#mr 'i have a crush on elizabeth banks' himself

[callhimnowmarisamylove]

Do you ever think about how these two singlehandedly fuckin launched this ship into the ocean and started paddling as hard as they could because they both just wanted to make out with each other?? And the producers were like actually yeah we see it great job??!!!! Amen and thank god for them

[alydiarackham]

(cover by me)

How to Be a Hero Like a Villain by Alydia Rackham

Introduction

I’m Basically a Geek

                 Hi. Yeah, so, it’s true. I’m a geek. Have been forever. I really had no shot at being otherwise. My mom raised my brother and I on musicals and Star Wars and Star Trek and Disney. Growing up, I read loads of YA sci-fi novels—again, lots of Star Wars—and then when Marvel started making movies, I got into X-Men and then Iron Man, Thor (my major crush on Loki still remains alive), Captain America, then Batman; all that jazz. I’m also a Disney fanatic and a theatre nerd.

I was an English major in college, am in love with Tolkien and Austen and Dickens and Doyle, and adore all things Victorian. My friend Jaicee introduced me to Vampire Diaries and Originals (which are both compelling studies in heroics and villainy, let me tell you). I’ve written tons of fanfiction, in addition to loads of original novels. I write in all genres, mostly because I get hooked on a good story, good characters, no matter the setting—though I do have a weakness for an epic story arc, flawed heroes and of course, powerful villains. Right now, I’m on the 5th book in my fairy tale retellings series. So far, I’ve retold “Beauty and the Beast,” “The Snow Queen,” “The Little Mermaid,”—and then I did a totally-original one about a Curse-Maker, from the POV of…yep, the villain! At the moment, I’m working on a retelling of the legend of King Arthur, called “Excalibor.” It’s a blast.

               As you might imagine, I am intrigued most of all by character. I enjoy reading about the great ones, and inhabiting the interesting ones in my own writing. Flat romantic interests and motivation-less villains drive me nuts. I’m fascinated by a character’s inner workings, his history, his motivation, his mannerisms, his relationships, his skills, his style, the way he presents himself to the world. My brother and I love analyzing plot holes and devices and flaws and symbolism and insights. (Our after-movie discussions can get very animated, and last for hours.)

               Often, we find ourselves yelling things at the Hero on the screen like “For crying out loud, don’t do that! Don’t go in there! Stop wasting your time! Watch out—don’t you know what’s in there?” We easily see the choices that the Hero makes that are flawed, impulsive, or just plain stupid.

               But very rarely do we notice such things about the Villain. A good one, anyway.

               The Villain takes us by surprise. He startles us. He’s two steps ahead. He already has the device, he’s laid the trap, he’s captured the girlfriend, he’s destroyed the evidence. (Cancer Man in X-Files makes me absolutely want to scream because of this stuff.)

               Why is that? How did he know? How is he doing this?? It drives us crazy—and yet, we reluctantly have to admire the greats for being such awesome masterminds.

               So…how are the Villains so successful? Sure, we could shrug it off and say, “Well, he’s a super-genius, what do you expect?” But that’s too easy, and frankly, it’s doing a great disservice to our Evil Neighborhood Menace. In fact, with everything we see, and with the Hero making such rash and stupid decisions, oftentimes it’s a wonder that the Hero even lives, let alone triumphs in the end.

               And actually, in real life, that’s often true. The Hero does die or fail, and the Villain lives and prospers. Why?

               What is it that the Villain is doing that the Hero is not doing, which makes him successful? Again, the easy and lazy answer is “He kills people to get what he wants, he lies, he steals.” Okay, sure. What you’re describing is a garden-variety thug. Somebody who gets caught in Spiderman’s webs every weekend.

You are not describing a Super-Villain.

There’s something about a Super-Villain—a really great one—that keeps him in the game, that makes him a serious threat to the Hero, even after being beaten over and over again. What is it about Lex Luthor—who has no powers—that keeps him alive, and makes him a continuous, serious threat against Superman, the most powerful being on the planet?

How is it that a Villain keeps coming back, when similar failures and losses would crush a Hero and send him home forever, never again to don the super suit?

Could it be that a Villain’s methods, his mindset, his approach, are vastly different from a Hero’s?

And, if a Hero could learn to take these qualities and mesh them with his own already-existing awesomeness, could he perhaps avoid a devastating loss, a crushing defeat?

Is that…in fact…what does make the Hero succeed in the end??

That’s what this book is about. Examining what truly is awesome about a great Villain, and showing YOU how you can put those qualities to use in your own life to do a great deal of good, instead of great evil.

Be a great Hero. Take a few tips from the Villains.

-Alydia Rackham

         P.S. I’m going to refer to both the Hero and Villain in this book as “he.” I’m doing that because it’s waaay easier than saying “he or she” all the time. Not because I don’t believe that women can be awesome Heroes, or terribly wicked Villains.

Because I totally do.

 Chapter One

What Makes A Hero or a Villain?

                 So, what is it that makes a person a Hero, instead of a Villain? We’re talking the foundation, here. What are the qualities he or she possesses deep down inside that distinguish, that draw the line, that clearly state to the world: “Nope, this is a good guy, this is a bad guy”? This can be confusing. Especially when we look at two characters, say Loki and Bucky Barnes. Both of them have been all over the map with both good and evil deeds. Both have been called Villains, and both could be Heroes.

               What is it that makes us decide where someone stands?

               I would say that it all comes down to one thing: CHOICES.

               It can’t be anything else. You can’t say it’s kindness, or love, gentleness, trust, honesty, bravery, self-sacrifice, or self-respect. Many Heroes and Villains alike struggle with self-respect. Many Villains sacrifice themselves for a person, or a cause. Villains are almost always exceptionally brave. Villains probably are honest with at least one person, or have been in the past. They also have trusted someone, been gentle with someone or something. Most certainly, the best Villains have loved very, very deeply, and tried their best to be kind to that person or animal.

               However, something went wrong. Very wrong. And with every Villain, it can be traced back to Choice.

               Sometimes, it’s a single choice. Many times, it’s several choices in a row. And eventually, they all decide that “the ends justify the means.” They opt for self-preservation, for the removal of liberty for other people, for the arrogant assertion of their own will. Over and over again, until it poisons them.

               A Hero is someone who does not do this. Who chooses, even if it is wrenchingly difficult, to stand by what is right, no matter the consequences. No matter if he loses everything. He will not betray his honor. Even if no one else would see or know—he would know. And he will not do it.

               In the end, this is what makes the Hero stronger than a Villain. The climax, and the defeat of the Villain, comes when the Villain’s weaknesses are exposed, and the Hero takes all his own strengths, combines them with the strengths of the Villain, and declares victory.

               A Hero guards his or her good conscience fiercely. It’s pretty well summed up in this quote from Captain America:

               “Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are: not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”  

 Chapter Two

Good Guys Can Be Stupid

                 We all know it’s true. When we’re in the movie theatre, we mutter under our breath, shake our heads.

When we’re at home, we scream at the TV.

               “Nooooo! What are you thinking? Don’t go that way, go the other way!”

               “You moron, don’t go off by yourself! Never leave the group! Especially in the dark!”

               “What, you jumped in there but you had no way of getting out?”

               “Don’t ignore her calls, she’s trying to save your life!”

               Yep, we’ve all been there. So what are some bad traits that Heroes tend to display that we ought to try to avoid ourselves?

  Stupid Impulsiveness

               Sure, impulsiveness can be good on a date, or at a restaurant trying some new dish.

It’s not good when you’re, I dunno, jumping off a ten story building. Following a noise into a dark forest. Or deciding to stop a bank robbery two days after you discovered your powers. Bad planning, or none at all. Not even thinking about what could happen in the next five minutes, let alone preparing for it.

For us regular folks, this can be translated into deciding to go for a drive in the snow with no 4-wheel drive, jumping off something that’s too high, going on a trip without enough money, walking down a dark alley in New York City…

               Yeah, you get the idea.

Not Keeping Family and Friends in the Loop

               We’ve seen it a lot: Heroes thinking they need to conquer alone—deal with all their problems, and protect their family members. However, all that ends up causing is major trouble. Sometimes life-threatening, sometimes not, but it’s never good. One that comes to mind is Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. If she had told her sisters about what was going on with Darcy, and especially the drama with Mr. Wickham, she might have saved her sister Lydia from being entrapped by the Villain. Pretty much every single story about a superhero contains this type of lament: “If I had only just told them the truth!”  

               Heroes fall into the trap of thinking that they’re protecting their loved ones by keeping secrets. By not trusting their friends or their family with what’s going on in their lives. When in fact, this only puts their loved ones in danger, and puts serious stress and pressure on the Hero, which can lead to exhaustion, panic, stretched resources, missed opportunities, and giving the loved ones the feeling that they’re being neglected and forgotten.

  Discouragement

           So many times, the Hero just doesn’t have the tools to do what he needs to do. He’s isolated himself, he’s gone without sleep, he’s fighting an uphill battle every day. And then, one major thing goes the wrong way, and he’s broken. He collapses, he throws things, he cries, he’s in despair. He thinks there’s no possible way for him to do this, to keep going.

               He dwells on the failure. It almost swallows him. He loses all confidence, all belief in himself. He might even lose faith in the cause itself, in the people and things he’s been fighting so hard for. And if someone doesn’t come along and convince him otherwise, he’ll never put on that Hero cape again, or pick up that shield, or that sword.

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/How-Hero-Like-Villain-Villainous-ebook/dp/B07NMVGCHP/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=how+to+be+a+hero+like+a+villain+alydia+rackham&qid=1572901986&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

[tokyotwosome]

England: ”This Earth of Majesty”

7/26/19 - ENGLAND. The mother to the modern world’s business tongue. A country within the United Kingdom within Great Britain and none of us can make any sense of what the heck the difference is. This wondrous place is an island I’d always dreamed of visiting from the first time I picked up The Chronicles of Narnia. Or Pride and Prejudice. Or Harry Potter. The list goes on. From its rich history, its captivating architecture, and the many famous humans that have walked these streets, England is not a country to be missed.

We arrived in London on a Friday evening. The summer in the U.K. is much like Seattle; the sun is fickle and the rain needy. Seeing the countless parks throughout the city, not to mention the luscious greenery throughout the countryside, it’s no wonder it rains so much here. On Saturday morning, we met up with a friend to do a proper tour of the city. For the day, we purchased a “London Pass” which gets you into over 75 attractions as well as access to the Hop on Hop Off bus. We swiftly made our way to the top of the double decker, not caring that the open-roof was a bit damp and paying notice to the “mind your head” signs up the stairs. As we embarked through the city, a man with a microphone prompted us to grab headphones and listen to his countless facts about London. 

Did you know that there are actually two Londons? Greater London refers to the American definition of “London”. This is where the Queen hails and is generally what we think of when referring to London. There is also “The City of London”, a square mile within Greater London that can be easily identified by its dragon statues which guard its borders. The City of London is separately governed, collects separate taxes, enforces separate laws, has their own separate flag, and even elects their own Lord Mayor. Queen Elizabeth isn’t even allowed to enter the City of London without permission from the Lord Mayor. It’s all very scratch-head worthy. 

There’s a laundry list of sites to see in London. There’s Big Ben (currently under construction), Westminster Abbey (filled with famous and infamous corpses), Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Tower Bridge (much cooler than London Bridge), the Churchill War Rooms, Shakespeare’s Globe, and loads more. One would need to devote an entire week to site seeing just to manage it all in. Needless to say, we didn’t get to see everything, but we managed to get some good ones under our belt. 

Our first stop was at the Tower of London, just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Tower Bridge on the north bank of the River Thames (pronounced “Tems”). The Tower of London is less of a tower and more of a series of towers that feel more like medieval grounds from something out of a storybook. Within each tower holds its own treasures and stories. There was original armor, crown jewels, the bloody tower (where two princes were believed to have been killed by their uncle so that he could have the crown for himself), prison cells (where names and images have been carved into walls)...and so much more. You could spend all day at this site alone, but we hurried on off to lunch after building up an appetite..must have been all the murder stories that did it. Speaking of murder - walking across the Tower Bridge, we found the street where many Jack the Ripper scenes were filmed. They even offer evening tours of all his murder spots (a big no thank you from me). 

The food in England is a journey in and of itself. If you ask for pie, don’t expect something sweet. A traditional English-style breakfast consists of toast (seemingly the most important food group), beans, mushrooms and/or tomatoes, an over-easy egg, a hash brown, bacon (which is actually more ham-like), and sausage (tastes more like fake meat to me). We can’t tell you how many times we ate the same English-style breakfast, but it really was quite hearty. Brunch will sometimes include all-you-can-drink. And let’s not forget Sunday roast! Tea was also a staple for most, if not all, of our breakfasts - I like mine with two sugars and milk. In terms of stereotype foods, we didn’t see a crumpet in sight.

While London is a must-see when in England, it’s certainly not the highlight of the country. We rented a car and made our way north, with our final destination being Scotland. We’d arranged to have overnight stays in aribnb’s along the way, taking recommendations from our very own Rick Steves. The street signs were comical, seeing ones like “mind the gap” and “queues likely”. Getting used to the different terminology is a journey of its own. First stop was Stow-on-the-Wold; a quaint little market town with sandy-colored buildings, friendly town folk, and shops around every corner. We still aren’t sure what a Stow or a Wold is, but while we passed through, it was clear why it was a place outsiders wanted to visit. After spending a few days in the city, it was refreshing to be in a small town. We managed to only go down the wrong side of the street towards oncoming traffic once, so that’s a bonus! 

Shortly following our pit-stop to Stow-on-the-Wold, we found our airbnb in a place known as Derbyshire, arriving promptly at 3:00 PM. A woman answered the door and greeted us by saying, “you’re positively punctual”. She sounded like Mary Poppins and I could’ve swore she was about to break out in song next and a bird would likely land delicately on her finger. That was when I really realized we weren’t in Kansas anymore. She took us upstairs to our room in her large, historical cottage. The backyard view reminded me of something out of a Jane Austen novel. I could imagine Mr. Darcy coming to our door by horseback. We had dinner at a local gastropub, just up the street. The server told us about a place to visit the following day, which we promptly agreed we’d do. 

The next morning on our way out of town, we stopped by the recommendation from our server; a nature walk toward an abandoned water mill. During our walk, Rob stopped and asked that I take a picture of him in the grass. At the time, I had no idea why. Turns out he was envisioning a scenic view out of Gladiator and just HAD to reenact it. Making our way down a long drive, we saw a flock of pheasants that we thought were chickens. When we finally did make it to the water mill, we took in the beautiful views and imagined what sorts of things must have taken place throughout history here; a common thought through such a historical place. When we thought there wasn’t a living soul in site, a couple of women on horseback road passed. Such a slow, easy going lifestyle here. 

Our next destination was what is known as the lake district; more specifically, a town called Keswick (pronounced Ke-sick). Keswick was by far our favorite stopping point. It had a German feel with British flavor. Lots of nature, lots of shops, and lots of kind people. This is a popular spot to visit in the summertime for Brits throughout the country. While rain was to be expected, we lucked out for the day we spent there and enjoyed a pleasant nature hike. 

The day following our trip to Keswick, the weather took a turn for the worse. We were so fortunate to have such a beautiful day for our one day spent there. After our time in the lake district, our next stop was Scotland. Truly, Scotland is deserving of its own blog, so stay tuned for that next! Instead, I’m going to fast forward to when we trained back to London. 

We’ve gone full circle and made it back to the city. Our train arrived at Kings Cross Station - so naturally we visited platform 9 3/4. After taking our obligatory Harry Potter photo, we decided to try to squeeze in any last minute sightseeing we may have missed. That’s how we ended up at the Churchill War Rooms. The underground tour is the original housing spot for Churchill and his men during WWII. They have kept the rooms in mostly the same condition with a full audio tour to really envision what it must have been like during the war. Trying to imagine being trapped down there while bombs continued to go off upstairs was a very humbling experience. For me, having been to the war museums in both Pearl Harbor and Okinawa, seeing the war through the British lens was a new perspective. On one of the original maps in the discussion room, you could even see a drawing of Hitler someone had done. A really remarkable site and I would highly recommend to anyone who visits London. Speaking of sights in London, did you know that all museums are free in the UK? That led us to the Natural History Museum! Among other things. 

On 8/3/19, our 5-year wedding anniversary, we decided to treat ourselves to high tea. We had reservations at a delightful little spot in the city. The theme was Peter Rabbit and ohhhh was it good! We had mini-sandwiches, biscuits, jams, and treats to the max. Everything you see was edible, including the flower pots. I don’t think I stopped smiling once. When we had finished, we were stuffed beyond belief. Then the server comes over with a HAPPY ANNIVERSARY dessert. We couldn’t NOT eat it...so we stuffed our little bunny bellies. Another successful wedding anniversary outside of the states - once an accident, now a tradition. <3

If you’re considering a trip to the UK, I’d say go Nike and just do it! Some of our expectations were met and others were shattered, but that’s the joy of travelling. A place is never how you think it’s going to be, but seeking the different is what is exciting. Stay tuned for the next blog where we’ll share our adventures in Scotland - my new crush. Thanks for sticking it out and reading along!  

[jadefyre]

Okok something completely different. Are you into pride and prejudice?? If yes, for the character ask..i'll go for mr darcy (-or elizabeth if you prefer..but darcy might be funny)

Headcanon A:  realistic: listen. Listen. Mr. Darcy is DEFINITELY the kind of person who would go “it’s a banana, Michael, what could it cost, $10?” BUT he’s also the kind of person who would go around to every single one of his tenants to make sure they’re doing okay, that they have enough pounds in the bank or whatever to feed their families every season. He’s never known starvation himself but he knows he has a Lot in life and hates to see others go without

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious: he is TOO EMBARRASSED to kiss Elizabeth. He doesn’t know what to do with his mouth the first time (it’s definitely before they get married, Elizabeth wouldn’t have it any other way tbh???) and he just kinda stands there LIKE A TREE and elizabeth is like okay okay i knoW about kissing someone and IM PRETTY SURE THIS AINT IT

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends: Elizabeth passes away first. Darcy visits her grave every single day (she’s buried in the parish graveyard in a spectacularly laid-out plot that’s always covered in roses because she was such a good person to the people in the area that they try to elevate her to the church of england equivalent of sainthood) and talks to her and sometimes their children will try to visit him at home but if he’s not there they know where he’s gonna be so they quietly join him and reminisce about what a good person she was

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own: HONESTLY i cannot outdo Queen Austen but if I had to throw out a completely different headcanon its that despite the fact that he can’t kiss worth a damn at first, Mr. Darcy is a Very Fast Learner and the moment they’re married and alone in their bed that first night, Elizabeth does not know what hit her hahahahaha

Send me a character!

[letterfromtrenwith]

Crowned With Consolation

1806: George & Elizabeth receive some devastating news, tearing their contented life apart.  

A future fic which is AU for both the series and the books, although it is inspired by some events from the later books. 

~

Prologue

“Oh, Kitty, would you please open the window?”

“Of course, Ma’am.” George and Elizabeth shared a small smile when the young housemaid could not resist pausing to take a breath of the warm summer air. As the girl departed, the faint sounds of birdsong floated into the great hall.

“Can you hear the birds? They’re very happy today!” Elizabeth smiled down at their youngest child, Nicholas, who sat contentedly on her lap, playing with the embroidered hem of her shawl. The other children had been sent back to the nursery for their lessons so he was able to spend some time alone with his parents as they lingered over the end of their breakfast.

“Because it’s summer,” he replied, quite seriously, and George could not help but laugh as Elizabeth gave him a look of astonished delight.

“Why, yes! How clever of you to know that!” Nicholas beamed at his mother’s praise, cuddling closer to her. Although just three years old, he was a bright boy, taking after his elder siblings in their tendency to precociousness. His sisters read to him from their books, while his brother took him for walks in the gardens, pointing out flowers and insects, and showing him birds’ nests in the trees. At twelve, Valentine would be off to school soon and so they were making the most of his time at home. They would miss him terribly they knew, although school was the best thing for him.

“Are you at the Bank today?” Elizabeth asked, handing the last piece of her scone to Nicholas, who ate it eagerly, smearing a spot of jam on his chubby cheek. She wiped it gently away.

“Yes, I must go this afternoon. There are some papers that need sent to Gloucester by tonight.” The Warleggan Bank had expanded greatly over the years, with offices all over the South West, and even a small one in London. Once upon a time, George had travelled often between them, but now he preferred to remain close to home as much as possible. Close to the warmth and comfort of his family. It was his age, he supposed – he was getting startlingly close to fifty, although he felt as fit as he ever had – or perhaps it was simply the years teaching him that no matter how successful his business, it could never give him the same happiness as his wife and children. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Oh, not a great deal. I was going to ride over to see Ruth, but she sent a note saying Agneta has a fever. Nothing serious, I understand, but I will visit another day.”

“That poor child is often ill. She seems prone to it.” Agneta Treneglos was one of Ruth and John Teague’s four daughters and was of an age with George and Elizabeth’s eldest daughter, Ursula, and her cousin, Loveday Carne. Malicious gossip had it that there was something wrong with her, some infirmity of mind, but on the occasions Ruth had visited with her children, the girl had seemed quite ordinary, playing with the others and joining them in pestering Cook for sweets. She was perhaps not quite so quick and lively as Ursula and Loveday, but she was only eight years old and they were both clever for their age, not to mention fortunate enough to have parents who were happy to educate girls the same as boys. A lack of sons was a great disappointment to John Treneglos, something both he and his father were not exactly shy about making known. It was very unbecoming behaviour in George’s mind; his own daughters were the light of his life, and brought him more joy than he could describe. Besides, if it was a matter of inheritance, John had a nephew to whom he could will what little of the family fortune he had not already frittered away. Then again, considering George had two much adored sons of his own and had acquired another by marriage, perhaps it was easy for him to take such an attitude.

“I think I will take the girls out into the garden this afternoon, if the weather stays fine.” Elizabeth glanced out at the clear blue skies. “The flowers are blooming beautifully now, and it is time we had some spring colour in the house.”

“I am sure they will be delighted, my dear.” All of their children had inherited their mother’s love of nature, but the girls especially so. The twins, Clare and Susannah, recently turned six, were already prone to clattering in splattered with mud and leaves, much to the despair of the housekeeper, Sarah, who complained only partly in jest that they were half-wild.

Sarah – or Mrs Ewer, more properly – entered now. Irish by birth, she had served the Warleggan family since George’s father was alive, and had been one of a handful of servants who had followed George to Trenwith upon his marriage, somewhat understandably not wishing to remain at Cardew with only Cary as master. Competent and loyal, she had been an invaluable servant over the years, and was now housekeeper. She had asked if they would keep her on even after her marriage – to a respectable coachman – and they had readily agreed. Today, her pleasant face wore a grave expression and George noticed that she was gripping her hands rather tightly together.

“Sir, there are two gentlemen here who wish to speak with you, on a matter of some importance.”

“Well, show them in.”

“Forgive me, Sir, but I think it would be better if you would step outside.” He exchanged a questioning glance with Elizabeth. This was highly irregular, but Sarah was not one for silliness or flights of fancy. If she thought this was for the best, then she would have good reason.

“Very well.” He rose, feeling a twinge in his left shoulder. He had dislocated it in a riding accident over a decade ago and now age occasionally niggled at it. Out in the stone-flagged entrance hall stood not merely two gentlemen, but two soldiers, their uniforms almost glaringly bright in dark-walled space.

“Sire, you are Mr George Warleggan, are you not?” asked the taller of the two. George looked between them, confused as to what their purpose could be.

“I am, but – “

“Stepfather of Lieutenant Geoffrey Charles Poldark, of the 81st Regiment of Foot?”

“Yes…” The solider continued to speak but George did not hear him. His voice faded away, along with everything else that had been in George’s mind that morning, because the other officer was holding out a letter. A letter edged in black.

I

Elizabeth’s grief was almost harder to bear than this own. Her misery was total and all-consuming. As he’d stepped back into the hall that day, feeling as if he was suddenly in another world than he had been when he’d left it, it hadn’t been the matter-of-fact way in which he’d just been told that his son was dead which truly agonised him, but the knowledge that he must now tell Elizabeth. She’d been playing some sort of game with Nicholas, making him laugh, sheer happiness on her face. He’d watched them for just a moment, wanting to draw out the time before he had to shatter her heart completely. She knew him too well not to see that something was dreadfully wrong as soon as she saw him. He’d watched her beautiful, beloved face fall and her soft eyes fill with tears, and he’d felt an icy hand take hold of him inside and squeeze as if it were trying to crush the very life out of him.

Such was the depths of her despair that when, about three weeks after that day, he had not been able to find her, a terrible possibility had occurred to him. A truly dreadful thought which had almost paralysed him with horror, until he realised that there was one last place he had not looked. He had not thought to look there, because he himself could not bear to go there.

Geoffrey Charles’ bedroom was exactly as he had left it on his last visit home. His books piled on his writing desk and the bedside table, the mantelpiece littered with childhood keepsakes – shells, old coins, some of his toy soldiers, now faded and worn. The sight of their painted red coats made George look away quickly.

Elizabeth lay on the bed, her mourning dress flowing inky-black across the coverlet. Her face was wan, her eyes red and she was clutching what it took George a moment to recognise as Geoffrey Charles’ school coat. He had not realised that the boy had kept it, but then again, by all accounts, his stepson had fonder memories of his schooldays than George.

“Here you are, my dear. I have been looking for you.” He was careful not to let any of the panic he had briefly felt into his voice.

“I thought there might be something of him left in here, but there’s nothing.” Her voice was so soft George had to take a step closer to hear her. “It just all reminds me that he’ll never come back here – never read his books or wear his clothes, never look out of his window or sleep in his bead.”

Her voice broke into a quiet sob and George felt her words keenly. The shock of Geoffrey Charles’ loss had been so brutal, so sudden, with no time to prepare or say goodbye. Yes, they had known he was going off to war, to face terrible danger at every moment. They had seen their friends and neighbours experience the loss and suffering of their husbands, brothers and sons; and yet, somehow, George knew that some part of them both had always believed that Geoffrey Charles would come out all right, that somehow not even a war was enough to take him from them. But they had been wrong, so very wrong. That spirited, clever young man, with his love of riding and cards and sensational novels, his ready smile and dandyish air, was gone. Snatched away, leaving behind only a great hole ripped in the lives of those who loved him.

Not knowing what to say – he hardly knew what to say to anyone at the moment – George came to sit beside her on the bed.  She shifted slightly, laying her head on his lap.

“We cannot even bury him,” she whispered. Pain poured through her every word. Elizabeth was a wonderful, loving, devoted mother to all of her children, but Geoffrey Charles was her first born, their special bond strengthened by the time after Francis’ death when they had only had each other. George knew that nothing he said could make it better, so he simply sat and stroked her hair in silence. After a while, although he did not know how long, he heard her breathing slow and felt her relax against him. He dared not move for fear of disturbing her, so he leant back against the headboard and closed his eyes. It would be an uncomfortable night, but it was worth it to bring Elizabeth even a moment of comfort.

~

The old Poldark family church was cool even in the height of summer. There was a faint hint of damp, in fact, and George absently thought that he must have word with the estate manager about seeing to it. Perhaps he would speak to the stonemason when he came about Geoffrey Charles’ memorial. There may be no body for them to bury, lost on the battlefields of Europe, but his passing would not go unmarked. His stone would go next to the one commemorating his father. The letters of Francis’ name were looking a touch worn, George noticed; that would have to be fixed as well.

George had never been a man of any particular piety. He attended church as often as was thought proper, but was not especially interested in religion. The clergy spent their time lecturing their flocks on temperance and Christian charity, but were almost inevitably a feckless, grasping bunch themselves. However, he had found this place oddly comforting these past weeks. It was quiet and peaceful. Here, he could be alone with his grief. At home, he spent all his time worrying about Elizabeth and the children. He did not come often, and when he did he asked Sarah and Kitty to take care of Elizabeth as best they could, without pestering her of course.

Originally, he had told only Valentine what had happened. He was too old, and too intelligent to be deceived, and George had not wanted him to find out any other way. He at first tried to be stoic, with the typical twelve year old boy’s idea that he must be very grown up about everything, but his resolve had quickly crumbled and he had cried properly for the first time since he was a little boy. It pained George deeply to see him so upset. He himself had been barely older than Valentine when his father died; there was no right age to have death first intrude on one’s life.

“I – I never wrote to him,” he’s stuttered between sobs.

“Yes, you did, I sent your letters myself.”

“No, I – I mean, the last time. His last letter, I kept putting off writing back, and I never did, and now he’s…”

“Shhhh, my boy. Geoffrey Charles did not need letters to know that you were thinking of him.” Despite their age difference, the two boys had always got along well, Geoffrey Charles patiently reading to him from Mrs Barbauld, and playing hide and seek with him in the maze of old attic rooms upstairs then, as Valentine grew, taking him riding and showing him how to play chess.

George had extracted a promise that he would not tell any of the other children, nor any of his cousins. However, Ursula, as usual, could not be fooled. One day, as he sat alone in the parlour, Morwenna having managed to cajole Elizabeth into at least sitting outside with her, if not taking a walk, Ursula had burst in quite suddenly, a determined look on her little face.

“Papa, is Geoffrey Charles dead?” The blunt, direct question was typical of her. “I asked Valentine but he won’t tell me.”

“Ursula…” It had been on the tip of George’s tongue to lie, but he had seen that there was no point. “Yes, my love, he is. I am so very sorry.”

He could see from her face that a small part of her young mind had hoped that her Papa would tell her she was being silly, that it was all a terrible mistake, but he had not. In the end, she had cried into his coat for an hour, every sob like knife in his chest.

The younger children could sense the terrible cloud of pain that hovered over their once idyllic home, but George absolutely could not bring himself to tell them its cause. Nicholas was certainly far too little. Perhaps the twins were not, but he could at least try to preserve their innocence a little longer.

He was startled out of his reverie by the church door opening behind him, and the soft brush of a woman’s shoes upon the floor. The woman did not hesitate to approach, but he did not look up, not until she stood over him.

“May I sit?”

“Of course, my dear.” Morwenna Carne was a married woman with children now, and almost thirty years old at that, but George still often thought of her as the sweet young girl who had come to them as Geoffrey Charles’ governess. Although she had stopped being that girl when she absconded from her home and her engagement to the odious Osborne Whitworth to marry Drake Carne, a decision which may have caused a great upheaval, but which she had blessedly never had reason to regret.

“How is Elizabeth?…But that is a foolish question, of course.” She shook her head, looking down at hands clasped on her lap. It may have been warm outside, but she was dressed quite sombrely, her long coat a pale grey. In deference to the church, perhaps, or her own way of mourning. The special connection which had formed between her and her charge had never lessened over the years, and although she had endeavoured to bear up for the sake of Elizabeth and the children, George knew she must feel her own sense of loss just as deeply as they did. “I will visit again this week, if she would like.”

“I am sure that she would.” Morwenna had been the only visitor Elizabeth would see. George had turned away several in the first weeks, from the genuinely well-meaning likes of Caroline Enys, to the morbidly nosy Mrs Teague. By now, they had stopped coming. He did not miss them.

“I – I have something I must tell you. Drake says I should not, but I believe it would be wrong of me to keep it to myself.” George looked at her curiously. She sounded regretful, almost guilty, but he could not imagine why. “You will remember when Geoffrey Charles first announced he wished to join the Army? You were both so set against it, but he would not listen to you. Elizabeth begged me to persuade him not to go, and I told her that I would but –“

“But?”

“I did tell him that I did not want him to go, but I also told him that I could not tell him what to do, and that he must trust his own judgement. I encouraged him to go to his death.” Her voice wavered at the last word, and she looked away, her hat covering her face. It would be easy to be angry with her, but he was not. She had not fired the rifle or the canon which had killed Geoffrey Charles – it was not her fault.

“You knew him as well as any of us, Morwenna. Even if you had told him unequivocally that you would never approve of his going, do you think he would have listened?”

“No, I do not suppose that he would,” she conceded after a moment.

“If he had been considering any other decision, I might well have told him the same thing.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod, although she kept her eyes down.

“I just – I wish there was something I could do. To – to make it better.”

“We all wish that, my dear.”

II

All of the pain and misery gathering at the house had to boil over eventually, and it did so one day in early October. The summer had passed in a sort of grey blur, each day much like the next. George continued with his work purely out of necessity – he could take no pleasure in it at all now. Almost one penny in three which passed through his hands had something to do with the war. It had tripled their income, but at a terrible cost. The thought of it had made him somewhat uneasy right from the beginning, but since the loss of Geoffrey Charles he loathed it. He would gladly throw every coin into the sea if he could.

Sometimes, he would forget for moment, and for that all-too-brief second it was as if their world had never been destroyed. As if his dear wife were not consumed by her agony, his children’s young lives falling in the shadow of death. As if he had not lost his son. George had been Geoffrey Charles’ godfather before he became his stepfather; he had held the boy at his christening, encouraged by a smiling Elizabeth, her pure adoration for her child written all over her face. In the first months of George’s marriage to Elizabeth, his relationship with Geoffrey Charles had not been the easiest, but over the years they had become much closer, and George loved him as he loved all of his children. He had never hesitated to tell anyone who asked that he had three sons, and Geoffrey Charles had quite happily introduced his friends to ‘my parents’.

If George was laid low by his grief, it was naturally taking a much greater toll on Elizabeth. She had lost weight, rarely eating, and he knew she was not sleeping properly. Partly because he was not either, but he often woke during the night to find her sitting at the window seat, simply staring out into the darkness, or frequently gone altogether. The servants had told him that she had taken to wandering the house at night, like some melancholy spirit. She would rarely speak unless spoken to, and then very little. The children tiptoed around her, not wishing to upset her further, although she tried her best to hide her sadness from them. It hurt the youngest children the most, because they did not know the reason for their mother’s melancholy.

The time was rapidly approaching for Valentine to go to school. George had considered putting it off, and asked Valentine if he wished to stay at home a while longer. To his surprise, Valentine had said not.

“It is only proper that I go….I do not think Geoffrey Charles would approve if I did not.” That had brought the first genuine smile to George’s face in a long time. Valentine was probably right. Geoffrey Charles had done very well at school, and often spoken of it to his siblings. Upon reflection, George thought that going away might in fact be good for Valentine – he could make new friends his own age, and find something else to think about other than the absence of his brother.

When George had attempted to broach the subject with Elizabeth, she merely nodded her understanding, but commented no further. He had seen her watching sadly as Valentine’s boxes were piled up in the hall, ready to be loaded into the carriage, but she’d turned away as soon as she saw him watching her.

That night, she barely touched her dinner yet again, disappearing into the parlour. George sent Valentine to bed, and looked in on the others, sitting with Ursula until she fell asleep, and watching Nicholas dream his innocent dreams. He found Elizabeth staring into the fireplace, sewing sitting long untouched on the table beside her.

“My dear,” she turned her head slightly towards him. At first, she had clung to him for comfort, but every day he felt her drawing further away, further into herself. He could stand it no longer. “I beg you, you must eat, and I know you have not been sleeping. I cannot bear to see you this way. Geoffrey Charles would not wish you to suffer like this.”

“How would you know?” He was so surprised by her question that he did not answer, and she turned entirely in her chair to face him. “How would you know what he would wish?! You were not his father! If you were any sort of father to him you would have stopped from going! He could still be here, at home, with me, but you let him go! You let him go and now he’s dead!”

George could not reply; her words had cut him deeply, to the point he felt tears prick at the back of his eyelids. After she had finished her tirade, her sudden burst of energy seemed to drain out of her and sat heavily back down, looking away once more. He did the only thing that he could think of – he turned and walked away from her.

He sat up the rest of the night in his study, not wishing to go to bed alone. There was a chamber upstairs set aside for his use, but he and Elizabeth had spent barely more than a handful of nights apart since their wedding. He had no desire to lie alone in a cold bed that smelled of nothing but laundered sheets.

After a while, he opened one of the desk drawers and took out two letters, one well-read, the creases deep from being opened and refolded so many times. The other was almost pristine, despite being several months old. George had read the first letter Geoffrey Charles had sent him after his departure many times over. Despite Elizabeth’s assertions, George had in fact had a furious row with Geoffrey Charles over his decision to enlist – George demanding that he think of his mother and siblings, of his responsibilities to his estate, but Geoffrey Charles had been defiant and in the end George threw up his hands in defeat.

“Very well! Go if you wish!” They had barely spoken thereafter, and George had regretted that their last words had been cross long before Geoffrey Charles was lost. This letter had arrived a few weeks after he left home/

My dear Uncle

I write to you from Plymouth; we depart tomorrow at last. I wish that my departure from home had been a more harmonious one, but I want you to know that I am not upset with you. I understand entirely why both you and Mama feel as you do, and I cannot blame you for it, but I must do what I believe is right. Please be assured that I am happy with my choice, even if it pains me dreadfully to leave you all.

You asked me to think of Mama, and of the children, and of my estate. I could not say it then, but the truth is that I feel able to go because I know they will all be in your excellent care, Uncle. Knowing that you are all waiting for me at home gives me the strength to go forth, and I believe will help me come back safely.

I will write as often as I can, and I ask that you do the same. Tell me all – what new words has Nicholas learned? What little games have the twins devised? Which of the horses has foaled? What gossip is old Mrs Teague spreading now? It will help me to miss you all less.

Please do not be angry with me, Uncle. I could not bear that.

Your affectionate son,

Geoffrey Charles

George could almost recite the words from memory now, and they remained as simultaneously comforting and saddening as ever. Some part of George agreed with Elizabeth – he should have forbidden Geoffrey Charles from going. Or at least tried. He had always indulged Geoffrey Charles, partly out of affection and partly to please Elizabeth, but perhaps he should have been sterner. George glanced at the portrait of Francis on the wall. Its glaze was yellowing now, but his long gone friend’s gaze was as direct as ever. Would Francis have been able to keep Geoffrey Charles at home? With a sigh, George turned to the second letter. It had never been opened, its ominous black seal still in place. The letter the young officer had given George that fateful day; it contained the report of Geoffrey Charles’ death. Nobody had especially wanted to read it, and George had locked it in his drawer. He had taken it out and turned it over in his hands once or twice, but still it remained sealed.

I must read it, he thought. It is only right that I should know the fate I allowed him to go to.

After so long, the wax parted easily from the paper, and George steeled himself for a moment before reading the small, neat hand.

Dear Mr & Mrs Warleggan

It is with regret that I must inform you that your son, Lieutenant Geoffrey Charles Poldark, of the 81st Regiment of Foot, has been killed in action. He fought and died bravely at the Battle of Maida, where the French troops were beaten back by his battalion. I am told that he sustained his fatal wounds while rescuing his fellow men who were pinned down by enemy fire. He served his country with great honour, and his heroism will not be forgotten.

Your &c.

Major Edward Darnley.

So that was it. A single, formal paragraph detailing the end of a young man’s life. George might as well have burned it as read it, it made no difference. He felt neither better nor worse. Geoffrey Charles was still dead; the fact that he was hailed a hero did not change that. Dropping the letter back into his drawer, George closed it with a click and sat back in his chair.

Sometime after midnight, he was disturbed by the door opening, and realised that he must have been dozing. Elizabeth stood there in her night-clothes, her light dressing gown giving her a ghostly appearance in the moonlight. He could see that she had been crying.

“Oh, George, I am sorry for what I said, it was so dreadful.” She came and knelt beside his chair, her eyes shining with tears as she looked up at him. “Of course I do not blame you and it was so very wrong of me to say that I did. And you were a father to Geoffrey Charles, he told me so himself many times over. I spoke so cruelly do you, can you ever forgive me?”

“Oh, my love…” He stroked her cheek softly and she closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“But – “

“No, Elizabeth. I cannot deny that your words cut deep, but only because I have sometimes thought them myself.”

“Oh, George…”  She rested her head on the arm of the chair and gently ran his fingers through her hair. After a few quiet moments, she spoke again. “You were right to say that Geoffrey Charles would not want this for us. For me. I believe he would be quite cross with me, in fact.”

“He would never be cross with you, my love, but I know that he would hate to see you so unhappy. No one could ever blame you for feeling so – certainly not I – but it pains me to see it consume you like this. If you continue as you have, you will make yourself ill and…I cannot bear to lose you as well.”

“George, I am so very sorry. You have only tried to care for me and I have given you nothing in return when you too have been hurting. I have been so selfish, and such a poor mother to the other children besides.”

“You did not want them to see your pain. You have done nothing wrong, Elizabeth, not to my mind. Many others would have done the same in your position.”

“But you did not. You have been so very strong where I have been weak.”

“To grieve is not a weakness, Elizabeth. Your love for Geoffrey Charles is not a weakness. And I will say, I have not felt very strong these past weeks.”

“Oh, my love…” Elizabeth took her hand in both of his and kissed the back of it. “Now, I think, we must both try our best to be strong together. Not just for the children, but for ourselves too. That is what Geoffrey Charles would want.

~

The November air was bitingly cold against his face as George stepped out of the Bank. He had barely been to the offices in months, disliking being away from home, and unable to concentrate. There had been some business he simply could not put off, however, and so he had made the journey into Truro. This time, his reluctance to leave had blessedly little to do with worry. Elizabeth’s release of anger, and their subsequent talk in his study, seemed to have done her some good. She was still grieving, of course; they would all be for some time yet, but he had been pleased to see some of her old warmth return to her. She was eating and sleeping better, and her health was much improved. The children had noticed the uptick in her spirits as well. Until he had been nearly bowled over by Nicholas and the twins barrelling along a corridor after Sarah’s little terrier, he had not realised how quiet they had been of late. Although they had not known the reason for it, their parents’ sadness had subdued them.

Elizabeth still regretted her words to him that night, although he had assured her many times that he was not upset with her. In the heat of the moment he had been stung by hearing his own guilty thoughts from her lips, but he had truly meant it when he told her that she did not need to ask his forgiveness. She had still wished to try to explain herself, turning to him one night in their bed, her brow creased in a small frown.

“For all those weeks, I was so very angry. It built and built inside of me. I was angry at the war, at the generals who order young men to their deaths, at whichever damn Frenchman shot my boy; I was angry at the whole world, even Geoffrey Charles for going in the first place. And then I took my rage out upon you and I realised how foolish I was. It would not bring him back, and all I had accomplished by it was to push you away when I most need you. I know that I have not shown it, but you are my greatest comfort, George. Even long before this, from when we were first married, I have always felt that I could face anything if you are with me.”

“Elizabeth…” Too overwhelmed to say anymore, he had simply gathered her close, kissing her forehead.

It was perhaps remembering this which had him so distracted as he crossed the street towards the confectioner’s that he almost ran into the woman in the green coat. He was halfway through an apology when she looked up from under her hat and he realised it was Demelza Poldark.

Save brief glimpses across a ballroom or a banquet hall, George had barely seen anything of the Nampara Poldarks for he did not know how long. Years. His intense dislike for Ross had never changed, and it was safe to presume it remained mutual, but over time they had both become too preoccupied – and too old – to have a care as to do anything about it. George had sent a note to Nampara to tell them of Geoffrey Charles’ death; they had been his family, after all, and so far as George knew, Geoffrey Charles had still spoken to his aunt and cousins or occasion. For some time afterwards he had half-expected Ross to come barging into Trenwith, demanding they all get out at once. With Geoffrey Charles gone, Ross and his family were the last of the Poldarks, so the family property now surely reverted to them. Not wishing to distress Elizabeth or the children, he had put off broaching the subject of them having to leave Trenwith, but he knew he could not delay much longer.

With a polite nod, he stepped around Demelza and continued on his way, until he was pulled up short by the sound of her voice.

“It’s like a shard of glass in your heart.” Of course he knew exactly to what she referred, for Demelza Poldark had lost a child, too. It was many years ago now, almost eighteen if he was not mistaken, but he was sure such things did not slip easily away into the mists of time. George had thought often these past months of how young Geoffrey Charles had been, how much of his life he had yet to live; Julia Poldark had been barely more than a babe in arms when she died, the question of who and what she would grow up to be left forever unanswered. Behind him, he heard Demelza take a step forward, and he turned his head but did not face her. He did not think that he could. “It pierces your soul, and the agony is so terrible you think it will never end. You think it will kill you. Sometimes, it seems like it’s getting a little better and then something will remind you – a word, a sound – and the pain comes back all over again. One day the wound will heal over, but the scar is always there. It will never stop hurting, but it does get a little better.”

“….” He wanted to say something, but could not. With a short, sharp nod of acknowledgement, he strode away. In her desire to be kind – even after everything that had passed between their families over the years – Demelza had inadvertently re-opened the very wound to which she referred. After he was sure he was out of her sight, he had to spend ten minutes standing in the shadow of the alley next to the shop until he was able to master himself.

III

The answer to the mystery as to why Ross had not come to claim his family property was answered one day early in December when an officious little man appeared at the house, announcing that he was Mr Silas Pettyfer Esq, Geoffrey Charles’ attorney, and he was here to read them his will.

“I would have come earlier, but it seems that the Army neglected to inform me of Mr Poldark’s passing,” he complained in his nasal voice, giving George a look of mild disapproval. “Among others.”

George frowned. He did not especially care to be chastised by complete strangers in his own home, let alone over such a distressing matter.

“I might have informed you, Sir, had I not been entirely unaware of your existence until this moment.” That took the wind out of Mr Pettyfer’s sails somewhat and he coughed awkwardly, fishing in his little folio for some papers.

“Mr Poldark had not informed you he had made a will?”

“Lieutenant Poldark, and no he had not, although I cannot imagine why.”

“Perhaps he did not wish to upset us,” Elizabeth said quietly. George covered her hand with his and she gave him a small, sad smile.

“Shall I begin?” Pettyfer looked between them.

“Forgive me, Mr Pettyfer, but I believe we know its contents, the Nampara Poldarks…”

“Ah, no, Mr Warleggan. That is just it. Mr – Lieutenant Poldark expressly made the will to avoid the automatic passing of the family property.”

“He did?” Elizabeth was frowning, and George knew his expression would match hers.

“Yes, Ma’am. Aside from some small bequests to his cousins – that is, Mr Jeremy and Misses Clowance and Isabella-Rose Poldark – and some personal items willed to, ah, Mr & Mrs Drake Carne, Mr Poldark has left the entirety of his estate to you both, to divide as you wish amongst your remaining children. I have the will here, if you should wish to see it.” George took it, a combination of incredulity at its contents, and years of business teaching him never to agree to a document without reading it. It did indeed reflect what Mr Pettyfer had said, and was, so far as George could see, properly signed and witnessed. He passed the paper to Elizabeth and, out of the corner of his eye, saw her trace the loops and whirls of Geoffrey Charles’ signature with her fingertips.

“Was that everything?” If Mr Pettyfer was displeased at being treated so abruptly, he endeavoured not to show it.

“Not quite. There is also this.” He produced a folded letter. George immediately recognised Geoffrey Charles’ seal. “I was to give it to you if…”

“I see. Thank you.”

“Now, unless there is anything else you wish to discuss I must visit…Nampara?…to discuss those bequests.”

“Does Ross Poldark know that he is no longer to inherit Trenwith?” George did not really know why he asked.

“Yes, I believe Mr Poldark informed him before he made the will.”

“Thank you. If there are any items for them to collect, please tell the Poldark children they may come for them whenever they wish.” George might have once felt some sense of satisfaction at Ross being deprived of the property, but now he felt nothing. It was not the value of Trenwith that would have been the greatest loss. Elizabeth had lived here for most of her life, since she was barely twenty years old and all of the children had been born here; for George, it was the place he had been happiest in his life. It was where all of their memories were. To leave it all behind forever would have been deeply saddening.

After Pettyfer had departed with an obsequious sketch of a bow, George and Elizabeth sat quietly for a while. Eventually, George picked up the letter which had been left on the tea table. He held it out to her, but she shook her head.

“Read it to me? Please?”

“Of course, my love.” They sat close together on the sofa and, as he opened the letter, Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, George prepared to read their son’s final words to them.

My dear Mama, Uncle George, Valentine, Ursula, Susannah, Clare and little Nicholas,

As you are reading this letter, it seems that the worst has come to pass. Before I sat down to write, I thought that it would easy to decide what to say to you all, but now I put pen to paper I find it almost impossible.

There is not enough parchment and ink in the land to capture how much you mean to me, and how deeply I will miss you all. You will be always in my thoughts while I am away from home, and I am sorry if we shall never see each other again. I wish only to come home safely to you all, but of course that must not be the case.

As this is so inadequate a way to express what I wish to say, perhaps I can discuss some everyday matters instead. If Mr Pettyfer has shown you my will, you may be wondering as to its contents. The Poldarks may be my family in name, but you are my family in my heart. If I cannot be there for them in life, I wish to do something for the children in death, even if that is simply to make sure they will always have a home here. I know, Uncle, that you are more than capable of providing for their futures, but let me help you also.

Oh! There is so much in my heart I wish to say, but I cannot make come out of the end of this pen.it is my fervent hope that I have made it all plain to you over the years. Please do not weep too sorely for my memory, but remember the happy times we have all had together.

If I allow myself, I will continue this letter forever, as if by doing do I could put off the event it is designed for. I think I shall have to be content to sign myself…

Your ever loving

Geoffrey Charles

~

There was nothing but a sheet of pure white outside of the windows, wind swirling the flake madly. Snow had been expected all over Christmas but the sky had remained quite clear – much to the disappointment of the children – until almost the very end of January. Now, it seemed quite relentless. Thankfully, Valentine would have arrived safely back at school before it began. He had returned for the Christmas holidays filled with confidence and good cheer, much to his parents’ delight. They had hoped school would be good for him, and so it had proved.

It had been a lovely Christmas in the end, although Geoffrey Charles’ absence had hung heavily over them all. About two weeks before the festive day, George had almost bought him a Christmas present, forgetting for a moment that Geoffrey Charles would not be coming home for the season, or ever again. George looked up now at the fine portrait of him on the wall – a Christmas gift from Morwenna; she had come to George a week before to show it to him.

“It is a larger version of the miniature I painted for his twenty-first birthday. I wanted to ask you if you thought it would be….I am worried it would upset Elizabeth, or the children.”

“No, my dear, quite to the contrary. I believe it would please them very much indeed.” And so it had. Elizabeth had wept a little over it, but not in misery. She had become much more able to remember Geoffrey Charles with happiness. Now, the portrait hung in pride of place over the fire, above another piece of Morwenna’s work – matching silhouettes of George and Elizabeth. She had a truly find hand.

Wet flakes spattered against the windows, obscuring the view even further. George had been writing letters in the parlour – although it would be days before they could go anywhere – and was now resting his eyes; he had been fighting a losing battle against the need for spectacles for several years now, and it was only a matter of time before he was forced to surrender.

With a soft click, the door swung open and Elizabeth entered. The first thing George noticed about her was her dress. Although her spirits had gradually improved these past few months, she had remained in her mourning clothes – her previous array of blues and pinks and greens replaced by grey and black. George had said nothing to her about it; if that was how Elizabeth wished to mourn her child, he would not stop her.

Today, however, the black was gone. Her dress was not quite so bright as some of those she used to wear, but it was a warm brown, almost the exact colour of drinking chocolate. It suited her eyes, and her simple gold necklace.

“Elizabeth….” She glanced down at herself with a soft smile.

“Do you like it?”

“Very much so, my love. But…if I may ask, what has brought this on?” Elizabeth came to sit next to him at the table. There was something different about her, something else besides the dress, but George could not put his finger on what. She was smiling, but she had been doing that more often recently, some of the light returning to her eyes. Of course, their loss would never leave them, but it pleased George to see her able to be happy again.

“The time just seemed right. Although, perhaps there is a particular reason why I feel I must put away my mourning garb.”

“There is?”

“Yes.” She took his hands. “For, although we have suffered a great loss, we have now received a great blessing.”

“What – “ He frowned, and Elizabeth gave him an affectionate look.

“I am with child, George.” He had to confess to being entirely astonished. Such wondrous news…and so unexpected. Elizabeth would be forty-three this year, and as time had passed since Nicholas’ birth, they had come to accept he would be their last child. But now….

“Are you quite certain?”

“Yes!” She frowned a little. “You are pleased, are you not?”

“Of course! Forgive me, my dear, I am simply surprised. Wonderfully surprised.” 

Epilogue

The street was busy today, filled with people – servants hurrying about on errands, gentlemen striding along with importance, ladies twirling their parasols as they strolled. A few carriages trundled by, sunlight glancing off their livery. Two young officers passed by, laughing at some jest, and George felt a pull in his chest.

It was just over a year now since Geoffrey Charles’ death at the Battle of Maida. They missed him as much as ever, but Demelza Poldark had been right – the pain was still there, but it was not quite so sharp as it once was.

Glorious sunshine filled his office at the Bank, making it almost glow. Recently, he had been able to pay more proper attention to his work again. Geoffrey Charles’ desire to provide what he could for the children even if he himself was no longer here had motivated something in George. He could not neglect the businesses he had devoted years of his life to building up, for the sake not only of Valentine, who would one day inherit them, or his other children whose futures depended upon their success, but to all those whose livelihoods were connected to them.

He still preferred to be at home with his family, especially now. Valentine was home from school for the summer, and the children had spent the long, sunny days playing in the gardens. Last summer had been a cold, dark time for them all, and for no reason to do with the weather. Valentine and Ursula still talked of their elder brother, but it was with happy remembrance as much as sadness. The twins had to be told in the end, asking too many questions about when Geoffrey Charles would be coming home. Like their siblings, they had been terribly upset, but had borne their sorrow with impressive maturity for their young age. Nicholas would find out when he was old enough; being so small when Geoffrey Charles left, he had not known his brother the way the others had. Perhaps that would lessen the sting a touch.

After a sip of tea, George stifled a yawn. The reason for his tiredness was their greatest joy – their youngest child, a beautiful baby girl, arrived only a week ago. They had named her Flora, and to them she was a true blessing, a sign of brighter times to come after a truly dark time in their lives. Of course, the fact that she had had a sibling she would never know was always with them, and she would be told all about her brave brother, who had lost his life fighting for what he believed was right.

Returning to his desk, George scanned the shelves behind it for a particular ledger he needed. Behind him the door opened, and a secretary gave a discreet cough.

“Sir, there is a young man here to see you.”

“Show him in, Preston.” George dropped the ledger onto his desk as Preston’s light tread was replaced with a heavier, bolder one. He looked up to greet his visitor and paused. He felt the teacup slip from his hand, heard it crash upon the floor, but he did nothing, frozen in place.

“Good Heavens, Uncle! Am I such a shocking sight?”

~

Title part of a quote from Shakespeare’s Anthony & Cleopatra: “For grief is crowned with consolation.”

[papermoonloveslucy]

MY FAVORITE HUSBAND ~ Season 2

July 2, 1949 - June 25, 1950

“My Favorite Husband” ~ Season two aired on CBS Radio from September 2, 1949 to June 25, 1950.  There were 40 half hour episodes sponsored by Jell-O. Episodes were also aired on Armed Forces Radio & Television Service (AFTRS) without advertising.

Regular Cast: Lucille Ball as Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Cooper, Richard Denning as George Cooper, Gale Gordon as Rudolph Atterbury, Bea Benadaret as Iris Atterbury (and others), Ruth Perrott as Katie the Maid, and Bob LeMond, Announcer.  

Season 2 Guest Cast: 

Hans Conried (17 episodes), Frank Nelson (11 episodes), Hal March (8 episodes), Jay Novello (5 episodes), Eleanor Audley (5 episodes), Peter Leeds (4 episodes), Elvia Allman (3 episodes), Richard Crenna (3 episode), Herb Vigran (2 episodes), Jerry Hausner (2 episodes), Anne Whitfield (2 episodes),  Doris Singleton, Jack Kruschen, Rolfe Sedan, Joe Kearns, Wally Maher, Johnny McGovern, Sam Hearn, Norma Zimmer, Sam Edwards, Jim Backus, Gege Pearson, Joe Forte, Mary Jane Croft, Harry Bartell, and Veola Vonn (1 episode).

To Experience the Full Episode Blogs - for both “My Favorite Husband” and “I Love Lucy” - simply click on the hyperlinked (underlined) text.

“The Elves” ~ September 2, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz and George arrive home from summer vacation to find that someone has been ordering strawberry ice cream from the milkman every day, and the pink trail leads to the doorstep of their new neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Wood, and their ten children.

“The Auction”* ~ September 9, 1949

“The Bank Outing Baseball Game” ~ September 16, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz is determined not to be left out of the baseball game at the Annual Bank Outing, so she persuades her neighbor Mr. Wood to teach her how to play the game.

“The Attic” ~ September 23, 1949

Synopsis ~ One of George’s old Glee Club friends is in town and George wants to find his old ukulele, so he and Liz search for it in the attic but get locked in.

“Women’s Club Election” ~ September 30, 1949

Synopsis ~ George has cause for alarm when Liz is elected treasurer of the local women’s club because he knows how much trouble she has with figures but Liz has a surprise for him.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “The Club Election” (ILL S2;E19) 

“George Needs a Raise”~ October 7, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz tries every trick in the book to convince Mr. Atterbury to give George a raise. To get results she even resorts to selling apples in front of the bank where he is employed.

Basis for “Ricky Asks for a Raise” (ILL S1;E35)

“Too Many Television Sets” ~ October 14, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz can’t get George interested in buying a television set, until they spend an evening at the Atterburys, who have one. With his interest piqued, George arranges one be sent over on trial. Little does he know Liz has done the same thing - as have the Atterbury’s!  

“Liz’s Superstitions” ~ October 21, 1949

Synopsis ~ A chirping cricket in the Cooper’s hearth is driving George crazy, but Liz is convinced it means good luck. When Liz insists that it isn’t lucky to banish a cricket, George gets upset with her superstitions.

“Halloween Surprise Party” ~ October 28, 1949

Synopsis ~ The Atterburys decide to throw a Halloween surprise party for Liz and George, but when Liz hears about their party at the beauty salon, she thinks that she and George just weren’t invited.

“Mother-in-Law” ~ November 4, 1949

Synopsis ~ George gets a letter from his mother that she’s moving to Sheridan Falls. Liz has no doubt that means staying with them!  But when will she ever leave?

Although similarly titled, this radio episode is not the basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy’s Mother-in-Law” (ILL S4;E8) in 1954.

“BABY SITTING” ~ November 11, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz takes up baby sitting to balance her financial books and earn money for George’s Christmas present.

Shares plot elements with the “I Love Lucy” episode “The Amateur Hour” (ILL S1;E14) 

“Liz The Matchmaker” ~ November 18, 1949

Synopsis ~ After dating Mr. Negley the postman for three years, Katie feels that their relationship is not going anywhere, so she enlists Liz’s help!

Although similarly titled and themed, this radio episode is not the basis for the “I Love Lucy” episodes “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15), “Lucy is a Matchmaker” (ILL S2;E27), “The Matchmaker” (ILL S4;E4), or “Lucy, the Matchmaker” (HL S1;E12).

“College Homecoming”* ~ December 2, 1949 

“The French Lessons” ~ December 9, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz and Iris are humiliated when they can’t read the menu at a French restaurant, so they decide to take French lessons. The lessons lead to the prospect of a duel between her favorite husband George and her amorous French teacher.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episodes “The Adagio” (ILL S1;E12) and “The French Revue” (ILL S3;E7)

“George’s Christmas Present” ~ December 16, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz vows to finish knitting George a sweater by Christmas. She finds George’s Christmas presents for her and exchanges it too early.

“The Sleigh Ride” ~ December 23, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz is taken for a sleigh ride (figuratively and literally) when she and her neighbors borrow a milkman’s horse and make a jingle bell trip to the countryside for a yule log. The party turns sour down when the horse insists upon making all the stops on his milk route.

“Liz & George Are Handcuffed” ~ December 30, 1949

Synopsis ~ Liz is playing ‘cops and robbers’ with little Tommy Wood from next door, and lets him handcuff her and George with what turn out to be real handcuffs! During the time the Coopers are linked George finds himself under the hair dryer and Liz later has to stand by at the barber’s while her husband gets a shave.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “The Handcuffs” (ILL S2;E4)

“Is There Another Woman?” ~ January 6, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz buys a book that lists the danger signs to look out for to tell if your husband is being unfaithful, and George has them all!  Liz then she finds herself innocently coupled with her husband’s boss!

“Liz Teaches Iris To Drive” ~ January 13, 1950

Synopsis ~  The Atterburys have bought a new car but Rudolph refuses to teach Iris how to drive. Liz readily volunteers to be Iris’s driving instructor.

“Liz & The Green Wig” ~ January 20, 1950

Synopsis ~ George goes over Liz’s accounts and discovers that she has listed $180 for miscellaneous expenses! George decides she can eliminate the $10 a week she’s spending on her hair. Liz buys a green wig to show George what might happen if she dyed her hair at home.

“Liz Writes a Song” ~ January 27, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz is convinced that she is a musical talent, but when a music professor tells her she’ll never be a singer, she decides to take up songwriting.

Portions of this script were used as inspiration for “The Benefit” (ILL S1;E13)

“Country Club Dance” ~ February 3, 1950

Synopsis ~ Iris and Liz want to go to the country club dance, but George and Rudolph want to go to the fights.  The girls decide to get dates and go anyway, until their plan ends in disaster.

The plot inspired elements of the story in “The Girls Want To Got To A Nightclub” (ILL S1;E1)

“Mrs. Cooper’s Boyfriend” ~ February 10, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz decides that the only way to keep George’s mother from coming over on Valentine’s Day is to get her a boyfriend.

“Liz Teaches the Samba” ~ February 17, 1950

Synopsis ~ George talks Liz into teaching Wally, the son of the bank’s newest director, Mr. Forsythe, how to dance the Samba, and Wally gets a crush on Liz.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” “The Young Fans” (ILL S1;E20)

“Liz Redecorates the House” ~ February 24, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz wants to hire the town’s new interior decorator, Andrew, to redecorate her house, but George tells her she’ll have to do the job all by herself.

Although this script never directly inspired any specific episode of “I Love Lucy” it is most like 1952′s “Redecorating” (ILL S2;E8)

“Women’s Rights - Part 1″ ~ March 5, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz and Iris start a campaign for equal rights, so George and Rudolph take them out to dinner but insist they pay their own check. With no choice but to do dishes, Liz plots to make the boys resent abandoning them - but even when everything is patched up they still want equal rights.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episodes “Equal Rights” (ILL S3;E4)

“Women’s Rights - Part 2″ ~ March 12, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz and Iris have bet George and Rudolph that they can hold down a job, and the boys have bet the girls that they can take care of the housework and cooking.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “Job Switching” (ILL S2;E1)

“The Wills” ~ March 19, 1950

Synopsis ~  After Liz and George make out their wills, Liz is convinced that George intends to do away with her. Liz is startled to find a receipt for some arsenic and rope in his pocket, but is shocked when George suggests a trip to the country - with a one-way ticket for Liz!

Basis for a scene in “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy Thinks Ricky Is Trying to Murder Her” (ILL S1;E4) 

“Liz’s Radio Script” ~ March 26, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz’s entry is a finalist in a playwriting contest, and the Coopers and the Atterburys perform it on the local radio station.

Portions of this script inspired the “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy Writes a Play” (ILL S1;E17)

“April Fool”* ~ April 2, 1950

“Hobbies” ~ April 9, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz and Iris are tired of waiting at home on weekends while George and Rudolph are at the golf course, so they decide to leave half-smoked cigars around the house to make the boys jealous.

Some elements that were later used on “I Love Lucy” in “The Golf Game” (ILL S3;E30) 

“Anniversary”* ~ April 16, 1950

“Liz Appears on Television” ~ April 23, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz and Iris make an appearance on a television show celebrating Friendship Week. Their friendship is tested, though, when they discover they’ve bought the same dress for the occasion.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3) 

“Spring House Cleaning” ~ April 30, 1950

Synopsis ~  Liz sends George an anonymous love letter that she wrote to him during his bachelor days, and he thinks its from his secretary, Gladys.

”The Health Farm” ~ May 7, 1950

Synopsis ~  Liz and Iris are fed up with their husbands taking them for granted, so they check in to a fat farm.

This episode features elements that later went into the “I Love Lucy” episodes “The Diet” (ILL S1;E3) and “The Charm School” (ILL S3;E15) as well as the “Lucy Show” episode “Lucy and the Countess Lose Weight” (TLS S3;E21)

“Numerology” ~ May 14, 1950

Synopsis ~ Mr. Curry, George and Liz’s landlord, is raising the rent, supposedly on instructions from his late wife, Bernice. Liz figures that she can fix things with a crooked Ouija Board.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “The Seance” (ILL S1;E7). It is a revision of the script used for “My Favorite Husband” episode #24, also titled "Numerology” when the characters were then known as the Cugats.

“Mrs. Cooper Thinks Liz is Pregnant” ~ May 21, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz tells George’s mother that she’s ill so the older Mrs. Cooper won’t try to come to Liz’s bridge game, but George’s Mother thinks Liz is really pregnant, and tells all of Liz’s friends what she thinks.

“Liz Sells Dresses” ~ May 28, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz accidentally returns a dress to a more expensive store than where she bought it, and makes money on the deal. She then decides to go into business buying dresses at one store and returning them at another.

Basis for a scene in “I Love Lucy” episode “The Freezer” (ILL S1;E29). It was a revision of the script for episode #14 from season one, when the characters were known as the Cugats. 

“George is Messy” ~ June 4, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz is fed up with George’s messy habits around the house, so she draws a line down the middle of the living room and divides the house in two -her half and half his.

Basis for “Men Are Messy” (ILL S1;E8) of “I Love Lucy”

“Liz Learns to Swim” ~ June 11, 1950

Synopsis ~ George makes a bargain with Liz: If she’ll learn to swim, they can go to the beach with the Atterburys for their vacation.

“Be a Pal” ~ June 18, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz feels thinks George would rather not spend time with her anymore, so she tries everything she can think of to be a pal to her husband.

Basis for the “I Love Lucy” episodes “The Camping Trip” (ILL S2;E29) and “Be a Pal” (ILL S1;E2). It is a revision of the “My Favorite Husband” season one episode "Be Your Husband's Best Friend" when the characters were named Cugat.

“Dance Lessons” ~ June 25, 1950

Synopsis ~ Liz cons George in to taking her to a nightclub by telling him it is to celebrate their anniversary but it is actually to celebrate the anniversary of the last time they went out to a dinner dance.

[pcwpolwrestling]

Shutdown Showdown-PCW Newsline

1/10/2019 PCW NEWSLINE

The Shutdown Continues

The Media Reacts

Kellyanne Conway and Jim Acosta Get Into It

PCW Heartland Rankings

This Week on PCW Extreme Political TV

CURRENT CHAMPIONS: Universal PCW Champion: ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay (Independent/Les Miserables) Universal PCW Tag Team Champions: Sports Entertainment Corporation: P.M.C. Banks and Charlie Blackwell Universal PCW Women’s Champion: ‘Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin (Independent) PCW Red Brand Champion: Kirk Walstreit- the Wall Street Market Analyst with the Man Crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit PCW Blue Brand Champion: Vacant PCW Red Brand Tag Team Champions: Banks and Blackwell PCW Blue Brand Tag Team Champions: Union Jack Taylor and the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior

===

LAST WEEK ON EXTREME POLITICAL TV: The shutdown continues. How is the media covering the shutdown?

Colleen Crowder: Our narrative is that the shutdown is all Donald Trump’s fault plus it’s wrong that PCW Heartland owner Dawn McGill gets to run her shows while the PCW Blue and PCW Red Brand shows…bigger shows…are forced to stay home.

PCW Heartland Owner Dawn McGill delivers a warning to the Establishment.

Dawn McGill: I said this on May 14th, 2017 and it holds true today. Paul Ryan or Kevin McCarthy whoever in charge there don’t get it. Mitch McConnell, Nancy Pelosi, and Chuck Schumer don’t get it. I still wonder sometimes if Donald Trump actually gets it.   But let me make this clear to the Establishment…PCW is not here for you. PCW is not here for the Sports Entertainment Corporation and CSPN. PCW is not here for the American Patriots. PCW is not here for the Progressive Alliance. PCW is here for…YOU…the fans. We don’t need the American Patriots. We don’t need the Progressive Alliance. All we need to succeed is you…and your support.

Nancy Pelosi adjourns Executive Committee meeting early leaving American Patriots wondering what’s going on.

Pelosi moves to adjourn for the weekend. Steny Hoyer (MD-Progressive Alliance) seconds. The Progressive Alliance quickly stands and streams out the door as fast they can leaving a confused and bewildered American Patriot Leader Kevin McCarthy (CA-American Patriots) looking at the American Patriots in the room.

Kevin McCarthy: Hey! Where’d everyone go? Does anybody know what’s going on?

Elizabeth Warren has a beer at the show.

Back from the break, the camera pans up to where Elizabeth Warren (MA-Progressive Alliance) is sitting in the crowd. She’s having a beer and talking with the people surrounding her.

Colleen Crowder: All Elizabeth Warren is doing is trying to show that she’s an ordinary person…no different than anyone else.

Johnny Suave: Because most ordinary people pretend to be a member of a protected class in order to gain preferential treatment at one of the world’s most prestigious universities.

New Universal PCW Champion Ray McAvay speaks.

Ray McAvay: The wrestlers of the PCW Red and Blue Brands are sitting at home right now because the Progressive Alliance and the American Patriots can’t agree on anything. We are here in Topeka, Kansas this afternoon because we are here for you…my way is different from most professional wrestlers. I’m an average schmuck. I show up. Punch in. Shut up. And get to work.

Heartland Title Tournament Semi-Finals. -Jack Fraiser defeats Average Joe in the first semi-final. -’The One Man American A-List’ Stone Chism defeats SNAFU in the second semi-final

===

SHUTDOWN UPDATE An emergency meeting took place this past Tuesday night with the PCW Red and Blue Brand wrestlers, PCW CEO Donald Trump (NY-American Patriots), Nancy Pelosi (CA-Progressive Alliance) and Chuck Schumer (NY-Progressive Alliance).

Trump spoke first and once again urged the Executive Committee to agree to his security enhancements to make PCW show a safer place for the fans. Trump emphasized that he wanted to get the PCW Red and Blue Brands back to work. But as long as Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer refuse to even consider his plan, he will keep the shows shut down.

Next, Pelosi and Schumer spoke to the assembled wrestlers concerning the grave situation.

Pelosi went first. She grimly states Trump has chosen to hold the Red Brand and Blue Brand hostage until he gets his way. Pelosi agrees that we need to secure our shows. But she alleges Trump has manufactured a crisis and is hurting the families of the all the wrestlers who have been effectively locked out of their jobs.

Schumer, who appeared uber glum, wants to separate the shutdown of PCW shows from the arguments about security. We can secure our shows without building a literal wall between our fans and our wrestlers. Schumer also calls this a manufactured crisis and says let’s get the Blue and Red Brand shows going again and work this out.

How did it play out? Longtime Progressive Alliance adviser James Carville had this to say.

James Carville: I’ve been more excited about colonoscopies than he (Schumer) was giving his speech tonight. He didn’t want to be there.

A meeting was scheduled for Wednesday between Trump, Pelosi, and Schumer to continue to discuss the issue. Could both sides ratchet down the rhetoric and work together to find an end to the crisis?

VIDEO: Wednesday Meeting Between Trump, Pelosi, and Schumer

[Trump walks in and sits down across from Pelosi and Schumer.]

Donald Trump: What’s going to happen in thirty days if I reopen the Red and Blue Brand, will you agree to approve the improved security enhancements I’m proposing?

Nancy Pelosi: No.

Donald Trump: Okay.

[Trump stands back up and starts for the door.]

Chuck Schumer: Hey? Where are you going?

Donald Trump: I’m not wasting my time.

Chuck Schumer: You can’t leave!

Donald Trump: Didn’t Nancy Pelosi adjourn the Executive Committee early last week so the Progressive Alliance could leave instead of negotiating with the American Patriots?

Nancy Pelosi: That’s different.

[Trump exits.]

So apparently no.

The Guild of Low Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves had this to say:

‘Low Level Reporter at the New York Times Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Colleen Crowder: Trump has fabricated this crisis. Again, this is why we need a new CEO.

‘Low Level Reporter at CNN Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Sharon Johns: Donald Trump is being petulant. He's trumped up this 'crisis' and is keeping wrestlers from making a living. The Progressive Alliance is right to dig their heels and refuse to consider any other view other than theirs because their view is correct.

‘Low Level Reporter at the Washington Post Trying to Make a Name for Himself’ Dan Miller: Trump is wrong. He’s being a child. His argument has no merit and we agree with the Progressive Alliance over this manufactured crisis.

‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave had this to say.

Johnny Suave: So I guess the moral of this story it’s okay when it’s clear Nancy Pelosi has no intention to negotiate when she adjourns the Executive Committee last week so the Progressive Alliance can leave the American Patriots and go home for the weekend…but it’s not okay for Donald Trump to get up and leave when it’s clear Pelosi has no intention of negotiating.

Crowder, Miller, and Johns all begin to cough…

Colleen Crowder (coughing): …that’s different…

Dan Miller (also coughing): …whataboutism…

Sharon Johns (also also coughing): …false equivalency…

Colleen Crowder (coughing): …let’s move on…

Dan Miller (coughing): …move on…

Sharon Johns (coughing): …yes…move on…

===

CONWAY-ACOSTA SKIRMISH Trump aide Kellyanne Conway tangled with CNN’s Jim Acosta before the Tuesday meeting.

Jim Acosta: Kellyanne, can you promise the PCW CEO will tell the truth tonight?

Kellyanne Conway: Yes, Jim. Can you promise that you will? The whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God? Am I allowed to mention ‘God’ to you?

Acosta fired back that he doesn’t have an ‘alternative facts’ problem like she does.

Kellyanne Conway: Make sure that goes viral. This is why I’m one of the only people around here who gives you the time of day. You’re such a smartass most of the time and I know you want this to go viral.

Jim Acosta: Ma’am?

Kellyanne Conway: Don’t you ma’am me. Don’t you put it back in my face for all corrections your network needs to issue. I was on your network 25 or 26 times in 2018. I’m one of the last people here who even bothered to go on, and the disrespect you show to me personally, I’ll look past it. By the way, isn’t this you at a PCW House show this past weekend showing that security enhancements actually work?

VIDEO: Poplar Bluff, MO House Show

[A video appears. Acosta is standing in line to go to a PCW Heartland house show in Poplar Bluff, Missouri.]

Jim Acosta: There’s nothing here resembling an emergency situation.

[There’s extra security in place. There’s dividers in place that help separate people.]

Jim Acosta: There’s no people rushing to get into the building.

[The whole process is smooth and orderly.]

Red-faced, Acosta’s jaw drops. He turns and runs off.

===

PCW HEARTLAND RANKINGS

Heartland Title Champion: TBD #1 Contender: ‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism/Jack Fraiser #2 Contender: SNAFU #3 Contender: Average Joe #4 Contender: Justin Beaver (SEC)

Heartland Tag Team Title Champion: Weapons of Mass Destruction: A. Tom Bomb and Hy Drogen Bomb #1 Contender: The Dork Dynasty: Leonard and Sheldon Robertson #2 Contender: Island of Misfit Wrestlers: Rah and Halitosis #3 Contender: The Beer Bellied Softball Playing Ninja: Hank and Tiny #4 Contender: The Green World Order: ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee and GreenPete

===

THIS WEEK ON PCW EXTREME POLITICAL TV We will find out who the new Heartland Champion is going to be? Will it be the ‘One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism? Or will it be Jack Fraiser backed by his Oootlander Claire Rendell?

‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels is upset over the Les Miserables ‘intrusion’ of the Golden Globes earlier this week. Daniels plans to address the issue at Extreme Political TV.

PCW Heartland Owner Dawn McGill and Professor McCarthy of Berkeley, California meet…no, not in a ring but in Dawn’s office about the incident at Extreme Election Night 2018 where McGill threw McCarthy over the railing and through two tables below.

The SEC tries to explain the Clemson-Alabama game this past Monday night.

And the latest on the PCW Shutdown of the Red Brand and Blue Brand shows.

 All this and more this Sunday night on Extreme Political TV.