#alec and mara

[queenscharacters]

“She sounds wonderful, baby, I can’t wait to meet her!” Mara to Alec

Alec had a soft spot for Miss Birdie Halco for quite some time now. Even when his sister, who was quite literally his best friend, was hitching about her…he still saw her differently. She was special. He didn’t need time to learn that. He had seen it in her since he had known her. And, god, it had been getting increasingly more difficult to ignore the feelings that were growing for this girl.

This wasn’t the first time his mother had heard about her. Or the second. Or third, fourth, fifth…in the span of a few years, this probably had to hit the dozen mark. At first he just had mentioned her in passing, acknowledging her beauty and strength, but now? Oh, he could lose himself in talking about her. He was infatuated. He really, really liked Birdie. This was more than just an innocent crush; this was bordering on feelings he never experienced before.

“I want to ask her over, but I don’t want to upset Savannah.” He admitted, frowning. He wasn’t going to act like he was oblivious to their past, or that he could necessarily ignore it. “Or Birdie, either.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to show them they would probably like each other if they the other a chance, but I’m sure they would.”

When Alec realized all the negative things his parents could’ve possibly heard about his girlfriend from his baby sister’s mouth, he grimaced. He wasn’t going to say Savannah was in the wrong to feel the way she did, but he couldn’t hold the same anger towards Birdie. Knowing the trauma she went through was enough to make him feel awful. His sister and him were so fortunate in so many walks of life and then there was Birdie…who had none of those luxuries. She was dealt the shittiest hand he’s ever seen and no one gave her the credit for sticking thought it.

“Can we maybe go out for a meal or something? You, dad, Birdie, and I?” He asked hopefully. “That way, her and Sav aren’t put in an uncomfortable situation yet, and you guys can meet her…I really want you guys to meet her.” He added, even though he knew he didn’t need to ham it up. His parents were phenomenal. They would do whatever to keep him and his siblings happy. “She’s really special to me…I think I might be falling in love with her.”

[popculturebuffet]

Thomas and Friends Retrospective: The Magic Railroad: The Workprint Cut (Comissioned by Lachie V)

Previously on this blog:

Also I may or may not have reviewed a bunch of Thomas the Tank Entine, cumilating in a look at the disasterous theatrical cut which you can find my barely coherent thoughts on that barely coherent film here. We haven't gotten the results back from the lab yet.

The Theatrical cut is so legendarily wonky I just.. coudln't leave it at that and feel like I gave the film a good shake. So I took on the arduous task of watching an unfinished workprint that I erronously said last time was on the blu ray. While the blu ray has some scenes from this version, the full workprint was leaked seperately and god bless those who did as it gives us something of a look at what this film was supposed to be. So join me under the cut as I see what this film WAS and if what it was was any good.. or at least comprehensible. After the nightmare of that last review i'll settle for "Makes sense from point a to b" that's the state we're entering this review at people. You've been warned.

The workprint of the Magic Railroad is interesting. This is the first workprint i've ever seen and thus the first i've ever covered on this blog. For those unaware, as I was before I googled it, a work print is an unfinished version of a film, with effects, adr and the soundtrack largely missing. So it was fascinating to see just how many pieces of the film, even things as simple as a line that LOOKED on screen are put into place after the fact. Film Editors don't get enough credit.. plenty of blame when it's earned but not enough credit and this made me respect them all the more.

That said watching a prototype of a finished film i'd seen.. was a lot. It seems easy, the effects just aren't there right? Well it's not just visual effects: it's SOUND effects. The only sounds are either ADR from the various crew member and anything on camera. And said ADR is not from the actors yet but various voices i'd never heard before and also Britt Alcroft. It's fair and I don't blame the cut for it, this wasn't MEANT to be viewed by anyone but editors. It's just hard on my autisim: whlie i'm functional and can handle sensory changes normally in a film, having there be no sound where their clearly should be in a lot of places... was just weird. I KNOW why it's not there, and usually my mind fills in the gaps but for some reason here it just felt extra off when an explosion or heavy digging happened with no sound. It's just this freaky effect and it took some time to get through it as a result, not helped by me only realizing what was really throwing me off towards the end of the film.

I can't recommend this cut as a film.. because it's not finished nor was it intended to be a finished product. It's not really something for bad movie night like it's theatrical cousin. As an interesting artifact of this film and Thomas as a whole though, I am delighted it exists as it fills in a LOT of the gaps and is complete enough I can judge what aspects were cut by their own merits.

Let's start with the big one, the most infamous and curious of the bunch: PT Boomer, played by Doug Lennox who realizes exactly what kind of film he's in and hams it up accordingly. Boomer is one of the films big bads... and was almost entirely cut from the theatrical cut, with only one brief scene that was redubbed, a scene so plot important and load bearing I forgot it even happened.

PT Boomer is all about

Wanting to make profit off things. That's.. about what we get. Seriously we have two seperate scenes where one of the kids asks Billy then Stacey about boomer.. and they just say essentially "He's greedy and wants to buy everything" without ever clarifying who he is, what he does for his BUISNESS, or what his goals are beyond "profit off a magical lady train he broke in the past." I am so sad he got cut as while he woudln't of made the film much better, he is so bad it's good glorious: even in this his plans literally boil down to

KIDNAP MAGIC LADY TRAIN FOR REVENGE

?????

PROFIT

It's still not much above Disel's plan that just replaces kidnap with kill and profit with "become train king". It is funny though and gives this guy a leg up.

The most we get is his backstory with Burnett, Lily's grandpa who gets fleshed out considerably in this version. In the original his backstory was just "diesel nearly killed this train I found and my wife never got to ride her" which is prettty damn thin and even before the workprint cut I could tell something was missing.

The actual backstory is still as thin as a sheet of paper covered in bacon grease, but it's at least.. something: He swored to take her on a ride but before he could Boomer, who had also wanted to bang Lily's grandma but lost out to burnett because well evil I guess, found her and threatned burnett if he didn't let him drive the train. He ended up driving too fast, making this a dramatic version of that trampoline scene from community.

I've tried not to use youtube videos as the thumbnail takes up the link but it really is just this exact moment but with trains and a dead wife.

We also get a minutes long montage of Burnett dancing with his wife. it adds nothing to the plot and is one of the cuts i can absolutely see why it happened. We also get a scene of Stone and Lily having dinner where he says I don't like trains.

Another change as a result is that the big cave scene with Patch.. is towards the end. In the thetrical cut we get 80 gallons of train expoision while the workprint at least plays it as a mystery: a whistle is heard in the mountain and instead of finding out what it is seconds after we hear it, it's played up the whole film. IT's a much better fit and I question why this was changed at all.

That also goes for Boomer. I went back and checked and. .he's not really IN the movie that much. He shows up, meances a bit, hams it up and leaves. He spends most of the film either trying ot find stone, buy shining time for some reason, which makes mr conductor's visions of an apocalypse make far more sense, and the rest trying to dig his way to the hidden railway then blow everything the fuck up when that dosen't work out. Keeping him in.. really wasn't going to hurt the film and I don't really buy reports "he scared children". The evil brother of the attention all gamers guy isn't going to be in any child's nightmares.

Cutting boomer also makes the non lily or coked out conductor characters feel more suplerfous as it turns out the original cut had way mroe for them to do. Not a lot, but still more. Patch has a horse.. which WAS in the theatrical cut but I did not notice. Probably because he's also lacking his sweet cowboy hat... it's like taking away knuckles cowboy hat from the sonic ova: you take away the source of his powers. Billy likewise gets a scene with boomer and a scene getting a warning. He still dosen't DO much but I feel bad for clowning on his actor last time: Russel Means is actually a wonderful billy replacement. He's not as good as Tom Jackson is in the role, but he's still pretty neat but in the theatrical cut he's there for all of two seconds and seemed a lot stiffer. That was really the editing's fault not him as he has billy's laidback charm and wise nature down pat. Stacey also gets an extra scene, though she still got PLENTy in the theatrical. Cutting this plot was unfair to the actors involved and their screentime and especially douchey to Doug Lennox, who put in a great performance. .that got cut entirely.

To my shock though the mass cuts... really aren't responsible for the film being pretty hard to parse. The workprint cut IS legible at least as a few confusing bits are explained: instead of wanting to kill all trains disel wants to conquer them, and he's unaware Lady is connected to the magic, meaning he GENUINELY dosen't realize he dies if he destroys her. So instead of stupid his plan comes off as dangerous and just the right amount of sinister for a preschool film instead of

We also get clarifcation on the "My Universe" thing. The narration for the work print still referes to it as mr. conductor's universe.. but they actually explain what the hell they were saying with that: The various mr conductors built this universe. Granted

Unlike the theatrical though, I can at least accept that answer: the mr conductors do have godlike powers and it makes Mr Conductor speaking with authority on his power loss possibly killing him less ass pully: it makes sense they'd pass this shit down through generations and makes sense Mr C Junior wouldn't know it as he's a fuckwit.

It makes the film less maddening.. but it dosen't change the fact this new lore is just kinda jammed in there, a square train in a round station house. The lore still dosen't make a ton of since even for a film for small children, and again thei rparents and possibly older siblings still have to watch it with them so why punch down. All punching down did was get parents to cave and go take their kids to see X-Men or Pokemon 2000 instead, both much better movies. Especailly pokmeon 2000. Fuck I really need to cover both of those don't I.

It also dosen't explain simple shit like "Why does lady tie the two universes together" and "after being in a coma for so long why is magic just fading now". It's still at the end of the day an overcomplicated mess that creates it's own weird lore never to be used again that no one vibed with because even for the stupid train children show it was baffling instead of fairy tale style like they were going for.

The other scenes cut are far more understandable: that dance scene I mentiond went on to long and we get a brief prologue of Lily in the big city and the reason behind the fire escape line. It's.. nothing we honestly needed mostly Mara wilson wistfully starring outside a train.. which is adorable but dosen't really move the plot along.

So that leads us to the final cut and the final change worth talking about between versions: the voice actors. Like with boomer the executives tried overcorrecting to test audience complaints. They dont' like one of the villians? Cut him out entirely. They don't like the voices for some of the characters? replace the bitches! Yeah originally Thomas was voiced by John Bellis, Percy and James by Thomas UK narrator Micheal Angellis, Splatter and Dodge by Patrick Breen, and Disel 10 by Keith Scott.

Unlike with removing boomer I get most of these edits: Unlike boomer I completely buy that D10 scared children as Keith Scott's voice for him is terrifying.. though the terror is undrecut by the adr version of him sounding like Lumpy Space Princess. It's a great voice and I feel bad for Scott.. but it is a bit too scary> Granted they coudl've just.. worked with him to find another voice as they had before (He tried a russian voice before this that was apparently even creepier), so it's shitty they fired him and everyone here instead of simply recasting them or giving them something else.

LIkewise I love MIcheal Angellis and having him voice cameo was a good idea.. but they shoudl've had him do Henry instead. His voice works when he's narrating every character.. but I get why having an old gentleman voice for Percy and James, both younger engines dosen't quite work. Granted unlike with D10, where his replacement got the tone better, making Percy and James small children dosen't fix the problem. Their youthful not 8. Stupid Train Children is not that literal a term.

Thomas on the other hand.. was fine: he sounded youthful, had a nice plesant voice and I honestly prefer it over the final cut voice with Eddie Glenn. Glenn isn't bad.. but Bellis just got the character better. Splatter and Dodge are also way better and the film does a far better job conveying thier reluctant minon status and making them humorous foils to dissel.

So all in all the Work Print version is a better film.. but only by comparision. It has some good stuff that was cuts and the edits done were mostly moronic but it's still a film that alternates between boring and WHAT THE FUCK. it just explains more, which helps with the latter

The Magic Railroad in either film is a film that tried to cram way too much shit in. It tried so hard to escalate thomas to save the world level shit when that just .. dosen't scale with either Thomas and Friends or Shining Time Station. Both are about small scale problems in small slice of lifey places: a cozy british isle and a whimsical train station. Their biggest issues are dickheads like Disel and god emperor or schemer. You could've had thomas go on a treasure hunt to save the rail way or shining time or both. Maybe Schemer is trying to buy the failing railway. I mean if their going to go with the skeezy buisness douche cliche at least make it the guy you already have who would defintely do that if he could. Give him Boomer as a boss if you want. It keeps the tension, the two worlds element and mr c going back and forth as he could've taken Mara Wilson to shining time to go on the hunt to save the station. Give her an attachment to it. Make Burnett stone a conductor. You don't have to throw everything out, but simply lowering the stakes would've made this a more coherent film. I"m not sure how GOOD it woudl've been bu tit would've been a better Thomas Movie, a better shining time movie and something people would've actually wanted to see.

Instead it's a mess that changed Thomas as a whole, with Britt's failures here leading to her stepping down and eventually the company being purchased by HIT. But more on that another time for now we can put this train to bed. These reviews have been exausting as I don't want to be negative but these films, both cuts, are hot garbage. one just makes more sense. Hopefully if the proposed thomas film goes through they get it right... until then all we're left is a mess of what could've been and alec baldwin on cocaine.

Next Time: Turns out there is one as we have a new plan. I'll be covering season 6 sometime later this year, season 7, then teaking a break while Lachey figures out the rest of the schedule and I cover venture bros seasons 4b- the end. Thanks for reading

[raymurata]

OC Kiss Week at the Zevraholics. Alec and @antivan-beau 's Edric Surana.

You know, just casually hitting on a stranger at a party. Certainly won't bump into him ever again...

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

"Hey, hi, um- I wanted to talk to you, because, well, you rescued me, and I don't like not thanking people for helping me, and you really helped me, and, well, um, would you like to go to dinner at the Ivory with me? They have vampire friendly options for drinks and steaks and stuff." - Mara @ Alec

Alec looks over quickly at the voice, surprised, but smiling a bit still. At the invitation, he looks surprised, blinking a few times and clearing his throat. "Oh! Um, yeah, sure, I'd-- really?"

[bxrn-thc-pxgcs]

Not a date not a date not a date not a date-

Mara repeated it to herself the whole flight over to Alec's, trying to keep calm. She could take someone to dinner without it being a date. Even if that someone was incredibly attractive.

Okay. Okay. She could do this.

Mara fluttered to the ground, shifting forms in a puff of smoke. "Hey!"

@nxttheendxfthestxry

[rcmclachlan]

OKAY so this is for @dadvans specifically because he and I have spent many an evening across multiple fandoms shouting at each other about various characters and their raging pregnancy kinks but anyway.

I saw this post.

And I had this thought that Tommy's probably only ever thought of children tangentially. Like, I kind of clock him as an only child who didn't have any little kids in his neighborhood growing up. His dad's sister had three, all of them older than him, and his mom's brother had two but they lived on the other side of the country so he only saw them in Christmas card photos and once at his grandmother's funeral.

The only kids he's ever around are the ones he sees on calls, who are all either unconscious, traumatized, or somewhere in the background out of the way where he doesn't have to interact with them. He's basically that gif of Alec Baldwin trying to console a crying Tina Fey with a broom, like, "there there."

But now that his life is enmeshed with the 118, he's around kids all the time: Jee, Christopher, Denny, Mara. And he sees Buck with them—how good he is to them, how patient and kind and compassionate, how he listens seriously to them and always tries to meet them on their level—and it's doing something for him. Like, a lot.

Then, like, one evening Buck and Tommy have dinner with Kameron and Connor, and they bring the baby—who has Buck's eyes and the same shape of his lips—with them, and Tommy watches Buck like a hawk all night. Buck's a natural with Spencer: holding him like a pro, soothing him whenever he fussed, making him laugh. He's loath to put him down.

Tommy's never seen someone so suited to be a parent before. He knows Buck wants kids more than anything. Buck stops to interact with every child they pass on the street the way Tommy does with dogs, like he can't help it, like he's got a homing beacon inside him. And children gravitate to Buck like he's a Disney princess. And after watching Buck with Kameron and Connor's kid, Tommy can't stop thinking about it. About Buck and kids. Specifically, Buck and their kids. 

Tommy looks out into his backyard and can picture Buck out there putting together one of those plastic Fisher Price playhouses and running around chasing after a toddler waddling around on chubby legs and tucked up next to a crib in the guest room-turned-nursery reading The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear to a drooling baby trying to shove its foot in its mouth. A baby with Buck's eyes and mouth, and Tommy's nose and cheeks. 

SO ANYWAY smash cut to later that night and Tommy's balls-deep in Buck, fucking him slowly, doing it missionary the way Buck loves because this way they can kiss and he can see every stupid expression that crosses Tommy's face, and Tommy's staring down at him and blurts out, "You were really good with Spencer tonight." 

And Buck sort of gasp-laughs, like, "You know I love kids," and he arches up against Tommy, and Tommy's hand slides down between them so he can get a hand on Buck's cock, but halfway there he gets distracted by the feeling of Buck's belly. It's taut and toned and flexing with every thrust, and out of nowhere a little voice in his head goes but imagine what it would look like with a bump. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And then his brain kind of makes a weird popping noise and his mouth goes rogue and says, "I know you do. I know you wanna have kids. Would you wanna have my kids?"

Evan's eyes fly open wide and he sort of stutter-wheezes in shock, "What? What do you—"

But now that Tommy's started, he can't stop, and the leisurely pace he'd been maintaining loses rhythm before picking up the pace, just these deep, dragging thrusts that pull at Evan's hole on the drawback. "But I don't think you'd be satisfied with just being handed a kid. I think you'd want it to be part of you from the start. I think you'd wanna feel it every step of the way. You want to feel it growing inside you so bad, don't you, baby? I bet it's all you think about."

"Tommy, what the fuck—" But Evan's mouth is open and panting, tongue lolling around in his mouth like it's suddenly too big to control, and he starts shuddering hard enough that his bones must be rattling. Tommy can feel his fat dick twitching against his stomach, drooling so much precome the glide between them is soaked and almost too easy, and Evan's insides are vibrating where they clutch Tommy's cock like a vice.

With a grunt, Tommy gathers Evan's impossibly long legs in the bends of his elbows and folds him practically in half, wheezing like he's gutshot, "Maybe I can't trust you with our condoms anymore. Maybe you've poked holes in all of them."

"Oh fuck, that's so hot," Evan gasps, his arms flying up over his head so he can put his hands against the headboard and fuck himself wildly back on Tommy's cock, his eyes wide and scandalized, and alight with a lust bordering on violent. Even through the condom, Tommy can feel how hot he is inside, like a fever, like magma.

They've fucked a million ways since they first got together—enthusiastic, rough, slow, sweet, hard, exhausted, frenzied, grateful—but they've never fucked like this: just absolutely nasty. 

"What are you gonna do if the condom breaks?" Tommy gasps into Evan's ear, then bites it while Evan drags in desperate gulps of air and scrabbles for purchase on Tommy's back, fingers slipping in sweat. "I'd fill you up. I'd shove so much come up inside you that it'd have to take."

Evan's wailing so loud the neighbors are absolutely going to call the cops and his hole is rippling around Tommy's dick so good that Tommy's eyes roll back into his head, and then Evan starts begging like his heart's breaking, "Oh god, oh fuck, please, baby, do it, I want it so much, I want to feel it."

Through the sweat dripping in his stinging eyes, Tommy looks down at Evan, who's got his teeth bared like an animal, who's taking every punishing thrust like it's his due, even as his eyes well up with tears that spill over his temples into his hairline. He thinks of how it would feel without the condom between them, how he would see-saw his cock through wads of his own come into the dripping hot sleeve of Evan's body, every thrust pushing more and more of it into some secret place where it would stay until something took root. He squeezes his eyes shut, because if he spends one more second looking at the hungry, crazed expression twisting Evan's face into a rictus, he's going to come.

The bed frame's making metal-on-metal sounds that don't sound like they're covered under the warranty, but Tommy can't stop fucking Evan like he's trying to split him down the middle. He's going to shove his way inside until he reaches the pulp at the center and pries Evan open like a nectarine. 

"You want it?" Tommy bites out, then doesn't wait for an answer, dropping down and smearing his mouth over Evan's in a fierce, sloppy kiss, sucking his tongue, biting his lips. Their teeth clack together painfully and Evan makes wounded noises into his mouth when Tommy's cock grinds up deep inside him. Tommy fucks him brutally until he stops.

Breaking away with a choked gasp, Evan chants tearfully, "Oh my god, oh my god, come in me, please, I want you to, god, Tommy, fuck me pregnant," and then comes messily between them, and there's so much of it like there always is, soaking their skin, sliding down to get sucked up by the sheets. Evan sobs and comes and comes and comes himself insensate.

The combination of the hard clench of Evan's body and his desperate pleas touches some part of Tommy's lizard brain that feels like a one-two punch, and he fucks in and in and in frantically, buries himself inside that trembling furnace, and finally something breaks and he comes like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

Gracelessly, he collapses on top of Evan, sucking in great, painful gulps of air, while Evan shivers underneath him like he's been electrocuted (again). Somehow, Evan still finds the wherewithal to throw his arms around Tommy's back and cling, pulling down on him as though he can somehow make Tommy sink deeper into him, like he never wants to not be glued together by sweat and come. Impossible. Tommy's two-hundred-and-something pounds of deadweight and his head is full of television snow. He's a husk of a man. He's probably going to die here.

Evan coughs into Tommy's hair. His voice is in absolute tatters when he chokes out, "That was a hell of a way to ask if I want kids."

From where his face is smashed into the bed just above Evan's shoulder, Tommy mumbles, "I think every single brain cell my body's ever made is in the condom right now. Good thing you're the smart one or else our kid would be up shit creek."

Evan's entire body shakes with laughter, and Tommy can't help but join in, exhaustedly lifting his head so he doesn't miss a second more of that grin. If Athena knew the kinds of things Tommy'd do for that smile, she'd throw his ass in prison for the next 500 years.

"At least they'd still be pretty," Evan says, snickering. 

"There is that," Tommy agrees, and with a grunt he forces himself off the warm, welcoming mattress that Evan's allowed himself to become to deal with the aforementioned condom. He shudders in revulsion when he slides it off and tying it is an exercise in futility—it's disgustingly full and his hands are shaking. 

Evan lifts his head to see what he's doing, then lets it drop back with a huff. "Just wrap it in a bunch of tissues."

"Is it weird that I resent wearing it at all?" Tommy finally loops it so he can tie the knot, then throws it in the direction of the little trash barrel on the other side of the nightstand. It hits the floor with the same slap a water balloon makes. Tommy skeeves a face at it.

"'Course not," Evan says, sliding a hand up Tommy's thigh, aimless. "Our kid's swimming around in there somewhere."

Tommy risks a look at his face, because there's going with the flow and then there's letting your boyfriend plow you into the mattress while he tells you he wants to get you pregnant. But Evan doesn't look mad or like he's laughing at Tommy. He mostly looks peaceful, and maybe a little bemused. 

"Uh, I'm sorry about that," Tommy says, feeling so awkward he wants to peel his own skin off. It shapes his words strangely. "I just—watching you with Spencer made me a little insane, I think."

"Don't be sorry. I think I learned something new about myself tonight, but hell if I can tell you what it is." A sly smile spreads across Evan's face like a flame on a candle's wick. "Either way, it was fucking hot."

Relief unwinds all the muscles in Tommy's lower back, and he hunkers down, slotting himself up against Evan and pillowing his cheek on Evan's chest. Almost immediately, Evan slides the pads of his fingers up and down his spine, and Tommy can feel himself rapidly approaching post-nut blackout territory.

"But kids, though," Evan murmurs thoughtfully.

"Mm." Tommy sketches a nuzzle against Evan's nipple, which earns him a laugh and a slap to the back of the head. He chuckles and settles down with a hum. "Yeah. Well, our kids."

"Huh." The smile on Evan's face is audible, and deafening.

[inell]

Possibly a dumb question but I saw you reblog a few leverage things recently and you're one of my favorite 9-1-1 writers so I was wondering what you think a 911 Leverage Fusion AU could look like if you were to think about it because their two of my favorite shows

Goodness! Thank you for the compliment. I thought about this during my commute home from work, and this is what I came up with.

We use season 7 of 911. Councilwoman Ortiz is obviously dirty, having used her power to force Gerrard into the 118, and to remove Mara from HenRen’s custody as well as revoking their foster status. That’s all canon.

We pick up with Toni, Hen’s mom, reaching out to these nice people she met when she lived in Portland years and years ago. They ran a gastropub but she also knew about their other business because Alec was a sweetheart who chatted way too much. She contacts the new Leverage HQ in New Orleans looking for Hardison, and she gets Parker. Who is very interested when she hears about the kid being removed and she shares it with the others, research is done, and, because it’s 911 (which tends to be racially cliche), Ortiz ties into the cartel subplot (her son died from illegal drugs, after all, and there’s also the people trafficking subplot that could be linked).

Cut to Leverage crew showing up in LA and meeting Toni, who hasn’t told Hen about her interference. Parker and Eliot fight over who gets to go undercover at the firehouse, because they need to get rid of Gerrard and figure out his connection to Ortiz. Eliot wins, obviously, simply by asking Parker to put on full gear and carry a 200lb weight.

Parker is Not Happy, but Eliot goes undercover as a new firefighter. He and Eddie hit it off with the whole military slash guilt slash PTSD slash dislike of firearms thing, and Buck is suspicious because they don’t have an opening for another member on their team and also why is this guy being so friendly with Eddie and who cares if he’s from Oklahoma which is next to Texas and they bond over TexMex and country music and Eliot tells Eddie he needs to keep his dog on a leash before it gets bit, and Buck really really hates this new guy who oddly has the same name as a character on Star Trek, according to Chim.

Meanwhile, Breana is sent to work at the city council as an intern who is assigned to Ortiz, while Sophie and Harry work on a cover to get closer to the whole drug slash trafficking thing, and Hardison is working on a project in Cairo but FaceTimes Toni and Parker a few times (showing off his muscles that he’s happened to get while geeking out and not because there’s a new movie role he’s filming in RL), and Parker annoys Eliot by being in his ear every shift, listening to everything and watching what he sees through his nifty camera lenses.

Parker loves Chimney, thinks he’s hilarious, and she doesn’t know why Eliot won’t tell Chim the dad jokes she keeps repeating in his earpiece because she wants to know if Chim thinks she’s funny. She’s also working on the whole foster revocation situation with help from Hardison, but bugging Eliot is a lot more fun. She especially likes to make popcorn for the times when he’s chilling in the loft with his new BFF and said BFF’s BFF. She might be neurodivergent, but she’s not even as fucked up as Buck and Eddie and their whole thing. Breana shares the popcorn when she isn’t working for free and trying to suck up to Ortiz.

In the end, they manage to catch Ortiz, the person on the foster system that did her dirty work, the main cartel players connected to her, and they link Gerrard to them. They give Toni the money they got from the deal, which she explains to Hen and Karen as a lucky lotto win when she gives it to them for Mara and Denny. Eliot quits the 118, but not before locking Buck and Eddie up in the supply closet and telling them work out their UST, damn it, and Bobby comes back as Captain.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count — Part IX: Slaughterfish

ao3

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Author's note: Happy Monday! Please accept this chapter as a distraction as many of us in the US face inclement weather that's a little too Skyrim-esque for comfort.

Tag list:

@ravenmind2001 @incorrectskyrimquotes @uwuthrad @dark-brohood @owl-screeches @binaominagata @constantfyre @kurakumi @stormbeyondreality @singleteapot @aardvark-123 @blossom-adventures @argisthebulwark @inkysqueed @average-crazy-fangirl @the-tuzen-chronicles @shivering-isles-cryptid @orangevanillabubbles

Hey! If you want to be on the tag list, just ask! I'd be happy to add you! ✨

Content Warning: Verbal abuse; mature language; Bishop being Bishop.

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Contrary to her previous misgivings, Leara found that she could stomach showing her face in Windhelm again. It didn’t hurt that she wore the cowl up over her mouth and hood over her hair, effectively concealing her identity to most passersby. She prayed to Akatosh, Mara, and Kynareth that no one remembered her involvement in that circus of a performance at the palace! If she didn’t already have nightmares from the war and her battle with Alduin, then Leara was certain the mortification she’d felt under Alec’s attentions would haunt her sleep. 

Talk about a night she’d never forget! If only she could!

Well, if only she could forget most of it, she reflected as she and Bishop made their way across the bridge. That night she put to rest at least one of her insecurities concerning Ulfric Stormcloak: The fear that he would recognize her for who she really was, not as Dragonborn, but as an officer of the Aldmeri Dominion. That was worth something, for however brief a time the relief had lasted.

It was just her luck that a new fear soon took its place, one more solid and present. She snubbed his letter. For the hundredth time since, Leara regretted not opening it when she’d had the chance. Now it was lost, and whatever important business Ulfric Stormcloak had with her went ignored. Would he agree to speak to her about the peace council after she slighted him? Leara was at a loss. Truthfully, she was unfamiliar with how letters and summons from jarls worked in Skyrim. Was it very different from High Rock, where ignoring a court summons could mean a day in the stocks, or worse?

“You’re fidgeting again.”

“Sorry.”

Bishop shot her a look, but Leara was too preoccupied to try and unravel it. In fact, she’d been preoccupied since before they left Whiterun. To her unsurprise, Bishop made his awareness of this quite vocal. During the nights on the road, while she sat beside the fire, twisting her rings around raw fingers and worrying over the peace council, he would sit across from her, sometimes snarking off, sometimes shaking his head. Every night, without fail, he offered her a better distraction and every time, Leara refused. She knew all too well what Bishop’s idea of a “better distraction” was, and she was too busy to play his little game of musical bedrolls. 

The grey skies to the northeast threatened foul weather from the Sea of Ghosts. Leara found they reflected her mood: Dark, worrisome, and held in place by a few well-placed bobby pins and armor straps. 

Between her and Bishop, Karnwyr plodded, his head low. Every once and a while, the wolf would catch Leara’s eye, and the weight of his care would strike her. On those nights when she worried and Bishop whined, Karnwyr would curl up beside her, his now-familiar presence a comforting heat against her leg. Whoever coined the phrase, “Silence is golden,” must’ve had a dog like Karnwyr, loyal, protective, and companionable to a fault. If anything good came from her keeping Bishop around, it was Karnwyr. 

The gates were closed. Foot traffic around Windhelm was scarce; Leara hadn’t seen a single wagon since they passed through the miller’s hamlet early that morning. With another cautious glance at the darkening clouds, Leara approached the gate, Bishop dragging his feet behind her. One of the city guards gave her a nod as she went to open one of the doors, but otherwise, all was quiet. 

It set Leara’s teeth on edge. 

Windhelm was as worn and grey as before, cast in shadows from the approaching storm. Inside the gates, people scurried back and forth, not hurried, but none seemed willing to stop and engage in curbside conversations with neighbors or strangers. Thunder rumbled near the mountain’s head, punctuating the dull crunch of feet on stone and permafrost. Something loosened in Leara’s chest. The city looked as tired as she felt.

“Black mood,” Bishop observed next to her. “You’d’ve thought a bunch of Stormcloaks would like a little rain.”

“No one likes dismal weather,” Leara muttered back. She slipped Bishop a small coin purse. “Now, would you be so kind as to go handle our accommodations? I’ve business at the palace, and even if that doesn’t take long, I don’t think we’ll be leaving until that storm passes.” 

Bishop stilled, the coin purse loose in his palm. “You have business in the palace? That’s why we’re here?” At Leara’s affirmation, he threw his head back with a groan. “That’s real funny, your ladyship, because I could’ve sworn we had this conversation before!”

With one hand propped against her hip, Leara quirked a delicate dark eyebrow at the ranger, a silent, “Are you serious?” in the draw of her mouth. 

“I just mean,” Bishop went on, unbothered, “you know I don’t want you around that religious freak!”

Lifting a silent prayer to Mara for patience, Leara shook her head. “Careful, Bishop. Just remember that you’re in his city, surrounded by his supporters. You have a certain, ah, je ne sais quoi about you that sets people off and a comment like that’s toeing the line.”

“A certain what? – No, forget it! Listen—” Bishop caught Leara’s free hand, pulling her to him. Leara found herself chest plate to leather jacket with Bishop on the streets of Windhelm, surrounded by people and overlooked like a tree in the forest. Sleet began to fall, brushing the rooftops and stone with a bitter wet gruel, but Leara didn’t see it for the blaze in Bishop’s gaze. “Listen, you’re a good girl. I get that! But you keep playing with fire every time you go out of your way to help someone! Those old windbags, that nutjob in the ice burg, Jarl Temper Tantrum – and now you want to skip up to Ulfric damn Stormcloak and share friendship bracelets with him! Are you out of your damn mind? Wait! Don’t answer that! Oblivion knows you’re a mad woman!”

“Are you done?”

“Am I – are you even listening to me?”

Leara yanked her hand from his. “Yes, actually! And now it’s your turn to listen to me for once! I am the Dragonborn! By the grace of Akatosh—”

“Oh, here we go again with that Divines bull—”

“—by the grace of Akatosh, I am Dragonborn, and if that means I need to meet with the An-Xileel of all things, then I will bloody well do so!”

“The who—” 

“My muse!” 

In rare harmony, Leara and Bishop groaned.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Leara sighed, her forehead pressed into her palm. 

“You’re the moron who just had to shout about being Dragonborn to the rooftops!” hissed Bishop. 

“Shouted? Hardly! I—”

And then Alec was next to them, sleet weighing down the giant plume of his puffed-up hat. He was wrapped in an oversized fur coat that looked suspiciously like snow fox. Leara gave half a thought to calculating just how many little foxes it would take to make such a thing. Hadn’t she seen a similar coat on the Countess of Bruma years ago? Then Alec snatched up her hand, cutting off her calculations.

“Dragonborn, you’ve returned! I knew you would, of course. A vision like yourself knows in her heart that her radiance must be captured like sunlight through a prism!” His hands were unbearably soft, Leara noticed, wondering where the calluses were from his lute. “You need me to focus your beauty and heroism for the world to see! I can assure you that I’m up for the challenge! Just say the word! I will stay right here, ready and willing by your side!”

“I bet you are,” Bishop sneered, batting Alec’s arm so that the bard released his hold on Leara. “Now get lost! The grown-ups are talking.”

Alec reeled back, as if only just noticing Bishop for the first time. Standing between the two, Leara just restrained the urge to face palm. “I see you’re still hounding her like a lost puppy, savage,” sniffed the so-called Prince of Song in distaste. Unfortunately for him, the heat was lost in the uncanny stillness of his sculpted face. “Still looking for a bone?”

“I’ll give you a bone,” growled Bishop, “right up your scrawny brown ass!”

Seriously? Must they do this in public? Out on the street, of all places? Behind her, Karnwyr grunted, a near-silent agreement. At least someone had manners, even if it was the actual animal!

Alec marched right up to Bishop, his too-perfect nose pointed right at the scruff on the ranger’s chin. “Is that the best you can do, you untamed wild man? What do you know of treating a woman such as the Dragonborn like the goddess of perfection she is?”

“A thing or two more than you, you sniveling brat!”

Leara crept back, first one step and then another. Neither Bishop nor Alec noticed, so engrossed in their dualling match that they didn’t see the object of their argument walk away. Any moment now, she expected them to stop brandying words and switch to a more, ah, biological weapon. Whatever. She had palaces to go to and jarls to see. 

Karnwyr needed no prompting to follow her as Leara ducked down a side street and through a back alleyway. Snow mounds lined the broken stones, crusting the foundations of buildings with a frozen blend of frost and dirt. What wasn’t packed into the corners, swept aside by busy feet, was strewn across the narrow alley in streaks and banks. The grips on her plated boots pierced through the icy mixture, leaving thin, dotted footprints in her wake. Leara wouldn’t put it past Bishop to track her and Karnwyr once he got bored with Alec – or either when either realized that she left – but she hoped he waited long enough for her to convince Ulfric to attend the peace council before he came to rain on her parade. 

Akatosh, but one would think Bishop was her overprotective father, the way he carried on!

At the end of the alley was a drop-off; the alley stretched between two buildings set on a lower tier before leading directly into a wider street. The husky scent of burning incense wafted by, teasing Leara’s nose with musk and spice. Oh! This was the Grey Quarter, wasn’t it? 

Leara slipped down from the ledge, and once down, waved for Karnwyr to jump after her. Emerging from the alley’s end, she found that the streets were different from those in the rest of the city. Though snow and slush still lined the stones, bright lanterns of crimson, maroon, and sienna blazed on the eaves of buildings, seemingly untouched by the increment weather. Many of the structures were built from wood, heavy boreal hardwoods harvested from the slopes of the Winterhold Mountains. Some bore tribal markings, remnants carried over from the Ashlander tribes Leara knew once roamed the isle of Vvardenfell before the Red Year devastated much of the island, driving longstanding natives into exile. Interspersed with these were House banners: Hlaalu, primarily, though she recognized the armored crab of Redoran on a few, as well as the twisting roots of a Telvanni banner at the end of the road. 

This must be the main street through the district, she thought, making a slow spin, taking it in. Now where did she go?

Clairvoyance glittered at the end of her fingertips before the sound of her name being called sent the ethereal tether back to Magnus in a wisp of vapor. Leara jerked around.

“Jolinar Aren?”

And it was the Archmage of Winterhold’s daughter, standing there across the road with wide eyes and a fried pastry dangling between gloved fingers. The sudden ice that gripped Leara’s lungs at the thought of Bishop finding her so soon was banished at once: Most of the time, she wasn’t even sure he remembered her name – actually, she knew he didn’t, because she heard him call her Ellen to the barkeep when they stopped at the inn in Heljarchen after leaving the Tower of Mzark. That should bother her, shouldn’t it? she realized, watching Jolinar Aren wave her over.

Burying the thought in the growing mountain of internalized feelings she didn’t want to deal with yet, Leara joined the golden-haired Dunmer under a flame-patterned awning. Then Leara got a good, proper look at the mage: Whereas in Winterhold, Jolinar wore dark, dusty purple robes glittering with enchantments, now she wore worn leather armor, the faded black broken up by glimpses of pale pinks from her otherwise traditional Dunmeri wrap blouse. A knit scarf was tucked around her neck, and a hood was thrown back off her morning-bright hair. After all, even in summer, northern Skyrim was ruled by harsh weather and freezing temperatures. 

“You can’t imagine how excited I am to see you!” Jolinar was saying. “When you went into the ice fields after the scroll, well, Urag figured you and that boy toy of yours were as good as dead!”

“Boy toy?” echoed Leara. 

Jolinar waggled pale ashen fingers. “Bit pretty, isn’t he? Where is he, anyway? Actually, I’d rather know if you ever found the scroll. Urag and I have a bet running, you see. He thinks you wouldn’t find one. I disagreed, naturally! So?”

Leara gaped at her, then shut her mouth. “I, I did find what I was looking for. It’s at, it’s safe,” she amended quickly. As safe as any priceless artifact could be under the guard of an ancient dragon, she mused, recalling how the Elder Scroll remained at the Throat of the World with Paarthurnax. Yes, that was the safest place for it.

An excited, “Oh!” chirped out of Jolinar. Leara couldn’t think of her as anything but chipper, sunny and cheerful like blackberry wine put up in summer and brought out during the holidays. 

Thoughts of the Throat of the World recalled Leara to the task at hand. Her meeting with the Jarl. She almost dreaded this meeting with Ulfric more than she had the one with Balgruuf! “Pardon, but Jolinar? Do you happen to know the way to the Palace of the Kings?”

“Ah,” Jolinar quirked her head to the side. “Yes, of course. Follow me,” and with her half-eaten pastry, she directed their path down the winding street. “Dragonborn business?” 

“You could say that,” Leara offered a tentative but thankful smile. Despite all Bishop’s badgering, she still hadn’t explained the purpose behind their visit to Windhelm or the pending trip to Solitude. Knowing him, he’d snap out something that would lead to an argument not dissimilar to the one simmering between them before Alec’s oh so timely interruption earlier. But Jolinar Aren? Teeth kneaded the end of her tongue, then Leara, nodding to herself, her decision made. 

Quickening her pace, Leara waved her fingers for Karnwyr and moved to walk beside Jolinar. The blonde led her down a short stair, passed a porch lined with earthenware painted in fiery reds and blazing oranges. Whereas the rest of Windhelm seemed to reflect the hardy yet frostbitten spirit of the Nords, the Grey Quarter was lit with the ancestral fires of the Dunmer, kept burning even in their exile. Respect for their resilience and defiance squeezed Leara’s heart, though not uncomfortably.

“The Greybeards are calling for a peace council,” she murmured, voice pitched low enough so as not to be overheard by the occasional person on the street. There weren’t many out; Dunmer were less inclined than Nords to brave the dreary conditions of a north-born storm just for a bit of shopping. 

To her credit, Jolinar’s only reaction to this apparently unprecedented move was a quick dart shot from garnet eyes toward Leara. “Then you’ve got your task cut out for you,” she sighed.

“Tell me about it.”

The street curved toward the left. The houses there were rather large, taller and terraced compared to those deeper in the quarter. House and tribe banners hung from windows and balconies, creating a dusk and dawn patchwork against the otherwise drab canvas of wood and stone. From a shuttered window, the faint trill of a pipe slipped out, entwining with the droning of an unknown string instrument. From a window across the way, the tantalizing scent of baking bread teased at her nose, richer and more savory than the buttery smells she was used to from bakeries in High Rock. 

“They were manor houses, once,” Jolinar explained, noting Leara’s interest. On one of the lower balconies, an old Dunmer wrapped in a thin shawl sat, smoking a bone pipe. On spying Jolinar, he sent her a jaunty wave. She returned it, no less enthusiastic, before continuing: “They’re mostly tenements now. Almost anyone rich enough to afford a manor in Windhelm can afford to move to Blacklight.”

“I didn’t think the Jarl’s steward handled apartment leases.”

“He doesn’t. All the court cares about are taxes and that we keep our heads down. The Dunmer here answer first to a council. It’s not that different to the one back in Morrowind, only a thousand times smaller and less ostentatious, not to mention,” added Jolinar, “Ambarys runs a tight ship. No in-fighting, or at least, none that the Nords are allowed to see.” This last she said in a conspiratorial whisper, a grin curling her frosted berry mouth that Leara couldn’t help but share.

Suddenly she wished that she met Jolinar before Bishop. She was cheerful and full of local knowledge. With Jolinar, there would be no brooding silences or sarcastic remarks; instead, good humor and wry smiles would liven up the bleak travels across Skyrim. And, Leara thought ruefully, another mage would be more likely to understand her methods. But, no, she couldn’t blame Bishop’s attitude on his mundanity. Goodness knows there were plenty of mundane people untouched by magic who were far kinder and certainly more tolerable than Bishop usually was! Regardless, Leara was certain that with Jolinar, there would be nothing but lighthearted companionship in place of Bishop’s advances. 

“Up through here,” Jolinar was saying, turning sharply to the left. Leara hurried after her, up the narrow-wide stairs and out onto the Avenue of Valor. High above, the Palace of the Kings rose as a mountain unto itself against the ever-darkening backdrop of storm clouds. Leara prayed to Kynareth that it wasn’t an omen for the direction her meeting would take. “And here we are,” Jolinar said, clearly not as bothered as Leara was. 

The Dragonborn set her shoulders, her spine stiff. “Thank you—”

But Jolinar was gone. 

Blinking, Leara glanced back at the stairs winding down into the Grey Quarter, then at the towering pillars marking the avenue from the maze of streets crisscrossing the Stone Quarter. But the golden Dunmer was nowhere in sight. A little putout, Leara strode toward the palace.

“I’m here to see the Jarl,” she said to the guards standing sentinel by the doors, her voice frost. The guards glanced at one another in silent communication. Their cage helmets weren’t much different from those worn by the Whiterun guards, Leara noted as one nodded, stiff, and the other pulled open one of the doors. “Thank you,” she said, striding passed with Karnwyr on her heels.

Neither said a word, and Leara wondered if they knew who she was.

Immediately, she decided it didn’t matter. Less chance of embarrassment.

The great hall was as cold and imposing as on her previous visit without the added benefit of dinner to warm the atmosphere. Once again, she sought out the throne, only to find it empty. Behind her, the door shut with a hard snap! that eclipsed her weary sigh. He could never make her job easy, could he?

Out of a side passage stepped the steward, and a sense of déjà vu tapped Leara on the forehead as, upon spying her, he made his way across the hall.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” he asked, eyeing her silver plate and katana warily.

Oh, of course. Whereas Jolinar met her before in armor, the steward, Jorleif, had only met her once, and then in a dress with her hair down. Leara pushed the cowl down and, throwing back the hood, offered the man a petal thin smile. “Yes, I was hoping to speak to Jarl Ulfric. Is he available?”

Surprise colored Jorleif’s face. Giving his long mustache an absent tug, he nodded. “Jarl Ulfric is with his generals, but I’m sure he has a moment to spare for the Dragonborn. This way.”

“Of course.” And beckoning to Karnwyr, Leara followed Jorleif as he led her through a different passage than the one leading to the gallery of kings. This one was much shorter, and opened into a low, brightly lit room crowded with barrels and chests. Weapon and armor racks cradling shining steel were clustered around the small windows, dim and frosted over against the increment weather. But these drew little attention away from the room’s primary feature. Dominating the center was a heavy table, strewn with parchment rolls and loose-leaf pages that no doubt contained reports on Imperial movements and the latest on resources and recruitment. But the most striking feature was the great map of Skyrim, marked with a number of flags in red and blue, which denoted the movements of the Imperial and Stormcloak militaries. This was the war room, the heart of the Stormcloaks’ campaign, and Leara just walked right in. As if she belonged.

Perhaps, because she was the Dragonborn, some might think she did. Or at least Jorleif seemed to think so. She wondered if General Tullius and the Legion might feel similarly when she arrived in Solitude. 

“Jorleif, what is this?”

“The Dragonborn, my Jarl.”

Leara’s gaze sprang from the table to the occupants of the room. Two men were crowded at one end of the table, both shrouded in heavy furs that made their resemblance to bears uncanny. Yet, it was the bear himself that drew Leara’s attention. Lifting her chin in a manner painfully reminiscent of Her, Leara met his storm cloud stare across the room where he stood, hands braced against the table. Once again Ulfric Stormcloak was before her, and she would weather the gale. 

The bob of her head was a measured motion that never cut the view she held of Ulfric’s face. In the mixed torchlight and pale grey light pushing through the snow-crusted windows, he gave off none of the tempered humor that surrounded him on the night of the performance. And yet, there was a quiet light in his eyes, the promise of sun after the rain. For some reason, that eased the tension in Leara’s shoulders.

“Dragonborn, yes,” Ulfric tilted his head, a small motion that carried all the invitation required. “Your presence is timely. Once again, I didn’t expect you, and yet here you are, alone. Good. That will be all, Jorleif,” he added, and with a murmur of respect, the steward left. 

“You may disagree, Jarl Ulfric, after you hear what I came to say,” she said, eyeing the war plans strewn along the table. A shift in her periphery pulled her attention to one of the generals, the one wearing a bear’s head on his own. He was watching her. Nonchalant, Leara continued, “I come bearing a message from the Greybeards.”

Ulfric straightened, “So the dark state of our homeland has finally drawn their attention from the skies.” His mouth twisted, sardonic. “Tell me, what do they say?”

 Giving Ulfric her full attention, Leara cleared her throat. “They request that you attend a peace council at High Hrothgar—”

“A what?” coughed the man with the bear helm.

“—to address the dragons plaguing Skyrim—”

“They cannot be serious! The Empire is tearing Skyrim apart and the Greybeards call for peace?” the helmless general snarled, slamming his fist on the table. Leara jolted back. 

“Yrsarald!” Ulfric snapped, “Mark how you speak. The Greybeards are not to be disrespected.”

“Yes, my Jarl,” Yrsarald said, though he didn’t appear cowed at all.

Turning back to Leara, Ulfric continued, “I do not question the Greybeards lightly. I am well aware that the dragons are a growing threat. But there is the political climate to consider. As long as some of the Jarls aren’t fully committed to supporting me as High King, I can’t agree to any peace talks. I cannot afford to weaken my stance before them. Not unless Tullius himself agrees to be there.”

Resentment and respect wound together inside Leara in a bittersweet union. Politics. Everything under Magnus came back to bloody politics and bleeding shows of strength between opposing factions. Peace begged a hard price, and Leara was exhausted trying to cover the cost. “Politics will soon lose all power if the dragons aren’t dealt with. You may wish to reconsider.”

“Why is that?” asked the helmeted general.

“Alduin has returned.”

He swore, and Yrsarald again slammed his fist on the table. Ulfric remained still, almost stiffening. “Alduin? The World-Eater himself? Then if the tales and songs are true . . .”

“They are,” Leara said, breath quickening as the memories of smoke and blood clogged her nose and coated her mouth. The battle at the Throat of the World blazed in shards of painful memory across her mind’s eye. “It was Alduin at Helgen.”

“Was it?” Ulfric’s storm-blue eyes clouded, likely lost in recollections.

“If Alduin has returned, as you say, then we’re all doomed anyway,” Yrsarald grunted. “But suppose you’re wrong, Dragonborn. What use is there in talking to the Empire? They’re being devastated by the dragons.”

“So are we!” the bear helmed general growled, his mustache twitching.

Leara bit back a sneer just as Karnwyr bristled beside her. Is the return of Alduin really that impossible to accept? “If left to their own devices, the dragons will destroy all Skyrim, Imperial and Stormcloak alike!”

“You’ve made your point, Dragonborn,” Ulfric said, raising a hand to silence Yrsarald in turn. He frowned, troubled. “So, the World-Eater has returned and the Greybeards believe the answer is to call for peace. But war or peace, Alduin will consume us all just the same. Everything is already lost.” 

“Not as long as I’m here,” Leara heard herself say. Then Ulfric was eyeing her, and the weight of her destiny pressed down on her shoulders. Did he doubt her ability to face Alduin? To match the World-Eater in battle and bring an end to the crisis? If so, then she couldn’t blame him. After her muck-up of the meeting at the Throat of the World, Leara knew her chances of victory were narrow, if they existed at all. But still, she was doom-driven. “There is hope.” Though she didn’t have much hope for herself, Leara would give it to the people of Skyrim if she could. 

Ulfric was silent. The moment stretched on, then, “Galmar, what say you?”

The helmeted general, Galmar, folded his arms, a dark look on his face. “Talking to the Empire is worse than a waste of time. No good could ever come from it. But,” he went on, “no good ever came letting sleeping dragons ie, either. If the Dragonborn here thinks she can handle the World-Eater, who are we to stop her?”

“Sooner the dragons are gone, the sooner we put down the Imperials ourselves,” Yrsarald muttered, earning an “Aye,” from Galmar. 

With a tired smile, Ulfric nodded to himself. “I won’t refuse the Greybeards’ request,” he said. “And I’ll give Tullius one last chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs while I’m at it. He has agreed to attend?” he asked Leara suddenly.

“Well—” 

A scuffle of boots in the corridor cut Leara off as a man appeared in the doorway. Wearing the blue and steel that the Windhelm guard shared with the Stormcloak soldiers, Leara’s attention was pulled to the open face of his helmet where a brilliant red sheen on his left cheek anticipated a vivid bruise. His eyes on Ulfric, the guard bowed his head in difference. “My Jarl, Generals,” he said. He cast a glance at Leara in her silver armor and frowned to himself.

“Speak, Calder,” Ulfric said, snapping the guard’s attention to him. 

Calder bowed his head again, “My Jarl, I’m sorry for the interruption, but there’s a situation in the jail, and Captain Logi said to get you.”

Lifting a brow, Ulfric’s mouth drew a thoughtful line just as Galmar said, “Logi doesn’t usually have a problem knocking scum back down where it belongs. What’s happened?”

Calder cleared his throat, his eyes darting back to Leara and then to Karnwyr before trailing back to the Dragonborn. When she tilted her chin, watching him, the guard dropped his gaze to the floor. “There was an . . . altercation at the gates not twenty minutes ago.”

Dread pooled in the pit of Leara’s stomach. Surely not . . .?

“The guardsmen on duty broke it up, but not before some bard got beat in the nose. We hauled the assailant in, threw him in a cell to cool him down, if you follow, my Jarl.” Facing the guard as she was, Leara caught the slight upturn of Ulfric’s mouth from the corner of her eye. So, the Windhelm jail was as cold as a Frost Atronach’s bits, then. Lovely. “He got a good hit in on me before we got him in, though.” Ulfric’s mouth fell, and Calder quieted.

“Is that all?” Galmar asked, gruff. “What’s there to involve Jarl Ulfric over?”

“The man we brought in, he won’t stop shouting for the Dragonborn. Says she’ll have something to say about us locking him up. Says she’ll make us ‘pay.’”

Her muscles tensed. No. No bloody way! That complete and absolute cretin! That utter idiot! Did he really attack Alec? In the street where everyone and their ancestor could see it? And then he threatened the guards. Akatosh, but it was a wonder she hadn’t heard Bishop’s caterwauling as he was hauled in! Ice stung her palms and her teeth clenched. Did he honestly believe her purpose in Windhelm carried so little weight that he could antagonize the city guard without a second thought? Did he ever stop to think about the consequences or what they might do to her? No! This, this was an embarrassment. This was ridiculous!

By Akatosh, she was going to have to pay bail, wasn’t she? Divines damn it all. 

“Take me to him,” fell from her mouth, her voice bringing with it the frost of winter. 

Calder gaped at her. 

“Listen to her, Calder, this woman’s the Dragonborn,” Ulfric directed, his face drawn and closed off. If Leara wasn’t already mad at Bishop, she’d wonder at the sharp change in his countenance. As it was, Bishop consumed all her thoughts. Just like the imbecile wanted. 

Karnwyr growled deep in his throat, and in the back of her mind, Leara realized that the wolf was as agitated as she was, and perhaps more so with how sudden her change in mood was. Losing her temper would get none of them anywhere. Her eyes closed, Leara counted back from ten in Altmeris, Bretic, and Cyrodilic, and then, not knowing the number system used by the dragons, she instead focused on the words Paarthurnax had taught her to meditate over. Feim. Zii. Feim. Zii. Fade. Spirit. As the first thaw after winter, tension eased from her limbs in a slow drip that left lingering traces of permafrost still clinging to her bones. Drawing in a frozen breath, Leara tuned back in just as Ulfric directed the two Generals to continue going over supply routes without him. And then he was walking to the door, Calder in his wake, and Leara found herself pulled along in the tailwind. 

All was quiet between them as the guard escorted them through winding passages and under stone arches to the Windhelm Jail. Situated clear across the palace from the war room, Leara felt the last of her anger give way to the growing familiarity of exhaustion. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold on to the blizzard scream howling to blister Bishop. Helpless, she watched it wither away into a pale and tired rain. When she saw Bishop, Leara . . . Leara didn’t know what she’d do. And that bothered her.

Far too soon, they reached a wide stairwell, blocked by a heavy cell-like door. Before Calder could move, Ulfric pulled it open, and then he stopped. Until now, as they traveled through the palace, Leara could hardly bring herself to watch his back, but now she had no choice but to face the grim set to his mouth and the clouds shadowing his face. The cool stare she leveled him with betrayed none of the returned anxiety over his anger. Again, Leara regretted the lost letter. Again, she regretted snubbing him and whatever he meant to discuss with her. She regretted coming to Windhelm and she regretted thinking she could handle politics again after all this time. 

“After you, Dragonborn,” his voice was stone.

“Certainly.” Her spine iron and her chin pointed, Leara swept past Ulfric and down the stairs without a second glance. When a genuine approach no longer served, subterfuge and sleight of hand were a safety net. Wasn’t it ironic how lessons learned while with the Dominion carried forward to help her handle their most hated asset?

At the base of the stairs was another door, this one of aged cold oak. She could already hear Bishop’s shouting as she stood there. Beside her, Karnwyr whined deep in his throat, as agitated with his master as she was. Akatosh give her patience. Scarcely did the Jarl and his guardsman reach the bottom of the stairs before Leara threw open the door and strode into the jail. 

“—ME OUT, YOU SON OF—” 

Two guards sat at a low wooden table, his head down, evidently suffering through the abuse blaring through an archway across the room. This must be the guardroom, Leara mused as she took in the cluttered desk and locked cabinet across the room. A board hung on the wall, crowded with bounty posts and notices. There were other doors as well: One probably opened to the captain’s office, while another likely connected to the guard barracks. She wondered how old this jail was. How long had the Jarls of Windhelm been locking up criminals and thugs here? Was it always a jail, or did it have another purpose long ago, maybe as a scullery or servant quarters? However, given the Nords’ penchant for tradition, she imagined Ysgramor himself appointed the first guard captain here and set today’s standards himself. 

At the sight of Ulfric behind her, the guard quickly stood. “Jarl Ulfric,” he said, relieved. “Is this--?”

“The Dragonborn, yes. Where is Captain Logi?”

“I’M GOING TO TEAR YOU A NEW ONE AS SOON AS I—”

The guard cleared his throat, twice. “He’s with the prisoner.”

“What are you going to do, Jarl Ulfric?” Calder asked. His cheek was darkening, inflamed and swollen. Leara almost winced in sympathy.

“AND I’LL MAKE YOU GAG AS I FORCE MY—”

The urge to walk away was strong, but almost against her will, Leara stepped forward. “I’ll take care of it. Just take me to him.”

“This way,” the guardsman began, but Ulfric stopped him. 

“Arne, go with Calder to have his injury tended,” he said, and Arne the guard – because the Palace did not breathe without the Jarl’s ascent, it seemed – gave a quick salute before he and Calder disappeared back up into the palace. 

Leara stared at the cracked stones tenuously forming the far wall. Windhelm was so old, the oldest city of men yet inhabited. It would be nothing for it to give way to dust. And yet, it wouldn’t. These walls would continue to weather storm and ice long after she passed into legend and Ulfric Stormcloak became a footnote in history.

“—ASSKISSING RAT—”

She prayed to all the Divines and some of the Altmer deities besides that no one bothered remembering this episode. 

She was keenly aware of the man behind her and his displeasure. A passing thought whispered that he might back out of the peace talks following Bishop’s display, but the rational – hopeful – part of her knew that Ulfric respected the Greybeards too much to go back on his word now. Not when he’d given it in front of his generals.

“You know, Dragonborn, I consider myself to be a reasonable man,” he said, cutting through the sounds of Bishop’s squalling. “But I can’t seem to figure out what you’re playing at.”

Slow and prim, Leara turned. “You assume that I believe this is some game in the first place. I assure you I don’t.”

Ulfric paced toward her, taller than her, but Leara was used to looking up at people who thought they were better than her. She didn’t flinch. “You leave me no choice when you insist on bringing that—”

“—THEN I’LL CUT YOUR DICK OFF AND FEED IT—”

“—skeever-faced milkdrinker into my city to assault my citizens and wreak havoc in my palace,” Ulfric continued, heated. “You bring him here, disregarding all sensibility, and yet you expect me to heed your advice and to place the wellbeing of Skyrim into your hands!”

She did not want to have this discussion. She refused to be cowed by a man she once had on the rack – no matter how she regretted those actions. “Given the state of things, you don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” she clipped. 

The clouds darkening Ulfric’s face deepened. “Perhaps, and perhaps my council isn’t worth much to you, but I would advise you to remember that as Dragonborn, you are the people’s hero, and the minds of the masses are fickle. It may be your destiny to defeat the World-Eater, but that will do you no good if the people cannot trust you.”

Lips thin, Leara barely gave him a curt nod, “Noted,” and turning her back on the Jarl, she marched toward the cells, a silent Karnwyr trailing behind. It took all her prayed-for grace to enter the cellblock with Bishop before her and Ulfric behind her, and yet by Akatosh, she did it, her face an impassive stone. The temperature seemed to drop as she entered a large, dimly lit room: Whereas the guardroom had a burning hearth and was well-stocked with wood, the cellblock had nothing of the kind. Calder was right; it was freezing down here. The man she assumed was Captain Logi wore a fur-lined cloak over his armor. He stood across from the entrance with his arms crossed and a “Talos take me now” kind of expression on his chapped face. At the sight of Leara and Ulfric, he straightened. 

“Jarl Ulfric, is this her?” Captain Logi asked, jutting his chin at Leara. With the movement, Leara noticed a woolly wad sticking out of his ear. So that was how he withstood Bishop’s abuse, by quite literally blocking it. 

Before Ulfric could answer, Bishop noticed just who came into the room, and, cutting himself off mid-remark about bedding Logi’s “pox-ridden” mother, leered at Leara through the bars of his cell. “Well, well! Look who finally decided to grace me with her presence! And here I thought you’d forgotten about me while you were sweettalkin’ your way into Stormcuck’s bed. Did he get your sword, too, or did he just settle for a taste of—”

Ulfric’s shout and Logi’s yelp were the only warning bells to sound before Leara flew across the room. Bishop was the only prisoner in holding, and right now he was the only person in her crosshairs. With a cold fury, she shot a hand into the cell and caught Bishop about the collar. Frost spread from her fingers to the dark leather, harsh and biting as it crept to his skin. “Be quiet,” she hissed, low and soft like a blanketing snowfall, so silent that only Bishop could hear her. “You are on thin ice as it is. I won’t ask what you were thinking, because clearly you were not, but if you want out of here, it would behoove you to think about the person holding the purse strings and your freedom in her hands.”

Ice tickled at the skin of Bishop’s neck and her grip, white-knuckled under her gloves, was close to strangling the ranger on his own collar. Yet the smirk he leveled her with was nothing short of cocksure arrogance. “If they knew the truth, it wouldn’t be me they’d have locked up in this skeever-infested hole.”

Just as quickly as the ice spread from her fingers, it sped even faster through her blood to chill her heart. “What are you talking about?”

Bishop’s smirk twisted. “If they knew what you are, you’d be in here until that pretty face of yours was ruined by age.”

What she was?

“Dragonborn, what is this?” Ulfric Stormcloak’s voice came from behind, far away across the room and yet clarity struck Leara between the eyes like lightning. What she was. The Aldmeri Dominion. But how did, how could Bishop possibly even know about that? Where had she made a mistake? At the College, when she ran into that Thalmor wizard? But even then, she’d been careful not to let on to Ancano who she was! Bishop couldn’t have pieced it together from that exchange. But how else—? No, no, did she talk in her sleep? She didn’t, did she? Even the best of operatives might be given away by a murmur in the night, but she never knew herself to do so. But everyone started at some point, didn’t they? Mara’s mercies, Bishop knew that she was once in the Dominion and she knew he was just petty enough to use that against her if she left him here. 

And then Ulfric would have her killed. 

That old terror coiled itself around her heart again, cradling it in a vice so tight that for a moment, Leara couldn’t breathe. 

“Dragonborn?”

The vice tightened, forcing Leara to exhale. Her hand, cold and cramping, fell from Bishop’s neck. It smacked against one of the bars on its way back to her side, and Leara noticed for the first time how the still-damaged nerves of her hands were screaming. She swallowed. “How much is bail?”

“What?” Captain Logi asked. 

With short jerking movements, Leara slowly stepped away from the cell. “How much is bail?”

The captain gaped at her, then to Ulfric. He was watching Leara with a closed expression; his arms were crossed in silent judgment. Her earlier pretense gone, Leara couldn’t meet his gaze. Not after what Bishop said. Not with what Ulfric may yet do to her. Her head bowed, Leara slipped across the room. Even Karnwyr was watching her, the wolf’s ears flat and his eyes almost teary. “Please, let me pay his bail, and then we will leave Windhelm. I’m sorry for the grievances we’ve caused for you and your people. Forgive me, it will not happen again.”

Ulfric was silent, and anxiety ate at Leara’s nerves. Then, “Captain Logi will accept the payment. Logi, go with her.”

“Aye, Jarl Ulfric.” Confusion mixed with relief on the captain’s face. “This way, ma’am.”

Leara dared a glimpse at Ulfric as she followed Captain Logi in silence. He didn’t look at her. She didn’t want him to. With Bishop’s eyes burning into her from across the room, she wanted as much distance as she could possibly get placed between her and the man she tortured.

“I’ll be waiting, sweetness!” Bishop called after her. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

Leara wanted to disappear. 

·•★•·

“How much is bail?”

“What?”

The Dragonborn jerked back from the cell, and for the first time since she’d charged forward, Ulfric could make out the self-satisfaction pinching the ranger’s face. Seeing the way the other man’s gaze followed the Dragonborn reminded Ulfric of a wolf stalking an injured doe. No matter how far she ran, her wound would always fell her and call the wolf to her side. Comparing the memory of the woman who threw her arms around the man, this Bishop, after the bard’s circus with the woman shrinking into herself, Ulfric began to wonder if his impression that the Dragonborn was infatuated with the menace was incorrect. 

“How much is bail?” she asked again. The Dragonborn stood facing him, but she was far away. Her eyes were haunted, the bright blue from before now dull and weary. Faded. Ulfric studied her. She came on behalf of the Greybeards, claiming to fight for Skyrim. And yet, her disregard for counsel and persistence in keeping a man like Bishop around when she visited the Holds suggested she was flippant about her appointment as Dragonborn. But now Ulfric couldn’t reconcile such an attitude with the woman who quietly assured them that she would defeat the World-Eater. The woman who offered hope.

“Please, let me pay his bail, and then we will leave Windhelm. I’m sorry for the grievances we’ve caused for you and your people. Forgive me, it will not happen again.”

The fragile plea struck him. She wouldn’t meet his eye; instead, her head remained bowed, cascading the deep red hair too short to tuck into her bun forward to shroud her. She was hiding. Somehow, then, Ulfric knew that it wasn’t the Dragonborn who chose to keep Bishop around. For whatever reason, this man attached himself to the Dragonborn and was draining her vitality through his own brand of poison. 

“Captain Logi will accept the payment,” he said at length. “Logi, go with her.”

“Aye, Jarl Ulfric,” Logi nodded, his relief at getting rid of Bishop clear. “This way, ma’am.”

The Dragonborn trailed after Logi, appearing as if she were in a daze. Ulfric wondered if she was. The way a few whispered words from Bishop seemed to turn a roaring dragon into a skittish deer was unsettling. The more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable Ulfric became with the idea of actually letting the man go. But Logi was already leading the Dragonborn away to pay the bail. Bishop would be released and Ulfric would watch as the Dragonborn left in his company. With how fast she wilted when faced with Bishop in the cell, Ulfric wondered if the elven woman would be able to make it to the Greybeards’ peace council. 

“Are you going to let me out or are you going to continue brooding like a teenager?” Bishop’s voice cut in. 

Ulfric leveled the man with a glare. “Your fine hasn’t been paid yet, boy. Hold your tongue.”

“Angry, are you?” Bishop snorted. “Her ladyship not get you off?”

“What.”

Harsh laughter echoed in the small cell, grating. “I don’t get what she sees in you, but something about you’s got her knickers all twisted up.” Fire flared in the returning glare. “Whatever it is has made it damn near impossible to claim that woman as mine!” He snarled and struck his fist against the cell wall. “Get out of her head! She’s not fighting in your damn war for your weak god!”

It took every ounce of patience Ulfric possessed to keep from reaching through the bars and slamming the ranger’s skull into the hard iron. He drew in a slow, meditative breath, and held it. He would not murder a prisoner in his own jail. To occupy himself, Ulfric retrieved the key ring from its hook near the door. Logi should be back soon with the Dragonborn, and then this business would be over. 

“Got nothing to say to that, do you?” sneered Bishop. Did he not know when to shut up? Given the pitch and content of Bishop’s earlier screeching, it wasn’t likely. Ulfric wondered vaguely if Bishop talked while eating. The same way Galmar’s brother did, with food spraying from his mouth and mead dripping down his chin. “Is she even your type? Do you like pretty little elf maids? Or do you prefer one of those strapping blonds fighting for you? Flexing in uniform.”

“Hold your tongue,” Ulfric snapped.

“Oh-ho-ho! He speaks! What was it, the idea that you thirst after your soldiers—” Bishop cut himself off. “No, I know what it is. You want her. You want what every red-blooded man wants from her. You want that woman in your bed, under you, as you play out some sick power fantasy with her. What are you going to do, tie her up like the elven whore she is? Pretend she’s that hag-faced ambassador and beat the crap outta her? Ha!”

The key turned in the lock before Ulfric realized he’d marched across the room and inserted it. Then the cell door was open, and nothing stood between him and the wretch. 

A resounding crack! filled the small space as Ulfric slammed Bishop into the back wall. Bishop’s head bounced, hard, but the twisted smirk never left his stubbled face. Bishop was tall, but Ulfric still had an inch or so on him. This he used to yank Bishop up so he was scrabbling against the wall for stability. “Quiet.”

“I knew it,” Bishop wheezed, his hands pawing at the steely grip Ulfric held on his collar. “You’re nothing but another power-hungry noble with a chip on his shoulder. Newsflash, asshole: No one cares about your war, least of all her—”

Another knock against the wall pushed the air from Bishop’s lungs. 

“Learn to be quiet before someone grows tired of your whinging and silences you permanently!”

“Who’s going to do it, you?” Bishop rolled his head back against the wall. “Flattering, but I’m not interested.”

Bracing his arms against the wretch’s chest, Ulfric pushed him into the hard stone. “You have attacked my people, assaulted my guards, and insulted me to my face. But more than that, you continually abuse the Dragonborn, the same woman who wants to free you. Have you no shame?”

“What’s there to be ashamed of? She’s mine, she’ll do whatever I want.”

Except sleep with you, Ulfric thought, recalling the earlier admission. He scowled.

“You know what I think?” continued Bishop. “You want her, but you’re not man enough to take her. You couldn’t handle a fox like her,” Bishop chortled.

“Jarl Ulfric?” Captain Logi had returned. 

Before the guard captain saw him physically assaulting a regretfully free man, Ulfric dumped the sorry excuse of a Nord on the dirt-strewn floor. Scrambling to his feet, Bishop darted ahead of him out of the cell. 

Captain Logi stood back at the door, alone. “The Dragonborn’s upstairs waiting with your stuff,” he told Bishop, ignoring the deep scowl cutting the ranger’s face as he brushed loose straw from his tussled hair. "You better thank Talos that Leara was so willing to cover for you.” 

“What? Whatever. I’m outta here.”

Leara? Up until now, Ulfric hadn’t realized he’d never known the Dragonborn’s name. Leara. An airy name. 

“Boy,” he said. Yet Bishop would’ve kept going if Logi hadn’t barred his way. Grumbling, the ranger stopped. “Remember this. A day will come when I have you in these cells again, and when I do, the Dragonborn’s good favor won’t save you.”

Another cold laugh. “Fat chance! I’d like to see you try.”

Logi bristled, but Ulfric shook his head. Then the ranger disappeared up the stairs, back to the Dragonborn – Leara’s side.

The image left in his mind was dark and unsettling. All Ulfric could do now was pray to Talos that his foreboding was ill-founded. 

·•★•·

They left Windhelm as the bottom broke and freezing rain fell in torrents across Eastmarch. A mage’s cloak and whispered Bretic rune would���ve kept the worst of the water off her, but Leara could hardly muster the energy to keep moving. Magic was beyond her ability to care. The most she could manage was some household spell usually used to keep plates warm. This she focused on Karnwyr, who, with his drooping head and dripping fur, looked just as miserable as she felt.

Bishop marched ahead of her, his face dark and silent. Whatever happened after she left to pay his bail was a mystery. She didn’t dare to ask. All she knew was Bishop came stalking out of the cell block with his jacket in disarray and a scowl so fierce it’d scare a Frost Troll. She couldn’t bring herself to ask about it, nor about anything else. The realization that Bishop knew she was once an officer in the Aldmeri Dominion was still too raw for her to address. Even as an undercover Blades agent, the actions she carried out under the direction of her superiors in the Dominion would have her labeled a criminal here. It would be the same if she were anywhere else, perhaps Solitude or Daggerfall or Bruma, and they discovered she was a Knight Sister. Leara was damned either way.

If Alduin had his way, she’d be damned in every way.

When they stopped for the night under an outcropping of rock flanked by several snow-laden pines, Leara approached Bishop. Knots twisted her stomach in every direction. She wanted to throw up. Instead, she sat and watched him sharpen one of his knives, waiting for him to acknowledge her. 

“Something on your mind, darling?” he asked, humorless.

Leara suppressed a nervous cough. “The Greybeards are hosting a peace conference in order to negotiate a temporary truce in the Civil War. I need them to stop fighting to secure Jarl Balgruuf’s cooperation.”

“What do you need him for?” Bishop didn’t look up as he passed the whetstone along the blade’s edge in a rhythmic pattern. It would have been mesmerizing if Leara weren’t so on edge. 

“I—” Need to trap a dragon in Dragonsreach so I can find Alduin’s portal to Sovngarde so I can end this crisis once and for all. I may die.

“Spit it out, sweetness. I haven’t got all night!”

But she couldn’t. Leara couldn’t bring herself to confess the plan to trap a dragon and fight Alduin again. Not when she knew all too well Bishop’s opinion of her Divines-ordained destiny. She couldn’t. Not after the day she’d had. So, instead, she pushed herself forward, and, mindful of the knife, Leara pressed her lips to his. Tangling her hand in his hair, she pushed him back, muffling his surprise and the memory of their conversation with her mouth. 

Long after, when the petting was over and Bishop was asleep, Leara curled into Karnwyr and cried.

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

Some songs I associate w/ MVT characters :0

Astra: Gold Guns Girls by Metric

Mara: Mr. Fear by SIAMES

Kate: Boy in a Bubble by Alec Benjamin

Dresden: Policy of Truth by Depeche Mode

Fear Herself: Monster by Bemax

[lakesbian]

General thoughts about the reveal on who the Maggie in the Toronto arc was?

Also general thoughts on the arc?

i think its fun that she and blake are both connected (& she's the last tether blake has to anyone knowing he exists) via having both slipped through the cracks due to Whoopsie-Daisies. also say what u will about literally everything else in wb's writing but i like how girls in wildbow novels are more often than not grungy and a little weird. already talked abt the goblin thing some in the last maggiepost but i do really like the goblins. "pure distillations of the dirty abandoned scraps of the world which exist solely to kick you when you're down" is an extremely coherent and fun spin on goblins. the constant "fat = gross" associations are insufferable but the rest is solid. the padraic thing isn't one of the iterations of maggie's prophecy but it does feel fitting for her character that the girl who was initially inducted into being a practitioner via living somewhere that was slipping thru the cracks was fucked over for a Second time via slipping thru the cracks. i hope she is fucked over a Third time by it for rule of three. also i was in fact correct previously when i said this:

i also think she’s probably still in over her head without realizing. she’s manipulated into ordering someone’s murder and then is like “you know i think i can make up for this one AND go on a fun little adventure to add to my scrapbook of knowledge at the same time.” that’s not how reality works! you killed someone! and then tried to semi-earnestly befriend slash mooch from their cousin! she’s only been a practitioner for six months–i think there’s a very fundamental disconnect btwn the maggie that’s lucky enough to still have parents she can be a normal silly teenager with and the maggie that’s making forays into The World Of Backstabbing, Horror, Murder, and Fates Worse Than Death. and i think that disconnect will result in strain for her as the fact that she’s sort of doomed to do some really awful things, have some really awful things happen to her, and/or both sinks in.

except instead of just Strain. that fact had to sink in via her doing, as sandra put it, the magical equivalent of crashing a car 2 learn respect for the road. YA protagonist maggie holt died in the crash now it's just wannabe goblin queen mags scrambling 4 purchase in the wreckage. i believe in her i hope she captures sooo many crass little creatures. i'm glad that buttcheeks stuck around he's fun to watch :)

i don't feel like we actually know johannes yet. the thing about the really successful practitioners is that they're doing less Desperate Violent Scrabbling to maintain their positions and subsequently have more luxury of ostensible niceties and lofty philosophies. they should throw a bucket of mud on him and toss him to the wolves so i can see what he's like when shit gets real. also the entire arc is a really funny demonstration in how severely being a thorburn has fucked blake over. everyone is sooo much nicer to maggie than him he's out there playing on hard mode. this is what i mean when i say that alec would b a diabolist, diabolism is fundamentally abt when you are marked Rotten by the world by virtue of the family you've been born into, defined more by their legacy than by anything about yourself, even moreso than the other brands of practitionerism.

hmm anything else. oh yeah i think we should flog wildbow for crone mara. ok thats all. OH yeah and Not Being Maggie Holt Anymore is a really funny way to skip out on the other iterations of the prophecy. its that fairy bitch's problem now. i have a lot of thoughts on pact faeries but that's a post for one of the "why are pact creatures good" asks just know i'm rotating them in my mind rapidly

[popculturebuffet]

Thomas And Friends Retrospective: Thomas and the Magic Railroad Theatrical Cut (Commission for Lachie V)

Hello all you happy people and i'ts back on the train gang for more Thomas the Tank Engine

For those of you just joining us, a recap: For the past year and a half or so, i've been covering the first five seasons of thomas the tank engine on and off for @lachievpoststhings, who comissioned these as a fan of the franchise to get an outsider's perspective and hopefully get less jokes about Henry being walled up for always and always. Your free to jump in here and i'll have a post of the restrospective so far soon after this review's finished.

The basics are one day the good Reverend Bawldry, a longtime railway enthusist, made a bedtime story for his son about trains with human faces, kept making more as the kid loved them, and eventually turned these stories into a series of succesful books. Decades later in the 80's, up and coming exec Brit Alcroft seeked to adapt these books to screen and using amazing modelwork, velvety narration from Ringo Starr, George Carlin, Micheal Angelis and more across both ponds, Thomas became a massive success. While his US airings needed a wraparound, it got one in the superb shinging time station, your standard "kids learn lessons in a place" show, except this one has a magical tiny george carlin named Mr Conductor who shows up to give advice and schemer

This glorious large ham cooks up halfbaked schemes, is distrusted by children, and makes every episode better just by existing.

So with this success Brit Alcroftt decided to take her big IP to where all big properties go: the big screen. Luckily for her Barry London, head of Paramount at the time, had a daughter who loved Thomas and greenlight the picture in 1995 with a deal inked by 1996 and a script on the way. Unluckily, sometime after London left the studio and the project was canned because new studio heads are vindictive bastards. See how Final Space was canned after a studio change and goofy movie was given NO advertising after the exec pushing for it left. Thankfully after a false start elsewhere for Alcroftt, she decided to self fiance, finding that the Isle of Mann offered tax breaks. Helping was that London landed at another studio, destination films, so with their major backing and the isle of man cut the film was good to go.

So with that the film got underway and as far as I can tell it was MOSTLY smooth apart from a mishap with a James model.Post.. was a diffrent beast. The film had drastic changes done to it after a test screening caused Execs to panic: they changed most of the voice cast since the voices for most of the main cast were seen as "too old" and the one for one of the big bads, Disel 10 "too scary". That'd be bad enough.. but then they decided to ax an ENTIRE CHARACTER, PT Boomer, who served as a human antagonist.

Shockingly the excutives doing a power meddle did nothing to actually salvage the film: it bombed at the box office, closed the door on any future thomas films and ended Britt Alcroft's time at her own company.

So that leaves us with some questions: Was the film THAT bad? Was the original cut, which we now have thanks to a blu ray specail edition in workprint form, any better? Was their any salvaging this mess or was it always a silly engine? and why was schemer left out?

While i'll never be able to figure out that last question, the rest I hope to answer by tackling both cuts in their own reviews. I'm tackinlg the theatrical first as while it's the second cut, ti's the one most people have seen and i'm not watching the work print till the review of the theatrical cut is finished as i'm judging it as most people watching it would: this is the version that's most complete, wildly avaliable and that most people have seen, so I want to view it on that merit, albeit with the understanding it was cut up quite a bit, so I am giving it a little leeway.

So join me under the cut for the maddening mysteries of the theatrical cut of thomas the tank engine. I warn you the film your about to hear about is nigh incomprehinsible, quite mad, and has alec baldwin acting like h'es taken all the drugs in the world. You've been warned. Let's begin.

So since i've already covered behind the scene's let's jump into the mishmash of scenes hastily cut together then horrifyingcally stitched back together by the studio. Because "Plot" is being more generous than this cut deserves.

So the film follows the fate of two worlds: the world of Shining Time Station and the world of Sodor where thomas and friends live, the two ends of Mr. Conductor's universe. What does that mean?

I think it's supposed to be metaphorical like saying my world.. but having a magical being say that and say that about two parallel worlds is just confusing. Did he create Sodor? Did whatever race the mr conductors are did? This is more confusing than a film about stupid train children should be.

This is also the film's approach to it's world building as a whole: just throw something in that's confusing and hard to parse, never fully explalin it and walk on to the next bit of insanity. I'm not asking for through, complex world building from a Thomas the Tank Engine film, i'm just asking for a world where any of the magic you set up makes any sense.

The two shows this comes from don't have this problem. There is weird shit in both universes.. but both universes are consitent. Sodor is a british island, exists in the 1920's, and has a massive railway ran by Sir Topham "The Fat Controller" hat. The trains all have faces and are wholly sentient and are still treated entirely as trains. That's.. it. It's just the 30's but with sentient trains. It takes getting used to, they cause tons of accidents and weird shit happens.. but it's simple.

Shining time has more magic and what not but it's still consistent: Mr C is a magical entity of some kind with a vast family, he lives in shining time but can travel the multiverse and visits sodor frequently, bringing back it's stories for the kids he mentors. There's also magical puppets in the jukebox. Neither thing is explained, but we really don't need one and how both Mr. C and the PUppets operate is consitent.

The film.. is as consistent as a Warner BRos Discovery exec. The film just sloppily stiches a bunch of magical concepts and cliches together , expects you to just accept it and move on. The problem is unlike thomas and shinging time, it piles so shit on that you have no choice but to ask questions. And yes im aware i'm not the film's target demo.. but the film's target demo, younger children.. still deserve some respect. Shining Time and Thomas never fell like they think the audience is morons and you should never treat children like idiots just to justify your sloppy plotting. And chidlren aside..adults still had to take their kids to this. 5 year olds can't buy movie tickets.. well they can but the theater has to be pretty fucking neglegent. The adults who were kind enough to take their kids to see this didn't deserve to have a confusing mess shoved on them.

Speaking of a confusing mess let's get back to the film. The Film has two major storylines across the two worlds which quickly overlap:

ON earth curious city kid Lily Stone, played by Maura Wilson, is sent to vist her grampy burnett, played by Peter Fonda who to his credit takes the roll seriously. Burnett has an assitant/sidekick/local orphan boy named Mutt who, given the two minutes i've seen of the workprint, marries her in that cut but here is just kinda.. there so Peter Fonda can explain his train backstory: he was once the conductor of Lady, a magical train that could cross betwen worlds and i'm just going to go ahead and get this started

Things the Film Just Wants you To Accept: 2

Lady was injured by Disel 10 , played by Neil crone. I'll point out the original actors when I do the workprint if you were curious. He's an evil Diesel who has a grappling claw and a confusing world domination plan. Burnett's spent his life trying to fix Lady with no luck.

Meanwhile on Sodor, Sir Hatt is going on vacay so he asked Mr. Conductor to go watch his stupid train children for him while he's away. We have a new Mr. C in this film I assume, as while the film never explains it the series did expalin it's swapping mr c's with Ringo Starr's versoin being the cousin of his succesor, the george carlin one. So I assume this is also a cousin as Mr. C also has one he also hands his hat off to. More on that towards the end and more on the ocusin in a bit. Point is new mr. c is played by Alec Baldwin.. and baldwin spends the whole film acting like he's tripping balls. Baldwin is hamming it up so hard trying to be a chldren's character he comes off like Mr. C took enoguh coke before comming to sodor that he dosen't come down for TWO DAYS. Baldwin mostly acts hammily, hyderactively and goofily. It dosen't work on it's own as it's way too over the top even for this film and trying way to hard. It is however a nice jolt of hilaroius nonsense in a film that's mostly confusing nonsense.

Anyways Mr C soon has a problem :his sparkle, his magic dust, is running out. And apparently if it runs out , the magic of sodor and shining time both dies with him. Or something.

Things the Film Just Wants you To Accept: 3

He dosen't notice at first, being late while Thomas and Friends deal with normal business: Thomas is just a tad late, and Gordon, the biggest engine, is being a pompus asshole about it. Gordon is also played by Crone, who adlibbed msot of his lines for both Diesel 10 and Gordon, to the point one line later in the film is just gordon lapsing into a rant about how clever he is, how smaller engines can neve rbe useful, and how he's the best. He did it, he broke Gordon down to his bare essentials.

The two are soon confronted by Disel 10 who someone passed the background check and unveils his plan: he's going to find and kill lady, which will destroy all the magic in sodor and some how make him god emperor of all trains.

Things the Film Just Wants you To Accept: 4

First he plans to kill all the trains and ambushes them at night. Mr C finds his magic isn't working which isn't good. His escape plan is as diabolical as it is horrifying: he's going to poor sugar in disel's gas tank.. by waving a bag of sugar at him

Things the Film just Wants You To Accept: 5

So Mr. C heads off on an epic quest to find his magic, facing off with goblins, a wall of hands, a bog of eternal stentch, chily down with the fire gang and the most dangerous foe of all, David Bowie's Crotch. And I just described Labyrinth because Mr. C's quest amounts to "Dick around looking for clues and get kidnapped by a train" and i'd rather be talking about Labyrinth again... so let's do. Having relistned to it thanks to my nephew putting it on a playlist while I was in the car, i"ve come to realize I was WAY too hard on chilli down. While the actual musical number hasn't aged great the actual music is a fucking banger, having a nice surreal feel, the best drug trip song that's ever drug trip songed. Good stuff.

So back to my neverending torment Mr. C has a nap/is barely concious after Disel nearly threw him off a bridge this time so he has a prophetic dream

Things the Film Just Wants You To Accept: 6

Yes apparently in this time Alec Baldwin is the Kwisatz Haderach

He sees a future where due to him being absent shining time has closed down. The kid are gone, Billy was replaced by a terrible actor, and Schemer is seemingly dead. Wait.. that all happened in the main timeline. How is he sure the interstellar jihad the end of shining time is something he can stop?

Well he isn't so he calls his cousin Mr C Junior for help. Sadly this dosen't mean we get Ringo Starr or George Carlin but instead Micheal E Rogers. While his agressive scottishness is charming, he can't save this character as Junior is just kinda annoying at best. He ALLGEDLY has an arc where he learns his lesson and becomes better.. but he's really just a dumbass who wastes all his uncle's dust and his own remaining dust. He's only here because SOMEONE has to bring lily to Sodor

So before we get to that, let's catch up on everyone else. Burnett's dog is apparently also injesting spike and thus makes sure LIly ends up at shining time and sees Junior briefly. She then gets settled in with grandpa bonds with Dodger, just kinda putters around and...

FATHER THE SLEEPER HAS AWAKENED okay so stupid train children next. For a Thomas the Tank Engine movie the engines.. really don't actually do much in the plot. It's something I didn't notice in the film itself as the cut tricks you into THINKING their doing more than they are, cutting to the engines every few scenes as thomas tries to find Mr Conductor and stop Disesel 10 and his two comedic minions I haven't mentiond till now , who Disel sends to find the magic railroad. They do. That's it.. that's all they've done all film.

So we instead get a bunch of scenes of Thomas saying he's going to do something then just.. I guess doing something. We get bits of James and Percy who were originally voiced by Micheal Angelis, but instead replaced to get younger voices.. and instead got voice actresses who didn't really try to make thems ound masculine, resulting in Gender Flip James and Percy. James in paticular sounds like a dikensian orphan. I will say Eddie Glenn does a really good job at thomas but he and Neil Crone are the only ones who really get their rolls right out of the voice cast. I don't doubt these va's are good nor judge them for this: they werne't given much to work with, with Crone given nothing to work with and simply improvising, and were likely given little time to prepare given the rushed production schedule for the recut.

The most Thom=as contributes is loosing a truck, that will be important later, and figuring out that Disel's after the buffers which somehow allow people to travel on the magic railroad.

Things This Film Just Wants you To Accept: I"m So Tired

He finds out too late but thanks to Junior who brought a child with him because fuck it, they find thomas' missing truck and thomas and Mara Wilson go back to reality. A bad model of Thomas the film expects us to think is anywhere near acceptable

Things This Film Just Wants You To Accept: Stupid Train Models are for Cattle and Loveplay.

We do get a clever solution to the lady thing.. even if we never really get Burnett's backstory as that was cut because reasons. Since they have Sodor coal Lily suggests using it and I like it: it's a symbol of lady being both of this world and sodor. It's kind of cool in af ilm tha'ts mostly just confusing.

So lady returns to sodor, though Mr. C still thinks he and other Mr C who was busy telling Sir Topham Hat to go fuck himself and nearly getting murdered, using the last of his magic to save james, are dying as they still need that sweet sweet smack. I mean sparkle.. which is magical smack so it's better.

Before they can fix the crisis though Disel 10 shows up and we get a hilaroiusly green screneed ifnal chase as Burnet taunts his nemisis the sentient train. The chase scene.. is hilarously, horribly modleed and fun to watch. lady naturally wins, Disel 10 is left in the sludge but apparently comes back, and it's a happy end as Mara Wilson mixes well atter and railroad shavings to somehow create magic dust.

Things This Film Just Wants You To Accept: LONG LIVE THE STUPID TRAIN CHILDREN

So Mr C pases the cap on to his nephew who decides after his near death experince to man up finishing his nonexistant character arc. Mara wilson and co return home, the day is saved and the film just sorta ends.

That's.. the theatrical cut of Thomas and the Magic Railroad and as you can tell I was not a fan. It's entertaining for the most part and delightfully insane but i't sincoherence makes it REALLY hard to enjoy a lot of the time. As a Thomas film Thomas is barely a facotr in the plot, and as a shining time station film only two characters returned

Only. Two. Characters. Returned. The new characters are all bland cyphers, likely due to the cut changing. They TRY, Mara Wilson may of done this for the vacation but like Sir Micheal Caine before her she'll still work hard for the paycheck, but ther'es just nothing to hold onto. This film is a mess and I only recommend it if you have some friends to riff with, as I did with @jess-the-vampire or are good and baked. I was not but I hope to get some weed for my anxiety some day, and on that day I might watch this film. Oh who am I kidding i'm watching David Lynch's Dune and we all know it. Possibly with that episode of Sex and the City where Kyle Mclaclhan plays tennis shirtless at night as a prequel. His two best performances together at last.

So yeah not a big fan of this one. Not the worst thing i've covered but a hell of a film to unpack.. so you can imagine i'm just... PLEASED. AS. PUNCH. to be covering the other cut. Will be it be better? Worse? at least comprehnsible? Will I keep doing Dune refrences because I really fucking loved Part 2? All this and more will be answered next time but for now

[ghost-bison]

Rules For Requests

No hard smut, but I will write flirting/kissing/soft NSFW

I can do y/n, cross-ships, crackships, rare pairs... As long as it's characters I'm willing to write for

You can send your request in my ask box. I'll only answer if you're polite and nice, though

Length of the OS may vary with inspiration/characters I'm writing for

Try to give me at least a little bit of information so I know which direction your OS will take

I'll write about (almost) any ship as long as it involves at least one character in my list

Fandoms

Good Omens: Anthony J. Crowley - Aziraphale Fell - Gabriel - Beelzebub - Furfur - Hastur - Muriel - Shax

Doctor Who: Donna Noble - Tenth Doctor - Ninth Doctor - Martha Jones - Rose Tyler - River Song - Fourteenth Doctor - Rose Noble - Shaun Temple - Eleventh Doctor - Amelia Pond - Rory Williams

Broadchurch: Alec Hardy - Ellie Miller - Beth Latimer

The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon - Negan Smith - Carol Pelletier - Michonne Hawthorne - Judith Grimes - Beth Greene

Project Blue Book: Michael James Quinn - Allen Hynek - Mimi Hynek - Susie Miller

Teen Wolf: Derek Hale - Malia Hale - Allison Argent - Stiles Stilinski - Scott McCall - Lydia Martin - Isaac Lahey - Peter Hale - Theo Raeken - Liam Dunbar - Kira Yukimura - Cora Hale - Braeden - Kate Argent - Chris Argent

The Vampire Diaries: Lorenzo 'Enzo' St. John - Damon Salvatore - Bonnie Bennett - Elena Gilbert - Rebekah Mikaelson - Malachai 'Kai' Parker - Alexia 'Lexi' Branson - Tyler Lockwood - Elijah Mikaelson - Niklaus 'Klaus' Mikaelson - Caroline Forbes - Katherine Pierce - Matt Donovan - Stefan Salvatore

The Sandman: Morpheus 'Dream' of the Endless - Robert 'Hob' Gadling - Corinthian - Death of the Endless - Desire of the Endless - Matthew - Lucifer Morningstar - Lucienne

Once Upon A Time: Regina Mills - Emma Swan - Zelena Mills - Mary Margaret Blanchard - Henry Mills - David 'Charming' Nolan - Rogers - Lucy Mills - Robyn Mills - Alice Jones

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power: Catra - Adora - Glimmer of Brightmoon - Bow - Scorpia - Entrapta - Mermista - Sea Hawk - Perfuma - Swiftwind - Frosta - Mara - Castaspella - Angela - Micah - Double Trouble - Madame Razz - Light Hope

The Haunting of Hill House: Eleanor 'Nell' Crain - Theodora 'Theo' Crain - Hugh Crain - Olivia Crain

The Haunting of Bly Manor: Dani Clayton - Jamie Taylor - Viola Willoughby

[mischiefmuses]

Event Starter Call

starter call for the event! If not plotted before hand they can lead to plots during the event. Just lemme know if an idea is sparked! It plotted then yay!! Please specify who for. please spread your requests throughout the my characters. Capping at 5 for the moment!

loki laufeyson - marvel/aware (2/5) - Nezuko, Peggy

yennefer of vengerberg - the witcher/aware (2/5) - Renfri, Satana

rabastan lestrange - harry potter/aware (2/5) - Voldemort, narcissa

billy loomis - scream/aware (4/5) - Jill, Tara, Tatum, Elara

cleo mckinnon - harry potter/aware (1/5) - Thor

charles xavier - x-men/aware (3/5) - Noah, Logan, Lorna

henry Creel - stranger things/aware (1/5) - Eddie

fleur delacour - harry potter/aware (2/5) - Bill, Lee

hunter - star wars/aware (3/5) - Rowena , Helga, Cassian

jorah mormont - game of thrones/aware (3/5) - Sherlock, Drogon, Naomi

kirby reed - scream/aware (2/5) - Randy,Noah

parker - leverage/aware (3/5) - Yuri, Stitch, Eddie

peter hale - teen wolf/aware (2/5) - Bev, Eponine, Alec

satine kryze - star wars/aware (??/5)

sion val palpatine - star wars/aware (2/5) - Sella , Dani

tenel ka djo - star wars/aware (3/5) - Jacen, Mara, Han

ygritte - game of thrones/aware (1/5) - Arya

angel - buffy the vampire slayer/aware (2/5) - Buffy, Prue

cordelia goode - american horror story coven/aware (2/5) - Alastor, Jihyo

silco - arcane/aware (2/5) - Loid, Ekko

toothless - how to train your dragon/aware (3/5) - Dart , Jester, Klaus

Dream - The Sandman (3/5) -  sha hualing, Emily, Chloe

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this Week # 147 (Year 3/Week 43):

Loro ("Them"), my 7th decadent film by Paolo Sorrentino, the breakneck, modern-day Fellini. An epic, outrageous, over-the-top look into the outlandish life of charismatic billionaire king Silvio Berlusconi. MTV-style music video of power, sex, ultimate corruption and unlimited money. A sprawling saga of a modern day Citizen Kane, promiscuous, charming and greedy. As well as a young pimp who runs an escort service, and supplies him with a harem of girls.

I love noticing chronological symmetry in movies, for example, at the exact middle of the movie (starting at 1:11), there’s this central, electrifying scene of a telephone sales pitch, even better than DiCaprio selling 40,000 penny stock shares at 'The wolf of Wall Street'. Between serving as a prime minister and serving time, Tony Servillo's Berlusconi, the greatest salesman in Italy, is in a funk, and he needs to find his groove again. So late at night he opens a telephone book at random and calls some old lady from a listing, and in 6 minutes, he sells her an overpriced apartment that have not even been built yet. I wish I could find an isolated clip of that scene somewhere. Bellissimo!

And just today, I read about the real Berlusconi’s need to accumulate, his vast, 25,000 item art collection!

🍿

"Fugayzi, fugazi. It's a whazy. It's a woozie. It's fairy dust..."

So - because of the scene above - I had to stop everything I do, and indulge, one more time with Scorsese's The wolf of Wall Street. A similarly decadent, excessive, cocaine-fueled roller coaster ride of money and addiction. With judge Fran Lebowitz, Spike Jonze as Dwayne, the broker above, and of course Palm Spring's Cristin Milioti as the first wife.

So far I’ve seen only about half of Scorsese’s 42 full features, so after ‘Flower moon’ I’m going to deep dive, and watch all the ones I’ve missed.

🍿

Another film I’ve been re-watching over and over, Paweł Pawlikowski's heartbreaking romance Cold War. When I saw it the first time, I thought it was very complex (maybe I was stoned), but it's actually extremely simple, accessible and direct. Joanna Kulig's ethereal beauty and the powerful life force of her character 'Zula' are unforgettable. 10/10.

[Waiting for his next film, The island, with Joaquin Phoenix and Rooney Mara.]

🍿

John le Carré X 3:

🍿 Errol Morris's most recent documentary, The Pigeon Tunnel, a lengthy conversation with the fascinating writer le Carré. Based on his auto-biography of the same name. It's mostly about deceit and betrayals, as well as his tortured relationship with his larger-than-life conman father, "Ronnie". Lots of elaborate re-enactments, staged and fanciful. My best friend Danny (RIP) used to be an avid le Carré reader and fan.

🍿 First watch: The masterful The spy who came in from the cold. The first classic film adaptation and based on his spectacularly successful debut novel. Double and triple crossing in the dark days of the cold War. It was supposed to be the Anti-James Bond, and established a prolific genre of 'Flawed Spies', "a bunch of seedy squalid bastards like me, little men, drunkards, queers, henpecked husbands, civil servants playing 'Cowboys and Indians' to brighten their rotten little lives." Magnificent Richard Burton play.

[I also have to dig in and do a Martin Ritt marathon one day!]

🍿 Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy (the 2011 film, not the Alec Guinness TV series): A slow, melancholic and perfectly atmospheric thriller, with an all-star cast (Including a cameo of le Carré himself! Photo Above). Gary Oldman's vacant gaze got me to want watching his complete filmography. Also, it's funny how many movies open or end with Charles Trenet's La Mer!

Superb! 9/10.

🍿

2 horror films from British director Steve McQueen:

🍿 While waiting for his latest ‘Occupied City’, I caught his horrifying directorial debut Hunger from 2008. A re-telling of the 1981 Irish Hunger Strike, where 10 IRA volunteers starved themselves to death, as a protest against the British government. It is told from inside the prison cells. Very few films were able to transfer the horror and hopelessness of being abused by ruthless authorities like this one.

And in the middle of this gruesome narrative, there's an astounding scene, unbroken and shot with a static camera on Bobby Sands and a priest who came to see him, talking that lasts for 17 minutes. Simply amazing.

Best and most chilling film experience of the week.

Like Norm McDonald used to say (about Hitler): 'The more I learn about Margaret Thatcher, the more I don't care for her'.

🍿 Western Deep, a 2002 short, an near-abstract poem about the workers / slaves who work at the world's deepest gold mine in South Africa. Dark, jarring and claustrophobic. 1/10.

[Now that I've seen McQueen's 4 features, I have to move on to his 'Small Axe' television anthology.]

🍿

My first 2 films by Romanian Cristian Mungiu:

🍿 His latest contemplative drama R.M.N. is set in a backwater multi-ethnic village in Transylvania, where long-simmering tensions erupt over questions of national identity, globalization, prejudices and xenophobia. It opens with pig slaughtering, and ends with an old man who hangs himself in the forest. It's harsh, and coarse, and repressive. But it's told in a sublime style. And in the middle of all the ugliness and misogyny, a woman practices her cello by playing Yumeji's haunting theme from 'In the mood for love'. 9/10.

🍿 So I finally also saw his highly-acclaimed 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days from 2007, considered as 'one of the greatest films of the 21 century'. But the depressing story of a desperate young woman who's trying to obtain an illegal abortion in the last dark days of communist Romania, was as pleasant as a visit to Nicolae Ceaușescu's dungeon: Dingy, stressfully-ugly and miserable.

🍿

“…Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?…”

Airplane!, another re-watch of this classic evergreen - the No. 1 modern American comedy on most lists? With cameos by Ethel Merman, young Mike Ehrmantraut and James Howe, one of the most prolific character actors of all time, as a Japanese general committing Harakiri. Isn't it strange that the guy who played Ted Striker never had a career in Hollywood after that?

Maybe it's time for Edgar Wright to re-make 'Airplane 2024!'?

🍿

5 more by female directors:

🍿 Elaine May's Mikey and Nicky, a dark dialogue-rich, two-person crime drama about old friendship and betrayal over one long night in Philadelphia. John Cassavetes is a small-time hood with a contract out on his life. And Peter Falk is his lifelong friend who may or may not be trying to help him escape his fate. A nuanced portrayal of fragile masculinity.

🍿 The royal hotel, my second film by Australian Kitty Green, and also starring Julia Garner, playing another powerless young woman suffering male abuse and exploitation (after 'The Assistant'). Two young backpackers take a job at an outback bar, in "the middle of nowhere". A scary, ominous thriller with escalating threats and an uncomfortable sense of mortal danger. Too unpleasant for me - 4/10.

🍿 Bus Girl is the first film directed by Jessica Henwick, who plays the 2nd girl in 'The Royal Hotel'. A cute little culinary fantasy, shot entirely on a cell phone. 6/10.

🍿 Aurora’s Sunrise, my second Armenian film (after ‘The colour of pomegranates’). An adult animated feature about the Albanian genocide, through the eyes of a real life young woman, who survived the hellish years, and escaped to America, where she became celebrated Hollywood star in 1919, when she played herself in 'Carnival of souls'.

Ethnic cleansing, mass murder, exterminations, cruelty and hatred ... Armenians, Jews, Palestinians, Uygurs, American Indians, Tutsis... It's always the same fucking thing!

(Via).

🍿 Affairs of the Art, a British-Canadian craziness by Joanna Quinn, nominated in 2021 for best animated short. Spectacular and surrealistic visuals about a 59-year-old lady, a zany artist at heart, and her fully-eclectic family. Very Roald Dahl. 9/10.

🍿

On the fringe, a recent Spanish social drama with Penélope Cruz. Stressful and depressive story about folks that are being evicted from their homes. Focus on grey, marginalized and helpless people, ground up by bureaucracy, nickel and dimed by poverty, lack of time and resources is a tough watch. Especially when the story is not wrapped up with optimism or a happy end. 6/10.

🍿

“I’m glad we had this conversation…”

Viking, an alternative, "indie" science fiction allegory, scientifically naive, and featuring low-low tech and drama. An odd, simulated Canadian proximation. In spite of mirroring some scenes from '2001' and 'The Shining', it's not close to either one. Meh. 2/10.

🍿

"Kill the wabbit!"

Chuck Jones's What's Opera, Doc?, considered to be the greatest animated short film of all time. A 7 minutes riff on Wagner's Nibelung and Disney's Fantasia, and the first cartoon short to be selected for preservation for the National Film Registry. With Mel Blanc and Elmer Fudd.

🍿

... No fellow could ignore / The little girl next door / She sure looked sweet in her first evening gown / Now there's a charge for what she used to give for free ... 

"Today, I learned" that satirist & mathematician Tom Lehrer is still alive, at ninety five! He was extremely popular in the 60's and basically retired in 1972. Also, that [like Jonas Salk] he transferred all the songs he ever recorded to the public domain - "For the greater good!"

In 1967, he recorded his excellent Copenhagen concert for posterity. Delightful!

2 extras: I got it from Agnes (which is about the spread of VD), and Bergman's actor Lars Ekborg’s singing I Tom Lehrers vackra värld in Swedish.

🍿

The Insurrectionist next door, my first documentary by Alexandra Pelosi, Nancy's daughter. She was trying to humanize about a dozen individuals who participate in the January 6 attack, by befriending them and their their families, and by allowing all of them to explain that they were "just at the wrong place at the wrong time". In the end, it was just sad to see the poor children who had to cry goodbye when their father went to jail.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

[lorata]

I think the Devon to Lyme switch with Mara makes so much sense. With Victor Alec in the creed does AU, he’s a political choice and they all know he doesn’t really want it. So there’s be a blanket ban on Sloane anyway because you can’t send two tributes in who don’t want it. Whereas in the injured Creed AU, Alec’s sharper, he wants it and he’s fighting for it, so the reasons for Sloane not being picked are different because it’s not just about political choices. So it makes sense that Lyme could mentor and not pick Sloane in the second, maybe she lost to the selection board or just picked Mara, whereas in the first they might not even have asked her to mentor and that’s why Devon’s there

this is such a good analysis i'm mad i can't take credit for it actually

[sarah-maclean-completist]

72 Shelton Street A Rogue By Any Other Name A Scot in the Dark Adelaide Frampton Alec Stuart, Duke of Warnick Allendale House Aloysius Kingscote, Marquess of Eversley Benedick Hartwell Bombshell Brazen and the Beast Brook's Businesses Caleb Calhoun Coleford House Daring and the Duke Devon Culm Duncan West Eben James Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart Ewan Felicity Faircloth Georgiana Pearson Grace Condry Greek Mythology Heartbreaker Hell's Belles Henrietta Sedley Henry Carrington, Duke of Clayborn Heroes Heroines Homes Jacqueline Mosby James Talbott Jane Whitacre Jasper Arlesey, Earl Harlow Juliana Fiori Lady Calpurnia (Callie) Hartwell Lady Isabel Townsend Lillian Hargrove Locations Lord Gabriel St. John, Marquess of Ralston Lord Nicholas St. John Love By Numbers MacLeaniverse Wiki Madame Hebert Madame Hebert's Main Page Malcolm Bevingstoke, Duke of Haven Mara Lowe Mariana Hartwell Michael Lawler, Marquess of Bourne Minerva House Nastasia Kritikos Never Judge a Lady By Her Cover Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake No Good Duke Goes Unpunished Number Two, Wesley Street One Good Earl Deserves a Lover Penelope Marbury Philippa Marbury Punch Ralston House Rules of Scoundrels Saviour Whittington Scandal & Scoundrel Seraphina Talbot Sesily Talbot Simon Pearson, Duke of Leighton Somerset House Sophie Talbot Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord The Bareknuckle Bastards The Day of the Duchess The Dog and the Dove The Duke of Christmas Present The Fallen Angel The Place The Rogue Not Taken The Singing Sparrow Theatre Royal Timeline Trevescan House Wicked and the Wallflower William Harrow, Duke of Lamont Worthington House