the ceremony and the official opening.”

Jason frowns. Going back to Gotham? “Must I really?” If it is up to him, Jason would rather not set his feet in Gotham ever again. “I thought we agreed for you to be the face - there is a reason why you are the brawn and I am the brains.” Jason takes a jab, causing Dick to laugh.

“Some things are really out of my control, Jay. I tried though but I really have no idea who tipped them of but because of that, it’s getting rather vicious around here so please be careful and try not to get in to too many scandals.” Dicks sighs despondently and Jason nods his head even if he is aware that Dick will not be able to see it. “Just come to Gotham. We all miss you, you know.”

Jason tries to recall the last time he had gone back for a visit and can’t seem to recall a time at all. The two of them exchanged a few more words after that: “Damian’s got another pet this time”, “But he already has a lot”, “He wants to open a shelter he says”, “Tim is annoyed by how Damian is starting to become taller than him”, “His happiness is short-lived”, “Tim decided to go on a milk-drinking binge”, “The poor boy”.

Jason sighs as he turns his chair to look out of the window. The conversation he had with Dick got him thinking. Going back to Gotham means facing his fears, facing the object of both his dream and his nightmare. Going back to Gotham almost means that there is a high chance that he might bump in to you and he really is not sure if he is ready to see you - if he wants to see you. A scowl appears on his handsome face as he turns around to face his table and he rings Kori.

“Yes, Mr. Jason?” Kori steps in the room.

Jason looks at his personal assistant - out of all the assistants he has had, Kori is definitely the one he likes the most, mostly because she would not stand for his bullshit at all and he swallows the sigh that is about to leave, hoping he will not regret this decision he is about to make. “Cancel the remaining meetings - postpone them, move them - do whatever. I am going to be taking two weeks off effective immediately.” He informs Kori who is staring at him in shock.

For as long as Kori has been working, she knows that he has never taken a day off from work ever and Kori has worked for him for about four years now.

“It’s not what you are thinking, if at all,” Jason assures her. “I have been called to Gotham - that was why my brother called - so I am going to need those two weeks off. I haven’t been home in a long time too.” But even as he said that, a tiny voice at the back of his mind spoke up, “you went to Gotham five years ago, Jason. Remember those two nights?” - and he immediately pushes those thoughts away, keeping them locked at the very back of his mind.

Kori finally smiles at him. “Alright, I will postpone the rest of your meetings and will reschedule everything else accordingly. Two weeks off right?” Kori knows she is going to have a lot of trouble when talking to his clients later but Jason wants what he wants so Kori will definitely have to make sure he gets what he wants.

Jason dismisses Kori once she is done with repeating the orders he had given - he told her to take the rest of the day off too seeing as Jason is going to go back to his apartment soon to pack his clothes - and he wonders how much Gotham has changed and as much as he tried to keep his mind off of you, he really couldn’t help himself.

He wonders just how you are currently doing right now.

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bewitching-elizabeth-olsen · 6 years

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Press: An Emotional ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ Finale Sees Leigh Facing Her Fears

COLLIDER – Once you get past the fact that one of the best shows of the year is on Facebook — yes Facebook! — you’ll know that Sorry for Your Loss is indeed worth it. The series follows Leigh Shaw (Elizabeth Olsen), whose husband Matt (Mamoudou Athie) died suddenly three months before we meet her. The first season chronicles the following two months over ten half-hour episodes, as Leigh is still coming to terms with her life without Matt. But from the onset, Sorry for Your Loss is at heart a family drama that includes Leigh’s adopted sister Jules (Kelly Marie Tran), a recovering alcoholic, and their mother Amy (Janet McTeer), who owns a fitness studio where both her daughters work. The series also tracks Leigh’s complicated relationship with Matt’s brother Danny (Jovan Adepo), the only person who really understands the depth of her loss, and her friendships that have suffered in the wake of such a devastating event. It’s a beautiful series that never gets too dark, and yet it doesn’t shy away from frank and difficult discussions about relationships, depression, and grappling with death.

Towards the end of the final episode of the season, Amy tells Jules and Leigh how Leigh used to ask why the characters in fairy tales always went to the woods, where the bad things were. As Amy explains, it’s because you have to go to the woods — that is, the source of fear — to find out who you truly are and where you are heading. It’s an important moment for the Shaw family as each of the women comes to terms with something dark and hidden in their own lives. Jules seems on the brink of relapsing, until Sabrina brings up her unresolved issues about her adoption as a potential flashpoint for her addiction. For Amy, it’s about reconsidering her relationship with ex-husband Richard, who is making overtures after over two decades of separation.

But of course the deepest well of fear lies within Leigh, who has found out Matt’s secret — his comic book was going to be published. And she wants it to be, for herself, despite Danny’s protestations that it might not be what Matt wanted. The show gave viewers the opportunity to see things from both perspectives as well during those final days of Matt’s life. He got the good news but didn’t share it. And then, suddenly, he died, which Danny still believes was intentional. But for Leigh, answering that question is not the point anymore. Whether Matt killed himself or it was an accident, it doesn’t define who he was to them. That’s been a long road for Leigh, who wondered if she really made Matt happy (Danny assures her she did), and worried that she didn’t know him well enough to see the signs of him possibly being suicidal. She tells Danny, after they see the psychic (a line the show toed very well), that whether it was an accident or mental illness, it wasn’t the Matt they knew and loved who chose to go off that cliff.

It was the penultimate episode in Palm Springs, though, that really seemed to set the stage for the series moving forward, as Leigh went on a romantic getaway by herself to the hotel Matt had secretly booked for them. There she met a sweet man, Tripp, who she sleeps with. But she’s clearly not ready for it to be anything more, and daydreams about what it would have been like to have gone with Matt. Leigh let down a physical barrier, not an emotional one, and yet it was still an act of moving forward. As “Jackie O” in her group therapy confirms, there’s no event in their lives now that isn’t going to carry the memory of their lost loved one, and yet, you still have to move on.

In that way, Sorry for Your Loss’ first season has been one long meditation on that idea. It’s been about Leigh finding her way forward, not existing just to feel grief every moment of her day, because she can’t (and no one can) survive that. She pushed her own boundaries with her impromptu birthday party, and struggled to keep it together at her friend’s wedding. But in other ways she’s been extremely hesitant to move forward, searching constantly in Matt’s past (through his phone, through conversations with his mother and Danny about his childhood) to find where things went wrong. That’s completely natural, and one of the things that has made this series so excellent — it feels real. The conversations and the struggles are all familiar, even though Leigh does live in a particularly cushy world otherwise (we see her go to work a few times at the start of the series, but increasingly, the show just became about her beautifully floating from one event to another. To its credit, though, we do see Jules and Amy at the studio quite a bit!)

That thread of moving forward and moving on is something that was also central to Jules and Amy’s stories, which wrapped up nicely or (if the series returns, and it should) set up new explorations for Season 2. Danny’s trajectory this season has been less certain, though. While Sorry for Your Loss has done a beautiful job of keeping Matt central to the storyline (so much that he is a genuine character on the show, not just a ghost), it still doesn’t feel like we know Danny all that well, what he likes or who he is outside of Matt. His relationship with Leigh has been an important one, but him leaving a message on Matt’s phone about how he’s falling in love with Leigh (when he knows, presumably, is listening to the messages — and by the way, is Leigh still paying for Matt’s cell phone plan?) felt a little bit like a misfire. The earlier scene of Leigh thinking back specifically about him touching her face felt more in line with the show’s excellent nuance, but Danny’s declaration needed a lot more unpacking. But, perhaps that’s what Season 2 is for.

Matt’s comic being published (hopefully) feels like the moment that starts a new chapter for Leigh, with her seeing his work live on beyond him. It’s a reflection of what she knows — that he still lives on within her. And for the first time, she had a memory of Matt that made her laugh, remembering a dumb joke he told her when they first met. Though she is still flooded with difficult memories that make her tear up, rightfully, in that moment it seemed possible for her to remember Matt with happiness. And that’s important. It’s what leads her to her woods, essentially, as she hiked the trail where Matt died, going to the overlook where he slipped or leapt. She can’t know, but those tears and her smile shows that that’s ok. Matt has gone, but she’s alive. Now it’s time to find out what that means.

Press: An Emotional ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ Finale Sees Leigh Facing Her Fears was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

#SPOILERS #Elizabeth Olsen #Avengers #Scarlet Witch #Avengers Infinity War #Avengers Age of Ultron #Captain America Civil War #Kodachrome #Ingrid Goes West #Godzilla #Sorry For Your loss

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dustedmagazine · 7 years

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Listening Post, March 2017

It’s been a while since the Dusted staff has gone over the things we’ve been listening to (besides what we’re reviewing) of course, and a (relatively) new year and some new faces seemed like as good an occasion as any. Some witchcraft-based Liars reminiscing starts us off for a conversation that covers everything from the powerful emotions of the new Mount Eerie to a percussion record you can’t get digitally to the blues, and much, much more...

Ian Mathers

I guess one of the things about getting older as a music fan is that there's more chances with every year and every crop of new acts/albums to have a band you love but haven't played or thought about in a while pop into your head apropos of basically nothing. I still remember being back home some holiday weekend in my first year of university, idly flipping on MuchMusic, and seeing Ladytron's video for "Playgirl". It was shockingly out of step with what people were doing in 2001 (or at least what I was paying attention to), and I simultaneously loved it and felt vaguely marginal for doing so. Remembering "Playgirl" had me going back to their old albums, and slightly to my surprise I found that while I love them all (including 604, the most overtly throwback-y) the one that's aged the best is actually their slightly atypical synthpop/shoegaze (synthgaze? shoepop?) Witching Hour, from 2005.

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My wife saw The Witch (or, I guess, The VVitch) when it played as part of the Toronto International Film Festival two years ago, and had been after me to watch it with her ever since, but I only felt in the right mood for it recently. Sure enough I loved it, but while I did think the score/sound design were great, ultimately it mostly had me reaching for my favourite Liars album (and, I suspect more and more, one of my favourite albums full stop), They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. It is, uh, not an optimistic record when it comes to human nature, politics, empathy, xenophobia, etc. I wish this didn't feel like such an apposite historical moment to brace ourselves and remember that sometimes there's just no avoiding the steamroller (cf. "Hold Hands and it Will Happen Anyways”). That the album tries anyways, if for nothing else than at least to leave a record of the injustice, feels important.

Damien Jurado, who has some fans here at Dusted, is a guy who's work I always respect but oddly enough generally can't get into that much; the exception is his 2006 album And Now That I'm in Your Shadow. I found myself listening to it late one night recently, which really is the perfect time for the record. I'd hesitate to call it a narrative, let alone anything like a concept album, but conceptually and emotionally it feels very much of a piece; whether or not these are the same people or even the same places the songs are suffused with desolation, infidelity, murder, loneliness. I've given his more recent work a listen or two and it's always been good but I think it's that for me And Now That I'm in Your Shadow is so singular in effect that Jurado's other work in the Catch 22 of me wanting it both to be exactly the same and somehow not just a retread. I do like one earlier (and creepier) song I heard somewhere, "Amateur Night", so maybe I should just find the album that's on and go from there. But maybe someone here has guidance for me.

Jennifer Kelly

Oh, Ian, you have just brought up two bands I LOVE, and, god dammit, we like different albums.

Per Liars, I am a dyed-in-the-wood They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top fan. It was my gateway, for one thing, to ESG. I am also partial to a split they did early on with Oneida, one of those you-cover-mine-and-I'll-cover-yours deals, so here they are revisiting "Rose and Licorice."

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One of the top live experiences of my entire life was a show with Yeah Yeah Yeahs opening (after the first EP, before the first album), Liars (just off Trench) and Sonic Youth (I'm thinking maybe Murray Street?), where I just kept saying, this cannot get any better, the next band will be a let-down, and then the next band ratcheted it up and obliterated everything before it.

I also like that Jurado album, which was, I believe, the last one before he hooked up with Richard Swift and went less acoustic folk, more psychedelic, but my favorite ever of his is Mariqopa. I feel like he kinda flattened out the mythology by explaining it (circa Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Sun), but in this album it's just sort of luminously, weirdly there, like a spaceship in the middle of a cornfield. You have no idea what it's about, and that makes it about everything.

Bill Meyer

I can't contribute much to discussion of the Liars or Jurado; neither exerts much attraction upon me. Two records that have ben drawing me back are Jon Mueller's DHRAANWDN (aka Hand Drawn) (Rhythmplex) and Eli Keszler's Last Signs Of Speed (Empty Edition). Both are limited edition double LPs by drummers, and both transcend whatever expectations you might have of a drummer's record. Beyond that they are very different. Mueller's comprises four sides of solo performance drawn from a six hour session he recorded in a Shaker meeting house. The drum kit plays the room's acoustics, resulting in waves of surging, polyrythmic sound. The sleeve, which varies a lot of white space with die-cut cut-outs that reveal a text about transformative experience and images of human-free environments, expresses the album's titular concept, as does the fact that you can only buy the physical object - there aren't even any digital promos.

Keszler's album, on the other hand, is a response to his performances over the past couple years at electronic music and dance venues. The extravagant bass presence counterbalances the precisely choreographed blizzard of discrete sounds that he generates with the rest of his kit, creating an impression of multi-dimensional space. Keszler creates a virtual space in part through physical effort, while Mueller inhabits a space that is physical but devoted to the spiritual. Both records are beyond solid.

Derek Taylor

I can’t really speak to any of Ian’s musical selections so I’ll speak to his filmic one instead. I too loved the The VVitch for its exacting verisimilitude and expertly wrought and rising dread. Lots of great themes to unpack therein and Robert Eggers decision to go all in on a “what if there was actual veracity to events presaging to the Salem hysteria” scenario is a bold one as is the “damned if they do, damned if they don’t” plot arc of the film. Great casting too and a hair-raisingly satisfying denouement in the primeval (or is that prime evil?) woods that still sticks with me.

As to listening it’s been the usual juggle of new releases with older favorites. On the former front there’s, Deuce, tenorist Stephen Riley’s latest duo with pianist Peter Zak. The pair has a previous encounter and two more with Zak as a member of Riley’s quartet. It’s the usual amalgam of ancient standards this time with three interstitial “Interludes” by Riley interspersed and a gorgeous rendering of Joe Henderson’s “Tetragon”. They also tackle my favorite standard “Everything Happens to Me”, Riley pulling apart and contorting the melody like fluffy cotton candy with his inimitable hardened-reed rasp and without losing sight of the gentle fatalism at the tune’s core.

In terms of classics, it’s been the series of bootlegs documenting the Charles Mingus Sextet/Quintet's 1964 American/European tour (Cornell, Town Hall, Amsterdam, Oslo, Stockholm, Copenhagen, Bremen, Paris x2, Wuppertal, and Stuttgart). Every date has its ample charms, but the Cornell University hit released on Blue Note back in ’07 is the one I go back to most frequently, both for the quality of the concert and its capture on tape. Trumpeter Johnny Coles had yet to fall ill and is featured splendidly alongside Eric Dolphy and Clifford Jordan and calling Jaki Byard and Dannie Richmond a rhythm section is like reductively referring to James Baldwin as an African American author, it barely scratches the surface.

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Bill Meyer: Peak Mingus!

Jennifer Kelly: Have any of you been listening to Mount Eerie's A Crow Looked at Me? So powerful, so beautiful, absolutely harrowing...but I can't imagine how you could possibly review it.

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Bill Meyer: I've never listened to Mount Eerie much, but this one is in my inbox and I didn't delete it because of the story attached to it. I think I need to check it out.

Ian Mathers: I need to get my hands on that Mount Eerie and listen, but I'll admit to being a bit daunted... my mother-in-law died in 2015 and it made (for example) the Sufjan Stevens album from last year a simultaneously important and really challenging listen. My wife is still dealing with a lot of the emotional fallout, and we are both Microphones fans from back in the day, so I might give it some solo listens first, so she has some idea of how tough it might be.

Jenny, I absolutely adore They Threw Us All in a Trench... too, I wish I'd had the chance to see them around then! I'm sure they're still good in concert, but there's something about that record that seems like it would be ferocious live. And your cornfield spaceship description honestly makes me really excited to check out Mariqopa—honestly the fact that Jurado did extend the mythology made me a bit wary, but as a standalone maybe I can approach it.

Bill, that Kezsler sample is pretty damn interesting.

Mason Jones

I'm a fan of Liars' They Threw Us... as well, and saw them around that time here in SF playing with Animal Collective if I recall correctly. They put on an entertaining show. That album and They Were Wrong... were both pretty powerful at the time, and then they lost steam somehow and became more predictable. Interestingly I thought their most recent album, Mess, was an improvement. Though slicker than it needed to be, there were good ideas percolating through it.

On the newer side, I've been surprised by how much I'm enjoying the newest Grails album, Chalice Hymnal. It's a pretty great combination of heaviness, stonedness, and kosmische rock. I also stumbled on the self-titled album by Helén, which is intriguing. Some is reminiscent of early Circle given the strong rhythmic foundation, but it gets into some rock-epic portions and, I don't know, prog-opera-something? Hard to describe and I haven't made up my mind whether it all works or not. But it's a worthy listen.

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Bill Meyer: All right, I'm going to check out Mount Eerie.

I'll mention one other thing I've been playing lately. Having spent a bit of time with the Bruce Langhorne tribute album The Hired Hands this past month and the excellent Robbie Basho tribute Basket Full Of Dragons last fall, I'm ready to turn down my disdain for tribute records - at least when they involve very strong acoustic musicians honoring a great guitar player. So I dug out the first Basho Tribute, We Are All One, In The Sun, which was released by Important Records in 2010. I've been playing it over and over. Like Dragons, it was assembled by Buck Curran , who sure knows how to pick people who know their Basho. It begins and ends with Steffen Basho-Junghans playing variations on a couple of his namesake's tunes on a 12-string, and his lyric extrapolations make me really wish he would put out another record and finally tour the USA. But that's not to slight the excellent contributions by Meg Baird, Helena Espvall, and several others.

Brett Marion

I was witness to that same fantastic Liars/Yeah Yeah Yeahs tour leg too, caught them upstairs at the Magic Stick in Detroit. I was pretty smitten with Karen O at the time—from the cover of that first ep, and the range of her vocals—sometimes country accent, sometimes speak-sing, sometimes fragile, like on that “Crimson & Clover”-esque last song, “Our Time,” and then how she impossibly strangles the title to “aaaaaaaarrrrrrt staaaaaarrrr.” And Liars’ Angus Andrews seemed like seven feet tall. He might be. Great stage presence, both bands—exuding lots of confidence and attitude—but naïve, friendly, and approachable. I liked Trench a lot but thought They Were Wrong, So We Drowned was even better—it just nailed an overall Halloween feel.

Lately, I’ve had a hard time digging too deep in any one direction. The last half year or so I’ve been doing okay keeping up with Stephan Mathieu’s ambitious 12 CD release, Radiance, issued one month at a time, I think he’s through about ten so far. The last two, To Have Elements Exist In Space and Feldman have been one-track near hour-long pieces, so I haven’t made it all the way through those yet. The newest Six Organs of Admittance, Taylor Deupree, and PAN label stuff have been on, but not absorbed entirely. I also find myself getting sidetracked with making compilations that I occasionally post on Mixcloud (sort of the whole ‘80s-‘90s ‘mixtape’ thingy I’m sure we’ve all done for people), my latest—not completed—mixes/drafts being a ‘beginner’s guide to Alice Coltrane’ and ‘GAS,’ but it’s always a long process and I only ever get around to completing one or two a year, tops.

Bill Meyer: What does Mathieu sound like these days? I'm a bit out of the loop, although I have enjoyed some of his records immensely in the past.

Brett Marion: He sounds quite a bit like he always has—that grainy, shifting textural drone. Some tracks hit where it hurts so good, while others… meh. The last few year’s it seems he’s been into exploring more long-form pieces. One release, Nachtstucke, from 2015, featured a one hour piece, a piece over two hours, then two more around the half an hour mark. I wonder how many have made it through that over two hour piece more than once.

Bill Meyer: Well, I did just buy an LP he made with Kassel Jaeger and Akira Rabelai, I'll see how that one goes. Can't get everything.

Matt Wuethrich

I assume you mean Zauberberg on Shelter Press, Bill? Excellent LP. It's very diffuse in structure but still feels like there's a lot to take in. It's kind of a marvel how they embed they approaches within each other and shapeshift through different sonic spaces (Mathieu's manipulations of mechanical/acoustic historical recordings, Jaeger's field recordings, Rabelai’s digital treatments).

In my own listening I've been pretty deep into the official reissue of Giusto Pio's Motore immobile on Soave, sublime minimalism from Italy that first probably appeared on most people's radar through Alan Licht's minimalism lists (specifically Minimalism Top Ten III). Just organ/piano, voice and violin. Rich and hypnotic.

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Bill Meyer: Yes, that's the one. I haven't scratched the surface but I am glad to hear that you find it deep. Gotta check out the Pio.

Justin Cober-Lake

I've been digging into a somewhat random cross-section of blues recently, connected to a project looking at possible points of connection between that genre and psalms of lamentation and maybe the book of Lamentations (though that may have a different focus). I don't have much to say on the subject yet, but I've been thinking about how the hill country artists really dig into an issue and stick there until it's worked out (or until the tape runs out or whatever). Charles Caldwell is the guy standing out to me right now, particularly his confused complaint on "Hadn't I Been Good to You." The Junior Kimbrough I grabbed this morning, All Night Long, was a sort of comical comparison, since it's largely a sex album.

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There's something about the groove that makes this connection more noticeable, though I'm not sure how much it will translate to trance-blues acts like Otis Taylor (or even R.L. Burnside) who often use repetition more to set up storytelling or to do other things.

Derek Taylor: That’s an area of music near & dear to me, Justin. I coincidentally spun that Caldwell album this weekend too after re-opening a rabbit hole with the George Mitchell Collection box set. Such a shame it was Caldwell's first & last. Kimbrough (and really nearly all of those hill country guys from Burnside on down to T Model Ford) had copulation on the brain much of the time and its more misogynistic manifestations ("You Better Run") more often that I'd like.

I remember catching Burnside prior to & during the self-parody phases of his career and being pretty demoralized by the latter seeing him run through the tropes (“Well, well, well…”), and take copious swigs off a decapitated kewpie doll filled to the severed neck w/ whiskey. T-Model Ford was like that too (“It’s Jack Daniel’s Time!!!”, apparently between EVERY song). Fat Possum did a lot of arguable good in getting those guys gigs/tours/etc., but they did a fair share of bad too in enabling/reinforcing a lot of their worst tendencies.

Guessing you‘re familiar w/ Mitchell & the box, but if not I can’t recommend it highly enough. Mitchell did work similar to the Lomaxes, but with a level of candor & self-awareness that they often lacked. The accompanying booklet is nearly as priceless as the music as it’s filled with anecdotes of Mitchell’s travels & encounters, often hilariously so. This missive about Big Joe Williams is one of my favorites as it really captures the essence of the guy: "At one point, we drove with him down to St. Louis to find Walter Davis and Henry Townsend. On the way down, Big Joe announced that he had to take a shit, and I told him we'd pull into the next service station. And he said, "No, I like country shits. Just pull over to the side of the road—I want to take me a good old country shit."

Matt Wuethrich: A big, big second on that George Mitchell set...it seems to be rather low profile considering the wealth of material on it. Every time I spin it I discover some new gem. (For five discs, it's relatively inexpensive, too.)

Jennifer Kelly: Anyone else (besides Bill Meyer, who’s reviewed it) into that new Tinariwen? And, quick question, if anyone has access to liners, is that Mark Lanegan?

Also really, really digging that the Bug Vs. Earth collaboration, so dark and clanky and post-atom-bomb-ish, exactly what I need at this point.

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Bill Meyer: That’s Lanegan.

Ian Mathers: I've heard you and others praise the Bug Vs. Earth album, Jenny, and honestly the two make for such weirdly fitting collaborators I'd want to check it out just based on the combination. "Dark and clanky and post-atom-bomb-ish" sounds about perfect for 2017. Would you mind uploading it to the drive at some point?

The blues are one of those genres where I know I like at least some of it, but something's kept me from going much deeper with it. My dad got the (de rigeur, I assume) Robert Johnson box set when I was a kid and I love a lot of that, and I've gotten the odd album or comp I've loved from Son House or Howlin' Wolf or Buddy Guy (in the latter case, specifically Sweet Tea) but that itch feels mostly scratched at this point?

Bill Meyer: I just listened to a bit of it, Ian. Yeah, it's dark and clanky all right. I think the sounds are cool, and I'm intrigued that the Bug has cottoned to Earth's restraint. I expected an attempt to lure Earth into less measured venting of darkness.

Derek Taylor: Guy’s Sweet Tea is a curious case as it involved him jumping on the Hill Country bandwagon w/ Kimbrough & Cedell Davis covers and a Fat Possum production facsimile. Some called it a crass cash-in, others a sincere stab at homage. I don’t go back to it often & when I do just in doses, but considering Guy’s place in the music I’m inclined to go with the latter take. Guy’s been a proponent of commercially viable blues since he got his start in Chicago with Muddy Waters, so it makes sense that he would be attracted the Fat Possum aesthetic at that time although the guys there have taken pains over the years to stress just how shakey that business paradigm is in the larger music business scheme.

Speaking of Davis, he’s definitely one to delve into especially the early material released on the L+R Living Country Blues USA series, half a cd, Highway 61, on the Wolf label, and his first for Fat Possum, Feel Like Doin’ Something Wrong. Utterly unique approach to slide guitar necessitated by partial paralysis from a youthful bout with polio. Some enterprising (if largely erroneous) journalist dubbed him the “Ornette Coleman of blues guitar”, if I recall correctly, for his ability to make familiar fascinatingly foreign through tonal plasticity. He’s apparently still kicking at 89 and put a record out last year. Some vintage footage:

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Ben Donnelly

Liars’ dedication to conceptual switcheroos shows the long-term hazards of being dedicated to approaching each album as a blank slate. My fatigue has generally increased each time I try out the latest Liars, to the point that I don't check their releases out right away. I'm sure I'm missing some gems in there, and suspect it will all make more sense in the future. The ramblings of The Fall and Wire fifteen years into their careers makes more sense now. That said, that first pivot between the on-trend disco punk to graveyard junkyard percussion was landmark, one of those moments where the leading edge re-shuffles the received history. The arc from 1981 Danceteria to No Wave to Einstruzende Neubauten is pretty direct, but by 2000, all I could see was that one end resulted in "Love Shack" and the other in post-rock. Liars sent out a big signal - they were looking at history differently, felt free to jump between the connections they saw, and their revision enlivened everything. The early single "You Know I Hate Stupid Phones" goes a lot of places in two minutes, one of those gems that gets lost in their constant shuffle:

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Ladytron I like even better. Artists who are so ready for Vogue Italia will always be held in suspicion in less fashionable quarters. I liken them to Siouxsie and the Banshees: art bands who are facile with hooks and glamour to the extent that it's easy to underestimate them. Approaching both, there's the temptation to put aside the style statements and the associations with lesser goth/electro acts and try take the brilliant singles and remixes as stand-alone artifacts. But that's a mistake—the mascara is as necessary as with Bowie and Prince. When they declared "they only want you when you're seventeen, when you're twenty one you're no fun" it's impossible to tell which side of the cynicism holds their sympathies. Probably both, which is why their best tracks frequently slap me like I haven't heard them a hundred times. This high concept obscurity, Missy Elliot rethought as Japanese synth-punk, still bewilders.

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Ian Mathers: Derek, that Cedell Davis video is damn good, I'll have to track down an album.

Ben, I can't believe I forgot to mention Ladytron's "Oops" cover—literally one of one my favourite covers ever, and one where I love both it and the original about equally in a way that means I don't even know which one I'd pick if forced to (and also, incidentally, the place where Ladytron got closest to Add N to (X), if anyone remembers them). That early Liars track, though, I'd somehow never heard. I really, really love the bass sound on their early records.

Derek Taylor: Tenorist Fred Anderson’s birthday yesterday (he would’ve been 88) sparked a shelf perusal of his work. The flurry of activity in his final years leaves a pretty respectable discography. I opted for Black Horn Long Gone on Southport, a ’90 studio trio session in Chicago with Malachi Favors and the erstwhile AJ Shelton released in ’09. It’s a loose & limber date with Favors negotiating Fred’s singular horn vernacular in a sometimes akimbo manner that takes a bit of getting used to. Shelton, operating under his woke moniker Ajaramu, isn’t always entirely on the same page either, but occasional surface discombobulations don’t detract in the least from the deep reservoir of feeling feeding the music. The solo “Ode to Clifford Jordan” is the rare chance on record to hear Fred in that format for the duration of a piece.

Time spent with Anderson usually means revisiting the other two Freds that comprise my Fred triumvirate, McDowell & Wesley. Currently ears-deep in the Arhoolie collection Good Morning Little School Girl which cherry-picks from McDowell’s Janus-worthy repertoire of blues and spirituals. His wife Annie Mae & a small contingent from their Como, MS congregation join him on a couple of the latter.

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nataliecrown · 7 years

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4x03 - The Four Horsemen (The 100)

So, my thoughts on 4x03 are coming without a rewatch and in a much broader fashion. I simply don't have time to do my usual this week. This post covers Polis and Arkadia. I'll cover Bellarke separately. Onwards! POLIS - One of the coolest things about this episode was that I suddenly realised there were ten minutes left and that we hadn't seen bellarke. Cool why? Because I was enjoying myself so much that I didn't notice. - That isn't to say that the Polis portion of the episode was perfect so I'll launch in with my nitpicks. - The Polis throne room is a goddamn curse. I cannot wait for that damn tower to be wiped out of existence. Lexa was a lesser character when confined to Polis. Clarke was a lesser character there. And now Roan is. I already can't wait for him to either say fuck it, or be overthrown so he can actually start being an active character. It's like the throne room induces passivity. And also... - STUPIDITY. I hate it when writers make a character stupid to suit their plot. If the Flame is so important to maintaining Roans control, he should have it with him at all times. How did Gaia steal it? And even if it wasn't on him, surely it was up at the top of the tower SURROUNDED BY GUARDS? - HOW DID GAIA STEAL IT? - Stupid. - My final nitpick is Octavia's new nickname! Ever read the Throne of Glass books? One of my greatest frustrations reading those books (even when I loved the series) was the idea that Celeana was both the best assassin ever and also super famous. THAT MAKES NO SENSE. If you're a brilliant assassin NOBODY SHOULD KNOW. If people are calling Octavia death from above or whatever, that means she's a god awful assassin (which, in terms of realism re. time spent training WOULD be more realistic) and that's clearly not what the writers are going for. - On to the good, and there was plenty! Like, ALL of the Octavia ships. Niytavia for life, but it's pretty clear that Octillian is coming and I'm here for it. Also super down with Roctavia. ALL OF THE SHIPS. - GAIA WAS WONDERFUL. I wasn't shocked by the Indra reveal but I was VERY HAPPY BOUT IT. I can't wait to unpack more from these two characters and their relationship. And I'm really glad to see religion being brought into the season. There is so much material left to cover in that regard. I'm intrigued to see how the religion/tech destroyers arcs will continue to merge. - I will freely admit that I believed they had smashed the chip. Was kinda disappointed when I realised. - I LOVE THE WAY THEY HANDLED GAIA AND OCTAVIA. The fact that they ended the episode being all smiley and cute with each other is wonderful. The temptation would be to have them hate each other out of jealousy in regards to their relationships with Indra. But it was just love! So much love! - I love Octavia's devotion to Indra. It was nice to see the softer side of O again this week. A bit like it was a relief to see that she is still 'with' her people in 4x01. I'm sure her choice will backfire at some point, as all choices on this show do, but I'm glad she made it. - Family. Octavia had to be thinking of Bellamy in that scene. I don't know what the Blakes are building to this season, but I think it's good that they are apart (till next week?) and I'm looking forward to seeing where they end up. ARKADIA - I LOVE what they did with Raven in this episode. Even in the Bravenlarke scenes, the framing isolated her. Bellarke together, Raven apart. And the working alone, visually hiding behind a visor and noise as she works. Raven has always responded to pressure and fear with a spark and a bite. That is magnified here x 100000 because the weight of the literal world is on her shoulders. - The scene with Abby is gut wrenching. Partly because I love their relationship so much, and also because they are both right! The situation sucks. Ultimately, Raven is proven most right when the drugs don't work but she's not happy about it. Lindsey knocks it out of the park as Raven watches the little girl die. Many thousands more face the same fate, and Raven might be one that condemns them. Heavy lies the crown indeed. - it's a small moment but I think it's important to note that Raven is still there in medical when Clarke comes in at the episode. She's chosen to stay with the dying, with Abby, not to bury herself back in work. I suspect 4x03 was the start of a turn for Raven. - Let's talk about Murphy! And as I'm talking about Raven...LETS TALK ABOUT THAT SCENE. I have longed for this day folk. Murphy shot her! Murphy caused Ravens disability, her chronic pain! And now Memori are coming back to Arkadia and they are going to interact with Raven next week? I CANNOT FUCKING WAIT. Will Emori be shocked to learn more about his past? Will Emori and Raven clash? IDK BUT I CANT WAIT - Abby and Murphy were fucking everything. I refuse to believe that Murphy stole those drugs to get on Abby's good side. It was a split second decision imo and he only started thinking about it properly when he was in medical. Don't get me wrong, Murphy will do what is best for him and Emori. But I wouldn't be surprised if he enters full hero mode by the end of the season. And I am SO HERE for Abby being everyone's mum! SO HERE FOR IT. - Memori continue to be super cute. I'm glad the Ontari rape was referenced, though I could have done without Emori being jealous. Mostly I'm just so relieved that they are going to fully join the squad. New Emori dynamics. GIMME. Also, Richard hugs good. - Luna! Nyko! So the Nightblood thing is really echoing Mt Weather, right? I LOVE THIS SHOW AND ITS MORAL COMPLEXITY. I'm sure Luna will be a willing lab rat for a little while, but if this gets out and everyone is literally out for Luna's blood...yiiiiikes. - Hi Jackson, I love you! - PAPA MILLER. Yay! And duuuuudes, Murphy taunts Miller about Bryan and Papa steps in. That's the second time this season that a parent has stood up for their LGBT+ child and it's important. Also still sowing the seeds of that Briller break up. I feel like I've missed a million things...so feel free to ask if I have not expressed an opinion on something important. I actually have time today! (Typing on shit phone so excuse typos)

#the 100 #the 100 recap #the 100 season 4

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ubourgeois · 7 years

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Best Films of 2016

It’s finally done, whew

30. Moana (Ron Clements & John Musker) - The best so far of this generation of Disney musicals, benefits a lot from its stripped-down narrative. Great songs.

29. Fences (Denzel Washington) - Far too literal of a stage adaptation, but the source material is strong enough to translate, and the ensemble's as good as any other this year.

28. Mountains May Depart (Jia Zhangke) - Third act flies way off the rails, but it's forgivable in a movie that made so many other ballsy structural decisions. First two acts are top notch, too.

27. Knight of Cups (Terrence Malick) - Slides even further down the Malick-hole, for better or worse. This means a sharp drop in narrative clarity but a rise in visual splendor. Worth it.

26. The Lobster (Yorgos Lanthimos) - Yorgos Lanthimos continues to justify his artistic career by making movies that only he would ever make. Style translates surprisingly well in English.

25. Sing Street (John Carney) - Super cute little film. The original songs are both believably corny and actually fun. Makes a lot out of a fairly thin and tired premise.

24. Everybody Wants Some!! (Richard Linklater) - Not quite the successor to Dazed and Confused it was supposed to be, but it's remarkable that Linklater crafted something so sensitive and pure out of what is basically a bro party movie.

23. Aquarius (Kleber Mendonça Filho) - A kind of bloated but never boring political allegory. Lives and dies (but mostly lives) by Sonia Braga's incredible performance.

22. Elle (Paul Verhoeven) - Like the above, rests squarely on Isabelle Huppert's superhumanly capable shoulders. Verhoeven approaches his previous heights of provocation, as well.

21. Loving (Jeff Nichols) - A sweeter, more uplifting story than I thought Nichols had in him. Both very emotional and restrained, giving its subject the dignity it deserves.

20. Hail, Caesar! (Joel Coen & Ethan Coen) - The funniest Coen film in a while, with a lot of inspired sequences. What it lacks in focus it more than makes up for in razzle-dazzle.

19. Your Name (Makoto Shinkai) - I still doubt that Makoto Shinkai deserves the "Next Miyazaki" title people love to give him, but this is at least some compelling evidence to that claim. The best movie I've seen with the Freaky Friday setup.

18. The Fits (Anna Rose Holmer) - A bizarre and transfixing little movie with a great sense of kinetics. Makes me really eager to know if Royalty Hightower continues acting - she's film-justifying here.

17. Love & Friendship (Whit Stillman) - Do you want to like Jane Austen films, but wish they were less stodgy and faithful and more fun and loose? This is your movie.

16. The Wailing (Na Hong-jin) - Best horror movie of the year. Thoroughly lulls you into a false sense of security before delivering one of the most harrowing finales in years.

15. Midnight Special (Jeff Nichols) - Preempted Stranger Things' 80s scifi nostalgia and superpowered god-children, but wrapped them in a very different, more down-to-earth skin.

14. La La Land (Damien Chazelle) - Yeah, overrated, but there weren't many movies more fun or with a more charming leading pair this year. Knows what it wants to do and does the shit out of it.

13. Cemetery of Splendour (Apichatpong Weerasethakul) - It turns out if you wanna make a scene of a person sleeping interesting, you just need to add ambient noise and soothing colors. The rest of the movie's good too, but that sequence is a career highlight for Weerasethakul.

12. Aferim! (Radu Jude) - Remember when Quentin Tarantino tried to make a funny transplanted Western about the horrors of slavery and the absurdity of racism? This movie is what he failed to make, but in Romania.

11. Sunset Song (Terence Davies) - I struggle to connect with Davies films more often than not, but this is the single most visually stunning and inventive film of the year. Melodrama always works best when it looks dazzling.

10. Toni Erdmann (Maren Ade) - Even after seeing it, it's hard to describe what's so compelling about Toni Erdmann, or how it pulls of its bizarre premise as well as it does, but there's almost nothing this year that can compare to its final climactic scenes. Truly eludes description.

09. Paterson (Jim Jarmusch) - Gentle and meandering even by Jarmusch's standards, but makes even its remarkably low-stakes drama compelling. A neat little film on the value of routine and the beauty of the everyday - a cliche that Paterson is so committed to that it brings new life to the idea.

08. The Red Turtle (Michaël Dudok de Wit) - The most beautifully animated film I've seen in a couple years, despite its very basic characters and setting. If its plot is a little bare-bones, that's just so there's nothing to distract us from the amazing colors and movement on screen.

07. Embrace of the Serpent (Ciro Guerra) - Powerful as anticolonial commentary, as psychedelic cinema, as pseudo-ethnography, as coming-of-age story, as Amazonian landscape showcase... There really is a lot to unpack here.

06. Arrival (Denis Villeneuve) - Has a specificity of concept (linguist tries to understand cryptic aliens) that much of the best science fiction has, and incorporates that concept in genuinely creative and illuminating ways. Some may find the "answer" of the film cheesy or contrived, but it works hard enough that it deserves its leap of faith.

05. Moonlight (Barry Jenkins) - What is there left to be said? It's great, all the performers are wonderful, the cinematography is unique and inventive, it has important subject matter, etc etc etc. It lives up to the hype. Let the critics have their darling.

04. Silence (Martin Scorsese) - A film that contends with the struggles of faith with a great deal of honesty and wisdom. Doesn't offer easy, or even strictly coherent answers where they don't exist. Cements Scorsese as the spiritual filmmaker he's always been. Also, Issey Ogata is great.

03. Manchester By the Sea (Kenneth Lonergan) - An uncompromising film about grief, and how sometimes there's no recovering from it, that manages to have a sense of humor all the same - and not in the cheap way, either. The movie ends with, broadly, an admission that closure may not be possible, but specifically with a glib, self-deprecating joke. That kind of works as the whole film in microcosm.

02. The Handmaiden (Park Chan-wook) - There was not a single more wild film you could have seen in the theaters in the past year. Yes, it's hideously over the top, unrepentantly pulpy, and occasionally even a bit in poor taste, but that's the kind of game Park plays at his best - and he hasn't been in form this good since Oldboy.

01. Certain Women (Kelly Reichardt) - A really lovely collection of three short story adaptations about, well, some women. It's incredibly compassionate towards its characters and makes the best use of its beautiful Montana setting. It's difficult to describe its strengths in short - the three sections are all rather different - but suffice it to say that it does remarkably well with adapting the feel of a good short story and that no other film was as successfully itself in 2016.

#film #best of 2016 #best films of 2016

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