#chicago was the first musical i saw and holds a special place in my heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kimburgess-ruzek · 3 years

Text

Shattered

chapter one: purgatory

summary: Intelligence had been through the worst of the worst trying to get one of their own back alive. Each member has been to their own personal hell. Will everyone make it back, or will the cracks in Intelligence be big enough for the entire team to shatter?

a/n: about that s9 speculation, yeah i’m going to make a fic out of it. if you want to beat around the bush and read the plot of the fic, it’s here. definitely new to writing so we’ll see how this goes! also, don’t know how to work a tag list, but if you want to be tagged, let me know!

t/w: mentions of trauma, gunshot wounds, assault, surgical procedures (which btw i made up, i’m not a medical expert)

read on ao3.

purgatory

“I think we should get married.”

six words. six of the most important words. Jay had the breath knocked out of him. He can’t understand what he was just asked. I think we should get married. Just a few months ago, Hailey wouldn’t even look into his eyes, much less say “I love you.” And a marriage proposal, that seemed pretty much impossible.

Jay looked into Hailey’s eyes. He saw past the tears and looked deeper. He saw sadness and fear, emotions not usually associated with an engagement. No, he saw something different. Hailey was different.

Jay cleared his throat, clearly stunned. “I—.” He tried to find words, find anything to respond. But he couldn’t. He cleared his throat and tried again to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Hailey noticed the hesitation and suddenly changed her demeanor. She tried to dry her tears as quickly as possible, wiping her eyes and running her hair through her hands. She then stopped Jay, interrupting whatever he was trying to express.

“You know what, never mind. Never mind. I— We need to go. We need to get to the hospital. See how Kim’s doing.”

Jay saw the sudden change and tried to reason with Hailey. He quickly found his words. “Wait, wait, wait. Hails. Is everything okay?” He asked while putting his hands on Hailey’s arms, stopping her from turning towards the door. He gently rubbed them, trying to soothe Hailey. However, it was to no avail; Hailey gently pushed herself away.

“No. No, we need to go. We need to see Kim. I need to see her. Let me go change and then we’ll leave, okay?” Hailey reassured Jay, nodding her head. Before Jay could respond, Hailey kissed Jay on the cheek and briskly walked to the room. She felt like she was suffocating in her clothes. She had worn them for almost two straight days, and she had been to hell and back in them. She needed to get out of them.

“Okay—“ Jay half yelled, wanting to make sure she heard him. He updated Will on his whereabouts and he let the rest of the team know he and Hailey were on their way to the hospital. Kevin replied that Kim was still in surgery. The doctor hasn’t given any updates but hopefully will soon. After about five minutes, Hailey walked out in a new pair of jeans and a different top. She quietly grabbed three granola bars, one for her to eat on the way and the others probably for Kevin and Trudy. Jay loved how thoughtful she was. She had her keys, purse, and jacket in hand and was heading for the door.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” Jay got up from the couch and followed Hailey out the door, turning off the lights on the way out.

The walk to the car and the drive to Med was really quiet. There was definitely tension in the vehicle; there wasn’t the comfortable silence that Jay and Hailey were used to. Hailey was focused on the road while Jay was focused on Hailey. She never looked back at Jay though, her eyes only on the road.

“Do you want to talk about what just happened—“ Jay started but Hailey quickly interrupted him.

“No.”

Jay took a breath and mumbled “okay.”

For the rest of the ride, you could’ve heard a pin drop in the car. No one talked and no one made any extra movement. Once Hailey found a parking spot in the parking garage, she turned the car off and took a long, hard breath, trying to gather her words. Jay was opening the door when Hailey grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“Look, Jay. I... Look I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be short with you.”

It’s okay,” Jay replied, trying to reassure her.

“No, it's more than that. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. At the apartment. I mean I love you, I do. I love you. And I think you’re decent. But not the other stuff. I just... It was just today. We almost lost our team member. We almost lost our friend, Jay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if we lost Kim. And I can’t think about it. If we did lose her. Because I don’t know if I could’ve forgiven myself. I don’t know if I could live with myself, thinking I could’ve done more. And at the apartment, I just saw someone that helped save my friend and I don’t want to lose you either, ever. And the emotions and no sleep and everything just got to me and I.. I. I don’t know. I don’t know. But.. Just don’t think about that question I asked earlier. Okay, Jay? Okay? It’s all good, I promise.”

Jay could clearly see Hailey was rambling. She was tired, no, she was exhausted, and she was backtracking. He was scared. He was scared that Hailey would retreat back to before, turned off from love. He hoped this experience didn’t make Hailey go back to being afraid of love. Of loving Jay. Because he loved Hailey. He loved everything about Hailey, from her seriousness when working a case to her humming along to the music she was playing in her earphones while pouring her coffee in the mornings. But there was also something else. Something that Jay couldn’t explain. Hailey was different, and not different because of what she explained. No, this was more than fear, more than desperation. This was a plea, almost a cry for help. And Jay didn’t know why. But he knew that something changed in her. Something happened when Voight split them up. And Jay knew he had to get to the bottom of it. Not for his sake, but for Hailey’s.

As much as Jay wanted to tell her he enjoyed the proposal, he knew she didn’t mean it. At least, he knew she didn’t want it for pure love. This wasn’t genuine. The love was, but the proposal wasn’t. This was a reaction to something. And as much as Jay would love to be engaged to Hailey Upton, he knew she wasn’t ready for it. And he knew she would regret it if the proposal went down like this. But he knew that he loved Hailey with all of his heart, and he was going to show that. As much as he wanted to say "yes," he was afraid of saying anything would just break her. So he went along with Hailey at the moment, and he decided he was going to try again later.

Jay put his free hand to Hailey’s cheek, wiping a stray tear. “Hailey, I love you. I love you so much. And that’s not going to change. Ever. I will do whatever you want to do and are comfortable doing. Now, let’s go check on Kim. Does that sound good?”

Hailey relaxed into Jay’s hand and closed her eyes. This was the first time she had relaxed in hours. After a pause, she nodded and left Jay’s hold. She opened the car door, and they walked towards the hospital entrance to hear the fate of their friend’s life. They walked into the unknown.

Med was covered in blues. Police of all ranks and districts filled the waiting room. It was so packed, Kim would be embarrassed. She wouldn’t want to be the center of attention. But she needed the love. She needed the support, and when one of their own has fallen, everyone’s going to be there to help pick them back up.

Hailey and Jay quickly spotted Kevin and Trudy in their blackout gear. Kevin had his bloody vest lying on the floor next to him. His bloody vest that was Kim’s blood from where he held her so tight, trying to stop any bleeding if it would do any good. Trudy was sitting in a chair and Kevin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder and his phone to his ear. He wasn’t talking, but his phone was still to his ear.

Trudy wasn’t speaking either. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find any reason to have small talk. Or deep talk. She just couldn’t find anything to say. All she could do was just think, and run her mind to the ground worrying about Kim.

Kim held a very special place in Trudy’s heart. She was different from any other officer that Trudy has had. Kim has this pluckiness to her. She had a different attitude when it came to policing. And as much as Trudy berated her in front of the 21st, as much as Trudy picked on Kim and made her work overtime and made her run the extra mile, she loved Kim. She loved that green rookie with big brown eyes that walked in on the first day with a smile and a donut. She loved the woman who stayed in the district despite her failed relationship. She loved the woman who kept fighting when she kept getting knocked down. Kim had to have the biggest heart Trudy had ever known a police officer to have. Whether that be because of all of the hardship she has dealt with in the police academy or the lack thereof while growing up Trudy didn’t know. And to be quite frank, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she wanted to protect that big heart of Kim’s. She had to because Kim was the reason why a city like Chicago has hope. Kim brought light to a city of darkness. She brought ambition to a city of despair. No matter what the case was, Kim put all of her knowledge and energy into that case. She not only did that, but she cared for the people in the case. Hell, she even cared for some of the suspects, damn it. That’s how big Kim’s heart was. That's how big Kim's heart is. And now, that big, gullible, genuine heart has to fight for its life. It had to put itself in a position to be saved and it has to endure hours upon hours of surgery. So no, Trudy could not find any words to say.

Hailey and Jay walked up to Kevin and Trudy and gave solemn grins. Trudy found the strength to stand up and hug both Hailey and Jay. She held onto Jay a little longer, whispering ever so quietly “Thank you.” Jay patted Trudy’s back as a welcome, trying not to cry from the images of Kim handcuffed in that Buick resurfacing. After what seemed like a century, Trudy let go and sat back down. Hailey hugged Kevin and she and Jay stood with them.

Hailey then dug into her bag and pulled out a portable phone charger and handed it to Kevin.

“I thought you might need this.”

“Thanks, Hailey. Ruz would appreciate it.” Kev kindly took the charger and plugged it into his phone. He was glad because his phone was surely dying but he wanted to give Adam all of the updates as that were coming in.

“How’s Makayla?” Jay asked, crossing his arms.

“Uh, she’s good. She’s good. Adam told her that Kim had to work late, so she’s good. She remembered Adam and wasn’t scared. She fell asleep on the couch but Adam moved her to her bedroom.” Kevin tried to find any facts to answer Jay's question. He replied before listening to Adam say something over the phone.

“Yeah, Hailey and Jay are here... No, no updates yet... Yeah, man... The docs said the surgery would be pretty long.” Kevin answered over the phone.

“I spoke to the Commander. Intelligence isn’t getting any new cases until Kim pulls through.” Trudy stated, looking up at Jay and Hailey who nodded. They both thought it was rather respectful of the commander.

Trudy turned her attention towards Hailey, asking, “Did you or Hank find anything about Roy?”

With that question, Kevin looked at Hailey too. He chimed in, “Yeah did you catch any leads? Do you know where Voight is? Trudy has tried calling, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

All eyes were on Hailey, who quickly became flustered and at a loss for words. Does she tell the truth? Hell no. Not right now at least. Not until she gets to the bottom of what Voight did with the body. What does she tell them? She hung her mouth open, not knowing what to say. Jay noticed Hailey’s nerves and tried to calm her by putting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. This made Hailey refocus, and she mustered up an answer.

“I, uh. No. No. And I don’t know where Voight is.” Hailey could barely get her Sergeant’s name out of her mouth. She tried her best to sound casual and honest, and it must’ve worked. Either that or everyone was so exhausted and stressed that they didn’t press any further.

Will Halstead pushed his way through the waiting room and joined the team.

“Hey, no word yet. I just talked to one of the nurses. Just said they’re still in surgery.” Will said. He tried to press for news. Anything, but he was shot down. Hopefully, this was just because they were in a rush and not because they had bad news, which is what Will does but didn't want to believe was the situation now. When Jay told him of Kim's injuries, Will, as a doctor, was shocked she even had a pulse. Her injuries were severe and traumatic, and she spent almost 24 hours bleeding. But Will dare not say his thoughts to Intelligence. No. He didn't want to break any of their hope. And Kim was going to need all of the hope she could get if she was going to pull through.

The team just nodded and settled in. Not one of them was going to leave until they received news about their member. So they waited.

It was 8:03 am. The sun was peaking through the blinds covering the windows. It has been 10 hours. 10 long hours. Some of the police officers left for their shift. Most stayed, camping out in their chairs. Some slept on the floor. Some were called to a scene where they handled it and immediately came back to the hospital. Hailey, Jay, Kevin, and Trudy rotated between two seats, allowing each person to catch a little bit of sleep. But in reality, none of them could get more than a few minutes of rest before the memories of the previous 36 hours crept into their minds, jolting them alert and awake. But they all stayed in that waiting room. In purgatory. No matter how scared, how sad they were, they all remained brave. Trudy and Jay tried calling Voight a couple of times only to realize he wasn't coming. They passed it off to be overwhelming. They thought Hank couldn't fathom hearing any bad news about Kim in person. Either that or he was somewhere, swallowing down liquor like he did when Al passed. But they didn't leave. They couldn't leave. They just had to hope the Sergeant wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be doing.��

Kevin stayed on the phone until about 3 am before Adam told him he was going to try to sleep so he could take Makayla to school the next day. Adam woke up at 6 but got the same luck as the rest of his team. He didn’t really get much of actual rest. But he woke up, got ready, fixed breakfast, woke Makayla up, got her ready, drove her to school while singing her favorite songs, and was back on the phone with Kev and heading to Med before 7:45.

Will kept coming in and out of the waiting room. He would periodically try to get information but was shut down every time. Nevertheless, he kept trying. He kept pushing for Intelligence. For Kim.

Suddenly, a doctor scrubbed and dressed in surgical gear stepped foot into the waiting room and everyone immediately woke each other up and sprang to their feet. Kevin told Adam the surgeon was here and put his phone on speaker. The surgeon walked straight to Intelligence and the other officers turned towards the team, waiting for the news. No one moved. No one blinked. Everyone studied the surgeon, trying to pick up on any cues before he spoke. Everyone held their breath. Everyone waited for the update.

After a long breath, the surgeon started pouring words.

“Officer Kim Burgess experienced severe head trauma, assault, shoulder strain, and two shots to the abdominal region. It was clear she lost a lot of blood, and when we got into surgery, it was much worse. She had a dislocated right knee, so we set it in place. The through-and-through shot didn’t do any internal damage so we patched it right up. The other one that never exited was lodged two inches to the right of her left kidney. If it were to hit it, she would have experienced kidney failure and gone into shock shortly after getting hit. Luckily, that didn’t happen. We were able to extract the bullet with as minimal damage as could be done. She had some pieces of glass lodged in her arms and we were able to get them out. She experienced head trauma. We checked, and she was bleeding internally in the brain. Left untreated, it could have lead to developmental setbacks, blood clotting, or death. However, it must’ve started only a little before she arrived here. This was likely due to her staying calm under pressure and subconsciously keeping her head in the correct position. She lost a lot of blood and had a low BP. She lost a pulse after we tried to stop the bleeding, but she was resuscitated after the first try. We did everything we could, and we did a lot. She made it out of surgery. She’s critical, but she’s stable.”

With that, everyone let out the breath that they were holding and erupted with such emotion. Some celebrated, hugging and shaking hands with each other. Some clapped and yelled in happiness. Some stood there in awe, in shock, in disbelief. Hailey dropped her head in her hands and started sobbing. Kim’s alive. She’s alive. Jay let out an excited expression and high-fived Will before engulfing a shaky Hailey in a huge hug. Trudy just let out a loud, deep sigh of relief. She immediately pulled the surgeon in for a hug. She knew Kim would pull through. Kim’s a fighter. She was going to push through. Kevin had big tears in his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. As much as he tried to be optimistic, he saw Kim with his own two eyes. He saw her and could only imagine what kind of torturous hell she went through. He knew Kim was strong, but this. This situation looked bleak. And as much as he tried not to believe that he held on to Kim during her dying breaths, he just didn’t know if Kim could pull through. He didn’t know if anyone could have pulled through with those injuries. But she did. Kim’s alive. After Kevin caught his breath he put his phone to his ear and checked on Adam.

“You heard that, brother?”

All he heard back were deep breaths and sobs.

“She’s okay. She’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay.” Kev heard Adam whispering in between his cries. He didn’t hear a direct answer from Adam but he knew he heard the surgeon. Kev followed suit and replied, “She’s gonna be okay. She's gonna be okay, bro.”

The surgeon cleared his throat and the waiting room quieted down, listening to what else he had to say.

“They’re wrapping up on Officer Burgess now. She will have a brace on her knee to keep it in place. She’s cut and bruised, and she’ll likely have a concussion. We’re giving her blood and we’ll continue for the next few days along with antibiotics to treat any infections from the warehouse. She’s sedated. We’re going to try to ease her awake but she’s a fighter. So she’ll probably wake up by tonight. She’ll be transferred to a private ICU after she’s out of surgery. She’s been to hell and back, and she has a hell of a recovery to go, but she’s alive.”

The waiting room erupted again in relief and celebration. The surgeon hugged and shook hands with all of the officers, including Intelligence. He then left the room to allow the policemen to celebrate.

Intelligence just looked at each other. They didn’t jump up and down or screamed to the rooftops. No, they were too tired for that. But also it was a different kind of energy. 48 hours ago, they were at each other’s throats. Each one of them had a different idea on how to solve this case. On how to get Kim back. Each one of them had hit their breaking point. Each one of them had been to their own hell. And some of them hadn’t made it back yet. And while Kim was fighting back from her hell, while she was fighting for her life, the team came together. They rallied together for their team member, for their friend. They had to come together in order to give Kim that energy. That strength in order for her to make it out on the other side. But that was temporary, and the team knew that. Now, after Kim has made it, the team doesn't know how to feel. They didn’t know what to do. And just because they got what they wanted — they got Kim back and they got her back alive — it doesn’t mean everything that just happened is dropped. It doesn’t mean everything, every word can just be forgotten. No, it just means things get taken off pause.

Intelligence had a lot of work to do. It had a long road ahead of them. The question is: will everyone make it out unscathed? Or will someone crack, leading Intelligence to be shattered?

45 notes · View notes

julieloveupstead · 3 years

Text

"So Happy and So Grateful and in Love" - Part 2

Decription: The best day in their lifes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prov Hailey:

We decided to get married on the Greek island of Zakynthos because of my background. Jay is very interested in Greek history and even asks me to learn the language, which is sweet of him. This is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him. The fact that he wanted to learn every little detail about me and now the place where I was born is amazing. Even just thinking about those tiny details in which pure love from his side spoke, tears come to my eyes. I closed my eyes for the hundredth time not to spoil the makeup that Stella put on me a few minutes ago and breathed in the fresh Mediterranean air. I was thankful that we weren't getting married in a church in Chicago with lots of guests, but with some of the closest people in our lives in Greece outside in front of such a beautiful view of the sea. I can't believe this is actually happening, that in a few minutes I will stand in front of the man who is my everything, my anchor, my rock, my peace and my soulmate and vow to love him to the grave.

- Are you all right Goldilocks? - I heard the question, so I opened my eyes and met the brown eyes of desk Serge

desk who has always been a role model for me for so many years and was like a mom to me. I owed so many things to Trudy Platt and I could not even imagine missing her on the most important day of my life. I gave her a sincere and grateful smile and she returned the favor which is something very special about her and something that doesn't happen very often which makes me feel even more special that I am one of the few who can see the other side of her.

- It's all right Serge - I wiped a tear that ran down my cheek. - Stella is going to murder me, this is the fourth time she has to fix my make up. - I joked and we both laughed.

- It's true - admitted Platt. We stood in silence for a moment, staring at the view in front of us. - Hailey, I know I'm not always nice and pleasant, and I'm not often complimentary, but I'm very proud of you as a beautiful, confident woman. I am happy to be a part of your transformation. - She looked at me with tear-stained eyes. Damn, this is the first time I've seen our sergeant like this. - Hailey you know I never had the chance to have a child, but I wish I had a daughter like you - unfortunately Kidd is going to kill me because I cried again, damn. I didn't know what to say to those words so I just decided to give a big hug to the woman who saved my life many years ago, who gave me purpose in life.

- Serge, you don't even know how much your words mean to me," my voice was breaking, but I kept talking. - I love my mother, but many events in the past have made my relationship with her far from a mother-daughter relationship and I have come to terms with that, but then you came along and you are not very patient - I prefer not to risk her anger even on my wedding day. - but I feel like I have a better relationship with you than I did with my birth mother. I am grateful to you for so many things. I wish my mother was like you, Trudy, and you don't know how much it means to me that you're here. Platt pulled me close, and I snuggled into her. I don't know how long we stood there, but we only pulled away when we heard a quiet grunt from somewhere on the side. I looked in that direction and saw Will standing there with a big smile and Vi standing to the side of him with a bouquet of flowers for me.

- Hailey remember that if you tell anyone about this I will deny everything - I looked at the Sergeant, who was deadly serious.

- Copy you - I nodded, and in a moment she was no longer with me.

- Are you ready? - asked Vi coming up to me together with Will. I nodded as a sign that I was ready. - Here - she handed me a bouquet of white and pale pink roses. I took it and leaned over to smell it.

- Well good, because I can hear the bells starting to ring already - Vanessa said with a smile, gave me a kiss on the cheek and walked away leaving me with Jay's brother.

- Hailey

- Will

we said at the same time and burst out laughing.

- Speak first - he showed me to start.

- Okay, so I wanted to thank you for trusting me with Jay, I promise I'll never hurt him and thank you for accepting me into your family - I wanted to say something else but my voice started to break again. Damn this was supposed to be my happiest day ever and I wasn't supposed to cry and today I'm doing nothing but crying. Ehh.

- Oh Hailey it is my honor to have you become a member of our family of two. - He laughed confidently at the memory - For many years me and Jay didn't have a good relationship. We both did a lot of stupid things. Jay changed completely after his mom died, he and his dad got along badly, I left them both, and most of all what happened in Afghanistan, the thing with Erin and everything else caused Jay to come to darkness. I was afraid of losing him, another family member, my only family - I could see how much it was costing Will to revisit those bad memories. I didn't feel any better. Every time I recall the moment I meet his little brother. I realize how little we would have missed having Jay with us. - Ehh - Will wiped a quick tear running down his cheek. My eyes welled up with tears too, once again. Damn, how much can you cry? - And then you showed up and everything changed. My brother finally saw that there was something to fight for. I got my brother back. Smiling, full of life, and it's all because of you, Hailey. - I tried really hard to keep the tears from flowing, but I couldn't. All I could do was hug Will tightly. - We have to go now," I pulled away from him when I heard the wedding music play. I hurriedly wiped away the tears that were streaming down my cheeks and nodded because that was all I could say. Will gave me his arm, which I accepted, and we both walked slowly down the aisle.

As I walked I loved the smiling faces of not friends, but family. And never before have I been so grateful for them as I am now. Being here I realized how lucky I was and that after all the years of hell I had been through fate was finally smiling down on me and something inside me told me that this was just the beginning. When I stood next to Jay and looked into his eyes I saw glassy green eyes and in them was infinite love.

- Are you okay? - I read the question from his gaze and nodded in response. Even after six years, I can't get over how much he cares about my well-being, my opinion. I'm not exaggerating here to say that he treats me like a princess. How did I ever deserve this man?

- Well," began the priest, to whom I turned my attention. - We have come here to witness these two people in love pledging their love to each other until the grave. Looking at them, I don't need to know them personally to know that the feeling they have for each other is unique and unprecedented. You, since you are here, probably feel the same way, and since you know them better than I do, you will agree that they love each other very much, and today's ceremony is just the icing on the cake of their relationship. - He paused so the guests could nod their heads in agreement. - Now it was time for the bride and groom to take the floor. Hailey will you begin?

Oh my gosh, I can feel my throat tightening and now all the guests have gone quiet, even though the ceremony is outdoors, I can't hear anything but the sound of the sea behind me. I breathed deeply a few times to calm down my thoughts and to be able to form coherent sentences. I would like to say so much to him, to express how much I love him, but I am afraid that I will not find the words to express how much I love him and how much he means to me. I hope that what I say now will be enough.

- Where do I begin here? Ehh. When we first met in that bank we were at a completely different stage of life, but by some miracle we caught a connection. I immediately noticed that underneath the mask of a closed off, uncompromising, former wtereran, cold and withdrawn was hiding a kind-hearted, sparring and sensitive man who had lost his way a bit and was broken by demons from his past. It was hard to get through your barriers and get you to trust me, but when it finally happened I was overjoyed. There were times I was scared for you and then my heart would break into little pieces because for some reason you were already close to me then. I, on the other hand, was no better. I didn't tell you much of my demons, but I always knew that if I had to share my story with anyone it would be you and only you. Because there's no one I trust more than you. From the first day I met you. And maybe it took four years, two gunshots, a kidnapping and my move to New York for us to understand, for me to understand that you are more than a work partner to me, more than a friend. So that I would have the courage to be in tune with my feelings, because our job really, I don't know when it could be our last day. When you met me I was, in fact I tried to be tough, strong, withdrawn and above it all. Life has thwarted me many times, since I was a child I had to learn to hold my head high and fight, I was broken, I healed many wounds, some new ones appeared but in the end thanks to your help I got back on my feet, wounds heal, although I still have a lot of work to do to fully recover but with you all the stages, this war for myself is easier. For years I did not allow myself to think that I could fall in love, that I would be standing in a wedding dress in front of a man whom I love, with whom I want to live my life and the thought of starting a family will germinate in my head. And this prospect, which only 6 years ago scared me, now I look forward to what the future will bring with you. - I finished. I let out a breath that I didn't even know I had been holding in. I was so offered by my monologue that I forgot about the presence of those gathered. I wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks and looked at Jay, who had a look of boundless love in his eyes, and the tears streaming down his cheeks were going into oblivion. I can't ever get over how much love this boy has for me. It's impossible to comprehend how special it makes me feel.

- Okay, now it's my turn," he grunted, his smile always reserved for me, full of love and something I couldn't name until now. - I've never been good at saying what I feel, but I'll try now - he joked - You came into my life unexpectedly, at the worst time of my life, when I didn't care about anything. I was falling into a black abyss, but every day I came out of it. At first I didn't know why your opinion mattered the most to me, why every thought was about you, why everything I did was with you in mind. I'm a veteran of the military for me jumping into the fire of bullets, entering into different dangerous situations was not a problem before, I did it with my eyes closed, but since the battle in that tunnel those 4 years ago after my death, when I saw your face, scared and broken, something changed in me. I wasn't so willing to risk anymore, in some strange way you made me want to be more careful, but then this thing with Angela came up and then I realized I had to fight just for you, I wanted so much to see your beautiful ocean blue eyes, a smile that is the most beautiful and wonderful I have ever seen and heard. You are the first thought and the last. I'm in love with you like crazy, I can't think, sleep, eat and function normally and only when you left for New York it came to me that I can't and don't want to lose you. Everyone but you. You don't even know how much it means to me and maybe it's selfish of me, but I'm overjoyed that you chose me, that you honored me with the chance to get close to you and I promise that you will never regret it. I will spend every hour, minute and second to bring a smile to your face, tears, but only those of happiness and I will do everything to make you happy, because only you matter to me. I love no one more in my life than I love you and our baby - his gaze fell on my belly. That's how I took the test yesterday and it turned out that under my heart is the fruit of our, my and Jay's love. He was by my side every step of the way from buying the test to the result. He was so happy and I was with him. Now we are going to be a real family. The three of us. - The two of you are my world and will be my world to the end of my life," he finished.

My heart stopped with love, I've never heard such beautiful words and every time I think I can't love him more it always turns out how wrong I was. Jay let go of my hand that he had been holding and used his thumb to gently wipe away the tears from my cheek. At this gesture I closed my eyes to completely surrender to the feel of his warm skin on my cheek.

- Now it's time for the bride and groom to exchange their wedding rings," said the priest, who I had forgotten about a few minutes before, just like the rest of the people in the church. - I'll ask the best man to give them to me. - Mouse took a small maroon square box from his jacket pocket and handed it to the clergyman, who took it. - Please - he opened the item and waited for us to take one each. I turned the ring over and noticed that they were engraved with "I'll folow you anywhere" our password in Jay's handwriting. I looked at Jay' who just smiled widely at me which I reciprocated. I shook Jay's hand, he caught it gently as if I was made of the most fragile piece of glass. Little gestures like that make me smile all the time.

- I'll folow you anywhere - he said, slipping the ring onto my ring finger.

- I'll folow you anywhere - I repeated after him.

- Now the bride and groom can kiss each other - and without any delay we both joined our lips in a kiss and even though we have exchanged these kisses from millions each one was special and so is this time.

- I love you Jay - I said as I pulled away from him.

- I love you Hailey - he said and kissed me again.

Nothing else mattered, just him, me, and this little life that was beginning to grow inside me. Whatever the future held for us it would always be me, him and our baby until the end of the world and one day more.

#upstead fic #upstead #hailey upton #jay halstead #jay x hailey

16 notes · View notes

lasting-inkpressions · 3 years

Text

Oasis (1/2)

Summary: When they were alone, she couldn’t stop herself from constantly wanting to touch her, as if to make sure she wasn’t just a fever dream. Just a brush of her fingers here, a tap of her shoulder there, hands holding her waist, thighs pressing against each other. Denali was a like a drug that Rosé never wanted to give up.

And yet she had to.

Note: I just had to write this and get it out of my system. I don’t know if it’ll have smut in the end, but we’ll see.

Prefer reading it on AO3?

Rosé gripped the steering wheel as Denali hummed along to the radio next to her, oblivious to the thoughts racing through the other girl’s head. They were heading to The Blu Lagoon on Rosé’s night off for a night of dancing, something that the both of them loved to do. It was their love for music and dance that had first brought them together, Rosé having first been attracted to the way Denali had moved on the dance floor without a care in the world, ignoring all the lustful stares on her and just moving to the beat.

Denali had been new to New York, moving from Chicago to train with a new ice skating coach. It was a cold chilly night of just exploring the night life when she had chanced upon The Blu Lagoon. The bouncer, Kandy, had let her in with just a wink when she had stood staring at the bright fluorescent lights spelling out the name of the club slash bar, letting her completely bypass the line, and she was soon engulfed in the magical world that was The Blu Lagoon. The swirling lights of blue, pink and purple and the disco like dance floor drew her almost like a moth to a flame. She had gone to the bar first and ordered a few shots from the bartender, who’s name tag read “Joey”, before finally stepping onto the dance floor. It was there where she finally felt as if she had found a place where she could call home.

With the rhythm pounding and the beat thrumming about, Denali began to sway to the music, eyes closed as she let the music wash over her. She felt hands reach for her, but she easily danced out of their reach, not wanting anyone to disturb the peace that she had finally found. It had been a struggle for the past few days trying to fit into a city that felt so different and foreign. The people were different, cultures and mannerisms almost unknown to her, and she had worried if she’d ever find her footing, but there in that moment, one thing was for certain: music was her ground zero.

The music started to ebb after a while, and the sound of a live band began to come on. Opening her eyes, Denali spun around before her eyes finally landed on the stage where three women stood before a live band, microphones at the ready as they started to speak, introducing themselves as Stephanie’s Child. Her eyes traced their faces, clocking the pastel and bright coloured hair before settling on the one on the right. She had thick pink curls pulled into a high ponytail and had introduced herself as Rosé, and in that moment, Denali knew there was something special about her. When the girls began to sing, Denali closed her eyes again and let the music and their voices take over, guiding her movements. She soaked in their sound as the music took over her, their voices seeming to caress her very skin. Opening her eyes once more, dark brown eyes met hazel ones, and a fire seemed to envelope her. Smirking, she carried on moving to the music. Denali broke eye contact and spun around, back to the stage, but very much aware of the eyes burning holes into her back.

When their set had ended, Denali had gone back to the bar to order a drink, her skin now damp with sweat from how much energy she had expanded while dancing. She perched herself on a stool, sipping her drink, a simple glass of rum and coke to cool her down, when she felt a presence next to her. Turning her head, she watched as Rosé ordered a drink for herself from Joey before turning to face her, a lopsided grin on her face.

That very night, Rosé had brought Denali home and fucked her through the night. She remembered the nips to her throat, the wet slide of skin on skin and the broken moans being fucked out of her, her hips and thighs blooming with finger shaped bruises. The next morning, Rosé had woken her up with kisses and her fingers and orgasms while Denali whimpered, oversensitive and thoroughly fucked out. She had left her place with shaky legs and Rosé’s phone number saved in her phone, and the rest was history.

It had been a whirlwind of a few months, with romantic dates, shared kisses and relentless love making. The chemistry between them had been explosive, and even though Rosé wasn’t quite ready to put a label to whatever it was that they had, Denali didn’t mind because at the end of the day, it was her arms that kept her safe and sound.

New York was now her second home. Jan and Lagoona felt like her own sisters with how often she was over at their place. She’d made friends with the other people at the bar, Kandy and Joey being the first, then Tamisha later on. She’d learned that the sisters were the owners of the bar, and that Tamisha was the one who ran the day to day operations. Denali had even started to get to know Olivia, one of the other skaters that was also training under Utica, her new coach. Life in New York was finally settling for her, and she was happy.

What Denali hadn’t known was that Utica had been talking to Rosé.

Rosé had been happy too with how their relationship had been progressing. She had fallen for the spirit and fire that Denali had exuded on the dance floor, and the more she got to know her, the more she felt herself falling deeper and deeper. Rosé loved how Denali seemed to embody life itself. She was always so full of passion and energy, and it was especially obvious when she was on the rink, blades cutting the ice and body fluid in her movements as she moved from trick to trick. Rosé had been so enamoured with everything that was Denali that she couldn’t imagine her life without the ice princess. Her ice princess.

Sometimes the overwhelming feelings that she felt for the other girl scared her, feeling her own happiness hinging more and more onto her. Before Denali had come into her life, Rosé had been perfectly happy being her strong independent self. Sure, she had flings here and there, but none of them seemed to compare to the blonde. Rosé wanted to keep Denali to herself, wanted to keep her locked up in a cage so that no one else could have her, so that she could have her all to herself, afraid to lose her.

When they were alone, she couldn’t stop herself from constantly wanting to touch her, as if to make sure she wasn’t just a fever dream. Just a brush of her fingers here, a tap of her shoulder there, hands holding her waist, thighs pressing against each other. Denali was a like a drug that Rosé never wanted to give up.

And yet she had to.

Rosé had been watching Denali during one of her practices at the rink, watching her warm up on the ice before going through the motions of her routine when Utica had approached her, sitting next to her. They had watched Denali skating on the ice for a bit before Utica began to talk. She was saying how Rosé was starting to become a distraction, and that before she had come around, Denali had been completely dedicated to the ice. Now with Rosé in the picture, her focus had wavered, and her chances of being able to make it to the nationals were looking slimmer with each passing day. Rosé felt herself grow numb as Utica continued, saying how Denali was destined for great things, that the world was her oyster, but how could the world be hers if she was tethered here?

It was like a slap to the face as Rosé processed what Utica was saying. That she was holding her back.

That Rosé was the one keeping Denali away from her dreams.

Utica had patted her on the shoulder, giving her one last meaningful look as she walked back to the rink to Denali, and Rosé knew that Denali had never been hers to keep.

As Rosé pulled up into the parking lot behind The Blu Lagoon, she killed the engine and sat in silence, unsure of how to broach the topic. If she didn’t speak now, she was afraid that she’d never let Denali go. Taking a deep breath, she turned to look at Denali, feeling herself die a little as the blonde looked back at her, eyes bright and lips stretched into a smile.

“Denali, what are we doing?” Her smile faltered, and Rosé felt her heart clench, already second guessing what she was about to do. “What do you mean, Rosie?” Rosé took a deep breath. She could do this, this was for Denali’s own good. She had to severe this thing between them before she was too far gone and wouldn’t be able to let her go.

“I mean what are we doing together? You shouldn’t be with me, and yes, it’s been fun and it’s been nice, but I think…” Rosé paused, her heart clenching as she saw Denali’s lower lip tremble. Could she really go through with this? Could she really break her heart?

“But you think what, Rosie?” Swallowing hard, Rosé continued. “I think we should end this.”

There was a deafening silence as Rosé looked to the front, refusing to meet Denali’s gaze. “…what?” She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding as her hands clenched into fists. She couldn’t take it back anymore, now that it was finally out there in the open. A beat later, she felt Denali’s hand on her clenched fist. She bit the inside of her cheek as she fought not to take hold of Denali’s hand.

“Rosé, look at me.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Rosé looked at Denali, and her heart stilled as tear filled brown eyes looked back at her.

“I love you, Rosé. I love you, and I know that you love me too.”

Shaking her head, Rosé whispered back as she tore her eyes away from Denali’s face. “You’re wrong.” She felt Denali’s hand on hers tighten, fingers shaking.

“I don’t believe you. Rosé, look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me.”

Rosé shut her eyes, swallowing hard. She could do this. She had to do this. It was for her own good. She looked back at Denali, the tears in Denali’s eyes now falling, her lips trembling as if silently pleading with her.

“I don’t love you, Denali.”

There was a stillness in the air, and time seemed to tick at a glacial pace before Denali finally moved her hand, sniffing as she wiped her tears away. She moved to get out of the car when Rosé stopped her. “Wait, let me take you home.” Denali laughed bitterly, turning to look at Rosé, eyes almost devoid of any life.

“I don’t know what makes you think that I’m going home now. I came here to dance, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. You can go home if you want to, but I’m staying right here.”

Denali opened the door and slammed it shut behind her, walking away from Rosé and back to the dance floor that she knew and loved.

————————————————————————

I swear this will end well.

#rosenali #rpdr fanfiction #oasis fic #inkpression writes

7 notes · View notes

muse539 · 4 years

Text

We Don’t Know What’s Out There

So my friend M is a bad (fantastic) influence, and when I shared an instagram post that was basically a prompt with them, they encouraged me to write it. So, I did. Read it on Ao3!

Summary: While Mike Newton is waiting for the semester to start at his Sacramento college, he finds himself turning to the TV show "Ghost Adventures" to keep himself entertained. He knows it's all fake, of course. At least, he thought he did, until he finds himself looking at a familiar face.

....

“The ghost we’re hunting tonight is Edward Anthony Masen Jr. He was a patient at this Chicago hospital during the Spanish Influenza in 1918, until he vanished without a trace.”

"Is that... Cullen?"

After finally, mercifully, at last leaving Forks in early August, Mike Newton found himself without much to do. His parents had insisted that he move down to Sacramento before the semester started.

That would make sense, except that the semester didn’t start for three weeks, and Mike was bored out of his skull.

So, like anyone might in his situation, he turned to the TV to occupy his time. It was a small thing, but it would get the job done.

Huh, wonder what’s this about, Mike thought, pausing his rapid flipping on five guys in a dark hallway, decked out in night vision equipment. The banner in the bottom of the screen said “Ghost Adventures.”

“Elizabeth, speak to us, ” one of them said, holding out a radio.

Huh. Might as well see what this is about.

---

It was a quiet evening in the Cullen house. Renesmee was visiting Jacob on the reservation, much to Edward’s chagrin.

“If you keep frowning like that, your face might get stuck that way.” Bella used her thumb to smooth out the skin between her husband’s eyebrows before cupping his cheek. Bella didn’t like being away from Renesmee any more than Edward did, she was just better at hiding it.

Edward sighed, leaning into Bella’s hand.

Dude, you’re pathetic.

Edward shot a glare in Emmett’s direction before meeting Bella’s eyes. “It’s hard, her being where we cannot.”

“I know.” Bella sighed. “At least we know Jake would protect her, if anything happened.”

“Hmm.”

---

Man! Who knew a communications class would be so hard! Mike turned away from his homework. Spring semester had been kicking his ass for weeks now.

At least he lived on his own. Mike couldn’t imagine what it would be like, having to share a room the size of a shoebox with another person. Especially since they probably wouldn’t let him watch his favorite show!

“Ghost Adventures” had pretty quickly become Mike’s latest fixation. He’s never missed an episode, a fact he is shamelessly proud of.

From the corner of his desk, his phone buzzed. Jessica, of course.

Mike has been trying to shake her off for months, to no avail. He sighed.

That’s it, that’s enough for today. Mike pushed away from his desk and turned on the TV. Ghost Adventures would be on soon.

---

“Don’t ‘hmm’ at me,” Bella smiled, “use your words.”

“Yeah, Edward, use your words .” Emmett guffawed.

“ That’s it.” Edward started to rise out of his seat, and Emmett happily took a defensive stance.

They launched at each other.

From upstairs, Esme’s voice rang out, “You boys better mind my furniture!”

---

A few miles away, in La Push, Jacob and Renesmee had just gotten back to Billy’s house. The Pack had gone cliff diving, and Renesmee insisted on attending, even if it gave Jacob a heart attack.

“I’m just as durable as you are,” she’s said, in that special way of hers.

“I know, I know. But you’re not even one yet, Nessie!” Nevermind that she was already the size of a 10-year-old at just 9, almost 10, as Nessie enjoyed reminding him, months old. “It’s the principle of the thing!”

Renesmee just pressed her desire into his skin harder. Jacob was powerless.

“Okay, okay!”

And so they’d gone. They had a fantastic time, once Jacob “got over himself,” as Seth has put it.

Now, they were nestled on Billy’s couch, flipping through the channels. Renesmee stopped him on one.

“Oh, Ness, you probably won’t want to watch this. It’s scary.”

There were questions in Nessie’s hands.

“It’s about ghost hunting. Or, at least, that’s what they think they’re doing. We both know ghosts don’t exist, but they play a lot of scary music, and they try to freak you out. Frankly, I think it’s kind of funn-”

“The ghost we’re hunting tonight is Edward Anthony Masen Jr. He was a patient at this Chicago hospital during the Spanish Influenza in 1918, until he vanished without a trace.”

Nessie’s hand pressed insistently to his cheek. “Daddy?”

Jake was in shock. “Uh, yeah. That’s your dad. Hold on-” he reached for his phone.

---

Breaking away from Emmett, Edward picked up his phone when it started to ring, heart sinking when he saw Jacob’s name.

“Jacob? Is everything okay?” Every eye in the room turned to Edward, each vampire holding their breath.

“Turn on Ghost Adventures right now! They’re talking about you!”

Bella had the TV on before Jacob finished speaking.

“ Will Edward be among the spirits we talk to here tonight?”

---

“The ghost we’re hunting tonight is Edward Anthony Masen Jr. He was a patient at this Chicago hospital during the Spanish Influenza in 1918, until he vanished without a trace. His parents, Elizabeth and Edward Masen Sr., were also patients, and their bodies were recovered.”

During Zak’s monologue, a blurry photo of the Masen family was shown. Mike dropped his hot pocket.

“Is that Cullen?”

---

Mike Newton watched the rest of the episode, growing increasingly nauseous with each passing minute.

The guy in the photos, Edward Anthony Masen, looks almost exactly like Edward Cullen. But there’s no way, right? Even if that Edward had survived the Spanish Flu, there’s no way he’d still be alive now. And even if he was , he wouldn’t look like Edward Cullen. He’d be a wrinkly old man!

Yeah, yeah, Mike told himself. There’s no way. That’s crazy though, Cullen is a dead ringer for that guy. Wow.

---

After that night, appearing on ghost shows became a bit of a running joke in the Cullen household. They had a white board set up behind the television, keeping tally. Given how often paranormal TV shows enjoy venturing into abandoned hospitals and psychiatric wards, Edward and Alice had the most marks, with Alice in the lead, to her unending delight.

One of Emmett’s favorite pastimes, whenever one of them appeared on an episode, was to sit in front of the TV shouting “they’re right here, you idiots!” and “boo!”

Renesmee erupts into giggles whenever he does it, so no one has asked him to stop.

---

Mike Newton has yet to move home from Sacramento. He’d visit Forks during school breaks, and stay for most of the summer, but he kept his apartment in Sacramento until he graduated.

Once it was time to move out, however, him never moving home for the summer came back to bite him.

“ How have I accumulated so much crap ?” Mike sighed as he looked over the haphazard piles of things he needed to shove into boxes. His parents would be here in a few hours with a trailer.

Resigned, Mike sighed and grabbed the first box.

He got distracted, naturally. He had found a box with old high school memories, and was laughing at a picture of himself and Bella “playing” volleyball in the yearbook.

Beneath the pile of yearbooks, there was a thick, nicely printed envelope addressed to him.

Huh. What’s this? Mike thought, as he pulled it out.

“This” was a wedding invitation. Bella’s, actually. Mike smiled. He wondered how she was doing, and resolved to check in with her when he got home.

Over the next few minutes, Mike found his eyes repeatedly straying back to the wedding invitation. Something about it was nagging at him, but he didn’t know what.

I mean, I’ve always thought it was weird how people put their full names on their invitations. Michael Welch Newton? No thank you. He shuddered, and his eyes strayed to the invitation once again. Isabella Marie Swan. That has a nicer ring to it, I guess. But Edward’s is a mouthful. Edward Anthony Masen Cu-

Mike paused. Why did that name sound so familiar? He pulled out his phone. This is probably a long shot . He typed Edward’s name into the search bar.

No results for ‘Edward Anthony Masen Cullen,’ two million results for ‘Edward Anthony Masen.’

Mike dropped his phone.

---

The banner stretching across the windows in the back of the house read “Happy Fourth Anniversary!”

Bella clasped her hands together, and silently thanked that she couldn’t blush anymore. “Aw! You guys are so sweet, thank you!”

“And of course, we have gifts!” Alice beamed at the couple, only Jasper’s hand in hers stopping her from bounding across the room to pull her siblings into a hug.

That, after all, was Renesmee’s job.

“Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!” Ness threw herself into her parents arms. Now almost 4-years-old, Renesmee was the size of a 16-year-old, but had a maturity far beyond her years.

Bella and Edward smiled at their daughter, and simultaneously pressed stone kisses to her flaming cheeks.

Soon after, Jacob’s pack arrived. Over the years, Leah had warmed to the Cullens considerably, though she still scrunched her nose for the first few minutes she was inside. She, Jacob, and Seth each greeted Edward and Bella with a scorching hug.

“Happy anniversary, guys!”

“Thanks, Seth.” Edward smiled while Renesmee went and claimed a couch for her and Jacob.

“Okay, gifts!” Alice flitted around the room. Bella sighed.

Jasper raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You should be proud she lasted this long, Bella.”

Bella laughed. “Yes, heaven forbid Alice learn restraint .”

“ Hey! ”

Bella stuck her tongue out at Alice, Emmett guffawed, Renesmee stifled her laugh in Jacob’s shoulder.

Alice bounced back towards and thrust an envelope into Bella’s hands. She opened the envelope and pulled out 4 plane tickets, round trip, to Ireland.

“Wow, Alice. Thank you, this is too much.” Bella stood and pulled her sister into a hug.

“Well, I wanted to make sure that it was a place that was cloudy enough for you all to go outside during the day, and also spoke English. As fantastic as your German is, Bella, I’m not sure how long you could survive.”

Bella playfully snarled at Alice; Alice cheerfully stuck out her tongue in response.

“I’m just glad you’re getting out of the country so we’re no longer in the blast radius of your hot, passionate -”

“Emmett!” Bella shot a glare in his direction before glancing at Renesmee.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

---

Mike Newton was only staying on the Cullen’s front porch out of sheer force of will. Hell, he was only standing out of sheer force of will. He’d barely slept the last few days, hell, months . Mike had become obsessed, reading everything he could about Edward Anthony Masen, which wasn’t much, and then about the Cullen family--which was somehow even fewer. No social media, no public marriage licenses. He’d found just enough to suggest they existed, not much more. He was no private investigator, but it still rubbed Mike the wrong way.

Dr. Cullen opened the door. “Mr. Newton! What brings you here? Are you alright?”

Mike tried not to throw up. “Yeah, uh, hi! Dr. Cullen. I, uh, well, here’s the thing,” he took a deep breath. “This is probably going to sound ridiculous. I think I’ve actually gone insane, lost it, like my gran. Ha ha! Yeah, uh.”

WIth each word, Dr. Cullen looked more and more concerned. Over his shoulder, Mike could see a ‘Happy Anniversary’ sign.

“So, um, if you could just confirm something for me real fast, that would be great. Spectacular really.”

“Of course, what do you need, Mike?”

The words rushed out of him. “If you could just tell me that Edward is not actually a ghost that somehow has a physical body that would be great.”

The man himself walked into Mike’s field of vision. “Ah, you saw the ‘Ghost Adventures’ episode too, did you? It’s amazing, how much we look alike. Edward Anthony Masen is a cousin of mine, on my biological father’s side.”

Mike blinked dumbly. “Oh. Huh. That, uh, makes a lot of sense. Huh. Okay. Um, thanks, I guess.”

“Of course.”

Smiling, Dr. Cullen closed the door.

---

“What the fuck was that ,” Jacob asked.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. “It seems, rather annoyingly, that Mike Newton is more clever than I gave him credit for.”

“This is dangerous, Edward,” Carlisle looked nervous. “These shows, and their digging into the past… people that have seen us are starting to recognize us.”

“Surely there is something we can do?” Esme placed a calming hand on Carlisle’s arm.

“You just saw it,” Alice chirped. “Play it off like we’re our own long-lost relatives. We’ve all seen it before; humans want to accept the most reasonable explanation.”

They lapsed into silence, lost in thoughts.

“Edward may want to lose the middle names, though,” Rosalie drolled.

“Yeah,” Leah scoffed. “Probably.” Renesmee laughed.

The tension broke, and their day resumed.

“So,” Jacob swung a fist and bumped Bella’s arm. “When do you want to go to Ireland, bestie?”

Bella groaned.

#twilight #mike newton #bella swan #edward cullen #ghost adventures #jacob black #renesmee cullen #alice cullen #fanfic

8 notes · View notes

chaoticoconut · 5 years

Text

BARBARA GORDON HEADCANONS THAT MAKE ME SWOON!!

(and so can you!! alfkvoekfndnej does anyone get that reference anyhoo)

I couldn't NOT post these idk I was showering and then I was hit with a mf tornado of hcs about my favorite gal and I figured I'd share :))))

Barbara and Tim are actually the most potty mouthed members of the batfam, excluding Kate. Jason is close, but only when he's upset (which probably seems trivial bc he's yk always upset but I hc him a pretty chill if not bitter and snarky guy). Tim cusses more when he's tired, but he consciously tries to bite his tongue. Barbara has no remorse and cusses very casually and openly, because she sees no point in abstaining. It releases endorphins guys. Duh. She uses those ridiculous "holy heck Batman!" lines as Batgirl unless she's genuinely thrown off her game. She limits her cussing a lot as Oracle bc she's not one to offend people, and you never know. It's most definitely a civilian thing for her, and anyone who knows Babs knows she's a fucking sailor.

Her favorite food of all time is pizza. Her dream house has a brick pizza oven. She has a food blog with every pizzeria in the greater Gotham area ranked from best to worst. Her favorite of all time is the Gotham Pizza Garden, which is located in Old Gotham near the police station. Technically it's the second best pizza in Gotham, second to Gargoyle Pie Company, which is renowned for being the epitome of Gotham-style pizza and is always busy. She has a lot of memories of GPG though, and loves both pies. GPG also has an incredible Chicago style pizza, which is her second favorite type of pizza. She does however believe Gotham style is superior and thinks less of Dick for disagreeing (@blanddcheadcanons tie-in heyo!!) Very few things make Babs as happy as gourmet pizza.

She grew up watching Teenage Mutant Turtles, Powerpuff Girls, and Star Trek. They all hold a very special place in her heart. There is totally a connection between her love of pizza and TMNT and turtles and mixed martial arts. She once got the boys to go as the turtles for Halloween, with her crushing it as April.

Speaking of turtles, she's had a pet turtle named after icon Nichelle Nichols since high school. Yes, she does call her Shelly. Yes it's cliche. No she does not care. She also has a calico cat named Cornflake that Dick gave her as a birthday present. She doesn't have pet dogs until she and Dick finally settle down. She never had them growing up because her father is allergic and her mother was a devout cat lady. She's not really sure why she never got any on her own, she's just more familiar with cats. After her mom passed away, she did get a bunch of bunnies whom she and JJ named after their favorite horror movie monsters and serial killers.

She loves slasher flicks. It's a family thing. JJ was creepy about it, Jim loves the thrill, Babs loves the mythos, and her mom was never really afraid of anything and found them funny.

She inherited her mother's love for baking. She left her her cookbook, which contains an amazing mixed berry pie recipe. Her pie baking abilities rival Alfred's. She even begins to branch out with her recipes and experiment with all sorts of fillings and even cake-pies (fanfic au tie-in heyo). Everybody loves a Barbara baked good. She knows everyone's faves and literally crushes holiday season. Dick is all about the og mixed berry pie, whereas Jay, who loves lemon everything (hc I saw awhile ago that I just love) prefers either a lemon meringue or a raspberry lemon. Tim is all about strawberry open face while Steph prefers cherry cheesecake or pecan pie. Cass and Bruce both love her cinnamon apple pie. Duke loves just about anything she bakes, but especially her more adventurous, contest winning pies like kiwi-blueberry-black cherry and other originals. Kate will die for Babs' cherry pie. Damian prefers blackberry or mixed like Dick. Alfred is a sweet potato pie kind of guy himself. There's a farmer's market in Blüdhaven her mother went with her to when she was a kid that Barbara still goes to get get all the fresh fruit.

Even better than Barbara or Alfred baking alone is them baking together. Roy Harper is also a pretty good baker. They all trade recipes with Martha Kent. M'gann brings wine to the manor and assembles them all for fun days of baking.

She's also totally the type of gal who made a shit ton of cupcakes when she ran for class prez and stayed I from Batgirl duties to finish them. Just saying.

She picks baking back up as Oracle but several hero emergencies lead her to burn perfectly good desserts.

She and Roy will always have puppy-love crushes on one another and be totally oblivious. They both did ballet as kids, love baking, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, shameless empty flirting, and tech. They're completely platonic and really great lifelong friends. They met at a Wayne gala as kids.

As if she wasn't already talented enough, she's completely ambidextrous. I'm jealous. Dick and Wally are left handed. Bruce is similarly ambi. Selina's a leftie. Maybe Alfred too.

She likes to enter contests and win for fun. She's a monster. Everything from baking to video games to weight lifting, she loves showing people up.

Dick, Babs, and Tim all snore atrociously loud. The batfam hates it. She's the quietest out of them all, but she's also a blanket hog. And a major cuddler.

Her favorite colors are grey and green. Purple does deserve an honorable mention however. Her apartment is a fair mix of green and grey decor and covered in books.

She was a total ballerina growing up, just like her mom wanted. That was until she discovered how kick ass martial arts were, and she got a little too jacked to continue with ballet as a formidable career option. Her next best option is becoming a cop at this point, but her father believes that not only would it be far too dangerous but a waste of her skills (like ballet cough cough). This upsets her so much she goes off and invents Batgirl, complete with a stole grappling gun from evidence.

In college she works as a barista and excels at it. Her dream is to open up a cafe/bakery/flower shop with Dinah some day. She wants to call her half Bean Me Up Scotty! (another hc I saw and fell in love with)

Babs is also a pretty good cook being that she became the family chef at a young age (Jim can barbeque and make spaghetti. That's literally it. Maybe some breakfast). Cooking lessons from Alfred certainly helped.

Her personality is so versatile. She can get along with pretty much anyone due to her wide range of interests and skills which is what makes Oracle so bad ass. She's also a Libra so she adapts fairly easily to any group without seeming fake.

She has a podcast where she rants about tech and feminism and politics and plays video games

She SO took Latin in high school and dominated competitions. She loves classical studies and is a dork for Greek and Roman mythology as well as linguistics. She has a pretty good grasp on all of the romance languages, and learns languages fairly quickly.

She always smells like mint and books. She has killer mint shampoo and conditioner, which is a Kean family thing (they just love the scent). She always smells refreshing.

She likes coffee but prefers tea always. She's like Ramona Flowers with tea

Her music taste is total 90s nostalgia (grunge, boybands, air pop, ska, hip hop) meets far too indie 4 u. Yes she's pretentious. Yes she loves chick rock and *NSYNC and Britney and Kurt Cobain and Biggie and deal with it. She also loves shit you've never even heard of. Was totally into the Gotham punk scene as a teen.

She collects vinyl and books and horror flicks ugh hipster queen

She loves spicy food and Dick cannot stand it. They both like sour candy though

If your Barbara Gordon didn't graduate high school at 16 she doesn't have rights

She was all of the Robin's first crush. Duh. Tim will always think she's the gold standard of women. He likes that she usually sticks up for him. He doesn't mind being seen as her male equivalent lmao

At some point Jay and Babs are roommates and it's literally the best I'll talk abt that later

Her type is guys with dark hair or blonde gals.

59 notes · View notes

tirednotflirting · 4 years

Text

you can tell a lot about someone by the type of music they listen to 🎵🎶

was tagged for this fun lil game by @devilatmydoor, @lukehummingbirdz, @allsassnoclass, and @clumsyclifford <3

rules: hit shuffle on your media player and write down the first 20 songs, then tag 10 people. no skipping!

(using my liked songs on spotify for this. its 707 songs. lets go)

1. You’ll Be Back - Jonathan Groff, Hamilton OBC (starting Strong)

2. Ghost - Halsey (I was posting about Badlands what? 10 minutes ago? Truly Badlands is probably the reason I stuck around on Tumblr not even kidding)

3. But It’s Better If You Do (Live) - Panic! At The Disco (Live in Chicago is a thing of dreams, y’all)

4. Numb Without You - The Maine (YOU ARE MY GLITTER AND MY GLOOM)

5. Folkin’ Around (Live) - Panic! At The Disco (FOLKIN AROUND RIGHTS HERE AT TIREDNOTFLIRTING SEND TWEET)

6. Some Nights - fun. (Quite literally one of the most defining albums of my Younger Years. Like this is what they’re going to play in Super Bowl commercials 30 years from now to make us ~feel things~)

7. Stranger - Vampire Weekend (Fun Fact: this week a year ago I saw VW twice in a week. Experience of a lifetime, damn)

8. The Other Side - Conan Gray (Conan writes songs for kids that hung out on overpasses in high school to watch the sunset w shit boys who spoke in poems...it’s me i’m kids)

9. Yorktown - Hamilton OBC (IMMIGRANTS: WE GET THE JOB DONE)

10. Grand Theft Autumn / Where Is Your Boy (Live) - Fall Out Boy (PLEASE STAND FOR YOUR NATIONAL ANTHEM...had to pause and listen through this one)

11. More - 5 Seconds of Summer (why can’t we choose them????? MAH HEART)

12. Hallelujah - Panic! At The Disco (DOAB will always remind me of my first semester of college. like it holds such a special lil place in my heart)

13. Year 3000 - Jonas Brothers (we are getting a look at just every single corner of my pop music filled mind huh?)

14. Outer Space / Carry On - 5 Seconds of Summer (whenever I feel like my conducting is starting to fade off some, I just loop this song and do my 3/4 patterns w some volume direction for like an hour straight and then i feel Better)

15. 12345SEX - UPSAHL (saw this absolute babe when she opened for Tessa Violet last August and she may be the coolest person I have ever met idk like she’s so sick)

16. This Town ft. The RTÉ Concert Orchestra - Niall Horan (Flicker is a hold masterpiece like I’ll never get tired of it, Niall really killed it I think)

17. Aftertaste - Shawn Mendes (Won’t lie, this specific song ended up in my likes after it was used in a chap of this Gorgeous Shawn fic I read sometime last year - cannot remember which one now but I remember that is why it’s there so)

18. Doom Days - Bastille (This song inspired my “Pop Songs for the Apocalypse” playlist I started last fall. If only I knew. But really Bastille is another band I’ll remember 20 years down the line as ‘oh yes this was what 17 felt like’)

19. Sarah Smiles - Panic! At The Disco (Brendon said “HI I LOVE MY WIFE AND HER NAME IS SARAH”)

20. Slow Burn - Kacey Musgraves (last fall I saw Kacey at a festival and every 30 seconds or so someone around me would just quietly say “she’s...so beautiful” and that feels like an excellent note to end on)

absolutely everyone has done this already I am almost certain but pls, if you have not, hit shuffle and join the fun <3

1 note · View note

eclairsts · 4 years

Text

meowdy to one and all, step right up to be intrigued by the audacity of this dumb b-word. for intro purposes I’m ambie ! a 22 year old moron who has a reliance on tequila and loves to make reckless decisions that affect my social life later on ! i work for child and family services full-time and im, in school part time. i’m a libra, i love to daydream and i’m really really nice and love talking to new people. anyway on to the main event !

is that sire eclair ordering a sugar free vanilla iced coffee at mocha ? i heard they’re a twenty three year old security guard. rumour has it he can be a little aloof, but also heartening. i guess that comes with being a gemini. they always make me think of bomber jackets & black jeans, lightning striking in the distance , music playing softly while you drive at 3 am.

sire éclair was born in rockford. the mother was pretty much in and out of the hospital hours before and after his birth and the nurses and doctor never saw her again. a middle aged nurse present for his birth took on the role of being his care provider those first few days he was in the hospital.

sire is a type 1 diabetic. the medical bills attached to this child were insane therefore he was undesirable to prospective adoptive parents. sire requires insulin injects four times a day and must be extremely mindful of what he eats. sire is prone to hypoglycemic episodes.

sire was in the foster system for the majority of his developmental years. he had no real attachments and the group homes he was brought up in were just there to support his basic needs.

he wasn’t brought into a genuine, real foster home in neighboring chicago until he was twelve. a woman named roxanne. they were meant to be. roxanne took him in and raised him as her own, and she made it feel like sire had been with her for years. at first he was extremely guarded and nervous to be around her with the fear of being abandoned, but roxanne worked with him and proved that she would not give up on him and that sire would be her son.

roxanne holds an extremely special place in sire’s heart, so much so that when he was old enough he took roxanne’s last name.

in his teen years, sire excelled in school and was actually very bright. he caught on quickly to concepts and ideas and sat at a 4.0 gpa. he did have friends, though no one he was particularly close with. his social status was pretty non-existent and he didn’t really care to engage in that high-school mentality.

he does enjoy music, loves to discover new songs and bands and would drive around with his mom or by himself to listen to albums. he does sing! but is like….pretty self-conscious about it.

when sire graduated he wasn’t exactly…keen on what he wanted to do. there was no dream; no desire to achieve one particular thing and roxanne would never push that on him.

he didn’t go to university, didn’t want to waste money on something to do just because the high school was pressuring him.

he does eventually want to go back, just not at this very moment and is taking some years to enjoy making it to adulthood.

sire became a security guard because he saw this security guard agency type thing post an ad and figured ‘why not’. the pay is really good and hours aren’t bad. he works in a few bars and clubs, rotates them every few weeks.

sire in animal form would be a cat, he’s very on-guard and prickly when he’s around unfamiliar people though eases up once he gets to know them.

sire would never say this but he’s got an incredibly deep rooted issue with touch? Not necessarily touch deprivation but…symptoms of it.

sire doesn’t drink due to his diabetes and if he does ever cave in it would have to be with food and could never get drunk.

sire wears a silver chain medical i.d, it looks very fashionable but serves its purpose!

he’s been coming to mocha since he turned 18 because he loves the coffee and the syrup they use to flavor his coffee.

sire is always cold and cannot really handle heat. kind of like a reptile.

sire’s daily schedule looks like wake up, sugar check, eat & insulin, sugar check, wash-up, dress up, work out, eat & insulin & sugar check, coffee & read, then proceeds to go home to prepare his dinner, sugar check and have a snack then off to work. nothing really changes and there’s no one to engage with him besides his mom who he has a daily call-in with. (she’s out travelling the world right now)

he really needs more social interaction but he won’t say it, people need to like, kind of force themselves into his life for him to realize like ‘oh…this person wants to be my friend’

sire’s…definitely probably a virgin (he is) not that he never wanted to it’s just, he never had an opportunity and like…people and romance and feelings and sex are so scary.

he has a pet fish ? that is his live-in companion. sire calls him his son? his name is digit.

Mocha is probably like…one of his sole hang-outs besides work and the gym. He loves to go there on days off to sit in the corner and read.

#mocha:intro #okay i'm probs gonna add to this in the future but!#here's si!

2 notes · View notes

rivetgoth · 5 years

Text

This is gonna be long, apologies in advance. Just wanted to type something up properly about all of my thoughts now that I'm home and decompressing 🖤

Last year, I took a late night flight back to LAX on the Monday after Cold Waves VII. My signed VIP poster was the most valuable possession I could possibly imagine, and I was scared of it getting crushed in my luggage, so I brought it as a carry on. I knew that if I listened to ohGr I would start crying, and I didn’t want to cry in the airport, so I waited, clutching my little rolled up poster that Ogre and Paul Barker and the whole ohGr crew had signed. Ogre had drawn a little heart and written “hugZ and much support Artistically.” I had picked a spot in the very back of the plane, because I thought it would be less crowded, and I was right. I had no one else around me, my row was empty aside from myself. I’ll never forget the feeling of looking out the window as the plane took off and I watched Chicago get smaller and smaller and turn to little specks of light in the night, clutching my poster like it was all I had to live for. I put on Sunnypsyop and cried myself to sleep.

There’s so much I want to say about Cold Waves and I don’t even know how to start, so I guess I can start at the beginning. Last year on September 20th I flew to Chicago for the first time in my life and met up with one of my best friends in the world, Trigger (Sylvan), to see Nivek Ogre, my biggest hero, and meet him for a second time (I was meeting both Trigger AND Ogre for a second time, actually). It was a life changing event for me. For starters, seeing Ogre is always life changing. The love and care and passion and kindness that he puts out into the world makes the whole planet a better place and lights up my life in a way that nothing else ever has. He’s the heart of the industrial scene for me, because it was through him that I got into this music and found this community. When I saw him, not only did he remember me from when we had seen each other before a year earlier, but he encouraged me not to give up on my art, telling me that not only was I talented but that he could see the work I put into what I did and could tell I was improving. He told me not to give up and gave me so many hugs and he drew me a puppy to get tattooed. Ogre was currently nursing a recently-broken jaw but he was in the cheeriest highest spirits, he was as warm and loving as ever and so excited about the tour, and he put on one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. His strength and resilience and passion for his art inspired me so much, and getting to see him alongside Trigger and even be able to tell Ogre that we met each other through our shared love of his work made the whole thing even more special. Over the course of the festival I also got to see the rest of the ohGr crew, Paul Barker, and Jared Louche, who were all incredibly sweet and fantastic. Many of them have been people I’ve had the honor to speak with either online or off various times since then and have served such a crucial place in my life as role models and figureheads of a community that means so much to me.

The whole weekend was incredible. Trigger and I made so many memories that I’ll cherish forever. I still laugh over so many little things. The show was amazing. I don’t know if I could ever envision a lineup cooler than Cocksure, Lead Into Gold, Chemlab, and ohGr back to back. So many heroes, so many legends. I was living in the middle of nowhere at the time and had missed a lot of concerts due to being unable to get to them. I was seeing people like Chris Connelly and Paul Barker for the very first time. I thought I would never see Chemlab, and yet there I was seeing them among so many incredible people who I had looked up to for so long. So many people who had changed my life and saved my life. But everyone was amazing, and I not only got to see other legendary incredible bands like Front Line Assembly (CYBERAKTIF!!), I got to discover new bands I relisten to all the damn time like ACTORS. I felt connected with everyone in the audience and I got to meet a ton of cool people who were so friendly and so accepting of me. Jim Marcus got on stage and gave a talk about how Cold Waves and the industrial community at large is like a family and I really believed it and felt it and knew it was true.

The craziest thing about Cold Waves VII, though, was the fact that I literally moved out of my parents’ house and to Los Angeles the very next day. When I landed in LAX in the middle of the night I didn’t go home – I met my parents at a little motel where they had brought all of my stuff, sitting in boxes in the back of their minivan. I had packed it all up before I left for Chicago. The next morning we moved everything into my dorm room and my parents left, and there I was living in Los Angeles, alone, away from my family for the first time in my life, at age nineteen. I had just been accepted to UCLA late that spring and classes started the Thursday after the festival. It was a huge change and a huge new beginning and I was so scared of what was to come. I was scared of being alone and I didn’t know if I’d be able to survive in LA. I didn’t know if I’d belong, if I’d be able to succeed, if I would be able to fit in anywhere. Cold Waves served as the opening to a whole new chapter of my life and I was able to leave the completely magical world of the Metro and fly to a brand new home and start my life with the knowledge that I had been surrounded just a day before by countless people who understood me and supported me and who felt the same love and passion as I did. The following month I got Ogre’s puppy tattooed, and I began going to local goth clubs and concerts and meeting up with various people and making friends nearby. It was a slow process that’s probably ongoing forever, but I feel like it all traces back to Cold Waves as a catalyst for a reminder that I would never be alone.

This year’s Cold Waves was a weekend I’ll hold onto for the rest of my life. With my venture into the Los Angeles goth scene and the world around it I met another one of my closest best friends, Angel, who’s now also my roommate. Funny enough I owe Ogre to our meeting as well, because our first conversation was about her going to see him. This time, she flew to Chicago with me to meet up with Trigger. Being able to add a third person to our little entourage was so fun and cool. I love both Angel and Trigger so so much and it was so cool to see our little group grow bigger and I felt like there was an instant ability to connect through shared jokes and shared passions and shared understandings. On the night that we got there, after a little bit of initial awkwardness just as we figured out what we were doing and settled into a workable dynamic between the three of us (and found food after a day of accidentally starving ourselves in the way one does when traveling), we ended up staying up until five in the morning doing “Chemlab karaoke” in our hotel room until we received a noise complaint (oops). Then we had to get up less than three hours later so we didn’t miss breakfast, and spent the whole first day of the festival running on about two and a half hours of sleep and weird tasting hotel bananas. It was an amazing bonding experience and that night alone was some of the most fun I can ever remember having, just being able to hang out with two of my best friends and scream the lyrics to music we loved, so excited for what was to come. I was able to prove that I know EVERY lyric to “Jesus Christ Porno Star” before the noise complaint forced us to shut the hell up.

From here, I don’t even know how to start. How do I even begin to talk about the next four nights? For one, everything was perfect in a way that I didn’t know was possible. Absolutely everything went perfectly as planned. Everything worked out. It felt like we had entered a dimension where nothing bad could happen. Quickly discarding our failed attempt at continental breakfast, we got into a daily ritual of waking up, getting ready, loitering at the Starbucks by the Metro for a few hours, and then heading to the venue early enough that we were guaranteed a spot at the front of the theatre every single night (we didn’t do much Chicago sightseeing… we needed to sleep in with how late we were staying up each night, hehe). On the very first night Jared spotted us in line and came over to give us big hugs and say hi!! That was amazing, because we’d been looking forward to hugging Jared all year. And that was one of MANY to come!! We got to be front and center when Curse Mackey came on stage, who we’d been looking forward to since the release of his first solo album earlier this year. The album is completely fantastic as was his performance. Trigger and I had such a blast being able to scream along to every single song. When we yelled out “WE LOVE YOU CURSE MACKEY” he called back “I love you too!”, and he grabbed our hands so many times during the show. And then… fucking CHEMLAB!!!! Easily one of the best shows I’ve ever witnessed. It was so fucking perfect. The absolute chaos of the beach balls, Jared’s grand entrance, Curse’s return to the stage, the music, the paint, the feathers, Jared spitting water at us until we were covered in his spit, and then Adrian Halo, another friend I’ve made in LA who I love, was pulled onto the stage for the finale. And Jared gave Angel the painting he made on stage! I felt like I was going to cry just watching it all. It was so fun, so exciting, so thrilling. I never wanted it to end. After the show we got to meet up with Curse and Jared and they were both so unbelievably nice. It felt like talking to old friends. There was immediate acceptance of us as fans and as people. I can’t thank either of them enough for the kindness they showed. They made me feel like I belonged there and I mattered there and I was apart of something.

…And we WERE apart of something. We got to witness so much greatness. We got to cry in the front of the audience when Severed Heads ended their final song of their final set. We got to experience the raw, primal, intense excitement the moment Paul started blaring classic Ministry tracks from his Min-Dub Soundsystem. Acumen vs 16Volt were so fucking fun and cool and their backing footage at the end absolutely made me cry. Light Asylum was amazing and her return to the stage with Test Dept. (also totally mindblowing and so INDUSTRIAL) was so epic – As was her Leigh Bowery shirt, which was awesome (I love Leigh Bowery!). Every single band stood out and did something interesting, fun, engaging, creative, cool, etc. It felt like I was apart of something real and this community had carved a very real space for itself in the world of music and art. I got to meet in person people who I’ve known online for ages. People I’ve only ever chatted with through Instagram DMs and Facebook comments ran up to me and we immediately hugged and started talking and it was perfectly natural. We clicked immediately because we knew that we were all here for the same things. I got to make new friends while waiting in line or waiting for the show to start in the theatre. It felt like every single day I was making new friends or meeting up with old friends. I finally got to meet Jim Marcus in person and thank them for the times that they’ve been a pivotal role model for me in my life and give them the huge hug they deserve. I have so many memories that I’ll hang onto for the rest of my life.

I worry about being alone a lot in my life. Not necessarily physically alone – If anything, I love a lot of solitude and I’m not always very sociable. I’m definitely more introverted than extroverted typically. But I worry a lot about a more deep-seated loneliness, especially as an artist. I’ve always been drawn to artistic groups in history that functioned as, well, groups. Andy Warhol’s Factory and the New Romantic Blitz Kids have been interests of mine for a long time because I’m so fascinated in the idea of artists being able to form a community and be connected, even when there is a fallout or things don’t always go perfectly. I’ve struggled more than I care to admit with a sensation throughout my life of not belonging or fitting in with anyone anywhere. I’m good enough at putting on a friendly attitude and people tend to like me, it’s not even that I end up a social outcast. It’s internal, an inwards fear that no one will ever be able to understand me and people like me with the same passions as I don’t truly exist. But Cold Waves proves that they do. People “like me” in every type of way really do exist. It was completely amazing to be able to meet so many people, to be able to strike up conversations with just about anyone, to meet up with new friends and old friends and feel connected to so many human beings around me, all from different walks of life, from different parts of the country or even world, with different stories and hopes and dreams, but we all could be connected for that weekend to our shared love of industrial music and our shared love for Jamie Duffy and Chicago and everything that this subculture has built. The musicians themselves accepted us so quickly as apart of their world. We were more than just fans, there was a real exchange of energy and passion between creator and audience happening, a connection between everyone in the Metro.

On the last day of Cold Waves I wore a pig costume, partly because I love PIG and had been looking forward to seeing Raymond live since I saw him tour with Killing Joke the year before, but also partly just because I fucking adore pigs (the animal) and thought it would be fun. It was goofy and I almost didn’t do it because I was worried people would think I was stupid, but I love the idea of dressing up and wearing fun costumes and I wanted Raymond to see! It ended up being the perfect ending to the festival and it tied everything together so well. Everyone loved it. So many people complimented it and took pictures of me or with me. I’ve seen Instagram posts from strangers talking about me, mentioning the “devoted young fan in the pig nose in the front row.” I’ve seen Facebook posts that mention me. It sounds conceited, but it’s not that I care about popularity or attention, honestly – Most of these people will never even know my name. It was just so fun to be able to dress up in a fun way to support music that I love and represent something that means a lot to me and have such a hugely positive reaction, all these people who love it and accept and embrace it. Raymond reaching down to poke my pig nose during the show was the absolute highlight of the night, and one of the big highlights of Cold Waves altogether. I had a stranger come up to me after the show and say, “You know, you were a really important part of the PIG concert!” It totally made my night. I got to meet so many great people that night. I met up with Logan, who’s a total sweetheart and I’m SO glad we had the chance to connect in person after talking online, I also finally talked to another Angel who lives in LA who I had seen around and they were so so so sweet as well. I got to speak to Jim Marcus, as I said before (they’re my dad now), I got to say hi to and hug Paul Barker for the third time, I got to meet Raymond Watts for the first time and tell him about how much I love his work and hug him, I got to chat with all the people I had already met in line and in the front row the past few days for a final time. It felt so connected. I felt so connected to everyone. When Jim gave the talk on stage about our community and how much it matters and how we’re all there for each other, I really started to cry right there at the front of the audience. It’s so true in such a real and profound way that I’ve never felt anywhere else but in the industrial community. I was there hundreds, thousands of miles from my home in California, surrounded by people who were mostly more or less strangers, but I felt so connected to them and so accepted by them and I loved all of them so much and I felt like they loved me.

It’s so sad to leave Cold Waves and be back home. I love LA but there’s nothing like Cold Waves. There’s nothing like being in the Metro surrounded by everyone else like that. I can’t wait to go back. I feel so reinvigorated in my art and my projects, I want to create and I want to bring to life my own passions so that I can share them with others and give back to this community. I wish I had a way to properly thank everyone – All of the unbelievably talented musicians who are all so sweet and so humble and so amazing, all of the people in the audience who chatted with me and befriended me, all of the friends I made there and all of the friends I already had, the security guards, doormen, managers, everyone who helps keep the place together, Darkest Before Dawn, everyone who works tirelessly to put this event together each year. I don’t know where I’d be without it. Thank you so much for the most incredible time, I’m going to try to keep the spirit of Cold Waves alive in my art and creation even now as I settle back into my home. And I can’t wait to be back next year!

#soft hooting

8 notes · View notes

chiseler · 5 years

Text

The Chiseler Interviews Tim Lucas

Born in 1956, film historian, novelist and screenwriter Tim Lucas is the author of several books, including the award-winning Mario Bava: All the Colors of the Dark, The Book of Renfield: A Gospel of Dracula, and Throat Sprockets. He launched Video Watchdog magazine in 1990, and his screenplay, The Man With Kaleidoscope Eyes, has been optioned by Joe Dante. He lives in Cincinnati with his wife Donna.

The following interview was conducted via email.

THE CHISELER: You're known for your longstanding love affair with horror films. Could you perhaps explain this allure they hold for you?

Tim Lucas: I suppose they’ve meant different things to me at different times of my life. When I was very young (and I started going to movies at my local theater alone, when I was about six), I was attracted to them as something fun but also as a means of overcoming my fears - I would sometimes go to see the same movie again until I could stop hiding my eyes, and I would often find out they showed me a good deal less than I saw behind my hands, so I learned that when I was hiding my eyes my own imagination took over. This encouraged me to look, but also to impose my own imagination on what I was seeing. Similarly, I remember flinching at pictures of various monsters in FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND magazine, then realizing that, as I became able to stop flinching, to look more deeply into the pictures, I began to feel compassion for Karloff’s Frankenstein Monster and admiration for Jack Pierce’s makeup. You could say that I learned some valuable life lessons from this: not to make snap judgements, not to hate or fear someone else because they looked different. I should also point out that beauty had the same intense effect on me as ugliness, in those early days at the movies. I was as frightened by the glowing light promising another appearance by the Blue Fairy in PINOCCHIO as I was by Stromboli or Monstro the Whale. I also covered my eyes when things, even colors, became too beautiful to bear.

As I got older, I found out that horror, science fiction, and fantasy films often told the unpleasant truths about our world, our government, our politics, and other people, before such things could be openly confronted in straightforward drama. So I’m not one of those people who are drawn to horror by gore or some other superficial incentive; I have always responded to them because they made me aware of unpopular truths, because they made me a more empathic person, and because they sometimes encompass a very unusual form of beauty that you can’t find in reality or in any other kind of film.

THE CHISELER: I'm fascinated by what you term "a very specific hybrid of beauty that you can’t find in reality or in any other kind of film.” Please develop that point.

Tim Lucas: For example, the aesthetic put forward by the films of David Lynch... or Tim Burton... or Mario Bava... or Roger Corman... or Val Lewton... or James Whale... or F.W. Murnau. It's incredibly varied, really; too varied to be summarized by a single name, but it's dark and baroque with a broader, deeper spectrum of color. I’ll give you an example: there is a Sax Rohmer novel called YELLOW SHADOWS - and only in a horror film can you see truly yellow shadows. Or green shadows. Or a fleck of red light on a vine somewhere out of doors. It’s a painterly version of reality, akin to what people see in film noir but even more psychological. It might be described as a visible confirmation of how the past survives in everything - we can see new artists quoting from a past master, making their essence their own.

THE CHISELER: Your definition of horror, to me, goes straight to the heart of cinema as an almost metaphysical phenomenon. My friend and frequent co-writer, Jennifer Matsui, once wrote: "Celluloid preserves the dead better than any embalming fluid. Like amber preserved holograms, they flit in and out of its parameters, reciting their own epitaphs in pantomime; revenant moths trapped in perpetual motion." Do Italian directors have what I guess you can call special epiphanies to offer? If so, does this help explain your Bava book?

Tim Lucas: The epiphanies of Italian horror all arise from the culture that was inculcated into those filmmakers as young people - the awareness of architecture, painting, writing, myth, legend, music, sculpture that they all grow up with. It's so much richer than any films that can be made by people with no foundation in the other art forms, people who makes movies just because they've seen a few - and maybe cannot even be bothered to watch any in black and white. I imagine many people go into the film business for reasons having to do with sex or power rather than having something deep down they need to express. The most stupid Italian and French directors have infinitely more in their artistic arsenals than directors from the USA, because they are brought up with an awareness of the importance of the Arts. No one gets this in America, where we slash arts and education budgets and many parents just sit their children in front of a television. Without supervision, without a sense of context, they will inevitably be drawn to whatever is loudest or most colorful or whatever has the most edits per minute. And those kids are now making blockbusters. They make money, so why screw with the formula? When I was a kid, it was still possible to find important, nurturing material on TV - fortunately!

Does it explain my Bava book? I don't know, but Bava's films somehow encouraged and sustained the passion that saw me through the researching and writing of that book, which took 32 years. When my book first came out, some people took me to task for its presumed excess - on the grounds that “our great directors” like John Ford and Orson Welles, for all their greatness, had never inspired a book of such size or magnitude. I could only answer that my love for my subject must be greater. But the thing about the Bava book, really, was that - at that time - the playing field was pretty much virgin territory in English, and Bava as a worker in the Italian film industry touched just about everything that industry had encompassed. All of those relationships needed charting. It would have been an insult to merely pigeonhole him as a horror director.

THE CHISELER: I discovered your publication, Video Watchdog, back in 2000 when Kim's Video was something of an underground institution here in NYC. I mean, they openly hawked bootlegs. There was a real sense of finding the unexpected which gave the place a genuine mystique. Now that you've had some time to reflect on its heyday, what are your thoughts, generally, on VW?

Tim Lucas: It's hard to explain to someone who just caught on in 2000, when things were already very different and more incorporated. VIDEO WATCHDOG began in 1990 as a magazine, but before that it was a feature in other magazines of different sorts that began in 1986. At that time, I was reviewing VHS releases for a Chicago-based magazine called VIDEO MOVIES, which then had a title change to VIDEO TIMES. I pointed out to my editor that his writers were reviewing the films and not saying anything about their presentation on video, and urged him to make more of a mandate about discussing aspect ratios, missing scenes (or added scenes) and such. I proposed that I write a column that would start collecting such information and that column was called "The Video Watchdog.”

In 2000, VW's origins in Beta and VHS and LaserDisc had evolved to DVD and Blu-ray was on the point of being introduced, so by then most of the battles we identified and fought had already been won and assimilated into the way movies were being presented on video. But in our early days, my fellow writers and I - were making our readers aware of filmmakers like Bava, Argento, Avati, Franco, Rollin, Ptushko, Zuławski - and the conversation we started led to people seeking out these films through non-official channels, even forming those non-official channels, until the larger companies began to realize there was an exploitable market there. Our coverage was never limited to horror - horror was sort of the hub of our interest, which radiated out into the works of any filmmaker whose work seemed in some way paranormal - everyone from Powell and Pressburger to Ishiro Honda to Krzystof Kiesłowski.

Now that the magazine is behind me, I can see more easily that we were part of a process, perhaps an integral part, of identifying and disseminating some very arcane information and, by sharing our own processes of discovery, raising the general consciousness about innumerable marginal and maverick filmmakers. A lot of our readers went on to become filmmakers (some already were) and many also went on to form home video companies or work in the business.

I'm proud of what we were able to achieve, and that what were written as timely reports have endured as still useful, still relevant criticism. Magazines tend to be snapshots of the present, and our back issues have that aspect, but our readers still tell me that the work is holding up, it’s not getting old.

When I say "we," I mean numerous writers who shared my pretentious ethic and were able to push genre criticism beyond the dismissive critical writing about genre film that was standard in 1990. I mentioned this state of things in my first editorial, that the gore approach wasn’t encouraging anyone to take horror as a genre more seriously, and I do think horror became more respectable over the years we were publishing.

THE CHISELER: My own personal touchstone, Raymond Durgnat, drilled deep into genre — particularly horror films — while pushing back instinctively against the Auteur Theory. No critic will ever write with more infatuated precision about Barbara Steele, whose image graces the cover of your Bava tome. Do you have any personal favorites in that regard; any individual author or works that acted as a kind of Virgil for you?

Tim Lucas: I haven't read Durgnat extensively, but when I discovered him in the 1970s his books FRANJU and A MIRROR FOR ENGLAND were gospel to me. Tom Milne's genre reviews for MONTHLY FILM BULLETIN were always intelligent and well-informed. Ivan Butler’s HORROR IN THE CINEMA was the first real book I read on the subject, along with HITCHCOCK/TRUFFAUT - and I remember focusing on Butler’s chapter on REPULSION, an entire fascinating chapter on a single film, which I hadn’t actually seen. It showed me the film and also how to watch it, so that when it finally came to my local television station, I was ready to meet it head on. David Pirie’s books A HERITAGE OF HORROR and THE VAMPIRE CINEMA I read to pieces. But it was Joe Dante's sometimes uncredited writing in CASTLE OF FRANKENSTEIN magazine that first hooked my interest in this direction - followed by the earliest issues of CINEFANTASTIQUE, which I discovered with their third issue and for which I became a regular reviewer and correspondent in 1972. I continued to write for them for the next 11 years.

THE CHISELER: I was wondering how you responded to these periodic shifts in taste and sexual politics, especially as they address horror movies — or even something like feminist critiques of the promiscuity of rage against women evident all throughout Giallo; the fear of female agency and power which is never too far from the surface. Are sexism, and even homophobia, simply inherent to the genre?

Tim Lucas: None of that really matters very much to me. I've been around so long now, I can see these recurring waves of people trying to catch their own wave of time, to make an imprint on it in some way. For some reason, I find myself annoyed by newish labels like "folk horror" and "J-horror" because such films have been with us forever; they didn't need such identification before and they have only been invented to get us more quickly to a point, and sometimes these au courant labels simply rebrand work without bringing anything substantially new to the discussion. Every time I read an article about the giallo film, I have to suffer through another explanation of what it is - and this is a genre whose busiest time frame was half a century ago. Sexism and homophobia are things people generally only understand in terms of the now, and I don’t know how fair it is to apply such concepts to films made so long ago. Think of Maria’s torrid dance in METROPOLIS and all those ravenous young men in tuxedos eating her with their eyes. Sexist, yes - but that’s not the point Lang was making.

I don’t particularly see myself as normal, but I suppose I am centrist in most ways. I don’t bring an agenda to the films I write about, other than wanting them to be as complete and beautifully restored as possible. That said, I am interested in, say, feminist takes on giallo films or homosexual readings of Herman Cohen films because - after all - we all bring ourselves to the movies, and if there’s more to be learned about a film I admire, from outside my own experience, that can be precious information. I want to know it and see if I can agree with it, or even if it causes me to feel something new and unfamiliar about it.

My only real concern is that genre criticism tends to be either academic or conversational (even colloquial), and we’re now at a point where the points made by articles published 20 or more years ago are coming back presented as new information, without any idea (or concern) that these things have already been said. As magazines are going by the wayside, taking their place is talk on social media, which is not really disciplined or constructive, nor indeed easily retrievable for reference. There are also audio commentaries on DVD and Blu-ray discs. Fortunately, there are a number of good and serious people doing these, but even when you get very intelligent or intellectual commentators, they often work best with the movie image turned off, because it’s a distraction from what’s being said. Is that true commentary? I'm not an academic; I’m an autodidact, so I don't have the educational background to qualify as a true intellectual, and I feel left out by a lot of academic writing. I do read a good deal and have familiarity with a fair range of topics, so I tend to frame myself somewhere between the vox populist and academia. That's the area we pursued in VW.

THE CHISELER: David Cairns and I once published a critical appreciation of Giallo, using fundamentally Roman Catholic misogyny — and, to a lesser extent, fear of gay men — as an intriguing lens. For example, lesbians are invariably sinister figures in these movies, while straight women ultimately function as nothing more than cinematographic objects: very fetishized, very well-lit corpses, you might say.

Tim Lucas: See, I admire a lot of giallo films but it would never occur to me to see them through a lens. I do, of course, because personal experience is a lens, but my lens is who I am and I’ve never had to fight for or defend my right to be who I am. I have no particular flag to wave in these matters; I approach everything from the stance of a film historian or as a humanist.

There is a lot of crossdressing and such in giallo, but these are tropes going back to French fin de siècle thrillers of the early 1900s, they don't really have anything to do with homophobia as we perceive it in our time. In the Fantomas novels, Souvestre and Allain (the authors) used to continually deceive their readers by having their characters - the good and the evil ones - change disguises, and sometimes apparently change sexes.

I remember Dario Argento saying that he used homosexual characters in his films because he was interested in their problems. He seldom actually explored their problems, and their portrayal in his earliest films is… quaint, to be kind about it… but it was a positive change as time played out. I think the fact that Argento’s flamboyant style attracted gay fans brought them more into his orbit and the vaguely sinister gay characters of his early films become more three dimensional and sympathetic later on, so in that regard his attention to such characters charts his own gradual embracing of them. So in a sense they chart his own widening embrace of the world, which is surprising considering what a misanthropic view of the world he presents.

THE CHISELER: But Giallo is roughly contemporaneous to the rise of Second Wave Feminism. Like the Michael & Roberta Findlay 'roughies', this is not a fossilized species of extinct male anger we're talking about here. Women's bodies are the energy of pictorial composition; splayed specifically for the delectation of some very confused and pissed off men in the audience. I know of no exceptions. To me it makes perfect sense to recognize the ritualized stabbings, stranglings, the BDSM hijinks in Giallo as rather obvious symptoms of somebody's not-so-latent fear and hatred.

Tim Lucas: I think that’s a modernist attitude that was not all that present at the time. Once the MPAA ratings system was introduced in late 1968, all genres of films got stronger in terms of graphic violence and language, and suspense thrillers were no exception. At the time, women and gay people were feeling freer, freer to be themselves, and were not looking for new ways to be taken out of films, however they might be represented. Neither base really had that power anyway at that time, but at any rate it wasn’t a time for them to appear more conservative. That would come at a later period when they felt more assured and confident in their equality. Throughout the 1960s, even in 1969 films like THE WRECKING CREW and BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, you can see that women are still playthings of a sort in films; there are starting to be more honest portrayals of women in films like HUD, but the prevailing emphasis of them is still decorative, so it makes sense that they would be no different in a thriller setting. There’s no arguing, I don’t think, that the murder scenes become more thrilling when the victim is a beautiful, voluptuous woman. It’s nothing to do with misogyny but rather about wanting to induce excitement from the viewer. If you look back to Janet Leigh’s character arc in PSYCHO, the exact same thing happens to her, but because she’s a well-developed character and time is given to explore that character and her goals and motivations, there is no question that it is a role women would want to play, even now. However, the same simply isn’t true of most giallo victims, which should not be seen as one of their rules but as one of their faults. In BLOOD AND BLACK LACE, I think Mario Bava shows us just enough of the women characters for us to have some investment in their fates - but when the giallo films are in the hands of sausage makers, you’re going to feel a sense of misogyny. It may be real but it may also be misanthropy or a more commercial mandate to pack more into a film and to sex it up. I should add that, because I’m not a woman or gay, I don’t bring personal sensitivities to these things, so I see them as something that just comes with the territory, like shoot-outs in Westerns. If you were to expunge anything that was objectionable from a giallo film, wouldn’t it be just another cop show or Agatha Christie episode? You watch a giallo film because, on some level, you want to see something with the hope of some emotional or aesthetic involvement, or with the hope of being outraged and offended. There is no end of mystery entertainment without giallo tropes, so it’s there if you demand that. Giallo films aren’t really about who done it, only figuratively; they are lessons in how to stage murder scenes and probably would not exist without the master painting of PSYCHO’s shower scene, which they all seek to emulate.

THE CHISELER: You mentioned Val Lewton earlier. Personally, I've never encountered anything like the overall tone of his films. There's always something startling to see and hear. Would you shed a little light on his importance?

Tim Lucas: He's an almost unique figure in film in that he was a producer yet he projected an auteur-like imprint on all his works. The horror films for which he's best known are not quite like any other films of their kind; I remember Telotte's book DREAMS OF DARKNESS using the word "vesperal" to describe the Lewton films' specific atmosphere - a word pertaining to the mood of evening prayer services, which isn't a bad way of putting it. I've always loved them for their delicacy, their poetical sense, their literary quality, and their indirectness - which sometimes co-exists with sources of florid garishness, like the woman with the maracas in THE LEOPARD MAN. In THE SEVENTH VICTIM, one shy character characterizes the heroine's visit to his apartment as her "advent into his world," and when I first saw it, I was struck by the almost spiritual tenderness and vulnerability of that description. Lewton was remarkable because he seems to have worked in horror because it was below the general studio radar, which allowed him to make extremely personal films. As long as they checked the necessary boxes, he could make the films he wanted - and I think Mario Bava learned that exact lesson from him.

THE CHISELER: I've always been fascinated by a question which is probably unanswerable: Why do you think it is that movies based on Edgar Allan Poe stories — even those films that only just pretend to sink roots in Poe, offering glib riffs on his prose at best — invariably bear fruit?

Tim Lucas: Poe's writings predate the study of human psychology and, to an extent, chart it - so he can be credited with founding a wing of science much like Jules Verne's writings were the foundation of science fiction and, later, science fact. Also, from the little we know of Poe's personal life, his writing was extremely personal and autobiographical, which makes it all the more compelling and resonant. It's also remarkably flexible in the way it lends itself to adaptation - there is straight Poe, comic Poe, arty Poe, even Poeless Poe. It helps too that a lot of people familiar with him haven't read him extensively, at least not since school, or think they have read him because they've seen so many Poe movies. The sheer range of approaches taken to his adaptation makes him that much more universal.

It also occurs to me that people are probably much more alike internally than they are externally, so the identification with an internal or first person narrator may be more immediate. But it's true that his work has inspired a fascinating variety of interpretation. You can see this at work in a single film: SPIRITS OF THE DEAD (1968), which I’ve written an entire book about. It’s three stories done by Roger Vadim, Louis Malle, and Federico Fellini - all vastly different, all terribly personal expressions of the men who made them.

THE CHISELER: Speaking of Poe adaptations, I've long thought it's time to confront Roger Corman's legacy; as an artist, a producer, an industrial muse, everything. Sometimes I think he's the single most important figure in cinema history. And if that's a wild overstatement, I could stand my ground somewhat and point out that no one person ever supported independent filmmakers with such profound results. It's as though he used his position at a mainstream Hollywood studio to open a kind of Underground Railroad for two generations of film artists. He gave so many artists a leg up in a business where those kinds of opportunities were never exactly abundant that it's hard to keep track. Entering the subject from any angle you like, what are your thoughts on Corman's overall contribution to cinema?

Tim Lucas: I can think of more important filmmakers than Corman, but there has never been a more important producer or mogul or facilitator of films. I said this while introducing him on the first of our two-night interview at the St. Louis Film Festival’s Vincentennial in 2011. He was largely responsible for every trend in American cinema during its most decisive quarter century - 1955 through 1980, and to some extent a further decade still, which bore an enormous influx of talent he discovered and nurtured. People talk about Irving Thalberg, Darryl F. Zanuck, Steven Spielberg, etc. - but their productions don’t begin to show the sheer diversity of interests that you get from Corman’s output. He has no real counterpart. I’ve spent a lot of the past 20 years musing on him, first as the protagonist of a comedy script I wrote with Charlie Largent called THE MAN WITH KALEIDOSCOPE EYES, which Joe Dante has optioned. A few years ago, I decided to turn the script into a novel, which is with my agent now. It’s about the time period before, during, and after the making of THE TRIP (1966). It's a comedy but one with a serious, even philosophical side.

You know, Mario Bava once described himself to someone as “the Italian Roger Corman.” It’s incredible to me that Bava would have said that, not because it’s wrong or even because he was a total filmmaker before Corman made his first picture, but because Bava has been dead for so long! He’s been gone now almost 40 years and Roger is still making movies. And he’s been making movies for the DTV market longer than anybody, so he sort of predicted the current exodus of new movies away from theaters to streaming formats.

THE CHISELER: Are there any other producers/distributors you'd care to acknowledge, anyone that you think has followed in what you might call Corman’s Tradition of Generosity?

Tim Lucas: No, I really think he is incomparable in that respect. I do think it’s important to note, however, that I doubt Roger was ever purely motivated by generosity of spirit. I don’t think he would put money or his trust in anyone merely as a favor. He’s a businessman to his core and his gambles have always been based on projects that are likely to improve on his investment, even if moderately. I have a feeling that the first dollar he ever made is still in circulation, floating around out there bringing something new into being. I also don’t think he would give anyone their big break unless they had earned that break already in some respect. And when he does extend that opportunity, he’s got to know that, when these people graduate from his company, he’ll be sacrificing their talent, their camaraderie, maybe even in some cases their gratitude. So yes, there is some generosity in that aspect - but he also knows from experience that there are always new top students looking to extend their educations on the job. I wish more people in the film business had his selflessness, his ability to recognize and encourage talent. It may be his greatest legacy.

THE CHISELER: You introduced me, many years ago, to Mill of the Stone Women — I'll end on a personal note by thanking you and asking: Would you share an insight or two about this remarkable gem, particularly for readers who may not have seen it?

Tim Lucas: MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN was probably my first exposure to Italian horror; I saw it as a child, more than once, on local television and there were things about it that haunted and disturbed me, though I didn't understand it. Perhaps that's why it haunted and disturbed me, but the image of Helfy's hands clutching the red velvet curtains stayed with me for decades (a black and white memory) until I got to see it on VHS - I paid $59.95 for the privilege because my video store told me they would not be stocking it. It's a very peculiar film because Giorgio Ferroni wasn't a director who favored horror; the "Flemish Tales" that it's supposedly based on is non-existent, a Lovecraftian meta-invention, and it's the only Italian horror filmed in that particular region in the Netherlands. It looks more Germanic than Italian. I’m tempted to believe Bava may have had a hand in doing the special effects shot, which look like his work, but they might also have been done by his father Eugenio, as he was also a wax figure sculptor so would have been good to have on hand. He seldom took screen credit. So it's a film that has stayed with me because it's elusive; it's hard to find the slot where it belongs. It's like an adult fairy tale, or something out of E.T.A. Hoffmann. I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve wasted, trying to find another movie with the unique spell cast by that one.

4 notes · View notes

jomalley-ferrisbueller-final · 5 years

Text

A Closer Look at Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (John Hughes, 1986)

The 1980s was the time of the teen film, with a number of iconic teen films coming out during that decade. One that has become a staple of the classic teen film is Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (John Hughes, 1986). Ferris’ legendary day off has become a dream for teens then and now still being quoted today within the halls of high schools around the country.

Bueller didn’t hit the big screen in the summer of 1986 without its fair share of long and tedious production issues. Director John Hughes took a lot of his inspiration from his own life growing up. Raised in Chicago, this city becomes the setting for a majority of his films. In fact, there are even websites that pinpoint exact locations all throughout Illinois where Hughes shot classic movies such as Bueller, The Breakfast Club (John Hughes, 1985), and Home Alone (John Hughes, 1990). Looking at Buller specifically, a lot of aspects of the film reflect John Hughes. Ferris’s bedroom is created to look very similar to how Hughes’ room looked when he was a teenager, scenes for the film were shot in the hallways of his former high school, Glenbrook North and the character Ferris Bueller is actually based one of Hughes’ friends from his childhood with the same name. Edward McNally, a childhood friend of Hughes wrote an article for The Washington Post honoring the late director. As far as being named “the inspiration” for Bueller he is quoted as saying:

“…for years I was relentlessly pursued by a remarkably humorless Glenbrook dean about attendance, pranks and off-campus excursions -- and because my best friend was in fact named Buehler -- I've spent an inordinate amount of my life being unfairly accused of serving among the inspirations for Ferris Bueller.”

Looking at the production of the film, there were many different things that went into its creation. It only took three months to shoot the film between September 9, 1985, and November 22, 1985 which might not seem like a lot compared to how long shows or movies take to shoot today, but since a lot of their filming locations existed within miles of each other it was pretty easy to get everything shot in a short time. During the filming, John Hughes took some inspiration from Ferris on his impressive way to get the impossible done. The parade scene was shot during Chicago’s annual Von Steuben Day Parade. The float that Ferris is on was actually created for the film and was put in the parade route without the parade officials being aware of what was going on. With there being a real parade Hughes was able to get genuine footage of thousands of people enjoying a beautiful day in Chicago. When they needed to shoot more of the parade scene a week later, around 10,000 people showed up for the filming answering the call made on radio stations for extras to appear in a John Hughes film. In this scene, Ferris is featured lip-syncing the famous Beatles song “Twist and Shout” which came with its own set of issues. Paul McCarthy did not like the fact that Hughes had added the brass element to the song to make it seem as though the band was playing it at the parade. When John Hughes insisted on the Beatles song be used in the film, they ended up having to pay EMI $100,000 for the rights and allowance to change the song. While Hughes was adamant about some of the production decisions, they all proved successful in skyrocketing the film to one of the most fondly remembered films today.

youtube

The marketing for the film was very straight forward. There were a couple of articles written about the film in both the Daily News and well as The New York Times talking about the movie, giving an unbiased explanation of the film to promote it. There were also several 30-second commercials giving hints at Ferris’ crazy day off. Appealing to the teen audiences that Hughes is trying to relate to, the announcer narrates over scenes of the film saying, “it’s about life, it’s about liberty, it’s about the pursuit of recreation”. This phrasing attracts teenagers to the film because that is what they are looking for – freedom from the norm.

youtube

Looking at the posters for the film it features many different slogans such as “One man’s struggle to take it easy”, “Because life is too beautiful a thing to waste”, “Leisure rules”, “While the rest of us were just thinking about it…Ferris borrowed a Ferrari and did it…all in a day”. Similar to the commercials, these phrases draw the teenager in because that type of thinking is really appealing to them.

A teenager stuck in the rut of high school wants nothing more than to skip school and live out an amazing day with their best friends. This mentality is what brought teens to the theaters to live through Ferris.

The summer of 1986 saw a lot of hit films. Buller had some tough competition seeing films such as Top Gun (Tony Scott, 1986), Aliens (James Cameron, 1986), Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (Leonard Nimoy, 1986), and The Karate Kid Part II (John Avildsen, 1986) all hitting theaters in 1986. In the United States and Worldwide Box offices, Bueller placed in the top 10 of both lists sitting in the number 10 spot for all 1986 films. The budget for the film was an estimated $6,000,000 and not only broke even but made money-generating $6,275,647 during their opening weekend of June 15, 1986. Bueller, made nearly all of its money from domestic box offices bringing it $70,136,369 and only $1,469 in international box offices. Looking at the reception of the film it is easy to see how it was in the top 10 films of 1986.

Roger Ebert was one of the top movie reviewers of his time up until his death in 2013 after losing an eleven-year battle with cancer. Writing reviews for The Chicago Sun-Times for over 40 years, he became the first film critic to receive a Pulitzer Prize in Criticism. In 1986 he gave a review of Bueller and is quoted as saying “Here is one of the most innocent movies in a long time, a sweet, warm-hearted comedy about a teenager who skips school so he can help his best friend win some self-respect.” He talks about the plot of the film and ends his review by saying “…the film's heart is in the right place, and "Ferris Bueller" is slight, whimsical and sweet.” With Ebert’s review coming out on June 11, 1986, it’s easy to see that Bueller won over the hearts of teens and adults alike wishing that they were able to have a day off like Ferris did.

The non-critical reviews of this film are all pretty similar, it is regarded as a film of the generation that holds against the test of time. On Rotten Tomatoes, of the 728,405 user ratings, the average audience score is a high 92%. One “super reviewer”, Brendan N. is quoted as saying

“Classic cult film and a must-see for all generations. John Hughes created a lot of the teenage angst or coming of age films in the 80s and Ferris was quite possibly his greatest creation. Watching this on the big screen last night was a dream come true but having a film like this remaining so timeless does not hurt. The film is full of heart and the charm of Matthew Broderick is what elevates this from becoming just your average teenage comedy. I wish they would make more fun and creative films like this; no one tackles such a fun concept without falling into clichés and crude jokes. John Hughes created something truly special here. 12/11/2018.”

Since its release in 1986, Bueller, has remained a pivotal teen film for multiple generations. In 2016, Bueller turned 30 years old and Chicago celebrated the only way they knew how to: with a Ferris Fest. People were able to visit his heavily decorated bedroom, recreate the scene where Ferris pretends to be Sloan’s father picking her up from school, and of course a recreation of the famous parade scene featuring Twist and Shout. While this is more of a high scale remembrance of the 1986 film, you can see other companies paying homage to Bueller. During the 2017 Superbowl, Dominos aired a commercial where they recreated the infamous scene of Ferris racing home to get there before his parents find out he skipped school. Stranger Things (Matt Duffer, Ross Duffer, 2016—) actor Joe Keery plays Ferris but this time he is racing home because his Domino’s pizza tracker just sent a notification to his smartwatch informing him that his pizza is about to arrive. When asked about the commercial the executive vice president of creative direction at CP&B said "This being an iconic movie we knew we had to pay homage to it and not deviate, not change it and put our own kind of spin on it outside of using Joe Keery and maybe making it a modern adaptation,".

Below you can see the original scene and then Joe Keery version.

youtube

It can be agreed that this film has been relevant way past its release date. But why is that? Frances Smith looks to understand teen films as a whole and why they become so iconic. In her book Rethinking the Hollywood Teen Movie: Gender, Genre, and Identity, she explores this question and more. In Easy A (Will Gluck, 2010), the main character Olivia (Emma Stone) struggles to identify with the “hook up culture” happening around her within the high school hallways. She looks to the eighties to fantasize about a better life.

Whatever happened to chivalry? Did it only exist in Eighties movies? I want John Cusack holding a boom-box outside my window. I want to ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist in the air because he knows he got me just once. I want my life to be like an eighties movie.” (138-139)

To this Smith says:

This voiceover and the corresponding images reference Say Anything (Cameron Crowe, 1989), Can’t Buy Me Love (Steve Rash, 1987), Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, which is presented for its musical number. With the exception of Sixteen Candles, all of these films center on male characters who, though cheeky, are portrayed as sexually innocent. The gestures to which Olive refers are particularly telling. Having her life ‘directed by John Hughes’ appears to involve her engaging in ostentatious courtship rituals in which the female partner is the grateful recipient of male affection, however dubious the circumstances in which it is bestowed.

Olivia dreams of having the production that teen heartthrobs would perform for their love interests. This is one reason that Bueller has remained so relevant today. No matter how the culture changes, everyone wants someone who would be willing to show the world how much they love them.

Another reason that this film has remained so relevant today is because of the underlying theme within the film is something that will never go away. The drive to find yourself and get out of your small town to explore is something that will always be a shared feeling among teenagers. In Kimberly M. Miller’s Clueless Times at the Ferris Bueller Club: A Critical Analysis of the Directional Works of Amy Heckerling and John Hughes she says

A fine example can be found in the response to the film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, which received criticism for being too similar to Risky Business (Paul Brickman, 1983), as well as “lacking in irony,”10 and yet Ferris has become ingrained in the popular culture—even being ranked number ten on Entertainment Weekly’s “Fifty Best High School Movies” list (2012),11 in addition to being quoted by teens who see Ferris as a role model of “cool” despite the nearly thirty years that have passed since he took his day off.

Teens idolize him for doing what they have always wanted to do so they are able to live through him and his amazing day off.

Overall, Hughes has delivered a number of teen films that lasted well past their release date and will continue to be relatable in the future. Bueller is the perfect example of this because its underlying themes will never go out of style. Everyone wants to be a “righteous dude” and live their lives with the carefree regard for the rules that Ferris showed us back in 1986.

2 notes · View notes

halsteadpd · 5 years

Text

Lost and Found

Special thanks to @queseraone for coming up with the title and helping edit and basically coming up with the idea

Being a cop in Chicago was a highly stressful job. Basically that meant Jay Halstead needed a lot of stress relief.

One of his favourite things to do was going for a run through the park near his apartment. It was always full of families spending time together, usually at the playground or feeding the ducks at the pond. He would often bring his nephew Owen just to see the little boy smile and hear his precious giggles as he watched the ducks eat the bread he’d throw into the water.

But today Jay was on his own. He laced up his sneakers and put his bluetooth headphones in his ears before grabbing his phone and keys, making his way out the door. He stretched his legs out when he arrived in the park and pulled the hood of his sweater up over his head when he realized it was colder than he thought. On those extremely cold days, he would settle for one of the treadmills his apartment offered in their gym, but he wasn’t a big fan of them. Jay loved the fresh air he got to breathe in most mornings.

He quickly set his pace and allowed the music blasting in his headphones to distract him from everything going on in his mind.

After running a few miles, Jay stopped to look at his watch. He carefully calculated the time it would take to get back home, take a shower and eat breakfast before he would be needed at work when he felt someone staring at him.

Looking around the park, he noticed a German Shepherd patiently sitting near an empty bench, looking at him with its head cocked to the side. Jay immediately noticed the collar around the dog’s neck so he came to the conclusion that is wasn’t a stray dog.

Slowly, Jay walked towards the dog, not wanting to startle it. He could see how the dog began to get excited by the way it wagged its tail and stood up.

“Hey buddy.” Jay called out softly. “Where’s your owner, huh?” The dog barked in reply as he watched Jay approach. Carefully, Jay extended his hand out towards the dog, waiting for it to make the first move. The dog pushed its wet nose onto Jay’s hand, sniffing before licking his palm. “Good dog.” Jay praised as he rubbed the dog’s fur with his other hand. Looking towards the dog’s tags, Jay took a hold on the bone shaped one. “Zeus.” He stated as he watched the dog respond to his name. “How about we go to my place and get some water before calling your owner to pick you up?”

As Jay stood up, he realized the dog didn’t have a leash on him. He had no idea how he was going to get Zeus back to his place until he noticed the dog obediently waiting for him to make a move. Walking forward, Jay looked back and noticed the German Shepherd followed behind him, stopping when he stopped. “You’re a really well trained dog aren't you buddy?”

When Jay got home, he filled a bowl with cold water before placing it onto the floor and grabbed a bottle for himself from the fridge. He watched as Zeus emptied the bowl quickly before expectantly looking up at Jay.

“You’re still thirsty?! Alright.” Jay dumped the rest of his bottle’s content into the bowl and chuckled as the dog emptied out his water dish again. “How about we call your owner so they can come pick you up? How does that sound?” Jay reached over towards the tag again, searching for a phone number. He pulled his cell phone out from his pocket, dialling the number before bringing it up to his ear. He listened to it ring a few times before it went to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Erin Lindsay. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Hey. I found your dog in the park. Call me back as soon as you can and we’ll meet up.” Jay hung up the phone before turning his face towards Zeus. “I guess it’s just us for a while.”

While Jay got ready to go to work, Zeus napped in the sun that came through the large floor to ceiling windows. He would open his eyes when he heard Jay walking around, wanting to know what he was up to. When he smelled food cooking, he made his way into the kitchen and sat by Jay’s feet.

“I have no idea what I’m going to do with you while I’m at work so I hope this works as a bribe to not trash my place.” Jay pulled the pan off the stove before moving the bacon onto a plate to cool down. He walked around the kitchen, getting his own breakfast ready before returning to the plate of bacon. “Hopefully Erin won’t be too mad that I gave you this.” Placing it onto the floor, Jay watched as the dog ravenously ate the meat. “I think I’m gonna have to pick up some food for you. Bacon won’t cut it.”

After finishing breakfast and grabbing his badge and gun, Jay sat down in front of Zeus. “Be a good dog, okay?” He scratched the dog’s ears before making his way to the door to slip on his boots before leaving.

***********

Erin couldn’t believe what had happened. She doesn’t even know how he got out!

She worked the overnight shift at Med and came back to an empty apartment. Usually Zeus would come running at her, having missed her the whole night although he had been sleeping.

After calling out for him a few times and searching her apartment a couple of times, she realized he wasn’t there.

She wanted to cry.

She ran down to the lobby to ask the doorwoman if she had seen Zeus run out, but she hadn’t. Erin ran around the neighbourhood, calling out before returning home, defeated. As much as she wanted to find him, she was fresh off a 12 hour shift and was exhausted. Being a nurse in the ICU meant that she needed to be on her toes at all times—there was no telling when she would be needed in a life saving situation.

She collapsed on her bed and cried herself into a fitful slumber, unaware of her phone ringing in her jacket pocket.

When she woke up, the sun was setting in the distance. Quickly realizing she didn’t set her alarm on her phone, Erin jumped out of bed and ran into the shower.

After getting dressed and ready to leave for another night shift, she realized she wouldn’t have enough time to eat and make it to the hospital in time. She stopped by the local pizzeria down the street and sat at a table while munching on her dinner. She pulled her almost dead cell phone out of her pocket when she noticed she had a voicemail. Putting her phone to her ear, she thought she was going to collapse upon hearing the stranger’s voice on the other end.

“Hey. I found your dog in the park. Call me back as soon as you can and we’ll meet up.”

She called his phone—not wanting to waste a second on getting her German Shepherd back—and held her breath as she listened to it ring.

“Hello?” He finally answered just as she was about to hang up.

“Hello, hey you left a voicemail and said you found my dog?” Erin said, jumping straight to the point.

“Yeah. Zeus. He’s at my place right now actually. Did you want to meet somewhere or…?” Jay left the question hanging, not wanting the woman to feel uncomfortable around him.

“I have work in about half an hour. Can you meet me at Chicago Med?” Erin silently thought about what she could do with Zeus while she worked. She knew the day shift would be getting off soon so she could have one of them take Zeus home. “If you can’t I can have somebody meet you wherever.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you at Med.”

**********

Erin waited outside the main entrance to the hospital with her hands deep in her coat pockets. She had charged her phone in the car on the drive over but she expectantly looked around, waiting to see her dog.

She heard barking in the distance and saw Zeus pulling hard on the leash held by the stranger.

“Oh my God, Zeus I was so scared!” She said as the dog raced over to her and licked her face. “How’d you get out of the apartment?” Obviously, the dog didn’t reply. He circled Erin’s legs while rubbing up against them. Looking up, Erin noticed that the stranger was watching them with a smile on his face.

At a second glance, she noticed how the stranger was insanely hot.

She did a once over of him and although he was wearing sweatpants and a puffy winter parka, she knew he was physically fit. God she would kill to see what his arms looked like.

“Hey.” Erin said, bringing his attention to her. “I honestly can’t thank you enough. I’m Erin by the way.”

“Jay. It was honestly no trouble. I usually go for runs in the park and he was chilling just watching me.” Jay walked towards Zeus and scratched behind his ears. “We had a fun time together.” Erin watched as Jay’s own eyes did a once over of her. She was usually disgusted when men did so, but there was something about him doing it that made her feel good.

“Well I’ll see you around I guess.” Jay said with a bit of sadness in his voice. When he first saw Erin, he honestly thought his heart jumped out of his chest. She was absolutely gorgeous and he wanted to touch the deep dimples in her cheeks. He had the absurd thought that one day their children would have the same indentations. Too bad he wasn’t confident enough to ask her out.

There was no way a woman like that could be single. He turned away slowly and walked back to his car, looking back once to watch Zeus and Erin interact.

Maybe one day. He thought.

**************

The next morning, Jay warmed up and stretched for his run as he usually did. He put his headphones in his ears and set off on a light jog until he made it to the park. His feet pounding the cement felt therapeutic and all his thoughts and worries turned off for the time being.

Halfway through his run, he heard a familiar sound.

It was the sound of a dog barking. But it wasn’t any dog, it was Zeus!

Zeus ran full speed at Jay, jumping up to lick his face as he had done with Erin the previous night.

“Hey bud.” Jay said as he rubbed the dog’s fur. “Did you get loose again? You know you can’t keep doing that.” Jay was momentarily distracted by a piece of paper around Zeus’ collar. He gently ripped it off and read the word ‘dinner?’ scribed onto the paper.

Looking around, he noticed Erin slowly making her way towards him with the smile he loved so much on her face.

So maybe that one day would be quicker than he thought.

Leave some reviews friends!

#linstead #linstead au #linstead fanfiction #jay halstead #erin lindsay #jay x erin #erin x jay #chicago pd #chicago pd au #chicago pd fanfiction #Jesse Lee Soffer #sophia bush

52 notes · View notes

boneandfur · 5 years

Text

The Roses of Elysium[1][Marc Antony x MC]

Summary: if you love someone, they'll come back. It's 1926 Chicago when Marc Antony meets a mysterious yet familiar singer named Tia. Can Antony and Tia find happiness in the world of speakeasies and sin? Or will Tony be forever haunted by dreams of Elysium? // Notes: this was written with the wonderful @a-whore-of-rome who kindly let me co-write this piece with her. Crossover with Speakeasy Tonight (Lovestruck). // Rating: Mature. Later chapters may be rated 18+ and will be tagged as such. // Words: 5760 // Please leave a comment to be added to my permanent tag list. apologies if you’ve been double tagged for this by both of us.

•••

Chapter One

1926 ~ Chicago, IL

“The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,— They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.” ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay.

•••

He had lived many years without her, her memory fading at times, enough that he could live with and love other women, and yet… Now, at the end of it all, she was all he could think of. Not his newly dead lover, the mother of his youngest children, not any of the other women he had loved in the intervening years, but her. The Princess of Gaul. “I’m waiting for you…” ... "My love,” he whispered, the noise and the confusion fading and the vision becoming clearer this time when he reached for her, he felt something solid. The pain disappeared, along with everything else. Everything except her... ••• Marcus Antony's eyes snap open, heart pounding as it did back in France, just before the sergeant screamed for them to go over the top. His thoughts are muddled, racing, one stacked atop of the other like the layer cake his mother used to serve every Christmas. His hands shake, waiting for the inevitable whistle of the shells, bracing himself. But the room is silent, and the stillness breathes. Antony... Come to me. He can hear her voice in the room, clear and crystalline as lark-song, the red poppies opening their petals to the first rays of morning, gentle as death's first kiss. A woman, standing in Belleau Wood, like an angel...

Outside, a jalopy backfires, and then he is on his feet in the dark room, reaching for a rifle that isn't there, the same one that did for that Hun sniper in France, the kill he got a Victory Cross for. Antony closes his eyes, lying back down in the bed, and sleep comes again, but it is not restful. He closed his eyes as he slid the sword into his flesh and sure enough, she was there again. Back in the red silk, her eyes warm and tender, holding out her hand to him… There was pain, but it faded at the sight of her, and he reached for her, yet he couldn’t quite touch her…

Sand... so much sand it could fill a thousand hourglasses, a thousand lives in each grain. A sword, red and sticky with his blood. An old man, a conquerer, at the end of his life. A life lived for nothing, for no one except himself, and no one to share it with, except... her. "I'm waiting for you..." Already fading, with the sounds of the night. He reaches out to grasp her, but the red silk dress slips through his fingers, and his hand is covered in blood. There is pain, and a lot of it, he looks down and the wound in his side seems to bloom, blood obscuring his vision. She is waiting... The woman in the red dress. "My darling Antony.” Her green eyes are wide, her smile soft, dark curls framing her face. “Let go… Let go of it all and come to me…” Antony stumbles from the bed, gripping the washbasin and splashing cold water on his face. He does not know what he expects to see when he looks in the mirror. Sand and sun, and an old man's face, a man who has seen war. But the War didn't change anything. Back in Chicago, he was still the same dirty immigrant who had gone off to the trenches of France, young, dreaming of glory. And he'd come back a broken man, to a house full of shadows, and Lucius... Antony throws the cup at the mirror. It bounces off, splintering the shining glass. Lucius never came home. Buried somewhere in an unmarked grave, just another dead boy who died for Country, for Glory, for nothing, for nothing that mattered. And once Lucius -- Luca -- was dead, Marcus died too, and became Antony, rising up through the ranks of Caesar's outfit to be his top lieutenant and right hand man, the war and everything in it put behind him. "Antony? Come back to bed." Antony does not look back at the mirror. Wherever she is, whoever she was... He straightens his back, and walks away from it, the dream fading into the city night.

•••

~Portia~

“Where does Mama think I’m taking you?” My brother wonders as I slide into the passenger seat, looking at me expectantly, reminding me of his condition: he’ll give me a ride but he won’t help me lie to our parents.

“Marcella’s, of course,” I tell him with a shrug as the car springs to life beneath us, the sound filling the otherwise quiet street. I know that the neighbours are muttering in their houses, about that “German boy” and his loud car. I’ve lost track of how many complaints Papa has gotten about it in the months since Cal, Ciginerix if Mama is in earshot, bought it.

“And does Marcella know that?” Cal asks as the houses that make up our neighborhood speed by us.

“She does,” I confirm, “this is Marcella, she’ll do anything for me.”

“But she didn’t want to come?” It isn’t a question, even though it is poised as one.

I laugh at the thought, “No. You know Marcella, loyal enough to lie, but too good to go sinning.”

“And is that what you are planning on doing, little sister?” Cal asks, giving me a long look. “Are you looking for sin?”

“Only the musical kind,” I assure him, even if it is only partially the truth. Part of me longs for romance and adventure, the kind you see in the movies. The kind that doesn’t happen for good church-going girls in small American towns. Which is what makes nights like tonight so special, because I didn’t have to be that girl.

After that, we drive in silence, and I watch through the car window as the familiar merges with the unknown. The small sleepy town I have spent my whole life trapped in morphs into Chicago, the city of my dreams.

After what feels like forever, but really isn’t, the car pulls to a stop. “Wait over there,” I tell Cal as he reaches for the door, “I need to change.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t take too long.”

As soon as the door shuts behind him, I quickly discard the skirt and blouse I’d worn out of the house under my mother’s watchful eye, and shimmy into the red beaded number I keep hidden in the car. I quickly apply some lipstick, red so bold that Mama would drag me off to confession if she saw it, and then hurry out of the car to where Cal is waiting.

His eyebrows shoot up at my change of attire, it might be the lipstick, which is more daring than I usually risk, but he doesn’t comment. He never does. Maybe because I am not the only one who keeps secrets from our mother. Cal has his own reasons for coming to the Ice Box.

We hurry through the alley, to the nondescript door and exchange pleasantries with Andrew, the bouncer, and then he steps aside, letting us through. Inside, it is a whole different world, one filled with secrets, sin and hot jazz.

Cal quickly moves across the room and I head towards the bar.

“Tia, I was starting to wonder when we’d see you again.” The bartender, Cliff, comments with a warm smile as he begins to fix my usual.

“Life’s been busy,” I answer evasively. Here, I am Tia, a good-time girl and aspiring singer, instead of Portia, the sweet girl who does the paperwork for the quarry and lives under the watchful eye of her pious mother. Here I can be who I want, instead of who I have to be.

Cliff nods, letting it go, which is what I like about Cliff, he never asks too many questions. He slides my drink towards me.

I accept it with a smile, passing over a bill in return, and then get up and wander towards the stage where the singers are about to take a break.

“Tia!” Sofia greets me warmly, brushing her lips across my cheek in a friendly kiss, “we were hoping you would be here tonight. Cleo and I have a number that is perfect for you.” She motions behind me, waving at someone, and a moment later Cleo Mayfield, the Ice Box’s number one talent, appears beside me.

“Tia, I see you were able to break out for a night,” the amusement in Cleo’s voice lets me know that she sees what I try to hide. It doesn’t surprise me, neither Cleo or Sofia ever miss much.

I don’t confirm it, though, I just nod and change the subject. “Sofia says you have a song for me?” I am not employed by the Icebox, but on my first visit, Sofia and I had talked music and she persuaded me to sing for her, and ever since then I have had an invitation to join them on stage if I am around, letting me have a taste of what I want most in the world.

We go over the arrangement for a few minutes and then, I glance up, and suddenly I see him. He looks like he stepped out of a moving picture; tall, dark and handsome, clad in an expensive suit, with a flapper hanging off his arm, trying vainly to get his attention while he talks to Vince. I can’t tear my eyes away from him, not just because of his good looks, though he certainly is handsome, but it’s something else.

I know him, I think and then shrug it off, sure that I have never seen him before in my life. After all, this is not a man you would forget meeting.

The man glances in my direction, our eyes meeting across the room, and for a moment something akin to shock crosses his. However, he hides it quickly, his eyes sweeping over me, quickly appraising me, the heat in his gaze letting me know he likes what he sees.

“Who is that?”

I don’t even realize I’ve spoken out loud until Cleo sighs, placing her hand on my shoulder before she answers. “That is trouble, the kind a nice girl like you should avoid.”

“His name is Antony,” Sofia pipes up. “He’s one of Caesar’s top men.” My ignorance must have shown on my face, because she adds, “Caesar runs one of the city’s biggest outfits, and Antony is his right hand. He’s a power player, that one.”

“He’s dangerous,” Cleo says flatly, shooting Sofia a disapproving look, then she glances pointedly at the stage. “Break’s over, we got a crowd to entertain. You ready, Tia?”

I nod and follow her. Yet as I begin to sing along with Cleo and Sofia, my eyes keep finding Antony and every time they do, he’s staring right at me, drinking in my every move.

For a moment, the whole speakeasy fades away and it is as if I am singing to him alone…

•••

It's her. The woman from his dream. The red dress, the green eyes, the dark hair, down to the last dimple in her cheek, the one he used to kiss when... "You like the little canary?" Vince raises his glass, and turns to look over his shoulder at the girl singing on stage. “That's Tia, she doesn't work here. She knows Cleo and Lottie.” At his wife’s name in his mouth, Moretti’s eyes go to the crowd, where the Ice Box Flapper moves through the club, a smile tossed over her shoulder for her husband, who taps his fingers on the table. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat.

"She's sure got a set of pipes on her." Beside him, Atia raises a disdainful brow, fluffing her platinum bob as Vince lights her cigarette. "Sounds like a cat in heat!" She tugs on Antony's arm, trying to get his attention, but he ignores her. There'll come a time, now don't forget it / There'll come a time when you'll regret it / Someday, when you grow lonely / Your heart will break like mine and you'll want me only / After you've gone, after you've gone away…

The strains of the piano fade away, and the canary (Tia, that name in his head, why does it sound so familiar? For he's never seen her before…) blushes prettily to the sound of applause. Antony can't tear his eyes away from her. It's as though the whole speakeasy has fallen away. He can hear Moretti speaking, as though through a fog. Get ahold of yourself, old man. Unwittingly, he thinks of France. The angel in Belleau Wood... Roses and cinnamon, mingled with the scent of decay, and the desert... The band starts up, and the fog dissipates. The speakeasy comes back to him, color and sound, people laughing, glasses clinking, women pushing back their chairs to run out on the dance floor and shimmy like there's no tomorrow, beads rattling on their short skirts. And the woman in the red dress... He doesn't see her anywhere. Antony scans the room, a skill honed from years on the Front. There is no other woman for him in the room, only the one sitting at the bar, the hem of the beaded red dress hiked above her knee, laughing with the bartender. Tia. Another man approaches, that smooth-talking Englishman, and instinct takes over. Antony stands. He doesn't hear a word Vince says, he ignores Atia tugging at his sleeve. All he sees is what he wants, and hasn't he always taken what's his?

•••

After the song is done, I make my way back to the bar, Cliff sliding me another drink. I smile but before I can thank him, a smooth voice interrupts.

“Tia, breathtaking as always.”

Normally my heart flutters when Elliott flirts, even though I know better than to take him seriously. However he is still the Elliott Graham and there is a thrill in having his attention, even momentarily, but not tonight. Tonight my attention is elsewhere. Even as I thank Elliott for the compliment and flirt back, my eyes searching the room for Antony. However, I don’t find him.

I feel a stab of disappointment that he may have left already and I almost miss Elliott’s next words.

“Ready to shake those pins?” He asks, holding out his hand with a charming smile.

I am about to take it, because Elliott definitely knows how to dance, when a smooth voice cuts in. “I believe this dance is mine.”

Elliott and I both turn towards the sound of the voice. Though I already know who it is, his voice as familiar as an old song, even though I’ve never heard it before in my life. At least this life. It is a fleeting thought and it fades as my eyes meet Antony’s and the rest of the world stands still.

Elliott quickly drops his hand, “Never mind… I forgot, I have a pressing engagement at the card tables.” He moves swiftly, disappearing the crowd and leaving me alone with Antony. I barely notice his absence, all I am aware of is Antony.

"So this is your dance, huh?” I tease, trying to keep my cool. “I don’t remember you asking.”

“I’m asking now,” he says as he holds out his hand. I see him signal to Julius with his other hand and the music swiftly changes mid-song to a foxtrot.

I take the hand he offers, unprepared for the jolt that goes through me when our hands touch. Our eyes meet and I can see he feels it too, though neither of us says anything as he leads me onto the dance floor. We move together with ease, and even though I try to remember Cleo’s warning, all I can think about is how right it feels.

Like this is where I belong. It is a dangerous thought, almost as dangerous as Antony himself.

•••

Time passes, yet Antony cannot say how long, only that every movement is etched in his memory. But this is it. If the song ends, and she walks away now... His thoughts go unwittingly to the dream the night before. Of sand and blood, and the woman in the red dress. His hands tighten around her waist for a moment, and with a tiny sigh, she allows him to pull her closer, almost too close for two strangers (but are they strangers?) to be. When he finds his voice, it is as though the world has fallen away. "Dinner. With me. Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up." She'll wear that red dress again. She'll smell of roses and cinnamon. "Wear this dress." He rubs the hem of her sleeve between his fingers for a moment, and when she looks up from under her lashes, he is undone. Tia looks up, and for a moment, he expects her to say no. There is a longing in her eyes, but there is reticence too. "I can't." She swallows, looking aside to where a big German man stands beside the bar, a scowl etched on his face as he watches the pair of them. Antony feels jealousy tighten his chest, constricting it. "Who is that?" Antony demands, fighting to control his roiling emotions. "Your lover?" Tia looks surprised. Good. He can't say why, exactly, but Antony knows this like he's never been so sure anything in his life before: that this woman belongs to him and him alone. "No, that's Cal. He's my older brother." Tia looks up at him, her green eyes dreamy and honest, and there it is again. That knowing, bone-deep. "I keep his secrets, and he keeps mine." "And what is your secret, Tia?" Antony spins her around, and when she comes back into his arms, flush and breathless, he feels a stirring of lust. He wants her here, he wants her now. He wants to see those green eyes under him, her pupils dilating as she comes, groaning his name. Like she did before. But where did that thought come from?

Instead of lingering on it, Antony’s fingers ghost across her lower back, and she shivers, biting her lower lip and looking up at him -- not the way all the flappers look, as though they are assessing him for the size of his cock and the depth of his pockets, but with a tiny smile, one that lets him know he’ll have to work for it with this one.

Antony never could back down from a challenge. He ghosts his lips along the shell of her ear, and for a moment, they are the only two people in this crazy city, in this mad world. “Because... you are a mystery.”

But Tia is already shaking her head. He can feel the angry eyes of the big German -- her brother -- boring bullet holes into his back. "I have to go.” Her voice is filled with longing -- with regret. The same regret he feels.

She moves to pull out of his arms, but Antony tightens his hold, unwilling to let her slip away so soon. I've only just found you again. He grasps at a way to keep her with him, Vince’s words coming back to him, about her not being employed at the Box, and suddenly he knows. “I’ve been looking for a new singer for my club. If you want it, it’s yours. You just have to audition for management, but with those pipes…” Lena wouldn’t be thrilled with him dumping a new girl on her, but at least she can sing and well, it’s his club.

Her eyes grow wide and he can see the longing there, wants to see it directed at him -- not for a job, but -- For now, it’s enough, old man.

Even before she nods, he knows he has her. This time... she won’t slip away.

•••

“What kind of place is the Basilica?” I ask the girls the a week later when we meet up to go shopping. Cal reluctantly drove me back to the city for my audition, though he had made his displeasure known.

“Dangerous,” Cleo answers flatly. Cal isn’t the only one who thinks that this audition is a bad idea and Cleo isn’t one for holding her tongue.

Lottie shoots her a look. “It’s a faster clientele than the Box,” she answers, biting her lip in consideration, “you’ll see more flash there and more skin.”

“And you’ll need to be the flashiest,” Sofia adds, pulling me past the rows of beaded dresses, the standard flapper fare, to the back of the store. If Mama would send me to confession for the dress I’d worn the other night, these ones would have her praying for my very soul.

“It needs to be red,” I declare, perusing the racks of shimmering fabric, remembering the way Antony’s eyes had darkened with lust as they swept over my dress, the note in his voice as he’d commanded me to wear it again. Besides red was the colour of danger, the colour of sin, and I was about to go in search of both.

It didn’t take long to find the dress and I clutch the box in my hands, afraid it will disappear and with it, Tia the daring flapper who could sing at clubs and catch the eye of men like Antony, and I would be left with my ordinary life.

“Portia!”

The sound of my name cuts into my thoughts and my grip on the package tightens as I turn around. My eyes widen at the sight of Cassius, the man my mother wants me to marry. I can hear her in his head, He’s such a nice young man, and he was, but was I was nice girl he thought I was? Or was I was flapper who wore dresses the colour of sin and melted into the arms of dangerous men?

My inner turmoil obviously doesn’t show because Cassius is all smiles. “What a nice coincidence, running into you here. You remember my cousin, Sabina?”

Sabina, of course. We’d gone to school together and then she’d gotten married and moved to Chicago and we’d lost touch. I turn to her with a smile, “of course, it is nice to see you again.”

“You too,” she answers, but I notice that her eyes pass over on me to lock onto Sofia and there is something there, a nervousness but something else as well, something more familiar. Interesting.

“We were just about to get lunch,” Cassius continues, “I’d love it if you joined us.” He finally seems to notice the other women, “and your friends too.”

Sabina’s eyes widen at the invitation and another look passes between her and Sofia.

“That is very generous, but we were just about to part ways,” Sofia speaks up, “I’m sure T—Portia, would love to, though.” My real name sounds strange coming from her and I’m about to ask what she is doing, but the question dies on my lips at the pleading look she sends me. It seems I am not the only one with secrets.

“Yes, I would,” I say smoothly as I pass my package to Sofia, not wanting to risk having it with me at lunch. I was planning on dressing at her place anyway, though my hand tightens on it for a moment before I let go and I feel a moment of panic, as if Tia is slipping away from me.

Cassius’s smile lights up his face and I know it should do things to me. It should be enough to make me forget about the Basilica and dangerous men whose eyes promise me things that girls like me shouldn’t even know about, but it won’t.

That thought returns long after lunch is over, when I am at Sofia’s apartment, transforming myself back into Tia. Why am I doing this? I ask myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I think of lunch and how Cassius’s eyes had lingered over me, the warmth of his smile, how he had made it clear where his attention lay. It should be enough. But it wasn’t and thoughts of Cassius were quickly replaced by thoughts of Antony, of the way his eyes had swept over me as if he had intimate knowledge of me, the way his arms had felt wrapped around me, and how badly I had wanted to stay there forever.

And that is the thought that compels me to finish applying my lipstick and step back from the mirror, pleased with my transformation. There is no hint of sweet church girl in the reflection staring back at me, just a woman ready for sin and song.

Time to show them what you are made of.

Like the Icebox, the Basilica is nondescript on the outside and a whole other world inside.

It is early, so the club is nearly empty except for the staff. My eyes search the club, instinctively looking for Antony, but I don’t see him. Disappointment fills me, but I push it aside. I came to sing, not for a man.

“We’re closed,” a beautiful woman in a glittering dress says, her eyes running over me, appraising me.

“I am here for an audition,” I tell her, meeting her gaze.

Irritations flashes across her face and she gives me another sweeping look before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You?”

Before I can say anything, another woman crosses the floor. Older than the first, probably my mother’s age, but still incredibly beautiful.

“Xanthe,” she says in warning, putting her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder and then she turns her attention to me, her gaze just as appraising as Xanthe’s, “you must be Tia, Antony mentioned you, I’m Lena, the manager.”

Xanthe’s gaze hardens at the mention of Antony, “is Antony humouring his latest conquest by letting you pretend to be a singer?” She asks in a nasty tone, her eyes glittering with dislike.

“Xanthe!” Lena admonishes, before I can deny her accusation. And can I? I know why I am here, why Antony is giving me this chance and it’s not because I wowed him with my voice, and yet… Isn’t opportunity what you make it? And this is mine.

Xanthe quiets down, but the dislike is still there and the barely concealed resentment. Why? I wonder, what could I have done to make her hate me in only a few minutes?

“At least you look the part,” Lena declares, reclaiming her attention, her eyes sweeping me up and down, “now let’s see if you can sing.”

“I can.” I declare, tiling my chin defiantly. Maybe I didn’t get this audition based purely on talent, but I have it. I know I can do this.

Lena nods approvingly after I finish. “Not bad,” she declares, “but singing in front of the crowd is the real test, you have to move them.” She purses her lips. “You can open for Xanthe tonight and we’ll see from there.”

.I can tell by Xanthe’s scowl that she doesn’t like that news at all, but I ignore her. This isn’t about her, it is about me and my chance. I've sung in front of people before, yes, this is different, this is my chance to be the star and not just a supporting player, but the music all comes from the same place.

I can do this.

That is the only thought in my head later on, when the club is full and I am on stage. I can’t blow this.

I glance at the crowd, trying to read them, and stop for a second when I see a familiar face. Sabina. Our eyes meet and I see panic and something else, but I just give her a little nod and smile as I begin to sing and I see her relax. She has her secrets, just like I have mine, and this is the place for them. The kind of location meant for secrets and sin.

As the music takes over, I forget about Sabina, just like I forget about Xanthe and Lena and everything that is at stake. I let the music take over.

Then, I glance into the crowd again and this time, I see him. Antony. My heart begins to beat faster at the sight of him and my attention shifts to him. It’s no longer just about me and the music, suddenly I am singing for this one man, the one my heart insists is mine even as my head tries to remember how foolish and dangerous that thought is. However, for the moment there is no rational though, no doubt, there is only music and feeling.

There is only him.

•••

The Basilica is thronged with people when Antony gets there. So much for a quiet night, old man. Word must have gotten out at the Box, he thinks as he spots Sofia Martinez and Julius Harper in the crowd. His paid copper star, O'Malley, is leaning against the back wall, surveying the crowd with a complimentary whiskey in his hand, regards of the house. O'Malley raises the glass in his hand with a brief nod of acknowledgement in Antony's direction, but his eyes are trained on the stage -- or rather, on the girl onstage -- (Mine.) Tia. Antony doesn't realize he's said it aloud until the man next to him looks up from his cigar, ashing it carelessly on the floor. "You should hire her, Tony." Caesar murmurs, clapping him on the shoulder and startling him. Antony whirls on Caesar, for a moment his fists tighten, and he's in France, Luca beside him, cigarette smoke mingling with the dense fog of Flanders. "Got a pretty voice." Caesar's eyes roam up and down Portia's curves. It's obvious that Tia's voice isn't what he's thinking of, and Antony has to take a gulp of sambuca to stop himself from taking a swing at the older man. "Let's give a round of applause for our guest tonight, Miss Tia!" His manager, Lena, speaks into the microphone, and the room erupts into thunderous applause. Antony observes Lena hide a smile, and from the wall the copper star puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. The only person who looks unhappy is -- "And now, give it up for our very own Miss Xanthe!" The applause is scattered, with Xanthe's cousin Sy, the bouncer, leading the majority of it. Xanthe has made enemies for herself at the Basilica with her diva's attitude and bad temper. Antony will be glad to see the back of her. "Antony? Lena said you would want to see me before I left." Tia is before their table, and all the men are on their feet, nodding to her respectfully before departing for back rooms to gamble and discuss the business. Only Caesar remains. He lifts his glass, giving Tia an assessing look that Antony doesn't like above half. "If my idiot of a nephew doesn't hire you on the spot tonight, you come and see me down at the Styx. Those pipes weren't meant be to be silenced forever, filing dusty papers." The blood drains from Tia's face, and Antony wonders what secret she could be hiding. He keeps his expression smooth, but his fingers are digging into the back of the chair he pulls out for Tia, snapping his fingers at a passing waiter. Mercifully, Caesar chuckles, and with another slap on Antony's shoulder, clamps his cigar between his teeth and vanishes into the crowd. The waiter returns with a glass of merlot, and Tia sits down, arranging her skirts. The music and laughter seems to fall to a whisper beyond them, as though they are the only two people in the club. Stars shining bright above you / Night breezes seem to whisper I love you / Birds singing in the sycamore tree... "Dream a little dream of me..." Tia sings along softly, almost unconsciously. She's nervous. Antony caresses the sambuca snifter in his hand unconsciously, his eyes drifting over Tia's slender curves. The crimson dress is a different one from last week's, he's certain of it. Yet it fits her as though it were made for her -- Like a velvet glove. He imagines pushing it up her thighs, the luscious crimson lips opening like a blossom as she gasps out his name, throaty and deep. "Antony." He startles at the sound of his name in the strega's mouth. This is a voice that men would go to war over, in times of old. She plays with the stem of the wine glass. She is so young. And yet that ambition, that hunger, is in her eyes. But I need to hear her say it. She already has the job. She's had it since the night they danced, and he hasn't stopped thinking of her since. "I'd like to --" Tia smiles when Antony takes her hand, leading her into a languid fox-trot on the floor, the two of them moving to the rhythm of their pounding hearts. "I'd love to sing at the Basilica, Tony." The sound of his name in her mouth strikes a chord in his heart down the years, as though he never lost his innocence in a field of blood and poppies, as though he is still a young man, with all the world strung out before him, shining in her eyes. Green like the hills, the mountains he would climb as a boy, he and Luca following the sheep, dreaming of America, of the men they would one day be. "Shall we seal the deal?" He is drawn to her lips, and when he brushes his thumb over them, she looks up at him like the woman in the dream. With a kiss. Antony's mouth brushes over Tia's, and he groans as she parts her lips, one cool hand coming up to cup his cheek as he bends his hand and tastes her. Roses and cinnamon, and the heat of a thousand suns...

Footnotes for ch 1:

Lyrics are from After You've Gone, by Bessie Smith; Dream A Little Dream by Ella Fitzgerald

an outfit was a Chicago gang

But in your dreams whatever they be/Dream a little dream of me

#a courtesan of rome #marc antony x mc #marc antony #acor #speakeasy tonight

18 notes · View notes