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britesparc · 8 months

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Weekend Top Ten #604

Top Ten Ghosts from Ghosts

This week sees the final series of the superlative Ghosts, and that’s a sentence with more alliteration than I’d expected when it began. It kind of got away from me a little bit there, but I shall attempt to wrangle the wrest of my writing into order.

Or something.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Ghosts. It’s pretty great. It’s a typical British comedy about people trapped in a situation they can’t escape and forced to share their lives with other people they would ordinarily avoid, and end up developing into a loving surrogate family over time, but without any of the wishy-washy stuff an American version of the sitcom would probably force onto the plot. Where Ghosts excels is in both its writing and its performances; it’s genuinely hilarious, which is nice, but the cast are also gifted actors capable of bringing out the warmth and humanity even in the dodgiest or flimsiest of characters. Plus it makes the most of its setting, giving us classic horror tropes and – emerging by degrees – its own brand of supernatural lore, with the ghosts all longing to be “sucked off”.

And now the end is near, and I can’t help but feel there’s going to be something really heartbreaking about it. I think it will feel like one last goodbye to old friends. Although I kinda thought that about Guardians 3 and James Gunn basically decided “everybody lives” and gave all the Guardians their own happy ending (which isn’t the same as being sucked off).

So to celebrate this momentous occasion – and because it’s a great way to kick off the spooky season – I’m now going to rank my favourite spooks in a sitcom; my favourite poltergeists in a programme; my favourite ghosts in Ghosts. Good, eh?

Julian (Simon Farnaby): it’d be very easy for Julian to be a one-note joke; a lecherous and corrupt Tory MP who died in a sex scandal and has to spend the afterlife with no trousers. But Julian is allowed all kinds of subtleties and nuances; despite his multiple vices, his care for his fellow ghosts (and living humans) frequently bubbles up, as does an occasional bubble of regret over his life choices. It’s a really slow-burn, empathetic development of character, as Julian is really still rather reprehensible; but we love him and want him to succeed. And that one-note joke is just persistently funny.

Robin (Laurence Rickard): a caveman whose guttural pidgin utterances can be the source of great amusement; as can the contrast between his prehistoric values (he appears to have married his sister) and the present day. But again it’s a character full of nuance; he’s much smarter and more sensitive than he first appears. And he’s really funny, with a terrific makeup job.

Pat (Jim Howlick): an over-earnest Scouts leader with an arrow through his neck, my love for Pat isn’t really based on nuanced empathy or slowly unpeeling layers of development; he’s pretty much all there day one. But he’s so damn funny, a tour-de-force from Howlick as this organisational nerd, a nice guy determined to keep everyone happy. Probably has the funniest death scene. “You don’t want to see this in your dreams.”

The Captain (Ben Willbond): an uptight, overwound British officer, all stiff upper lift and starched sheets, with an almost Melchett-level Tasche. There’s a lot of fun and nuance right there, but it’s the Captain’s closeted nature that elevates him even higher; the tragedy of his repressed life and the double tragedy that now, about eighty years after he died, he still can’t be honest about himself. Yes, it’s sad, but it’s an informed and beautiful sadness that has something to say. And sometimes it’s really funny too.

Kitty (Lolly Adefope): I could talk again about how Kitty has shades and subtleties that are slowly teased by the writing and performance as the show has developed, but really Kitty’s here because Adefope is damn funny. An almost stupidly naïve character, fantastically childlike, an innocent soul in search of a sister. She’s just great.

Fanny (Martha Howe-Douglas): from comically naïve to comically repressed, Fanny is a puritanical matriarch for whom nothing is good enough and everything is filthy. Of course, this is all mask and projection, and like most of the ghosts here she had a rather tragic life that shaped her death. It’s this juxtaposition between the passions that enflame her (she fancies Kiell Smith-Bynoe’s Mike) and her snotty demeanour that brings the funny. Plus it’s a simply transformative performance.

Mary (Katy Wix): Mary is far more down-to-earth, from her broken malapropism-riddled Black Country dialogue to her matter-of-fact allusions to the more red-blooded facts of medieval life. His sets her apart from a lot of the more repressed characters, and her misunderstandings and failures to grasp modern concepts are also really funny. She also has the terrific hook of having been burnt at the stake.

Thomas (Mathew Baynton): surprisingly low down really, for such a great character and performance. Vainglorious lovesick poet Thomas wanted to be Byron but was shot down (literally) in his prime. His flowery dialogue, his inappropriate pining for Charlotte Ritchie’s Alison, and the frequent gulfs between his ideals and aspirations and the harsh reality of his life and death are all sources of great humour.

Sir Humphrey (Laurence Rickard): a more minor character than others, but a great one. Again it’s basically one gag writ large, as Humphrey had his head cut off and so his ghost is likewise decapitated; his body frequently losing his noggin (or vice versa, I suppose). Humphrey’s head’s grumpy but resigned demeanour when faced with always getting misplaced or lost or put down in the wrong place is priceless. Also: props to Rickard for two great roles here.

The Plague Victims: pretty much all the cast return as the ghosts of an entire village laid low by the plague, destined to spend eternity stuck in a cellar together. That’s all nice and hilarious of course, but the way they’ve become experts on their tiny world (teaching Alison and Mike how to repair the boiler) and their various interactions with the ghosts on the floors above are doubly, triply terrific.

#top ten #ghosts #bbc #tv #sitcom #bbc ghosts

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ijustwant2write · 3 years

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Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking.

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying.

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs.

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed.

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared.

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired?

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor.

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away.

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.”

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.”

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne.

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced.

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fan fiction #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fan fic #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton one shot #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fan fiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fan fic

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soveryanon · 5 years

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Reviewing time for MAG124 /o/

- There was a delicious echo between this statement and MAG021, in the sense that it had been the first statement involving Simon Fairchild (The Vast! ~Distance~!), with its follow-up interrupted because of… Martin popping up:

(MAG021) ARCHIVIST: […] It might just be a coincidence, but I recall the name “Simon Fairchild” was one of the ones used by– [DOOR OPENS, CHAIR TUMBLES] My god! Martin?! [SOMETHING SQUELCHES] What… What the hell is–? What are these things?! [CLICK.]

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: […] Still no sign of Peter Lukas of course, or Mar– [STATIC] Wait– Wait. [CHAIR SCRAPING] [OPENS DOOR, FAR:] Martin! Martin!

From Martin coming back from his two weeks-long Prentiss siege (where~ he was~ all alone~ and nobody~ had checked~ on him~~~) and forcing himself into Jon’s office, to Jon running out of his own office to finally see Martin again after a week of being back to work (following his six months “coma”). It just… installed, right away, the shift between then and now? It hurts thx I hate it ♥

- *OBLIGATORY LOUD SHRIEKING* since in MAG120:

(MAG120) MARTIN: W… what… What are you doing here, mister Lukas? PETER: Please, call me Peter. MARTIN: N–no. No, I think I’m okay. PETER: As you like. […]

And now:

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: Wh–where have you been, I–I mean, I–I–I thought– MARTIN: N–no, no, I’ve… I’ve been here, I just, er… Y’know. Been busy. ARCHIVIST: Busy. MARTIN: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: … Right. Working for Lukas. MARTIN: N–no, Pe–Peter’s… eh. It’s complicated. ARCHIVIST: … Right.

1°) *weeps loudly* Martin, what the heck happened for you to get on first name basis with “Peter”, now… (Answer: “Relationship Status: It’s Complicated”.) 2°) By contrast, I don’t think we've ever heard Jon ooze quite so much disrespect towards someone. I mean, calling Peter by his last name like this? Jon? Jon??? Even in the previous episode, he was still using first+last names (MAG123: “Working for Peter Lukas.” and it was exactly the same phrasing!!), he tends to use honorifics or mention people through first+last names or first name only, even for monsters… So by contrast, this makes it sound like he’s Out For Blood. Someone is reaaaally not enjoying the idea of Martin working for someone else, uh. 3°) … Martin literally denied working for “Lukas”…?? Is it a matter of “this is not what he’s doing right now”, is it a matter of Martin actually doing something for the Institute/something that is technically not Lukas-related, is it a matter of making a distinction between “Peter” / “Lukas”, is it a matter of a third party being involved? Or… Well. I have Questions And Ponderings about where Martin is (presumably in the Lonely dimension?) and what control he has over his comings and goings… but I also do wonder, since Martin slipped and almost said something when Jon spat Peter’s name, while Martin had been apparently very cautious not to tell Jon anything about his current whereabouts all through the exchange… what if. actually. Peter was there in the room right now and Martin knew it? MAG120 had demonstrated that characters not seeing Peter doesn't indicate that he isn’t actually witnessing events himself, since… he knew how Elias had behaved before revealing himself to Martin:

(MAG120) ELIAS: G– goodbye, Martin. Be seeing you. [DOOR CLOSES] [SILENCE] MARTIN: [LONG EXHALES] [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] PETER: Must be a relief. MARTIN: H– uh– PETER: Honestly, I thought there’d be more of a scene, but… he always surprises me.

… So, given that Jon is not hiding his annoyance about the mere concept of Peter (and given Jonathan “Bad Decisions” Sims’s luck overall), I… wonder… if this wasn’t Martin almost slipping up to say that Peter was there too, before remembering to not say anything about it? (But even if it wasn’t that during that scene, overall: I’m still wondering if Peter mightn’t be just roaming the Institute and having the time of his life listening to Jon’s complains about him and just. Not showing himself to him. Best way to avoid compulsion and to get on Jon’s nerves.)

- Curiously, the tape recorder got into static mode when Jon spotted Martin – not the distorted screeching sounds from Peter’s appearances (MAG100, MAG108, MAG120): usually, with Peter, there is a “peak” of it during his arrival/departure (well, departure in MAG100; the tape stopped while he was still there in MAG120, and he left through the door in MAG108), and a constant screeching as long as he’s there. Here, there was only a peak of static when Jon spotted Martin and, I think, nothing afterwards? Can’t 100% guarantee it, but I think it was the same static from Jon’s compulsion, which… could mean that it was Jon’s powers which allowed him to See Martin, because he was thinking of him?

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: […] Still no sign of Peter Lukas of course, or Mar– [STATIC] Wait– Wait. [CHAIR SCRAPING] [OPENS DOOR, FAR:] Martin! Martin! MARTIN: Oh. … Hi, Jon. ARCHIVIST: Martin, i–i–it’s… I, I–I haven’t seen you– MARTIN: Yeah. S–sorry.

Or was that Jon’s… “Insight”, like when he knew Tim when would be there in MAG114? He was waiting for Tim, back then, so it was something he already knew; maybe the static here was Jon Knowing right now about Martin’s presence? There was something akin to a ruffling noise, back in MAG099, too, when he mentioned Gerry in relation to Gertrude (something he had never learned prior to that), and I’m not able to tell if it was Jon’s clothes ruffling or actual static… It could be the same thing in all cases, perhaps? … aaaand now that I think about it, the fact that he knew/felt that Basira had a statement in her bag in MAG122 could also be not because he Can Feel Statements Overall Since He Is Tied To Them (smells like food.), but due, also, to that ~Insight~, since same static. Don’t know! Jon, what the eff are your powers, what the eff are you, what the eff do you know about them, etc. But the static in MAG124 could also be unrelated to Jon: Peter’s appearance (with the huge screeching) had been preceded by static in MAG108, while Martin was deciding to ask Basira about Melanie and calling for her to no avail (implying that he was already getting isolated at this point, since Basira heard him call for her afterwards). Static might be showing up when people are getting Isolated/released from isolation, while the sharp distortions are Peter’s sounds specifically? We’re lacking data so far, since we don’t know much about what is happening exactly with Peter’s appearances and that other dimension overall? For example, were Peter’s three appearances in season 3 him sneaking his way into reality (and the tape recorder reacting to the intrusion and his presence because he’s a spook), or Peter swallowing a piece of reality into the Lonely (and the tape recorder reacting because it’s not in the right space anymore)? I wonder, more and more, if there isn't something about time being involved with the Lonely, rather than only space: Peter had made a lot of references to time in season 3, and there was the fact that Basira came in to see Martin as if he had just called her name (despite the fact that the whole Peter-Martin exchange had happened in the meantime)… *squints, once again, at Elias’s clock*

- Anyway, if it wasn’t a coincidence nor Martin’s decision to pop up, and if Peter was behind it: hey Peter, remember about that? :w

(MAG108) PETER: […] And what’s Elias like to work for? Aside from orchestrating unsettling encounters? MARTIN: That’s… that’s a lot of it, to be honest. PETER: And that’s not something you look for in an employer, I assume? MARTIN: Well, he’s… I mean, you just… you’ve just said he’s watching us.

(Jon, if you still can’t meet Peter: blame Martin, it was probably because of this that “unsettling encounters” don’t happen anymore around here.) (Martin had asked for less murder, too!! I still hope that the researchers from 3rd floor are okay >:()

- Yyyyeaaaaah, so Martin basically confirmed that, even though he is unreachable (MAG122: “We don’t see him around the Archives much these days. Best I can figure, he’s working on something with Lukas. […] he comes and goes. He’s busy. Well, he seems it.” / MAG123: “Martin is working very closely with The Lonely, who is, predictably enough, isolating him”), he’s basically here, though in the Lonely dimension/space/whatever?

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: Wh–where have you been, I–I mean, I–I–I thought– MARTIN: N–no, no, I’ve… I’ve been here, I just, er… Y’know. Been busy. ARCHIVIST: Busy.

Is it the exact same place of reality as in Barnabas Bennett’s letter (MAG092), since Barnabas has… ended up as bones? If it is the same one: *screams* about what Martin is risking and/or the implications behind the fact that Martin is still alive so far D: Is it because the Institute/Archives are Beholding’s territory that both spaces are still able to interact a bit? Barnabas had felt the difference (“I know that what is done by those I cannot see might be felt here – I have found glasses broken and pages torn that were not so the night before. It is my hope that if I leave a letter here, in your institute, you might find it, you might be able to save me.”) and Elias had confirmed that his letter had reached Jonah Magnus, so it indeed looks like the Institute/Beholding can pierce through it or act as a bridge or diminish the Lonely’s influence…

- Okay, so regarding Martin himself: it was abundantly clear that he doesn’t want to tell Jon anything about what he’s doing, but also… He was shit at giving Jon reasons not to worry, and we have had ample proof that Martin can be very good at lying (he’d lied to everyone about going to uni for at least seven years before Jon extracted a confession out of him, and gave a stellar performance of getting surprised and hurt and offended when Jon asked him to stay behind in MAG116 in order to lower Elias’s guard, before suddenly turning steel-cold and in control as soon as Elias had left). So. How come Martin Blackwood wasn’t able to convincingly deceive Jon here? Was it because Jon spotting him was a surprise? Was it because Peter had suddenly dropped him back in the Archives as a ~little joke~ (Jon had mentioned Peter right before mentioning Martin)? Is it because Martin is still too weak to Jon / was very tense because he feared that Jon would compulse the hell out of him? Was it because he’s really really uncomfortable with what he’s doing, and fearing Jon’s reaction? Was it because he didn’t even care about being convincing? ;; He wasn’t surprised about Jon being awake and back, so either he had been able to see Jon even though Jon couldn’t see him, either Peter told him about Jon’s return. So… definitely, Martin is doing his thing and it’s ;; worrisome. I don’t think it’s worth hoping that the six past months (and Martin’s current… work…) haven’t messed him up, but I’m not sure that his exchange with Jon was indicative of his current state? It was mostly Martin trying to slip like water between Jon’s fingers, and trying to say the least possible (that part was obvious). So whatever he’s doing, it’s… probably not pretty, or could easily be interpreted as very bad without the full picture… (Martin is not stupid; he agreed to something in the trailer; he probably felt like he didn’t have much of a choice, or that he could get something valuable in exchange, and it clearly sounded like a sacrifice. That doesn’t mean that it’s not probably meant to backfire, but at the same time… he’s not currently being a victim?)

- BUT HAVING JON AWKWARDLY TRYING TO REACH WAS SO PAINFUL AND ~*IRONIC*~, rfdjfvjnfd I’m crying but I’m laughing and I love and I hate it. Jon not used to Martin trying his Best to not talk to him, Jon being the one who is trying to make small talk, Jon asking Martin about his poetry………………………. the stuttering, the long pauses, Martin perpetually trying to announce his departure………….. (And it also highlighted how… Jon doesn’t know much about Martin? He knows that he likes spiders, he discovered (creepily.) that Martin writes poetry (progress!! Jon didn’t say anything mean about it this time around, focusing on the activity rather than the result. Careful, Jon, next time, if Martin Gets Better, he’ll probably ask for your honest opinion about a piece and you’ll be screwed.), he knows that Martin makes tea, he knows that Martin used to write letters to his mother… that doesn’t make a lot of topics to try to grab his attention.) There is still something comforting in the fact that Jon is now trying, though? That he’s aware of what he has lost, and is trying to change, to reach, to inquire about others? Of course, it’s heart-wrenching that it’s not currently working, that the situation has changed, that it doesn’t evolve into communication, that… it might be too late. I don’t feel like it’s getting depressing, though (… not yet maybe.), because there are still efforts coming from Jon, and he seems to be following his decision from MAG117 about trusting and trying even when things don’t come to him naturally anymore. Season1!Jon wouldn’t have bothered. Season4!Jon might be too late for this, but he’s trying, and there is still hope (… for now) that it will matter in the end? (Or, precisely: it will fail, again and again, and the new tragedy will be that Jon and the others never managed to reach out at the same time.) Even with Martin’s departure, I wonder if Jon wasn’t still aiming for something:

(MAG124) MARTIN: … Look, Jon, I, I’ve really got to go, so… ARCHIVIST: Oh, er, okay… MARTIN: I’m, I’m sorry that you– ARCHIVIST: Wowowow, it was… good t–, it was good to see you. MARTIN: … Yeah. [STEPS LEAVING] ARCHIVIST: … yeah… [CLICK.]

The fact that Jon stopped Martin’s reflex to apologize and that “It was good to see you” meant that he wasn’t shutting Martin off, and maybe… throwing out an awkward attempt to give him something to fight off the Lonely? Those words are especially nice, especially caring (like Jon wasn’t asking anything out of Martin but giving something?), and it’s not a sentence that you would have expected coming from Jon’s mouth.

- There is currently a Thing about Jon coming back to his roots as Head Archivist (the statements from MAG122 and MAG123 were at the end of Gertrude’s direction/the beginning of Jon’s) and here, we kinda had a nod towards Jon’s first steps in the Institute… given that “Simon Fairchild” was one of the first cases Jon had studied as a researcher!

(MAG051) ARCHIVIST: […] One of my first cases as a researcher for the Institute in 2012 was looking into the history of a jeweller in Hackney, that had reported cases becoming cracked in the night. Nothing was ever taken but, each morning it would be like a heavy weight had been dropped upon them. Looking into it, it turned out that the jewels had, in the 1930s, belonged to a con artist and fence, who had attracted the displeasure of the local population. When one particularly irate customer threw him out of a fourth-floor window into a crowded street at midday… no one claimed to have seen anything. A minor possible haunting with a decidedly pedestrian backstory, but notable because while I was never able to discover the original name of the con artist, one of his many, many aliases was Simon Fairchild, and it appeared on several business listings around the time. Whether it’s a coincidence or not is something of a moot point at this stage, however.

(YEEEET) So, Simon again. I had stupidly assumed that he might have died in MAG051 (August 2006, expedition to retrieve antiques from a 19th century steam yacht, “The Maria Fairchild”), because there had been no trace of him after the events and the statement-giver had been told by the Captain, when inquiring about him, that “The sea is a dangerous place”. But nop, he was still active in 2012 and it looks like it’s his Thing to just… come and go (after taking someone in the process). Woopsies. But since he’s someone who is tied to Jon’s first steps in the Institute, and that Jon said that:

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: Simon Fairchild is one of the… recurrent figures that I think disquiets me the most. Not simply for what he does, the endless spaces of highs or depths to which he’s so quick to condemn his victims, but… the joy he seems to take in doing so. And I don’t think there is much to this tale beyond that: an evil man tormenting and killing simply for his own pleasure, and to feed the power that sustains him. […] I do not think I ever wish to meet him.

1°) Oh My Gods, Jon, Don’t Bring It On Yourself. (10 episodes later (probably): Jon Meets Simon Fairchild.) (I mean. You know your luck, Jon. Don’t tempt fate.) 2°) The casual shade towards (other) monsters, Jon, please… Hey, old man! Jon finds you stereotypical and too random for his taste. I’m really reassured that Jon is using a few keywords such as “victims”, “evil”, “tormenting”, and that he’s… looking down on him. That’s also good. The less neutral Jon will be about Avatars hurting people, the betteeerrrr ;; (I’m afraid of him getting… used to that dynamic, insensitive to it? Perceiving it as something normal, and mostly concerned about the ~creativity~ displayed?) (Simon had been compared to a “vulture” back in MAG051, and we also had the case of Mike Crew preying on the acrophobic brother back in MAG075… it’s not even specifically a Vast thing (since we’ve also had Elias swooping in as soon as Melanie mentioning being desperate in MAG084, or Peter around Martin) but I’m still nervously laughing that they just. Go nnyYYYOOOOOOOOOOMM as soon as someone vulnerable to their Patron is feeling things.)

- (Simon was fairly recognizable, it wasn’t especially “!!” that Jon went straight to the… meat during the post-statement, and highlighted right away that it was him although he hadn’t been named. It just makes it even more surprising that he didn’t even mention the possibilty of the girl being Annabelle Cane in MAG123. Jon, are you hiding something again? Or are the spiders encouraging you to not think too much about her…?)

- (I’m not mentioning the statement much in itself but: that was dreadful, really loved it, really resenting the fact that the episode just happened to be released when we got snow in Paris, really reassured that I could avoid the tramway during a few days and that I don’t go to the mountains anymore =D)

- nervouslaughter.wav that the statement had a son and his mother (and no father anymore) being close and then drifting away => poof! Martin invoked in the adjacent room. (mARTIN……)

- “It’s been a week and… Melanie’s attitude towards me hasn’t softened” => It sounds like Jon is back to the ~casual~ rhythm of one statement a week, which was more or less his cruising speed excepting for awful accumulations due to Circumstances. That’s a kind of normalcy he can have some control over and it’s a bit reassuring that the statement dependency doesn’t seem to have escalated, what’s with his new… status.

- Still no reference to MAG118 and MAG120’s tapes but That Means Nothing given that Jon tends to overall hide things and to reveal them much later. (He didn’t ask Martin about his mother, at least.)

- (Also: who is currently in possession of the Web lighter right now? And has Jon... stopped smoking, since he woke up.)

- Okay so if they don’t leave the Institute much and kind of live in the Archives nowadays, what are they all doing with all this free time, since…

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: […] No notes or follow-up in the statement, and obviously no research done by myself or… my team. (MAG123) ARCHIVIST: […] The investigation is tricky, I don’t want to impose on Basira and, obviously, Melanie and… Martin… aren’t available, but I did do some light searching myself on Gregory Cox. (MAG124) ARCHIVIST: […] In other cases, I might think for locations noteworthy, might to try to piece together some wider plan. But Fairchild seems to travel far and wide for his victims, with no motivation other than… variety. I do not think I ever wish to meet him. … Of course, even if I did want to do research into the statement, I wouldn’t have any help doing so.

… they’ve never been this bad at doing the follow-ups, holy heck. But ;; Sasha was the one who could hack, Tim was the one flirting his way into records, and they’re both gone. Martin sometimes went to talk to people (and have them weep on him) and he’s unavailable. Melanie is, uh, not keen on helping. Which leaves Basira, who had connections in the police, so mmm. Indeed, if she’s not helping Jon with follow-ups, what is she doing…

- So !!! regarding Basira!!

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: […] And Basira, though she is very willing to talk, still doesn’t seem to trust me enough to let me in on whatever plans she might have – if she has any plans at all, of course. I could… make her tell me, I know that, but… I can’t afford to burn any more bridges.

1°) =D Yeah, Basira said she was “more of a talker” in her first appearance (MAG043). I wonder (due to that “very willing to talk” which sounded like… Jon.) if she’s trying to keep Jon updated with the Institute’s mundane gossip. 2°) I had somehow not considered that Basira could be planning something, and I feel so stupid about it… she’s Basira! Aaaaaaaaaand. I wonder if she’s been researching The Watcher’s Crown by herself? She picked up that their ritual was still a possibility (MAG123), she had been the one to notice the regularity surrounding The Dark’s (MAG108): she’s very good at drawing connections between data to understand patterns. And it would also explain why she’s so cautious around Jon: as long as she has no way to be sure that Jon is against their ritual, as long as she doesn’t know what state Jon currently is in, it wouldn’t be a good idea to share what she has found. Jon by himself hasn’t done much to be reassuring, since he… Knew that she had a statement on her as soon as he woke up, and asked for it even before asking for water. From an external point of view, his awakening made him look more inhuman than human, even though he’s also been quite good behaviour-wise since then… 3°) Jon’s argument for not compulsing her is a tiny (TINY) bit creepy, since he’s thinking about the strategic consequences more than uuuuuuuh, Basira’s feelings on the matter??? But it’s also… typical Jon. The fact he’s aware of consequences is even an improvement compared to season 1? But it’s also highlighting that either the need to know, either the stress of people hiding things from him, is taking its toll on him, and I don’t know how long it will last before he snaps ;;

… I do wonder if that won’t be Jon’s dilemma pretty soon: trying to trust the assistants like he had decided to at the end of season 3, not probing them too much, waiting for them to open up to him when they feel it’s Right, not compulsing the truth out of them (and accepting that they’re taking risks and could get harmed in their own involvements), or… compulsing them hard and extorting what is actually happening (losing what remains of their trust in the process, directing their disgust/hate towards him maybe, but also ensuring that he would be able to save their lives)? I mean, for Jon, Tim just happened. He chose to trust Tim, to give Tim the opportunity Tim sought, and Tim didn’t come back from that. That could change his perspective a bit about his way to try and save the assistants.

(Overall: AHAHAHAHAHA, SOBBING ABOUT MARTIN, WOW THAT WAS SO RUDE. SO, SO RUDE. At this point, only Elias will to be happy to ~see~ that Jon has woken up, uh.)

#it's... interesting how the fact that other characters are barely telling jon anything #gives an impression of constant surveillance in the background?#it's worse than in season 3 (where they hadn't been subtle at all); it's worse than when *elias* had been around...#the magnus archives #mag124 #tma season 4 #tma liveblog #tma spoilers

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hollyoaksloversx · 6 years

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Under New Management!

Rounding up a week in Hollyoaks (10th-14th September 2018)

It was all change in Hollyoaks this week as we said bon voyage to Ellie and Holly, caught our first glimpse at the new look Hollyoaks High, and welcomed some new, but very familiar, owners to The Dog...

As the week began, the WAGs continued their campaign against Glenn and decided to use the reopening of Hollyoaks High as an opportunity to put the wind up him. Offering to help out, the group took one of the banners and painted ‘Glenn killed his son’ on it, leaving Sally and the mayor mortified when it was unveiled! With Glenn spooked, Maxine reckoned that a confession was imminent, so she took him home and hit record on her phone. Unfortunately, whilst Glenn did confess, he cottoned on to what was happening and promptly deleted the file before telling Maxine he would have to kill her. Luckily for Maxine, Glenn’s aneurysm chose just the right moment to intervene and Glenn collapsed...

Rather than phone an ambulance, Maxine phoned her fellow WAGs for assistance, but they were about as much use as DS Cassidy investigating a murder. As Maxine contemplated leaving Glenn to die, the situation was taken out of her hands when Jesse arrived home. As Glenn was rushed to hospital, Maxine informed Misbah of Glenn’s living will, in which he stated he did not want surgery if there was any risk of brain damage. However, Misbah told Maxine and Jesse that they would need to find the document and fast, as without it, she would be forced to proceed with the treatment she thought best, which was surgery. Sadly for Maxine (and us) Jesse got to the will first and pocketed it before Maxine noticed. Glenn survived his op, and was soon baying for Maxine’s blood, asking Grace to kill her. Of course, Grace wasn’t really going to kill Maxine so they staged a set-up, which Glenn seemed to believe. Until they could figure out what to do next, Grace ordered Maxine to stay in the flat, something which she found very difficult indeed. In fact, it proved so difficult that she took herself off to see Mitzeee, who is currently in London.

Meanwhile, Farrah was delighted when Kim informed her that she could leave hospital, however, her mood soon changed when Kim told her how terrified she was, as she feared bumping into Glenn. In an attempt to help, Farrah altered Kim’s blood pressure reading on her notes, and Misbah informed them that Kim would have to remain in hospital whilst they investigated the cause of her rising blood pressure. Unfortunately, Kim did not react in the way that Farrah was expecting, as she told her that being in hospital reminded her of being locked in the basement. Kim then faced another blow when she spotted Glenn being wheeled into the hospital and soon decided to channel her inner Lindsey by killing him, even donning a pair of blue gloves! Luckily, Farrah stopped Kim becoming Hollyoaks latest killer, but Kim was left shaken by what she had almost done and worried that she was turning into her sister.

Elsewhere, the investigation into Carl Costello’s murder continued and Roxy refused to let go of her suspicions that Mercedes was involved, even cornering Russ in The Bean and asking if Mercedes had mentioned anything to him. Whilst Russ immediately jumped to his fiance’s defence, he was clearly shaken when Roxy pointed out just how many of Mercedes’ exes had met an unfortunate end! In fact, Russ was so concerned, that he decided to sleep with a rolling pin under his pillow, just in case Mercedes turned on him! As Mercedes and Russ prepared to meet with the vicar who would be marrying them, Russ decided he could hold it in no longer and confronted Mercedes over her past relationships. Mercedes was heartbroken by Russ’ words and pointed out that all of her exes, bar Paul Browning, had died in tragic circumstances completely out of her control. Russ felt terrible and apologised by buying The Dog and making Mercedes the landlady! Having the McQueen’s in the pub is a stroke of genius and I cannot wait to see what havoc they cause!

Of course, the Nightingale’s couldn’t leave The Dog quietly and they had a busy week as they prepared to hand over the reins. Yasmine was concerned when Alfie informed her that Mac had contacted him and she shared her worries with Marnie. When the pair realised that Alfie had gone to visit Mac, they decided to follow him, fully expecting to find that Alfie was imaging Mac’s recovery. So, imagine their horror when arrived to find that Mac had indeed defied the odds and recovered from locked in syndrome! The following day, Marnie and Alfie returned to the hospital, this time taking James with them, and Mother and eldest Son agreed not to share the news with Ellie, who was about to leave for her round the world trip. However, Alfie felt that his sister should be told, and blurted it out once back at home.

As the family came to terms with the fact that Mac had recovered, Alfie was struggling with his mental health, and he convinced himself that his Father was in danger when he misinterpreted a conversation between him and Ellie. Convinced that Ellie was threatening Mac, Alfie phoned the police to report her for pushing Mac out the window before Christmas, and Roxy soon arrived to arrest her. The following day, Ellie was charged with attempted murder as James tried to help in any way he could. He was forced to turn to Sami for help, and Sami soon found a loophole in Ellie’s case when he discovered that Alfie had not been taking his medication. It was enough to discredit his evidence and Ellie was released. With her nightmare over, Ellie and Holly left Hollyoaks for their round the world trip. As Chez Cunningham lost one resident, it gained two more as Alfie announced he was moving in, complete with a wheelchair bound Mac!

Finally, Hollyoaks High reopened and Breda dragged Peri and Harley along to the launch, hoping that the girls would make a good impression on Sally. However, Harley was horrified when she realised that Breda had put an application in on her behalf and raged at her in The Bean, just as Sally walked in. Needless to say, Sally declined to offer Harley a place, but soon reconsidered when she learned about the voluntary work Harley was doing with the homeless. Harley wasn’t the only new pupil at the school as Charlie, Leah and Ella joined year 7. How can this be? Charlie and Leah were babies 5 minutes ago!

5 Things We Learned This Week:

1. Mercedes and the black widow spider have lots in common. Little Bobby provided the comedy this week as he unintentionally compared his Mother to a spider, putting the wind up Russ in the process.

2. Apparently Mercedes is single handedly keeping the local church in business, what with all the weddings she’s had there. I’d imagine the shockingly high death rate in the village also helps keep the vicar in work!

3. I’ve often thought that Maxine’s not got the brain’s she was born with, but she sunk to new levels of stupidity this week when she failed to hide the phone she was recording Glenn’s confession on. What a prize plonker.

4. Friends are easy to lose. Just last week, Ella was begging Mandy to let her attend Hollyoaks High with all her friends. This week, she’s saying about her new school; “I don’t know anyone there, really”. Make your mind up, child!

5. It’s nice to have a show that is able to laugh at itself. As Cindy said goodbye to Holly, she mentioned how much her face had changed over the years and pointed out that she would likely have trouble recognising her when she returned. A nice little nod to the fact that Holly has had three heads in the last 10 years!

Characters Featured:

Alfie, Bobby, Breda, Charlie, Cindy, Courtney, DS Roxy Cassidy, Ella, Ellie, Farrah, Glenn, Grace, Harley, Holly, Imran, James, Jesse, Kim, Leah, Mac, Marnie, Mercedes, Max, Maxine, Misbah, Myra, Peri, Russ, Sally, Sami, Simone, Sylver, Tom, Yasmine and Zack.

Past Characters Mentioned:

Dr Paul Browning, Kath Butterfield, Lindsey Butterfield, Carl Costello, Riley Costello, Adam Donovan, Tracey Donovan, Milo Entwhistle, Malachy Fisher, Neeta Kaur, Carmel McQueen, Jacqui McQueen, John Paul McQueen, Michaela McQueen, Tina McQueen, Mitzeee Minniver, Nathan Nightingale, Freddie Roscoe, JJ Roscoe, Joe Roscoe, Lexi Roscoe, Dirk Savage, Nick Savage, Calvin Valentine.

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crzcorgi · 7 years

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Birds of a Feather

Part 3 of Little Lost Soul

2150 words

Warnings ~ Negan language, bit of angst (reader is selectively mute), no smut in this part

I’m sorry if you wanted to be tagged and I didn’t, I have a new phone and need to get my list off of my old phone.

Tags are at the end. Want on or off my taglist? Just drop me a note!

I wanted to chase after y/n, ask her why she was obviously scared as fuck. I wanted her to know she was safe, I was here to protect her. But I needed to take care of something first. “Well,” I stepped closer to Tad “what’s with the shocked face, Tad? You look like you saw a fucking mouse.” I placed my hand down on his shoulder, grasping tightly. “Did you see a fucking mouse, Tad? Y/N certain-fucking-ly saw something. Best be getting rid of any trace of fucking vermin before that sweet doll moves in. Any ideas on how to fucking do that, Tad? Mmmhmm?” "Uh, I’m uh, not sure what I saw, sir. Maybe I heard something?“ I could see the fucking sweat beading on the fuckface’s head. “Well, if uh, you don’t need me, I’ll be uh, heading out.” He started to move around me, heading towards the door.

I grabbed his upper arm, yanking him backwards towards the bed, the back of his knees hitting the mattress causing him to land back onto the bed.

“You’re not fucking going anywhere. Stay fucking there, move an inch and I’ll know, got it?”

He nodded, his fucking big eyes never leaving mine.

I stepped into the hallway, leaning on the wall across from the door, keeping an eye on the shithead. Picking my radio off my waist, I pushed the call button. “Simon, I need you back up to the new room, fucking NOW!”

“Okay, boss, I’m in the garage, I’ll be there as quick as possible.”

I stood there, tapping my boot, my hand clasping, unclasping, needing, more like wanting, to feel Lucille in my grasp. Fuck it! Where the fuck was Simon?!!!

I couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts and questions rolling through my mind. What exactly had happened to y/n? What did those fuckers do to her? Who, besides the fucker sitting in her room, were they? How many? How did this happen? Why didn’t anyone stop it? Whatever exactly “it” was. And that thought scared the fuck out of me.

I thought I had made my fucking Sanctuary rules pretty damn clear. Most fucking especially the one where we don’t rape women. I’m not even fucking sure that’s what went down with y/n, but I’m pretty fucking sure. Shit, even if they touched her without her consent I’ll fucking flip.

I looked up just in time to see Simon jogging down the hall.

“So, what’s up, boss? Sounded fucking urgent.”

I stepped away from the wall, moving closer to Simon but still in view of the fucker sitting on the bed.

“So, Tad,” I gestured towards the fucker. “you left him putting curtains up or some shit. Well, when y/n and I stepped into the room she fucking flipped, hightailing it out. And Tad, well, let’s just say you would see a less guilty face on death fucking row. As much as I want to serve justice right fucking now, we need to know what went down exactly. Who was involved, when, where, all that fucking shit. And I need to find doll.” I let out a deep breath, fucking hope she was okay

“So what should I do with him? Cell, for now?” Simon glanced in at him, grimacing. “Kinda thought he was a shady fucker.”

I raised my brows, “And you didn’t feel that was necessary information to fucking share?”

“Honestly, no. I was keeping an eye on him, thought he might be more the type to have sticky fingers, not a sticky dick.”

“What?!”

“Nothing. Let me grab the shithead.” He shook his head at me.

“I’m going to find doll. I want you to discreetly inquire about what exactly went on with y/n. And get back to me.”

I patted him on the shoulder, glancing quickly at the shithead. I wanted to take care of him, now. But I need to find y/n.

I headed down to the cafeteria, no doll. No luck in the kitchen, the warehouse, the commissary. Then I remembered where I first saw her and headed towards the schoolroom. I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the whole room, no y/n.

“Are you looking for y/n, sir?”

I turned to look at who spoke. “Uh, no, well yes. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is would you?”

“She stopped by to say she wouldn’t be able to make it in to help the kids today, then she ran out of here quick as a bunny. I have never seen her so nervous, so scared. And that’s saying a lot.” She shook her head.

“She didn’t happen to say why she couldn’t help did she, maybe say where she was going?” I doubted she would have, but a man could fucking hope.

“I’m afraid not, she just quickly handed me the note and turned and ran. I’m sorry sir. If I do see hear, would you like me to let her know you’re looking for her?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay, thank you.” I turned to leave.

“You have a nice day, sir.” She waved goodbye.

I waved back. “You too.” Where the fuck are you doll?!

Where would someone go when they were fucking frightened to fucking death? The Sanctuary was fucking huge, yes. But most places were off limits or just hard to gain access to. Which would probably be where y/n would go.

In the back of the main building just off of the loading docks are old offices, dust filled, fucking smells from god knows what and most certainly inhabited by fucking wildlife. As I stepped into the debris littered hallway I looked down noticing tiny footsteps in the dirt and dust. Jesus fuck, doll, this isn’t a safe haven.

Trying to be as fucking quiet as my boots would allow, I followed the trail of footsteps, which led to a room almost at the end of the hallway. I stopped quickly when I heard a sound, vibration, no, humming?

Making my way towards the sound, I peeked my head around the door to see a very strange sight. Y/N was sitting on the floor, surrounded by various fucking wildlife, squirrels, rabbits, a fawn?! And birds were perching on the open window sills, one small black one was sitting on doll’s shoulder as she feed him something.

I couldn’t even fucking speak. Yeah, I was in shock, what the fuck is this?! Some weird ass Disney movie come to life?! But doll, she was smiling, one of those natural ear to ear ones, the kind that takes your breath away.

And the humming was coming from her, she was humming to the odd menagerie that encircled her. They were as entranced by her as I was.

“Boss, you there?”

Fuckity fuck, my radio! I reached down quickly flicking the off switch.

I tried to back up so as to not disturb y/n, but I tripped over some fucking discarded trash, falling backwards right on my ass. “Fuck!”

I couldn’t see into the room but I heard what I assumed was the herd tucking tail out of there. I was expecting she was going to be fucking pissed at me. But what I didn’t expect her to be standing over me, a silent laugh showing on her face.

“Think I’m fucking funny, huh doll?” I grinned up at her.

She covered her mouth, as if she was trying to quiet herself. She offered a hand to me. “Thanks.” I took a hold of it, standing up beside her. Still holding her hand, I brought my other hand to it, rubbing it between them.

“Jesus, your hand is frozen!” I let go of her hand, placing my hands on her bare upper arms, rubbing gently. “Your whole body is cold, doll. Don’t you have a sweater or a jacket sweetheart? If you’re going to spend time in here with your little zoo, you need to fucking dress for it.”

She looked up at me, a confused look on her face. She pulled back from me, reaching into her pants and pulling out a pen and piece of wrinkled paper. Placing the paper against the wall, she jotted something down. When she was finished, she put the pen back into her pocket, then handed me the paper.

I took it, reading the words.

I hope you aren’t too upset with me. I figured no one came out here so they would be safe. I always clean up after them, and use my points only. They are my friends.

How could I deny doll what obviously comforted her? She came here when she was scared shitless by a fuckwad that most certainly hurt her in some unwarranted way. This must be a safe place for her.

When I looked up from paper, she was gone. I moved to the doorway and saw her standing in one of the open windows, a black bird eating something out of her small hand.

Moving closer, I could see that it must have been a baby, it’s feathers more fuzzy than slick.

“Y/N? What kind of bird is that? Is it a baby?” I spoke quietly not wanting to spook either girl nor bird.

She jiggled her arm, the bird taking a cue and hopping up her arm to her shoulder. She signaled to the paper, pulling her pen out. Taking it, she wrote.

He’s a raven, and yes, he’s an abandoned baby. She had drawn a sad face at the end.

“A raven, wow, must not be very old at all, huh? That fucker is tiny.” I smiled at her. “He’s friendly, or is that just with you, doll?”

She took my hand, startling me. She put some bread crumbs in my palm, guiding it up to her shoulder. The raven hopped over onto my wrist, eating the bread right away. I brought my arm down between y/n and I, watching how he kept one eye on her at all times.

“The little fuck thinks you’re momma, doesn’t he? And he’s like fucking house trained or what the fuck ever, right? I don’t need him shitting on me.”

Her face just lit up with the most fucking beautiful smile, her version of laughter.

“Laughing at me again, sweetheart? Yeah, I’m kinda of a funny fucker at times.”

The bird hopped back over to y/n’s arm, quickly making its’ way to her shoulder, hiding in her loose hair.

Seeing her smiling, seeming so happy, I hesitated bringing up why I was looking for her.

“Y/N, I’m sure you know why I was searching for you. We need to talk about what happened.” I tensed up, my muscles ready for any movement, any attempt at escape from her. But the only show of moving was one tiny hand reaching up to delicately stroke the baby bird’s downy feathers. Her eyes never leaving the floor.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know you don’t want to think about it, just want to fucking forget it. But they need to be punished. And I want to make sure no one hurts you again. I want to keep you safe, doll.”

Her eyes darted up to mine, those eyes, such a beautiful shade of y/e/c, but so much sadness, so fucking lost and alone. Fuck sweetheart, I will take care of you.

She made a sign with her hands, a gesture aimed more for herself than for me. She let out a big sigh, one hand still patting the bird.

“I tell you what, why don’t you come with me, have something to eat, get a good night’s sleep, then tomorrow we’ll talk. Sound good?” I moved towards the door hoping she would follow. When she didn’t, I got a fucking idea. “And bring your little friend. You can share just how your fucking zoo came to be.”

A big smile appeared on her face as she quickly approached me. Signing thank you, which I remembered from earlier, she raised up on her toes, placing a tiny peck on my cheek.

I took a fucking chance, offering her my hand, and she didn’t hesitate, intertwining her small fingers with mine.

I dreaded what was to fucking come tomorrow. I have been witness to all kinds of fucking depraved acts since the fucking end. But the worse were when it involved the loss of innocence. Those fuckers will pay. And y/n will never experience pain like that again in her lifetime, not if I have anything to say about it.

But tonight I want her to relax a bit, no fear, no loneliness. I don’t know why I feel the need to be fucking near her, why I want to know everything about her. I’m drawn to her in a way I’ve only experienced one before, a lifetime ago.

I know I’m no good for her. She’s pure, I’m fucking tainted. She’s gentle, kind, I’m ruthless, rough. But as long as I can, I am going to bask in her unblemished innocent soul. As long as she’ll have me.

Part 4 coming soon!

@mypapawinchester @kijilinn @may85 @mamapeterson @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @negandarylsatisfaction @rapsity @strangersangel9 @wickednerdery @hannibalssweaters @ladylorelitany @angelak72081 @scarygoodfanfics @superpinkkcat @gageef @ericas-negan77 @miss-nori85 @ali-pennell @smuttwd @purplejellybean @concertxjunkie @magical-spit @jotilpip @thedeadwalks @negantrashlucille23 @pandainfinitely @xdaddy-neganx @almostinwonderland @myheart4ever47-blog @lauryphelps1d @texasgal2222 @rizflo-blog @catleesi-xo @negans-network @melodicdolls @ohmyneganimagination-twd @kitcat44 @jmackie1983 @bulletscrossbowpie @astrangegirlsmind @negans-dirty-girl @theatricalbride @jasoncrouse @neganscatleesi @yesfangirlfan @jdmsgal @sherrilynn67 @cherieann-2001

@glittered-unicorn-lava @memphisgirl1977 @m3ment0m0ri @peculiarlittleprince @yellatthetopofyourlungs @tennantsforever @bloody-jinxx @neganskitty @beingsad-is-kindofrad @blumenkind72 @yesfangirlfan @genevievedarcygranger @rhapsody-in-flannel @sarahlee8793 @mwesterfeld1985 @moonlight-devotion @missmich14 @haleyea @shadowstar123 @foreverplagued

#negan #negan's thirst squad #negans network #negan x you #negan x reader #little lost soul #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #selectively mute #jeffrey dean morgan #crzcorgi writes

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geekyzelda · 7 years

Text

Cancer

((This was intended to be a small poem thing and it grew into this. Sorry. Until next time, GeekyZelda))

If you say Goodbye today, I'll ask you to be true. 'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you.

The morning they received the news from the healer Silas and Sarah couldn’t leave the bed. Tears from both pooled on the pillow as he ran his hands through her hair and she clung to him like a boat in a storm. They lay between the sheets until the sun set, neither sleeping, simply appreciating the other’s presence. No plans were discussed that night, no thoughts of the future. Just their last lingering shred of hope as it was blown out the open window.

The next day, they called a family meeting.

“All Heap children in attendance, please. We have something to tell you.”

The formality of the letter spooked them all.

Simon and Lucy rushed straight to the family homestead first thing that morning. Sam and Marwick traveled through the queen’s way as soon as possible. Edd postponed a date with a cute ordinary wizard. Erik paused in the middle of a three day spell. JoJo left the sanctuary of the Grotto. Nicko sailed straight home from the Port. Jenna cancelled three meetings with foreign dignitaries. Septimus took the first day off of his career.

That afternoon, no later than 2 pm, all Heaps and associated spouses were crammed into the room behind the big red door. The feeling of safety and comfort that usually permeated the space was overshadowed by an ever increasing anxiety. Sarah sat at the head of the table. Silas served a pot of tea and stood behind his wife, his hands on her shoulders. Everyone held their breath as she loosed her news.

“I’m dying kids.”

Time stood still. The noise of the moat vanished outside. The untouched tea on the table grew cold.

William broke the silence. “Grandma, what do you mean?”

And the tears began.

Together, the family cried as the news sunk in and took hold.

“Oh Mum!” “Of all the people.” “How long have you known?” “Too little time.” “There must be something we can do.” “Incurable disease, the healer said.” “How long do you have?” “Six months.” “I love you all so very much.”

Someone mentioned dinner. No one felt like eating.

The family sat together as they scrambled to formulate a plan on how to handle the coming months.

But there is no way to prepare yourself for the death of your mother.

Eventually, the kids left the room behind the big red door feeling like wet noodles. Heavily drained and one big wobbly mess.

Everyone had different ways of dealing with the announcement.

Septimus scared Tod, and most of the Wizard Tower, half to death by blasting a wall with magyk. He glared at the burn left next to Alther’s frying pan clock before Septimus fell to his knees and broke down crying. Tod wrapped her mentor in a hug as he bawled. “I feel like I’m ten again. I’ve only just found her and now I’m going to lose her.”

Edd got home and laid on the floor of his room in the Wizard Tower. He didn’t realize time was passing until someone knocked on the door. Edd ignored it. They knocked again and kept a continuous strain until the man some how pulled himself off the floor, stumbled to the door, and ripped it open. Outside was the ordinary wizard he was supposed to go out with. She smiled sheepishly and held out a glass dish wrapped in plastic. “The tower is buzzing with the news that the Extra Ordinary Wizard’s mother is sick and, well, I thought you could use some company.” Edd stared blankly at her. ”So, is that a no?” “Ah! No, please, come in.”

Erik went for a long walk in the forest. He left the Castle as soon as the bridge was down in the morning with no food and no plans of returning until sunset. He wondered all day long. It was little short of a miracle nothing attacked the man. Absorbed in thought, before he knew it, Erik was lost in a deep, unfamiliar part of the woods. He was beginning to worry about finding his way home when a rough voice sounded behind him. “I was beginning to believe none of my grandchildren would visit me again.”

Two nights after the announcement, Rupert Gringe found Nicko laying in the bottom of a boat they were patching in the yard. Rupert recognized the bottle of whiskey at Nicko’s side as one of the finest the Port could afford to import. It was worth a pretty penny and how Nicko got his hands on a bottle was beyond Rupert. Now, there was little more than a shot’s worth in the bottom. Rupert leaned on the boat. “Where’s Snorri?” Nicko shrugged. “‘Sleep I ‘ssume.” Rupert shook his head at the man’s slurred speech and climbed in with his friend. “Any whiskey left for me?” Nicko took one last swig, draining the bottle. “No.” “... Whatcha staring at?” “Andromada. Cassiopeia isn’t out for another month.” “That’s a morbid constellation, Nik.” “‘It’s morbid times.” Nicko was quiet for a moment before, “I’m gonna miss her so much.” “Yeah.”

Simon accidentally exploded a vial while at work. Marcellus swept it up, claiming it was nothing while side eyeing his apprentice the whole time. When it happened a second time Marcellus pulled Simon away from the work bench and told him to go home. “You need to be with family.” “There has to be a cure. There has to!” “Simon, there wasn’t one five hundred years ago. If they haven’t found some treatment by now, I don’t know if they ever will.” “Then I’ll just have to be the one to find it.”

JoJo accidentally knocked over two fully stocked shelves at the Grotto. When his co-workers came to investigate, they found JoJo picking glass out of his palm. “I dropped the Ghost Friend in a Jar.” “All three hundred of them?” “Yep.” “... JoJo, do you want a drink?” They still don’t know if the glass embedded in his hand was accidental.

Sam dragged a chair outside onto the deck of the Keeper’s Cottage and watched the sun set. He only moved when Marwick dragged him inside for bed at night. Marwick woke the next morning to find the bed empty and Sam back in the chair. On the fifth day of this, Marwick went out to see Sam wrapped in an old knitted blanket. “Sarah make that for you?” “Yes, ages ago.” “She’s a good person. A great Mum.” “The best. She doesn’t deserve this, Mar. Not one bit.” Sam rested his head on Marwick’s shoulder and watched the sun rise, just like his Mum always had.

Jenna’s feet carried her straight to the manuscriptorium. Perhaps the scribes thought it unnerving when the Queen burst into the main room and strode straight to the Hermatic Chamber with tears in her eyes. Perhaps the scribes were confused when the Chief walked out a few minutes later and demanded they all take the rest of the day off. However, years of living in a place as wild as the Castle had hardened their curiosity, besides you never say no to the boss. A few of the older scribes who were close to Beetle expressed concern but were waved off with little explanation. Once the manuscriptorium was empty, the front door locked, and the ‘Closed for emergency’ sign flipped, Beetle led Jenna to his apartment above. There she explained everything, wrapped in his arms, cuddling on the couch. “I can’t do this. I can’t just watch her die. I have to do something.”

A week later, Jenna called her brother’s and sister in law to the Palace. The siblings gathered in a side room, looking more disheveled than they ever had in their lives. Sep forwent his signature robes and opted for a simpler purple tunic and leg wraps under his belt and Ankh amulet. Simon hadn’t shaved and his beard was longer than ever. Nicko smelt like booze. JoJo smelt like smoking greens. Sam’s usually immaculate clothing was rumpled and worn. Edd had his shirt on backwards and wore mismatched boots. Erik was so sleep deprived he could barely stand straight.

All eight siblings looked dead on their feet and hurt in the heart.

Jenna stood from her couch staring at her brothers, Marwick, Beetle, and Lucy. She tried to put on a strong face as she said, “I called you all here today to-” Jenna stopped to take a deep breath and Beetle put a hand on her back. “Discuss our circumstances.”

“Geeze, Jen. Your job sure has made you rigid,” JoJo commented.

Jenna tried to glare at him and failed. He was right. Here she was among family. Jenna sat, dropped her queenly air, and ignored the ugly feeling as her face scrunched and she sobbed.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know and it’s killing me.”

“Tell me about it,” Septimus muttered. Simon sighed and nodded at the same time.

The other Heap boys eyed each other. It was rare to see the most headstrong of the siblings acting so forlorn.

“We have to be there for her,” Sam said quietly. He made eye contact with each sibling as he spoke. “We visit her. We help her with the medication. We all go to weekly dinner. We are going to make these the happiest 6 months she’s had.”

“Yeah,” Edd said. “We hang out with her. We read to her. We bring her food.”

“We can’t forget Dad,” JoJo pointed out in an undertone. “We have to be there for him too.”

“I’ll take him fishing,” Sam said.

“I could show him some new spells,” Septimus suggested.

“I’ll go walking with him in the forest,” Erik said.

“We are going to be there for our parents,” Simon said. “They did everything for us. Sacrificed so much for us. It’s time we repay the favor.”

“I just wish it wasn’t so soon.”

Everyone was quiet before Jenna suddenly burst out laughing.

“Do, do you guys remember the fried fish incident?”

Grins spread across faces as memory sparked.

“The what?” Lucy asked looking at Jenna.

“Oh no,” Simon muttered. Lucy gave him a funny look.

The younger girl gave a loud laugh as she sputtered out, “Mum and Dad went out on a date, I think Simon was fourteen at the time. Anyway, they left him in charge of feeding us and he was trying to fry fish but-” Jenna broke off, unable to continue she was laughing so hard, sending Nicko and the twins chuckling.

Simon rolled his eyes and said, “The grease in the pan caught fire and I was so shocked I screamed.”

“Like a little kid,” JoJo interjected with a mischievous grin.

“The neighbor came running,” Simon continued. “She put the fire out but she forbade me from the stove for the rest of the night. When our parents came home, Mum was inspecting the charred fish when Maxie used her lap as a stepping stone to jump on the table and he ate the fish. Gobbled it right up.” Jenna was laughing so hard she had stopped making noise and the rest of the boys chuckled.

“Oh, oh!” Sam cried. He pointed at the twins and practically yelled out of excitement, “Do you two remember when you put a fake poo in Mum and Dad’s bed?”

Erik grinned wide. “And she refused to sleep in the bed for a week? Yes.”

“She had us washing the laundry for a month after that. Until I ‘accidentally’ added the wrong soap,” Edd laughed.

“I knew that was intentional! You ruined my favorite socks!” Nicko said.

“Or, when Sep first experienced Mum’s old switcheroo,” Simon grinned at his youngest brother.

“Oh, no, don’t,” Sep protested, although the smile on his face said otherwise.

“Aw, come on little bro!” Nicko clapped Sep on the back. “Mum had that tunic off you, wiped down, and hanging out the window in ten seconds flat.”

“We’ve all experienced it, even Dad,” JoJo sighed and the boys shuddered.

“Not me!” Jenna said proudly. “I never spilt on myself.”

“Maybe not, but do you remember when Mum accidentally started the rumor that you were dating Joe Mali?” Sam asked.

“Oh, don’t even bring it up.”

“No, I want to hear this one,” Beetle grinned at Jenna and the girl shook her head. Sam was more than happy to oblige.

“Jen used to have the biggest crush on Joe.”

“I was six years old!”

“You couldn’t talk to her without her bringing him up. Joe wore green today. Joe cut his hair! Joe this and Joe that.”

“I am going to throw a pillow at you!”

“How very diplomatic of you.”

“Shut it, Nicko.”

“Mum never let her live it down. I think she still keeps tabs on the boy, no offense, Beetle.”

“None taken.”

“I don’t know why you’re poking fun at her love life, Sam,” Simon stated. “Do you remember when you came out to us?”

Sam shook his head. “I was so stupidly nervous.”

“And all Mum had to say was-”

“‘Took you long enough to realize!’”

“And she went right back to cooking!” Sam yelled sending another round of laughter through the siblings.

“I remember the first time Dad took me fishing,” Septimus started.

“Uhg, what a disaster,” Nicko groaned.

“I never asked, what happened?” Jenna said.

“I fell in the river,” Septimus said.

“No, no, no,” Nicko interrupted. “He’s simplifying it.”

“Nicko-”

“Nuh huh, they are hearing this. Sep was sitting there on the rock, his pole in the river, book in the other hand, like you used to do, Sam.”

“Hey, we are related!”

“Sep felt a tug on the line and called Dad and I over. He reeled it in and, I shit you not, Septimus caught a 50 centimeter river bass. His first time fishing and this kid catches a gigantic fish without even trying.”

“Where’d it go?”

“Just wait,” Sep said and he buried his head in his hands.

“I’m getting there. Dad tried to help him take the hook out of the fish but Sep insisted on doing it himself. He pulled the hook out when the fish jumped. It whacked him across the face so hard he rolled off the rock and fell straight into the water!” Everyone burst out laughing and Septimus smiled from under his fingers.

“When we went home, I was soaked to the bone. Mum asked if I had tried to catch the fish with my mouth,” Septimus laughed.

The giggles faded and the room was quiet.

Almost to himself, Septimus muttered, “I couldn’t have asked for a better family.”

“Aw, little bro! Was that a confession of love?”

“He really does care about us!” Edd and Erik teased.

“Shut up you two, of course I love you idiots,” Septimus flicked in their direction.

“Hey! No magyk in the house,” Jenna cried.

“Now you really sound like Mum, Jen!” JoJo said. Jenna stuck her tongue out at him. “Ah! There’s my sister back.”

“When was the last time we all just, hung out?” Sam asked, half laughing.

The group was quiet as they thought about it.

“The last time we were all together,” Simon began slowly. “Was in the Tower infirmary after you were hurt in the ancient ways five years ago, Sam.”

Sam frowned and the mood in the room dropped.

“We really need to lean to pick better times to get together,” Nicko half-joked earning a few chuckles.

The siblings reminisced into the night, laughing and teasing and poking fun at each other in a way they never truly had. Once in awhile, the weight of their situation would bring itself down upon someone’s shoulders, but the constant laughter banished it away. There would be time for tears and time to hurt. For tonight, the Heap kids just wanted to be happy.

However, like time, happiness is fleeting.

The night Sarah died, she was alone with Silas. The day was a Sunday and the whole family had met for family dinner. There were smiles on faces as eyes avoided acknowledging how fragile Sarah had come to look. Her disease had not been kind and her body was giving up. After a pleasant dinner with a side of concern and a hidden helping of unease, the children left their parents with plenty of time to prepare for bed.

Sometime in the night, Sarah shifted which woke Silas from his restless sleep.

“Do you need something?” Silas asked. His eyes raked his wife’s face, looking for a sign of something wrong. Sarah shook her head and he relaxed a bit.

“Silas.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to know, I wouldn’t change a thing about this life we’ve made together.”

Her voice sounded weak to Silas’s ears.

“Sarah...”

“Will you do one last thing for me?”

“Anything, love. Anything.”

Sarah’s eyes searched his face as she said, “Miss me.”

Silas’s voice cracked when he finally found it. “Of course. Every day, for as long as I live.”

He hugged her close and kissed her head. Sarah held on to the front of his night shirt and took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the man she had given her all to. Of the first and only man she had ever doubtlessly loved.

“The hardest part of all of this… Is leaving you.”

“I love you, Sarah. With all my heart.”

“I love you, Silas. With everything I have and more.”

Silas didn’t sleep that night.

He didn’t move when her breath left her in one final gasp and her fingers released his shirt. He held her body in his arms as he watched the sun rise with tears in his eyes and his heart broken cleanly in half.

#Septimus Heap #geeky writes #so this happened #had block for months and a couple nights ago #it just came to me & i thought of the song #and well #yeah #wish you could center text #It'd make the top quote look so much cleaner

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ceenario · 6 years

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It is with a very heavy heart that my family and I say goodbye to my grandma Maria Raquel Zambrano, who passed away this morning. . My Grandma Raquel was my 2nd Mom. She watched me after school, she drove me wherever, took me to martial arts and football practice, brought me lunch, took care of me when I was sick and even made a lot of my Halloween costumes from scratch. I hated going to House of Fabrics 😂, but I always knew she was gonna make me something dope. I traveled to my dad’s homeland 🇪🇨 Ecuador with her and my Grandpa Simon for a whole summer and had a blast getting to know my family there (RIP grandpa 🙏🏽). I spooked and pranked her all the time and she was always a good sport. She swore she didn’t snore her whole life so I used my Talkboy to record her sleeping when I had a chance, then I showed her she said it was me making those noises. Lmao. We had so many laughs and inside jokes, a lot of times laughing so hard only wheezing and tears came out. . As time passed, I got older, spent less time at home or family events and didn’t visit her often 😔. I think before I saw her last week it had been at least 6 months if not a year. I feel like shit about that. I’m so glad my friend/boss pushed me to make sure I saw her ASAP because she knew how much I wanted to make more time to spend with her, even though over the last year+ she was battling dementia/Alzheimer’s and didn’t really seem to recognize me anymore. But as I held her hand last week and sat by her bed, knowing it might be her last days, she squeezed my hand tightly and opened her eyes a few times and even winked at me. She hadn’t been verbally responsive for over a week but she responded to me twice when I asked her questions. I sat with her and sang to her and said I’d see her again soon. In my heart, I wasn’t sure, but I said hey, I’ll come again next week. . She stuck it out one more week. 💪🏽 She gets to rest now and not be in pain or feel lost. I love you grandma. May God bless your soul and guide you through the journey between this world and the next. I’ll see you in the afterlife. Te quiero mucho. ❤️ . #RIPGrandma #TBT #ThrowbackThursday (at Ecuador)

#throwbackthursday #tbt #ripgrandma

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sweetdreamsjeff · 7 years

Text

Jeff Buckely Mystifying Caucasian Male by KARA VANDERBIJL

Jeff Buckley’s brief intro before launching into a cover of “Dido’s Lament” is murmured in a ghost’s timbre, barely outdoing the white noise on the recording even at highest volume. His audience laughs, spooked, then the piano opens. “Thy hand, Belinda,” Jeff sings. His is a freakish voice, made all the more odd by the grainy quality of the recording; a high falsetto mimicking the dramatic mezzo-soprano for which Purcell wrote the aria. He wails — his voice almost breaks, but doesn’t. Listening, we want it to break; the melody is too pure, its perfect desperation too stringent for this wild, unpredictable thing. Remember me, forget my fate. It’s this drama, the constant rediscovery and redelivery of a familiar, worked-over, oft-repeated tune that defines Jeff Buckley’s work. Like his voice, each song defies an original genre or mood, turning back to a more primal source. Is it a lament? A mockery? A strange self-issued prophecy from a man who, two years later, would walk into the Wolf River in Memphis, TN and drown? Like many of his other performances, this one (a set at the 1995 Meltdown Festival in the UK) now only exists on the web, maybe even on fragments of a video somewhere. Had Jeff Buckley lived past the age of 30, it might have remained among the other, less-than-perfect detritus of a long and successful career. But when the talented die young, we like to watch their home videos. Their unprotected moments. Their failures, blow-ups, fuck-ups. Anything that might give us clarity about their end: what “brought them to this point.” Short of simply accepting that it was death that did Buckley in, we might say it was the success that got him.

Only four years earlier, Jeff had sung in public for the first time, at a tribute concert for his estranged father Tim Buckley. They had met once, when Jeff was eight, after one of Tim’s shows; two months later, Tim overdosed on heroin. Neither Jeff nor his mother Mary Guibert were invited to the funeral. When Jeff stepped onto the stage at Saint Ann’s in Brooklyn to sing Tim’s “I Never Asked to Be Your Mountain”, most people weren’t aware that Tim had a son, and most people who knew Jeff didn’t know he could sing — he’d patented himself, stubbornly, as a guitarist — so the evening unveiled not only Jeff’s vocal talent but also exactly where it had come from. This pissed Jeff off. If anything, he had hoped to use the brief set as his way of paying his respects, of breaking away from Buckley senior. Years later, when a fan shouted a request for one of Tim’s songs, Jeff looked her straight in the eye and said, “I don’t play that hippie shit.”

Jeff escaped Anaheim, CA, where he’d been born, leaving behind what he described as a “rootless trailer trash” existence. He’d been struck by New York fever. Over the next year and a half, he played at coffee shops and nightclubs in Lower Manhattan, and eventually earned a regular Monday night slot at Sin-é in the East Village, accompanying himself on the guitar. He covered Bob Dylan. Nina Simone. Van Morrison. Singing “Sweet Thing” once, with Glen Hansard, a then still-obscure Buckley drew a crowd — so large that people began pressing up against the windows outside the club — by taking the second verse through a series of vocal gymnastics that lasted fifteen minutes. A brief writing streak with Gary Lucas resulted in two original songs, “Mojo Pin” and “Grace”, that Jeff nevertheless rarely played in his set. Lucas also invited Buckley to perform in his band, Gods and Monsters, early in 1992. By that time, however, the streets outside Sin-é were lined with record label executives hoping to snag Buckley for a solo album. That October, Buckley signed with Columbia, hired a drummer and bassist, and recording for what would be his first and only studio album, Grace, began the next summer. A quick EP, Live at Sin-é was released in November ‘93, documenting Jeff’s coffee-shop years, a time he’d long for intensely almost as soon as he left it. Jeff was not prolific; of the ten songs on Grace, he penned only three on his own. Lee Underwood, Tim Buckley’s guitarist, said once that Jeff suffered from an all too-relatable sort of creative inertia. “[He] felt uncertain of his musical direction, not only after signing with Columbia, but before signing, and all the way to the end. He did not know himself — which musical direction he might want to commit himself to, because taking a stand, making a commitment to a direction, or even to composing and then successfully completing the recording of a single song, was extremely difficult for him. One the one hand, creativity was his calling. On the other hand, any creative gesture that offered the possibility of success terrified him.” To speak nothing of the looming shadow of a father he never spoke of, to whom he was inevitably compared, as well as a sort of dogged perfectionism that plagued his studio sessions.

Spending hours, as he did, overdubbing the vocals until he had reached what he felt was the optimal delivery, Jeff seemed reluctant to pin any one mood onto his work. Andy Wallace, Grace’s producer, had to piece several of the songs together from dozens of takes. The music was in constant metamorphosis, to the point where later, live renditions of the songs sounded different, singular, wed to whatever Buckley had learned or felt or needed in between one performance and the next. He seemed to rewrite them each time. Grace is disparate, wavering between the almost cacophonous landscapes of “Mojo Pin”, “Grace”, “Last Goodbye”, and “Eternal Life”, the hushed, sacramental “Corpus Christi Carol”, and the desperate “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over”. Buckley alternately whispers or wails, seems to laugh and growl, shreds remarkably. The music is a story as emotionally complex as its author — calling it simply brooding or romantic minimizes its scope. In reality it is confused, mystifying, indecisive.

The album, like the EP preceding it, sold in a slow trickle. Jeff’s songs rarely made it to the airwaves. Critics were either charmed by its triumph or turned off by what, altogether, seemed to be a confusing melange of emotions and genres. The French loved it, though, and in 1995 awarded Jeff with the Grand Prix International du Disque, an honor he shared with the likes of Edith Piaf, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell, and Bob Dylan. David Bowie claimed that Grace was the one album he’d want with him on a desert island. Meanwhile, Jeff silenced restless crowds in concert halls across the globe with a few strums of his guitar, with a Buddhist-like opening chant called “Chocolate” that hushed chatter until you could hear a pin drop. Only then would he break into “Mojo Pin”. Putting Buckley’s cover of the Cohen song in a separate category — as I undoubtedly must — “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” is Grace’s masterpiece. Jeff introduced it first at Sin-é when he signed with Columbia, luring listeners who had previously doubted his ability to produce a decent song of his own. Back then it was just Jeff and his guitar, sans the divine harmonium intro, the swelling gospel choir, absolutely pure. Lyrically, it’s as seductive as it is sad — as Jeff escalates to “It’s never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder,” a tingle begins deep down. It’s as much the power of his voice as the power of his poetry. He chokes it out, like an old love letter he’s been forced to read aloud.

I will say this about “Hallelujah” — everything blooms from the single, conquered breath that opens it. Buckley is remembered for these quieter contributions, and appropriately so; in a way they serve as auto-epitaphs. An incredible mimic, he nails Nina’s voice during brief moments in “Lilac Wine” and rivals any choir boy with Britten’s “Corpus Christi Carol”, which had been introduced to him by a friend in high school. But it’s palpable anger that colors the rest of Grace, anger that Jeff would take with him on tour and into the beginnings of his second album, My Sweetheart, The Drunk. He butted heads with the bigwigs at Columbia when he refused to make a music video. He alienated friends, his photographer Merri Cyr, and some of his strongest supporters with careless words. Seamlessly integrated into his public image were frequent moments of conflict, uncertainty, and stubbornness, most of them related to his burgeoning fame, and almost always triggered by casual comparisons with the late Tim Buckley. When People Magazine nominated Jeff as one of their “50 Most Beautiful People” in 1995, something snapped. He dyed his hair black and stopped washing it. He wallowed, thin, in giant thrift-store plaid shirts and Doc Martens. On stage, Grace changed: “Buckley and the band were now playing harder, faster, and louder than ever before, transforming slow-burning epics — ‘Last Goodbye’, ‘So Real’, ‘Eternal Life’ and the title track — into rock and roll firestorms that bordered on the metallic. ‘Mojo Pin’ circa 1996 was almost unrecognizable: Buckley screamed so hard as the song built to its thunderous climax that you feared he’d cough up a vocal cord,” wrote Jeff Apter, one of Buckley’s biographers.

Touring took its toll on Jeff; he needed peace and quiet to work things out, to create, but the frenzy of the road worked up a hysteria in him. Once, in Ireland, he disappeared for a few hours in the afternoon and walked around singing and playing guitar in the pouring rain, skipping interviews and a sound check. Another time he arrived so drunk on stage he broke into a rendition of one of his father’s songs. Yet another time, wasted, he fell asleep underneath a table at a show in Manhattan. Another musician would have been thinking of giving the public a second album to chew on; Jeff was just trying to stay alive. Returning to New York in 1996 after two years on the road, he found the Village, which had once afforded him the comfortable hum of cappuccino machines, the safety of coffee shop anonymity, completely transformed. Sin-é had closed its doors. What few shows he did play, he had to advertise under pseudonyms. He needed a quiet spot, a shrine. So, in early ‘97, he went to Memphis. During the last few months of his life, Jeff Buckley lived in a shotgun house which he rented for a paltry $450 a month. He owned little more than a couch, a telephone, and a telephone book. What time he did not spend cycling back and forth from a Vietnamese restaurant he spent lying in the grass in his backyard, or at the butterfly exhibit at the Memphis Zoo. He played at a beer joint called Barrister’s, quietly. He recorded sketches of new songs on Michael Bolton cassettes that he’d picked up for pennies and sent them to his band in New York. My Sweetheart, The Drunk tremulously came together. On May 29th, the band flew into Memphis to begin recording. That night, Jeff sang Led Zeppelin as he waded into the river.

#jeff buckley #mystifying caucasian male #kara vanderbijl

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