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luckhound · 3 years

Text

— heavy burdens.

pairing. kaeya/gender neutral reader

genre. angst

description. on an important anniversary, kaeya gets drunk off his ass, bonds with a fellow captain, and realizes some burdens can’t ever be set back down.

warnings. spoilers for kaeya and diluc’s character stories. mentions of alcohol and a character (kaeya) being under the influence.

note. four months later and i’ve finally finished this fic after writing it on and off for that whole time mskfjdks a big thank you to sierra, miya, and grace for reading over the previous drafts of this and giving me their honest thoughts, love you ladies <3

He hadn’t expected to get shitfaced when he had first stepped foot in the tavern. Honest.

His plan for the evening was as follows: Go to Angel’s Share, chat with patrons, share some laughs, learn some secrets, and see where the night goes. Only the information he gleaned would tell how it ended; with him stumbling back to his quarters for a night’s rest, or ruminating on how to dismantle schemes that enemies of Mondstadt were concocting in the shadows.

So, the usual. Nothing too noteworthy.

Then he happened to overhear a conversation on the way there.

The two civilians spoke in low, somber tones about how it has been exactly one year since Master Crepus’s death and his son Diluc’s subsequent departure from Mondstadt. How terrible, they mused as they shook their heads, that the new winery master hasn’t been heard from since. He must still be in mourning over his father.

Kaeya nearly stopped in the middle of the crowded street. Was today really the one-year anniversary of Master Crepus’s death? How had it managed to slip his mind? He’s been busy lately with a promising lead, true, but to think that he would forget...

Which, long story cut ruthlessly short, leads him to where he is now. Tuning out his tumultuous thoughts with the help of alcohol and secrets.

Upon entering the tavern to raucous cheers, he had flitted from table to table like the social butterfly he's purported to be. The usual suspects greeted him with varying levels of warmth, inviting him to sit and keep them company. Stable hands and bandits alike shared a drink with him, words spilling from their lips like the fine wine they supped on.

After some time, though, he grew tired of their monotonous days and banal gripes. So he retreated to the bar counter. As he nursed a Death After Noon, he kept an ear out, listening carefully even as he chatted with Charles between customers.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything juicy yet. So and so is complaining about his wife, while someone else is haranguing her boss, and another is celebrating their birthday. Dull and uninteresting.

Can you blame him for getting so deep in his cups? There’s nothing else to do on such a slow night.

“So this is where you decided to hide out. Colour me surprised.”

Kaeya notes the shadow falling over the counter moments before a familiar drawl reaches his ears. He tilts his head up, blinking furiously when his vision blurs. The drinks he's downed thus far—how many has it been? He lost count after five, how unlike him—have certainly reached his bloodstream.

You stand beside his stool, your lips thinned into an unimpressed line. Despite how inebriated he is, the relevant information he has on you flashes through his mind. A Knight of Favonius. Captain of the Intelligence Team. Once a company grade officer, then sergeant, lieutenant, before ascending to captain upon the retirement of your superior.

As admired as he is by most of Mondstadt, you’re among the minority who are far from his biggest fans. For good reason, he supposes. During your first meeting, he had congratulated you on your promotion, before going on to flippantly insult your old captain. You’ve hated him ever since.

Which is why he’s puzzled by you approaching him first—outside of headquarters, at that. Such a phenomenon is rare, like catching a crystalfly in your hands.

“Captain! Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, adopting a jovial tone. Then your words register in his addled mind. “‘Hide out’, you said? Whatever would I do that for?”

You prop a hand on your hip. “You didn’t make an appearance at the meeting today. Needless to say, the Dandelion Knight isn’t too impressed with you at the moment.” You appraise him, looking underwhelmed by what you see. Ouch. “Strange. You don’t seem terribly ill to me.”

Ah. That. Kaeya had wanted to investigate some curious rumours he’d heard around the city, so he made up a flimsy excuse to dodge the captain’s meeting held this morning. Grand Master Varka likely hadn’t batted an eye over it, but not Jean. She’ll have concerns.

He hums noncommittally. The thought of annoying his oldest ally never fails to bring a smirk to his lips, but he isn’t quite in the mood right now. “Is that so. You must be here to sternly tell me to clean up my act then.”

You scoff. “Surely you don’t need a second babysitter. No, I’m off-duty, so I’m here for the same reason everyone else is: to drink.”

“Hear, hear.” He lifts his tankard as if to toast to you, but the sudden momentum causes him to sway dangerously in his seat.

“Careful!” Eyes widening in alarm, you reach out to steady him. “Geez, Alberich. How many drinks have you had?”

The palm of your hand is warm where it sits on his shoulder; he can tell that even with his furs in the way. He almost leans into the touch but catches himself at the last second. How mortifying. He can just picture your horrified reaction to him drunkenly nuzzling up against you.

Almost falling off his seat in a crowded tavern, instinctively seeking out your slightest touch... He needs to get a hold of himself. Or find a way to halt the conversation here, so he can resume drinking by his lonesome.

“Not nearly enough,” he answers airily, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. You drop your hand to your side; he makes a point to not stare at it as you do. “Where’s your entourage? I’m surprised they aren't following dutifully behind you.”

“They’re my subordinates, not my entourage.” You shift awkwardly. “And they aren’t here. It may surprise you, but they have lives outside of the Intelligence Team. They can enjoy one evening without their captain breathing down their necks.”

He eyes you in amusement. “In that case, you should join me. I would welcome the company.” He finishes off his tankard, then motions to Charles for another drink. The bartender doesn’t even ask which one as he takes the pewter mug. He knows him well by now, after all.

Kaeya expects you to turn him down and find a seat elsewhere. Usually, such an invitation is enough to send you running for the hills. You lean a hip against the counter instead, as if settling in. “If I am not mistaken, you’re needed at headquarters tomorrow. I strongly advise you to call it a night, Captain.”

“Aww, are you worried about me, Captain?” He manages a grin at the scowl his reply elicits. “Don’t be. It won’t be the first time I stumble into work hungover. Certainly won’t be the last either.”

“How reassuring,” you say dryly.

“I aim to please.”

He perks up when Charles returns with a full tankard. The delectable taste of Death After Noon still sits on his tongue, warm and heady. He very much wants to experience it again. When he lifts the mug to his mouth, however, he misses the rim. He steadies the tankard before it empties itself onto his lap, but some of the wine drips down his chin, ruining his vest.

Thank goodness he isn’t drinking red wine. Every adult in Mondstadt knows red wine stains are notoriously difficult to clean. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good sip.

“Oh, for Barbatos’s sake.” That’s all the warning he gets before his drink is rudely snatched from his hand. He protests but can only watch helplessly as you bring it to your lips.

Then you proceed to down it.

His brows raise higher and higher the longer your throat bobs. He's never seen you drink with such gusto before. Shouldn’t you be gasping for breath by now? But no, you empty the tankard in a single go, then slam it on the counter (Charles makes a face, but wisely says nothing) and meet his gaze without flinching.

Wow, is all that his intoxicated mind can conjure up at the feat.

“There, all done. Now let’s go. I am walking you back.” Your voice is firm, brooking no argument. How captain-like of you. “Wouldn’t want Mondstadt’s illustrious Cavalry Captain to be found passed out in an alleyway tomorrow.”

On any other day, he’d be mildly irked by your stubbornness. But he did just spill his drink down his front like a newborn babe. No wonder you brought up his rank. In your eyes, his conduct must not befit that of a high-ranking knight. He doesn’t care what assumptions people form about him, never has, but tonight has been a bust anyway. Maybe it's best to call it quits.

Sighing theatrically, he rises to his feet. “All right, I know when I have been beaten. But don’t change your plans on my account. I can head to the barracks by myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” you say, “but letting you walk alone this late in your state would grate at my conscience. So would you stop talking for once, and let me take you home?”

You get what you want. Your words render him silent.

Home, you called the barracks. He supposes you consider that place your home. But is it his, truly?

He thinks of Khaenri’ah, nothing but a distant, bloody memory. He thinks of his father, and how in their final moments together, the man had stared through him like he wasn’t there. He thinks of the Dawn Winery, where he had spent several years causing mayhem. He thinks of Master Crepus, never dad, and a brother who doesn’t exist anymore.

No, the barracks aren’t his home. Maybe he’s never had one to begin with.

When he comes to, Kaeya registers you leading him in the direction of the tavern door, your hand on his shoulder blade. This quickly catches the attention of the patrons. They call out their goodbyes, some raising their tankards and others chuckling good-naturedly.

“Look at that! Our Cavalry Cap’n had too much to drink, eh?”

“What, are you tapping out already, Captain Kaeya?”

“Has to be escorted out by a fellow knight, no less!”

You wave over your shoulder. “Just doing my patriotic duty, that's all.”

Kaeya gives his audience an exaggerated wink (as well as he can with his one uncovered eye) followed by a lazy hand salute. His grin remains fixed in place until the door swings shut. The wooden barrier barely muffles the sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within.

Had it been that loud while he was inside? He hadn’t noticed.

He isn’t able to dwell on it for long, because you nudge him in the direction of headquarters. “Come on. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Let’s get to it.”

“Oh, very well. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.”

You nudge him harder, and he snickers under his breath as he walks.

This time of night, the cobblestone streets seem devoid of life. With the exception of Patton, who’s practically asleep standing up, the two of you don’t run into anyone. It's a stark change from how the city usually is, bright and bustling with crowds.

It suits him just fine, though. The crisp night air is sobering him up somewhat, the fog that had settled over his mind thinning. All too soon, he recalls everything he was trying to suppress.

Master Crepus. Diluc. His callousness and cruelty in forgetting them both.

In hindsight, he should have taken his mug back from you instead of just gaping like a fool. Sobriety is such a drag.

“You’re quiet,” you comment. You’re staring at him intently, your expression eerily similar to Timaeus’s when he is observing an alchemical reaction. It’s as if he is a specimen that you are keen on studying under a microscope.

He wants to scowl, to snap at you. “My apologies,” he says instead, as innocent as can be. “Were you waiting for me to strike up a conversation? Hold on a moment, let me think of a good topic...”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. It’s just, usually it’s impossible to get you to stop talking. The times I have seen you...indisposed”—buzzed as a bee, you undoubtedly mean—“that doesn’t change. You talk more, if anything.”

Curiously, your voice softens, an odd cadence colouring it. One he has not heard from you before, not directed at him at least. “I guess I’m just wondering if something is weighing on your mind. Is that what prompted you to drink so much tonight?”

By now, the two of you have walked down the stairway to the Knights of Favonius’s bulletin board. Of course, Hertha isn’t there this late to assign requests and bounties. The pieces of parchment pinned to the board flutter in the breeze. He stares at the sketch of a Ruin Guard, willing his sluggish mind to craft a suitable answer.

After a beat, his eye slides over to you. An impish grin curls at the corners of his mouth. “My, I had no idea that you watched my every move so closely. I’m flattered by the attention.”

Predictably, you sputter. “What even—that is not—you know what, if you want to dodge the question so badly, fine. We can just walk the rest of the way in silence.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

Although his words were said to fluster you into changing the subject, as you had correctly deduced, Kaeya means them. You have noticed him far more than he realized. As Captain of the Intelligence Team, it’s your job to be observant and keep tabs on others. He knows that. Still, it’s disconcerting to learn that you’ve had a close eye on him in particular.

He operates from the shadows for a reason; he can’t have you jeopardizing that by shining a light on him. Five months into your new position, and already you have proven yourself to be dangerous.

As you wished for, silence reigns as the two of you turn into an alley and approach two flights of stairs, leading to the center of the city. Kaeya resists pressing a hand against the nearest wall for balance. He had walked down a stairway unaided just moments ago, despite how unsteady he felt. Surely ascending some steps would prove to be easier.

Rather than focus on his feet, he looks up ahead. From his position, he can just barely glimpse the blades of a windmill, ever-turning against the dark backdrop of the night sky. He keeps his gaze there as he climbs, his boots scraping against stone.

He clears the first flight of stairs with little issue. See? Nothing to it.

Halfway up the second, Kaeya stumbles.

His surroundings tilt, blurring as he fumbles for balance. It’s a futile effort. Thanks to how inebriated he is, his limbs are too heavy and uncoordinated. The stone below rushes up to meet him.

Before his face can greet it, however, you catch him.

Your side moulds against his, a hand clasping his hip while the other carefully grasps at his spiked pauldron. His gloved hand covers yours reflexively as his racing heartbeat settles. He feels you stiffen at the touch, but you don't pull away. Neither does he.

For a moment, not a word is spoken between you both. The alley is filled only with the soft sound of breathing.

Then you click your tongue. “So much for heading back by yourself. You can barely keep your feet under you.” Your voice lilts with humour.

He knows this song and dance. It has been ingrained in him after all these months. You snark at him, he snarks back. Rinse and repeat. Although this is the first time he has heard levity in your tone; the first time it has been aimed at him, that is. He almost hadn’t thought you capable of it.

He straightens with a chuckle. “First at the tavern, and now in an alley. I just keep falling for you tonight, don’t I?”

You blink owlishly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then a flustered expression crosses your features, before you compose yourself. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips twitch. “You would.”

Kaeya expects you to move away, so the two of you can resume walking, but you don’t. “Not that I mind having your hands on me, but...will you be letting go any time soon?”

“That depends.” A challenging glint appears in your eye. “Can you handle walking on your own? Or do you need me to cradle you the rest of the way to headquarters, like some damsel?”

He guffaws, taken off-guard by the retort. A reply escapes his loosened tongue before he can think better of it, “Archons, that sounded just like him.”

“Like who?”

“My brother.”

In the past, despite being underage, he was sometimes able to charm bartenders at Angel’s Share—new hires unaware of how to deal with him as of yet—into serving him drinks. Diluc would find him eventually, a disapproving twist to his mouth, and put a stop to it.

Back then, Kaeya was a lightweight and had to be supported back to headquarters. Diluc would scowl and roll his eyes the entire way, but there was still a softness in his gaze. His hands were strong, but careful; Kaeya knew that his brother would not let him fall. He could even be persuaded to join in when Kaeya began to sing, their off-key voices disturbing the silence of the night.

Come morning, while Kaeya nursed the inevitable headache and Jean nagged him about violating the Knights of Favonius Handbook, Diluc would snort. “Serves you right,” he’d say, then hand him a draught for curing hangovers.

Now Kaeya must weather the pain alone.

You tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on his. “I had no idea that you have a brother,” you say softly.

Had, he nearly corrects. But he has told you too much already.

This is why he is so careful when drinking in the company of others. Alcohol is a double-edged sword; as delectable as it is, it also loosens inhibitions. It’s what he relies on when charming information out of allies and adversaries alike, none of them the wiser of what they have given up.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, now you do.” A trace of bitterness enters his tone.

You eye him, quiet, before pulling back. You motion forward with your chin. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll never make it to headquarters at this pace.”

Relieved by the subject change, he listens. He makes a conscious effort to place one foot in front of the other, gaze trained on the remaining steps below. You stay at his side, closer than you were before. He can feel your hand hovering at the small of his back, ready to catch him should he trip once more, but he ignores it.

It won’t happen again. He’ll make sure of it.

The alley opens up to a view of the market district. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have long to enjoy the reprieve. The two of you turn right, away from the railing overlooking the main square, to climb two more flights of stairs. A left, and more stairways await.

By the time the Knights of Favonius Headquarters looms above you, Kaeya’s legs ache from the walk. He is very much looking forward to retiring to his quarters.

The knights stationed outside stiffen at the sight of you and Kaeya, standing at attention. They perform a salute in perfect unison. Do they rehearse that before every shift? Surely they must.

The guard on the left, with the glasses and unfortunate haircut, chirps, “Good evening, Captains! I hope you are doing well.” He appears wide awake despite the late hour.

At least the one on the right looks appropriately haggard. “Welcome back,” he grunts.

While Kaeya brushes past them with a nod of acknowledgement, eager to head inside, you stop. “Good evening, Athos, Porthos. Your shift ends soon, I hope? It can’t be terribly interesting, standing watch outside headquarters so late.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain!” Athos, as you had referred to him, says. “Guard duty may not be glamorous, but it is still important.”

“Much as I agree with the lad, I can’t bring myself to be so damn cheerful about it,” Porthos sighs, his words tinged with self-deprecation. “Must be ‘cause of these old bones.”

“That’s not true, Sir Porthos. Your bones aren’t that old!” the younger knight argues, prompting the older to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Athos isn’t wrong,” you add. “You are far more sprightly than most knights I know.”

“If that’s true, then Mondstadt is in trouble.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you finally pass by them, climbing the short steps to return to Kaeya's side. He lifts a brow as he pulls on one of the large oak doors, holding it open for you.

It’s almost comical how quickly your smile disappears. Your eyes narrow as you enter inside. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says breezily, following after you. The door falls closed behind you both with a loud, echoing thud. “Just that I didn’t know you were so chummy with the guards.”

It is blindingly bright inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, as if it isn’t nearing midnight. The sconces on the walls are lit up, as is the chandelier hanging in the center of the main hall. The two of you make your way towards the—joy of all joys—staircase. The barracks for knights are located on the second floor, and on the floor above that, separate quarters for the captains.

“I am off-duty right now. It’s not unprofessional for me to speak informally with them.”

His eye widens. “Why, I never said it was unprofessional, Captain.”

You grind your teeth so hard he can practically hear the enamel wearing away. “You implied it.” No, he didn’t. Your distaste for him has you imagining mockery where there is none. As if Kaeya has any room to judge someone for acting unprofessional.

“I did? That’s news to me.” Privately, he marvels at how easily he can agitate you. Him, no one else—he has observed you long enough to know your prickliness is reserved for him alone. Maybe that’s why he annoys you further instead of clearing up the many miscommunications that tend to occur. Not that you’ll believe him, even if he’s being completely honest.

You huff. “How the Dandelion Knight manages to put up with you, I’ll never know,” you mutter.

“How rude, Captain! Jean doesn’t put up with me, she considers me indispensable.”

You cut a look at him. “Yes, I’m sure she thought the same when you failed to show up to today’s meeting.”

“Must you bring that up again? I shudder just thinking of the lecture she’ll have ready for me in the morning. Perhaps my mysterious ailment should plague me for a little while longer...”

“Prolonging the inevitable will do you no favours.” You pause briefly, then add, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention. After the meeting, I ran into Inspector Eroch. He was waiting outside and asked after you. He seemed irked when I informed him that you were absent today.”

If Kaeya was not so skilled at masking his reactions, he would’ve perked up at that. He might have even stopped in his tracks or whipped his head around to look at you. But he knows better than to give himself away so obviously. He leisurely climbs the steps, his features revealing only vague interest. “Oh? Somehow I doubt he was upset out of concern for my wellbeing.”

You glance over. “I wouldn’t know. He did not say anything when I asked why he wanted to see you, or if I could pass on a message. He just brushed me off and left.”

“Don’t be hurt by his shameful conduct, Captain. I for one enjoy your company immensely.”

You ignore his thoughtful statement. “I thought that he might have had a prior engagement with you, which you missed due to being terribly ill.”

He shrugs. “If we did, I don’t recall it.”

That earns him another look, longer than the one before. He doesn’t flinch away from it, his expression remaining serene. Privately, he wonders what you know. Are you merely intrigued by what Inspector Eroch might want with him? Or are you more aware than you’re letting on?

After all, Eroch is the one Kaeya has been secretly investigating for the past year.

Looks like the inspector has caught on. About time. No doubt he wants to figure out just how much Kaeya knows—which is not much, unfortunately. He knows that Eroch has more than just Mondstadt’s best interests in mind; a Fatui spy like him would have just the opposite. But he is unsure what the man is up to, or who he even is.

He does, however, have an inkling. Several, even.

Inspector Eroch had been insistent on covering up the details of Master Crepus’s death. For the good of Mondstadt, he claimed, not wanting the citizenry to lose faith in the Knights of Favonius. Grand Master Varka had ultimately sided with him. It resulted in Diluc resigning his position and leaving the city a year ago.

Kaeya had kept an eye on the inspector after that. He knew there was more to the situation than just preserving Mondstadt’s trust in the Knights, and it had everything to do with the dangerous and evil power Master Crepus had harnessed. It was only a matter of figuring out what. And once he has all of the information...

Well, he knows what Diluc would do, once upon a time. Blazing with righteous fury, he’d take his findings to Grand Master Varka, insisting on Eroch’s arrest and expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. He would see it as retribution for how poorly his father’s death had been handled.

But Kaeya suffers from no delusions. Maybe he looked into Eroch because of Master Crepus. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge for what happened. Maybe he yearned to atone for his past inaction. None of that means he has any heroic intentions.

If it serves his interests better, he won’t expose the inspector immediately. He will hoard his knowledge instead, keeping his cards close to his chest until it’s the right time to play them.

That is how he has always operated. Master Crepus's death and Diluc's departure have not changed that. For a brief, nonsensical moment, he wishes they had. Then common sense returns to him. A foolhardy sense of justice is of no use to him. He’ll leave that to Diluc.

While he extricates himself from his wayward thoughts, you turn away to clear the last few steps. “If it is important, surely he will try to approach you again,” you say.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.”

You scoff, rightfully skeptical, but don’t respond. Clearly, you are content to leave it at that.

He wonders at how easily you let the subject drop. Had you suspected something, you would have pushed to learn more, wouldn’t you? Now is as opportune a time as any; it’s late, he’s tired and drunk, and the both of you are alone. Does that make you oblivious, or an idiot, or crafty?

Having made it to the third floor, the two of you make your way down the hallway. His quarters are before your own, three doors on the left. He stops in front of his door, reaching into one of many hidden coat pockets to produce his key.

He glances at you. You have yet to leave for own your room. “You don’t have to hover at my side, you know,” he says with a touch of amusement. “I may be tipsy, but I am no longer in any danger of being harassed by ruffians or passing out in the streets. Unless you're secretly harbouring nefarious intentions towards me, Captain.”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” is your unruffled response.

Chuckling under his breath, he unlocks his door and lets it swing open wide. It’s dark inside, faint moonlight shining through the small window above his desk. Coupled with the sconces out in the hallway, however, there is enough light for him to stumble to his bedside without stubbing a single toe. He doesn’t bother to close the door on you; he has nothing to hide.

Kaeya knows what his quarters must look like to a stranger. They’re a mess, as if someone had searched them in a haste and not bothered to clean up afterward. The walls are bare, save for a map of Mondstadt that he’d hung up ages ago. Tomes of all sizes and loose leaves of parchment litter his oak desk, pushed up against a wall. A quill lies abandoned atop a half-finished note with ink drying on its nib. His closet door is cracked open, a discarded boot dissuading anyone from forcing it shut.

Yes, his quarters are a mess. But he knows exactly where everything is. Should someone actually attempt to search his things, he would know immediately. Not that they would find anything particularly damning. He isn’t foolish enough to leave important documents or sensitive information lying about—nothing he is unwilling to part with, anyway.

“Horrifying, but unsurprising,” he hears you mutter to yourself.

Kaeya doesn’t even consider slipping out of his ruined clothes or engaging you in further conversation. Now that he has made it back to his quarters, all he can think about is the sweet embrace of sleep. He sinks into his unmade bed, draping an arm over his face.

You continue to linger in the doorway. “You should change before you fall asleep.”

“Mhm.”

“You'll regret not doing so in the morning.”

“Uh-huh.” He still doesn’t move.

“Alberich. You stink of booze.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy, Captain. I’m impressed.”

You sigh, long and loud. He waits to hear the door close behind you, only for you to walk up to his bedside. Your steps are slow, hesitant yet purposeful. He stiffens, immediately on-guard, but fights his instincts in order to remain still. What are you planning?

He feels you grip his boot. Metal jingles as you undo the buckle. Then you pry it off.

He lifts his arm to peer up at you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You set his boot on the ground, then move on to the other one. “If you won’t change, you should at least take off your shoes. You’ll dirty your sheets otherwise.”

Oh, you make it so easy for him to twist everything you say into an innuendo. For once he resists the urge. “You forgot something,” he says instead. He wiggles his sock-clad foot at you. Just to see if you will do it.

You grimace, swatting his leg away. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near those.”

So you say. But you’re taking his boots off for him out of your own volition. There is no need for you to do any of this. It’s not your duty to stop him from drinking himself into a stupor, or walk him back to headquarters unharmed, or all but tuck him into bed. Yet here you are.

What is it that you want? There have been plenty of opportunities for you to try and take advantage of his drunken state, but you have sidestepped every one. Frustration brews in his sternum.

“Do you do this for everyone who you hate?” he finds himself asking, tone purposely lighthearted.

You pause in your ministrations to stare at him. “What? I don't hate you.” At his disbelieving look, you insist, “I don’t. You have always been a pain to deal with, sure, but I never once felt that way.”

He smiles, unconvinced. “Not even when I insulted your dear old captain?”

“Insulted my... That was months ago, when we first met.” Despite your bewilderment, you take a moment to contemplate his question. “I was upset with you, yes. But now that I’ve had this position for some time...maybe your assessment wasn’t off. When I was lieutenant, I didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my captain. They were too set in their ways and scorned most criticism. I respected them, and still do, but I shouldn’t be ignorant of their faults.”

Your gaze meets his once more. “In a way, what you said that day led me to realize that. You weren’t badmouthing my captain; you didn’t have a vendetta or want to get a rise out of me. At least, I don’t think you did. You must have legitimate issues with their leadership, as a captain yourself.”

He watches you shrewdly. Your tone was even, your expression clear. He cannot detect any deception from you. Of course, that means little. Still, perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

A headache, newly formed, pounds at his temple. If he were more sober, he would be better equipped to handle such a revelation. He’ll have to come to a proper conclusion later.

You fiddle with the buckle on his remaining boot. “And what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“You have ample reason to look down on me. Most of the knights know that you aren’t just Cavalry Captain and Quartermaster. Your role is more important than that. Surely you would make a better...” you trail off, your jaw working silently.

Kaeya knows how that sentence ends. Surely you would make a better Captain of the Intelligence Team than me. It doesn’t come as a surprise.

Up until now, he thought he knew you well. You made it no secret you loathed him. You have never said so explicitly, but he has a talent for reading people. It’s a classic case of envy. He has seen it many times before. You compare yourself to him and find yourself wanting. It colours the way you interact with him; your words brusque, your gaze narrowed.

Not only did he insult your captain, but you consider him more capable than you. Your hatred makes sense. It’s predictable.

Or so he believed, until tonight.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked.” Uh-oh. Seems he took too long to respond. You busy yourself with unbuckling his boot, avoiding his eye.

If he were to be honest, there are many ways he could answer you. He thinks you are a better captain than your superior could ever hope to have been. He thinks you are a leader capable of inspiring undying loyalty in your officers. He thinks you have a deep, unflinching love for Mondstadt and its people. He thinks you constantly push yourself to greater heights, to the point it lights a fire in him as well.

He admits to none of those things, in the end.

“Give yourself some credit, Captain,” he murmurs. You glance over in surprise. He meets your gaze. For perhaps the first time in a while, he hopes his words sound sincere—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does. “I know the officers under your supervision think you’re a good leader. They wouldn’t want anyone else to take your place.” Certainly not someone like me.

Instead of reassuring you, however, his answer seems to do the opposite. You look frustrated. “That isn’t what I...” you trail off. You search his features, silent, before your brow furrows. “I can’t tell if you mean what you just said. Sometimes I’m not sure I ever can.”

He takes care not to allow his features to visibly harden. Of course you would doubt him, the one time he tries to be honest with you. What else did he expect? Maybe you don't hate him, maybe you never have, but that means little. You won’t ever fully trust him. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.

His mouth tastes unbearably bitter. It must be the wine.

“At this point, I’m willing to say just about anything if it’ll mean I can get some shut-eye.” He feels no satisfaction upon seeing your shoulders stiffen. He still manages to grin. “Well, Captain? Any other requests?”

“No,” you say. Then you tug off his boot with a brisk motion.

He stifles a yelp. “Hey, now! No need to be so rough.”

“My sincere apologies.” You set the boot down next to his other one, your lips thinned. “I should go. Wouldn’t want you to lose more sleep than you already have. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.”

Talk about vindictive. Despite his irritation, he has to fight a smile. Knowing you, you’ll see it and take it the wrong way, as you usually do.

Having finished removing his boots, you turn and walk for the door without another word.

He’s struck with the odd urge to stop you. To reach out, take your hand in his, and tug you back. Not because he wants something from you, or needs to tell you something. He wishes you would stay a little longer, that’s all. Wants the silence to be filled by your voice instead of his thoughts.

Now he knows he’s had too much to drink. He’s contemplating such ridiculous things.

Before his addled mind can catch up and he can say something, apologize perhaps, you shut the door behind you. Your footsteps travel down the hallway, slightly hurried. The door to your quarters creaks open then closed.

He’s too late. It’s for the best.

Kaeya lies back and stares up at the ceiling. His vision swims, as if he’s adrift at sea. Closing his eye only makes it worse.

His mind pores over the events of the day. Investigating Eroch, remembering Master Crepus and Diluc, visiting the tavern, running into you. He feels restless, pulled in several directions at once.

With a harsh exhale, he rises to his feet and locks his door. Then he begins his nightly ritual.

His pauldron is first to go. It hits the floor with a dull noise. Then he peels off his gloves and tosses them on the desk. The burns on his hands have long since healed, but he still deals with numbness now and then. Not many know they even exist; he doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of a potential weakness. His eyepatch follows closely after.

He removes the Cryo Vision from his belt last. He stares at it, its blue glow washing over his scarred palm and turning his skin a sickly brown hue. If it’s been a year since Master Crepus’s death, it has been about a year since he was gifted a Vision as well. The sight of it has been a hard reminder ever since. Of how he’d won a difficult battle. Of how he’d finally revealed the truth. Of how he can never speak it again.

He tucks the Vision under his pillow, then collapses back into bed. An odd sensation fills him, as it does every time he completes this ritual. It’s like he has taken off every scrap of armour he has and foolishly exposed himself to danger, despite being alone in the stillness of his quarters.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him under.

It never does.

#genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #m writes #i can't believe this is finally finished n uploaded... wrow #never thot i'd see this day #i'm nervy posting this ngl it's been. a while since i've written smth like this #hope y'all like it !!!!

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dulafer · 3 years

Text

TWIN REVENGE

This is an old one, just thought I’d share..... Its of my shortest stories. Any feedback appreciated - [email protected]

REUNION

I’ve always been the odd twin out. Will and I were both named William C. Witt with the only difference being our middle names – Charles and Conner. I’ve never liked being called ‘Willy’ while William preferred ‘Will’. Growing up, our parents couldn’t tell us apart - we even have the same birthmark on our chins.

I’ve always been jealous of Will for being the favorite. Many times, I’d answer to my brother’s name on purpose or force Will to swap places with me. The first time I was Will was when he was failing algebra in 9th grade and didn’t want our parents to find out. We swapped places so I could take his tests. My condition was that I stay as him for the day – soaking up my parent’s adoration and love. Will was definitely our parent’s favorite which pissed me off the older I got, often lashing out for attention. In high school I started impersonating my brother to get him in trouble. Sometimes, I would get caught because my brother would have an alibi with friends backing him up, or I’d would slip up wearing my hair differently or some other little detail.

By our junior year, I started hanging with another group of friends and dealing drugs. My reputation for trouble followed me as my ‘business’ grew. Will knew what I was up to because people would mistake him for their dealer. Weeks before graduation, the principal caught me selling drugs red handed, thanks to a tip from Will. Since Witts are a powerful family, Dad worked a deal to allow me to graduate on the condition that I spend the summer in rehab. The deal was made and the day after graduation, Dad drove me to the rehab center. I lasted a week before escaping and never being seen again.

My drug pals smuggled me out of Los Angeles to northern California. San Francisco was the perfect spot for me. With my college age looks, I blend in on local high school and college campuses where my business grew exponentially. I wear the college gear that fit the campuses I was working daily. I’ve always been thrifty with my earnings and always a light user myself so I saved my money for a future free of drugs. When I can, I sit in on college classes, mostly political science since my father was always drilling politics into Will and I.

Will on the other hand, was the perfect son. He attended college for political science, becoming a staunch conservative. But Will wasn’t always perfect. After two years in college, he dropped out and was hired at Prager U as a campus correspondent to interview students and follow trends. Will quickly picked up a fan base nationally and within months was buying a condo and new car – with the help of a proud rich father. Will travels the country giving speeches, interviewing people and blogging.

Mom and dad have all but forgotten about me. I faked my own death and changed my name when I heard my family was looking for me. It was convincing enough that the Witts even had a funeral for me.

CAMPUS LIFE

I’m at Stanford University working my regular ‘route’, supporting my boys with product. A few girls spot me, come running over and one screams. “Oh my god, Will! I’m your biggest fan.”

I wonder why they’re calling me Will and fawning over me? “Hi, thank you so much.”

“We can’t wait to hear you speak. You going to do a ‘man on the street’?” the other one squeals.

“Sure am.” Not knowing what that is even. I see one of my boys coming over for his weekly stash. “Excuse me ladies, I’m meeting an old friend.”

Tyler comes over with his usual swagger carrying his backpack. “Do I have competition bro?”

“No, not at all! You know you’re my main man.” We do his frat’s handshake. Anyone watching us would see us both in Stanford gear and just assume we’re students. We take a seat on a nearby bench, talk business, two minutes later, he’s leaving with my backpack full of drugs.

I walk around campus, wondering about those two girls calling me Will. When I get to the campus hub, I see my face plastered all over the board. The flyers reads ‘Will Witt, Prager University, Topic: Campus Diversity’. I pull one off the board, fold it up and place it in my backpack pocket. I’ll be damned, my little brother in town. I have to see this for myself.

I get home and study the flyer, find the Prager U site and start watching my brother’s videos. We’re so alike with our political beliefs – neither of us have fallen far from our father’s tree. We both have the same attitudes and beliefs as good old dad. He even sounds like dad did, around the dinner table our entire life. I then log into his Instagram account, using Will’s password he’s been using for a decade. I’m getting envious of my brother’s life – he’s still the golden boy and I’m sure dad is super proud of him. He’s traveling all over the world thanks to this Prager gig. On top of that, he’s become famous on Fox and other mediums for being very articulate and full of energy.

As I watch him, I’m getting very envious of Will. I’m as smart and talented as my brother. I could have been the favorite son, the celebrity. ‘Should be, could be, will be.’ I think to myself. That should be my life.

The next day, I head to a theater supply store and buy a fake belly, beard/mustache and some make up. I’ve got to see my brother in action today. Will is scheduled to do a ‘man on the street’ interview on campus this afternoon, then the speech later tonight.

I show up for his man on the street interview but hang way back, out of sight of Will. With my disguise, I’ve gained 50lbs, a full beard, sunglasses and wearing a tie dyed hoodie. I watch and listen as Will, his producer and camera man set up everything. I record everything with a shotgun microphone - hearing the back and forth banter between Will, his cameraman Gavi and Mike, his producer. That evening, I attend the lecture in another disguise just to be safe. I’ve haven’t seen Will in over two years but he’s still the same arrogant Will in private. In public he’s very friendly and charming. As I’m listening to Will speak, a plan starts to formulate in the back of my mind. Willy is already dead to the world, so why not become Will. It’s not like I’m inexperienced in doing it. It would always piss Will off when I would steal his identity and fool his girlfriends. While he was taking a shower, I would get dressed first, take his clothes, phone, car and pick up his girlfriend who was clueless. Will would be pissed but I would apologize and he would forgive me. One time Will called his girlfriend while I was impersonating him and couldn’t convince her that he was actually Will – I was that good.

I start tracking my brother via his emails, calendar and social media. Will is flying from Los Angeles to Washington for a week, with Turning Point USA to promote Prager U and himself. Our parents will also be gone on vacation to Europe for months, with plans to hook up with Will in London for lunch and a show in a month.

MOVING TO LOS ANGELES

I need to formulate a detailed plan. Will has lived the good life long enough, it’s my turn now. I start with cleaning up my life here – telling my friends that I need to disappear again. They buy it easily as it has happened before. I clean out my bank account – about $1m, and drive to Hollywood where Will lives.

I rent a furnished apartment across the street from Will’s condo. It’s perfect – from my living room and bedroom, I can see his entrance and garage. I keep my fake beard and baseball cap on all the time, and only use the back entrance to go anywhere. On his departure day, I watch him being picked up by an airport service and confirm his flight took off on schedule. I head to my bathroom and remove my beard and hide my longer hair under a baseball cap. The condo manager gladly provides ‘Will’ with a spare key when I tell him I lost mine.

Will’s condo is very nice with an open floorplan. There’s 3 bedrooms and 3.5 baths. The lower level is a 2 car garage, lots of storage, a large video recording studio and utility room. His silver Porsche 911 Cabrio is parked next to a motorcycle. On the wall is some leather gear, boots and helmet. The 2nd floor has a large living room with exposed brick walls, huge flat screen, fireplace, bar, gourmet kitchen with top end stainless steel appliances and a personal office. The 3rd floor is all bedrooms with a huge master suite with large bathroom and large walk in closet. The one spare bedroom is sparsely decorated with just a bed, dresser and chair. The other bedroom is mostly empty. It’s a great ‘crib’ but I’m certain daddy helped pay for most of it.

I get to work quickly with my plans. I try to check out his studio’s computer but its password protected and I can’t get it to unlock. This isn’t a problem after I plug in a thumb drive with keystroke tracker and some other tricks. In a minute, I gain access to all his computers and social media accounts. The password was his usual password but backwards.

His iMac Pro is a wealth of information – full of his unedited videos, speeches and even a digital diary. I thought he stopped doing a diary in 11th grade but apparently not. He updated it just this morning before leaving. I’m sitting there for hours reviewing his life since I left. His comments about my death and funeral are cruel to say the least. He blames me for fucking up life with my death, how mom & dad are glad it’s over and they’re all better off. Even my father agreed with him. That’s fine by me, they won’t miss Will at all when I take his place.

I decide to spend the night here and continue my studying. In his basement studio there is a green screen, professional video cameras and teleprompters set up in one corner which he uses to make his cutesy videos. I turn on the equipment, click on a file and up pops the words to his last blog on the teleprompter. On another display in front of the green screen pops up the empty stool where he sits. On the stool is a remote I believe is for controlling everything. I plop my ass down, face the camera, and see myself, or Will on the display in front of me. I fuss with my hair to give me Will’s prominent cowlick, press ‘record’ and the words start moving for me to perform. “What’s up guys, Will Witt for Prager U” I repeat his performance, then delete file before passing out at 2am, after seeing his posts on landing in Washington DC.

LOOKING THE PART

My brother prides himself on his hair, especially the huge cowlick that he’s proud of. According to his calendar, he had a haircut a few days before leaving for Washington. I make myself at home taking a shower, and pulling on some of his clothes – dark gray skinny jeans, t-shirt, jacket and his black high top converse sneakers. I’m missing his clunky watch and ring he wears all the time, and also his rope crystal necklace he’s been wearing since he was 15. The one time I was with one of his girlfriends, not having that necklace on, gave away my identity. I jump in Will’s Porsche and find a salon with a great google rating. I ask for my usual and show her pics from two days ago. They’re very close up and detailed. In half an hour, I’m smiling at Will in the mirror, running my hand through his cowlick.

Back home, I pull in to the garage and before I can close the door, some pretty little thing is running over to me.

“Will! Hey there, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh hey, you caught me.” I smile and act surprise.

“Tammy and I are having a party tonight.” She hands me a flyer ‘Jen and Tam’s Big Party’.

“That sounds like a blast, ‘Jen’.” Hoping she’s the ‘Jen’ on the flyer.

“I was just going to slip it in your mailbox. Thought you were going to Washington or someplace exotic again.”

“My DC trip was postponed, so I’m here.” I give her a typical Will smile.

“Washington’s lost is our gain. You have to come. Besides you can crawl home if you get drunk like unlike last time.”

“I’ll try my best but super busy here.” I chuckle with her, not sure what she’s referring to but Will’s diary will probably help me remember some of it. I’d love to go but there’ll be lots of iPhones around and plenty of pics/videos posted on social media.

A friend sent me a lot of WiFi HD fiberoptic video cameras and microphones to bug my brother’s place. I place a few in each room then sync them to my iPad. Walking from room to room I test them all for activation. It takes all day to hide them properly. Later on, Will’s latest VLOGs and antics from Washington start appearing on his desktop.

His video reminds me how different our styles are. Will was always conservative dresser while I went for the grunge look. His videos confirm his tastes haven’t changed at all except becoming more expensive. I’m making myself at home – it’s going to be my future home soon anyway. With my new haircut, it only takes a little of his gel to look exactly like him.

It was always fun turning myself into Will when we were younger, it’s still a turn on now. I print out some pics from his PC files, showing various outfit he’s worn. I’ve got to nail his ‘look’ perfectly for my future life. There’s one of him in a sharp black suit, white shirt and black tie playing a piano, with a red lapel thingy at a Prager U gala a month ago. We both took piano lesson but I was always a little better.

It’s easy finding the outfit in his very organized closet. He took it off, left the lapel pin in and probably hasn’t worn it since. There’s a video of the gala in his files that I watch, providing me glimpses of his shoes and watch. I strip out of his jeans, and into the outfit. I couldn’t find his watch – it’s probably in Washington on him but I slip on his pinky ring and a different watch from his jewelry box. Back in the studio, I start a new file – Prager Gala, pretending that I’m Will being interviewed about the night’s events. I sit on the stool, hit record and adlib the event starting with Will’s signature “What’s up Guys” intro, including flashing his two fingers. Being Will is all very natural for me. I’m up half the night learning the equipment, checking out his videos and closet. I just need a few weeks of studying him before I replace him.

To access his cell phone, a friend puts me in contact with a local guy who clones Will’s iPhone. It costs $2000 but I now see his text messages, calendar and listen to his voicemails. I can also listen in on his calls while he’s talking to people. I can’t speak to them, and they can’t hear me but it’s perfect timing. With him in Washington, his entire life is going through his cell phone, providing me with up to the minute information. He’s working on his schedule for the next few months. With access to all this, I’m learning who his coworkers are, listening to work conference calls, what they’re working on and what Will’s job entails as Prager’s ‘social media influencer’.

Will has a spare set of keys for our parent’s place so I visit just to see what changes have been made while I’ve been gone. The most obvious change is the lack of pictures of me. Their mantel has no pics of Will and I together. It almost looks like they have only one son – that I never existed. Everything else is pretty much how it was three years ago. As I was leaving, Mrs. Tarantolo, their neighbor sees “Will” and comes running over to say hello. She thought it was sweet I was keeping an eye on their place while they were away “Such a good son.” She claims to be my biggest fan and hasn’t missed any of my videos. She’s clueless about me, as she should – when even our parents couldn’t tell the difference, I’m not worried about anyone.

My week consists of listening, watching and reading everything he’s up to. I take his Porsche out to grab lunch or dinner to remote places so I’m not seen by anyone that could know him. A few times, fans mistake me for Will and I sign autographs using “What’s Up Guys”. They’re thrilled and its harmless fun for me.

The week flies by and I return to my apartment across the road. I return the spare condo key to the manager after making a duplicate of it. On schedule, Will returns via LAX shuttle service. My surveillance system works perfectly as he moves around his condo. I see him taking a shower, changing into sweats and working in his studio. His buddy Mike arrives later with pizza and they brainstorm in the studio about their next VLOG and ‘man in the street’ topics. Listening to their banter helps me learn the lingo and their personal relationship.

Will has not changed a bit since I left Los Angeles – same old anal retentive asshole. It’s fun watching and learning about him. He’s still an avid runner, and like clockwork, he does five miles around a nearby park most mornings. Prager U is just a few miles away and he’s there daily unless he’s traveling. He has a new girlfriend he casually hooks up with but it’s not serious, so that’ll be easy. He writes about meeting her in his diary. He’s got his work schedule planned for the next few months and I know enough to handle it. After a few weeks, my gut is telling me I’m ready to be Will Witt.

Will’s next major trip is to London for a scheduled Turning Point USA promotion/MOTS and speech at Oxford University – same as he did at Stanford. My plan is to replace him when he arrives home. This gives me another 10 days to get up to speed with his life. I watch him pack, see LAX shuttle service pick him up and confirm his plane took off as scheduled. I make myself at home but keep a low profile, rarely going out.

Between his phone and computer, I’m kept busy 24 hours/day just keeping up with his life. He’s definitely a video freak, not only recording content for Prager but also everything else like his hotel room, what he had for breakfast, his shopping excursions. I can’t wait to wear his new $7000 bespoke suit he purchased during his shopping expedition on Saville Row. I listen in on his phone calls with our parents, his friends and girlfriend Lisa. This helps me get up to speed with what’s going on in his life. Mom & Dad meet Will for lunch at his hotel, then go to see Hamilton. There’s plenty of selfies and videos to make his life mine. He’s spending a fortune on food, wine, clothes, cigars and trinkets.

A few hours before he returns, I’m armed with chloroform, truth serum and various knock out drugs. I hide in his bedroom, ready to pounce with a heavily soaked rag of chloroform. It’s almost enough to knock me out just holding it.

HONEY I’M HOME

The door lock jiggles and Will enters, plopping his luggage inside the door. He makes a beeline to kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He’s there quite a while before I hear him dragging his very large suitcases up the stairs. I’m crotched in the corner, behind the door as he struggles to get both bags through. The perfect moment happens when one of the bags get stuck in the door jam and I hear him say ‘fuck’. In a split second, I pounce and have the chloroform soaked rag over his nose and mouth. A split second after that, he almost falls to the floor as I catch him. I drag him out into the hallway, and finish putting his bags in the bedroom.

“Welcome home Will, have a good trip?” I look down at him passed out and ask.

“Awesome trip man, had fun with the TP USA team, saw Hamilton with the parents, and hit up lots of pubs and cigars. I’ll have to show you all the pics I took.” I respond to myself in Will’s typical enthusiastic lingo.

I drag Will to the empty bedroom and start stripping him. Of course, he’s in a sport coat and tie to travel. It’s so ‘Will’ I think as I carefully remove everything from him, amazed at how alike we still are. I strip off my old sweat pants and t-shirt and put them on him. I pull him up into a metal chair I anchored to the floor, then handcuff his hands and feet so he can’t move an inch. I kneel down next to him, grab his face, then rotate it side to side to check his appearance close up. My sideburns are about a quarter inch too long so I head to my bathroom and trim them to match exactly.

I carry ‘my’ clothes back to my new bedroom and slowly start my transformation into Will. I love pulling on the outfit he’s been wearing all day—his sweat and scents mixing with mine. Everything is still warm as I put on his black briefs and socks. His charcoal dress pants fit perfectly as I pull them up. His shirt has gunmetal gray cufflinks and is monogrammed on the sleeve with our initials ‘WCW’. I pulled the black lace up shoes off his feet without untying them. I wiggle into them, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt. In the bathroom mirror I put on his tie using the same technique dad taught both of us. I pull on his cool black sport coat with large dark gray plaid patterns. There’s a video of him wearing this outfit for red carpet Oscar interviews. I check his breast pockets, locating his iPhone, keys and wallet. Tucked inside an outside pocket are his glasses. Slipping on his ring, leather wrist band and watch completes my transformation into Will Witt. I adjust my hair using his Cremo hair cream—Will is always fussing with his hair. Staring in the mirror, I only see Will Witt, just as he was traveling first class earlier. I grin at myself as I adjust my shirt cuffs and admire my looks. I do his usual MOTS intro flawlessly – “What’s Up Guys”. From this moment on, I’m Will Witt and no one will have a clue I’m not.

My iPhone buzzes in my suit pocket, it’s Will’s girlfriend, Lisa calling.

“Hey Lisa, I just got in the door babe.” I answer watching myself in the mirror, smiling and playing Will flawlessly.

“I thought you would be, I’ve missed you so much Will.” She whispers seductively.

“Same, may I take you out for dinner?” I ask as charmingly as Will does, remembering their conversation from a day ago, and Will promising dinner and a surprise.

“I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, Let’s dress up and go someplace nice. I’ll wear a suit and tie.” This gives me the afternoon to get settled into my new life.

“Okay Will, can’t wait.”

“Bye Babe.” Will’s cutesy name he uses for all his girlfriends.

‘It’s show time’ I think to myself. I head back to my brother who’s finally starting to stir from the chloroform. I start slapping his face and he becomes more aware.

“Wake up Willy, Willy wake up.” I say playfully.

He looks confused, slowly recognizing me, his eyes bug out, then starts to struggle. “But you’re dead?”

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Don’t struggle bro, you’ll only hurt yourself.” I laugh at him.

“What’s going on Willy? Why are you in my clothes?”

“From now on, please call me Will and they’re now my clothes. I just got back from London and I’m really jet lagged.” I stand proudly, straighten my tie then reach into my breast pocket for my new wallet.

“Asshole, what do you think you’re doing?” he yells and gets pissed as he’s now fully awake.

“Well, remember when you planted drugs in my locker, turned me into the school principle and ruined my life?”

“Yeah, that was a good one! They all bought it too. Got rid of you for good.” He laughs.

“Well, laugh all you want. I’m borrowing your life.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Whatever you are planning, won’t work.” He predicts.

“Well I’m taking Lisa out to dinner tonight to celebrate my return. In other words, I need pussy but Will doesn’t talk like that. Let me rephrase it – I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner and hopefully make love to her. Better?” I leaf through my wallet checking it out, pulling out the debit card. “Bro, is your PIN still 8991? I may need some cash for my date. You only have a $40 in here.”

By the look on his face, I know he never changed is PIN. “Thanks bro, just needed to confirm that.”

“She’ll know you’re not me, don’t even try it.”

“Bro, you’re talking to the guy who fooled all your girlfriends in high school. You’ve been dating her for what? About 6 weeks after meeting her at Jen’s last party where you got wasted and don’t remember getting home.”

“You’ve been reading my private diary?”

“Well, you could say it’s my diary. So, I was just reviewing my life for the past few years.” I laugh at him. “Which brings me to a new issue – where should I take her for dinner, and do afterwards?”

“Fuck yourself.” He yells.

“Bro, I’m hoping to fuck her, not myself. You don’t want me to do something brash, ‘unWill like’ and ruin your relationship do you? I bet she doesn’t even know you have a twin brother, am I right?” I laugh at him.

“Willy, what are you doing? Just untie me and I’ll forget this ever happened. I promise.” Trying to soften me up.

“Let’s get this straight, for the time being, I’m Will Witt, you’re nothing, don’t call me that again.” I yell at him. “Now, you’re going to help me be you or I’m going to really fuck up your life. You know I can do it. If you lie to me, there will be repercussions. Do not test me.”

“Okay.” He responds defeated.

“Okay, what?” I demand.

“Okay Will. Lisa loves Italian and there’s this little family owned restaurant called ‘Papa Joe’s’ near her house. She loves it and so do I. That’s where I was planning on taking her tonight. I always get the ‘Lombardo’ dish with an ice tea of course.” He answers defeated.

“That’s good information bro, I really appreciate that.” I watch his face and have always been able to tell when he was lying. “What after that? What are her limits? I need everything to be you with her. Give me the full history.”

He proceeds to tell me everything I need to know about Lisa – at least I hope so.

“Now I need details about my job. I know where you work, and what you do but more details about the people, office layout, where your office is and how I get in?” He gives me looks that could kill. “What’s up guys?” I mock him with his catch phrase.

“My work ID badge gives me complete access anytime. It’s in the front pocket of my backpack. I have an office on the second floor, just left as you get out of the elevator. My name is on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“What do you do when you first get there, in the morning? Routine? Pals? Coffee? conference room? Where do you go for lunch? I need it all Willy. You don’t want me to mess up your perfect little life, do you?” I subtly threaten him.

Once I pump him for everything, I grab the bag from the corner, pull out a needle and inject him. He screams at me for about two minutes then become docile. I walk him to the bathroom and order him to relieve himself. Once secured back in his chair, I give him dose of Midazolam that will keep him out for 12 hours and put a ball gag in his mouth. I shut and lock the bedroom door, head back to my master bedroom finishing my unpacking.

I slip easily into Will’s routine. My shirts and suits will go to my cleaner per the receipts in the Porsche, the rest go into the washer. Carefully tucked inside his luggage is his new Saville Row Huntsman, a few new dress shirts and the Big Ben charm I bought Lisa in London. I can’t help but try on the new suit, admiring the fit and material. I head downstairs and see Will’s work backpack he has with him all the time. I take it down to the studio office and start going through the content…. A few cameras, my passport, iPad and MacBook Pro. There’s a printout of my next Prager assignments and hand notes he made in the margins. I find his work ID, clip it to my suit, repack his backpack and head to the office.

A DAY IN THE LIFE

I’ve followed Will to Prager U but have never stepped foot inside. I pull into an empty parking lot, and park in his assigned spot. Will says no one is ever there but he sometimes goes in to get a jump on Monday. My ID badge opens the main door. I easily find his office and make myself at home. On the wall I notice the signed photograph of Reagan that dad treasures and wonder how Will has it. I plop my backpack on the chair next to my desk and start exploring. I open my MacBook and it starts syncing with the LAN. I easily log in and upload my videos as Will does after all his events, according to his logs.

I explore the entire building and everything is as he described – Boss’ office, video production, media center, studio, executive conference room etc. I confidently walk around taking in the names of my coworkers. In the men’s room, I smile at Will in the mirror and clean out my coffee mug.

Back in the office, I settle into my desk and go thru my drawers, check my work email and respond to some. I hear someone coming up the stairs, calling my new name, approaching my office. I recognize it immediately as Will’s producer and friend – Mike.

“In here.” I yell out to him.

He pops his head around the corner. “Welcome back, how was your flight?”

“Uneventful, good to be home but jet lag.” I casually answer.

“My flight yesterday was delayed an hour from Chicago but not too bad.”

I heard their last conversation before Will took off this am, and continued it. “I’m good with the final edits from MOTS, just uploaded it so Alexander can add the graphics.”

I pull up the video, knowing Will made a few cuts on the flight over, and show it to him.

“You’ve been busy man, looks great. You want to grab lunch?”

“Sure, you drive and pick.” I can’t resist the thought of testing my ‘Will skills’.

Mike takes me to ‘In & Out’ for burgers. He doesn’t suspect a thing, readily accepting me as his friend and coworker. We talk about the trip, work and future trips. I feel as if I was actually there. He drops me off and I head back to my office and continue to familiarize myself with everything for a few more hours.

My big test will be ‘my’ girlfriend Lisa. I stay in Will’s slick outfit, donning his favorite Ray-Bans for the drive. She’s waiting for me outside and jumps into my car. Her unexpected full tongue kiss surprises me but I quickly adjust and give her full tongue back. We make out for a minute then I take her to Papa Joe’s. Will was telling the truth, Lisa lights up as I pull in front and valet the Porsche. I use my brother’s pics, diary, blogs and text messages to talk about my London trip. When desert comes, I spring the Big Ben charm on her. She leans in tenderly, kisses me deeply and invites me to spend the night.

At her place, we strip and jump right into bed. In minutes, she’s moaning as I work her pussy, slowly penetrating it with the tip of my head. She starts moaning softly ‘oh Will, oohhh Will’ making me harder, pushing deeper into her as she climaxes. I explode in her, then collapse onto my back as she curls up under my arm and we fall to sleep. She wakes me up with a blow job and homemade pancakes – Will’s favorite she notes. I’m not a big pancake fan but eat them eagerly as Will would. I’ve replaced Will completely and now have his sexy girlfriend.

DAY TWO

I check on Willy when I get home and he’s starting to stir. My schedule today calls for video editing at Prager U with Gavi and Mike. I take a quick shower put on an outfit that screams ‘preppy conservative’ – which isn’t difficult as that’s all Will has in his closet, making my job easy.

I pop my head in to the bedroom and see that he’s wide awake.

“Morning sunshine.” I cheerfully say.

“Let me the fuck out of these straps now!” he mumbles as I remove the ballgag.

“Sure thing, but first a little shot so you can take a dump and eat a little something. Hungry?”

“No, don’t drug me, it’s a fucking weird feeling.” He pleas.

“Sorry man, I can’t chance you getting free and having a fake Will running around.”

“You’re the fake Will, ass wipe.” He screams.

“Hmmm Lisa and Mike didn’t think so. I ran into Mike in the office yesterday while uploading my latest VLOG and MOTS video, then had lunch with him. He’s a good friend of mine. Oh, and Lisa… Damn did I hit her sweet spot last night as she moaned my name softly in my ears. She really loved the Big Ben charm I got her and the ‘Big Will’ I gave her. I think I’m in love bro.” I grab my crotch so he knows what I’m talking about.

“You fucking bastard!! Fucking asshole!! You’ll be caught. You can’t slip into my life that easily.” He screams.

“Now, now, Willy. Guess you didn’t notice the video and audio bugs I installed throughout my new condo or the keystroke tracker on your computers. I’ve been catching up with you since Stanford. Your condo manager was gracious enough to give me a key after you lost it.” I run and grab my iPad and play some of the videos for him, then I show him the cloned phone and play his last conversation with Mike.

“Guess I don’t need this cloned phone any longer. I have to admit, you’re quite the busy person. Your phone never stops ringing and beeping but don’t worry, I’m keeping up.”

“Fuck you Willy! When I get free, you’re going to jail or worst.”

“If you get free, which I doubt. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bolted to the floor. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have new carpet installed at some point. Nice thing bro – between my bank account and yours, I’m quite wealthy with a lot of future potential. In fact, after this gig, I’m thinking of running for office. Dad would love it and back me financially.”

He mutters. “Fucker.”

“Hey bro, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your life. Enjoying it immensely, especially Lisa. She really knows how to wake me up but I’m not big on the pancakes.”

He thrashes back and forth in the chair screaming more obscenities at me.

“Bro, seriously, how do I look? Do you approve my work outfit? I’ve noticed this sport coat is one of your favorites. Oh, and my new suit from London fits great and feels incredible. I just had to try it on.” I taunt him while adjusting my shirt sleeves and checking my watch.

“What are you doing here?” he quietly demands.

“Well the drug career pays quite well but is extremely dangerous. After seeing you at Stanford, I decided a career change was necessary. Don’t you agree it’s a good career move?”

“You’ll never fool them for long. There are things only I could know. You’ll tripped up. What about mom and dad?”

“Are you serious?” I laugh out loud. “Mom and dad could never tell us apart, you know that. I did visit the house while you were in London and from the pictures displayed, it looks like I, Will, am an only child. They’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh, they’ll know you’re not me.”

“Why would they? Just look at me bro. I was always a better you than you, when I wanted to be. I do have to get fully up to speed with my new life, friends and girlfriend but that’s what all my new drugs are for. I kind of like your style so I’ll only wear what you already have in your closet. I’m enjoying your preppy style. I think I’m rocking the Will look, you have to admit it.” I tug on my sleeves not interested in his rants.

“What about work?” He counters.

“Oh bro, that’ll be easy too. I’ve watched all your videos – the work and personal, edited and unedited. I taught myself iMovie to edit my MOTSs for uploading. I’ve seen you brainstorm with Mike on MOTS topics and question. It’s amazing how we even think alike politically. I’m ahead of schedule for today. Like the anal person you are, I was in the office all afternoon while you were sleeping. I cleaned out my scummy coffee mug, organized my desk and left a note for Alexander on the graphics I’d like to see before the end of today. I can’t wait to meet the boss, have been a fan of his for years.”

“You can’t be me!” He slumps his shoulder in deeper defeat.

“I am you, no one will have a clue I’m not.”

I inject him with truth serum and a powerful muscle relaxer. By the time I come back with breakfast, he’s docile and defeated. A few protein bars, quick trip to bathroom and he’s safely secured again. The truth serum is remarkable. I have a totally different discussion with him.

“Hey bro, how do I look? You like?” I spin around to model my outfit.

“I’ve worn that exact outfit before I think.”

“Thank you, now see, it wasn’t too hard to be nice, now was it?”

He spills his guts to me about all his coworkers, and what he thinks of them. While he’s drugged, I hit him up on family issues and his feelings towards me. He basically threatens to kill me and will since I’m already dead. It’s been on his mind since he woke up chained to the chair. I snicker to myself, knowing he’s the one who’s days are numbered. It’s almost time for work today, so I knock him out for another 12 hours.

My first day of work is a breeze. I visit Alexander and review the graphics I want. Mike and I review the schedule and brainstorm future MOTSs and VLOGs. Will has the easy part and probably makes the most money. Prager’s staff writes his MOTS questions and helps him with upcoming speeches. He provides the topic, they handle it from there. Will was good enough to do my outline for his University of Texas speech next week. I turn them in and talk to Marissa, our content producer. I have the best gig – I just need to be the hip preppy conservative face of Prager U and get to travel all around the world.

When I’m leaving Marrisa’s office, I run into Dennis Prager, the president of Prager University. He puts his arm around me and leads me back to his office.

“Will, good to see you, how was London? I just saw your rough video and it’s great”

“Thank you, Mr. Prager. London was great.” I respond and his face immediately looks puzzled.

“Since when am I Mr. Prager?”

“Dennis, sorry it just came out. I’m still out of sorts with jet lag and the British are so formal.” I try to recover.

“I understand boy, plus you probably had too much wine and cigars I’m sure.”

“I sure did. I brought a few Charatan Robustos back with me” I chuckle knowing their conversations about them and using them to solidify my identity.

“And you’re not sharing? Will, Will, Will, how could you?”

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow.”

“Let’s grab lunch son.”

I can’t believe I’m having lunch with Dennis Prager. He’s thrilled with ‘my’ work, wants me to do more TV appearances like Fox & Friends but also liberal networks. My ratings are through the roof. I talk about my London trip, showing him pics of my parents and selfies I took. We talk politics, going back and forth on issues. We get back to the office and I easily fit in and learn the ropes. By the end of the day, I’m very pleased with my new life. I pass on happy hour claiming I’m still of out sorts due to jet lag.

CHECKING IN

Back home I check Willy. He’s awake but groggy.

“What’s up guy? How was your day?” I ask cockily as I strut in.

“How do you think, you sick fuck.”

“So sorry to hear that. My day was awesome. My latest VLOG and MOTS are killing it. I had lunch with my friend Dennis and he wants me to do more TV spots. It was probably the best day of your life, I mean my life.”

“My life! You fucker, my life.” He screams with pure rage.

“Wow bro, you smell. We’ll have to get you a shower but first I need to change. Be right back.”

I run to my closet and throw on a pair of running shorts and a Prager t-shirt. I keep my cell phone on me as it’s been going off all day. When I get back to Willy, he starts yelling at me.

“What are you up to? Did you get me fired? The truth, you owe me that at least.”

I laugh. “Now why would I mess up my career bro?”

“It’s my life and career. You’re going to pay for this you fucking asshole.” He continues to rant.

“I’ve had enough of you already.” I grab the ball gag, shove it in his mouth and he starts thrashing again. My phone rings, it’s Mike calling.

“Hey Mike, What’s up?” Willy’s eye light up watching me.

“No, I’m fine, it was just jetlag and you know me…I tried all the beers and cigars in the pubs…Yeah buddy…thanks for your concern.” I hang up and look at Willy. “Hey that Jetlag excuse will be good for another few days till I get the groove completely.”

He starts mumbling again but the phone rings again with Lisa calling.

“Hey babe, how was your day?” I sincerely ask. Willy starts squirming and getting louder.

“Hey babe, hang on, I’ve got my producer calling.” I put her on hold, walk over to Willy and gut punch him with all my force. I impale him and he shuts up.

“Sorry babe, did I thank you for last night?...Oh yeah, I’d love to but I’ve got a lot to catch up with…My parents are coming back Wednesday from their European vacation and we’re suppose to do dinner Thursday? Would love for you to meet them….Okay… love ya.”

“Bro, see how easy this gig is for me? I still need you for some additional information like the combination to the safe in your office.” He stares at me but is keeping quiet. I grab my little box of drugs and mellow Willy out. A quick shower, shit and change of clothes and he’s back in his chair. I feed him a sub and water that he quickly inhales.

“Now Willy, what’s the number to my safe?”

“Go fuck yourself.” he mumbles.

“Willy, you know I could give you some truth serum or beat it out of you.”

“17858” he spits out as in disgust.

I head down to his safe and open it up. Inside is a gun, his birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of other seemingly important papers. I grab it all and take head up to review with Willy.

“Nice Glock Willy, let’s review what’s in my safe and why it’s there. Some quality bonding time. Most of this I know but the rest?” I ask nicely.

“My contract with Prager U, noncompete, mom & dad’s will, my will, some stocks dad gave me.”

I leaf through it, reading it all and ignoring Willy. In between docs, I feed him some granola bars from the kitchen. I play with the unloaded gun in front of him, on purpose. I’ll have a use for it soon.

“Ok brother, more work questions. There’s ‘PR shots’ on calendar for tomorrow afternoon. What’s with that?”

“Joel, our CMO set them up. It’s just ‘glamour’ pics for his new marketing campaign.”

“Oh, so that’s what my new suit is for I’m guessing. The email to Joel saying you’re all set after you bought it?”

“Yeah, please don’t fuck things up for me Willy. I’ve worked hard this past year.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Will.” I gut punch him again.

“I’m sorry Will.” He cries in pain.

“That’s better Willy. So, tell me what to expect.”

“Easy, take suit to work, some of my shirts, ties and jewelry. Collette in our makeup will take care of the rest. Just smile and do what they tell you in front of the camera.” he answers, still in pain.

“Shoes?”

“The black derbies I had on yesterday, I bought for shoot specifically, wanted them broken in. Doesn’t matter though – they only shoot from waist up.”

“Now that’s more like it. Don’t fight me, help me so I don’t fuck up your life.” as if he’s ever getting it back, I think to myself.

“Yes Will.”

HANGING WITH FRIENDS

“Now, my friend Tommy wants to go out tonight, grab dinner. What would ‘Will’ do?”

“He wants to do 71Above – it’s the highest restaurant west of the Mississippi. Tricia, his friend is host there and can get us in. Very high end, suit and tie required.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” I correct him. “What were you going to wear?”

“There’s a black Tom Ford suit with a red lapel pin on it, I’ve only worn it once for a few hours. White shirt and any tie.”

“Oh yes, my outfit from the Prager gala where I played ‘blue moon’ on the piano. What tie, what shirt?” I demand.

He looks at me shocked. “There’s a new gold paisley tie, white spread collar shirt with cufflinks.”

“Why thank you brother. I better go and get ready.” I shove another granola bar in his mouth.

I easily assemble the outfit he was going to wear. After all my spying, I’m sure I would have selected something as tasteful. I skip the gold paisley and decide on a ‘men in black’ look, almost exactly as he had on at the gala. A quick shower, 20 minutes with my hair and another 20 to dress and I’m still 36 minutes early for Tommy.

“How do I look Willy? Now be honest.” I ask walking into the bedroom.

He checks me out head to toe. “You look good Will. You’re wearing my good watch?”

“My good watch brother, remember? You wore your smaller ring at the gala but I stuck with what I had on coming back from London. I think I looks great. Went with the gold black onyx cufflinks. And dude I even had my name embossed inside the suit, sweet!” I open up my jacket.

“You’ve been watching my videos.” He realizes.

“Of course, and reading your diary, all the way back to when dad drove me to ‘New Starts’ and abandoned me. I’m good Willy, been watching you for a month.”

Just then my phone rings in breast pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Tommy.

“Now keep quiet Willy or you know what’ll happen.” I warn him as I answer. “What’s up Tommy? On your way…yeah early is good, I’m ready… Okay, that sounds good, see you soon.”

“Please don’t drug me bro, I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Sorry Willy, can’t take any chances. Besides, Tommy mentioned about having a drink when he gets here. Sounds like it’s routine for you guys. What does he drink?”

“Rum and Coke, lots in the fridge just for him.”

I grab the knock out needle and give him a dose. He doesn’t fight me at all.

“Why thank you bro. I’ll see you later tonight maybe, if you’re awake.” I laugh as I leave and lock the door.

Tommy walks in without knocking, making his way to my bar as I make my way down the stairs. He sees me and lifts the glasses.

“The usual?”

“Sure, sounds good to me.” he’s right at home, grabbing the rum and coke.

“Cheers!” he hands me one, we clink glasses and swig.

I follow Tommy’s lead the entire evening but I know enough about Will to discuss his trip, girlfriend and work. Tommy talks about his auditions for a few movies and a commercial. Sadly for him, I’m a bigger celebrity than he is, as a few people ask for my autograph while waiting to be seated. Tricia has seats for us right next to the window with the best view of LA. It a fun night as a few of Tricia’s friends join us. It’s easy playing Will and his friends. I have everything put on my tab. Thank god he has an early audition for a new Marvel movie, so we leave and I’m home by midnight.

MORE WORK

I’m up early but Willy is out cold still. He looks like death, probably from all the injections and being upright on the chair for days. Not that I really care as it gives me more ‘Will Time’. To keep in character, I put on some of his work out gear, grab my iPod and do my usual run around the park. I work up quite the sweat but it probably helps with all the alcohol Tommy and I consumed. I check on Willy and he’s now awake and not happy. A quick injection allows me to get him relieved and toss him in the shower. He’s not putting up any resistance so I give him breakfast, leave him in the tub but making sure to securely handcuff him to a grip bar. I take my morning shower in the same shower so I can keep an eye on him.

Willy is so beaten that he’s stopped resisting completely and is cooperative even. Believing that by helping me, I’ll get what I want from him and leave him to his old life. What he’s doing is sealing his fate faster. Once I no longer need him, we’ll head up to my parent’s cabin in the mountains and he’ll be fertilizer.

After I towel off, I sit on the toilet seat next to Willy.

“How you feeling Willy?” I ask trying to sound concerned.

“Please Will, can I stay here in the tub all day? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think I can do that but you have to be knocked out. But sure thing. Tommy is a fun guy bro. He sure loves his rum & cokes. We had a blast. I think he was hurt that women were coming up to me for my autograph but not him.”

“Yeah, that’s happened before when we’re out.” He looks really down.

“What is it bro? you look sad.”

“What do you think? I’m chained up and I can’t believe people are falling for your act.” he gets a little feisty.

“Come on bro, how could they not think I was anybody but Will Witt? Don’t worry, no one suspects a thing, so we’re good but I need your help with today’s schedule – sorta of ‘what would Will do’ session just to make sure I don’t fuck anything up for you. Okay?”

“Sure Will, it’s what I live for.” he responds sarcastically.

“How do you come up with the topics for your MOTSs?”

“Who do you think? Dad, you know how opinionated he is. When we had dinner in London, he rattled off six topics for me to cover and things he’d ask these snowflakes.”

“Ah I thought you sounded a lot like dad when interviewing people. That explains the notes on your iPad. By the way, I’m having dinner with the rents Friday night, having them meet Lisa.” I just smile at him. “Now about today’s pics, what should I wear? ‘What would Will wear’?”

“We’ve been through this – my new bespoke suit.”

“Exactly what you’d wear today – into the office and for the shoot. I’m just trying to help you Willy.”

“Dennis is always pushing for me in more suits and ties, to be taken more seriously outside the campus forum. Keep it simple – black button down shirt, my charcoal brooks brothers suit. For the shoot, the bespoke of course and take all my new dress shirts and ties, many pairs of cufflinks. I love my gold paisley tie, the one you wore last night. Hopefully you didn’t ruin it.”

“No, I went with a black tie, so the paisley is fine.”

“There’s a large suit bag in the back of my closet that can hold everything you’ll need.’

“I have to tell you bro, I’m gaining a real appreciation for your closet. My tastes have really matured in the past months. What’s with the glasses though?”

“They’re for eye strain bro, giving my eyes a break now from the contact lenses. I also wear them for important interviews or meetings where I want to look more mature and smarter.”

“Well your glasses and contacts work great for me too. My eyes have been changing but I never had them checked. Now, what about the shoot? Who’s going to be there? How does it work? What does Will do?” I press him.

“It’s a larger version of my down stair studio. Someone will come get me when it’s my turn, take me to changing room, then make up, then to the set – green screen. It’s easy really. There’ll be people in and out all day long.”

“People like who?”

“Candace, Charlie Kirk, Dave Rubin, Guy Benson and many others. It’ll be a few days of craziness.”

“Nice! Do I have any nicknames or personal things with any of them? Like, how do you address Candace? or Charlie?” He stutters and hesitates. “Spill it or more drugs. Besides, you don’t want me to fuck up anything with your friends now do you?”

“Candace is ‘Candy’ jokingly, she’s getting married in a few weeks.” He continues with the others. I’ll use the information but it sounds childish – something a more mature, evolving Will would never use. I’ll phase that nonsense out.

“Good to know. Thanks. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I grin at him.

Dennis Prager alluded to my evolving image during lunch and that I should be wearing more conservative outfits. I agree completely with the boss and love the image. With that in mind, I ignore Willy’s suggestion and go ultra conservative. I remember a beautiful light blue shirt with white contrasting collar and cuffs that ‘I’ve’ worn a few times. It would be ultra conservative with my gray Brooks.

In Will fashion, I lay out my work outfit on the bed, adding all the details. When I’m satisfied, I pull it on my underwear and socks, pull on my pants. After I add the belt, I pull on the Brooks shirt. To keep with the Brooks theme, as Will likes to do, I select the Brooks tie that he wore previously. The whole image screams ultra conservative and looks great. I add white gold cufflinks, his smaller ring and gold watch. I pull on the jacket and stare at myself in the mirror. I put some gel in my hair then fix it exactly as in the pic I found in an old MOTS video. Oh, almost forgot my tie clip. He’s famous on Instagram for his tie clips? I clip one on and it completes my image. I flash a Will smile and fingers. “What’s Up Guys?”.

I must have nailed the look because when I entered the toilet, Willy’s mouth dropped. In the bathroom mirror, I admire myself, tug on my cuffs and adjust my tie. I don’t say a word.

“Well aren’t you Will Witt.” He comments snidely but I ignore him for a few more minutes as I run my hand thru my hair.

“Who else would I be?” I turn around to face him. “What’s Up Guys, Will Witt for Prager U.” flash my peace sign to him, pretending I’m holding a microphone.

“Probably a better choice for today. No pocket square Will?”

“Oh shit, totally didn’t notice.”

“In drawer under jewelry box.” He answers me without even asking. I run to his closet, find a nice silk white one neatly folded in a square. I tuck it in my suit pocket and check myself out in the mirror quickly.

“Better?” He’s silent.

I pull out his preppy glasses and put on and off. “Glasses, no glasses?” I look at him.

“I don’t care, up to you.”

“Know what, think I’ll have pics taken both ways. I think they make me look older, which would kill my ‘frat boy’ image on college campuses but might help me with the older generation.” I turn to look at his expression but he looks broken. “I love this suit bro, it fits me great. I made sure the knot was right by noting the length of the tie, and location of stripes. Not used to wearing one, almost forgot the tie clip – my fans would have blown up over such a faux pas.”

“True, they watch everything I post.”

“Ok bro, I need to get to work, busy day ahead. I’ll probably be late tonight because Mike wants to do Furley’s for happy hour. I’ll let you in the bathtub so you’re comfortable but how about something to help you sleep?”

“No don’t do that please, I’ll be good.” He begs.

I ignore him, grab the needle and knock him out for the day.

I jump in my 911 and head in for another day in the life of Will Witt. The suit bag weighs about 30lbs and takes up the entire seat of my 911. Everyone accepts me and I keep learning more and more. The lingo is coming naturally to me. The routine of emails, small talk and understanding my role is easy.

I hang my suit bag and jacket on the back of my office door, grab my coffee mug and ease into the day. Just before lunch, Nicki, one of the film staff comes for me – it’s my turn. I’m seated in in one of the dressing rooms, in a makeup chair, in front of the mirror. Collette comes in all smiles.

“Will, you’re looking great.”

“You too, so let’s get started. I’ve got a lot to do today on top of these pics.”

“There’s something we’d like to do different this time.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, how about we cut your hair some?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Collette, it’s my signature, my “conservative with the best hair”.” Sounding uncertain for effect.

“Well, I was talking to Dennis and Joel, and we feel you should be the focus, not your hair. We’re not talking about shaving your head, just toning down the cowlick some. If you don’t like, it’ll be back in a few months.”

I think about it for a minute, running my hand through my cowlick, looking at Will in the mirror. I’ve seen videos where the wind destroys his giant flop, part of his gig but in the end, I nod in approval and let Prager U redo my image.

The ‘Will’ PR shoot was so simple, but time consuming. They brought in some famous stylist from West Hollywood to cut my hair – it took an hour! They went through my suit bag and laid out a number of outfits but didn’t question my taste. They took multiple pics of me in 5 different outfits including what I wore in this morning. I was there for hours. At the end of the day, we head to Furley’s as planned for happy hour. I left on my new suit and last outfit I was photographed in. What a happy hour – hanging with Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro and other famous conservatives was incredible. Thanks to Will’s unedited interview videos, I knew exactly what small talk he had with a number of these conservative celebrities and played them perfectly.

When I get home, my first stop is to taunt Willy still tied up in bathtub.

“Hey bro, this suit is simply amazing. You were right, the shoot was really easy, except for having to change every 20 minutes. Like my haircut?” I tease

“What did you do to my hair?”

“Willy, remember, it’s my hair. It’s a shorter, more mature, conservative cut. Everyone loves it. I still have the best hair of any conservative. I texted it to mom and she loves it too.” I open up the iPhone and scroll thru pics from the shoot, then laugh and leave to change into sweats. Following the same routine, I inject Willy, help him to bathroom, feed him and put him to bed. In just a few days, he’s totally changed from being in control to being dependent. He’s definitely a shadow of himself but I’m now casting his shadow.

Every day as Will gets easier as I seamlessly take over his life. I’m sure I’ve slipped up a few times but since no one knows Will has a twin, who would suspect me? Wednesday at work was incredible. I helped with the rest of the PR shoot, chatted with all of my new conservative friends. I especially liked talking to Dave Rubin and Candace Owens. I had dinner with everyone that evening and it went really late. By the time I got home, Willy had wetted himself. I was so pissed that I shoved a hot pocket in his mouth, hosed him off and drugged him heavily.

On Thursday Gavi and I do a man on the street, at Santa Monica Pier. I nailed it – quickly picking up Will’s attitude and methods. It was easy after watching all his videos from the past year. Back in the office I sit down with Gavi, edit his video and work with Alexander to add the graphics.

Willy is awake when I get home. His eyes scan me from top to bottom then he starts yelling through the ball gag.

“Hang on Willy.” I pop out the ball gag.

“I hate you Willy and I’m done playing your game.” He spits and hits me on my shorts.

I gut punch him with all my force, then inject him to keep him docile. “Now Willy, we’ll get you on the potty and fed quickly. I don’t have a lot of time, Lisa and I are going to dinner at mom and dad’s. I really like her.”

I get Willy settled, take a quick shower and head out to pick up Lisa. Dinner is a breeze as Lisa is the center of attention. There’s no discussion of Willy at all – just about me and how proud they are of everything I’m doing. As I expected, they were totally clueless I wasn’t their precious little Will. I have to admit, it felt great being home. I showed Lisa my old bedroom and got a BJ on Will’s bed. It was like old times, like his other girlfriends I fooled. Mom and dad announced they’re heading to Hawaii to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and ask me to watch the house while they’re gone. More time to get reacquainted with my new life as their loving son Will. I spend the night at Lisa’s but get up early to take care of things at home, then work.

Willy is awake and pissed more when I check in on him.

“Morning Willy.” I cheerfully announce.

“You’re Willy asswipe.” He yells back.

I gut punch him with all my force. “Don’t make me repeat myself Willy, now who am I?”

“You’re Will, Will Witt.” He’s barely able to speak, I hit him so hard.

“Now that’s much better Willy. Let’s get you to the bathroom and fed.” I inject him and continue talking while it takes effect.

“So, mom and dad love Lisa bro. I think she’s really falling for me. She gave me a BJ in my old bedroom. Sadly, your old bedroom is now a workout room with no trace of you at all. I showed Lisa my swimming and track trophies, tried on my old letterman jacket and gave her the whole Will Witt history. Can you believe mom and dad are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary? I can’t!” I lay it on thick as the caring son that Will is.

“Fuck off.” The mumbles.

“Oh Willy, don’t make me hurt you more.” I warn him. I can see the drugs have kicked in, and start untying him. Just as I loosen the last night, Willy tries a fast one on me, trying to tackle me to the floor. I’ve wrestled him too many times and know his ‘plays’ and another gut punch and I’m dragging him into the bathroom. A quick shower, shit and breakfast bar and he’s good for another 12 hours.

Once he’s secured, I jump in shower and prep for another day in the office. Fridays are so routine with a team strategy meeting for upcoming projects/videos/content. This is followed by lunch and office time till happy hour at Furley’s. After happy hour, I meet Lisa and a bunch of her friends out for more drinks and dancing, then back to her place.

END OF THE ROAD

I’m up early and skip out of Lisa’s, telling her I have some chores to do for my parents and I’ll be tied up all weekend. Willy is awake and thrashing about trying to get loose. I enter the bedroom smiling, and clap my hands.

“Willy, good news! Road trip bro! We’re going to the cabin to take care of some things for Dad. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He stares at me, blood shot eyes, a week of facial hair, looking like crap. “Good, could I sleep in one of the bunk beds?”

“Sure thing bro, then we’ll talk about next steps here.” He calms down, feeling better, probably thinking he’s getting his life back. He’s not.

I drug him, give him a shower, get him dressed and fed. The next morning, I get him ready for 4 hour trip to the cabin. The dosage I gave him should keep him out for most of the trip. I pack some clothes and fishing gear in case I get the urge. We leave at 5am to avoid any traffic.

He sleeps the entire journey and I don’t stop once. I’m careful to drive the speed limit to not attract any attention from state police. I pull up to the cabin before 9am. There’s no one around, no one on the lake even – all peaceful and quiet. With Willy securely tied up in the car, I walk around the cabin inspecting the place, reminiscing about our family outings and fishing trips. In the rear about 500 feet from the house is an old well that’s been dry for years. Dad has been talking about filling it in for safety for years, but never did. It’s the perfect place to hide a body.

When I get back to the car, Willy is stirring. I help him out of the car and walk him inside the cabin.

“Will, untie me please. My arms and wrists are killing me.” He pleas.

“Sure thing.” Knowing he’s drugged still and couldn’t run anywhere or harm me.

We walk out to the back porch and I hand him a coke and sandwich. He sits on the step eating and enjoying the partial view of the lake. I laced the coke with enough fentanyl to kill him – he’ll just pass out and die peacefully.

“So what’s the plan Will? I guessing this is it for me. Am I right.” As he takes a large chug of the coke.

“Yeah that’s about it Willy. You won’t feel a thing though, you’ll just fall asleep. Hope you enjoyed the coke, no after taste?”

“Nah, it tasted fine. You know I need a few cokes a day to keep the energy up.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had to adopt. You know Willy, I’ve always been a better you and this life is perfect for me. Don’t worry, I love my new life and have seamlessly integrated into it. I’ll take good care of it.”

He’s in a daze now, the drug is kicking in. I help him up and over to an Adirondack chair near the fire pit. He puts his head back and starts breathe erratically. Within minutes he stops breathing. I waste no time stripping and dumping him in the well. I grab a shovel and start shoveling dirt into the well until I can’t see any evidence. For good measure I add another foot of dirt on top of that.

I’m exhausted after that, take a shower and dress in clean clothes. In town I grab a bite at Palmer’s diner – a dive with good food. As I’m sitting there finishing up with a piece of Apple pie, Rob Decker, an old friend of me and Will come up to me. He’s a local who owns a few small businesses, most inherited from his father.

“Will! How are you man? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard.

“Rob, good to see you! Dad asked me to check on the cabin and I needed a break from LA. I’m heading back to tomorrow.”

“Dude, got your gear?”

“Of course, was going to try the old creek before heading home.”

“I’ll join you, heck, even Tommy will go. He’ll be thrilled to see you. He was talking about your videos on Facebook.”

“Sound great Rob, stop by tomorrow morning whenever.”

Back at the cabin, I start a campfire and relax. Once it’s burning good, I grab Willy’s clothes and toss it all in. I have an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and freedom now. I have a few beers and watch the fire slowly burn out. Sunday morning Rob and Tommy show up at 6am. They don’t even mention my brother Willy even though we were all friends growing up. We have a blast and they want to come to the big city and party with me soon.

I fly back late Sunday afternoon and clean up my condo – unmounting the chair, smoothing over the holes in my carpet, cleaning the bathroom and tossing out the rest of Willy’s clothes. I call Lisa and invite her to my place tomorrow night for dinner and love making.

Monday morning I’m in full Will Witt mode. I wake up and take my run, shower and fuss with my hair for 20 minutes. In keeping with Dennis’ wishes, I up my conservative appearance to match my new haircut. My new bespoke Saville Row suit anchors my identity as the only Will Witt. It’s teamed with my favorite blue Brooks Brothers shirt with white contrasting cuffs and collars. I pair it with my new shoes and favorite tie I’ve worn a few times. Joel loves my new attitude and appearance. At lunch, I pull a typical Will move – I escape to a nearby restaurant, hang out and work on my schedule as is habit.

Life is great now. I have tons of friends and fans. Prager U is very lucrative and I’m in demand across the US and world for speaking appearances. No one suspects I’m not Will. I love the notoriety and acceptance. I even love my preppy wardrobe and new style. It’s grown on me and I’ll maintain it.

#twin #imposter #transformation #revenge #straight sex #stolen identity #evil twin #twin swap

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prettywarriors · 3 years

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Ok ill bite whats the worst mg series

alright, whats the worst magical girl series in your opinion?

Thanks you two for letting me do some yelling. The obvious guess would likely be one of the recent edgelord shows right? Magical Girl Site or something similar? But nay I say, for while MGS and Day Break Illusion and such and what not generally tell you what to expect right away. Don't like super violence and suffering? Watch something else is the clear message from the get go. One of the bait and switch series then like Madoka or maybe Yuki Yuna? For what faults they may or may not have, at least these series do something and are interesting, even if you're not huge on what goes down in the series. A parody then? They range from affectionate to banned in New Zealand but regardless of quality and their feelings for MGs, it's a parody. It's a joke and shouldn't be taken seriously (plus they're usually short so you can just forget about them forever).

So what makes a series terrible then, I am sure you are asking. IMO? Setting expectations for an interesting and enjoyable series, and then dashing them to hell.

Come with me below the cut, as I talk about Key Princess Story: Kagihime Eternal Alice Rondo!

Spoilers abound so if you care about those for a 15 year old series, click away.

Background: Kagihime was a 4 volume manga that ran from 2004-2006 that was picked up for a 13 episode anime adaptation near the end of its run. The manga is created by a pair (Kaishaku) who you may know for making Magical Nyan Nyan Taruto. Kannazuki no Miko, and Steel Angel Kurumi, and the anime had a script written by the same writer (Mamiko Ikeda) for Tenshi Ni Narumon who also did some script writing for Princess Tutu and Seven of Seven. The anime also had 6 character music videos which are fairly simple but a nice addition to the series for the main girls. Discotek has been publishing the anime in the states in recent years, and the manga was brought over by *squints at book spine* Dr Master Publications.

The Premise: Girls transform and enter weird outside of reality spaces to fight each other with giant keys to take each other’s stories to create a third Alice In Wonderland story.

Well, an off-brand Alice story written by Alternate L. Takion, rather than Lewis Carroll/Charles Dodgson, that while the series uses all the aesthetic hallmarks of the tradition Alice, the little we see of the in universe Alice story is clearly different. Which is fine, at the end of the day, it’s still about someone who loves the Alice stories and wishes there was more, and even makes his own fanfiction version. His? Oh yeah, while the girls do all the fighting, the main character is Aruto, a teen boy who loves Alice, and for reasons we don’t know till late game, can enter the liminal spaces that the ‘Alice Users’ fight in. He chases a girl who looks like the Alice he sees in his story, who is named Arisu, and gets roped into this fanfic battle royale. He is also the older brother of the very needy Kirihara, who also ends up being and Alice User. As does Kirihara’s bff Kisa. To round out the group of enemies-turned-friends-who-will-work-together-to-collect-the-Eternal-Alice-without-having-to-fight-eachother group is a young genius researcher Kirika who wants to know more about Aruto’s connection that allows him to enter the spaces where the girls fight.

Then there’s all the other girls, some of whom still have real importance to the story and some who have a few panels or 2 scenes total. But with a whole bunch of girls to design, the creators reached out to a whole lot of other people to have them create designs! Eventually the battle gets down to the last few girls, there’s a confrontation with the guy running the whole thing, and while the anime and manga vary quite a bit the whole time, in both version Aruto ends up with Kirihara. Oh and Arisu was created by Aruto’s super imagination powers.

The Promise: Here on is subjective, particularly with what I personally saw as potential from this series. because I need you to understand how much I want to like this series.

~Alice in Wonderland themed: I know some people aren’t alice fans and that’s fine you do you but as a big alice fan this is great. We have a few alice episodes and themed characters amongst series like CCS and MGRP, and even Alice themes in other series like Tweeny Witches and Alice 19th. But damn it I am down for Alice series.

~Giant Keyyyyyyyys: Yeah yeah Kingdom Hearts but these keys are much more staff like for a lot of the characters which ads and air of elegance rather than the KH ones that for me at least feel well designed for big ol props rather than actual weapons. We also get...

~Weapon variety: It counts as a key if it’s a thorn whip that can be shaped like a key right? How about a giant pocket knife? Crossbows can also be keys. Hush. And we have this variety because

~Guest Artists: For magical girl series where we have a variety of outfits designed by different people, we have Kagihime, Uta~Kata, and uhh I guess Magia Record? But that’s a mobile game with a hella number of characters and with how mobile game works I wouldn’t count it just because it’s less the intent of the series to have variety and more the nature of having lots of girls. (Precure doesn’t count because unless I missed a memo each season’s set is still by one designer). If a series isn’t about a team and therefore doesn’t need cohesion, bringing in other artists is a great way for variety and new looks.

~The long term goal: Fighting with other people who love the same piece of media you do in hopes of creating new material that will be viewed as official? That’s just fandom nowadays. But it’s a legitimate interesting concept, and opens up so many doors for a message for the series, be it ‘what you create is no less valuable than the canon work’ or ‘it’s hard to let go when something you love doesn’t have more to it but you can still love it for what it is’ or ‘bond with the people who like the thing you like ya idiot instead of fighting about it’. The concept is interesting and there are so many narrative ways you can take this.

~Gays: Between the anime and manga, we have at least 5 wlw. Is it a magical girl series without some gays? (side note- the manga had a short thing where the MC wears a girl’s uniform and is pretty comfortable in it and while there is no way this was the intent, between that and the emphasis on the stories that live in girls and how the fight zones have no men, I’m just saying, Trans girl Aruto.)

~Greater Fairy Tale Premise: We meet a Little Match Girl based MG who is obsessed with Andersen rather than the Alice books, and touch on a Sleeping Beauty character in the manga. The manga at least implies that classic stories and fairy tale authors uh. Live on in a liminal space as immortals with world warping powers within that world and there could be opportunities for other girls in the real world to fight for Little Mermaid 2: Electric Boogaloo.

The Good: Everything has positive points, no matter how bad it is.

~Character Designs: Some of those looks slap. As do most of their weapons.

~Backgrounds: I have a strong opinion on backgrounds in anime that can be easily boiled down to old watercolor backgrounds good, modern filtered photos as background bad, and as a 2006 series, this might not be Memole nice but they’re quite attractive.

~Splash Pages: Easily my favorite thing after the designs, each chapter’s title page for the manga just has a character standing in a setting. Which is not everyone’s thing I’m sure but it’s a nice simplistic way to let the characters breathe imo. Even if at least some of the settings were deffo traced. But that’s how backgrounds work to some extent? If I ever get to the Met again, I am tracking down this exact photo, but here is a likely candidate for an example.

~Different Versions: I do not understand the need to make an adaptation that tries to be a 1:1. Kagihime had the same ideas and characters and did some of the same beats but very much had a different finale story and a lot of changes in the middle (like the Alice cops in the manga). Again, not something everyone probably wants I’m sure, but I very appreciate this, especially since the Anime kept good pace with the number of Manga chapters (reading the manga again while watching the anime at 3.8x speed just now was very interesting to see the different interpretations of events in a different medium.)

The ‘Fine’: Yeah.

~Anime Visuals: Look 2006 was still early enough into digipaint that I will give it a total pass on these. The colors are too bright but in a very bland way, the lineart is nothing interesting, and the faces are. Iffy. But it’s not total garbage to look at (probably helped by backgrounds and character designs...) it just came out in an era where not enough people knew how to stylize things to account for the weakness of the tools of the time. (It was 4 years earlier but I feel Kagihime is the polar opposite of Chobits with its painfully bland color palette while still being just. Flat. Sorry for the drive by Chii.)

~Music?: There sure were songs. Obviously, they are nothing to me.

The Bad: CW for.... somehow all the big things to an extent.

~Fanservice: Look, I am fine with fanservice, especially for a series that’s, ya know, not targeted at kids, big Mai Hime fan here even if I would recommend skipping the panty thief episode. And honestly the series generally isn’t fanservicey, at least by the modern standards of having the camera choosing under the skirt rather than an over the shoulder shot like I’ve seen plenty in other shows. Even the sexier outfits like the rose whip dominatrix aren’t bad BUT. When the girls fight. One takes her phallic key and drives it into another girls chest between the boobs while the loser cries in pain and then her book comes out and when the victor rips out pages, the loser’s clothes also rip. It is very SuperS Amazon Trio assault metaphor-y. There’s also a bit of fanservice with the sister becauseeeee....

~Incest: If you read the premise up there, first wow good job because I’m sure not re-reading that, you might have noticed I said MC ends up with his sister. As someone who is a big mythology fan and watches plenty of anime, I have a decent tolerance for your obligatory ‘oh we’re siblings but actually cousins so our feelings are okay’ or whatever the fuck Citrus has going on I don’t know that series and I don’t vibe BUT. I have limits and boy did this series go beyond that because multiple episodes are dedicated to the sister being in love with the brother? And the brother returns her feelings but knows that they are wrong so he put everything he likes in his sister into his version of Alice who, of course, physically manifests as Arisu who he creates accidentally with his uh. Magic imagination powers. But again in both versions MC still ends up with his sister. Hey, at least the manga eventually said the boy was adopted when the sister was like, 3, so if nothing else no blood relations? The anime did not ad this. -_-

~Under Utilized Characters: Arisu’s gradual revelation that she has no childhood memories because she isn’t a real person is so interesting and they don’t do nothing with it but also? That’s the kind of thing I personally would love to dig into and Kagihime, while touching on this world shattering revelation, easily loops back to So Anyway She Should Fight For The Man and to hell with developing a life or personality outside of what has been written for her. The rest of the main 5 were 2 note characters which. Could be worse? The most interesting character ends up being the child genius who accidentally murdered her childhood bestie (and/or lover? depending on version) and her coming to terms with that (the friend is alive but the version changes how and why she thinks she’s dead). Then the villain has the motivation of ‘i lost my creativity and now have become an immortal living outside of normal space and am getting girls to fight each other because that’s like a story so I’m still relevant right?’. But shoutout to the anime for then taking death of the author literally. The numerous other girls are canon fodder outside of like. The manga version of the dead gf and the little match girl.

~Battle Royale: This is not a thing I have an issue with generally. Again, but Mai Hime fan, I need to read MGRP 11, BUT by not developing the non-main girls there is no emotional connection which makes them just canon fodder and that’s boring as sin for a royale system. The initial main character fights revolve so much around the MC guy being there that they fall flat, and the 2 or 3 final battles in both versions still feel without any stakes. Also for a royale thing most of the characters don’t actually die, which cool! Neat! Except when they do? Some nobodies and a somebody are murdered (at least in the manga) and the tone never feels like it’s supposed to be upping the stakes, it’s just. Some people are dead now. And do you want to guess which of the main characters died?

~Gays: Oh boy the best friend of the brother-complex sister is in love with her and (in the manga) dies. She does apparently get better for the last chapter but the death itself is only felt by the rest of the cast for a page or two before we go back to feeling sad big brother wants to kiss his mentally generated sister clone rather than his actual sister u_u. Bury your gays is nothing new, but I wonder if it was also intended to be justified because Guess Who Is Creepy and a bit Perverted? Oh look the lesbian keeps the used swimsuit of her beloved and manipulates events to get an indirect kiss and when she sees the sister trying to strange Arisu for a moment she decides to do it for the sister? It’s not good. You want bad gay rep in a magical girl series, well here ya go. We also had a nobody in the first(second?) episode whose story pages reveal her having a kiss with a girl, and then we also have the prodigy again and- in the manga- her. Uh. childhood lover who she thought she killed but the girl has been wiping her mind over and over so prodigy remembers ‘killing’ the friend and not the she’s alive so she can keep? fucking with her? Toxic!

~Sexual Content: But wait you say, you already covered fanservice! Ah but that is sexual content for titilation. This is sexual content for dramatic backstory! The red riding hood character was sexually assaulted, another character was manipulated into sex first as a teen and then more often to ‘get into the publishing industry’, and the same writer forces some aggressive kisses on the MC. None of it is gratuitous which is nice, but also, was it necessary? Not making a new point for this but read riding hood’s dog was also murdered so unnecessary animal death gets tossed on in there.

~Male Lead: You can have a male, non magical character as the main character surrounded by magical girls. This is not how to do it. If I can make a vicious and hopefully not understood reference, Aruto is basically Tate from the Mai Hime Manga. If you understood that, I am so sorry. If you didn’t, congrats! Don’t read the manga. Or do and send me asks about the iconic final page of the first volume (18+). Anyway, this dude is boring, everything revolves around him, BUT I’ll be generous and say at least this isn’t a harem series? It looks like it out of context but it’s just a triangle with a fun attached scientist and token lesbian.

~Premise: They didn’t make good use of it. The initial goals of ‘take other girls pages from their soul books because if we get enough we unlock a third alice book’ is good! And then we add the twist that that was never going to happen and either if we get all the pages we can grant a wish, or these fights are just happening for the amusement of and asshole. Either way, yeah okay I guess. But at no point do we ever achieve this forbidden wish granting book and the asshole just. Lives. Nothing happens to him. His peers don’t even dunk on him. The only real changes from the beginning and the end of the series are: the siblings are now chill with dating, and the scientist lady won’t turn into a child in magical spaces. Oh. Yeah.

~Why did we make this adult a child sometimes?: I think we know why. Stop trying to get those types of folks to watch your already meh series. I also could have sworn at points in the past looking up images for this series I’ve seen extra art for Yuuri the Thumbelina-y Alice User that seemed like it would fit alongside anything by POP. You know, the Moetan guy. If you don’t know, god I wish that were me.

Wrap Up: I have definitely forgotten some points and am well within my rights to ad to this whenever I remember more points but uh. Yeah.

Listen you want an alice themed battle royale with nice outfits? Rozen maiden is right there. Battle Royale magical girl series that’s good with fanservice? Mai Hime. Series with different outfits while being based on a classic story? Pretear.

Hope anyone who read all of this at least got what I was saying, even if they don’t agree with it. And thanks for reading because whoops.

#why do ya'll let me write so damn many words #thanks ya'll for letting me write so many words #kagihime eternal alice rondo #long post #text #not fashion #whoops 3k words

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thecrownnet · 4 years

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October 3, 2020

Series four of The Crown takes on Princess Diana: exclusive pictures and interviews Charles has found a wife, Andy’s got a racy new girlfriend and Thatcher’s coming for tea... Megan Agnew gets an exclusive tour behind the scenes of the most wild and lavish series yet

Lasers. That’s what helped Emma Corrin understand Princess Diana in the latest series of The Crown. When the cameras were rolling, she imagined that lasers were pointing at her, as if she were in a spy film or a bank heist drama. It was her way of imagining hundreds of people staring right at her. Lasers helped her with the iconic Diana head tilt. She pretended she was shying away from them.

Corrin could also draw on her own trajectory as a 24-year-old actress. Before landing her part in The Crown, she was an unknown. Suddenly “there’s a huge amount of pressure”, she says.

When I visit the set at Winchester Cathedral, which is pretending to be St Paul’s, the paparazzi arrive to catch Corrin pretending to be Diana. She’s dressed in a replica of the outfit they papped at the actual royal wedding rehearsal almost 40 years ago. Every time she moves between buildings and trailers, Corrin has to be shielded with umbrellas. Life imitates art imitates life.

youtube

Almost every person Corrin has spoken to since getting the role has their own “Diana moment” — they might once have waved at her car in the street, been a pupil at a school she visited or knew someone who sat next to her at a dinner. Diana was one of the first celebrities to whom people laid claim. “Everyone has this ownership,” says Corrin. She was, and still is, the People’s Princess. But Corrin is trying not to think too much about it. Public expectation has been “overwhelming since the beginning”, she says. She wants to do Diana “proud”. “I know that’s strange and cheesy, but I feel like I know her.”

Emma Corrin as Princess Diana/ NETFLIX

The first television series of The Crown, which aired in 2016, was at the time the most expensive in history. Each series since has been estimated to have cost upwards of £50 million. The first two covered the first decade of Elizabeth II’s rule to wide acclaim, but series three — in which Her Majesty Claire Foy was succeeded by Olivia Colman — had mixed reviews. “The jewel in Netflix’s tiara has lost its shine,” said one. It was “okay”, said another.

Now, with series four’s reported £100 million budget eclipsing the Queen’s own sovereign grant last year of £82.2 million, The Crown is barrelling straight into the Eighties era of celebrity glamour and modern party politics grit. Peter Morgan, the show’s creator, is taking on two of the most controversial public figures of the past 50 years: Princess Diana and Margaret Thatcher. “The word ‘iconic’ is overused, but in the case of these two women quite justified,” Morgan says. Both have passionate fans and detractors. “Writing them was a bit of a high-wire act, but it was exhilarating.”

We meet Diana as a teenager, scampering around her huge family home in Northamptonshire. She is young and apologetic. The Prince of Wales, at that time dating her eldest sister, is rather distracted. A number of years later, Diana is leaving her relatively modest flat in Earls Court and her job as a nursery school assistant to move into Clarence House — but finds herself in solitude. Bored and lonely, 19-year-old Diana rollerskates down corridors to Duran Duran and sits all by herself in her chamber. One night, after finding out about Prince Charles’s affair with Camilla Parker Bowles, she gorges on puddings and makes herself vomit them back up.

Behind the scenes: the latest series of The Crown/ NETFLIX

*Spoilers*

It is a dark moment that Corrin wanted to get right. She listened to real-life accounts of people who had suffered from bulimia and talked with experts from the eating disorder charity Beat. Diana herself said that it was the most “discreet” way of harming herself: “Everyone in the family knew about the bulimia,” she said in recordings from the 1990s later made into a Channel 4 documentary.

“Drawing on my experience,” says Corrin, “not that I’ve experienced that kind of self-harm, but mental health in general, it can lead you down a very dark path when you’re struggling to cope, when things feel out of control. Diana very much doesn’t have the love and comfort and attention she needs from the man she loves or the family, who aren’t really acting as a family to her. There is a build-up of emotion she can’t deal with and making herself sick is a way of taking back control.”

When Josh O’Connor, who plays the Prince of Wales, first read the script for this series he thought: “Oh God, how can Charles be like that to Diana? But he feels wronged. He feels like she has an addiction to the spotlight,” he says. “I have to feel sympathy for him in that world. This is a family who have an intense inability to be emotional and he has inherited that awkwardness. In this series there’s an awful lot of Charles trying to explain himself and not being allowed to. He’s trying to say that if he can be with Camilla, then at least two of the three people can be happy. As it is, there’s three miserable people.”

The Crown works differently to other shows in that the “writers’ room” is not made up of writers but researchers, who constantly feed back to Morgan, the king of The Crown. It means that for each word eventually spoken on film, there are pages and pages of briefing notes. Annie Sulzberger, head of research, started this series by hiring a young team. “I wanted people who did not grow up believing one or the other [Diana and Thatcher],” she says. “You have to be curious enough and ignorant enough, I suppose, to write the kind of work we need.”

This series will span the Thatcher years — 1979 to 1990 — and will include the assassination of Charles’s great-uncle, Lord Mountbatten, by the IRA, Charles and Diana’s wedding, and the Falklands War. Once the team has laid out a timeline, Morgan picks out the events he wants to feature. The research team starts to hone in on each, getting increasingly “micro” in their investigations. In the making of this series, one of the team spent two weeks researching the label on a bottle of wine from which a character briefly swigs.

Dress rehearsal: Josh O’Connor and Emma Corrin act out Charles and Diana’s wedding run-through/ NETFLIX

As the show has progressed, the fact-checking work has multiplied, thanks to the tabloid journalism of the 1980s. “It’s not just about words being printed,” Sulzberger says, “but who wrote it. Diana will become very close with a journalist called Richard Kay and feed him information, and Charles’s team will do the same. So you need to start unpicking the biographies of all the writers in order to know that what you’re doing has some objectivity.”

Did the team speak to any of Diana’s family or friends? “No.” Do the producers give any material to the Palace to see beforehand? “No. We have no connection to them that would result in editorial shifts. These are real people, these are real stories and we are filling in the moments that aren’t recorded — private conversations, moments of reflection, philosophical moments.”

When I ask Morgan if it’s true that he meets high-ranking courtiers four times a year, he is keen to clear up that he doesn’t. “I have never had any discussions with anyone actively working at the Palace,” he says. “The two worlds, the royal household and The Crown, exist in a world of mutual deniability, which I’m sure is every bit as important to them as it is to us.”

Corrin, though, did speak to Patrick Jephson, Diana’s private secretary, who appears as a fictionalised character in this series. “I got a sense of her joy from him,” Corrin says. “He said she was so naturally happy. When she joined the royal family, she had come from living with flatmates in Earls Court and she was a very normal girl. Patrick said she was still full of that girlish silliness, very down to earth.”

The couple themselves at the real thing in 1981 MIKE LLOYD/SHUTTERSTOCK/REX

The executive producer Suzanne Mackie says that “particularly now” The Crown team feels a sense of responsibility “to living people, people’s children, people’s parents. Obviously what we don’t do is engage on a fact level with the royal family. We have a tacit understanding that they need distance from us and we need distance from them.”

It is a cold day in January and I am watching Charles and Diana’s wedding rehearsal in Winchester. About 75 per cent of the show is filmed on location around the world, over the course of seven months. The rest is filmed at the show’s base, Elstree Studios, just north of London.

Today in Winchester Cathedral there is a crew of 78 and a cast of almost 200. The sight is as epic as the show’s budget would suggest. Between takes, Corrin sits on the stone steps by the altar, scrolling on her iPhone with one hand and biting her fingernails on the other. Even before the clapperboard snaps shut, the resemblance between her and the princess is uncanny.

Sidonie Roberts, head buyer and assistant costume designer, has a timeline of photos of Diana covering the wall of her studio at Elstree. Roberts is devoted to the cause. She travels to Paris to buy buttons from the same shop the Queen’s dressmaker uses (it sells more than 30,000 types of button) and to Soho to rummage in basements for fabric. Last year she was in a Bangladeshi fabric shop in Brick Lane, east London, when she saw a roll of material right on the very top shelf. “It was still in its plastic, but I just knew — that’s Diana’s colour,” Roberts says. She got a ladder, climbed to the top, pulled down the fabric and bought it for £3.50 a metre. When Roberts got back to the studio at Elstree, she unrolled it and saw a stamp at the bottom: “The Lady Diana Collection, made in Japan.” Roberts did some research. It was real silk, from a collection made in the princess’s honour.

In the corner of the studio an assistant is gluing tiny pearls to Diana’s flat wedding shoes. She has been decorating them, exactly like the originals, for a day and a half. “We’ve had a long conversation about the size of those pearls,” says Roberts. David and Elizabeth Emanuel, who designed Diana’s original wedding dress, donated patterns to the show, which were used to make the new version. With its 25ft train, it took ten people to get Corrin into the dress. In the show it is seen in full, and only from behind, for no more than 15 seconds.

Paying their respects: Olivia Colman as the Queen and the rest of the royal family at the funeral of Lord Mountbatten/ NETFLIX

Corrin is masterful at inhabiting Diana’s coyness — hunching her shoulders towards her ears as she walks, the smirk, her intonation. Diana’s voice was the “polar opposite” of the royals’, says William Conacher, The Crown’s dialect coach. “She moved her jaw twice as much, so her voice was more forward, open, easier to access, and I don’t think it’s especially revelatory to suggest accessibility was her shtick,” he says. “She used a minor key that made her seem vulnerable. Despite the Queen’s and Prince Charles’s accents being ‘stiffer’ to listen to, I think it comes entirely naturally, whereas I find Diana’s voice more studied. I think she spoke to have an effect.”

What sort of research did Colman do for series four’s Queen? “Yeah, I don’t do research,” she says when we speak on the phone in the summer. “The research team on The Crown is a bit like the British Library. It’s extraordinary, and when they kick in, your computer can’t really cope with the amount of stuff they send you.” Was there something in particular that the team sent her that made things click? “No.” There is a longish silence. It seems Colman’s royal duty is waning. “They’ve got every image and film of the Queen ever made. I’ve also got three kids, so I can’t spend all my time going through all of it.”

As she wraps up a second series of The Crown — Imelda Staunton will take over for five and six — Colman knows that she would “really not like” to have the Queen’s job. “There are very few people who are forced into a job and have no choice about it,” she says. “She’s done it with dignity, for decades, bless her. It’s amazing.”

The funeral of Lord Mountbatten took place in 1979 BENTLEY ARCHIVE/POPPERFOTO/GETTY

If there were rumours of Elizabeth II being unhappy about the last series of The Crown, I can’t imagine she’ll be too chuffed about this one. Series four’s Queen is colder and more distant, and the effects of her duty on her children more obvious: Charles is heavy with melancholy, Anne feels unheard, Edward is portrayed as a spoilt bully and Andrew is dangerously arrogant.

Speaking of Andrew, there is a subtle nod towards recent events. At one point the prince discusses a young American actress he is dating. The actress had recently played a 17-year-old who must entertain several “old predators who seduce the vulnerable, helpless young Emily”. The real prince dated the actress Koo Stark in 1981, who had starred in The Awakening of Emily, which had a near-identical plot.

In series four, the pivotal relationship between the Queen and Margaret Thatcher begins well. They are respectful of one another as no-nonsense working mothers, but tensions arise — not least, over tea etiquette at Balmoral.

In preparation for her role as the Iron Lady, Gillian Anderson met Charles Moore, Thatcher’s biographer, as well as secretaries who worked with her. “The only way for me to go about sitting inside of her was to find the reason behind her actions — growing up, what she learnt from her father, how much she truly believed that she was the answer and as long as we all took the sour medicine now we’d be able to turn around this country, completely shutting her eyes to the people that she was turning out on the street.”

Anderson eventually “settled into” the body of Thatcher. “She walked very fast, always up ahead,” Anderson says. “She would power forward in front of presidents. With [Ronald] Reagan she would supposedly be alongside him, but was walking ahead. Always walking ahead of [husband] Denis, telling him to catch up.”

Thatcher’s barnet also features. In one scene she spends an asphyxiating four seconds hairspraying it in preparation for a showdown with the Queen. The hairdo took endless camera tests before Morgan was happy with it. “It essentially meant destroying it so it had an overprocessed ‘frothy’ quality,” says the hair and make-up designer Cate Hall. “To treat a wig so badly was against all of our instincts — they’re so expensive — but I’m grateful now that we went through the process with Peter, with him saying no, more, it’s not right, try again.”

Clash of the titans: Margaret Thatcher, played by Gillian Anderson, is filmed meeting the Queen, played by Olivia Colman, in a memorable scene from series four/ NETFLIX

Series five will have a whole new cast. Colman says she is “not the sort of person who keeps the shoes of a character they played 20 years ago”. But Helena Bonham Carter is going to miss Princess Margaret. “She does pop out [in everyday life],” she says. “The other day I was at some public event and there was the normal scramble of people and I just told them, ‘No, shut up.’ The finger came out, which is very her, and I said, ‘Shut up and wait. Don’t get hysterical.’ So I’ve got the bossy side of her.”

Originally Morgan said there would be two more series after this one. Then he changed his mind, describing series five as “the perfect time and place to stop”. Now there are two more again (“To do justice to the richness and complexity of the story,” he reneged). The show is creeping closer to the modern day. It is now said to be ending in the 2000s, spanning, perhaps, Charles and Diana’s divorce, the deaths of Diana, Margaret and the Queen Mother, the marriage of Charles and Camilla, and the teenage and twentysomething princes. “I want to end it close enough to present day to feel that we have completed a long journey and distant enough to feel historical,” says Morgan. “I have a specific incident in mind, but until I’ve actually written it and seen if it works, I can’t commit to discussing it.”

On set with Mackie, I mention Harry and Meghan. “Too often,” the couple posted on their Instagram page that month, “we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring.” Is it possible, I ask Mackie, for the royal family to humanise themselves while still justifying their existence as something mightier, more important, regal? “That’s where you go wrong, as a public figure, letting light in on the magic, especially as a monarch,” she replies. “You have to be an ideal. After years and years of that subjugation of self in order to put duty first, you, the essence of you, is buried somewhere. The Queen is a tiny little person inside many, many Russian dolls.”

Series four of The Crown is available on Netflix from November 15

#olivia colman #helena bonham carter #gillian anderson #the crown #the crown spoilers #tobias menzies #josh o'connor #emma corrin #princess diana #ben daniels #erin doherty #emerald fennell #charles dance #marion bailey #the crown netflix

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The marriage pact - London bits

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 14 | Part 15 London bits | Part 16 >

Disclaimer: some strong language

Author’s note: It was so much fun to do some actual research on Jersey’s history - even though it is only mentioned very briefly in this chapter.

Word count: 1.265

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

One can find and do many things on our Jersey island, its rich soil housing some 107.000 inhabitants. But as it appears, the world has more to offer than multi-horned sheep, lovely beaches and close knitted communities. Today I’m once more writing from the metropolitan city of London, my journey taking me to meet some ex-inhabitants of our beloved Jersey.

In this “Old Faces goes London”, I’ll be visiting a baker who decided to bring his infamous Jersey-rolls to the great City of London, a linguist who strives to keep Jèrriais (our territories unique Norman dialect) alive and I’ll be having a cup of tea with an exporter of Jersey’s very own apple cider. Yum!

And, as time is ticking I will now bid you all adieu. Or, to keep it in the Jèrriais realms;

À bétôt!

Ali

‘Morning.’ Henry pressed a kiss on my cheek while he brushed past me, his hands busy with making toast while I prepped some lunch boxes. It was 6 AM on a Tuesday and, though I was far from awake, I did admit that I felt quite happy being here, in Henry’s Mews kitchen.

In the far corner I could hear Kal hogging down some food after an even more ungodly early doggy walk - from which I thankfully had been spared - and before long the kitchen was filled with lovely scents and we were all enjoying our breakfast.

‘Sleep well?’ I said, keeping my voice down as the walls were rather thin. Henry nodded, cup of coffee hovering beneath his nose, cheeks dimpling with a tender smile. ‘Sure did. Though looks like you are STILL sleeping.’ He laughed. ‘Mmm... I’m very much enjoying this dream, thank you very much. So please, allow me.’

‘Then so I will. So what are you up to today?’ He took a hesitant sip of the far too hot drink, scrunching his nose as he nearly burned his tongue, then decided to put it down, his hands instead moving to cut into the toast, his egg all gooey perfection as it oozed out onto the plate. I could see Kal push his head on Henry’s lap, hoping that his puppy eyes were enough of a persuader to earn himself some bacon. But apparently it was just another part of their morning routine, Henry’s hand near automatically running through the Akita’s fur before returning to his breakfast, no bacon bits shared in the process.

Sweet bears.

‘Going to have an interview with that baker in a little over an hour, then visiting that publisher followed by some work calls. You?’

‘No baker interviews unfortunately,’ He smiled. ‘Just meetings. Meetings, meetings, meetings.’ Henry shrugged, obviously not looking forward to it. ‘Oh..What do you want to do for dinner by the way?’ He inquired.

‘Eh…eat food?’ I grinned, earning an exasperated look from him. ‘Hahah..sorry..but eh..let’s just cook something at home. Shall I cook or..?’

‘Cooking as home is good, sure. And, Ali, honestly..I’m not THAT traditional. Maybe let’s just say that the first person who gets home, cooks? That seems to be more fair.’ He said simply, hogging down onto another huge bite.

‘Very well then, my fair feminist knight.’ I winked, also cutting into my toast, my nose sniffing happily as the savoury scents drifted into my nostrils. Gosh, how nice it was to be with a man that could cook!

—

Still somewhat catching my breath from hurrying from meeting to meeting, I sat before one man called Charles Dunham, his golden nameplate shining proudly on his paper-filled mahogany desk. From the moment I had gotten into his office, it became clear that the old, fat cheeked man was most eager to get me on board; a good cup of coffee and some cookies were moved onto the last remaining bit of his space on his overcrowded desk and before I could even take my first sip of the welcome drink, the offer was already on the table.

‘Simply said; we adore your stories. And from a business point of view we see great potential. You have a solid fan base, and we recently released a similar storybook for adults that sold like hot buns on the Sunday market,’ He grinned happily, throwing three cubes of sugar in his coffee and mixing it with a freakishly small spoon. ‘So we are more than glad to develop this project with you.’

I blinked over the rim of the cup of coffee, hot steam raising up from the porcelain. HOLY DAMN! I let out a soft giggle and smiled. ‘My…alright then. I had expected to have to give you my sales pitch and perhaps a kidney or two. I mean, I even made a whole presentation, but this is far better. Thank you so much for your trust and enthusiasm Mr. Dunham, it truly means the world!’

Mr. Dunham chuckled. ‘And the world better be ready. How about we start editing a first version in the next few months, fine-tune a few things? Oh, and I did have one small question; are these based on actual people?’

‘Some are inspired by a mix of people I know, though all characters are definitely fictional in nature.’

‘Well, perhaps you COULD add a slight reference to Superman, since he’s from the Islands as well. Our readers would surely love that.’

I felt my stomach somersault again. Oh Mr. Dunham..if only you knew.

‘Haha..well. We might have to look into copyrights there, but it sure is true that we, I, adore our homeland hero.’ I winked.

—

Oh the homeland hero. I did adore him, indeed. In fact I craved him really.

The moment I had gotten back to Jersey I felt like I had left a piece of myself back with Henry. Suddenly the air was bleak and my parents house was not my home anymore, the large but comfortable house feeling like but a shell of what it had been just days earlier. And it got even weirder when I was laying in bed.

Here I was, alone, my hand outstretched to the spot where he would lay if we would sleep together. I even tried to sniff the pillow he had slept on, to see if any of his scent perhaps lingered there.

It didn’t.

It had been a strangely eventful day today. First the very early flight, a sleepy Henry - quite unique to find in the mornings - driving me to the airport. And then the near desperate hugs and kisses we shared, followed by a restless flight. And then I had to quickly drop off my stuff before heading to another doctors appointment. This time for one of a more invasive nature; a number of physical tests had to be performed so I could enlist for a sperm donor. My plan B. Just in case everything failed with Henry.

But, in all honesty, it felt more and more like a doom scenario I was increasingly less comfortable with. Did I want to become a single parent, if all of this failed? Was that really my dream? Or was a child just a result of something greater I truly wanted, something I had pushed away and hidden from my still beating heart. Did I actually want something quite different?

Did I want..eh..love, actually?

As I lay there looking at the ceiling, small glow-in-the-dark stars speckling the otherwise dark surface, I came to the bitter tasting realisation that I had not really taken into account that there was suddenly this extra person who had come into the equation. This person I had wild make-out sessions with on my parents couch, as well finding in him the person who offers a listening ear and who would consolidate me and be there during a doctors appointment.

He cared and was obviously not really wanting to leave. And I, to be even more honest with myself, well, I didn’t want him to leave either. I needed to keep him close and listen to him if I wanted this to last.

Rolling on my side I picked up my phone. 11.30 PM. He’d probably be sleeping now. I bit my lip and decided to text him, even if he’d only read it in the morning.

“I just tried to sniff the pillow but your scent is gone. I miss you😢”

Quite immediately a message returned. A selfie, taken with a flash in the starkness of a dark bedroom. Henry’s face sulkily grabbing onto a pillow. “That makes two. I miss you three!”

I giggled, silly bear, then imitated his picture, taking one myself, his pillow squeezed tightly in my arm, head resting on top. “Sweet dreams bear. I’ll keep your pillow safe.”

And then a little voice chat message came in, his silky deep voice filling my heart with joy; ‘Sweet dreams Ali.’

Oh sweet were my dreams indeed.

If only..if only he were here to share them with me.

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x OC #henry cavill x author #fluff #romcom #london #busy life #jerriais #london bites #the marriage pact

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camillemontespan · 4 years

Text

can we talk about georgiana, the duchess of devonshire?

So, a few months ago, I asked my followers who would be interested in following a side blog about historical figures. I’m a huge history geek and I thought that if I started a blog about the people who interest me, I could add it to my CV and also just get back into my interests. Quite a few of you were down for it and I was so pleased!

I’m yet to make the side blog but I’m posting this as a test to see if you guys like it. If you do, I will make the side blog.

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @moonlightgem7 @walkerswhiskeygirl @rainbowsinthestorm @saivilo @pug-bitch @katedrakeohd @gardeningourmet @mskaneko

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

Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire (1757-1806)

I love history for its people. I am not interested in battles or treaties; I am drawn to the people behind these events. I like discovering what made them tick, that drove their decisions and what impact their lives have had on future generations. If you ask me to date a certain event, I can’t do it, but I can give you a spoken biography of historical figures that interest me.

When I moved to Devon two years ago, I was nervous but also excited for one reason: I believed I would be able to visit Chatsworth House, the home of the Duchess of Devonshire. Imagine my irritation when I realised that Chatsworth is actually based in Derbyshire, which is hours away from Devon itself. My ideas of weekend jaunts to Chatsworth as I admired the architecure and strolled around the gardens were ruined by this realisation.

You may have heard of Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire. A film of her life starring Keira Knightley was released in 2008 which first brought her to my attention. Now, I’m not a Knightley fan - ‘I’m Keira Knightley, look at my jawww,’- because I find her quite wooden, however I was pleasantly surprised when I watched her performance. She brought a human element to this historical figure who was known for her fashion sense, crippling debt and controversial marriage arrangement.

Georgiana is also the ancestor of Princess Diana. Many people compare their tragic stories and can see a mirror image. Married to man they didn’t really love, later forced to watch their husbands fall in love with another woman and say nothing, all the while maintaining dignity and poise on the world stage.

So, without further ado, let me introduce you to Georgiana.

If Georgiana was your friend, she would be the one who would come over with a bottle of wine, over which you would put the world to rights and drunkenly proclaim, ‘I love you sooooo much!’ to each other, before deciding to have a spontaneous night out where you dance on the bar and pound shots. She would visit you the next day – you would be horrifically hungover, she would be fresh as a daisy.

Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire, was known for her charismatic and bubbly personality; her ability to make any outfit look beautiful (4 foot long peacock feather in her hair springs to mind) which made women everywhere try to emulate her - she literally set trends. She was also known for her passion for politics and her private life.

On the surface, she had it all. But in reality, she didn’t. Underneath this larger than life facade was a tragic figure.

For one thing, Georgiana was addicted to gambling and racked up an eye watering debt. She borrowed money from her friends but never repaid them. Her mother warned her to be careful but to no avail. Her mother also had a gambling problem and wasted money while playing faro. She didn’t want her daughter to continue her mistakes. Georgiana hid her debts from her husband for as long as she could, but eventually she had to tell the Duke, who paid off her debts and never mentioned it again.

She had been expecting to get a bollocking but he stayed silent. To be honest, this made it worse. It’s like being told by your mum that she’s ‘disappointed’ in you, when you’d prefer her to shout at you for a few minutes and then forgive you. She struggled with gambling for years.

Second, and most importantly, her marriage was an unspoken controversy. This is the thing that makes Georgiana an incredible character to study. I read her story and I just couldn’t work it out in my head - why would you put up with this? But then, you have to remember that divorce wasn’t an option for women in those days. Women were property. They were commodities. Leaving a marriage because your husband preferred another woman was not an option.

It was the worst kept secret in society. Everyone knew that her best friend, Elizabeth ‘Bess’ Foster, lived with them and that Bess was her husband’s mistress. Georgiana had asked for Bess to live with them after she discovered that Bess’ sons had been taken away from her and she was living in awful circumstances. Georgiana was too good, too kind – and Bess took advantage. Trust me, Bess is the villain in this story, no matter how often she tried to set her story straight. Diary accounts from Georgiana’s friends show that nobody trusted her. They could see her for what she was -a schemer, a leech. But Georgiana couldn’t.

Bess stayed at Chatsworth and conducted a secret affair with her husband, which soon became public knowledge. Did Georgiana say anything? No. She let it carry on under her roof, without saying a word. In the film, she stands up for herself which is how it should have played out. But according to Amanda Foreman, the historian and writer of the book, this didn’t happen. Georgiana kept silent.

Although I wish I could shake her and tell her she deserves so much better, in a way I feel she shows a huge strength of character to put up with that. She continued her daily routine with dignity and carried on being a queen.

Now, this is when things get interesting and draws in another historical figure who I feel isn’t really known? At least, I didn’t know him, all I knew was that there are tea bags named after him.

The rumour is that she later fell in love with Charles Grey, a Whig politician (later Prime Minister - I KNOW RIGHT? YOU GO GEORGIANA!) who had dreams of a bright, new world where all men had the vote. They were like minded and they could talk about these dreams together. I adore how political Georgiana was and that she spoke publicly about her political associations in a time when women were expected to stay at home and mind their business. She actually brought about the trend of canvassing, where you go out into the streets and campaign for a party. Having Georgiana on side meant the Whigs became popular quickly - if anything, she became their figurehead. Anyway, I digress, but let me just say that she has so much depth. She is genuinely interesting.

Right, Charles Grey.

They had an affair and she became pregnant with his child. In short, she asked the Duke if she could leave him and be with Grey. After all, he was fucking her best friend and not giving a shit about her feelings. But, of course, the Duke refused. Hypocrite, yes. But the time period was different and he couldn’t risk the humiliation of being deserted by his wife – nor could she. Women who left their families were ravaged by society. She gave birth to Grey’s daughter, Eliza, in secret and the baby was raised by his family as Grey’s niece. Again, that is a testament to her character. I’m sure many women would have felt broken after that. But she wasn’t – she visited Eliza frequently (who, when she grew up, named her daughter Georgiana after her mother. I think she knew by then) and she continued to partake in social engagements.

What I love about her, aside from her strength, is how she challenges the stereotype of women of that time. In fact, she was way beyond her time. She was the one who started the trend for getting outside in the streets and campaigning for the Whigs. She was a WOMAN who was out in the streets campaigning, despite not even having a vote or even thinking her gender would one day have one, and she was so much more than just fashion and money. She was an intelligent badass who cared about how the country was run. She didn’t let gender stereotypes and restrictions hold her back. I love how no matter how shit her home life was, she didn’t let that bring her down. If anything, politics was her escape. It was where she could feel valued. She made friends with the Whigs, such as Charles Fox, and they wanted to hear her opinion. They needed her on their side because her opinion mattered. She mattered.

She was ahead of her time. She had a hard home life but she carried on, trying to make a difference and prove her worth. Georgiana is my home girl and I will stand up for her because no one else did.

I know this wasn’t a coherent piece. It was all over the place, right? But that’s what history does to me. I get excited. If I’m talking to you about Georgina, my hands will be all over the place and my voice will be rising in volume because I get so passionate about the subject. I wrote essays at uni for my history degree and they were so proper, just the way university dictates you write. All I wanted to write was ‘read how amazing this person is! Give me an A for enthusiasm!’ I once got a lower mark for an essay because I made the mistake of being too enthusiastic, writing a really in-depth profile on the historical figure, but forgot to answer the question… My tutor said he could tell I really enjoyed writing it but I didn’t actually fulfill the point of the essay. It wasn’t a harsh criticism - he was happy I enjoyed writing it but obviously, couldn’t grade me a high mark.

But that’s how I approach history. I could sit here and try to write something proper but I think that is one reason why history is often a disliked subject. It CAN be boring if taught badly.

I remember my history teacher in high school, Mr Pia, who was the best teacher I’ve ever had. He scared all the young students because he was so serious and never smiled and I tell you, I was scared when I found out he would be teaching me when I was in my final year. But, when I joined his class, he surprised us in a lesson about Austria. He played Mozart and said, ‘I thought I would try to evoke the right atmosphere!’

I fell in love with his teaching then and there.

THAT is what makes history a good subject. You need someone passionate, who looks at it differently. That’s how I would like to approach it. It may not be for some people but it works for me.

If Georgiana has peaked your interest, you can read the biography by Amanda Foreman which is incredible. I couldn’t put it down. Even give the film a go - Ralph Fiennes plays the Duke and Dominic Cooper (babe) is Charles Grey. It’s on Netflix. Spend your Sunday watching it. It’s a great adaptation.

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lampmeeting · 4 years

Note

since i can now do this ldsfk 1-Metalocalypse (obvi) and 2 Chickles back at you :3

oh HELL yeah *rubs hands together* okay this’ll be long so i’ll do a cut

Favorite character: PICKLESSSSS

Least Favorite character: everyone says rockso and like I GET IT he’s revolting, but my ultimate least-fave is toki’s dad. fuck that old man.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): CHICKLES, HAMMERTOOTH, uhhhh (what else is there?? i’m kidding) nathan/abigail, charles/magnus, nathan/toki

Character I find most attractive: oh fuck don’t do this to me. i have too many types!! i can’t pick! fuck. i’m just gonna say charles. even though it’s magnus. wait. no. it’s pickles. charles. toki. fuck. magnus. i can’t do it dfkgjhf

Character I would marry: realistically?? like, i would say charles but unless i’m a member of dethklok i’m gonna be getting like .02% of that man’s time. honestly i would pick toki or nathan. toki would be so sweet and attentive, all the huggings and kissings, awww. nathan i feel would be the same, but only in private. you gotta kinda work on him a lil bit haha.

Character I would be best friends with: my heart says pickles but my soul says murderface. i would FOR SURE laugh at one of his off-hand under-his-breath comments because that’s just what i do, i fucking laugh at everything, and he’d be like OH? someone thinks i’m funny?? and then my life would never know peace (in a good way)

A random thought: i wanna hear all the dethklok albums from before the show started. like that album where their abs were airbrushed, wtf did that sound like?

An unpopular opinion: season 4 was good. :O i feel like i hear the sentiment from quite a few people that season 4 on the whole was bad. i love all the seasons equally actually.

My Canon OTP: CHICKLES. may i present to the court, exhibit A *points to my icon* (shhh no, let me dream)

My Non-canon OTP: toki/magnus :’) i think this is just about as non-canon as you can get, really. but the heart wants what it wants.

Most Badass Character: DEFINITELY charles.

Most Epic Villain: sorry, mags... salacia.

Pairing I am not a fan of: i think i’m willing to at least entertain most any ship. i’ve read some interesting things for sure. i draw the line at seth/pickles though (i’m glad that doesn’t really seem to exist anymore? it was around more back in the day).

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): aside from magnus and abigail, who both needed WAY more screen time?? i would say dr rockso in a sense. he was sort of that kooky rascal you wave your finger at when he gets in trouble, and then they had to go and do the whole dory mclean thing. and i get the point of the episode, but after that i wasn’t rooting for rockso anymore and he kinda became more of this sinister kinda figure? i dunno. i think that whole angle could’ve been done away with and it would’ve been a lot better. also him trying to fucking drown toki in the christmas episode. 8( ouch, man.

Favourite Friendship: probably nathan and pickles, since they’re the lynchpin of the whole outfit.

Character I most identify with: pickles with some toki on the side. :’) ahhh.

Character I wish I could be: i wanna be that girl that nathan was dating for a while, the one the boys end up befriending and playing scrabble with. i want to be their friiiiiiiiiend

OKAY CHICKLES TIIIIIIIME

When I started shipping them: WELL....okay so i actually just went back and looked at my old deviantart account and the first drawing i did of them (yes i’m linking to 14-year-old art pls don’t judge me) was on Oct. 18, 2006, so like...the dethfam episode hadn’t even aired yet. god damn. there was someone in the sausage festival livejournal community who had drawn the two of them, and then i fucking went ravenous for it real quick and it became like the only thing i drew for months hahaha. i had been nickles up until then. :O

My thoughts: MY THOUGHTS??? this is so vague. i have many thoughts. uh, for one? they’re perfect together? the straight-laced workaholic and the lazy degenerate? yes please, gimme. they’re like yin and yang, opposites attracting. and yet i feel like, once they get past that, they realize they’re both so similar at their cores. and pickles helps charles loosen up, and charles gives pickles some structure. they both give each other someone to lean on when shit gets bad. pickles can be a surprisingly good caretaker when he wants to be. :’)

What makes me happy about them: everything?? i really don’t know how to adequately describe just how much i love them and just how much that means hahah... you ever ship something for 14 years?? i know some of y’all have. it gets in your blood. that’s like over a third of my life right there. not to be dramatic or anything hahaha but they’re important to me. that ship helped get me through some rough months back when i lived alone in a crappy apartment, and it’s hilarious to me that i’m getting back into it hardcore like i was back then considering everything that’s going on right now, just current events-wise and personal stuff-wise.

What makes me sad about them: god damn, anything about those 9 months charles spent “dead”. anything post-doomstar. anything snakes ‘n barrels where they’re together for a short time and then never see each other until charles becomes dethklok’s manager. pickles pining after him for like a decade after the band forms. or charles pining, having to watch pickles party and do drunks and sleep around. or BOTH of them pining and not realizing it, or REALIZING IT and not acting on it because what if it hurt the band somehow? maybe charles wouldn’t want to jeopardize it but pickles would be okay with it, and charles would have to be the one to say no. ahhhhhhhHHHHHH

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: oof, i agree with you here, Ash. i’ve read a couple fics where, like, the bdsm aspect wasn’t even fun. i probably know the exact fic that left a bad taste in your mouth because there’s one specific one i’m thinking of that left a bad taste in mine (actually two...). like i had to actually get up from the computer and go do dishes hahah... uck. but yeah. don’t like charles being abusive to pickles. i think pickles does like some punishment from time to time, and he definitely has some daddy issues. but i don’t want it to get fucking sinister haha y’know? pickles, at his heart, is a good-times guy. he likes good feelings. he wants to feel nice. and charles, at HIS heart, is all about service.

Things I look for in fanfic: are they in love or just hooking up?? i mean i’ll take either at the end of the day, but i’m a romantic and i need the love, i crave it.

My wishlist: give to me all the fics about snakes n’ barrels chickles. how i haven’t written one baffles me (though i did have that huge plot write-up from months back haha...i should turn that into a real fic sometime). would also love a huge fic about their marriage, complete with canon-typical buffoonery. fics about them retiring together. ;0; fics about them just having nice peaceful moments. literally just.....any fic haha...

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: my soul literally begins to shatter apart if i consider them ultimately ending up with anyone else hahaha... other relationships can come and go, but at the end of the line i need those boys to be together. <3

My happily ever after for them: after galaktikon II, dethklok has kinda run its course. the band uses their near-infinite resources to help rebuild the earth. shortly after, it’s pickles who proposes in a surprising turn of events. shaken after the battle, he doesn’t wanna waste any more time. they get married barefoot on the beach probably in like fiji or something (pickles’ idea) with friends and family present (the okay ones haha, also magnus is there with toki because this is my dream, damnit). pickles has white flowers in his dreads in lieu of a bouquet. T~T everything goes well, no one crashes the wedding. they have a lovely honeymoon there when everyone else leaves. pickles says he’s decided to retire from music, but it’s not long before he’s working feverishly on new music in the home studio at their new place. some real expansive stuff. he’s kinda doing it as a weird therapy, coming to terms with some stuff. he never gets clean but he’s not using drugs and alcohol as a band-aid for his problems quite so much anymore. charles retires from managing bands (he doesn’t have the heart for it if it’s not dethklok) and ends up doing the adjunct professor thing whenever he gets bored. but he practices guitar a lot, pickles teaching him some advanced stuff, they jam together sometimes. he takes up sailing because it’s something he’s always wanted to do but never had time for. after pickles releases his first solo album, charles takes him on a long, romantic sailing trip. everything is perfect, everything’s gonna be good forever. 8′) forever. the end.

#SORRY THAT HAPPILY EVER AFTER QUESTION REALLY ACTIVATED ME #i went into a trance i think hahah #anyway thank you T~T i love ranting about them #insomniac-pens

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catalina-infanta · 4 years

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Was there really a falling out between AD and DLF? I know we didn't get AD blooper footage. But the ony people I can think of that he could have had a falling out with is JJ DR JB and maybe CT. But what about the rest of DLF? I know Charles Soule seems to be giving us good Ben Solo content. Have I missed something?

I dont think you have missed anything. I honestly not sure there was a falling out, because I have never seen any hard evidence of such, but there might be someone else out there who has more inclination or reason than me to think as much, I just wonder if this is based off their own conjecture and not any real hard evidence. I see a lot of SW Reylos and fans just throwing out these accusations without a solid base for why they feel that way, son on this I will remain cautious until I hear enough to think there was any major issue with AD and the rest. The fact remains he is a pretty solid professional and seems to take his job quite seriously.

I also think it's likely that people are just so dissatisfied with the end product that they think there is something nefarious going on when maybe the fact of the matter is that JJ and Terrio just aren't very good writers, hence accounting for the fact that Kylo’s character was kinda effed up (all the characters were in TROS anyways) and for the fact he had less screen time (JJerrio just didnt know how to make better use of him..they clearly didnt know how to make good use of any of the cast given Finn was just running around shouting “RREEEEYYY!!” all the time).

Honestly, I am not going to look much into the blooper thing. Bloopers are designed to be funny, so maybe there was just nothing funny with Adam that they thought to put in? Ive seen this before with other bloopers, where my fave wasnt in much of them despite being an MC. I mean, we know he can be pretty intense and serious on set. So maybe that's all it is? IDK, maybe there is someone who can tell me otherwise...

I DO know however that the BTS footage has a whole bunch with Adam.

#adam driver #star wars #the rise of skywalker #bloopers

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paperclipninja · 5 years

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Younger post-ep recap 6x06

Due to a rather unfortunate run in between my laptop and a glass of water I lost my original ramble for this week’s Younger (as well as the actual laptop so R.I.P Lappy, you were actually pretty terrible but we had a good run). So instead of my usual review I thought I’d do more of a recap and refresher of the last episode to get us prepped, primed and pumped (aka the 3 P's) for the next installment (ep7).

Episode 6 of Younger was in many ways so bonkers that it shouldn’t have worked, but somehow all the pieces came together and it did .Oh boy did it ever! I outright belly laughed a number of times throughout and I think my dog was mildly concerned for my well-being because there were actual tears coming out my eyes at a couple of points. I’m a sucker for a pun so ‘Merger, She Wrote’ had me at hello (you could say my hopes for the ep were high...yes I did and #notsorry). What I wouldn’t have given to be in the room to see the reactions to a script with ‘Liza goes to talk to the nurse who is actually a plant’ in it. So yes there were LOLs galore but most importantly, by the end of the ep order had been restored following the upheaval of the past 6 episodes (which is about the limit viewers can take sitting in the discomfort of an unfamiliar detour from the norm IMO: think the Bryce Reiger arc in season 3 and the Charles finding out the lie in season 5...it’s almost as though Darren and co. have done this before...), Finally the fam is back together at Millennial (or is it Mercennial now?)

Straight off the bat I was very distracted for most of the opening scene by Liza’s dress and look in general because it was AMAZING. I am loving all the Maggie/Liza in the morning scenes we’re getting this season and Maggie in a blue coverall embarking on a DIY rope harness ceiling painting project...what could possibly go wrong? I felt mildly uncomfortable at how relatable Maggie’s not being served for 10 mins in a bar and sneaking out to the fridge in the night were, but was also mildly mesmerized by Liza’s coffee mug that looked like some kind of old-timey wash basin (turns out this was not relevant to the story but noted nonetheless). Maggie also offers the very straight forward solution of merging the two companies to alleviate the tension that’s putting Liza and Charles in ‘not a good place’ and I love that her ‘bing, bang, boom’ is echoed by Liza when she floats the idea with Charles later in the ep.

The' Microdosing' book pitch provided us with the set up for the retreat and my fave thing about this scene was how IN character all the characters reactions were to it all; Diana is flat out appalled by the whole thing, Liza is Captain Cautious but trying to play it cool and Kelsey looks like she’s seeing colour for the first time and would 100% pledge her devotion to Travis in any kind of cult situation.

What might have seemed out of character, but actually ended up so perfectly capturing the way she always does everything with absolute gusto, was Diana's foray into boomer erotica narration (as Liza so eloquently put it, 'I think we just found our Seasoned Slut'. These lines, I swear *rofl emoji* ) I think I laughed through the entire scene of Diana in the recording studio, I mean, Miriam Shor's delivery of every line just kills me, but the highlight was undoubtedly when she suggested she could hit nipple a little harder and affirmed 'throbbing nipple' to herself as she walked back to the booth. Zane and creepy af Audrey Colbert waiting allowed for Diana to unsubtly hot foot it out of there, which was a great throwback to her refusal to be in the same room as Audrey in ep 3.

It was a also great opportunity to bring Zane and Kelsey back together and who doesn't love an awks 'accidentally had the mic open and didn't realize' moment when you're talking about how your author is definitely a murderer? I feel like Audrey may go and find another publisher now (just a hunch) but I would really like to see more of her because this character is a type of unhinged that we haven't seen on this show and I think that could be a lot of fun to see play out. I have to say that Kelsey Peters is NOT someone I picked as a boop-er of noses, yet there she was at the bar, booping Zane's nose and this was my favourite interaction of theirs in the series. I was totally digging the dynamic this ep and it will be very interesting to see what that will look like with the new work arrangements. Also, where was Zane when that was all going down btw? I assume Charles filled him in on the bringing the companies together plan before it happened?

Liza's excitement when she told Charles the idea of merging the two companies was endearing and I am unabashedly a big fan of Charles, but his attempt at convincing Liza to join him at Mercury after she tells him that she won't leave Millennial and Kelsey, by saying he left his company to be with her, was super shitty. But it was also super necessary. Because at some point this needed to be said and most importantly, Liza needed to call him out on it and let him know that he cannot use it as a bargaining chip. One of the things I love most about the Charles/Liza dynamic (aside from all the things, but that's another essay) is that Liza is her own advocate in this relationship, she will stand her ground when something is important to her and does not compromise herself to appease Charles. He is equally as stubborn but they are able to have the hard conversations that need to be had but this doesn’t lead them to question whether they want to be together (I very much appreciated the kiss on the cheek Liza gave Charles before she left for this very reason).

So of course being on a psychedelics retreat together when they've hit a roadblock in the relationship was definitely a very good idea...Well it was for us as viewers at least, because pretty much from the moment they arrive and Liza and Charles start talking straight to camera as the literal doctor (my god that whole line just cracked me up) informs them they'll be taking not-LSD, we know we're not in Kansas anymore Toto. Enter Josh for *insert drama here* purposes (and I do think he should franchise Inkburg coz why not?) and we have, ladies and gentlefolk, a recipe for some next level hilarity. But not before Josh and Liza share a lingering look as they take their dose of illicit substance to ensure that Lizs's trip includes one down memory lane.

I have made my feelings about love triangles known many times (quick recap: hard dislike. Tricky to pull off without one or more characters looking bad. Very tiring as a viewer and quite frankly I am pretty lazy and tired most of the time irl so just don't want it on my screen), however I will say that I did not see this ep as re-stoking the love triangle, I saw it as simply reminding us that it is there and can be reignited by the writers at any stage. Within the context of everything that was happening, Liza hallucinating Josh at her door actually made sense and I have no doubt that various factions of Younger fans had meltdowns at that moment for very different reasons.. Sutton Foster's physical comedy throughout this whole ep was second to none, starting at her realization that it was, in fact, Charles who had come to her room and continuing the next morning at breakfast.

Speaking of which, there was something about seeing Liza and Charles in the breakfast room together that made my sappy heart swell, it had such a vacay feel and I'm sure if you muted your volume you could pretend they were just listening to the activities for the day before going off to spend some quality time together...I mean, maybe that would be a thing, I wouldn't know....where was I? Oh yes, the unfolding of a series of comedy golden McNuggets™ that I am still laughing about. We learn that Liza is a supertaster (for those like me who pretended they understood what that meant but then realized they did not, I googled it and it means that she is sensitive to the drugs and basically the microdose affects her like a full dose, you're welcome) and I am chuckling even now when I think about Josh's, 'hey guys' in Charles' voice as he joins the table.

This is another one of those concepts that I feel like could've not worked at all but sweet lawd, the Charles and Josh voice swap scene was next level and I could watch this and the scene that follows over and over and never not laugh. I again LOVE the decision to have the guys talk to camera because it absolutely emphasizes the whole situation and Liza sidestepping away to visit the nurse just rounded off the whole crazy caper.

I have no words to describe how much I love the flat out ridiculous perfection of the visit to Nurse Maureen. Yes Liza has the epiphany that Josh and Charles bring out different things in her (though hot sex seems to be at the core of both so ya know, sounds like a win in the past and present and good for her on both accounts) and again, the unlikely scenario that her ex and current boyfriends are in the same place at the same time (while she is taking mind altering substance) has just played out so it also makes sense in this context. Quite frankly I'm shipping her and Maureen pretty hard at this point because a) it is not easy to pull off eyeshadow that green and b) everyone deserves someone in their life who has the kind of belief in Liza that Maureen does when she tells her 'I bet you can' dance just like me. I don't even know how to explain whatever that dance is but I just know that I want someone/something in my life that will windmill their/it's arms at me with such fervor that I find myself dancing with two attractive men in tuxedos on a galaxy stage.

I cannot express the joy I felt watching the entire dance scene, it was all just so. much. fun. But my absolute hands down favourite moment was when it cut back to the retreat and we, along with Charles and Josh, discover that Liza is in fact dancing with 'Maureen' the plant and seriously, this is up there with my highlights of the entire series. That and the reveal that the selfies Liza was taking were sent to Diana (Diana speaking to Liza in her 'sexy' voice, asking 'where is my plant?', Liza's, 'Maureen', I just cannot with every part of this glorious tie in at the end of the ep. I am sending Ashley Skidmore a houseplant to express my gratitude for gifting us with these moments*). Seeing Josh and Charles together was great but it was clear a scene was missing and I am SO glad that Younger released the deleted conversation between the two of them coz it was both necessary because YES and also because it suddenly made Charles' entire conversation and reason for his decision to sell Mercury make sense (ie. was pretty pivotal).

I big A adored Charles and Liza's conversation (and outfits and aesthetic overall) as they're leaving the retreat, the shift in Charles is palpable and it's just such a credit to the writing and acting to be able to convey so much in such a brief scene. Maggie of course experienced quite the shift herself, from ceiling to floor, with a sufficient amount of dangling as her helpful neighbourly pervert got himself off as she got herself down. But most importantly, Maggie got her mojo back (though is she not currently dating Beth? In which case location of missing mojo: unclear).

Now I gotta tell you, the final scene of this week's ep up and got me. Big time. Kelsey's earlier comment, that she really hates competing with Charles, certainly added weight to the resolution we've all been waiting for this season. Charles' honesty about his realisation that he is hurting his family, not to mention him confirming that he means Kelsey, Diana and Liza and that he wants to come home, ugh, my insides are gooey just writing these words, leads to his offer to Kesley and honestly, the interactions between all of them in this scene was wonderful. I loved that Kelsey held the room, that Charles was putting the offer to her from one businessperson to another (though thank goodness Diana was there to point out the difference between $1 and $1000000 eek! Also, I get that it would never occur to anyone that the price would be $1 so I'll cut Kels some slack). Diana looks like she is going to cry at any moment from elation and I love the way Kelsey asks for the approval of the ladies before shaking Charles' hand. This will forever be one of my favourite scenes on this show.

The thought of Charles coming back and working as an editor alongside Liza is an actual dream. I mean, I am very happy to be taken on the journey the writers set, but I have legit wondered what it would be like to see him in that role and he and Liza working together properly as equals and I absolutely cannot believe it's going to happen.

Well this ended up being quite a bit longer than I expected (lol, what a surprise). Bring on episode 7!

*I will not in fact be sending Ashley Skidmore a houseplant because I live in a very far away country, it would cost a lot of money and it is 1000% creepy to receive a dead plant from a stranger.

#youngertv #younger tv #recap #6x06 #liza miller #charles brooks #diana trout #kelsey peters #ramble #younger season 6

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unwoundbobbin · 6 years

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Nine Worlds 2018 - Sunday & Homeward

This write up is bought to you by a pack of Nerds, so who the hell knows how coherent it will be by the end.

(Actual footage of me)

From Saturday!

Sunday:

Our Last Best Hope for Science Fiction: 25 Years of Babylon 5

A look at a ground breaking sci-fi series, celebrating a show we love and how it grew from a something set on a space station to something truly special.

(Two Centauri, a starfleet officer, and a Morden(?) walk in to a panel...)

This is the panel I missed the talk on Golems for, and much as I wanted to see the Golems, this was 100% worth the trade, because I’ve never met that many people who are in to B5 before, and it was a really funny and thought provoking panel with some beautiful moments in it, including the moments of silence when we remembered those from the Babylon 5 family who have gone beyond the rim.

There was also discussion of favourite moments from Babylon 5. Mine has to be this, from the Centauri’s final assault on the Narn Homeworld. Peter Jurasik’s acting is superb here, but I love that the writers and director made a place in that episode to show the flipping of Mollari when he realises what he’s done - how out of control and repelled he feels by what should be a moment of triumph. And the moment he starts to work his way back towards some sort of redemption.

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I think my favourite quote of the whole thing was by the person cosplaying as Londo Mollari:

"Behold minbari Jesus - his name is Jeff"

(This psycop lurked for the entire panel. It’s as perfectly creepy and wonderful as it sounds. When I mentioned that on twitter, it devolved in to a Babylon 5 pun war...)

When I came out of the B5 panel, the one person I’d seen with a brain slug had become a collective. And they continued to grow in number throughout Sunday. Props to the person who spent an entire year making brain slugs to give away to strangers at Nine Worlds.

(The frightening brain slug collective. They continued to multiply throughout the day. Possibly the creepiest cosplay of the weekend, just because they continued to multiply.)

History’s Hidden Heroes III

Following two years of back-to-back success, the ‘History's Hidden Heroes’ session returns to its original format of ten to fifteen minute mini-talks by individual presenters discussing their favourite figures lost - or pushed aside - from mainstream history. Introduction by EK McAlpine, with talks from Tara, Avery, and Reiley.

This session was run by EK, and the speakers were Avery Delany, Tara Brown, and Reiley Daniels who all spoke about people in history who were part of the LGBTQ community, including some who were trans (though not remembered that way), some who were gender non-conforming, some who were openly queer at a time when that was (more) dangerous than now.

Avery spoke about trans masculine people in history, including a pioneering doctor, James Barry (note - while that Wiki article generally avoids using any pronouns at all, there is a source from the time quoted that misgenders Barry, so be careful if that would cause you any distress).

My favourite quote from Avery was “Do some queer history“, but I also really appreciated something I didn’t get the exact words of, but amounted to the idea that someone wouldn’t live as a gender different to the one they were assigned at birth for over 50 years if they did not actually identify as that gender. I really wish I’d got the actual words, because that quote stuck with me as much as anything.

Tara Brown spoke about three women of colour who were pioneers in blues and jazz - and sexuality, Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Gladys Bentley.

One of the most interesting, and awful, takeaways from this talk was the brief discussion about how there is some difference in the historical record as to the sexuality women presented, and that this is due to McCarthyism which basically forced at least Gladys Bentley to present herself as no longer a lesbian. It made me so cross to think of a person as comfortable in their sexuality as Bentley having to forcibly change themselves because of the massive risks that being out and proud served in the backwards looking 1950s America.

Reiley spoke about a quack physician called Charles Hamilton (misgendered practically everywhere on the internet), and the importance of checking multiple sources and subjecting them to due scrutiny.

If anyone enjoyed this panel is interested in other hidden heroes from sources that aim at diversity in who and what they talk about (and use content notices), I highly recommend @missedinhistory, Sawbones, and @rejectedprincesses.

The Future of Nine Worlds

It's time for a chat about Nine Worlds and where it's going. If you have strong thoughts about what you'd like to see the event become, and would like to get involved in making things happen, this is your in-person opportunity to talk about the options and understand how we got where we are.

Went to this, and I honestly don’t have a lot to say about it - not a lot a could say about it because I’m very much not the right person to speak about what happened in the majority of the session.

I will say that the announcement that Nine Worlds was re-constituting after this year’s con felt like a blow to the gut.

(This was an incredibly powerful moment, and to know that even though the current director is stepping back a future nineworlds is possible meant so very much.)

(Main point by what may turn out to be the future team was that Nine Worlds is too precious to lose)

CN for discussion of police at con, and a failure act appropriately to the stated concerns of a con-goer (and more concerned people who did not speak about it at the Future of Nine Worlds panel). When this section is over there will be a delightful gif of Wonder Woman deflecting bullets so scroll below her if you will find this section challenging.

What happened next is best summed up by Alecto101 in this post which I urge you all to read (also please read this followup thread by the same person). Her recollection of what happened at that panel is extremely accurate. I was there, and that is what happened. It was not dealt with adequately by anyone there in an official capacity. Most people who wanted to say something in follow up raised the fact that Alecto101 had not had her question and concerns adequately addressed, and when the people on the stage did so, it was in an inappropriate way that put the emotional and intellectual workload back on the person who had rightly raised legitimate concerns.

I have absolutely no patience with the people who immediately strawmanned (Oh, you don’t want police there at all - you can’t exclude attendees based on job) - I was there and at no point did Alecto101 suggest that.

What I’m trying to say is something EK said much more eloquently: “Concerns about how police participate in 9W and the separation of their jobs and their everyday lives as fans are ABSOLUTELY valid and not the same as “ban cops”.“

The developments since have been a little more positive, and I’m hoping that the reconstitution can be used as a way to build in representation of PoC from the beginning rather than trying to add on later. The way 9W works for members of the LGBTQ or disabled communities needs to be the way it works for the BaME community too, or it is not diverse (I’ve paraphrased here. I’m pretty sure I’ve just mangled the original quote. I can’t remember who said it but it wasn’t originally me).

For followup, I recommend reading Avery Delany’s thread here and this thread on the official Nine Worlds twitter account. This web page from Nine Worlds is also very important reading. If you have the physical, emotional, and mental spoons to do so, please consider signing up to be part of the future.

Finally, if you’re thinking about writing to Alecto, please first consider this tweet from the official Nine Worlds Team: “We do not want people to interact with the blogger on our behalf. We do not need defending. We do not want them pursued again for conversations they don’t want to continue. Their opinions are valid and we are glad to have heard them. “ and just DON’T.

After that I had more con crash, and tried to manage it myself in the quiet room, before worrying that my nose blowing was going to upset those who had sensory overload and needed genuine quiet, and ran away to my room where E wrapped me in a blanket and fed me biscuits until I was human again. She is awesome and I’m totally in her debt. (Thread here of what I struggled with wrt the quiet room - I am not saying it should go away BTW - I don’t know what the right answer is, just that I found it challenging for my own particular issues)

The end of the con was then barrelling towards me at a terrifying speed. I went off site for food with some friends, and then we all formed half of a team for the unofficial “The Not The End of the Con Quiz” as team Last Best Hope for Victory, and we only went and bloody won! Massive props to @knittedace and @laalratty who basically carried our team through two rounds pretty much on their own (even though one of our team who shall remain nameless nearly submitted “Aragorn” as the name of the giant spider in Harry Potter, which was caught before we submitted for marking, but they shall not live it down... for a while anyway :))

(Team Last Best Hope for Victory. Actual quiz victors!)

Went to bed at midnight after several rounds of Slash, which was really the perfect end to a great con (even if I did keep crashing).

(Me on my way home. I look pretty knackered there, but it doesn’t even touch how completely mentally (and to some extent physically) exhausted I was, and still am. Completely worth it though.)

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I may have listened to this on the journey home and sobbed. Like I said on my Friday post, it’s somehow become the song of the con for me.

#my stuff #babylon 5 #brain slug collective #brain slugs #nine worlds #nineworlds #Future of Nine Worlds #representation #diversity

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equinoxparanormal · 6 years

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6 Famous Figures, Past and Present, Who Claimed to Have Encountered Ghosts

Being rich, famous, or influential has plenty of perks—but escaping the spirit world's torments isn't necessarily one of them. Here are six prominent individuals, both past and present, who have either claimed or been said to have had close encounters with ghosts.

1. Joan Rivers

Few people—either living or dead—likely would have wanted to mess with Joan Rivers. But when the late comedian purchased a swanky Upper East Side penthouse condo in 1988, she found herself facing a formidable foe: the ghostly niece of financier and banker J.P. Morgan.

Rivers’s new home was a Gilded Age mansion, which was converted into condos in the 1930s. When she tried to renovate her own digs, however, she noticed a peculiar presence: “It was just very strange,” Rivers recounted in a 2009 episode of Celebrity Ghost Stories, according to the New York Post. “The apartment was cold. I could never get any of my electrical things to work correctly.” She also recalled that her pet Yorkshire Terrier refused to enter the room for months, and she saw strange graffiti on the walls.

When the building’s elevator operator heard about the strange occurrences, he reportedly said, “I guess Mrs. Spencer is back.” Instead of going head-to-head with the specter—who reportedly still thought of herself as "the grande dame of the building," according to Rivers—the comedian called in a New Orleans voodoo priestess to cleanse the home of spirits, and Rivers reported that her dog finally came into the apartment. But the hauntings soon returned—until Rivers made nice with the ghost by hanging a portrait of her in the building lobby and leaving flowers out for her.

In 2015, less than a year after Rivers's death, a Saudi prince purchased the penthouse for $28 million. According to reports, he disliked her decorating style and planned to gut-renovate the apartment. No word, however, on whether he’s also personally experienced the ire of Mrs. Spencer.

2. King George IV

Raynham Hall is a palatial estate in Norfolk, England with a spooky backstory: It’s reportedly haunted by a ghost known as the “Brown Lady of Raynham Hall”—and it's said that King George IV once saw the spirit with his own eyes.

The Brown Lady (who gets her name from her brown brocade dress) became world-famous in 1936 after photographers from Country Life magazine allegedly took a photo of her floating down the stairs in Raynham Hall. She’s believed to be the spirit of Dorothy Walpole, the sister of Great Britain’s first Prime Minister, Robert Walpole.

An important noble family called the Townshends built Raynham Hall in 1620, and a member of the clan—Charles Townshend, an 18th century British secretary of state—married Dorothy Walpole. The marriage was rumored to have been a bad one, and in 1726 Dorothy died around the age of 40, reportedly from smallpox. (One alternate tale says that Townshend pushed her down the estate’s grand staircase and she broke her neck; another claims she died of a broken heart.)

Dorothy’s spirit lingered, and Norfolk legend says that when King George IV was the young Prince of Wales, he slept in the estate’s State Bedroom and woke to see “a little lady all dressed in brown, with disheveled hair and a face of ashy paleness.” The future king left Raynham Hall immediately, and swore he would never spend another hour in the cursed house again.

3. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

At the peak of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's fame, the Sherlock Holmes author became obsessed with the paranormal. He believed in ghosts, wrote books about spiritualism and fairies, and attended séances. Sir Arthur didn’t believe he possessed supernatural powers himself, but in his 1930 book The Edge of the Unknown, he described several chance brushes he had with spirits.

In one anecdote, Sir Arthur described waking up “with the clear consciousness that there was someone in the room, and that the presence was not of this world.” His body was paralyzed, but he could still hear footsteps echoing across the room. Then, Sir Arthur said he sensed a presence leaning over him, and heard them whisper, “Doyle, I come to tell you that I am sorry.” Moments later, the mysterious visitor vanished, and Sir Arthur’s body unfroze.

Sir Arthur’s wife slept through the entire thing, but Doyle was convinced that the experience wasn’t a dream. He believed the ghost to be “a certain individual to whom I had tried to give psychic consolation when he was bereaved.” The man had turned down Doyle’s offer “with some contempt, and died himself shortly afterwards. It may well be that he wished to express regret,” Doyle wrote. As for his sleep paralysis, the author believed that the spirit needed to borrow power from a living person to appear in the physical world, and it had chosen him.

4. Sting

Fans of Sting know he’s no stranger to singing about ghosts. But in a few interviews, the ex-Police frontman claimed to have seen one, too.

At the time of his sighting, Sting had young children and owned a 16th century English manor house. One night, the musician awoke with a jolt at 3 a.m. He “looked into the corner of the room and thought I saw [my wife] Trudie standing there with a child—our child—in her arms, staring at me,” the musician recalled in a 2009 interview with BBC Radio 2.

Sting then reached over and noticed that Trudie was still in bed. He “suddenly got this terrible chill,” he said. “And she woke up and said 'Gosh, who is that?' and she saw this woman and a child in the corner of the room.''

The ghostly figure disappeared, but Sting’s spooky encounters were far from over: “A lot of things happened in that house, a lot of flying objects and voices and strange, strange things happened,” he said. “When you live in old houses, you get this energy there.”

5. Athenodorus Cananites

Historians remember Roman magistrate and writer Pliny the Younger for his dramatic, first-hand account of Mount Vesuvius’s eruption in 79 CE, but he could also tell a good ghost story. Around 100 CE, the scribe wrote a letter recounting the time the Greek Stoic philosopher Athenodorus Cananites stayed in a haunted house.

“There was in Athens a house, large and spacious, which had a bad reputation as though it was filled with pestilence,” the tale began. “In the dead of night, a noise was frequently heard resembling the clashing of iron which, if you listened carefully, sounded like the rattling of chains. The noise would seem to be a distance away, but it would start coming closer … and closer … and closer. Immediately after this, a specter would appear in the form of an old man, emaciated and squalid, with bristling hair and a long beard, and rattling the chains on his hands and feet as he moved.”

The home was eventually abandoned, and it remained empty until Athenodorus came to town. He considered buying the property, but was suspicious about its low price. The philosopher would soon learn that the house was haunted—but surprisingly, this made him want to buy it even more.

Athenodorus purchased the home, moved in, and stayed up late working, hoping to run into the ghost. Sure enough, he eventually heard the rattle of chains, looked up, and saw the old man’s spirit standing in front of him.

The philosopher pretended to ignore the ghost, but the impatient ghoul beckoned toward Athenodorus, motioning for him to come outside. He did, and the old man vanished—but the next day, Athenodorus ordered for the spot he disappeared on to be dug up. There, he found the ancient skeleton of a man clad in chains.

The bones were given a proper burial, and the ghost never haunted Athenodorus—or any other citizen of Athens—again.

6. Dan Aykroyd

Dan Aykroyd’s experiences with spirits aren’t limited to Ghostbusters. In a 2013 interview with Esquire, he claimed to have once lived in a Hollywood abode that was haunted by singer Cass Elliot, from American folk rock group The Mamas & the Papas, along with the ghost of a man buried under a hillside next to the house.

“I had several experiences,” Aykroyd recalled. “I saw things moving around on our counter, and doors opening and closing. The staff also had experiences, direct contact in terms of tactile touching, and then turning around and there's no one there.”

One day, Aykroyd claimed, one of the two ghosts crawled in bed with him while he was taking a nap. He woke up “in a trance," he said, and noticed that the bedroom’s previously closed door was ajar. Then, the actor spotted “a depression in the mattress, like somebody was getting in there,” he said. Not one to be afraid of no ghosts, Aykroyd decided to snuggle the spirit instead of screaming for help.

[Kirstin Fawcet, Mental Floss]

#ghosts #hauntings #paranormal

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rebootrevolution · 6 years

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X-Men Novelization Ch. 41

The news went wild.

Magneto’s attack on Washington D.C. created a whole new era of twenty-four hour news. It was all that the anchors talked about, in one way or another. If they were not talking about the attack itself in some fashion, how powerless the government was to stop the terrorists, how the terrorists inspired an unprecedented amount of fear in those they attacked, how the terrorists were of a new breed that was never before seen, the pundits and anchors were dissecting and analyzing from every possible angle the ways in which the attack influenced every other minutiae that ran across their desks. Was the recent tax crisis somehow related to the mutants? Was there some connection between the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants (as Magneto’s “terrorist cell” became known as, despite identifying themselves only as the Brotherhood of Mutants) and Al Queda or ISIS or the local gangs the plagued one major urban environment or another? Could it be that Magneto was behind the failed negotiations between the United States and South Africa, or the recent influx of illegal immigrants, or the influenza outbreak across the Eastern seaboard?

The manifesto released a week after the attack only fanned the flames. Sent from an anonymous source to several major news outlets, Magneto himself outlined the intentions and methods behind his attack. The document, dubbed the “Mutant Manifesto” in the coming months, outlined a historical materialism that lead inevitably from homo sapiens rising to the top of the food chain, enslaving the Earth itself to fit their needs, and finally to the replacement of homo sapiens by homo superior, or the mutant class, as Magneto dubbed them. The mutants would lead the planet’s convalescence, unite all cultures, and bring about an endless epoch of societal peace and cultural advancement never before imagined, Magneto said. To make it happen all the mutants of the world had to do was seize their own chains, break them, and proclaim their inherent right to the world around them.

From the very beginning, the news outlets sought out Charles Xavier’s opinion. The only reason he was not available via Cerebro to guide the mission in Washington D.C. was that he anticipated the arrival of the reporters on the Institute’s doorstep, their eager microphones poised to pounce on the first sign of danger that the world’s leading expert on mutancy could show. Xavier restrained himself. While his book on the X-Gene had been classified as a fringe science upon first publication, it quickly made him the face of a movement as the public at large sought out his opinion on whether humanity was truly irrelevant, or whether Magneto’s manifesto was the ravings of a madman or the prophetic words of a genius beyond his time.

Throughout all of it he never admitted that he himself was a mutant, the fact of which never escaped the notice of his students.

“But it was clear that Martin Luther King Jr. was black,” Kitty Pryde said in class, counteracting the point the Professor just made. “There was no way for him to hide it. If you’re saying he’s courageous for standing up for that which he was quite apparently a part of, wouldn’t it necessarily be cowardly for you to hide publicly from your own identification as a mutant?”

Professor Xavier smiled a this student. It was exactly the point he would have raised at her age, and it was only due to the complexity of life since being her age that he understood how difficult a question it was to answer. He looked around his class, from Kitty’s attentive and expectant eyes to Piotr’s own gaze locked on Kitty. He looked at Kurt struggling to stay still in his chair to Bobby, his arm still in a sling from the fight in D.C and a thick bandage over one eyebrow..

“MLK came at a time hundreds of years after the first Africans stepped foot in America,” Xavier said. “This country always knew they existed, to one extent or another, from the very beginning. While the mutant situation is analogous to that of other racial minorities, and it is important to respect such similarities, it is also important to recognize the ways in which our situation is different. We are genuinely something new. We are also, we must not forget, something that is legitimately dangerous.”

“Dangerous” was a word often bandied about in the mutant conversation. The senators who were present to give first-hand accounts of Magneto’s attack were able to attest to the danger that the mutant threat posed. All of them spoke of the ease with which their lives were almost extinguished, and almost none of them spoke of the valiency which lead to their safe retreat from the battle at hand. The X-Men and the Brotherhood were treated synonymously in the public parlance. They were, as far as the talking heads were considered, terrorist groups that wanted nothing more than the utter eradication of American life as it was known.

It was only because of the tone of such conversations that Xavier knew he had to step in, which is how he found himself on the wings of talk show at 5:30 in the morning, caked in makeup and running his fingers along his scalp endlessly. At last he heard his name announced and pressed his joystick forward, his wheelchair giving a dutiful hum as he rolled onto the set.

He shook hands and smiled throughout his greetings, but the morning talk show hosts wasted no time getting into the meet of their conversation. The tanned woman with stiff blonde hair looked at the camera as she spoke to Charles. “Well let’s get right to it, Mr. Xavier. What kind of danger are we in?”

“Now I don’t think it’s fair to assume we’re in any danger--

The male host piped in, his overly large tie knot like a fist at his neck, “We are coming off the heels of a full-blown terrorist attack right in our nation’s capital.”

“We should never, with any group, assume that the beliefs of terrorists represent accurately the beliefs of the groups they are a part of,” Xavier shot back. “Mutants have been among us for decades if not centuries. They have only remained so anonymous for so long by staying out of the public eye. I don’t think it’s fair to say the Brotherhood--

“And they do call themselves ‘The Brotherhood’” the woman cut in. “Those five members say they speak for all the mutants of the world. There’s no telling how many mutants there are or how many of them are members of this ‘Brotherhood.’ We saw what only five could do, if there were--

It was Charles turn to interrupt. “It’s very convenient for you that they are such scary boogeymen, isn’t it?” The edge of anger to Xavier’s voice seemed to quite the hosts for the moment. “It sells quite a lot of ad space if your viewers are glued to the TV from moment to moment waiting to hear how imminent their demise will be. I agreed to come onto this program to allay such fears, and I am sorry if that does not align with your agenda.”

He could feel the hosts about to take control of the conversation again, but he stopped it. He reached out with his mind and found the parts of them that wanted to listen, just an ember of curiosity that he could stoke and breath life into. They stayed silent.

Charles looked at the camera. “The truth is that there are likely hundreds of mutants out there who have hidden their whole lives, and they are terrified right now as much or more than you. While they may be your boogeyman, you are surely their boogeyman as they wonder when they will hear the knock on the door that signals the end of their freedom. We cannot forget that these are people, and that like with any people there are some who will do horrible things but there are also some that will do remarkable and extraordinary things. These are the mutants who are not to be forgotten.”

Later, when the program aired, Erik smiled at those last words of Xavier’s speech. He stood in the room of a clinic, one which was spacious and had mass produced art hanging on every wall. He wore a long and dark coat with a wide-brimmed hat and a bright red scarf that trailed down to his waist. He rested a hand on the gargantuan foot of the room’s sole occupant, a behemoth of a man lying with his eyes closed. The behemoth’s chest did not fall and rise with his breath, although the machines indicated that he was still alive. Erik turned from the TV hanging on the wall, the smile still on his face.

“Did you hear that, boy? Apparently your brother does not want you to be forgotten.”

#x-men #reboot #marvel #comics #professor x #charles xavier #kitty pryde #shadowcat #erik lensherr #magneto #cain marko #juggernaut #brotherhood of mutants #mutants #x-gene

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delightful-mystery · 4 years

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Why I Boycotted Once Upon A Time In Hollywood

Before I begin, I want to start by saying that the word “boycott” obviously means that I haven’t seen the film. It’s kind of unusual for me to argue about something without fully informing myself of the facts first, but this is something I had to write about.

(and I will watch Once Upon a Time in Hollywood once I can source it for free…)

Okay, so now that we have the disclaimer out of the way, I want to begin by saying I used to be a massive Tarantino fan. I still am, to some extent. I love violent films and gore, and I am never one to shy away from anything because it is too weird or too violent (I’m not saying I class Tarantino as particularly weird, but I think he wants to be, and for mainstream films, he’s not the most basic).

But, looking back on his films now from the perspective of someone who knows a little bit more about the world than the 15-year-old girl who persuaded her dad to watch Pulp Fiction with her, I feel uncomfortable. Not about the violence inherently, not even about the violence against women inherently, but about the fact that every punch in the face that a pregnant Uma Therman received was directed by a man.

Obviously, feeling uncomfortable is kind of Tarantino’s end game here. But how much power over our emotions should be demanded by a white man who has never come up against societal oppression in his life? It’s weird. And that’s even before you start thinking about how many N-words you hear in his films. He does pay homage to the blaxploitation film trend with Jackie Brown, but… he’s not black? So is it his trend to reclaim?

Moving on from Tarantino himself, I next wanted to talk about why it was Once Upon A Time in Hollywood which particularly spiked my annoyance. And this is where I get to nerd out about one of my favourite true crime stories of all time – the Manson Murders. In a way similar to Tarantino reclaiming a narrative which is not his to reclaim, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and the true crime story of the Manson Murders is a story which, I believe, should be reclaimed by women.

The Manson Murders are one of the most widely talked about true crime stories out there. It’s also my personal favourite, another reason why I got so annoyed about this film being made. Charles Manson was a very troubled man who wanted to be a rockstar. Towards the end of the sixties, after a troubled childhood and adolescent spent in and out of prison, he began to gather a cult around him, known as “The Family”, convincing vulnerable young women who had run away from home that he was the messiah and would save them from the imminent apocalypse. What he really wanted was to record and release an album in response to the Beatles’ White Album, which he believed held the secret to surviving the apocalypse and was calling for him, in secret messages, to respond with his own music. When his demos were rejected by the music moguls of Hollywood, Manson told his followers that they had to enact revenge on those who wronged him, leading some of his right-hand women to kill an 8-month pregnant Sharon Tate and some of her friends who were in the house with her.

[This is a very condensed version of what happened. For an in-depth version, I recommend the podcast ‘You Must Remember This’ and its series named ‘Manson’s Hollywood’.]

Creepy Manson is creepy.

Manson used a variety of methods to ensure that, once in the cult, the members were not able to leave. They felt they depended on him, and he constantly fed them lies about being the chosen one, how special they were to him, as well as giving them tabs of acid and talking to them whilst they were tripping. This sort of tactic obviously includes a lot of manipulating, brainwashing, gaslighting and more, even before we get to the illegal drugs. This sort of operation could only have happened on this scale at this time – i.e. the late sixties, where it was commonplace to “turn on, tune in, drop out” (a.k.a. running away from home to practice free love and take lots of acid) – meaning that there were plenty of young women and men roaming the streets. Manson’s “commune” on his ranch must have seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to find like-minded people who also believed in a new world. Charles Manson gathered followers over the years and told them of ‘Helter Skelter’ (so named after the Beatles’ song) – the apocalypse led by black people who would kill all the whites. This obviously sounds crazy written on paper, but after leaving their whole lives behind and being brainwashed instead by a guy who had smooth-talked his way into living in one of the Beach Boy’s homes (seriously, he did that), his followers were primed to believe anything.

The Manson Murders are a gendered issue. And this is where I have a problem. It’s literally a tale of how one man manipulated a bunch of women. Vulnerable women, at the hands of one man who, after years of coercion and brainwashing, were manipulated into carrying out one of the most bizarre and bloodthirsty crimes that the States have ever seen.

“Hold up now, weren’t there men in Charlie’s cult as well?”

Well yes, anonymous keyboard-owner, there were. And I’m glad you asked. There were indeed men involved in Charles Manson’s cult, but it was only the women who were subjected to the sexual manipulations, coercion and rape which Manson inflicted on his followers. He also predominantly targeted women to join The Family. Men were collateral damage in this instance, people he just picked up along the way. His main priority was finding women to follow him, and for him to have sex with.

The crime itself was carried out by Tex Watson, Susan Atkins, Patricia Kenwinkle and Linda Kasabian. It was predominantly women who committed the best-known act of Tate’s murder (and the murder of the LaBiancas which I’m going to guess isn’t given as much screen time in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood because by this point Margot Robbie isn’t around?) and the murder of Tate’s unborn child in a perversion of motherhood which many see as a complete rejection of her femininity. Again, this story is a gendered crime. The manipulation which led up to it was gendered. It’s an extreme case of gaslighting and manipulation, sure, but it wouldn’t be the first time a woman has been manipulated by a narcissistic man.

And somehow, I don’t think Tarantino would take all of this into account when directing his film.

I have yet to watch it, of course (and I will post a follow-up review once I have and we can see if any of these predictions were right). But what I have done is read The Girls by Emma Cline. One of the best books I have ever read, The Girls is an occasionally overwritten but nonetheless a beautifully hazy and melancholic look at the end of the sixties, and loosely based on Charles Manson and The Family. It’s such a good read, whether you know about the Manson Murders or not (I have read it once before, and once after, becoming a nerd about this subject matter). What it’s especially good at, however, is bringing in the context of being a woman in this society. I have a few passages highlighted in this book. One of them is as follows; “All that time I had spent readying myself, the articles that taught me life was really just a waiting room until someone noticed you – the boys had spent that time becoming themselves.” She recognises that the fiendish acts of Manson would not have been able to occur had patriarchal inequality not existed. There are other examples of this being recognised, Charlie Says being one of them – a slightly underwhelming film by Guinevere Turner and directed by Mary Harron, the team behind American Psycho. This film uses the art-rehabilitation program in the Santa Cruz Prison Project – aimed to rehabilitate female inmates with feminist praxis and reading, and other art-based creative projects designed to give them more of a sense of self, independent from Manson – to frame the narrative and explore deeper the characters of the Mason murderesses. Unfortunately, it’s a great idea carried off without much success, but this is only one drop in the ocean of Manson-related media.

Matt Smith, Marian Rendon, Kayli Carter and Merritt Weaver in the sadly lacklustre feminist take on the Manson murders, Charlie Says.

We as a culture are obsessed with him. There’s countless films about this guy – Helter Skelter, The Manson Family, Summer of Love (which was never actually finished). He has almost 40,000 monthly listeners on Spotify. I see Once Upon as a film which panders more towards the status of Manson and examines his crimes in the way that Tarantino tends to look at violence – with curiosity, and without moral judgement. I’m not saying you can’t make a fun film about the late sixties but I guess I would feel more comfortable if it was guaranteed that these issues would be explored sensitively by someone who understands them.

But hey, I guess I could be wrong. I haven’t seen it after all. The film, from what I can tell, does not focus so much on “The Family” and instead chooses to follow at Leo and Brad as a failing actor and his stunt double. Does that make it better or worse? Does Margo Robbie get the well-rounded character development she deserves before Tate is brutally murdered by the women of The Family? And that’s another thing – Tarantino’s history of woman-on-woman action and fighting is not the most reassuring thing for me to base this essay on. It’s fetishistic and bloody – take again the scene of pregnant Uma Therman being beaten up by her co-workers in Kill Bill. It’s not to say his scenes in which he depicts violence against men are not completely horrible as well (the rape in Pulp Fiction, for example), but – as far as I’m aware – that scene was not based on a true story.

Tarantino has also, in his personal life, defended both Harvey Weinstein and Roman Polanski (also weirdly caught up in the story of the Manson Murders as he was married to Sharon Tate at the time). He has also caused Uma Therman permanent injuries of her neck and knees due to what she describes as “criminal negligence” during a dangerous driving scene in Kill Bill, which he insisted she did, instead of a stuntwoman. I’m just saying, he may not have the best understanding of how violence against women, and women’s issues in general, should be portrayed onscreen.

Then again, I haven’t watched the film. But after reading this piece, I would hope that you understand why I chose not to.

from Why I Boycotted Once Upon A Time In Hollywood

#Why I Boycotted Once Upon A Time In Hollywood #personal #mylife

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neversaw-youcoming · 7 years

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The Mysterious Death of Mildred Button

“I just do not understand why you wanted to come to this sort of distasteful spectacle, Charles.” Emma Darwin sighed.

“Now darling, you are always asking me to get out of my study and spend more time with you and the children. It’s supposed to be a fun day out for us.” Charles Darwin looked at his wife eagerly. “And this way I do not have to get on another boat to the colonies to study these exotics savages like I did in my youth on the Beagle.”

Excitement glistened in Darwin’s eyes as he walked up a dusty path to a large striped tent ahead, with the words Behold, Human Freaks! painted in large letters on the sign hung above. “Some of my colleagues have mentioned there is this girl here that is covered in hair like an ape! They say she is the missing link that will turn my next book into an even bigger breakthrough than On the Origin of Species! Oh, I do hope they are correct.”

Emma held her tongue when she saw how excited her husband was. She hated his work and how it drew a big wedge between him and God, but what was she to do she had no control over him? The nights she had spent aching and praying for his soul seemed countless. It took a while but she had come to terms with the fact that he was not going to stop his research, for it was a hunger inside to learn that drove him.[1] She had come to accept his work with animal species, but hearing that he was trying to broaden his theory to people made her scared and wistful for the time when mollusks and barnacles were all he talked about.

“Run along children, and do not touch anyone!” she called ahead, squeezing her husband’s hand a bit tighter as he paid and they ducked under the flap into a dark space lit up by torches on the walls of the tent. The Darwin’s stood together by the back of the tent as their vision adjusted to the dim lights. The murmur of the crowd grew louder as the curtain on stage shook.

A man in a top hat and a dirty brown suit waltzed onto stage, “Ladies and Gentleman!” the booming voice echoed around them.

“Here we go!” Charles said pulling out an old notebook and pencil from his coat pocket. He flipped through pages and pages of notes scratched into the paper for his next book, The Descent of Man. He settled on a blank page when the crowd hushed.

“What you are now about to see is proof of the remarkability of man!” the announcer bellowed. “My name is Tom Norman and I’m here to show you the one and only Mr. Joseph Merrick, the Elephant Man!”[2] The curtain dropped and the crowd gasped at the sight of the deformed man on stage.

“Good heavens!” Mrs. Darwin exclaimed, hiding her face in her husband’s chest, the wool fabric tickling her face.

“How fascinating!” Mr. Darwin said, stepping forward through the crowd to get a better view.

“Oh you are mad as hops!” Emma called after him, but is drowned out by the murmuring spreading through the crowd from the sight of the man on stage in front of them. Merrick stood in his refined Sunday’s best, breathing loudly like a dog panting in the sun. A couple of women ran towards the exit at the sight of him, and a mother was shushing her crying child.

“Now do not be afraid me friends!” Mr. Norman exclaimed. “Do not to despise or condemn this man on account of his unusual appearance. Remember,” he asserted, “we do not make ourselves, and were you to cut or prick Joseph … he would bleed, and that bleed or blood would be red, the same as yours or mine.”[3] An air of awe swept over the crowd as Merrick gave them a bow. “I want you to look into your hearts and see that this man is the most remarkable human being ever to draw the breath of life! For he is not a monster but a master work of nature!” [4]

Charles scribbled a description of Merrick into his notebook, “enormous and misshapened head. From the brow there projected a huge bony mass like a loaf, while from the back of the head hung a bag of spongy, fungous-looking skin…”[5] Mr. Norman continued to work the crowd in the background, telling them how Merrick was a working man from right there in England, and earned his living just like the rest of us.[6]

The Darwin’s walked hand in hand together, looking at the other freaks on display, waiting for the next one on the main stage. The torches flickered on the wall. “How about that? Do you think it was some sort of accident?” Emma asked Charles.

“Actually ma’am, I was born this way.”

“Oh my! I am sorry I did not think you could hear me.” Mrs. Darwin said, startled to be interacting with the man that appeared to have no arms or legs at all. Sat on a trunk, he wore a garment that resembled a sock along his whole body.

“Happens all the time don’t worry about it,” the man said in a gruff voice, “the name’s Prince Randian but I’m known here as The Snake Man. Want to see me roll a cigarette?”[7] He grabs a small glass jar of tobacco with his mouth from the side of his trunk and used his shoulder to hold the paper in place as he sprinkled the tobacco inside.

“My good sir, where do you come from?” Charles asked.

Prince Radian managed to get the cigarette into his mouth and light it. “British Guinea.”[8] Darwin scribbled in his journal.

“Now, may I have your undivided attention as I present the missing link in our evolution, all the way from Laos, Krao!”[9] Norman bellowed once again on stage.

“Oh I must see this!” Charles said, grabbing his wife’s hand and weaving his way through the crowd. “What a fascinating find!” he sighed, observing the girl on stage covered completely in thick dark hair. The show had dressed her up in a blue dress fitting of a girl her age, something Mrs. Darwin would have made their daughter Annie wear.

“Krao here is an eight year old girl, and a perfect specimen of the step between man and monkey!”[10] Mrs. Darwin was appalled at the claim this dirty freak show owner was making, who seemed to be a big fan of her husband. “Who here has read On the Origin of Species?” Norman asked the crowd. Charles eyes lit up with glee as he turned to his wife when a light cheer ran through the audience, not letting the several sounds of displeasure get to him. “Well, I am sure Mr. Darwin would agree that this girl here with her primitive, hairy body, fits his theory to a tee.”

“What a remarkable creature!” Darwin turns to his wife as the stage show continues. “This is exactly what I needed to finish my evidence collection on my next book. It is the key to my theory.”

“You know how I feel about this, Charles.” Emma sighed.

“I am sorry, my dear, but no honorable man shall accuse me of concealing my views once I finish this book.”[11] He says triumphantly. “My views have often been grossly misrepresented, bitterly opposed and ridiculed.” [12]

“Maybe you should write a clarification of what you believe next, if you are so concerned about your legacy here on earth.” Emma rolled her eyes at her husband.

“You are angry with me?”

“The habit in scientific pursuits of believing nothing till it is proved, influence your mind too much. The situation that has befallen that girl is likely to be above our comprehension. The existence of God cannot be proved in the same way as all your studies.”[13]

“Darling, I cannot deny my own mind. When I am dead, know that many times, I have kissed and cried over this,[14] but I cannot avoid the belief that man must come under the same law.”[15] He put his arm around Emma just as a crash echoed from the stage.

Gasps ran through the audience with the realization that the Bearded Lady, who had just walked on stage, collapsed. Her pink dress was strewn across the floor and Tom Norman was knelt next to her, lightly slapping the sides of her face to try and revive her. He stood up, “Alright now, stay calm everyone. Some find the Lady Isabella!” he shouted over the commotion. The Bearded Lady came to, and was handed a glass of water by Krao.

Suddenly, a woman in a purple and orange oriental gown and turban burst through the flap of the tent.[16] Distressed and hands covered in blood she yells out “Mildred Button is dead!”

Chaos erupted in the crowd, which Norman started to usher out of the tent. “Sorry folks, due to unknown circumstances the rest of the shows are canceled for today!”

Two men in suits approach Norman, “Excuse me, we were here for the show but we are detectives with local law enforcement and are here to help with this apparent murder of one of your performers is it?”[17]

“Yes, yes,” said Norman, still in shock. He grabbed one of the detectives by the arm and said, “she was our only dwarf in the show. Look, I have as little information as you do we are going to have to talk to the Lady Isabella.” Tom Norman began to steer the detectives towards the Lady Isabella while Emma Darwin gathers her kids to leave. Charles started to follow behind them when the detective with a mustache stopped him.

“I am sorry, sir, but do you happen to be Charles Darwin? I recognize you from the paper,” the detective remarks.

“Oh yes, lovely to meet you. I will be getting out of your way.” Darwin tried to duck past the man.

“Actually sir, I was wondering if you would stick around for the investigation? My friend here Arthur Weaver is a consulting detective for the force whose a scientist and we have found that the more scientists we have at an investigation the faster we can solve it.”[18]

Darwin hesitates for a moment, “alright then, but I must get back to my family soon.” The detective holds out his hand to Charles “The name is John, John Fisher. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

The two walk over to Norman and Isabella who was animatedly talking to Detective Weaver. “She claims she went into the female freak’s tent to talk to Ms. Button about the show they were doing together tonight and found her bleeding heavily from between her legs,” Detective Weaver says to his partner.

“She was dead when I found her! There was no way she was pregnant or nothing! She never even had her first menarche the doctors think she was too small,” Lady Isabella explained to the detectives.

“Lady Isabella is basically the manager of the female freaks here, knows all their medical information and keeps them all fresh and healthy for the shows,” Norman said.

“Actually I feel her spirit here with us!” Lady Isabella exclaimed.

“Huh?” said Darwin.

“She is also out in house medium. Sell out shows every week,” Norman said proudly.

“A medium, say,” Fisher inquires, “why don’t you just talk to Mildred’s spirit and she can tell ya why she is dead.”

“Yes! We must hold a séance!” The two detectives nod in agreement as Darwin tried to figure out he became a part of the side show act.

All but one torch was blown out and the five of them sat around a table with Lady Isabella at the head of it. “I ask you to all join hands and open yourself to the realm beyond,” the Lady Isabella said. Charles Darwin could not believe the scene he had gotten himself into but decided to play along and close his eyes.

“I call to you Mildred Button. Come to us and illuminate what brought you to such an untimely end.” The Lady Isabella started to take larger and larger breaths and it seemed that everyone else had stopped breathing. This single torch on the wall flickered fast. “Yes, my girl! Speak through me!”

A shiver seemed to pass through Lady Isabella as the table started to shake. Suddenly the table stopped and the Lady Isabella’s eyes snapped open. Her whole demeanor changed from commanding to scared.[19] “There was this doctor…” Darwin’s eyes snapped open at the voice. It had come from the Lady Isabella’s mouth but it was not her own. This voice was timid and of a higher pitch, not unlike a little girl or dwarf women he assumed. Goose bumps spread up his arms, he tried to tell himself it was the body’s natural reaction to the unknown and he was not actually afraid there was a spirit talking through the women beside him.

“There was this doctor who said he was going to cure me,” the voice continued. “He had come to check on all of the women, but he spent extra time on me because I was feeling down about work and had these coughing fits recently. I heard the mention of hysteria. I am not crazy!” [20]the voice seemed distressed.

“Who was the doctor, what happened?” Detective Weaver asked.

“I do not remember much, but it was very painful and when I woke up I no longer felt like a women.” A tear rolled down Lady Isabella’s face. “A week of pain went by that just got worse, and today I could not even walk. The incisions he made down there in me were swollen, and then there was a tearing, and the blood would not stop coming. I tried to call for help but everyone was at the show.”

“Do you know who the Doctor was, Mildred Button? We cannot solve your murder unless you tell us who treated you here,” Fisher exclaimed.

The Lady Isabella had tears streaming down her face. The voice came through with the sound of pure anger. “It was Dr. Baker Brown,” it hissed.

The Lady Isabella’s head collapsed onto the table. She looked up, appearing to be out of her trance. “God Almighty in heaven, rest her soul. That was the man who saw the Bearded Woman! I heard her go on and on about some cure, I thought she was talking nonsense!” Lady Isabella explained, voice back to normal.

The detectives looked back and forth at each other. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Detective Fisher asks his partner.

“That is the man we had been getting multiple reports about!” Detective Weaver shouted, slamming his palms on the table and getting up. “We can use Mildred Button’s death to finally end that Ratbag! This will make our careers!” He slapped his buddy on the arm.

The detectives shook the hands of Norman and Lady Isabella. “We will try to pin him for murder, but if that does not stick we will at least be able to get him for destruction of property for your freak show because you lost an act,” Detective Fisher said. “We must get going but we will update you guys when we can.” The two detectives ducked out of the tent together.

“I best be going,” Darwin said. “I am glad you will be getting justice for your friend Mildred, a man as dastardly as that deserves to be off the street for good. You cannot force evolution by removing part of a being.” He shook hands with Norman.

Charles Darwin turned to Lady Isabella. “I do not know what you just did there ma’am, but my wife is always telling me that there are things on this Earth that are truly beyond our comprehension and I think you might be the first proof I have found of that.” She smiled at him as he walked out of the tent to tell his wife and kids a new fantastic story to match those from his youth.

[1] Charles Darwin, The Autobiography of Charles Darwin, 1958, 197.

[2] Nadja Durbach, “Monstrosity, Masculinity, and Medicine: Re-Examining the Elephant Man,” Cultural and Social History, 2012, 201.

[3] Durbach, “Monstrosity, Masculinity, and Medicine,” 201.

[4] Ibid, 201.

[5] Ibid, 194.

[6] Ibid, 202.

[7] “Prince Randian: Biography,” International Movie Database, 2017.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Nadja Durbach, “The Missing Link and the Hairy Belle: Krao and the Victorian Discourses of Evolution, Imperialism and Primitive Sexuality,” Victorian Freaks, 2008, 1.

[10] Ibid, 1.

[11] Darwin, The Autobiography of Charles Darwin, 107.

[12] Ibid, 103.

[13] Ibid, 198.

[14] Ibid, 199.

[15] Ibid, 107.

[16] Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four, 2001.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four.

[19] Alex Owen, “The Darkened Room: Women, Power, and Spiritualism in Late Victorian England,” The New Cultural Studies Series, 1990.

[20] Isaac Baker Brown, “On the Curability of Certain Forms of Insanity, Catalepsy, and Hysteria in Females,” 1866.

#writing #story #history #historical fiction #freak show #charles darwin #the mysterious death of mildred button #victorian england #victorian era #victorian era fiction #personal #mine #i had to write this for class and since i havent posted any writing in awhile i thought id add it to my list lol #fic

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