#goodbye robert. suffocated to death

[crispyadorablepotatochip]

Well, I wrote a second chapter. 😅 Click below to read it!

Should old acquaintance be forgot

And never come to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot

And auld lang syne?

Auld Lang Syne, Robert Burns (1788)

The wind positively howls through the thin, broken window of Elphaba Thropp’s cottage. There’s no point in planning to fix it anymore after Fiyero has moved out. It isn’t something she can complain about and he can deny her fondly, this little push-and-pull song-and-dance they settled into—no longer lovers, but not what they used to be even further back when Elphaba wanted him badly from afar.

Fiyero can’t die, is the issue. The previous month he saw her hips go bad from walking up the mountain path and said: being frank, he cares too much to bear the sight of her growing even older. One day she will slip into death—as if she hasn’t been slipping into death since her very birth, she thinks, and harrumphs. But nevertheless they both understand that if he were a different person, less of who he is and more like who he pretended to be, he might be sitting next to her right now. He might be able to stand the world and not collapse like wet straw under the vast, sheer amount of it. He might love her less. They are both ghosts now, but he will never fade until their very existence is reduced to legend and rumor as transcribed by the Royal Historians of Oz. Who could blame him for skipping the end?

Elphaba flexes her hands. They smell like herbs from the garden even after hours after tending to it. Thyme and rosemary and Lurline-damned dill, which choked out everything else if she didn’t start ripping it out to pickle their vegetables. As could be expected, Fiyero made a horrible excuse for a scarecrow. The crows, in fact, were more likely to start pecking at his button-black eyes than they were to fly away, though the Crows were polite. She can live without him well enough—she can still garden and fetch water and tend to the world in subtle ways where it allows her to. Living won’t be that difficult, until eventually it is.

She doesn’t know what he’s doing that evening. His eventual plan was to escape to the fantasticalistic utopia of Canziss, unseekable except by sheer longing for it or happenstance; under the rainbow or home again. Fiyero left her right as the sun rose. The light fractured over the corners of his little burlap head into golden rays. He lifted his sack over his shoulder with a gnarled stick as a lever—the very image of a pilgrim. And then, like so many times before, he raised his arm for a casual two-finger salute, completely out of code. A last spit in the face to the Gale Force before he was gone.

The wind makes the room cold. Elphaba feels a resurgence of sentiment for when he really left—only for a heartbeat or two nailed into those crossed boards, beaten and broken. What a blessing never to know that feeling again. What a curse that he will, over and over until eventually foot-paths wear the dirt of the world down and it disappears at last.

As always, behind Elphaba’s closed eyes she imagines Glinda suffocating in layers of blue or pink tulle while she waves like a queen to her subjects. Elphaba can’t recall the last time she’s seen a newspaper; the Animals who stumble into her secretive chain of contact tell her that Glinda is less of a figurehead than was probably intended. She hears only trickles of information, too sparse to construct any nuanced understanding of Oz’s socio-political landscape. She knows, at least, that Glinda lowered tariffs on agricultural goods from an independant Munchkinland, formerly their national breadbasket. Glinda outlawed the consumption of Animal meat and reinstated Animal suffrage. She officiated cultural appreciation programs with the Vinkus. And so on. Each of these acts gave Elphaba and Fiyero weeks of discourse to chew on—her sitting close to the fireplace and him in a rocking chair facing the window. She doesn’t expect that he will say goodbye to Glinda before he’s in Canziss. But he will think of her. They both do. Always.

Elphaba cannot remember her dreams by morning, though Fiyero says she has nightmares. Cries out Glinda’s old name in two syllables—Ga-linda—near the dawn, begging her for whatever it is she wants, whether it’s crumpled sheets and sweat or simply her presence, how Glinda used to smile up at her like the sun.

She’s aware enough of herself to have realized that they might have been in love once. Certainly Elphaba is still in love with her; but it doesn’t mean much. What is love? Devotion? They certainly had that, but Glinda was always too selfish to give up the comfort of the world for good and Elphaba was always too selfish to give up the good of the world for comfort. Today she is tired enough to stop worrying about wickedness or goodness, resigning herself to the universal gray fate of moral impurity. So it goes.

There is no-one left except herself, now. She wonders how she can live with such loneliness pressing in on all sides, whipping at her cheeks like the wind. Glinda must be lonely too. In years prior Elphaba and Fiyero could amuse themselves together—but now what? Is she to grow more bitterness like weeds in the place behind her ribs? More sorrow, more heartache? She wishes she were less like Fiyero; she wishes she could bear it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62117947

it’s all coming back to me now by jrm8097 (aka me) featuring Glinda Upland/Elphaba Thropp

Word count: 816

Tags: Grief/Mourning, mainly musicalverse and movieverse but with characterization inspo from the books, Propaganda, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, implied comphet lesbian Glinda, Angst

Fic summary:

“In her hands crumples a poster extracted from inside Glinda’s silk pillowcase. Bold text, red upon green. Bring HER down, it reads. The color is faded in neat divisions where she’s folded and unfolded it over and over again in study. The drawing doesn’t look very much like the Witch, Glinda always thinks. Maybe the nose is sharper? The skin—a sicklier shade, smoother, more wax-like than human? She can’t identify the flaws with any accuracy now. It’s been too many years. But the nails, yellowed, are wrong.”

Or, Glinda the Good is too old for this now.

Press “more” for the full fic!

Sometimes a great wave of forgetfulness

Rises up and blesses me

And other times the sickness howls

And I despair of any remedy

Prowl Great Cain, The Mountain Goats (2011)

—

The palace lies shrouded; after dusk, the etchings in the walls—harsh, angular—send shadows cascading down them in rippled little lines. Perhaps the whole structure really is made of emerald, but Glinda hasn’t ever bothered to ask. And who could possibly answer the question? The details of its construction must have been recorded in rare books somewhere, but as a matter of propaganda, the Wizard enjoyed spectacle. Oz needed its Emerald Palace as a cultural focal point of luxury and power, representing the hopes and wishes of every citizen, etc, so he said—then quoted a man named Jung, whoever that was—and anyways it isn’t like Glinda could threaten it out of him now. The Wizard disappeared in his replica balloon many years ago.

As the nation’s de-facto leader Glinda denounces his tactics publicly, but she has to admit that they were effective. Even after all her efforts, the past remains blurry and vague like hidden through the rainbow sheen of a bubble. She tried to collect the truth of the Wizard’s doings—every motion he passed or secret allyship he formed—but there is so much to do and so little time to do it. Only a few years into her reign, she saw that it was impossible to determine history with any accuracy. She would simply have to go on without it.

The Witch was good at history, she remembers. But the Witch is dead.

Glinda sits on her bed, legs wrapped in the beaded brocade of her blankets, and observes how under moonlight her skin stretches and sags with the weight of time. She feels very old all of a sudden. So far displaced from the bright-eyed student of Shiz or the strained socialite grappling with politics she only barely understands.

In her hands crumples a poster extracted from inside Glinda’s silk pillowcase. Bold text, red upon green. Bring HER down, it reads. The color is faded in neat divisions where she’s folded and unfolded it over and over again in study. The drawing doesn’t look very much like her, Glinda always thinks. Maybe the nose is sharper? The skin—a sicklier shade, smoother, more wax-like than human? She can’t identify the flaws with any accuracy now. It’s been too many years. But the nails, yellowed, are wrong. They got them together at the Emerald City—the other’s idea, of course. Glinda with green gems on hers and the Witch with glittering geometric shapes mimicking the architecture of the palace. It must have been the last time she ever got them done; certainly no-one would service an enemy of the state, and Glinda knows the woman wouldn’t risk being captured simply for the sake of fashion. Although, in retrospect, she probably did enjoy fashion—her black dresses emphasized her shoulders and slimmed down at her waist fetchingly. Before everything happened, the Witch always sported fresh manicures. She had been sketched into collective unconsciousness with outstretched claws.

Glinda closes her eyes and remembers the smooth texture of them, running her hands up and down Elphaba Thropp’s. Elphaba. Elphie. Her mouth presses into a weak line at merely the thought of the name. She tries to avoid it. Most days, so busy with her duties, it’s easy. But at nighttime the shape of the words haunts her head like an echo against an empty cave, trapping it inside to ricochet off her every thought. When was the last time anyone had spoken them aloud? Who was the last person to love Elphie and say it?

She can’t even imagine what it must have been like for Fiyero. In the end, they gave him a state military funeral and dropped all charges posthumously—even though the body was missing, of course. He might have eventually made a life with Elphaba if he hadn’t been killed. Glinda doesn’t know; she used to curse his legacy and think he was stupid for trying. Now she understands she simply isn’t that sort of person. She cannot be perfectly in love. And Oz, that she were perfect.

Glinda’s eyes are dry. She raises the paper up and her mouth goes even more tense. Then, delicately, she presses it to the corner of the picture’s, head tilted slightly. For deniability’s sake, the two mouths—one cold, one warm—do not directly overlap. And suddenly the paper is wetted, uncontrollable, with a surge of emotion so intense and tender that Glinda never wants to name it, wants to shove it away and lock it into a secret cabinet of her mind. She is too old for this.

When she finally draws away it comes with the realization that her tears have pulled streaks in the delicate ink. The single remnant she has allowed herself to keep of the Witch melts. There is nothing she can do about it.

[alto-tenure]

so a while ago I made a list of how every victim falls in Ace Attorney to determine the most common cause of death. this includes assaults/attempted murders (e.g. Edgeworth being attacked in The Kidnapped Turnabout, DGS1-4, DGS2-2, LV-1)

TL;DR: Stabbing is the most common, followed by gunshot and blunt force trauma.

the dissection is under the cut; spoilers for every game

STABBING: 20

Jack Hammer (Turnabout Samurai)

Bruce Goodman (Rise from the Ashes)

Neil Marshall (Rise from the Ashes)

Terry Fawles (Turnabout Beginnings)

Misty Fey (Bridge to the Turnabout)

Rex Kyubi (The Monstrous Turnabout)

Constance Courte (Turnabout Academy)

Clay Terran (The Cosmic Turnabout)

Metis Cykes (Turnabout for Tomorrow)

Manov Mistree (The Magical Turnabout)

Tahrust Inmee (Rite of Turnabout)

Inga Karkhuul Khura’in (Turnabout Revolution)

Byrne Faraday (Turnabout Reminiscence)

Manny Coachen (Turnabout Ablaze)

Horace Knightley (The Imprisoned Turnabout)

Mason Milverton (The Adventure of the Runaway Room)

Olive Green (The Adventure of the Clouded Kokoro)

Jezaille Brett/Asa Shinn (The Adventure of the Blossoming Attorney)

Odie Asman (The Return of the Great Departed Soul)

Klint van Zieks (The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo)

GUNSHOT: 19

Robert Hammond (Turnabout Goodbyes)

Gregory Edgeworth (Turnabout Goodbyes)

Manfred von Karma (Turnabout Goodbyes)

Turner Grey (Reunion, and Turnabout)

Pal Meraktis (Turnabout Corner)

Romein Letouse (Turnabout Serenade)

Thalassa Gramarye (Turnabout Succession)

Dhurke Sahdmadhi (Turnabout Revolution)

Buddy Faith (Turnabout Visitor)

Colin Devorae/Oliver Deacon (The Kidnapped Turnabout)

Mack Rell (Turnabout Reminiscence)

Deid Mann (Turnabout Reminiscence)

Shi-Long Lang (Turnabout Ablaze)

Ethan Rooke (Turnabout Target)

Di-Jun Huang (The Grand Turnabout

John Wilson (The Adventure of the Great Departure)

Pop Windibank (The Adventure of the Unspeakable Story)

Herlock Sholmes (The Adventure of the Unspeakable Story)

Tobias Gregson (Twisted Karma and His Last Bow)

Genshin Asogi (The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo)

BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA: 15

Cindy Stone (The First Turnabout)

Mia Fey (Turnabout Sisters)

Phoenix Wright (The Lost Turnabout)

Russel Berry (Turnabout Big Top)

Kane Bullard (The Stolen Turnabout)

Zak Gramarye (Turnabout Trump)

Paht Rohl (The Foreign Turnabout)

Archie Buff (Turnabout Revolution)

Dumas Gloomsbury (Turnabout Time Traveler)

Miles Edgeworth (The Kidnapped Turnabout)

Ka-Shi Nou (Turnabout Ablaze)

Isaac Dover (The Inherited Turnabout)

Jill Crane (The Forgotten Turnabout)

Jack Cameron (The Grand Turnabout)

Kazuma Asogi (The Adventure of the Speckled Band)

Olivia Aldente (The English Turnabout, PLVPW)

FIRE: 6

Robbs (PLVPW)

Muggs (PLVPW)

Kira (PLVPW)

Maya Fey (PLVPW)

Arthur Cantabella (PLVPW)

Jove Justice (Turnabout Revolution)

POISON: 5

Glen Elg (Recipe for Turnabout)

Diego Armando (Turnabout Beginnings?)

Drew Misham (Turnabout Succession)

William Shamspeare (The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro)

Newton Belduke (PLVPW)

FALLING: 3

Dustin Prince (The Lost Turnabout)

Akbey Hicks (Turnabout Airlines)

Jack Shipley (Turnabout Reclaimed)

ELECTROCUTION: 3

Maya Fey (Turnabout Goodbyes)

Phoenix Wright (Turnabout Goodbyes)

Doug Swallow (Turnabout Memories)

CAR ACCIDENT: 3

Selina Sprocket (Turnabout Time Traveler)

Sorin Sprocket (Turnabout Time Traveler)

Carmine Accidenti (PLVPW)

SUFFOCATION: 2

Juan Corrida (Farewell, My Turnabout)

Taifu Toneido (Turnabout Storyteller)

EXPLOSION: 2

Candice Arme (Turnabout Countdown)

Apollo Justice (Turnabout Countdown)

CRUSHED: 1

Di-Jun Huang’s Body Double (The Grand Turnabout)

TRANSFORMATION: 1

Hershel Layton (PLVPW)

OTHER NOTES:

I honestly thought blunt force trauma would be the highest when I first listed these. I was wrong!

I know (MAJOR PLVPW SPOILERS) that no one in PLVPW actually died except Newton Belduke, but I still felt as though it was prudent to list them here as victims.

Tasing is a form of electrocution.

Technically, falling and getting crushed could both be forms of blunt force trauma, but “blunt force trauma” is more “something hits you” than “you hit something” imo? I think it’s a distinction worth making.

There are a lot fewer poisonings than I thought. I didn’t know whether to put Diego’s poisoning under Memories or Beginnings, so I put both.

Simon Keyes was pretty inventive tbh

English Turnabout is the only case in PLVPW with a proper name. I generally ID the chapters with court segments as the ones that are the “case names”, which works for every case but the last.

I might have missed some? I know for sure I missed the original Di-Jun Huang, but I couldn’t find his cause of death poking around the wiki. Let me know if I missed any more!

[inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800]

I. RON (286 AC)

Note: English isn´t my first language, so sorry for the probably mistakes here.

She has lived in King´s Landing since she was born. Was a pleasant celebration, remembered the affectionate hugs of her red-haired mother like her, the pride of her lord father Arryn and the affectionate launch from the king Robert where she reached half a meter and picked her up through laughter, him seemed happier than ever.

Ronella Arryn, or as her family affectionately called her, Ron. She initially grew up between tales of ladies and knights, romantic love or happy endings every time her mother Tully told her before going to sleep, but Ronella presage darkness, light as mist, gray that haunted the Red Keep. And she was right. She had heard at the hands of maesters, from books, minstrels and the mouth of her own father about Robert´s rebellion, the king that he raised since he was a child. Those were dark times, the Mad King ordered children to be killed by tearing them from their mothers' arms, women who begged for mercy, of crying, of hunger, of cold, of madness.

There was an affront with the Starks, they imprisoned the heir, and then killed him and his father, his brother Eddard called the banners and the war began.

Now only she had heard that there was only one dragon child left, with long silver hair and monstrosity in his eyes. He scared her so much, so much that in her dreams he crossed the Narrow Sea and appeared in the palace, and killed everyone. She saw her father being burned alive and screamed to defend him until she suffocated to death. She would wake up all sweaty and with blue eyes so watery she seemed to be of the Tully hue. When Ron narrated about it to her family, her mother got very angry and forbade any story from that time not to scare her, she said they were not tales for maidens. Ron felt great calm when she heard they were moving.

Unfortunately, she was overjoyed.

That was before their mother Lysa left, with her little heir brother Eddard and the newborn Alyssa, who showed she had inherited the reddish hair. Ron had heard from maids there were loud shouting from her mother and several arguments among her parents, and that finally, his lord father had won. With tears in her already watery eyes, her mother said goodbye, hugged her for a long hug that Ron would have wanted to last a day, told her not to trust anyone, not even her father Jon. That confused her. Why had she said that?

There were moments when her mother would have lost her words and say incoherent things or her expressions would change in a second when strange men approached them. Ron thought it was one of those cases, but she would obey her anyway, except for distrusting his lord father.

Her father promised her that he would visit his wife any at available time that could, nevertheless, Ron hesitated a bit, she sensed lies in the words of her parent and that were wrong, because the Arryn are honest. But she didn't want to question his father just yet. Her mother went by boat, saying she felt more comfortable there because she had spent her life surrounded by water in Riverrun, where she promised to introduce her to her brother Edmure and his strong and respectable grandfather Hoster Tully. She climbed up gallantly as a lady should be, her Lady mother settled her small children between her body and blew kisses into the air. Ron felt embarrassed but touched by the gesture, the ship sailed away as the tide flooded the smell of salt all over the place. Her lord father Jon and she were in the front row, along with guards loyal to the Arryn and the unusual company of the royal family.

“What luck, Jon. You got rid of your wife and the little ones.”

She quickly noticed Queen Cersei Lannister's sneer at those words.

“Don´t said that, Robert. Respect my family.”

Jon Arryn was the only one who could speak to the king like that, because he had raised him as if he were his son. The king nodded with a giggle and walked away with all his entourage, after spending an hour there with them, Ron expected nothing less, if something happened to the king, she would wait faithfully with her father. Only her father and she were left, a few meters away were her father's men.

While she watched the sea darken and brighten, Ron was lost in her maidenly thoughts, but she knew one thing for sure, that honor was fading and that her father felt it too.

“I am afraid, my father”

She took a quick look around.

“Of what, little one?” his father's senile voice sounded hoarse, Ron imagined him as a young man and that, at that time, his voice would be as loud as a roar.

“Of the lions, of all of them.”

He looked at her with concern, as if he could understand her. Quickly with a slight gesture they were surrounded by men loyal to the Valley as they made their way to his quarter as the king's hand.

They avoided the servants with precise answers. Ron eschewed a strolling outing with Prince Joffrey, her betrothed, she was sure his face would turn beet as her turned her back on him to go on her way. Jon Arryn politely greeted the queen who looked worried and upset next to Stannis Baratheon, the king's older brother, they both continued walking among the beautiful and highly decorated floors of the palace, it had a gold finish, but Ron felt it was a cage anyway. 

Finally, her father Jon closed the door with a soft sound of the doorknob and placed a rectangular stone between the hole in between the door and the floor.

“Tell me about your fears, no one will hear us here.”

Ron blurted it all out, to the point where she felt like she had stopped being a lady and had become a little girl.

“From Prince Joffrey, he insults me and questions my ancestry, says I am a bastard without a shred of honor, that you are not my true father and therefore I should be in Flea Bottom.”

“That is not true. I held you in my own arms when you were born, no one stopped me. You have my clear blue eyes, my character and my ears. That's just lies from the young prince, a spoiled little boy, I advised Robert to discipline him, but he failed.”

Suddenly she felt ashamed, she was talking about her future king, her betrothed for as long as she could remember. Her lord father had signed her entail to King Robert himself since she was still a baby.

But the red burst had only begun.

"The queen!" she exclaimed angrily, as if spreading a wave of fury. "She looks down on me, criticizes my dresses, saying they should be finer, silk, with bright colors, and my gait, my frank way of speaking, it's as if she doesn't consider me a future Baratheon. And then there's the Kingslayer, I'm afraid to pass him in the corridors. What if he stabs me in the back?"

Her lord father Jon's face went from puzzled, to angry and a brief smirk at the last sentence. Ron feared that he would not take her seriously, that she would tell him it was girlish whining.

"The Lannisters are not to be trusted. Neither is the prince...nor the king."

Surprise came over her face, she thought her father saw Robert as his favorite son. He had his favorite falcon given to him by King Robert with pride and adoration. She did not understand anything.

"If they are lions, we are mere birds, I will not be able to fight them" she heard herself say in a low voice, saying it so softly that she was sure no one heard her.

Her lord father seemed to understand her thoughts and slashed at her.

"I haven't told you, my child, however, they are all snakes here, do you understand? They lie and hide under the table, under wherever. You and I, on the other hand, are hawks. What do hawks do? They hunt snakes and when they can't catch them, they keep them at bay. When you're older, you'll understand."

He stood up complaining about the pain in his back while Ron was still processing the words.

"Come on, dear, we have a snake dinner to keep."

Confident and a little comforted, she took her father's hand and left the room.

Now everything seemed to fall into place a little better. They ate alongside the royal family; Robert said hilarious things over wine and playfully kept Jon from taking the cup from him, as if he was a child. The queen didn't seem to mind and fixed her gaze on the initially uncomfortable Ronella, who faced her with a smile and a raised brow, talking with her about dresses and her future. Prince Joffrey otherwise, fiddled with the food bored. On the other hand, his uncle Stannis looked disapprovingly at the king's actions, his face was always serious and Ron admitted she was a little afraid of him.

When the queen moved on to speak to her son, Ron addressed him in an act of politeness.

"My lord Stannis, how goes the work of navigation? My mother set sail today, and I hope the currents are favorable on her voyage.

Stannis seemed surprised to be spoken to. It was no secret that the nobles were as quick to avoid him as if he had the grey plague, even his own blood seemed oblivious to it.

"Moderately auspicious to depart on a ship. The profits have been generous this past year and I am firmly confident that the crown will soon be able to settle its debt"

"What debt?"

Queen Cersei fixed her eyes on them, and Ron realized she was still surrounded by lions.

"Our dear king's," she said sarcastically, as she eyed her husband and put down her forks.

They both fell silent, again uncomfortable in front of Cersei Lannister.

The lioness was winning, but Ron was undeterred. In a warm voice she asked her if Joffrey would have a brother or sister in the future.

Cersei Lannister pursed her lips in disgust at such a question.

"With my dear Joffrey is enough."

"I don't think so. He needs alliances, a war has passed, my lady" her words echoed her father's voice.

Joffrey turned away, that talk had really caught his attention.

"I do not want siblings. I will be an only child; I am legitimate to the throne."

"More children? "laughed King Robert. "I'm not against the idea, Ned has had a respectable son, named after me, and his lady Tully is pregnant again.

"Think again, my love," Cersei Lannister's sugary voice made her nauseous, she could tell how her personality changed from one moment to the next when the king listened to what the Arryns were saying.

She felt a point of power in her favor.

"Rather, brother, how are you doing with the little ones? "The tone was mocking, Lord Stannis did not get along with his wife who was at Dragonstone and they only saw each other once or twice a year.

"Well, my king," Lord Stannis had a more bitter face than usual, he also wanted an heir.

"What do you mean, well? That face of yours says more than a thousand words, you can have whores, a bastard son is all the same as long as he is legalized."

Stannis Baratheon rose from the table, angrily, excused himself to leave and stormed away.

Ron felt she had spoiled everything.

"My king," spoke his father, who had been silent until now, "your brother lacks the time and attention to obtain a son. The best thing to do is not to pressure him."

"Bah, he's been pressuring me since he was born. What a thing he was, always refusing to play and reading all the time, I don't doubt his wife doesn't like him. He deserves it."

As the dishes were cleared away after that conversation, Ron stared into his fiancé's green eyes. He was a year younger than her, but more alert and astute, a total snake.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"Because I'll be your future wife," she replied bitingly.

The king clapped his father Jon on the shoulder.

"You sound like a true queen. My mother always commanded my lord father, and it always worked out well."

"It's a pity they won't join us now" Cersei laughed mockingly and grimly.

King Robert's jaw tightened, he would not tolerate any badmouthing of his parents, whom he held in high esteem.

"One more word from you, and I'll send you to Casterly Rock, you'll be of more use there."

"I'd love to."

But Ron could tell by the body language that she was lying. With those words, everyone got up to leave. The king in front with Cersei Lannister, her father Jon near the king, but away from Joffrey and her.

"Hey, brat."

She raised her bright blue eyes to him.

He had silky blond hair like a river of sunshine, full red lips, and his hand was raised toward her, as if he were asking her to dance, at least he had the basic courtesy of his age.

"Don't call me that," she answered bravely. Her lord father said that Arryns should be respected and treat others as they wanted to be treated. "I am your future consort."

The prince pursed his lips in great annoyance, his cheeks flushed like two tomatoes from anger, he made a sudden movement as if he wanted to slap her.

"I will call you what I want, do you understand? I will be your king."

"And I will serve you as your wife, but not as a doll," she congratulated herself inside, her father must be very proud of her.

Suddenly, Joffrey gave her a push. Not very hard, however, she stepped back.

Ron looked at him indignantly.

"Why are you doing that? You have to respect me."

"You're nothing but a burden to my house. You know, I can make you go to the mountains where your family lives."

"If it suits your lord father.

Green lightning flashed through her. Prince Joffrey exhaled in anger, tugged at her with all his might, but Ron resisted as long as she could. A lady should not be treated like that, let alone fall or stumble as his mother Tully had told her.

"Let go of me," she didn't yell at him, but it wasn't long before it was like that.  Her dress was getting dirty with the dust on the floor and she felt the heat of the red fortress strongly. The warmth of King's Landing seemed to her like a personal mockery.

"You're not so brave now, are you? "His voice sounded tired from the pulling. She could feel the sweat on his blond forehead.

"I still am. So I ask you politely to stop taking me against my will or I'll complain about your behavior," she repeated the speech her father used to make.

"Who do you think you are?

"Your future queen, haven't you understood yet? Ron tightened his grip causing Prince Joffrey to feel pain as well.

"You...will...not...be...my...wife! " his fiancé's agitation had dented his words.

Ron glared at him as his father did when he heard nonsenses.

"That's not possible."

And with a slap she had seen her uncle Bryden do, she pushed him away from her. She adjusted her dress, lifted her chin as a lady should, nudged him and gave him the coldest look she could remember, like her mother's when she found out they were leaving without her.

"If the subject bothers you, take it up with your lord father," Ron secretly wished it would and she would change her fiancé to a nicer one.

She turned and walked straight ahead with the grace of a princess.  She had turned her fourth onomastic a few months ago, but she felt as big as a queen. Like the good qualities Queen Cersei must have had; firm, strong, loyal to her subjects and humble to the low people. She lifted her chest with pride, that's how she should be: bringing peace to the seven kingdoms and ruling justly.

@arryns

@ashighashonor

@housetargeryens

@fanficgot

@a-libra-writes

@alanybunnuewrites

@houseofthrones7

@letsasoiaftogether

@lovelykhaleesiii

@megsironthrone

@sansasurvived

@theladyalicent

@tinfairies

@writingsofwesteros

@witchthewriter

[detectiveinchicago]

SPARKS FLY: Chapter 4

Chapters list here

Note: Hi guys! Thank u for all the comments and reviews, you are amazing. I promise that Kenny is coming  on the next chapter. If you want to be tag in this story please let me know. Please let me know what you think of Laura as Caitlyn. English is not my first language. Enjoy xxx. DISCLAIMER: GIF IS NOT MINE.

LAURA JAMES AS CAITLYN HALSTEAD

“What a beautiful way to start my day,” Caitlyn said sarcastically to O.A when they were walking to the crime scene and she saw her brother and his peers standing in there.

“I thought you were in the city for one case only,” Jay said when he saw her.

“The Director is worried about the increase of violent crimes in the city, we will take the case,” Caitlyn said.

“We got here first, it’s our case,” Her brother answered

“What are you? Five? It’s a title 18: Federal land, federal crime,” She said crossing her arms around her chest “You can observe and advice but it’s our case now”

“I will appreciate it if you can bring us up to speed,” O.A said looking at Kim and rolling his eyes to the Halstead siblings.

“Amelia Roberts, 25, five stubs in the chest, she was an exotic dancer who worked down the block in Clubhouse, she was killed last night around 2 AM, a runner found her body early this morning, she has signs of rape, sexual assault and as you can see it was a nasty fight. It looks like she was killed in another location and dropped out here”

“She is brunette,” Caitlyn said putting on the gloves and bending down to touch the girl’s eyes “and she has blue eyes” She added giving O.A a look

“That should stand up because…?” Kim said, raising her eyebrows.

“Did you find any cameras? Any witnesses?” O.A asked, looking at Kim.

“So far nothing, the guy was smart, he avoided cameras, and no one has seen him, we are still looking for witnesses”

“Then we have nothing” Caitlyn concluded and Kim shrugged before approaching her sergeant “What are we missing O.A?” Caitlyn asked her partner

“I don’t know, I mean he doesn’t have a clear patron, he should have cut her fingerprints off,” O.A said looking at the body.

“Or her fingers broken,” Caitlyn added

“Is this a serial killer or one case?” O.A asked

“I mean they are all brunette, short hair with blue eyes and they are all violent crimes, different types of violence but that’s enough for a patron”

“Then we have ten women killed by the same man and we have no of who committed them”

“I can try with the band from the club again”

“You know that your cover was most likely blown up the other night”

“Perhaps we can try it, if it’s too dangerous then I walk away and you will have my back,” Caitlyn said winking her eye to O.A

O.A rolled his eyes, “I will let Isobel know”

“Then I will talk to them I guess,” Caitlyn said pointing with her head to Voight walking to her

“Good luck,” O.A said with a brief smile

“Oh, shut up” Caitlyn answered giving him a death look “Sargent”

“Agent,” Voight said with a nod of his head “We appreciate the help but we will take this case”

“As I was saying earlier, we are on a federal territory so it’s our case,” Caitlyn said looking at him.

“It’s my city” Voight replied.

“It’s my city too sergeant, I don’t know if Jay told but we grew up in Canaryville,” Caitlyn replied without taking her eyes off Voight.

“We will take this case,” Voight said.

“It’s our case now and I would appreciate it if you can stay out of it, I mean that sergeant” Caitlyn answered before turning around and walking to her car.

“Are you trying to humiliate me?” Jay asked going behind her.

“In case you haven’t notice, I don’t care about your work, or your cases or anything you do” Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

“What have I done to you that made you so evil?”

“You left after mom’s funeral, you saw how terrible Dad was and still didn’t even care about it and you left me alone with him to deal with it”

“He was falling apart, Caitlyn”

“I’m tired of you two idolizing Dad, he doesn’t deserve this, he was such an awful father and such a terrible person to me”

“He was sad Caitlyn, we all were. He didn’t pick you up after you broke a leg in a practice and that has made you upset at him all this time? Yes, that sucks, but it’s not such an enormous deal. Will made all this huge as always, he is used to see things where there are none.”

“Are you justifying him for everything he did?” Caitlyn asked

“No, but stop making all this about yourself and start thinking about how Dad was feeling too, he had lost the love of his life”

“I’m sorry, now you defend him only because he was keeping a stupid newspaper piece of you?” Jay looked at her without understanding “Yeah, Will told me about it,” she responded “That justifies everything that had happened? Only because he apparently loved you and he wasn’t able to share that with you? Hard love isn’t love, is just hurting Jay,” Caitlyn said getting into her car.

“You are always prejudging people Jay; you need to stop doing that,” Hailey said, approaching his partner.

“She is the one who attacked me first,” Jay said raising his eyebrows.

“Why instead of attacking her back, you start by asking? It might help,” His partner answered “Let’s go, Voight wants to meet us”

 “Isobel gave her approval to the operation, they are assisting us tonight and Kristen is checking the vigilance video,” O.A informed Caitlyn “I can see the family reconnecting,” He said with sarcasm to his partner

“That he went back to the army didn’t matter O.A,” Caitlyn said as she started the car “But the fact that he left me alone with dad after mom’s funeral because he wanted to get away from that house it pissed me off”

“Family can be complicated,” O.A said.

“Yeah, I know” Caitlyn answered.

Caitlyn got into her house. They were waiting for the forensic to finish the autopsy and they will check what they had so far for tonight’s meeting, wasn’t too much. They had no suspect, and no leads so far. Since they came to Chicago, O.A and Caitlyn had been trying to find how all the rapes where connected, Robbs and Homicides was the most occupied unit of Chicago so they were happy to leave them some of their cases.

It all started with five death girls, all them with their fingers prints cut off, brunettes with blue eyes and short hair but after that, the patron mutated, some of them had broken fingers or broken wrists, some of them were killed by suffocation while others like Amelia were stabbed to death. O.A and Caitlyn believed that the guy was not only enjoying all his paths, but that he was playing with them by changing his ways of raping and killing. She was sick of this guy; it had been almost five months, and he seems to be perfect, not a single mistake was giving.

Caitlyn turned on her laptop. Today was Jess’s birthday, and she told him that morning that she would call him later. Jess LaCroix was Angelyne’s husband, she was her team partner in the army. After she died on a raid, Caitlyn joined the FBI and Jess’s team. She spent most of her Christmas and New Year in Jess’s house after she left Chicago. When Tali was born, Caitlyn was there; when Angelyne died, Caitlyn was there. Maybe it was the fact that Pat was a terrible father and Jess’s father was awful too, but she was tight to him.  

“Happy birthday, old man,” Caitlyn said when he saw Jess on the screen.

“I’m not old but thanks” Jess answered, rolling his eyes.

“When are you retiring then?” she asked.

“Shut up” Jesse denied with her head.

“How is everyone over there?”

“Well Tali is at school, Marilou and Nelson went out to the supermarket and Clinton is trying to catch up the team, we are leaving in a while,” Jess said looking behind him for Clinton.

“Bad guys never stop,” Caitlyn said with a brief smile.

“How was your time back in Chicago so far?” Jess asked.

“As best as It could be” Caitlyn shrugged her shoulders.

Jess raised his eyebrows, “How is that?”

“Oh well, every time Jay and I are in the same room we fight to each other,” Caitlyn said.

“Have you tried to call him?” Jess asked, frowning.

“No, he didn’t even bother to call me after we met the first time,” Caitlyn excused herself

 “Then why are you demanding him to call you? You are acting like a kid,” Jess said.

“I don’t know; I guess I’m begging love. Not so lucky in that area you know,” Caitlyn said raising her eyebrow.

Jesse rolled his eyes, “Talk to him”.

“Coming back, meeting my brothers... It’s a lot to process and to deal with” She said running her hand over her face.

“It woke up some memories of your father?” Jesse asked knowing how she might be felling.

“Yeah, it’s hard to deal with that” Caitlyn sighed, scratching her head.

“You should give those memories a closure, Caitlyn,” Jess recommended her “Otherwise his memory will keep coming back and torture you”

“He is dead, that’s enough closure to me” Caitlyn responded, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you still doing those meditation exercises that I teach you?” Jess asked looking at her.

“When I’m about to lose control, I do them,” Caitlyn nodded.

“Panic attacks aren’t easy, Caitlyn,” Jess comforted her.

“How is Kenny?” she asked suddenly. She was feeling uncomfortable, but she knew they had to address the elephant in the room at some point. 

Jess sighed “He is better now, trying to move on”

“He should start seeing other people and move on” Caitlyn added.

“Did you move on?” Jesse raised his eyebrows and waited for her answer.

“Yeah, I’m pretty much fine,” Caitlyn said in a sharp voice “But my problem is this case I’m dealing with,” she added changing the subject.

“You should start looking outside the box” Jesse suggested hearing Clinton voice in the background “I got to go”

“What did you say?” Caitlyn said

 “That you should start thinking outside the box, stop looking for the obvious patron” Jesse repeated.

“I need to check on something,” Caitlyn said as a goodbye “Good luck on your searching” she finished turning the call off.

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@lovecatystuff @bethii1 @give-jack-a-lightsaber @lovingfanofupstead @thevelvetseries @proceduralpassion @chicagogirl2019 @cpdfan231 @bxrgesses @sadsot @onechicago-upsteadrhekker @anna4-7kendrick @anotheronechicagobog @halstudandruz @captainbucky-yt @itsdesiree86 @hereforthedale @cactiem @agntrostova @nhcwdw

[pennys-th0ughts]

Loser... 🥀

A long sigh came out of my mouth like some kind of relieving sensation that had been trapped deep inside my chest for so long, but I didn’t feel any relief, only frustration. I picked up the three balls lying on the floor, gathered the rest of my stuff inside my duffel bag and got out of the big tent hearing the mocking laughter at my back. “You will never be good enough as a clown” someone said, “¡your parents must be ashamed of you!”, “¡Go back to the stinky hole you came out of!” and the insults kept on coming until I finally got out.

I looked around searching for a quiet place to put myself together. Once I spotted it I headed there and sat down on the edge of an empty wagon belonging to the circus I just finished performing one of my complex acts just to be rejected, as had happened in the previous one. It was my fifth try and I still had no luck finding a circus that wanted to hire me. The owners kept telling me that I was too old to be a clown and they wouldn’t take the risk of hiring someone of my age or they would just say I lacked experience. So many lame excuses…

The day had been long and tiring and the heat was overwhelming. The summer season was at its highest peak and some days the temperatures were barely tolerable. The key to survive such weary time of the year was to remain away from the sun and stay hydrated, and one of those things was becoming the hardest to get.

A couple or guards began to look at me in a uncomfortable way so I left that place and ended up catching my breath sitting under a tree. I was enjoying its cool shadows when a thin hand landed on my left shoulder. I sighed and didn’t dare to find out which body that small and delicate hand belonged to but since it seemed not to belong to one of the guards, I finally raised my eyes trying to avoid the rays of the sun. The other hand offered me some fresh water and also an apple.

Moved by such kind gesture I saw myself forced to stand up and thank to whoever was being benevolent enough to offer me such things, but both hands didn’t allow me to, instead, this mysterious person knelt by my side.

– You must be tired – the smooth and calm voice said-. Please, don’t bother yourself in standing up. ¿May I?

The young lady pointed an empty space next to me, I nodded and moved a bit to make some more space so she could take a sit and shelter herself from the sun. We spent some minutes in silence whilst I took some sips of the fresh liquid and later bit the sweet fruit. In the meantime, I could sense her staring at me as if was some kind of peculiar creature, like the most the circus would hid behind its red curtains. I devoured the apple in a couple of bites and then I realized how embarrassing that must have looked like. She just chuckled.

– I must apologize – I used the back of my sleeve to clean up my chin-. I was starving, to be honest…

She raised both hands to let me know it was okay and laughed amused. The innocence of her waysput a smile on my face instantly. Her smile was as bright and warm as the sun and her manners were as fine as the ones of a princess. We stayed under the shadows talking and laughing about so many mundane things until the sunset gave its lasts breaths and the purple blueish tones began to paint the night sky. The laughter she ripped off from my lips was so plenty that my eyes watered many times washing part of my make-up.

The little lightbulbs surrounding the big tent began to light one by one bringing some light to the vast territory the circus occupied. The people belonging to it started to walk to their tents to get some rest from another long hot day. I realized that that painful moment to say goodbye had come and I would need to leave before the owner of the circus could tell I was spending my time with his daughter. The less I wanted was to get her into trouble so I stood up and got ready to leave but she grabbed my hand and almost dragged me towards her tent in some kind of stealth mode. We successfully avoided a couple of guards, a handful of jugglers and some lion tamers who were taking those exotic animals back to their cages. The excitement of hiding from the circus owner in his daughter tent was the most thrilling experience I had in many years since the last one when I was around ten years old which consisted in the fruit stealing from the neighbor’s tree.

That night my heart was beating exactly in the same erratic and fast way it did that day but there was something different now and the company made it a lot more interesting.

– You have never told me your name… – I point that out in a very curious tone of voice.

– ¡Oh, you are right! – She said looking notoriously embarrassed-. My name is Elizabeth but everyone here calls me Liz.

– Delighted to meet you, Liz – I kissed her knuckles and introduced myself as well-. I'm Robert Gray but you can call me Bob.

The mystery was solved and I was even more interested about discover more about this girl so I began to cherish every minute of our conversations. I took a last peek outside the tent to make sure nobody had seen us and once I felt reassured I turned around with a confident smile on my face. Liz poured some water in a metallic bowl and wet a piece of cloth.

– Have a sit – she invited me-. I will help you remove the make-up.

– That’s really not necessary, Liz… – I tried to avoid her selflessness help but it was in vain.

– Don’t be so modest, Bob – she insisted-. Besides, if you keep wearing it, it might spoil your skin.

I sat on the little bench and she placed the bowl on a table almost of the same size next to me, and carefully, she began removing the paint of my face. When she finally finished she stared at me for some long minutes as if she was admiring the very uncommon features of my face. She brushed my ginger hair backwards and fixed her blue eyes with mine. Then a painful memory came to my mind when the soft tip of her index finger followed the irregular line of one of my scars. Instinctively my hand grabbed her wrist by impulse but without any intentions to hurt her. When I realized what I just did it was a bit too late.

– I'm afraid to ask but – she hesitated- ¿how you did get these?

I lowered my eyes until I had the dusty floor in front of me; I took a deep breath and told Liz the story about those peculiar scars. In the meantime people outside their tents were getting ready for the typical midnight feast in which many of them would eat and drink until early hours of the morning and probably sleep big part of the day to get rid of the hangover. Those would be precious hours to share with Liz and I was looking forward to prolong our talk. She made me feel like I was at home and for some reason the need of being with her was becoming imperative. Liz didn’t care about my aspect without the make-up and her interest in me since the beginning was touching. She gently caressed my forehead and the scar that made its way over my eyebrow and ended up in my cheek. She made me close my eyes and, out of the blue, she sat down on my lap. A little smirk curved my lips whilst Liz kept stroking my hair backwards making the experience even more intense with the perfume her skin was letting go. The scent was delicate and yet it was all over the place as if the aroma was coming from a bucket of just trimmed flowers. Then I felt them. At first the feeling was suffocating but warm, soft and finally passionate. Elizabeth had the tastier lips I could have ever kissed and her possessive way of seducing me was delicious.

– Liz – I made my best to talk her out of it, that what she was trying to get wouldn’t probably end well- if your father catches us red handed he will definitely throw me inside the lion’scage.

– He won’t – she shut me up placing her finger on my lips-. He would have gotten drunk enough by the time we have left.

I blinked several times, uncredulous but mostly dumbfounded. Leaving the circus with the owner’s daughter was definitely a very bad idea that would mean a certain death for me and a severe punishment for her. I shook my head in denial; I had to do something about it and fast.

– I will be forever doomed to steal you from your father’s hands and I will happily live with it but ¿can we reconsider the possibility that your father will haunt us just to make our lives miserable?

Liz remained some minutes in silence probably having second thoughts about my words. I knew what she wanted from the moment she suggested to leave the circus, but leaving in that way will only cost us more than we could bear, so we carefully thought and planned our escaping way starting that very night. We still had a few hours ahead so we would take our time to do whatever we wanted to do.

Her hands were soft as cotton as all the skin wrapping her little but harmonious body whilst the curves of her breasts and waist were almost perfectly shaped like the silhouette of a glass cup. She was out of her usual vestments and the light of the fire was bathing her smooth skin in red and gold tones. As the flames were dancing making the whole room dance at their compass, Liz started her own choreography taking off in each turn a piece of clothing. The lines of her back seemed to resemble the dunes of a vast dessert whilst her long black hair, shinny and silky, was like the oriental night sky. She took possession of my mouth again but this time I could feel she was more than certain of she was doing so I let her go over me without any restrictions. It had been long time since the last time I was with a woman and Liz was beyond attractive to deny her charms.

The night went by wonderfully like some kind of mixture between a romantic novel and an adventure tale. After making love for almost two wild hours we decided to soothe our appetite, for food this time, so we ate richly and drink a delicious sweet wine, as for dessert we tasted some fresh fruits and a strange pudding with a filling I have never ate before. Once our bodies were satisfied in many ways, we fall asleep. Liz wrapped her thin arm around my chest and hid her face in the hollow of my neck. To feel the peacefulness of her breathing tickling my skin was all I needed to dive into an intoxicating sleep.

Rooster’s badly tuned song woke me up from a very pleasant dream just in time to avoid prying eyes. I gently shook Liz’s shoulder to wake her up. She got dressed and helped me to put my make-up back only this time she painted my face in a very different but interesting way which I liked more. She made the lines that crossed my eyes vertically longer and connected them with the corners of my lips, so the new design ended up looking like a big “U” shaped smile starting in my forehead and finishing in my mouth. I borrowed some clothes from her wardrobe and put them on, maybe that would help me avoid the guards on my way out of her chambers.

Another day went by and Liz and I were keeping our love adventure out of the circus thus behind the curtains. I have never felt so excited before and the feeling itself was captivating. I was looking forward to see her every time the circus closed its doors and everyone went to sleep just to discover our naked bodies once more, swim in the lake or eat delicious evening meals at the candlelight. Tonight we had planned to leave and spend some hours at the quarries and enjoy the night and its sparkling stars.

– The moon light is so bright tonight – Liz pointed that out looking up the sky as if she was a little girl looking at some marvelous treasure.

I took her hand and guided her towards the shore of the lake. The temperature of the water was nice and it was an unspoken invitation to get into it. We looked at each other in complicity and ready to throw each other to the lake but we didn’t, we just took our shoes off and got our feet into it to avoid ending in a water fight. The songs of the crickets, the hoot of the owls and the wind whispering all around us was making of that brief moment something worthy to live for.

– Moon looks like a tiny firefly compared to you…

Careless words got out of my mouth like a bunch of wild horses and by the time I realized what I just said, it was too late. I shut my eyes tightly feeling my cheeks going beetroot in no time, but the night was allowing me to stay low key regarding my feelings. Liz accidentally put her hand on mine and I immediately hold on to it as if it was a life jacket to what she only gave me her most shy but tender smile.

– You turned to be a very sweet man, Bob – Liz hold my hand back-. And I really like you…

– Liz – I unintentionally interrupted her, fearing that her final words would probably be painful for me since I was sensing some kind of hesitation in her voice- I know we barely know each other from few days ago but I have really wanting to tell you something…

Her blue eyes began sparkling under the pale light of the moon and my heart started racing like a steaming machine out of control. I got my hand inside my pocket and took a little box out of it; I opened it trying really hard to keep my shaking hands at bay so she didn’t notice how nervous I was. Once the shiny red stone caught her attention I felt confident enough to say the big words.

– ¿Would you marry me, Liz?

Judging by how hard she was squeezing my hand I could tell she had been caught totally by surprise and her reaction gave me hope. She took the small object out of the box and looked at it full of excitement and perplexity and started nodding until she finally said yes. My heart was pounding inside my chest like a giant old bell, not leaving more space for any other feeling but joy. Her face was distorted because a big smile that kept making the moon to look even smaller. We sealed our union with a long kiss and agreed to leave next day at night. We both knew that Elizabeth’s father won’t allow us to leave and less knowing that her daughter was planning to run away with a loser.

I have never had more than five dollars in my pocket and a clear destination where to head to but this time, this time was so different, I was carrying something with more value I could ever imagine and I had, for the first time in a long time, a crystal clear idea where to go. For the first time in my life I was certain about my future and happy to meet the person I was going to share it with. I might still be a loser with nothing to lose or maybe I'm just a lover with everything to live for...

Image: credits to the owner

[silverscreenclassics2016]

by Paul Batters

“I only know that you have to judge people by what you find them to be and not by what other people say they are” – Madame von Eln (Maria Ouspenskaya) 

Every small town has its’ secrets and stories and Hollywood has found no shortfall in material in telling those stories nor directors wishing to tell them. Usually, Hollywood had depicted small towns as idyllic places, where values and morals to be admired where prevalent and family life created a world of stability and normality. This is certainly true in the Andy Hardy series, the then popular Henry Aldrich series and films such as Meet Me In St Louis (1944) and Our Town (1940), which was incidentally directed by Sam Wood. Capra’s films certainly celebrate the small American town, untainted by the complexities of the big city, as well as ‘the people’ characterised as being the ‘salt of the earth’.

Kings Row (1942) stands tall as a tale of an American Midwestern town at the turn of the 20th century, with all the A Grade production values that were a staple at Warner Bros. Directed by Sam Wood (A Night At The Opera, Goodbye Mr Chips, Pride Of The Yankees), Kings Rowis a powerful film, with outstanding performances from its’ principal players and a talented supporting cast. Whilst certainly not a forgotten film, Kings Row is often overshadowed by some of the other big releases from Warner Bros. around the same time such as Now Voyager (1942) and Casablanca (1943). It certainly deserves our attention, as it is one of Warner Bros. finest productions and despite the surface themes of romance, relationship, loss and tragedy, there are far deeper concerns that are addressed in the film. At its’ very core, Kings Rowis a story that reveals the uglier and darker undercurrent of the American Midwestern town, tearing down the façade of respectability, polite society and propriety to reveal hypocrisy, perversion, familial dysfunction and corruption.  This essay does not aim to avoid spoilers but to discuss these issues and examine their purveyance in the film. (So readers be warned!)

From the opening scene, punctuated by Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s excellent score, perhaps one of the finest ever written for the silver screen, the focus is on the town. The audience’s focus is drawn to a sign which declares Kings Row is a ‘good town’, one which is a ‘good town to live in and a good place to raise your children’.  The camera moves across tree-lined streets and picket fences before being drawn to the characters. But the inference is quite clear, as Wheeler Winston Dixon points out, that the film intends to be ‘a stinging indictment of American society…and a dystopian vision of the dark underside of Midwestern small- town life’.  

As the audience is going to discover, to go against the small-minded and morally suffocating rules and expectations of society means a heavy price must be paid.

The story has a two-fold focus in terms of the protagonists; specifically the close friendship of Parris (Robert Cummings) and Drake (Ronald Reagan), though it is Parris  with whom the audience connects with first and foremost.  Parris and Drake share a friendship since they were children and though different in demeanour, they are similar in their strength if character.

Parris is a young and gifted student being raised by his grandmother Madame von Eln (Maria Ouspenskaya) whose values and beliefs she has bestowed upon Parris, as well as her love and kind nature. Unbeknownst to Parris, his grandmother falls ill with cancer but she covers it up, not wanting to cause worry for her grandson. Parris, too, is a kind, thoughtful and passionate young man who begins studying medicine with the brilliant yet reclusive Dr. Alexander Tower (Claude Rains). His childhood friendship with the doctor’s daughter Cassie (Betty Field) will eventually develop into love and they pursue their passions despite the doctor’s warnings and Cassie’s growing anxiety. The two will consummate their love, although naturally this is only suggested in the film but the results will have dire consequences for Cassie.

However, these ‘star-crossed lovers’ are doomed to a greater tragedy than Parris’ initial concerns for Cassie could anticipate. Cassie fears that she is going mad, as her mother did, and it appears that her insanity is not entirely an unfounded fear. As the audience discovers later in the film, Dr. Tower also suspects that Cassie has gone mad.  What follows is a shocking turn in the tale (which incredibly survived the Breen Office), is the murder-suicide that occurs in the Tower household. Cassie is killed and Dr Tower then turns his murderous hand on himself.

Parris is horrified and wracked with guilt that he earlier dismissed Cassie when she declared her fears to him. He also discovers that the authorities want to speak to him but before he races to the Tower house, Drake stops him and goes instead, claiming he had been seeing Cassie. Drake sacrifices his own reputation in the presence of Dr. Gordon (Charles Coburn) the father of Louise (Nancy Coleman) the girl he has been ‘seen’ with. Yet his faux declaration turns out to be unnecessary as Parris discovers that he is the recipient of something he never expected. Nevertheless, it adds further condemnation of Drake’s moral character (or lack thereof) in the eyes of Dr. Gordon.

Parris will face greater challenges, with the death of his grandmother who, along with the tragedy of the Towers, spurs him to leave the town and seek something greater. Yet Drake also senses that Parris needs to leave and, sharing the deeper sentiments of Dr Tower, does not want to see his friend stay in Kings Row to become a mediocrity, with his potential drowned by the town’s darkness. Parris does leave for Vienna where he will pursue his career in medicine but specifically the new field of psychology.

Drake, will remain in the town and face his own challenges, not the least of losing his family fortune to an unscrupulous banker. Yet it does result in finding something stable and lasting in Randy (Ann Sheridan). The no-nonsense and tough Irish girl comes from the other side of the tracks and her hard-working family accepts Drake without judgment, indicating that the ‘poorer’ part of town has rejected the hypocrisy and double standards of ‘respected society’. 

Kings Row spans a period of approximately 20 years, from the childhood of the principal characters into their adulthood. Of course, the tale being told is not only that of the people in the town but of the town itself. The divisions that exist in Kings Row are marked not only in the town’s psyche and fabric but by the very physical differences, classically signified by the train tracks. Drake’s ultimate slide from society is marked not only by his financial fall but also primarily by his moving over the train tracks to be with Randy. Ironically, his ‘punishment’ for doing so, is the horrific accident (and unnecessary operation that follows), which will give Ronald Regan his most famous scene in film history and a heck of a line of dialogue.

When Parris does return home, the expectation from the town is that he will set up a practice in Kings Row but Parris is not so sure. However, he will discover something that may keep him there and may give him the peace and stability that has eluded him.

His reunion with Drake is bittersweet and the love that they share is certainly undiminished by time apart. Yet Drake’s problems runs deeper than his physical trauma and Randy is hopeful that Parris’ return may help. The momentous climax is powerful and emotional, not only placing the cherry on top of Reagan’s performance but also reaching a finality for the key characters in conquering their own obstacles and defeating the very forces of the town, which had sought to crush their individuality.

Stylistically, Kings Row is a dark melodrama, with Gothic undertones and is beautifully shot by legendary cameraman James Wong Howe, whose perceptive eye finds the inner emotions of the characters, as well as the nature of the town. The wide-eyed panic in Cassie is disturbing and her anxiety and terror reflects an undertow of repression in the town. Terrified of her own thought processes, Cassie tries to reject Parris but her love for him initially prevails only to be de-railed by her own dread and the final act of horror that will befall her. The camera focuses on her face, illuminated in the moonlight like a phantom and the accompanying score not only enhances the tragedy of Cassie’s mental state but also foreshadows the final moment of madness to come. Later, Louise will also face mental illness and instability, also impacted on by a cruel and domineering father. Again, the repressive climate of the town, which discourages individuality and demands subservience to what is considered ‘decent society’, has meant terrible repercussions.  Insanity is a long-running convention of the Gothic genre and in Kings Row it seems to be way too prevalent. But more pointedly, the town of King’s Row seems almost totalitarian in its’ societal laws and expectations. Patriarchy may be the most obvious reason for the power system in place but men also fall prey to the claustrophobia of the town’s façade of propriety; Drake pays a heavy price for his individuality and refusal to bow to the town’s societal norms and Dr Tower faces isolation (even if partially self-inflicted).  Parris will declare Dr Tower as a brilliant man whose intelligence and forward thinking is wasted in King’s Row. What compels him to remain in a hick town with such narrow-minded and stifling repression? It takes great strength of character and true principles set into foundations of integrity to withstand the onslaught.

Certainly the town of Kings Row understands the art of the cover-up – so much so that even the ‘best’ that the town has to offer, i.e. Parris, has learned how to do it. Parris is more than happy to commit Drake’s former flame Louise to a mental asylum, to protect Drake from Louise revealing the truth behind her now-dead father’s operation on Drake. Parris would know full well the horrors of such a committal yet he is initially happy to humour Louise into a false sense that he will help her. In truth, this is not the act of a honourable doctor and our high opinion of Parris is rattled. But it fits perfectly with the very atmosphere of the town. To protect Parris from scandal when Cassie is murdered, Drake is happy to lie that he was seeing Cassie and ruin his own reputation, which he claims is ruined anyway.

Perhaps the darkest element of the story deals with the secondary characters and the plot device upon which the film will turn and provide Drake’s character arc. The sadistic Dr. Gordon is later revealed to a self-appointed judge and jury within the town, abusing his position as a doctor and committing unspeakable and abominable operations upon those he considers due punishment for their transgressions. The fact that the good doctor is never questioned suggests the nature of the town protecting him and his activities – and it seems that his practice as a doctor is not exactly unseen by others. Parris, when discovering his grandmother is unwell and being treated by Dr Gordon, questions his mentor Dr Tower about Gordon’s reputation, professionalism and practice. The tone in which Parris asks his questions and the nature by which Dr Tower answers certainly suggests that rumours exist and Dr Gordon is whispered about. But Gordon’s abuse is not merely the act of a wayward or ‘mad’ doctor; it becomes the allegory for the abuse of power and authority by those who have it. Gordon is not only a doctor but in some sense a ‘respected’ leader within the town and its’ high society. His wife will certainly not question him and when his daughter threatens to expose him, he suggests how he will deal with her and seems more than ready to commit her.  The power of patriarchy is more than evident. 

As a result, Drake’s ability to disempower what Dr Gordon has done to him, with help from Parris and Randy, is a great victory over this long-established patriarchy and becomes a moment of courage as Drake takes ownership of his liberation, breaking the imprisonment of his condition.

It is actually quite a feat that Kings Row was made from Henry Bellamann’s 1940 novel in the first place. Upon its’ release, the novel was a massive success, with studios engaging in an intense battle for filming rights. However, turning Bellamann’s novel into a film that would meet the requirements of the Production Code would be extremely difficult. Not only does the murder-suicide occur but also the original motive behind it is far more sinister and darker than what anticipates the heinous act in the film. As critic Tim Dirks points out, ‘Cassie was afflicted with nymphomania, not insanity. Dr. Tower’s diary revealed that the warped doctor had eliminated his wife and then committed incest with his daughter in order to study its psychological effects. He then killed Cassie when she threatened to leave him and go to Parris’. Parris and Cassie are certainly in love and there are allusions that the two are consummating their love. In the film, Dr. Tower’s motives are designed as almost valorous and noble. Parris interprets the doctor’s act as an attempt to ‘save’ Parris from the same fate as Dr. Tower – marrying an unbalanced woman and finding himself locked for life in a small town with small-minded people. Indeed, Parris even calls Dr. Tower a ‘brilliant man’ for his foresight, as well as his genius as a doctor. Murder-suicide is a heinous act and not one of brilliance or courage, yet there is a twisted logic in Kings Row, which has even reached Parris.

Arguably, these considerations may not necessarily condemn Parris as a character and the difficulties and complexities of situations that we all encounter in life may have to deal with choosing the lesser of two evils. Nevertheless, it may appear that in Kings Row, such choices become very apparent and if the audience looks carefully, a darker and more sinister reality exists behind the picket fences and claims of being ‘ a good town’.

 Kings Row is a superb film which allows the audience to become consumed in the drama and absorbed by the depth of its’ characters. The quality of production typifies Warner Bros and Hal Wallis, then Head Of Production at Warners, knew how to build a picture and shape it to its’ finest results. The pedigree of Sam Wood as director is well known although by all reports he was less concerned with the visual impact of the film (still beautiful by James Wong Howe’s impeccable standards) and more so with the building of the key characters, particularly Parris.

  There is a great courage in the production of this film, as already discussed and the more explicit themes and concerns of the novel are still present in the subtle and nuanced development of the story. Ultimately, Kings Row is far more than a melodrama but a revelation of the darkness of some places, where facades of propriety, community and ‘goodness’ are stripped down to reveal hypocrisy and abuse of power. On a larger scale, Kings Row becomes an allegory for the sinister corruption and hypocrisy that may not only exists in our own towns and cities but within our society as a whole. As an audience we learn that there is a price to pay if we care to challenge it, ignore it or even escape it; and we may well ask if that price is worth paying if it means our integrity and sense of self remains intact.

Paul Batters teaches secondary school History in the Illawarra region and also lectures at the University Of Wollongong. In a previous life, he was involved in community radio and independent publications. Looking to a career in writing, Paul also has a passion for film history.

The Dark Underbelly Of Americana: ‘Kings Row’ (1942) by Paul Batters "I only know that you have to judge people by what you find them to be and not by what other people say they are" - …

[pennys-th0ughts]

The Bond (Chapter two)

The hot and dark liquid went down my throat as thin small lava rivers going downhill, something that made me rip off the last veils of stupor from an overslept morning. Amara had made some blueberries pancakes and the smell was flooding the kitchen in every direction possible. The soft perfume of the fruits lying on a black glass bowl mixed with Amy’s was making a citric-floral combination that, to me, was a little irresistible. Amara came to me and wrapped her arms from behind; she sank her face in the hollow of my neck and kissed me tenderly. The contact with her soft skin gave me goosebumps and sent a delicious shiver down my spine that made me close my eyes just to enjoy the warmth of her breath. Once she had me at her mercy, she began playing with my hair, interlacing her fingers and pulling locks of it in a way that only she knew it would put me under an unbreakable spell.

– ¿Is it me or are you looking for an exciting way to start the day, princess? – I asked feeling I was losing the battle of restraining myself against her sensual charms.

– I will leave that to your own judgement, Robert – Amy playfully winked at me with her green eye.

She kept massaging the back of my head but pulling my hair a little harder this time. She was definitely decided to make me lose my temper by making the walls of my will to crumble, brick by brick. Amara finally merged her lips with mine, got her hand under my shirt and started sliding it over my chest slowly. The tip of her index finger met one of my nipples and their greeting lasted a couple of minutes. Amy’s circular movements made my chest skin get tense and by the time she let go my already sensible nipples, I was going through a rough boner my pants were hardly keeping at bay. Amara undid my belt and unbuttoned my pants and I immediately felt my underwear expanding, giving some room to my private parts.

– You are sailing in dangerous waters, darling…

Amy shut me up placing one of her fingers on my lips, got her hand under my underclothes and began giving me a delicious hand job. As she started speeding up the pace, as my grouting began to get louder until she muffled the noises with her mouth one more time. Amara was feeling really horny that morning and it didn’t took so long before she took her underwear off and take a sit on my lap. The movements of her waist were intoxicating and delicious, like the finest wine being tasted for the first time by the wisest palate. She was the sweetest wine and I was starting to get really drunk.

– ¿Am I doing it okay, daddy? – She boldly whispered and bit my earlobe.

Every move she was making and every word she was teasing me with were only fuel to the fire she had lit on me and I feared that everything will end up in a very big mess, but she didn’t and kept on going with her naughty little game. Amara was pressing herself against me so strongly that her walls began feeling tight which meant only one thing, she was ready and she was inviting me to cum inside.

– Let it go, daddy – she demanded pulling my hair backwards.

Amy sucked my lower lip and bit it after and that was it. I couldn’t hold up myself much longer and I finally released all the tension of my body to my lower abdomen. Slowly I started feeling how every muscle relaxed and tasty little spasms invaded me, running down from the back of my head to my toes. Same reaction took over Amara’s body. She was exhausted but I could tell in her expression that she was satisfied; she lied down on my chest without leaving her place and softly caressed my cheek.

– That tasted better than breakfast, princess – I dared to point that out in a mischievous tone-. I could get used to this.

Onyx showed up at the kitchen’s door and sat there while judging us in silence with his amber eyes. Then he started washing his face with one of his paws. Amy and I got dressed and picked some of the clothes up that were still scattered all over the floor. We exchanged looks of complicity and laughed since Onyx should be thankful for not witnessing a short conditioned movie minutes ago. Being also judged by a cat during such intimate moment would have been a way too embarrassing experience to bear with.

Outside the streets were being filled by an early afternoon sun and a warm breeze. Spring was just blooming like some wild flowers in the countryside; sparrows were crowding the trees and harmonizing cheerful little songs along with the rest of the nocturnal beings. Another day was slowly coming to an end leaving behind the soft perfume of rosebuds. Amara led the way to the quarry’s lake. She was excited about the idea of taking a dip in those turbid waters with no clothes on and I was starting to be dragged by the same idea.

A pale white moon was high above in the sky, shedding some light upon us, bathing our bodies silently with blueish tones. Amara was in the lake and all I could see were her slim delicate curves moving like the small waves around her. I was enjoying my little private show in silence, capturing every single detail with my blue eyes and sending them right where I wanted them to be. In the distance, Amara looked like a mystic creature, untamed and hussy; the perfect portrait of the mythological mermaid that existed only in child fairytales. Her wet silhouette seemed to be pearled by the moonlight. Suddenly she went for a deeper dive and vanished of my sight. I was started to get worried when few minutes passed and she didn’t come up to the surface. I stood up and began dissecting every inch of the lake searching for her when my eyes turned their usual color to an amber yellowish one. The spectrum of tonalities and shades were clearer which meant that I could easily see in the dark. I was getting in the lake when I finally saw her little head popping out of the water. The feeling of relief made me sigh deeply and smile like a fool at the thought of being so overprotective, but I couldn’t help it.

Amara started her way to the shore and once I had her in front of me, all soaking wet and naked, she wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my chest; as mine rested on hers, my hands holding her waist began shaking. The burning feeling was slowly crawling upwards through my arms as if I was placing them on a bonfire. Amy took my shirt off and motioned me to sit on the grass; then she continued undressing me provocatively without leaving her tenderness behind. I was undoubtedly at her mercy and actually I didn’t mind to be part of her dirty little games that often. Such level of trust and commitment had strengthened even more over time and that, ironically, instilled certain fear in me. The only fear I was afraid the most: losing her.

The look on my face must have been of complete distraction since she had to wave her hand in front of my eyes to make me snap out of it.

– Robert, – she chuckled- ¿you alright?

I shook my head until my eyes got fixed in hers then I took her face between my hands and laid a kiss on her plump lips.

It was an overwhelming hot morning when the end of everything I knew began. A suffocating day that reminded me the hell I came from and how far I have travelled to put it behind, a place where darkness and shadows were the main features of a faceless creature which primary mission was to consume and destroy. I was an abominable entity that survived because I kept on feeding on so many people’s fears and nightmares, I was nothing but a bad seed that successfully made its way and bloomed in-between the human’s mind cracks of insecurity, sorrow and loneliness. I was a rotten fruit and all the darkness a person can barely imagine. I had been designated one mission: to conquer the weak and kill the rebel minds, to infest another world in decay and turn it into a nest for the beast to breed and multiply. I was a messenger of death and death will follow me wherever I go, no matter how hard I try to deny my true nature, it would always remind me what I had been created for.

The blue cover book Amara was holding in her hand flew through the air and its pages got torn up violently ending up most of them scattered on the floor. As the object crashed on the concrete, so did her body with a thud. I saw everything happening in slow motion and the powerless feeling that flooded my body froze me on the spot disabling almost all my motor functions except for my eyes and my breathing, everything else had been shut down like a machine having a malfunction. The chaotic noises came first, later, a deathly silence and finally the indistinct screaming. Amara was crossing the street when the careless driver hit the break but he didn’t make it on time and his reckless intent to cross when the light was turning red resulted in a fatal tragedy for many people. A few got injured because of the shattered glass that flew in every direction and some metallic parts coming from both cars got detached, but only one was killed.

My knees threatened to collapse but I made the effort to not to fall, my eyes were already full of tears and the knot in my throat was chocking me more and more. I ran to where Amara was lying without looking around me. My eyesight was fixed only in one place preventing me from looking anything else. Amara’s body was severely injured and it was easy to see the many broken bones the car crash costed her. Her black hair was dyed in red because of the pool of blood her head was resting on and her beautiful but pale face was distorted with pain. I knelt by her side and got the chance to see a slight smile on her lips before she passed away. That was her own way of telling me that everything will be okay. That was her way of saying goodbye.

I took Amara’s lifeless body in my arms and whispered something to her ear that no one would be able to hear then I picked her up and disappeared using one of the sewer holes taking advantage of the shocked and curious audience still focused on the car crash.

Her body started to get cold but the expression on her face was peaceful, as if she was in some kind of deep sleep. I put her body inside the circus wagon I used to live in for so many decades and closed the narrow door. I sat down at the edge of the small stage and thought for long minutes. I was feeling empty and trapped in my own cobwebs. The desperate sensation was drowning me, dragging me into the darkest and unspeakable depths of madness. For a moment my body felt light as a feather. Suspended in the air by invisible threads, that were tied up to my hands and feet, my limbs began moving on their own making me dance incoherently while a voice very similar to mine started laughing diabolically. “¡Dance, Pennywise, dance!. Pennywise the dancing clown…”

A deathly hauling came out of my throat that forced me to fall on my knees. I covered my ears to stop hearing the guttural voices that kept spinning around me like some kind of dying swarm until the noise became louder and unbearable. There is when I gave up to my most compassionate side and decided to do something I knew I shouldn’t do, something that was punishable by death in case you get to have a soul and if you didn’t then you would surely be condemned to be torn in pieces and live an endless agony until you would be finally gone. I breathed in profoundly and encouraged myself to proceeded. I still had time but I was lacking of the most important component of this body switching ritual, the final vessel for the soul.

Amara had the little bad habit of leaving one of the bedroom’s windows slightly open. I opened it up and got inside trying not to look suspicious and making the less noise possible to not scare Onyx. Once inside I searched for him in the living room. He was peacefully sleeping in his bed next to the fire place. The moon was pouring its light inside the room from one of the windows and it looked like a soft blanket covering Onyx’s carbon black fur. I walked towards the cat and sat down in front of him, then, I gently patted his head to wake him up.

– Something terrible has happened, my little friend, – I lifted him up and fixed my eyes with his. Onyx didn’t turn his gaze away and kept looking at me as if he was capable to understand what I was saying- and I'm going to need your help.

I could feel his tiny heart accelerating and a crystal like little tear rolled down one of his cheeks. A mixture of bewilderment and sorrow oppressed my chest once more; the mortal creature and I didn’t need much more than to look at each other to understand each other. Onyx had finished creating a special bond with me and that was all I needed.

To replace someone’s old body the new one needed to make space for the soul thus it had to die. Amara had died not long ago and Onyx’s body was in perfect shape and healthy, but his soul needed to leave his body in order to Amara’s could take place in it. What I was about to do was against nature laws and every possible human right, but I didn’t care. I was blindfolded by sadness, rage and guilt, to not see it coming. My sense of perception was sharp and got more accurate over the years going beyond of any other kind of human perceptive skill but what happened this day I just couldn’t foresee it.

Onyx was lying down next to Amara’s broken body in complete silence as if he was getting ready for what I was going to do. In his amber eyes there wasn’t a hint of fear but deep sadness. Noticing his restlessness I hurried myself to begin with the body switching process.

– This is not going to hurt my little friend – I comforted him and patted his little head.

I placed four fingers on his eyes closed and two on Amara’s and began singing an ancient chanting which origins belonged to the world of my dimension. I repeated the key words three times, took a red thread and tied up Amara’s hand to Onix’s paw. Suddenly the cat stopped breathing.

Some minutes went by and everything around me was nothing but silence until something extraordinary happened. I lifted my hands from their eyes and Amara’s had turned amber. Another couple more minutes went by until Onyx finally started breathing again and there is when I cut the red cord. In that moment I felt an indescribable relief as if I had been holding my breath under water for a long time. I took the cat in my hands and picked him up carefully; I started slowly rocking him in my arms like a newborn child waiting patiently for him to open his eyes. When he finally did, I locked my blue eyes on his and felt an overwhelming joy warming my chest. And there they were, those beautiful blue and green eyes, those living marbles that stole my heart the first moment I saw them…

I want to thank the collaboration of @sunflowerskissed for helping me picking the name for the cat.

This story was made in commemoration of my little furry friend Taco, who passed away not so long ago.

I miss you dearly buddy 💔