#my mother thought doing 25 name cards + framing them all

[quiltcas]

I wish people really understood how much effort, time, and money is takes to knit something.

Even if it's small!

Like yeah no sorry dude I'm not going to make 30 pumpkins for you for free. I'm honored you think I have enough time and generosity for that.

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

Sacrifice Chapter 1

So I'm trying to edit chapter 1 of Sacrifice because I really don't like it and even I can tell how much my writing style has changed in three ish months but I can't figure out exactly whats wrong with it and since I've never shared anything on here ever thats this long and also I need want someone's opinion on this (Please & thank you very much), here's the first chapter of Sacrifice. I already know a bunch of stuff I'm cutting out the awkward romance part specifically i really should not even attempt to write stuff like that its just awkward but I can't figure out exactly what else is wrong with it so this is my solution instead. You sincerely truly don't have to read it if you don't want to I just thought this might be a good idea. And also its something to do if you're bored.

It's below the cut.

Taglist: @golden-eyed-writer

I grinned. Anne and Enna were arguing over the rules of Gin, while Anne, she was Enna’s twin, anyway, while Anne’s kids played tag with my nephew, Zane. Jen and Zebra collided in the middle of the room, and Zane didn’t stop in time, so they ended up in a pile of tangled limbs. My sister emerged from the other room and sighed, then burst into laughter, her wavy, silver tipped, black hair bouncing up and down. We were nearly identical, same silver blue eyes, silver tipped black hair, and dark skin. Our scales were different though. Ana’s smooth, tear drop shaped, silver scales covered her collarbone and wound down one arm; mine encircled my torso. Mine were easier to hide, but more people knew about them. I cast a lot of wind spells.

Ana only showed her scales to people she trusted, so walking in the room in a black tank top was a statement. Anne and Enna were identical, and their names mirrored each other. Blue black hair, Anne’s in twin buns and Enna’s in a half ponytail. Alabaster skin tinged with blue, and blue eyes. They had wings, but Enna was grounded. There was a knock on the door of Lei’s apartment. Lei, a blond Demonsblood, was standing closest to the door and pulled it open, sticking her head out. Two seconds later a boy dressed in the Barony’s colors entered.

“Uh, is there any person named,” He checked the sheet of paper clutched in his hands, “Anne Jones & Enna Helder-Kromlin here?” The twins stood up from the corner and scowled briefly, then Enna darted across the room, grabbed the paper, read it, and swore in Dragon.

“You can go now.” Said Faith, Lei’s redheaded younger cousin.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled, then scampered away. “What is it? Dennis explode something again?” Asked Anne, striding over.

“There’s a gnome, blond, asking to see us. The note says she’s carrying the seal of the last baron.” Her twin answered in a shocked voice.

“Mae?”

“Maybe.” While they conversed, and Ana shrugged her jacket off after yanking it on when the door was opened, there was a second knock. Emily, a gnome alchemist and a friend of ours, answered this time, and her lavender eyes stared unseeing into the face of a second messenger. This one had a message for Ana. After reading it, my twin turned to me and grinned. Ana’s smile sometimes scared people. We both had pointed, sharp canine teeth, courtesy of our draconic ancestry. And that had the side effect of looking like you were about to murder someone when you smiled.

“Cerea’s alive. She’s here, with the gnome En mentioned. Joshua recognized the name.” A rush of emotions went through me. Two hundred and seventy four years ago mine and Ana’s home had been burned to the ground by Dizerdrat, an ancient red dragon. Cerea had been the name of a half elf with impressive innate primal magic, who had left when she was twenty, three months befor A'sshyse burned, leaving us the only survivors. The name was a bit ironic actually, A'sshyse sounded like Ashes if pronounced correctly, and that’s all it was now. Ashes and memories.

We didn’t bother to say anything, no one did. Two sets of twins walked out the door, leaving confusion, five friends, and three ten year olds behind. Enna twisted around before leaving, threatening, “If anyone touches those cards I will kill you.” Then she ran, and the second she and Anne were outside they broke out into a full out sprint, matching each other pace for pace. When we got to the main hall area, which had a bunch of alcoves off it that served as slightly more private spaces for meetings and the like, Anne and Enna had already tackle hugged a gnome with curly blond hair, and a black haired half elf stood nearby, awkwardly. Enna was whispering,

"Thirty five years Mae. Thirty five goddamn years. Where were you?"

“I was- Thirty five years?!”

“Yes.” Answered Anne. Mae rounded on the half elf, who put her hands up in a sign of surrender. Before the gnome could get a word out Cerea spoke.

“I didn’t know alright? I’m bad with time.”

“Still. You should have told me!”

“I know. I should have done a lot of things.” It was at that moment she looked in our direction, and saw us. Ana didn’t hesitate, rushing in to embrace a woman she hadn’t seen in nearly three hundred years. I hung back a bit. Not because of my sister, but because me and Cerea hadn’t exactly parted on… civil terms. Half a minute later Ana grabbed my arm, muttering Draconic into my ear.

“I don’t care what happened last time. You never got over it, I doubt she did.”

“Erm, okay-”

Cerea interrupted. “You survived?! What in the nine hells happened to A’sshyse?!”

“Dragonfire.” Ana answered. Then I blurted out, in Dragon, before I had to wait another three centuries to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was stupid, and, and an idiot-” Cerea intterupted in the same language.

“Yes, you were sometimes. But I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said what I said. We were both wrong about the other.” She hugged me tightly, but quickly. As Cerea stepped away I noticed how much toll the last three hundred years had taken on her. She still had raven hair and coffee colored skin, but the freckles that once covered her face were gone. Her eyes still had the same twinkle, but the green was darker, closer to emerald than I’d ever seen them and older than they should be.

“So where were you?” Asked Enna, directing the question at Mae.

“I was petrified. I left right after you guys killed Shallodet, and then it’s a blur until waking up to find my very surprised teacher.”

Enna shuddered at the mention of the name. Shallodet was not a pleasant memory for her.

“Teacher?”

“Yeah. Anne & Enna, this is Cerea Roven. Cerea, these are my sisters. Anne and Enna Helder.”

“Helder-Kromlin. Claimed Mom’s name properly. But I’m not forgetting Helder. It’s hyphenated now. Drove the official crazy.” Corrected Enna. Anne followed with,

“Erm, it’s actually Anne Jones. I might have gotten married.”

“Sorry, what?!”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Hi?” Cerea grinned awkwardly, raising one hand in a half wave for a brief second. “Who’s the Gnome?” Asked Ana.

“I’m Mae Helder. Who are you?”

“Anastasia. Call me Ana. He’s Dash.”

“Hey. So you’re their sister?” I asked, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

“Uh huh. How’d you meet these two?”

“The War.” Answered Ana.

“War? What War?”

“Little sister, you’ve missed a lot. About a decade ago there was a War. Norfolk is gone.”

“Wow. Anything else I need to know?”

“Well, here’s the slight matter of there being a different Baron.”

“What?!”

“His name is Fredrick Falk.”

“Wait. Does that mean?”

“Yeah. He’s gone. Died about two years after you left.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s okay.” The previous Baron had been the first person who had believed in Enna for a long time. When he died she had taken it hard. He had been the latest in a long line of parental figures; and each one had died.

Pike, her adopted mother, had died when she was 10. Her older brother, Zibra, had died when she was nineteen, and everyone thought it was her fault. Everyone except Anne. Her mentor, a half-dragon named Sasha, had died when she was twenty eight. When she was 40 she came back to the capital, only to find Anne missing. She thought it was her fault. Anne had nearly died. Then her Uncle, her mother’s twin, had turned out be her mother’s murder, confessed to killing Zibra and framing her, then he tried to kill both the twins, leaving Enna with thin scars that covered her arms, shoulders, back & torso.

“Anyway, why are you here?”

“Well,” Said Cerea nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. “Gray has heard some things, concerning things. They’re actually what led to me finding Mae.”

“What things?” I asked.

“The forges, the ones under the mountain, are waking up again.”

“I still don’t understand why he would put forges there, of all locations.” Muttered Anne.

“You need to tell someone.”

“That’s why we came here. Under the Code, you need two high ranking Druids to request a meeting with a ruler.”

“That’s surprisingly smart for a twenty five year old.” Said Enna, perhaps the third time in her life she had judged someone because of their apparent age. Cerea, unsurprisingly, burst out laughing.

“I’m two hundred and ninety ish. Can’t remember the exact number. Not 25.”

“Two hundred and ninety four.” I muttered quietly.

“Two hundred and ninety four, then. Either way, I’m not twenty five.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Twenty five is the oldest anyone’s ever thought I looked. I had a couple friends, a few years ago, they thought I was nineteen. Never got around to correcting them.”

“Uh-huh.” I muttered. Cerea had always looked young for her age, and it, plus her innate and extremely powerful primordial magic and wildshaping powers, had allowed her to get away with more things than the average kid would. Most of these exploits were related to stealing jelly tarts, which Ana stole from her and I then stole some of them from Ana. Yeah, fourteen year old me probably had better things to do than steal pastries from a 7 year old prankster, but it was either that or get possessed again, which is not an experience I’d recommend to anyone.

Yes, you read that correctly. Possessed. It’s a very long story that will probably come to light in time. Probably. Either way, we were interrupted by Joshua, the Baron’s 19 year old half-dragon grandson materializing from out of nowhere. His brown curls were more rumpled than usual, and his blue eyes shown with exhaustion. Joshua’s robes, the outfit commonly worn by wizards-in-training, were rumpled, like he had slept in them. He wasn’t strictly half dragon, closer to a quarter dragon. His dad’s dad had been a black dragon. His Mum, the Baron’s youngest daughter, had eloped with his dad and Joshua had only been raised in the court after his parents died in an Orc raid when he was seven. Before you ask, yes most of us had/have sob stories for backgrounds. Happy people who are mentaly stable don’t go out and hunt literal dragons.

Either way, the top half of his face, on a diagonal from right to left, was covered in smooth, black scales. They continued down his neck, and onto one arm. Joshua asked, “So you guys do know each other. I mean, I didn’t think there were a lot of black haired and crazy powerful half elven druids, but hey. There could’ve been more than one. Anyway, Grandpa’s ready to talk to you two. You know how to get there?”

“Yep.” Confirmed Mae, leading Cerea down the hallway. Joshua stayed, leaning against the stone wall.

“Hey.” Anne raised one hand half heartedly, in a sort of wave.

“Hi.”

“So I know how Ana & Dash know the mildly terrifying druid lady, but how do you two know the Gnome?”

“She’s our sister.”

“But neither of you are two Gnomes in a trench coat. So how?”

“I don’t even own a trenchcoat.” Muttered Enna.

“Exactly.”

“She’s our adopted sister, our foster mother fostered her too, though we didn’t know that then.”

“You had a foster mother?”

Anne sighed. “Yes. Pike Helder. Why do you think we speak Gnome?”

“I don’t know. Figured you just knew a lot of Gnomes.”

“I mean, we do, but that’s not the point.”

“Also, I think we would know if you guys were just Gnomes in trenchcoats.” I remarked.

“Yeah, I think you would.” Said Anne.

“You okay?” Ana asked Joshua, probably in response to his disheveled appearance.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m fine. Just stressed.” Ana scoffed, but didn’t say anything more. Enna turned to me. Her arms were crossed.

“Spill.”

“What?” I asked cluelessly. Anne added, “You and Cerea have history. What is it?,” she asked, her body language the same as her twin.

“Nothing, we just knew each other as kids.” “Uh huh.” “So that’s all?” “Yes,” I lied. Anne laughed.

“It’s almost like he thinks we don’t know that he’s lying.” “Yeah.” I looked anywhere except at the twins.

“It wasn’t anything!” I said, coming way closer to yelling than I should.

“You apologized to each other in Dragon when you saw each other.” I swore under my breath. I had forgotten Enna knew Dragon. I tended to forget she knew a lot of languages, Elven not among them in spite of her heritage.

“That was nothing.” I mumbled.

“It was not nothing. I saw Ana’s expression when she saw Cerea. She looked like her best friend had just come back to life.”

“She has.”

“Please. We all know you’re Ana’s best friend. If it’s not you, it’s Zane. Anyway, Ana looked like her best friend had just come back to life. But you, you looked like, I don’t even know how to describe it. You looked a lot like Anne when she got married to Jones. You looked like you were in love.”

“No-o. Not in love with her. Dated her once, sure, maybe we kissed a couple times, but I’m not in love with her,” I protested, turning redder than Faith’s hair, which was very, very red. “Dash, either I tell them or you do.” Threatened Ana, switching into rapid Demonic. Demonic was the one language we both knew that the twins didn’t speak.

“Can we not do this now?!” I replied, in the same language.

“What, you don’t want all our friends to know that you and Cerea were etinye aka?” She asked, using an Elven word.

“No, I would prefer not. And I really think that Cerea wouldn’t either.” “You’d be surprised. She’s changed a lot in 300 years.”

“And how would you know? You’ve seen her about as much as I have.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking. “I knew she was alive.”

--------End Chapter 1---------

If you've read this far THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[cloveroctobers]

ROBERT “BOBBY” MCKENZIE —

IG info/bio : @/returnofdamckenzie | 426k followers | @/mclitgs2 is my forever boo🤟🏽😍 while @/cardib is my WIFE! She just doesn’t know it yet ❤️ support my work & be part of my family: @/bobbymckcares

24 (25) years young

Born in Dundee, raised in Glasgow, Scotland

Jamaican father named Badrick who is a African studies professor

Caucasian/Scottish mother named Catriona who used to be a au pair but now works as a receptionist in senior living — one eye is honey hazel and the other a dark brown

It was difficult growing up in a school that didn’t accept Bobby being biracial, it resulted in bullying to the point where he needed to switch schools (A lawsuit was also in place) The next school was slightly better but Bobby slowly learned to accept himself as it was not something he could control and not something he would want to in the first place. He was proud of where he came from and never thought he was better or less than anyone else, that wasn’t how he was raised

He’s an only child, his parents thought about adopting (and fostering) but with Bobby they had their hands full and he was just enough for them

His family is very family-oriented so he would never have to feel lonely since they gave him a lot of attention, slightly making him spoiled but he was also around his cousins & spending time with them as well

He’s extremely close to his younger cousin (only by a few months) Femi who he views as his sister. They’ve been through a lot together and are always there for each other so it only makes sense

Most likely an active kid always up to some sort of shenanigans whether it’s by himself or with his group of friends, “why would you do that Bobby?” “Don’t ask why but ask, why not!?”

Definitely suffered some broken bones, concussions, & sprain injuries but would never show signs of pain...guys got a high pain tolerance that’s for sure

Fan of films/series “stand by me” & “the goonies” & “scooby doo” since he feels they relate to his life??

Hospital caterer and loves making those feel better with food that he’s created. If he can’t put a smile on patients face with words then he feels like he can show them with food

Food is an art to him. He went to school for culinary & it’s very important for him to show how much it is to him. He picked up the craft from of course his family, who always used food for numerous of things: to bring people together is one of them

Perfected Jerk haggis, it is now he favorite dish next to desert & breakfast!

I’m struggling to figure out what sign he maybe? He’s very playful which may come off as childish at times, which makes me think of Leo? (Maybe Gemini?) Only because they usually hold onto their childhood as best as they can, very generous, & give their energy to you but I also don’t see him being a fire sign at all? So maybe very little Leo in his chart. I also feel like he might be a bit of an empath? He knows when situations around him don’t feel right, knows how to read the room, and always wants to help others by lighting things up.

Idk but I’m feeling he’s libra sun + Gemini moon + Leo rising? Who knows

Probably lived in a 2 bed flat with his old uni mate. It was small and a bit shit but it was their shit and they made the best of it

Now lives in a stone cottage or farmhouse with MC that was built in the 1900’s & is slightly haunted. He’s decided to call them Duncan??? But he believes they’re a good spirit, maybe even a friendly ghost!? since he got comfortable with the bizarre happenings in the new flat & it doesn’t seem like they want to hurt them

Lottie offered to bring her ouija board next time she visited—Bobby declined

House is mostly neutral based but three of the rooms in the flat are covered in ridiculous patterned walls or furniture much to MC’s distaste but, “what’s yours is mine” right? No. But Gary approves!

Has two dogs: a terrier & a collie since MC wasn’t down for getting a sheep

They do have chickens to raise their own eggs tho!

Definitely the kind of significant other that will ride on the cart when they’re out grocery shopping, will make you breakfast in bed, & will send you memes while he’s at home and you’re out or even when he’s at work and you’re at home, let’s you put his arm to sleep when you’re laying on it in bed (big ass head gang!), definitely chooses the candles from bath & body works that smell like food items (majority of them suck let’s be honest)

Probably smells like cucumber, melons, lemons, and eucalyptus

Has your wedding date in his IG bio & is proud

Annoys Gary & Lottie with his food pics, “oh, Not this shit again! 😡 looks brilliant, but enough!”

Has zoom/FaceTime movie nights with Marisol & MC who stopped feeling like she was third-wheeling months ago

Talks to hope & Noah (in the background) as much as he can. Feels like they’re his inspiration for love, even tho he’s the only one married out of the villa

He values marriage just like his parents do and often has Sunday dinners with them & MC ofc

Probably has relationship guide books and only reads them out of boredom but finds fascinating facts/advice if he pays attention & tries to apply it to his relationship with mc. If it works, it works! & If it doesn’t, you can’t say he didn’t try!

Works long hours but will still come home to cook for MC or brings leftovers from the events he’s catered (most are for the hospital but occasionally he’ll do other events)

Has a separate IG for his work

When WAP dropped, he almost lost his shit. Even tried to get MC to do the challenge with him, he’s pretty bad but MC eventually learned it just for him 😜

Is thrilled that Cardi made the best decision EVER on divorcing offset, “are you thinking of leaving me now?” “... I might.” “BOBBY!” “Haha, I love you!

Absolutely loves Christmas!!! It’s his favorite holiday and he loves giving back to everyone in his life. Usually he’s working overtime for the holidays & it makes him emotional due to the stories he hears & he puts a little extra love in his food

Goes all out for Christmas. Tries to buy/make everyone something. Even if he doesn’t really care for them...he’ll at least send them a x-mas card, if they keep it or burn it it’s entirely up to them—if he knew about it he’d probably be a little sad not gonna lie...he’s a soft king

Once bought Lottie black crocs with spooky pins , “are you joking Bobby?!” He knows she secretly loved them

Uses salt and peppermint in his dark hot cocoa...

Rather make deserts for Christmas than the food, he feels like it’s his duty

King of giving the thumbs up, especially when situations have gone to shit. He’ll still shoot them up with a smile or a grimace

Always inviting someone somewhere. “Bobby, hun. You’re 4-6 hrs away and it’s 1 am.” Hope groaned after listening to his bright idea, thinking something bad happened. “Ah, you could still make it if you tried, lassie.” “I’m gonna hang up now. Good night, bonkers man.”

Needs constant reminding when to get his locs touched up & moisturized

Either has a trampoline or a funhouse jumper in his backyard (maybe both) “we’ve got the space and this is better than a pool, or almost!”

Wants children, a whole footie team! There’s no specific time frame for him, when it happens, it happens

Used to cool & wet temps & loves vacationing in Greenland. Sure the hot weather he experienced in the villa was awesome & something different than what he’s used to but you can’t take the scot out of the man. So he typically sticks to places that are similar in temps, that way he doesn’t have to change his clothing choices much

Loves a good bath. Bubble baths are better than bath bombs to him, PERIOD!

Loves bubbles so much he put too much laundry detergent in the wash (does this on purpose now) and came back home to the dogs and room covered in it. Do you think he cleaned it up before MC came home? No. He decided to have a bubble party in the room with a Caribbean playlist playing in the background

MC definitely posted about it the first time & joined him for a bit, dreading the work that came with cleaning it all up. Now whenever Bobby needs a bubble party, he knows what to do. MC preferred him to have his little bubble party in the tub but 50% of the time he chooses not to listen & they leave him to pout & clean it himself

Likes to hold hands with fingers interlocked. When it’s cold and if you’re both wearing hoodies, he’ll slide his hand inside the arm of your hoodie to help keep you warm

Canon: His version of a snack is spaghetti hoops on toast & can eat that for the rest of his life & be content

If he didn’t end up marrying MC, probably finds his significant other working as a nurse at one of the hospitals he caters to or a volunteer at a old folks home

Never had a serious relationship, very few hookups, was either always placed in the friend zone or there was one person he wanted to be serious with but they rejected him and continued loving someone else who treated them like shit—so he kinda swore off of relationships and just flirted a bunch and kept his love life non-existent

Fav ice cream? Rocky road ice cream with one scoop of cotton candy & one scoop of cookie butter blue

Doesn’t believe in measuring when it comes to culinary. He uses his eyes as his measurement, could be a bad thing, could be a good thing, that’s up to you

If he’s up at night, he’s eating something sweet. A nice glass of single malt scotch whiskey + a splash of coconut milk (🤢) with a slice of angel food cake & he’s out like a light

Absolutely loves shopping for the kitchen, finds immense joy in doing so. If you lose him in a store, one of the places you’ll most likely find him is in the kitchen decor area

Owns a bagpipe & wants to get better at it, even tho he scared the living shit out of his dogs & chickens

Wears his shades quite a bit even tho the weather is hardly sunny and mainly windy & damp

Will hold the door for strangers even if they don’t say thank you

He’s open when it comes to music. Will listen to anything but feels like the music has to be a purpose for something...Everything he does in his day to day life has to feel like a soundtrack to him since in his mind he’s daydreaming about his life being made into a movie. Who isn’t?

He thinks wentworth Miller should play him in a film and that kid from blackish should play him when he was a wee lad, Marcus Scribner

Always keeps a positive attitude because he knows what it feels like to feel low and he doesn’t want anybody else in the world to feel like that so he wants to uplift and if he can try to be someone’s happiness he’ll gladly be that— which isn’t always the right move, he learned

Listens to: Rotimi, Shaggy, Sean Paul, Skip Marley, H.E.R., Jhene Aiko, Jorja Smith, UMI, The Kooks, The Killers, Cold War kids, Milky chance, Blood Orange, The 1975, Vampire Weekend, Bad Suns, BRYSON TILLER, Kilo Kish, & Ella Eyre (although he misses her old music)

Celeb crushes? Cardi B is his mfkin celeb wife okay?! Nobody else comes above her! He also thinks FKA twigs is pretty & super talented, sevdaliza!, Tia & Tamera, Iman, and brandy from the 90s makes him swoon

Anthem = jaden, “Boys and Girls”

[rosevanhelsing]

Chapter 10

3 years later

Lily combined her university studies with a job in an esoteric shop. One day her boss told her:

- Lily, pretty, they hired me for a private birthday party, but I feel terrible. Would you mind going? You have a gift for the Tarot.

- Of course I'll go.

Lily went to Willa Brewster's birthday party, and was explaining their  future to several children, in the end only Willa and her best friend Vic Mcqueen remained. Willa sat down and said:

- I want to know if I will have a career and become famous.

 Lily dropped the cards, studied them for a moment, and said:

- Look, darling, this is the Card of the High Priestess, it symbolizes study, so you will study a lot and surely do a career and next to it you have The Justice, perhaps it is something related to this, and Sun means success.

- Cool, I've always been attracted to law. Come on Vic, cheer up.

Vic McQueen wrinkled his nose, and said:

- I do not believe in that…

"If you don't believe," Willa said, "what difference does it make to you?" Let's see what the cards tell you.

Vic snorted, dropped her Raleigh bike on the ground, sat across from Lily and said:

- I do not know what to ask…

- Let's see what comes out then.- Lily said kindly

Lily revealed The Magician, and said- You are a highly skilled and hardworking girl.

Vic shrugged.

Lily then revealed the Moon and said, "And you're very creative." Do you like to draw or write?

- Draw- Vic said a little surprised.

- It's amazing how she draws - said Willa

Vic began to get a little more interested, and she  looked closely at what Lily was doing. Lily revealed the Devil's card.

- However you will have difficulties to achieve your goals, that is what the Devil's card means,

Then The Chariot came out

- This means that you will have to make decisions and direct your life.

Lily revealed the last two letters.

- Well, the Force means that you can face difficulties and break through. And  this is one of the prettiest cards, the Star  symbolizes the hope and your dreams. If you dream of being a successful cartoonist, you will be.

- Thank you

If Lily had had her previous Tarot card, the prediction would have been quite different and perhaps she would not have explained her. The visions would have shown her  that or rather who the Devil and the Chariot, and that Vic was the hope to defeat them.

 8 years later:

Lily had lived with Jeff together for a couple of years and life was going very well for them, Jeff had a good job as a mechanic in a workshop and Lily had finished a degree in Translation  and worked from home.  Jeff and Lily were engaged and she was five months pregnant.

On the other hand, Mary had moved with her mother to Europe and was living a new life there, although she missed her sister. One day, while walking through a second-hand market, Mary noticed something, which she could not define, that attracted her to a certain stand. It was a little stand where there were all kinds of things. The owner said:

- They belonged to my children, they are already married and they didn't want anything.

Mary looked, suddenly saw a silver glitter that was between a model of an old black car, which she did not know because it reminded her of one he had seen a long time ago, and an Optimus Prime, Mary pushed them away and picked up the shiny object. It was a pendant that represented a unicorn, it was the most beautiful she had ever seen, she held it in her hand and it was so fixed that she did not hear that the radios began to interfere. Mary asked the owner:

- How much does this cost?

- This?

The owner looked it and said:

- It's funny that my daughter got rid of this, she really liked this pendant, so I'll leave it to you for five pounds.

Mary paid and put it in her purse. Once home, she cleaned it and put it on a necklace. At dinner time, her mother Lucy saw the pendant and said:

- How nice, did you find it at the flea market?

-Yes.

When she went to sleep, Mary found herself in a white room, which sometimes looked like the walls had interference like TV's, and she looked away. There were several doors, each one had a name, she recognized them as her friends from school when she was little, she tried to open one of them, but it was closed, others were boarded up with boards and she gave up. Elsewhere, there was a white door with candy canes on the sides. Mary put her hand on the door, it was cold and there was a sign that said Christmasland. On the other side of the door Charlie Manx watched and said:

- Well, well, Mary, so you've got back to your old ways? Mary, Mary, come in and say how-do… he crooned

 Mary had a feeling she shouldn't go in and turned away from the door, looked away, and saw a door with a lily drawn on it, which she assumed was her sister's door. Mary entered and saw Lily, she was at the table in the middle of a grove reading and taking notes, Mary smiled and went to hug her:

-Lily!

Her sister looked at her in surprise and said:

-Mary… But what are you doing here?

- I fell asleep and appeared in a room with doors, only two seemed accessible, yours and one that said Christmasland ...

- Listen, Mary, for heaven's sake, don't go into Christmasland, I thought you had forgotten ... it's a bad place with a very evil man ...

Mary woke up suddenly and a little later in the morning Lily woke up abruptly although without remembering exactly what she had dreamed, and she was restless, she leaned on the head of the bed while stroking her belly, she had the feeling that sleep could be a threat to your baby. She looked to her side, Jeff had already gone to work, got up, went to the kitchen, and saw that they had left the newspaper. On the cover of this there was a story, it was about the disappearance of a child of about seven years in the state of UTAH, the mother of the child had appeared dead.

Lily left the newspaper on the kitchen table and went to get dressed, that day she was due for an ultrasound and possibly she would already know the sex of the baby. She went to the gynecologist and knew that the future baby would be a girl, she considered the idea of telling Jeff but preferred to surprise him  when he returned home. She went to eat and in the afternoon to work in the esoteric shop where she reading  the Tarot cards.

For his part, Charlie Manx was going to find a man in the city, a nursing assistant named Peter Ipes, to see if he could be useful as a collaborator. On his way he passed the esoteric shop where Lily worked and the Wraith emitted a hum of static. Manx frowned, braked, and looked out the window. On the door of a shop there was a striking sign beautifully adorned with Celtic-style lettering and a cute unicorn, which read:

THE MAGICIAN LILY

Consult your matters to the Tarot cards. A $ 10 question. Full consultation $ 25

Manx drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, it was too much of a coincidence and he wanted to make sure if it was Lily Aberforth who was reading  the cards and if she had found a new knife, in that case it was better to remind him that she should not cross his path and in passing he would try to find out if Mary had a new knife as he suspected. Charlie parked the car and went to the store. Once at the door he made a visor with his hand to observe, the store was dark but there was a light in the background, perhaps the owner or that Lily was in the back room. Manx rang the bell and waited a couple of minutes.

Lily was so focused on her work that she didn't hear the buzzer, but  she noticed the sudden change in temperature and her list of relaxation songs suddenly stopped and Christmas carols started playing, all of which   brought back dark and sinister memories that believed forgotten. Lily swallowed and put on a shawl for the cold, which hid her belly in the process. If the customer  was who she suspected, she didn't even want him to smell her pregnancy. Charlie rang the bell again and yelled:

- It's open?!

"I'm coming!" Answered Lily, going to the door and opening it.

Charlie smiled when he saw her, Lily was scared to death but kept her composure.

-Ms. Aberfoth ... how long ... –  he said leaning on the door frame and blocking the exit

- Mr. Manx ...

Lily noted that Charlie was even younger than the last time she had seen him in Christmasland.  even wearing more modern clothing, a long navy blue double-breasted coat, matching blue pants, a red vest and tie, and shoes instead. of high boots. His black hair was thicker, shinier and without  gray hair, his skin was smooth, and he would have looked prettier if it weren't for his teeth which stuck out and were still hideous  and the long nails he wore cut in a peak.

I was passing by here, miss and I looked at the sign when my Wraith reacted and I thought that perhaps my favorite witch had found a new "knife".

- Well, I don't know why your car reacted, perhaps you should check it, because I no longer have that power because I had to destroy my "knife".

- Are you sure? - He said laughing

- You want me to prove it to you? Although according to you everything was  rubbish

- Wow ... - Charlie said, showing upset - I'm sorry that he felt offended, although what he thought was  rubbish  is that I fell in love with someone who could harm me. By the way, maybe a little Tarot consultation will clarify me when I'm going to meet that mysterious girl ...

"Okay, but it will be a quick consultation," she said, putting on her shawl. "Sit down."

He sat down obediently, Lily shuffled the cards, cut them into piles and made him choose

"I have the impression that you want me to leave soon ... what are you hiding from me?" Charlie said in an amused tone but his  eyes gave away suspicion.

- Nothing. - She said curtly- Choose and ask your question.

 - How much will I find that mysterious girl you saw? And he pointed resignedly to the pile on his  left, Lily picked up the cards, and put them on the table to go uncovering them. He was looking at her carefully, he didn't notice anything in her but something had to happen since his car didn't react just because. Lily looked at the cards, curiously they were very similar to the ones from the other time she reading him, but this time The Wheel of Fortune came out and said:

- It seems that the thing is beginning to move, perhaps in a short period of time you will find it ... but it is not possible to specify when. In addition, it is not known what result there will be, The wheel of Fortune can bring luck but luck can also be twisted.

- Well, that's something. Thank you.

Lily got up and waited for Charlie to do so, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat, took out his wallet, opened it and took out a $ 10 bill, handing it to Lily.

- Thank you for answering my question, Miss Aberforth. I'm sorry that our meeting was so short and cold ...

Lily was disgusted to take Manx's money but she did it so as not to arouse his suspicions and did not see the avid glint in the eyes of her interlocutor. Manx grabbed her, softly but firmly by the arms, pulled him close and said in her ear:

- Tell me what you're hiding from me ... You think you can deceive me but it's not like that ...     I also know that your little sister has a "knife" again ... she was about to re-enter Christmasland but at the last moment she stopped ... so this is not It must be ... Let's see, let me guess ...

- Get your hands off me ..." Lily said, struggling to get away from him. Leave us alone.  I already told you and I repeat that neither Mary nor I will meddle in your affairs ...

Charlie pulled her closer and then he felt the bulge of Lily's belly against him, his dark eyes twinkling and he said laughing:

- Well, well, what do we have here? You have a bun in the oven. So that's what you were hiding from me.

Charlie put his hand on Lily's belly, she almost gagged with fear and disgust.

- Come on, little one ... say hello to your Uncle Charlie ...

He smiled when he noticed a kick from the future baby. Lily scrambled again to get rid of Manx's hold, but Manx had her tight. Apparently Charlie had much more strength than he appeared since he could control her just by grabbing her arm ...

- Who is the lucky dad? Mr. Stevens?

"Yes," she said in a whisper.

 Charlie released her gently, and made Lily sit in a chair as he said

- There was no reason for you to have to hide me about your future baby, indeed I congratulate you for it. I suppose you were afraid that I might take it away one day ... I won't, unless one day  he or she  appears in my Cemetery of May could be ...

Lily was horrified but preferred not to ask him what he was talking about. Charlie grabbed her hand, kissed it politely, and said:

- Arrivederci, my dear.

Manx left the store, got behind the wheel of his car, drove off and then he realized… Lily's baby would be a future creative soul! Manx smiled to himself and said:

- Well, time will tell ...

[bemysugarbean]

The Way We Use To Be

I settled down into the sofa that sat on the balcony of the main bedroom, reaching for the latest book that I was engrossed in, the bookmark only just saving the page for me. 

Looking out to the horizon, releasing a heavy sigh from my chest I noticed what a beautiful night it was. The sun was just setting down for the night, leaving a line of pale orange that filtered right out across the lower half of the sky as it went. Snuggling into the sofa, a gentle but warm breeze carefully ran over my shoulders.  

Pushing my sunglasses up across the bridge of my nose, I admired the view; not quite yet delving into the story that the book in my hands beheld. I relaxed my elbow across the armrest, with my forearm hanging off the edge as I listened to Steve run around upstairs as he was getting ready for a night out with the rest of the guys. Shuffling slightly to try and find a comfortable position to sit in, I twisted my wedding rings on my finger with my right hand. Steve and I had been married for almost 25 years now. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I agree, 25 years is a long time to be married to somebody; especially to someone as famous as my husband when you yourself, are a ‘nobody’. Oh, I chastised myself, if he heard me say that! 

I love Steve, I really do, and he’s my rock, my life, the one that I would go through the challenge of swimming every ocean if it meant that I would end up right back into his arms again at the end of it. But lately, well actually for a while now, I’ve been feeling like I am a ‘nobody’ to him, and it’s killing me inside. 

I miss us. 

I miss him. 

With the breeze gently swimming arounf me, I caught a waft of aftershave. Looking to my right, I studied my husband. He was dressed in dark relaxed jeans, a red check shirt that had hugged his enviously broad shoulders, with the sleeves rolled up slightly, resting in the grooves of his arms. A cap back to front sat on top of his head – his “Baby, today is all about relaxing!” attire. 

Breaking me out of my study, he wandered over and placed his hands on my shoulders and gently swooped in to give me a delicate kiss on my temple. He left his lips pressed against my forehead for longer than usual, allowing my hands to grip onto his forearm, squeezing it gently. He moved a strip of untameable hair from my eyes and tucked it behind my ear, his thumb running down the side of my face as I stared back at him. God, I missed him. Looking at the wall clock that hung on the wall behind me, he gasped,

“Shit, babe, I have to go and meet the guys now. Erm, don’t, don’t wait up for me, honey.” Steve said, as he got up and straightened out his clothes whilst heading towards the gate. 

“Oh okay. You uh, you have a great time tonight… love you..” I tried to sound cheerful as I saw him disappear through the gate, but in all honestly, this, whatever this was, was truly cutting me into a thousand pieces.  I just wanted my Steve back. The hot tears pooling in my eyes were threatening to spill with every deep breath I took. I took a swig of the wine glass perched next to me, sniffed and breathed and picked up my book and got to reading it straight away. 

*

After 15 minutes of trying to reconnect with my story, I was left with no connection at all. So I threw my book and saw that it landed across on the other side of the sofa. As I stared at it, an idea crept into my mind. 

Racing up through the house and bounding up the stairs I ran into my wardrobe and dug my way through a cupboard in it that held what I was looking for. Carefully removing the box from its home, I wiped away the gathering specs of dust that had coated the box. 

Coming to sit comfortably on the floor with my legs crossed, I removed the lid. And it was spilling with pretty memories, and stolen kisses when Steve thought no one was looking, receipts from our first few dates, cinema tickets from when we tried to chase away the weight of the world, CDs that he told me to listen to and that I lied and said that I loved when I actually really hated (he knew that now of course), cards and letters, little notes that we had sent each other. A memory box of Steve and I, our own personal, little story. If I couldn’t get into the one I was just reading, I was sure as hell about to sink into this one. 

I picked up a small rectangular picture of Steve back from when were officially became an item, it was right after he returned from a gruelling mission, three weeks away and fatigued beyond belief. But as I pick up the picture now and study it, I see the expression of his face after I picked him up from the airport. I caught the perfect shot of him, he had looked up at me and I snapped it just at that moment. 

“Ahhhhhh got you!” I said after the flash of my camera had captured only a fraction of the beauty his essence possessed.

“Oh you little..”

“You sure you wanna finish that sentence, Rogers?” A smirk etched its way onto both of our faces. I raised my eyebrow up at him, but before I could usher any more words, his lips raced forward and collided into mine, his hand cupping the back of my next protectively. Gently moaning into the kiss, all words that I wanted to say before we now utterly and completely unfathomable. Pulling away, Steve told me said

“..Let’s get to going home, honey. I have missed you” He also whispered a few other things in my ear, things that only made me grab his hand and barge through the masses of people – never being so determined to see my car. 

Laughing to myself at how desperate we were back then to rip one another’s clothes off, but then again, could you really blame me? Placing the picture back into the box, I dug around a little and found a pair of broken Raybans. I tampered with them a little bit, inspecting how exactly they were broken, and then I remembered how they got broken.

The sky was dark; the miniscule grains of sand become a sodden bedding for the pads of our feet. The moon highlighting the waves that ran across the shore.

  “Steve!” In one swift movement, Steve had scooped me up and had thrown me over his shoulder in a fireman lift.

“Steve!! Stopppp! Put me down!” I tried to squeal out, but failed miserably as he was tickling my sides and probably couldn’t understand or was choosing (most likely the latter) not to understand my pleas through my laughter. Steve began to run across the beach, me still hanging off of his handsomely broad shoulders. 

“Ahhh!” 

“Ah shit!” 

Steve had tripped and fell down, I was now flush against his body as we lay on the sand. Both of us had tears in our eyes through laughing hysterically. I felt his arms snake around my back. He raised his lips to mine and rolled us over so that I was now on my back and he was situated on top of me I let out a squeal..

“Owww!” Steve alarmingly sat us up a little bit, whilst my arm sought to remove whatever it was that I had been pushed against and had nicely pressed itself against my back. Fishing out the culprit I discovered that it was Steve’s Raybans. 

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll kiss you all better later” he said, with his hands snaking their way up my shirt.

Looking to my left, I picked up one of Steves t-shirts that was strewn across one of the rails and removed my clothes, replacing it with the comfort of Steve’s. I then picked out a paper rose that Steve had made me for my first Mother’s Day.

The bright streams of sunlight gently woke me up, my body becoming aware to the mouth-watering aroma that was swirling its way up the stairs from the kitchen. I readjusted the t-shirt of Steve’s that I was wearing and sank back into the pillows. Noticing a foot prying the door open, I saw Steve making his way to the bed with a tray that consisted of homemade pancakes, drizzled with honey and topped sliced strawberries and pineapple, just how I liked it. A glass of orange juice, two cups of steaming tea and a paper rose. 

“Oh good, you’re up! I made breakfast for you, babe” He leant down and gave me a loving kiss.

“You didn’t have to do that, I love you.” Steve smiled and his eyes crinkled as he stroked my hair.

“Honey...”

Cutting me off, Steve added, “I’ve already checked on her, she’s still sound asleep. You know, for a 4 month old baby, she’s very good at sleeping when we want her to.” He gave me a cheeky wink and cheekily took a strawberry off from my plate.

Swiping his hand away, I told him that, “Good, must be the mini super serum coursing through her veins, but that’s not what I was going to mention, baby, you forgot the cutlery.” Laughing, he got up and made his way to the door, purposely shaking his boxer clad bum as he went.

“Stay there, or else!” He turned around and pointed at me, a daring look etched across his face. Playfully blowing a kiss to him, I winked at him, already feeling the desire spreading through me like a wild fire at what his ‘or else’ would mean for me. 

Hearing the key turn in the door, I looked at the clock and gasped at the time. I hadn’t realised that I had been sitting here reminiscing for a good few hours now, although it was late, I hadn’t expected Steve to be home just yet. I heard Steve bound up the stairs calling my name.

“Y/N, baby, Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

“In here”

Within seconds, Steve’s broad frame had materialised at the door way and was making his way towards me. 

“What’s up, honey?” As he sank down onto the floor next to me, his gazes averted to the contents of the box that was spilled across the floor. He picked up the paper rose, and fingered the petals gently with his forefinger and thumb.  

“I remember when I gave this to you, we were so happy then, Y/N. What happened, baby?” His voice was thick with beer, laced with despair and pain. The sorrow that his eyes were exemplifying was undeniably torturing. Reaching out to stroke his cheek, I replied to him. Unaware to the tears that had began to stream down my face.

“I don’t know, baby. All that I do know is that I fucking miss you. I miss you. I really do.” Steve wiped away my tears and let my hair out from the band that it was constrained in, allowing it to tumble down my back.

* Steve and I sat and talked about our problems. There were many tears shed, many laughs ushered too as we went through the box of us. Becoming aware of my senses again, I looked Steve in the eye as he looked at me and silently pleaded to him. 

“Take me to bed, Steve.” It had been too long since we had shared anything quite so intimate, and I craved him. I didn’t need to repeat myself, and he didn’t need any more convincing as he picked me up bridal style and cradled me in his arms. 

* The next morning, I awoke to an empty other half of the bed. I wasn’t too curious as to where Steve was bound as the smell from the kitchen was wounding its way up my nose. I noticed a foot prying the door open. Steve was making his way to the bed, with a tray in his hand that consisted of homemade pancakes, drizzled with honey and topped with sliced strawberries and pineapple, just how I liked it. A glass of orange juice and two cups of tea also rested on the tray. As he brought the tray closer, I noticed that he had got the paper rose from the box and placed that on the tray too. 

Grabbing his cup of tea form the tray, he nestled against me in our bed and cheekily took a strawberry from my plate. Swiping his hand away, I noticed something else, or lack of something, on the tray.

“Steve, you forgot the cutlery...” Trying to stifle my laughter, but to no avail it came out anyway, Steve playfully let out a dramatic sigh and made his way to the door. Whilst I sank back against the pillows, blowing on my cup of tea, I watched my husband shake his bum, teasing me. Turing around, he informed me,

“Stay there, or else!” Pointing at me with a daring look etched across his face, I gave him a wink, implying that I couldn’t even if I tried.

As I watched him disappear, I knew that although we had a long way to go still before we get back to where we were, I know that we will be just fine. 

I loved him. 

And he loved me.

[lovelytonys]

100 great things about megamind

basically i just watched megamind and wrote down everything that made me go “hey that’s good”

1. The opening monologue slaps I literally do not care about your “cliches” it’s GOOD

2. “8 days old and still living with my parents...pathetic right?”

3. The idea that Megamind is inherently good since his origin story should have been his dad saying he’s destined for “greatness” but the greatness got cut off uwu

4. Literally just the fact that Megamind was about to go to the Rich Nice House and his destiny changed at the last second,,,everything about this movie makes it a cinematic masterpiece

5. “A baby! How thoughtful!” “yes yes I saw it and thought of you”

6. “While they were learning the itsy bitsy spider I was learning how to dehydrate objects and rehydrate them at will”

7. When you hear the Bad to the Bone guitar riff kick in,,,,,,heck yeah babey!!

8. J.K Simmons is here! yeah!

9. Will Ferrell’s voice acting is literally SO darn good like even just from the beginning,,, the funny affectation of whatever kind of accent that is,,,,,the expressiveness of literally everything he says,,,,,I’m not actively a fan of Will Ferrell or anything but he just did a good job ok

10. “His heart is an ocean inside a bigger ocean”

11. Idk why but I just love the phrase “you fantastic fish you”

12. Metro Man is such a fun character. Like. A hero who shouldn’t be a hero, but he just….is one? Someone who’s idol-worshipped and, despite his grandeur, doesn’t exactly deserve it?

13. MEGAMIND’S CHARACTER DESIGN IS LITERALLY SO GOOD like the vivid colors of his skin and eyes? His COSTUME? His hilarious proportions, between the giant head and the skinny & scrawny everything else? Superb, you funky little alien

14. All dialogue between Megamind and Minion is god tier by default

15. The twist on “damsel in distress” where yeah the girl gets kidnapped but she is so not distressed and has the intellectual power in the situation as she roasts Megamind at every turn and he can’t combat anything she says

16. “Oh potato tomato potato tomato”

17. “I’m shaking in my BABY SEAL LEATHER BOOTS”

18. THE ENTIRE EXCHANGE BETWEEN MEGAMIND AND METRO MAN ABOUT JUSTICE AND REVENGE AND THE MICROWAVE OF EVIL AND WARRANTIES

19. “Can someone stamp my frequent kidnapping card” “You of all people know that we discontinued that”

20. The way this movie manages to SO effectively establish character while diving right into the action and keeping with a fun, fast pace? The world & characters are set up incredibly well AND the start of the journey/ “break into the new world” hits at a brisk 20 minutes? Lovely work, Dreamworks

21. When Highway to Hell kicks in with the lasers and Megamind dancing at the police,,,,,this is nothing short of priceless

22. “Imagine the most horrible terrifying evil thing you could possibly think of and multiply it…..BY SIX”

23. When you’re a supervillain who takes over the city and you say “let’s just have fun with this” to the citizens

24. *whispering behind the door* “now slam the door really hard!” *snickering like a 12 year old girl* “move they can still see you”

25. “Did you think this day would come?” “No, no not in a million years, not ever...I mean yes”

26. “That’s called a window, sir. All the kids are looking through them”

27. Crazy Train is SUCH a nice touch, the fade into Alone Again Naturally is great. The use of music in this movie is absolutely A+, MEGAMIND DID IT FIRST AND GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY AIN’T SPECIAL (jk gotg you’re so special ily)

28. The images of Megamind’s destruction & deterioration of the city are so creative and funny

29. *to a desk toy bird* “What’s your vacuum like?”  

30. “GOING OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN SIR”

31. Haven’t yet mentioned how lovely the animation of Megamind’s face is! Every single frame, he’s so expressive

32. Mispronunciation of words like “school”, “Metro City”, and “melancholy”

33. This voice cast in general is so good like it’s not just big names phoning it in for an animated movie, they’re fully into it

34. Real Bernard doesn’t get much screen time but he’s hilarious

35. “Typhoon Cheese”, whatever that was gonna be

36. The juxtaposition in body language & facial expression between Real Bernard and Megamind Bernard,,,,,actually just the way Megamind’s physicality is transferred to the other characters he disguises himself as. Great stuff

37. Megamind’s off-the-walls high energy is so fun and electric

38. “This is a bad idea” “yes, a good idea for the greater good of bad” “maybe it seems good from your bad perception but from a good perception it’s just plain bad” “oh you don’t know what’s good for bad”

39. Ollo? Oh, hello

40. “I’m just yelling at my…..mother’s urn”

41. Megamind and Minion just saying “code” before things that aren’t in code. This movie is so good with its running gags, they don’t feel like “oh haha they used that joke again!” they feel like inside jokes between the characters I love it

42. Megamind fighting himself as Bernard while complimenting himself, COMEDY GOLD

43. The various occurrences of random life-altering things happening on a whim to the wrong people, like Hal getting the superpowers and earlier Metro Man being molded into a hero and Megamind landing in prison as a baby

44. The forget me stick

45. Space Dad and Space Stepmom

46. Every character Megamind inhabits always retains Megamind’s eyes

47. MR BLUE SKY PLAYING OVER HAL’S DISASTROUS TRAINING SEQUENCE AND THE FALLING IN LOVE SEQUENCE THAT INCLUDES DONKEY KONG AND MEGAMIND WEIRDLY TEXTING ON A FLIP PHONE (gotgv2 who? Don’t know her)

48. Roxanne’s positive influence making Megamind genuinely want to make the city better uwu

49. ROXANNE AND METRO MAN WERE NEVER A COUPLE! Lovely trope subversion

50. Tropes in this movie in general are so fun. This isn’t some uninspired genre parody. They don’t just subvert tropes in the exact way that you’d expect. I feel like the way that this movie plays with the superhero genre often feels unique and creative

51. Bernard’s character design kind of slaps tbh. The turtleneck, the hair, the glasses, all very nice

52. When Hal calls Roxanne “a really good looking one I’ve got my eye on” like she’s meat or something as opposed to Megamind valuing her personality…..makes ya think u know

53. T h e  b l a c k  m a m b a a a a a

54. “Maybe I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore!” and Megamind & Minion’s subsequent falling out that served as a precursor to the disastrous date with Roxanne- it happens pretty much exactly halfway through the movie. Some people look down upon following structure to a T, but sometimes it’s satisfying when a movie perfectly follows structure and this movie’s structure is flawless

55. “Good luck on your date” “I will” “That doesn’t even make any sense” “I know”

56. Right after fighting w Minion when Megamind looks in a cracked mirror and frowns at his reflection but then changes into someone else, into Bernard, and then smiles? THE CINNAMON TOGROPHY, THE STORYTELLING

57. When Hal is just an incel whose feeling of entitlement is framed as disgusting and he’s not supposed to be sympathetic and Roxanne’s rejection of him is not framed as evil but rather completely justified? VERY epic of them, this movie would have SMASHED the pop culture scene if it came out today

58. The GRAVITY of the part when Roxanne accidentally reveals Megamind in the restaurant is so powerful that I can STILL barely watch it even though I’ve seen it so many times

59. The part that immediately follows where Roxanne shuts down Megamind is SO well done. Roxanne is giving out some harsh words to our dear protagonist, but she is not framed as the bad guy. The great thing about this scene is that they let Roxanne call out Megamind on how he’s been a jerk and she gets to be RIGHT. How very cash money of them! The emotion here isn’t anger at Roxanne because she’s ~being mean~ to Megamind. It’s a sting over the fact that she’s right, and the heartbreak over the dramatic irony of us knowing that Megamind is becoming a better person and Roxanne having no idea. Now Megamind is left with a decision that will show who he truly is on the inside: he could either retreat back into safe, evil ways for the rest of time because it’s easier to be bad because then no one expects anything from him and rejection is easier to handle, or he could ultimately choose to grow from this and recognize how he was wrong and how he has to change. The execution of this midpoint is exemplary.

60. “Do you really think I’d ever be with you?” “....no” the delivery of those lines is so good

61. “You were right! I was….less right!”

62. The Black Mamba is a god tier costume and the fact that it has its own theme song in the score makes it at least 6x better

63. WHEN BACK IN BLACK KICKS IN YEAAAHHHH (Iron Man who? Don’t know her) (Iron Man was already out at this point but how fun is it that this movie used TWO iconic mcu songs)

64. Megamind in the giant suit playing with cars

65. Hal SUCKS I love how much the movie wants you to hate him

66. The difference between Megamind and Hal/Titan/Tighten is so interesting to watch. How Megamind is the self-proclaimed “bad guy” but he’s not even out to do serious damage & it’s just a game to him, while Hal is out for blood but was created to be a hero

67. “Now it’s time for witty banter” “AAAAAAAAA” “I’m not really sure where to go with that”

68. “I’M CALLING A TIME OUT”

69. Twisting the Kryptonite trope by having Metro Man make up the copper weakness

70. “Does he have a hideout? A cave? A solitary fortress?” lol I understood that reference

71. “OW! MY GIANT BLUE HEAD!”

72. Metro Man’s confession scene is so good. Really, how often do you get a hero who feels that he was forced into being a hero? That’s usually a villain trope. Does the hero ever realize he doesn’t want to be a hero….and actually quit FOR GOOD? Again, the trope subversion is awesome

73. “I have eyes that can see right through leaaaaaaaad” that’s my favorite song

74. “You left the city to HIM! No offense” “no I’m with you”

75. “There’s a yin for every yang. If there’s bad, good will rise up against it.”

76. “I say we just go all GANGSTA on him” ms tina fey i would die for you

77. Megamind turns himself in to the police, the fact that he willingly submits himself to the punishment of being a villain at this point is a lovely and stirring way of showing the sense of justice he has deep down and showing his character development

78. When Roxanne gives Megamind a desperate & compassionate pep talk over live tv no matter what it means for her reputation :*))

79. When Megamind has 88 life sentences

80. “I. Am. Sorry!” *dramatically slides down door*

81. Megamind’s heartfelt and regretful admission of all his mistakes that brings his character arc to a head? Lovely

82. “Good luck” “WE’RE GONNA D I E! Hahahaha!”

83. “There is no Easter bunny, there is no tooth fairy, and there is no queen of England.”

84. MEGAMIND’S EPIC ENTRANCE BY COMING OUT OF HIS OWN MOUTH

85. “Oh you’re a villain alright. Just not a super one.” “Oh yeah? What’s the difference?”

86. P R E S E N T A T I O N

87. METRO MAN THUNDER CALVES

88. Again with the green eyes continuity! Love that!

89. “Going somewhere? Besides jail?” *flies in a fancy pose*

90. When Megamind is ready to let everyone think Metro Man is back but Roxanne wants to see the real hero :*))

91. “This is the last time you make a fool out of me!” “I made you a hero, you did the fool thing all by yourself” SICK BURN

92. “There’s a benefit to losing. You get to learn from your mistakes”

93. WHEN THE DEHYDRATION GUN COMES IN CLUTCH

94. Minion being a drama queen lol comedy peaked in 2010

95. Minion’s Little Face

96. “GET BACK YOU SAVAGES” “Sorry he’s just not used to positive feedback!”

97. “Destiny is not the path given to us but the path we choose for ourselves”

98. When Megamind gets to parallel Metro Man’s entrance from the beginning of the movie and everyone cheers for him :*)) and he adds his own fun little twist by making a villain joke

99. “Megamind, defender of Metro City” “you know? I like the sound of that!”

100. Name a better villain to hero story. YOU CANNOT. Cinematic excellence. I am never disappointed.

[prorevenge]

Shady business owners don't like it when you call regulators.

Used to work in private security (rent-a-cop/bacon bits jokes go here). When I was first hired on, thought the company was fairly upstanding yadda yadda because the owner and I would bullshit a little about our respective military careers. "A guy who used to be in pararescue can't be that bad, right?"

First year was relatively normal security work, mostly fixed post (think Walmart door greeter but with a badge and handcuffs) and general "I'll tackle you if you steal things, but otherwise I'm just a breathing security camera" stuff. About a year in, I finish all of my qualifications for armed work and get assigned to patrol. Patrol is basically private police: companies would hire us to make rounds and respond to things at their locations (mostly apartment complexes, and mostly noise complaints or occasionally towing off cars and such, but occasionally managing residents during a fire or breaking up disturbances).

The company handled pay in a kinda wonky manner. Twice a month (on the 1st and 15th) we got paid for two weeks worth of work, and every now and again (it seemed like whenever they felt like it was getting too far behind) we'd get an extra paycheck slipped in with our normal one. I got my first paycheck five weeks after starting, and there was a point where we were receiving December checks in February. Pay rates were determined by the type of work: entry level stuff made $7/hour, more advanced made $8, and armed paid $10. Raises were available on top of that (for the record, I worked there for 3 years and never got a raise, and the two people I know who got raises each got 25¢ an hour after 4 years, also all of this was during a $5.15 minimum wage). Patrol required armed officers but paid as advanced, but was also a guaranteed 42 hours a week on a set schedule (three 12 hour days, a 6 hour day, and three days off) so most of us didn't really complain.

Moving up into patrol taught me a lot about the company that I didn't know. I figured the owner was a little sexist (ex-military types tend to be) but the depths of his sexism caught me a little off-guard. And then there's the racism. I'm Latino but I look white (because I avoid sun like the plague and got my bone structure from my [white] mother's side), though my surname is a dead giveaway: there's a state in Mexico to which I'm apparently related (must be a distant relative on Abuelita's side). I was apparently good enough to be on patrol, but not promotable (even though I worked my fucking ass off, even though supervisors routinely recommended me for promotion) for some reason. Or the fact that we had one black guy on staff, and he was fired for something that other people got away with. The female officer who was assigned the easiest shift because "it's all she can handle" and "this way, it's obvious I'm trying to work with the women." Those are as close to verbatim quotes as I can recall. Or the time he held a contest between patrols for excellence and canceled it after 2 months...two months in which it happened that the female officer won once and took second once, and the Mexican dude won once and took second once. Between those two months, I made an extra $30 in gas cards. WOOO! /s

For frame of reference, here are a couple of things white dudes did that they didn't get fired for: hitting 120mph in a company car in a 40mph zone (after over a year of doing 20+ over), carrying a gun without the proper permit, blatant sexual harassment, admitting to skipping stops on a route and just sending the business a false statement, writing racist slogans on the front of company-provided TASER cartridges (Homie Down is the one I remember), tasing people without proper justification, sleeping on the job, working drunk, etc.

I also learned about how they screwed over clients: this company pays for 12 hours of continuous patrol between their three properties, but the owners want more money so that route also covers 5 apartment complexes and handles cash drops for a couple of stores. Another business pays us $1M a year for 5.5 hours per weeknight and 7.5 hours per weekend night (approximately $450 per hour) and that route jumps off property like clockwork every night to take care of 3-5 other properties at specified times, leaving that client without their only security at key times. This group of apartment complexes pays for 1 hour on property per night, might get half of that if the night is slow because of the workload.

And then he decided to fuck over his staff (more). Patrol was offered a salary (that was 10% less than the minimum legal salary), with the strong implication that if we wanted any hours at all we'd take it. Once we were all salaried (or gone), things shifted over to 48 hour weeks. I did the math at one point and realized that if I watched a movie at the theater and ate twice at fast food on every day off, it was still cheaper for me to not work than to work (because of gas and food while working, considering I walked about 12-15 miles every night as part of the patrols, which requires a fairly brisk pace, which requires calories galore). But if you were scheduled off and they called you in, you either accepted the extra hours or you got chewed out, and if you made a habit of saying no you'd get written up for anything they could think of.

Then one of my colleagues got into an accident at work. He was hospitalized for like 9 days, ended up making a full recovery. But he was in the company car, so according to the company he was responsible for paying the $2500 insurance deductible. I'd had it at that point. I borrowed some money from my mother to talk to a labor attorney. Best $200 I ever spent.

Attorney gave me three pieces of advice:

If there's a problem with the way we're being paid, talk to the labor board.

My colleague was not on the hook for the car. That's why the company had insurance. It wasn't our fault that he was too cheap to spring for a lower deductible.

Document everything, but keep my name out of anything.

I passed word to the injured colleague about the insurance thing, and he lawyered up pretty much immediately (his family had enough money that he didn't have to work). I also made a not-so-anonymous phone call to the state labor board (asking that they not reveal it was me). 3 weeks later, I'm in the office handling post-shift paperwork when the rep comes in. I GTFOed as fast as I possibly could. I didn't want to be there for that whole thing.

Fast forward about 6 months, and the labor board has finished their investigation. Turns out that the salary was in fact too low to be legally allowable, but also that our positions were not legally eligible for salary anyway. So all of those 48/60/72+ hour weeks were full of overtime. Unpaid overtime. Unpaid overtime on which we were owed interest. Also, requiring patrol to be armed but not paying them armed rates wasn't legal (based on the employment contract, any work for which we required that license required we be paid the rate associated with that license). Also, the "twice a month you're paid for 2 weeks of work" thing isn't legal either. So we got several oversized paychecks covering back pay, plus others covering interest (which had to be noted in the check stub as interest on back pay).

The labor board rep couldn't do anything about the ways they were screwing over their customers, but she did have someone she could call. Someone she should call. Someone she did call. A couple weeks later, that investigation started. I don't know all the details (I left during that time to start some higher education) but a few months later they sold the company to someone else, and I heard through the grapevine that part of the reason was that they lost several contracts and all that back pay pretty much wiped out their savings (I got something like $8K in back pay, and there were another dozen patrol officers in that time frame, so I figure around $100K total went out just to patrol, and apparently there were some discrepancies in how they managed fixed post staff as well) and they had to move to a smaller house. The rumors also said that after the sale, the new owners renegotiated all the contracts (including getting a few that the previous owners had lost to being shady) and somehow they're still profitable (even after giving raises and whatnot). It's almost like the previous owners had just been trying to milk everyone for as much as they could get.

Oh, and an aside: I got to know the manager of that business that paid us $1M/year pretty well afterwards. She neither confirmed nor denied that $1M figure. So take it with a grain of salt, but if it's true (she manages the most affluent shopping center in town, which includes a restaurant where prices aren't on the menu because "if you have to ask, you can't afford it") that one contract would cover all the expenses of all of patrol. The owners always seemed really intent on keeping her happy (and made sure that we knew not to tell her we left the area for any reason except end of shift). And they always had money to spend on things like a large house in one of the more affluent areas, and the private school for their daughter, and buying a new gun or two (higher priced stuff, where the name stamp adds $1500 to the price) every couple of weeks...

(source) (story by m4dn3zz)

[bts-fic-universe]

25 Days of Bangtan

Day 3 Taekook - Pictures with Santa

Prompt: Character A works as a Santa’s helper. Character B has a small sibling/child.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14 | Day 15 | Day 16 | Day 17 | Day 18 | Day 19 | Day 20 | Day 21 | Day 22 | Day 23 | Day 24 | Day 25 |

“Daddy, do I have to go up there by myself?” The little girl tugged on Jeongguk’s hand from below.

“Of course, sweetheart. I have to stand behind the camera to make sure they take a good picture.”

He definitely wasn’t going to pay for a shit picture like her mom did last year. He could have taken the picture a million times better, but Sooyeon had to be with her mother during the previous holiday. This year, Jeongguk had planned to do her picture with Santa himself, seeing as he was a professional photographer, but Yoongi had informed him that he would be lacking something vital from said picture, Santa. Yoongi quickly followed up by politely (not really) refusing to volunteer for the role, which is why Jeongguk found himself and Sooyeon in a bustling, crowded mall two weeks before Christmas.

There were only a few people left in line to take their turn in front of them. Sooyeon was getting antsy. The three year old was very well behaved for her age, especially for her father, but he knew having to wait for so long was beginning to take a toll on the child. He lifted her into his arms and her head immediately tucked into the crevasse of his neck. His heart nearly melted at the action, just as it did whenever she did the small of things.

Jeongguk was too busy checking out the photograph equipment to realize the young girl in his arms had completely frozen as they waited their turn as next in line.

“Alright you can bring her up here,” A velvet like voice drew Jeongguk’s attention away from the tripod to his right.

In front of him a gorgeous man approached the two of them. He shot Jeongguk a dashing smile before reaching out for Sooyeon. The little girl’s hands tightened further into her daddy’s coat. This brought Jeongguk out of whatever trance this guy in front of them had put him in. A light blush set high on his cheeks as he realized he had been blatantly staring at the man in front of him.

“Why don’t you come with me, honey?” His daughter only clung to him even more, drawing his attention away from the man finally.

“Sooyeon, what’s wrong? I thought you were excited to get your picture with Santa.” Jeongguk only then realizing how withdrawn he body language had become.

“I want daddy to take my picture.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeongguk noticed the beautiful guy in the elf hat pull a look of confusion onto his face.

“I’m a photographer,” the guys eyes lit up slightly with realization, “She’s never usually like this though. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

A boxy smile tugged at the corners of the guys cheeks as he looked back at Sooyeon, but not before sending Jeongguk on understanding look,

“Hey Sooyeon, my name is Taehyung, but you can call me Tae-Tae oppa! How about this, you come with me so we can go tell Santa what it is that you are wanting for Christmas, and we’ll let your daddy, here, take your picture. How does that sound?”

The three year old in his arms immediately lightened up at that. This caused the smile to grow on Taehyung’s face in front of him. Wow, he barely knew his name, but Jeongguk was already feeling whipped fo the guy.

Sooyeon’s eyes shot up to Jeongguk. He too gave her a smile before sending Taehyung another look to ask him if it was really okay, and all he got back was an even bigger smile.

“Happens all the time. Now if you’ll come with me kiddo, we can go tell Santa what you want.”

Sooyeon was reaching out for Taehyung before Jeongguk was even able to put her down. He transferred his daughter to the male and watched the two of them make their way toward the man in the red suit. Jeongguk couldn’t help but think about how well the two of them were already getting along. Sooyeon doesn’t just let anyone pick her up like that.

Maybe his daughter was falling under the man’s spell as well. Jeongguk snapped out of whatever kind of fantasy he was having about the three of them making a cute family when he saw Taehyung walking back toward the camera to his right.

“So you’re a professional photographer, huh?” A cheeky grin raised the corners of the brunette man’s lips.

“Went to college for it and luckily was good enough to find a job that actually paid me a living wage to do it.”

“Wow, now I’m nervous. In the presences of such a great photographer. My pictures probably look amatur compared to yours.”

Jeongguk just chuckled as he looked through the viewfinder of Taehyung's camera to line up the scene in front of him.

“I’m sure you’re not too bad. You got this job, did you?” Jeongguk kept the light hearted conversation going as best he could.

“Well actually I’m a model,” the shutter of the camera went off too soon as Jeongguk’s fingers stumbled over the buttons.

It wasn’t hard  to believe this beautiful man behind his was a model. Even with the weird green tights and elf hat, he was still radiating. Jeongguk bit his lip imagining what beautiful images he could capture of the other in the quiet atmosphere of his studio at home.

He quickly shook his head ridding it of all thoughts of the other in such an intimate setting.

He focused back on the task at hand, not commenting on the fact that the guy behind him was a model. He was able to get a pretty decent shot with the camera he was provided. His daughter skipped up to him all smiles as Taehyung fiddled around to print the photo so they could leave.

He shot the little girl a smile as he handed her the framed photo of herself and Santa that her daddy had taken for her. Jeongguk dug around in his wallet for the cash to pay for the picture and something else.

He turned to taehyung, once again taking in the others beauty, “Here you go this should cover it. Keep the changed though.”

Taehyung’s face faltered a bit as he noticed the tip Jeongguk had left him. HE shot the other a blinding smile again.

“Thanks again for letting me use your camera, “ he handed Taehyung the other item he had dug out of his wallet, “Oh and if you ever want to update your portfolio, give me a call.”

Jeongguk only smirked and took his daughter's hand before pulling her away and out of the mall, leaving a stunned Taehyung behind him holding one of Jeongguk’s business cards.

This is taking much longer than I expected it to 😅

admin nicole 💕

[anitabyars]

"Kennedy Ryan weaves prose like a magician (or voodoo priestess) without sacrificing heat or page-turning angst to create authentic, living, breathing characters you want to root for to the end. Hook Shot is simply beautiful." -- Emma Scott, Bestselling Author

Hook Shot, a deeply emotional standalone set in the worlds of professional basketball and high fashion from Kennedy Ryan, is available now and FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Enter the Release Giveaway for a $50 Gift Card +Signed HOOK SHOT Paperback here:

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Divorced. Single dad. Traded to a losing squad.

Cheated on, betrayed, exposed.

My perfect life blew up in my face and I'm still picking up the pieces.

The last thing I need is her.

A wildflower. A storm. A woman I can't resist.

Lotus DuPree is a kick to my gut and a wrench in my plans

from the moment our eyes meet.

I promised myself I wouldn't trust a woman again,

but I've never wanted anyone the way I want Lo.

She's not the plan I made, but she's the risk I have to take.

A warrior. A baller. The one they call Gladiator.

Kenan Ross charged into my life smelling all good, looking even better and snatching my breath from the moment we met.

The last thing I need is him.

I’m working on me. Facing my pain and conquering my demons.

I've seen what trusting a man gets you.

I. Don't. Have. Time. For. This.

But he just keeps coming for me.

Keeps knocking down my defenses and stealing my excuses

one by one.

He never gives up, and now...I'm not sure I want him to.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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EXCERPT

After talking to Kenan for the last few minutes, and looking under his hood, so to speak, I’ve found that he’s a classic. They don’t make them like him anymore, and if I don’t change the subject, change the course of this conversation, I’ll fool myself that we don’t have to keep things simple and that we could be more than just friends, not just for the summer, but for a long time to come. As long as I’d like.

​“Okay,” I say, switching gears without a clutch and pulling a tie off another of Amanda’s racks. “I think that shirt could work really well with this tie.”

​He doesn’t look at the tie I’m holding up, but keeps his eyes fastened on me. He’s not playing along. I’ve boxed myself into a corner with him. And the quarters are too tight. His scent. His warmth. His intelligence. His thoughtfulness. He is pressing in on me, overtaking my good intentions in all the ways I never thought a man could.

​“Try this on,” I say, blindly shoving the mint green shirt at him.

​When I look at him, he’s already peeled one shirt off and is reaching for the one I chose. I didn’t think this through. Didn’t forecast that Kenan changing from one shirt into another would mean his naked chest. I lose my train of thought and all my chill. Besides my mouth dropping open at the sight of the sculpted terrain of his chest and abs, I give no other indication that he affects me. Taut, bronze skin stretches across his broad shoulders like supple canvas pulled over a frame, the foundation of a masterpiece. He’s a big man. Not bulky, but instead chiseled to the specifications of a master sculptor: arms roped with muscles, biceps like rocks under skin glowing with health. The forearms Chase raved about are lined with veins and sinew. And I die for a great chest. I’ve never seen one more spectacular than Kenan’s.

​Two words.

​Male. Nipples.

​Jesus, my mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting them, sucking them, licking them. And if that pectoral perfection weren’t enough, the two columns of muscles, four each, are stacked over his lean stomach arrowing down to a narrow waist and hips. I can’t look away. I lick my lips, imagining how he would feel under my mouth. How I’d lick around his nipples and drag my tongue down that shallow path bisecting his abdominal muscles. I’d slip that belt off and sink to my knees. Unzip those pants and take him out. God, hold him in my hands and then take him all the way to the back of my throat. I’d choke on him. A man this big . . . I’d be so tight around him.

​“Lotus,” Kenan says, jarring me from my torso trance. “Should I go ahead and put this shirt on? Or did you need a little more time?”

​I snap a glance up to his face, embarrassed to find him laughing at me. Oh, God. I’m as bad as Amanda. I turn to leave, but he catches my elbow with a gentle hand and turns me back around, walking us behind two of the racks. He bends until he’s almost eye level with me.

​“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, searching my face intently. “I’m glad you like my body.”

​“I didn’t say I . . .” My words trail off at his knowing grin. “Okay. So you have a nice body. I work in fashion. Do you have any idea how many great bodies I see on a daily basis?”

​“I’m sure many,” he says, his smile still firmly in place. “I can’t speak for any of them, only for the way you looked at me.”

​“And how do you think I looked at you?” I ask defensively, forcing myself not to look away.

​In the quiet that follows, his smile fades, and heat replaces the humor in his eyes. “You looked at me the way I bet I’ve looked at you every time you walk into a room,” he says, the timbre of his voice rolling over my sensitive skin like a caress. “Like I would eat you if I could. Head to toe, everything in between.”

​“Kenan,” I protest, closing my eyes on a groan. “We said friends. We said simple. This is not how you start a simple friendship.”

​His large hand cups my jaw and lifts my chin. I open my eyes, blinking dazedly at him. I wasn’t prepared for how his touch makes me feel. How I instantly crave more of it; want to lean into the warmth; to turn and trace his lifeline with my tongue. Tell him all the things I could discover just from reading his palm and looking into his eyes.

​How can such a large hand feel so gentle, like it’s capable of treasuring, cherishing?

​“Okay, Lotus,” he says, regret and reluctance woven around my name. “Simple. Friendship.”

About Kennedy

A Top 25 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy Ryan writes about women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts.

She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine and Frolic, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Atlanta Autism families, she has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for families living with autism.

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My Review!

5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Phenomenal! Kennedy Ryan never ceases to deliver something completely unique, unforgettable, thought provoking, completely addictive, and completely mind-blowing. I was utterly mesmerized, by the characters and this story that enraptured me with its emotion, anticipation, hunger, frustration, conviction, and vitality. Beautifully penned this book is a insta-must read, and one you wont be able to put down.

You do not want to miss this one. Obsessed. That’s how I felt while reading this book. Every page was better than the previous one. Just try to put this one down. I dare you.

I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced reader copy. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[jisforjudi]

Finty Williams: Me and my mum, Judi Dench

As Finty Williams stars in a role her mother, Judi Dench, played to acclaim, she tells Andrew Billen about the joy and pain of being in a famous family

Andrew Billen

September 28 2018, 12:01am, The Times

During a play’s rehearsal period, the most likely moment a journalist will interview its star is over lunch. This is often unsatisfactory. The reporter finds the actor’s mind still half in the rehearsal room; the actor, between answers, barely gets through a sandwich. So I am pleased that Finty Williams, who is in a revival of Hugh Whitemore’s subtly anguished 1983 play Pack of Lies, agrees instead to see me at the end of a day’s rehearsals at the Menier Chocolate Factory in south London.

Now we are talking in its bar, however, she seems to me exhausted: vulnerable and unsure. It is a perception, admittedly, enhanced by her pale skin and slight frame. Still, it cannot be good when an actress answers a question about what she is doing next with “probably run a cat home on a Greek island” or describes herself as a participant in a race in which her mother is hundreds of places in front of her.

Judi Dench is a subject hard to avoid when interviewing Williams, and impossible to do so today. This is the first London production of Pack of Lies since it opened at the Lyric Theatre, London, in 1983 when Dench was cast in the very part that Williams, her daughter, plays now. When I ask if this a coincidence, Williams’s riposte is: “You’d have to ask somebody else that.” I could, but what could the theatre say other than that she is the best actress for the role? No doubt she is, but in a wicked world where publicity angles sell tickets, the reply might not tell the whole story.

The play is based on a true espionage case from the early Sixties. The Jacksons, a suburban London couple, are approached by Special Branch for permission to spy from their bedroom window on their friends, the Krogers, across the road. The Canadian bookseller, Peter, and his vivacious wife, Helen, are, in fact, Soviet spies. Williams plays Barbara Jackson, whose fate is to discover that she has been lied to by Helen and must betray her best friend back. In a coda, we learn that she dies soon after the Krogers’ unmasking. This is not true of the real “Barbara”, Ruth Search, but the play ends with a death knell.

An intense day of rehearsal, I suggest to Williams, sensing her mood. “Really intense because it’s a play about spies, obviously, but it’s also a play about friendship,” she says. Friendship, I shall discover, is a delicate subject for her.

Williams, who was 46 this week, remembers finding the play intense in performance when she first saw, or rather heard it, many times, from the Lyric’s dressing room. She was 12 and her father, Michael Williams, was in it too, as Barbara’s husband. Her godmother, Barbara Leigh-Hunt, played Helen. “I remember being very upset by the end,” she says. “Really shocked.”

Dench and her husband acted on stage several times together, and enjoyed it. However, when Dench became M in the James Bond franchise in 1995 and when, four years later, she won an Oscar for Shakespeare in Love, equivalence in their two careers was destroyed. Michael Williams was hugely proud of Dench, their daughter says, but Hollywood can be “quite a ruthless place if you’re the plus-one”. She says: “I think he found that very difficult.”

The question that she will have heard before (oh, imagine the number of times) is how difficult it is for her, as an actress, to be the daughter of Britain’s greatest actress. Her sensible reply is that if she had entered the profession wanting to be either as good or famous as Dench, she would have set herself up for a fall. She did not. The problem is other people. “A lot of people want to go, ‘She’s not as good as her mother,’ which is true, but I can also name you another 80 people who probably aren’t as good.”

Does it piss her off? “It pisses me off being pre-judged. That pisses me off, pisses me off hugely. Just because I don’t think it’s fair. I don’t know whether, if your father is a brain surgeon, people go, ‘He’s not as good a brain surgeon as his father.’ I don’t know whether that happens, but because of who Ma is, a lot of people have an opinion, which they form before they get to know me or before they see what I can do.”

A terrible thought occurs to me. Theatre critics go on for so long in this country that there must be at least one who will review this new Pack of Lies having seen the original. (Sure enough, I later find The Guardian’s Michael Billington reviewed it in 1983 and singled out for praise Dench’s “totally unpatronising portrayal” of Barbara. As she tended to, she later won an Olivier for it.)

“Oh, don’t worry,” Williams says. “I’ve had that thought about a month ago. I’d put about £100 on the fact that it’s going to be mentioned at least once. There’s no escaping that. There is no escaping the fact that people are going to go, ‘Well, she’s not as good as her mum was,’ but do you know what? I’d really like people to come and see it with an open mind.

“If it was Grand National day, she [Dench] is up and leaping Becher’s Brook and I’m in the novice race at the beginning, and you think about all the hundreds of actors between me and her. She is jaw-dropping, but I also happen to think that Helen McCrory is jaw-droppingly brilliant. I happen to think Ruth Wilson is jaw-droppingly brilliant. Zoë Wanamaker. I don’t aspire to be any of those people. I’m me, and I’ve got the cards that I’ve been dealt.”

Her hand is undoubtedly a tricky one, not because she is not close to her mother, but more likely because she is, very. In her twenties she lived with her parents in London, notoriously burning down their house one night having fallen asleep next to a lighted candle. “Just a shit thing that happened,” she says, unhappily. In her thirties she lived with Dench, who was by then widowed, in Surrey, and although she has long since moved out, she talks to me of the “production” that Christmas Day always is for the family in her mother’s home.

She had not intended to follow her parents’ vocation. As a girl she aspired to be a dancer, but did not grow into the kind of willow that was prized. Instead she successfully auditioned for a children’s TV show and, while continuing with her A levels, went into a play with McCrory. At the Central School of Speech and Drama she tellingly studied musical theatre, a genre that her mother was not known for. Her final college show was A Little Night Music. A year later, wouldn’t you know it, Dench won an Olivier for the musical at the National.

That was in 1996. The next year Williams, then 25, became a single parent (the father’s name has never been made public). Neither Dench nor her husband discovered she was pregnant until a few weeks before Finty gave birth. Dench’s director at the National Theatre, Richard Eyre, later said that Dench was “massively wounded” by not being told — although it is likely that it was Michael Williams, a traditional Catholic, whom Finty had feared telling more. In the end, naturally, Williams Sr came round. “Who couldn’t be pleased with Sammy in your midst,” she says. He is now 21 and travelling. “He’s an excellent chap.”

Since Pack of Lies is about secrets, I wonder what her take on that period of secrecy is. “Oh, man! No, it is not helpful. It was something that happened to me when I was really young,” she says, adding that she should be allowed to move on from her mistakes. “Bringing it up brings back those old feelings. ‘Oh yes, I remember how that feels: it makes you feel pretty shit.’ ”

After her father died of lung cancer in 2001, Williams hit some terrible times, but pulled herself out from under them four years later when she entered a clinic for her alcoholism. She has not drunk since. “It was a whole mixture of things . . .” she begins and peters out. Her head sinks almost until it hits the table. “I suppose a lot of it was I didn’t feel pretty enough, or talented enough, or funny enough, or interesting enough. I always felt the most interesting things about me were things that weren’t about me.”

But possibly to do with her parents? “Yes. And not many — and I really do stress not many — but there are a few people I have met in my life who have reinforced that feeling. Maybe they were friends with me for reasons other than being friends with me.” This was all a long time ago, she says. She is now “incredibly happy”, “very well” and “very, very content”.

“It doesn’t mean I still don’t sometimes feel how I used to feel, but now, what do I do now? I watch reality television and I drink tea and I eat a Terry’s Chocolate Orange and I get on with it.”

She has done rather more than that. She has worked consistently as an actress, in films such as The Secret Rapture and Gosford Park, on television in Cranford and Born and Bred, and most frequently on stage, including with her mother in The Vote at the Donmar Warehouse in 2015. Performing at the Globe in Nell Leyshon’s Bedlam in 2010, she met the actor Joseph Timms and they have been together ever since. With Timms, she says. she “won the lottery”.

“Genuinely, I am so content. Funnily enough, about two months ago somebody sent me a thing on Facebook and it said, ‘Wanted, person 40 years plus, to go out to a Greek island to look after 55 cats for seven months. Accommodation supplied. You will be paid per month. Please apply.’ And do you know what? There was a part of me that thought, ‘Yeah, I could do that.’

“We’re all puppies at the end of the day. We’re all puppies who do a job and go, ‘Please like us! Please like us!’ I needed that at one point in my life. Actually, I’ve got to a stage where I could go and look after 55 cats on a Greek island and I would be just as happy.”

I really hope she doesn’t because while she may not be the marvellous Dame Judi, plenty regard her as the marvellous Finty Williams. This is not flattery. After we part, on good terms I think, I contact three directors who have worked with her.

The first to reply is Michael Attenborough, who as Richard’s son knows something about families that cast shadows. Directing her in JB Priestley’s Dangerous Corner four years ago, he discovered, he says, a “Rolls-Royce”. He speaks of her “effortless sensuality”, her “sense of humour” and her “energy within”. “If I was putting a company together I would have Finty in it any day.”

Roy Marsden, best known as Adam Dalgliesh in the ITV PD James adaptations, directed her in Noël Coward’s Volcano in the West End in 2012. He extols a “delicate, beautiful talent” with whom it was “a delight” to rehearse. “Her facility as an actor is enormous, but her own self-doubt, I know, frightens her. Yet as soon as she walks on to the stage from the wings it all disappears and you go, ‘Wow!’ ”

Finally, the actress Eve Best, who directed her as Lady Macduff in Macbeth at the Globe in 2013, comes back to me. “Finty,” she says, “has that rare mix of heart-shattering vulnerability and a sort of flinty toughness that says, ‘Don’t f*** with me.’ Utterly brave, utterly generous, ready to put her heart on the line.”

Attenborough says one other thing. In rehearsal Williams, he says, “gives everything”. He is not at all surprised that I should find her somewhat spent by 4.30 in the afternoon. “She gives her all.” She has given me her all too. Next time we meet, let’s settle for a lunchtime sandwich. Pack of Lies is at the Menier Chocolate Factory, London SE1, to November 17

picture credits

1) Finty Williams and her mother, Judi Dench (DAVE M. BENETT/GETTY IMAGES)

2) CHRIS MCANDREW FOR THE TIMES

3) Jasper Britton, Chris Larkin, Macy Nyman and Williams in Pack of Lies

4) Williams in 2000 with Michael, her father, and DenchMICHAEL CRABTREE/PA

[enbouton]

Better Call Saul Rewatch, Part 2/30: I’m A Lawyer, Not A Criminal

Mijo (Season 1, Episode 2)

Written by Vince Gilligan & Peter Gould / Directed by Michelle MacLaren

Breaking Bad liked to juxtapose food preparation with menace (particularly where Gus was concerned), but after some extreme close-ups on blood-red peppers and some vivid sound design, we pull out and see that Tuco’s just, well, cooking. In an apron, in his grandma’s kitchen. (Raymond Cruz gives more nuance to Tuco here than he had the chance to in Breaking Bad. He’s not quite as quick to anger, which actually makes him scarier, since you don’t know when he’s going to strike.)

Aside, this is such a Breaking Bad frame:

Mrs. Salamanca arrives with Cal and Lars in tow, fretting about the accident; Tuco reassures her and sends her upstairs, ominously adding “turn up the volume real loud so you can hear it”. I love the twins’ complete obliviousness to the danger they’re in. Even when Tuco pointedly asks them if the cops are coming, they don’t get it; they’re still yammering about “dollar amounts” when he picks up his abuelita’s cane.

The first half of this episode is harrowing. A situation Jimmy thought he could micromanage has spiralled out of control, and he looks sick with fear throughout, face contorting, hands trembling. He does a good job of talking Tuco down at first, only for it all to collapse like a house of cards when Lars yells that the scam was his idea. This brings us to a classic set-piece:

The desert! I missed you.

It’s a good choice not to show Nacho taking in the information about Craig and Betsy and the money they stole; it keeps our attention locked to Jimmy’s perspective. All we need to learn about Nacho at this point is that he’s smarter and more level-headed than his boss.

This scene is where we see that Jimmy really is a good advocate at a fundamental level. He reads Tuco well enough to know how to appeal to him; he deploys truths and untruths selectively for the greatest effect. When Tuco won’t budge on the issue of the twins’ punishment, he starts bargaining: what’s proportionate? What’s fair?

Giving Jimmy credit for arguing on behalf of Cal and Lars after he himself is set free would be setting the bar low, but it does demonstrate qualities that Saul Goodman must have buried pretty deep. He saves the twins’ lives, and he looks utterly disgusted with himself when he and Tuco shake hands on their “sentence”.

The whole leg-breaking/breadsticks sequence is... a lot. You get momentarily distracted by the sight of Jimmy’s maybe-date (it made me wonder about his and Kim’s past relationship; there’s obviously something between them, but he’s flirting with someone else; did they just fool around a few times, or did they actually date and then break up?) and then the snapping starts and ugh it’s just awful. Kudos to the sound design department. Please never repeat this.

It’s poignant that Jimmy, traumatised and blind drunk, ends up seeking shelter at his prickly brother’s house. Chuck seems to experience pain in his right arm just after Jimmy passes out on the couch, right before he thinks to look for Jimmy’s phone. This is an early hint at the true source of his symptoms: if it were really the electromagnetic fields, he’d have reacted as soon as Jimmy crossed the threshold, but he seems fine until he appreciates what a sorry state Jimmy is in.

The next morning, we get to see Chuck’s house in daylight for the first time. In general, the interplay of light and shadow in Chuck’s house is managed beautifully. Draped in a space blanket, Chuck passive-aggressively informs Jimmy that he’s out of milk, and then beautifully pretends not to have read the urgent care bill that fell out of Jimmy’s pocket. The whole “take off the space blanket” back-and-forth that ensues is just so well written and acted, in such an unflashy way. Underneath Jimmy’s hungover frustration is the fear that he is the reason Chuck is under the space blanket:

Jimmy: Hey, Chuck, listen. I— I know how this looks. I’m down to my last dime, and suddenly I’m paying for broken legs. But it’s not that, I swear. This represents a good thing, ultimately.

Chuck: Okay.

Jimmy: I’m not backsliding. This isn’t Slippin’ Jimmy.

Chuck: Fine.

Jimmy: Take off the space blanket, will you, please, Chuck?

Chuck: It helps.

Jimmy: Take off the space blanket. I didn’t do anything wrong.

Chuck: It has nothing to do with that. It was your phone.

Jimmy: Take off the space blanket.

Chuck: Why?

Jimmy: Take off the space blanket, Chuck. Come on. Take off the blanket.

Begrudgingly, Chuck takes it off. Jimmy goes out to find his phone, and Chuck wraps himself back up again.

Another montage! I love this one, it’s so snappy. The Baroque music is something we wouldn’t have heard on Breaking Bad. We get to see Jimmy wheeling and dealing with DDA Bill “Petty With A Prior” Oakley, subsisting on vending-machine coffee, and exchanging glances with Kim. The shot where Jimmy meets a client, walks into one courtroom, and emerges from another door with a different client is almost balletic, and the sequence of cuts between arguments in different cases (improvised by Bob Odenkirk) is especially good. Just as he did at HHM and the nail salon, he engages with the people around him, giving coffee to a deputy outside the courtroom. His suits, shirts and ties are notably subdued; James M. McGill isn’t flashy, after all.

The show takes its time integrating Mike within the plot, which is good. They could have gone full fanservice from the start, but they don’t. (The audio description track on Netflix just calls him “the parking attendant” for the first few episodes until someone finally uses his name.) You do wonder why, after the third or fourth time Mike makes Jimmy go back for more stickers, he doesn’t start double-checking his validation with the clerk. Maybe he did offscreen and she wouldn’t budge.

The sequence where Jimmy gets into his office, checks for messages, unfolds his bed, pours himself a drink and settles back before being disturbed is one of the quiet, carefully observed scenes that BCS does so well. Nothing dramatic is happening, it’s just a guy coming home from work and making himself comfortable.

The exchange in which Nacho asks Jimmy to help him rip off the Kettlemans would do little but move the plot forward were it not for Nacho’s uncomfortably accurate reading of Jimmy. Much as he protests, much as he insists that he’s sticking to the straight and narrow, much as he pretends to be only temporarily based in Mrs. Nguyen’s back room, he is seen through.

One of the tragedies of Jimmy McGill’s life is that no matter what he does, people keep telling him who and what he is and always will be: Slippin’ Jimmy, a conman, a criminal. Another one is that he keeps on proving them right.

Misc.

“Judge’s gotta see your mother. … Well, do you know anybody who looks like her? … No, an uncle won’t do it.”

Hello and goodbye to Jimmy’s shortest-lived alter ego, Special Agent Jeffrey A. Steele, FBI. I wonder if we’ll ever see him again?

This is so far the only episode of BCS directed by Michelle MacLaren, who directed some of my favourite Breaking Bad eps (Salud, Madrigal, Buried) including such #iconic scenes as the poolside cartel massacre. 

Timeframe: May 25 to maybe June 5, 2002; the urgent care receipt is dated May 25th, and Jimmy wears at least nine different ties in the courthouse montage, suggesting at least two weeks of work.

The parking lot is the one at the end of 1st Street, behind the Albuquerque Convention Center; it’s not actually attached to any of the courthouses, but it is very close to them. (NB: whenever I cite a location, credit should go to Marc Valdez, who has catalogued pretty much every site used in filming BrBa and BCS on his blog.)

Music

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Juan García Esquivel (1958), during the bar scene

Vivaldi’s Concerto for Strings in G Major, RV 151 (Concerto alla rustica), first movement, during the court montage

References

The Code of Hammurabi: a Babylonian legal code dating back to 1754 BCE that codified the principle of retaliatory justice. Law #196 states “if a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put out” (source).

“Title 21, Schedule II through V, including Part B” refers to the United States Code Controlled Substances Act.

“It’s showtime, folks” is from All That Jazz (1979). Context, from Shmoop:

Joe Gideon is a chain-smoking, pill-popping workaholic by day and playboy by night. As a famous choreographer-director, he is physically burning out. Every morning he greets his hungover, bloodshot image in the bathroom mirror with, "It's showtime, folks!"

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[cfleury315-blog]

I Have a Purpose. Just Tell Me What It Is.

I miss the provider role. I know that sounds misogynistic like the next few lines should say with a slight twang to my voice, “I feel less of a man because I don’t bring home the bacon. Instead, my wife brings it home, and I’m expected to fry it up.” No. I miss working. I miss making my own money. I miss the simplicity of going to the nine to five and contributing to the good old Canadian dream. I don’t miss what I did, working with blisters or burnt hands isn’t my kind of fun. Plus, I had to work with powdered lead, and really, nobody should have to take the risk with that stuff. Nevertheless, I guess what I am saying, I miss having a purpose.

The last time I had an economic sense of purpose was, I guess, about four years ago. I worked for a company named Activation Laboratories. They specialize in rock sampling. Basically, survey companies would go out and drill in various spots in the countryside looking for expensive, well, rocks. They would send us their samples, and we would process them. It isn’t as glamorous as I make it out to be. You stood in one spot feeding a machine all day. It crushes the core into pebbles; then another device turns it into dust. From there, it’s bagged, tagged, and sent to me. I take the sample and measure it, stick it in a cup full of lead, and set it on fire. After that, the fire melts everything into tiny sliver lead beads, and I put them into a test tube. I don’t know what happens after that; that kind of information was above my pay grade.

I assume you’re thinking, “Really, you miss being drenched in lead and sticking your hands into a hot molten furnace?” No. I miss the paycheck. Slightly above minimum wage, but, after taxes, all mine. You need to understand, I earned my money like all slavery-wagers do, with good old fashion blood, sweat, and tears. Yes, there were tears. You don’t suffer from second-degree burns and not shed squirts of salty sorrow. I may be masculine, but pain is pain, and second-degree burns are the worst.

The problem with low skill tertiary labour is the lack of job security. The work depended solely on supply and demand, so if there is no demand, employers don’t supply the work. Therefore, lay-off season was roughly every four to six months and lasted anywhere between two to four months. Employment insurance is dependent on the amount you pay into, and if you close out your EI claim from the last time you were laid-off, you must go through the entire process again. A six-week waiting period and all. I was foolish enough to close my claim because the EI benefit website does not tell you to keep your application open just in case you get lay-off again. With that realization, I felt this moment of sudden dread when my boss gave me a pink-slip. My mind kept running through moving pictures of the worst-case scenarios leading to the hardest question I had to answer, “What am I going to do now?” I was the sole provider. The fire that kept the pilot light burning. But without the oxygen compensating my flame, we were in cold water.  

At this point, I had been through a fist full of jobs since coming to Thunder Bay, and quite frankly, besides Act. Labs., the only thing I’m significantly qualified to perform is cleaning toilets, scrubbing floors, and wiping tables. I didn’t want to go back to that again. Nevertheless, being the provider, I had no choice but to find something. Anything. So, I laced up my worn-out sneakers and hit the streets with a bag-pack full resume.

Guess what? Businesses don’t accept walk-ins anymore. They kept turning me away with the same explanation: “We can’t take your resume, you need to submit it online,” said the receptionist from the Public School Board. Skeptically my eyes narrowed as I looked passed her thick frames into her formal stare. I shook my head in disbelief and replied, “Really? But your ad says you are looking for someone right now. So here I am, with my resume in hand, and ready to work.” In hindsight, I should have kept my tone a little less snippy, but earlier that day, I had that same conversation with the customer service representative in Walmart. “Sorry sir, you have to submit your resume online,” the receptionist reiterated arrogantly. Her composure was like thick ice, cold and transparent. She was professional, and I was some fool off the street.

After a few anxious weeks with a cell phone stuck to my hand, I came to realize that the job market wasn’t going to give me a break. There was nothing out there for an uneducated labourer. The only interview I had was with the Econo Lodge Hotel. I walked in with ten years of experience cleaning up other people’s messes, so working for a two-bit drive-in Hotel, I’m not too proud to say, I was over-qualified for the housekeeping position. However, the interview lasted five minutes and I left feeling uneasy. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the manager was a pretty nice guy, but I got the impression he was trying to convince me that this position wasn’t for me. His exact words were, “You know this is a cleaning position. The work doesn’t involve any heavy lifting or fixing furniture.”  I thought, “Hey, that sounds awesome.” I replied, “I know, that’s why I’m here. I’m a cleaner.” The manager looked at me like I was from Venus. I went on to tell him, “I would be a great asset to your company. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty, and I’m no stranger to hard work.” (Cliché after cliché after cliché) “As you can see on my resume, I know how to use a carpet shampooer, plus, I’ve done minor floor covering, so I know how to fix wear and tear.” The manager just nodded and smiled without any attempt to feign interest. He finished the interview with a shake of my hand and an assurance I’d be hearing from him in the following week. However, a week later, I found out from an old colleague that she has gotten the job. I asked her how; she chuckled as she said, “I’m a woman. Companies don’t like to hire men to do housekeeping.” You’ve got to be kidding me. She laughed uncontrollably at my naivety, and tried to comfort me by saying, “You should try the school board or the restoration places. They have good wages and they have more labour intensive work for a strong guy like you.”

My mind raced with this old information. Why did the Econo Lodge even bother calling me in for an interview, if he was going to end up conforming to traditional gendered roles? Does having a male name on the interview log sheet give a perception of gender diversity? The difference between my friend and me is not our work ethic.

I had never thought about the differences between the sexes as being anything more than biological. There were the old schoolyard stereotypes, yet, as far as I knew, real life didn’t replicate recess. I was living in the real world. The adult world. The world my teachers explained we are all equal. We lived in a democratic society built upon principles of morality, liberty, and justice for all. I thought about any kinds of inequalities because I was living in the twenty-first century and gender-politics should be an archaic notion. My wife and I have always lived equally. We both worked. We both looked after the house. We both took part in the child-rearing responsibilities. Having been denied work because the job involves a male performing domestic chores is completely backward.

Somberly, I turned to my wife and said, “I give up.” At that moment, I knew what I was implying. She didn’t. She looked at me curiously, her eye rapidly blinking as she spoke, “What do you mean?” I wanted to tell her that I was giving up what society defines as a man. I officially cracked under pressure. I was handing in my provider card, and taking a vacation. Instead, I told her, “I think I’m going to have to try McDonald's.” Those words slide out of my mouth, which tasted like stale, salty french fries, and regression. We sat on the couch in silence for a long time before she finally answered the hard question: “Why don’t I look for a job?”

Shockingly, her statement made a lot of sense, and why didn’t we think about this before? The simple answer: We had, but the retail market has no set hours so we would be working at all hours of the day and had no one to look after our kids. Our two oldest children were in school, but our youngest child was three years old at the time, and he would need daycare. That’s the other problem; daycare costs are astronomical. A licensed daycare cost $40-$70 a day, and the waiting lists are long. However, unlicensed daycares charge $25-35 a day, and well let's say, you get what you pay. Either way, if both of us are working, one of us would be working to pay for the daycare, which doesn’t make economic sense.

Being the product of our generation, we both believed that she should stay home to look after the kids because mothers are naturally nurturing, and they need her more than me. I had to work because I was told it was my responsibility to support my family, and I failed miserably.  But, my wife’s idea of going back to work was our only choice. She was more qualified than me. She has a high school degree and is a certified Personal Support Worker.

Within a few weeks of our conversation on the couch, she was working in Respite care and making double what I was making at Activation Laboratories. I settled into a life of domesticity. One thing I’ll have to admit: I love every single minute of it. Cleaning up the house took me an hour on most days, (two to three if I felt constructive) the rest of the time I got to play around with my son. We went on long walks to the park and the library. We chased each other around, or we laid in the sun reading a book. When my other two children came home from school, we would sit at the dinner table and help each other with homework. Then, we all pitched in with some chores. Most of the time, my wife would come home and not have to lift a finger, but there would be days when she would take the kids off my hands while I made dinner. I would be chopping some lettuce and thinking about how beautiful everything turned out. The window in front of me had a perfect view of the strawberries my son, and I had planted together. I smiled at the western sun shining off the vibrant red fruit, and I thought, “Wow, I’m actually managing to keep them alive.”

Suddenly, I felt a sting on my right butt cheek, and I turned to meet my wife’s playful gaze. “Hey dear, your butt feels more jiggly than usual.” As my knife sliced through the cucumber, I turned my head with a jaw-dropping expression, “How could you say something like that to me?” Her comment stung, but not as much as the knife hitting my fingernail. Luckily it didn’t pierce the skin. I took a step back nursing my finger as she laughed hysterically at me. “What? I was only pointing out that your butt feels jiggly. You put on some weight since you stopped working.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; I was quite offended by her comment. Sure, I gained a few extra pounds. Somedays, my son and I sat on the couch munching on goldfish crackers while I folded laundry. Not every day can be beautiful. On rainy days, I like to put my feet up. There is only so much housework I could do before I begin to look around and nitpick at the single piece of cat food that happened to fall out of the bowl as they were eating. In a matter of seconds, I lament all this information to her, and she continued to laugh at me as she replied, “You need a hobby.” I threw up my hands in frustration, “Oh, like I didn’t have enough to do around here.”

She was right; I did need a hobby. The biggest problem was that I was getting bored. I filled my time with chores, maintenance, and children. Once it was done, I sat around and ate. Domesticity was my new purpose, and I was bored. Increasingly, I found myself scanning the want ads and job banks looking for something, anything to find some relief from the monotony of domesticity. There was nothing out in the working world for a high school dropout. The demographics had changed, and the jobs requiring brawn over brain were gone.

One day, I received a text message from a friend of mine. She had gotten wind that the Catholic School Board was hiring custodians, and most importantly, I didn’t have to apply online. I raced at the opportunity and submitted my resume. The hours were causal and in the evening. I could be home during the day with my son and go to work after my wife came home. I could finally get back to some normalcy, reach back into the provider role, and feel a sense of purpose other than a housekeeper and a father.

Nervously, I filled out the application. I squirmed as I tried to remember how to spell the names of the various equipment I had been trained to operate over the years. When they called my name, I met a group of men dressed in expensive suits sitting around a boardroom table. It was quite intimidating. It didn’t feel like an interview. It felt like any second a big man in a red candy apple suit should spin around in his desk chair like a bond villain. Then, unravel a sixteenth-century scroll and tell me to, “please sign here,” in a malicious voice. Realistically, I wanted to ask them if I was applying for the right position. Maybe, I checked off the box that was labeled teacher, not the box marked: the guy who scrubs poop off toilet seats.

Overall, I nailed it. Every question the interviewers asked, I had a great answer. I knew the equipment. I knew the safety procedures. I knew the lockdown policy. I knew how to handle hazardous waste, which also told them I could pass the WHIMIS test (for the millionth time). They said to me, on the spot, that this job was mine, except for one question I couldn’t answer: “Can you provide us with a copy of your high school diploma?” Crap! I tried hard to hold my composure and keep myself sounding as sincere as possible when I said, “Yeah, I mean, I don’t have a copy with me, but I’m sure I could find one you.” They told me if I could get one to them as soon as possible I could start right away. I shook their hands with a fake smile and left feeling like a failure. I had achieved so much in my short time on this earth. I had rubbed up against barriers before, but this one was like fate slammed my face up against a brick wall and using it as a cheese grater. There was no walking around this barrier. I had to go over, what I needed was a ladder.

Lucky for me, I came home, and the house was empty. A friend took my son for the day, so I sat on the couch stewing in my own self-pity. My laptop was open on the coffee table, and I sat there watching Google’s scream at me with its daily graphic of a nineteenth-century schoolmarm lecturing her students. I typed my only option in the search bar: Adult Education. Scrolling through the results, I found myself wondering if it was possible for a guy my age even to tease the idea of going back to school. I mean, at this point, I felt like I had forgotten more than I have ever learned. If I did this, could I succeed? Or was my age another barrier?

Well, I went for it, and I did succeed. I found my ladder. Now that I think of it, it seems so simple. The ladder was in front of me the whole time. Instead of looking forward, I should have looked down. The stupid part was what I couldn’t do in four years of high school; I did in three months. I went once a week to the adult education center for four hours a day. They set me up for the GED exam. I paid my two cents and passed. I hit the average passing grade for every subject, except English, I passed with an eighty-seven percent in the writing category.

           I must have stared at the certificate for hours after receiving it in the mail. I was proud of myself, yet there I was, a high school graduate after ten years of being out of high school, with the hard question still on my mind: “What am I going to do?” I could reapply at the Catholic School Board. Run in there screaming, “I have it, here it is, let get started.” Or, I could tempt fate once more, do the unthinkable, and take it one step further.

           So, here is where I should say, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. The truth is, I had the idea when I was young, but the idea was usually attached to some adult questioning, “What do you want to be when you grow up young lad.” Yeah, I wanted to be a writer as much as I wanted to be an astronaut or a firefighter. I always thought of it as a childish dream, yet as I stumbled through the university website with my eyes closed pointing at random programs, I felt like I was sitting on the opportunity to do something I’ve always wanted to do. I just needed to pick.

The day I walked onto the Lakehead Administration Office grounds. I had the same adult voice echoing through my head. The sound was so intensely amplified, I thought blood was going to start leaking out my ears, “What are you going to do? What do you want to be?” I figured, if I picked something, eventually, I would figure out what I truly wanted. However, the only way I could make the voice stop was to answer the hard question with certain honesty. So, I closed my eyes, reached deep inside myself, grabbed on my inner child, and let him make the decision, “What do you want to do? What do you want to be?” The child’s voice overtook my own and shouted, “I want to be a writer.” I opened my eyes to find that the entire administration office was staring at me like I was a mental patient. I saw a tall, brawny man with his phone in his hand, in which I assumed was calling security. I took a step back and babbled, “Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to someone about registering for next year’s classes.”

So here I am at the end of my third year as an undergrad. Trying to stuff as much information in my head as possible before it explodes all over the blank page. I know that most of my papers come back to me with the words “awkward” printed all over them, which makes me begin to believe that this is a defining characteristic. However, I’m finally confident enough to break out of my shell. But just because I know what I want to do with my life, I am still longing to get out there. Beyond this desk. Beyond these walls. I still feel like my sense of purpose is unfulfilled. Time is moving too damn slow, and it needs to hurry up. I’m craving my purpose.

Don’t get me wrong, going to university is excellent, I found some purpose in being a student, but it’s not the same. In a way, being a student is artificial. I work just as hard, but I can’t reap the rewards right away. Although I should be finding some sense of self-satisfaction about gaining additional knowledge about the world around me, I can’t take complacency to the bank, cash it in for prestige, and feed my kids on nineteenth-century poetry. They have a hard enough time digesting twentieth-century poetry. (One fish, two fish, no fish, boohoo fish.) I know when I get out of here, I’ll have more walls to climb. The important thing is I’m not afraid of those heights anymore. So, I have to wait a few more years for a piece of paper that tells me I’m good enough to re-enter the workforce. Then, I’ll officially be certified. No more legwork. No more knuckle dragging. No more backbreaking labour for minimum wage. Right?

[azulblue9]

PRINCE'S BIGGEST FAN WAS A 93-YEAR-OLD CLEVELAND WOMAN & SHE HAD THE MEMORABILIA TO PROVE IT

By ANNIE ZALESKI

Editor's note: After this story was filed, Mary Boyer passed away at the age of 93.

Mary Boyer can remember the exact moment she became a Prince fan. It was July 1984 -- weeks after the release of his groundbreaking LP, Purple Rain -- and a friend invited her to see Prince's ambitious movie of the same name. Incredibly, Boyer was the only person her friend could find to tag along to the theater.

"As soon as [Prince] came on [the screen], my heart just went [makes whooshing noise], and I said, 'I know this guy. I just know him,'" recalls Boyer today. "By the end of the film, that was my guy."

Boyer was no teenager experiencing her first taste of idol worship. At the time she saw Purple Rain, she was 60 years old.

"I DIDN'T INTEND TO BE A COLLECTOR, BUT IF I WENT TO A STORE AND THERE WAS SOMETHING THERE WITH PRINCE, I JUST COULDN'T LEAVE IT."

Buying that movie ticket unwittingly changed her life, transforming her into one of Prince's biggest fans. Over the next few decades, the mother of seven saw the Purple One 25 times, in far-flung locales such as New York, Detroit, Chicago, Canada, and his home base of Minneapolis. In her sprawling house in Cleveland, Boyer even had a dedicated Prince room -- with walls painted purple, of course -- crammed full of memorabilia related to the icon. Photos, magazines, vinyl, posters, CDs, pins, laminates, promo swag -- you name it, chances are Boyer had it. At the peak of her collecting, she had 300 different posters, 100 different T-shirts, and more than 1,200 unique albums in every format.

"I didn't intend to be a collector, but if I went to a store and there was something there with Prince, I just couldn't leave it there," she says. "I bought it, and pretty soon, I had quite a bit of stuff." After her kids moved out, all of that "stuff" found a home in one of their old bedrooms.

"We painted it a light purple, and I just started filling it up." She laughs. "I loved everything I put in there. I was very, very happy with it."

Now 93, Boyer is sitting in the living room of her apartment on the outskirts of Downtown Lakewood. The space is cozy, filled with cherished art, knickknacks, and photos she's picked up over the years. Boyer is fond of collecting things besides Prince-related items -- miniatures, as well as Egyptian and Oriental art, are interests of hers -- although she's downsized her belongings considerably. In the spring, she moved from that giant old house into this current, more compact space.

Scattered here and there, however, are references to her devotion to Prince. A coffee mug featuring variations of his visage is within arm's reach, near a photo book filled with Prince photos. A glossy, soft-glow snap of late-era Prince stares up from behind glass on the top of a nearby desk; a business card from the long-closed, Minneapolis-based New Power Generation, the Prince-owned retail store, is also tucked away. In a nearby hallway is a media rack with several shelves of Prince bootleg DVDs, while in her bedroom is a panoramic photo of the Prince room at its most impressive, along with some of the meaningful tokens she kept -- including a cardboard Purple Rain die-cut stand-up and a healthy selection of framed photos of all sizes, spanning the artist's entire career.

"Take a look around you, at least you got friends"

Also visiting this steamy Friday afternoon in August is Dennis Roszkowski, a photographer and long-time Prince fan from Westland, Michigan, who often visits Boyer and helps out at a local library's events. The pair met in 1989 because of their shared Prince fandom -- an organized, meticulous person, he once cataloged Boyer's memorabilia so she knew what she had -- and remain close friends.

Boyer amassed her Prince collection by visiting local record stores, where she would sometimes find promo vinyl dumped by radio DJs, or by attending record conventions. Employees came to recognize her and her obsession, and would sometimes save special items for her, such as a life-sized cardboard stand-up of Prince circa the 1991 LP Diamonds and Pearls.

In the mid- to late-'90s, Boyer and Roszkowski would also attend regional Prince Fests -- more or less gatherings of diehards to celebrate the artist -- and sell duplicate albums, as well as trade for things she didn't have.

THEY SAW PRINCE FOUR TIMES IN 75 HOURS.

Along with others from the fan community, the pair also attended many Prince concerts and special events: the week-long Prince Celebration at his studio/compound Paisley Park in 2000, appearances at his one-time Minneapolis nightclub, Glam Slam. At one point in 1993, they even saw Prince four times in 75 hours.

Boyer often expressed her admiration for Prince in more direct ways. "She would send letters to Paisley Park for years, and she would send little gifts to Prince," Roszkowski says. "And she would enclose a checklist with a self-addressed stamped envelope [that] said, 'Did Prince see this?' and 'Did he like it?' and they would check off 'Yes, he liked it,' and send it back. She had this connection with them."

Boyer and Roszkowski say that one-time Prince manager Gilbert Davidson and half-brother Duane Nelson (who handled security) were aware of her fandom, and always treated her kindly and with respect when they crossed paths. Although Boyer once had the chance to get a behind-the-scenes tour of Paisley Park and attended shows there, she never actually met and had one-on-one time with Prince. The closest personal experience she had was at an April 1993 after-show at Chicago's Metro, when the artist pulled her up onstage during the first encore.

"He was doing his show, and all of a sudden, towards the end, he said, 'Turn the lights on,'" Boyer recalls. "He said, 'Whose grandma is that down there? We gotta get her up here and have her shake her doodle!' or something like that." Boyer laughs. "And then he sang this song 'Johnny' -- it's a little risqué, shall we say. And I know he did it to see if it would embarrass me a little. Then during the song, I was supposed to sing this 'oh-oh-oh-oh' [part], and I didn't do it very good.

"And he gives me that look," Boyer continues, referencing the sassy, quasi-exasperated glance for which Prince was known. "I hit him on his arm, and he had me do it again, and I did it. And he just laughed and then gave me a big, big hug. And I was so happy. I just wanted him to know that I really liked him. It wasn't that I had to be seeing him all the time. But you know how you want somebody to know that…"

They mean a lot to you?

"Yeah," she says. "That was a high moment in my life."

"I only want to see you in the Purple Rain"

Born in Fargo, North Dakota, Boyer and her family moved to Lakewood when she was a toddler. She grew up there and went to Lakewood High School, which is where she met her late husband, Jim. She was a member of a sorority; he was a member of a fraternity. One afternoon, the pair happened to see each other at a local ice cream store.

"I was in there talking to some guy, and Jim came in," Boyer recalls. "And the guy said to him, 'Do you have a date for the Friday night dance?' And he goes, 'No.' [The other guy] says, 'Why don't you take Mary? She's a lot of fun.' And he says, 'Do you want to go?' And I said, 'Yeah.' Because he was real cute."

Music entered her life after the couple started having children. Her second-oldest son, Wink -- who "was a hippie, shall we say," Boyer says -- introduced her to Jefferson Airplane's Surrealistic Pillow. That LP changed everything. From there, Boyer started embracing the then-new music of the day, such as Leon Russell and the Rolling Stones. She also started going to shows, among them, Neil Young, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Elton John, and David Bowie's first US concert. 

"I was the cool house," Boyer says with a laugh. "That's probably why it was easy for me to get into Prince. It wasn't like it was strange, because I was used to going to concerts. We did go to a lot of concerts, and my kids, of course, thought I was a 'cool' mother."

Jim was also 100% supportive of Mary's Prince fandom, which may have surprised some. "[People would say], 'How come it doesn't bother you?'" Boyer says. "[And he said] 'I'd rather have her doing that than sitting around crocheting something.' He liked the idea that I had young friends, because he didn't like to do a lot, except play golf. He didn't have to entertain me, because I was doing my own entertaining."

Incredibly, however, in recent years, Boyer has sold off and otherwise given away a large portion of her Prince memorabilia. Even stranger, "it didn't bother me at all," she says. In part that's because she's been preoccupied dealing with health issues, and uses oxygen as she gets around. ("I hate it," she says vehemently about that.) But Boyer also has the remarkable personality trait where she's able to switch gears and hobbies on a dime -- and never look back.

"I have this kind of a life where every 10 years, I changed," she explains. "Until I was in my, say, 40s, I was a mother, and never went anywhere. In my 40s, my husband and I started to go out square dancing. We did what they call challenge, so that you had to go to workshops and stuff. When I hit my 50s, I went to [local community college] Tri-C and took classes in astrology, and I became an astrologer. I was that for 10 years -- doing readings. And then I went to a Prince movie -- that changed that, and then I gradually stopped doing official astrology things.

"Every time I changed, I dropped the other thing almost completely," Boyer says. "That must be why when I was ready, getting tired of everything I had -- why I was able to do it."

"And no regrets," adds Roszkowski. "You brought your favorite things here."

"Life is just a party, and parties weren't meant to last"

In an odd coincidence, Roszkowski was helping Boyer move out of her house and into her apartment on the same day news broke that Prince had passed away. He recalls that his hands were shaking as he set up his laptop to read more about the news. "Mary looked at me and said, 'What's wrong?'" Roszkowski says. "And I said, 'Mary, Prince just died.' And I just remember her saying, 'I always thought that I would be in heaven before Prince.'" In the background, Boyer chuckles slightly.

The mood in the apartment turns reflective, as Roszkowski ruminates on the reactions he and Boyer received from people they had met because of his music. "The amazing thing about that day, is that all Prince fans that we know, we just started hearing from people we hadn't heard from in years," he says. "Every Prince fan can tell the same story: they know where they were when they heard, and how they were feeling. Everybody's phone just blew up -- people started calling, sending text messages. 'Oh my god, have you heard the news?' It was such a surreal moment.

"We relied on phone calls that we were getting from friends," he adds. "And consoling each other, and trying to figure out, 'Wow. What's the world like without Prince?' Because you just can't believe it.'"

Roszkowski's thoughts summarize the unique impact of music fandom: people bond over their love of a certain artist or band -- seeing shows together, chatting online, sharing stories, maybe swapping bootlegs -- and seamlessly translate this connection into real-life, deep friendships. The Prince fandom is especially dedicated, however. In fact, Roszkowski says it was "meant to be" that he and Boyer happened to be in the same city on the day of Prince's death, as it was symbolic of the treasured connections facilitated by his art and music.

"WHAT'S THE WORLD LIKE WITHOUT PRINCE?"

"His concerts were unlike anything you saw," Roszkowski says. "You'd go there, and there was just a whole mixture of people -- ages and races -- and everybody just got together and had a wonderful time. It seemed like the Prince world was a great melting pot of people. You wished the whole world could be together having a good time, and peaceful.

"That's not what the world's like, in many respects. It is if you look for it; you can find it. And we found it with Prince. There was a connection with him that brought us all together, and we always talked about, 'Wow. Look at what we did -- together.' Just my friendship with Mary, between the two of us, what we've done, is fantastic. I'm grateful for it every day."

Boyer quietly chimes in. "I have to say, I've had a very happy life," she says. "When I was being the mom in my 30s, I loved it; when I was square dancing, I loved it. When I was in astrology, I loved it. When I [was into] Prince, I loved it."

And Boyer has her own take as to why there is such an intangible (but enduring) bond between Prince fans. It's not complicated -- but it's a theory that's as playful and laconic as the Purple One himself. 

"We're all smart," she simply says, with a laugh. "As my daughter said, 'Mom, I’m glad you're smart enough to know [Prince] was a genius.'" 

Mary Boyer ~ R.I.P. 

Source:

https://www.thrillist.com/lifestyle/cleveland/mary-boyer-lakewood-prince-memorabilia-collection

[velmaemyers88]

In Conversation with Danny Trejo: From Character Actor to Taco Mogul

The actor talked to Fortune about his adventures in Hollywood and with Trejo’s Tacos.

Nothing about Danny Trejo is what you might expect, including his secret to success.

“Everything good that’s happened to me is a direct result of me helping other people,” says Trejo, 75, whose surprisingly compact 5-foot-6 frame—clad in all black, his long dark hair hanging loose alongside a silver cross necklace—is tucked inside a booth at the Hollywood hub of his booming taco business, Trejo’s Cantina.

His soft-spoken reflectiveness and fondness for high-fives belie a life that could have gone very differently: Born to Mexican-American parents in Los Angeles, Trejo spent most of his young-adult life in and out of California prisons for drugs and robberies. It was during that time and since then that he honed his boxing talents (a helpful skill in venues like San Quentin), got sober at 25, became a prolific character actor, and, from working as a youth drug counselor and motivational speaker, discovered how much he loves giving back.

Danny Trejo inside the kitchen at Trejo’s Tacos on July 11, 2019. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

Today, Trejo’s iconic craggy visage fronts eight Trejo’s Tacos locations across Los Angeles, and the eats are a hit: The Los Angeles Times named the rainbow cauliflower tacos on its 2017 list of 10 favorite recipes; the Cantina location serves around 500 diners a day on weekends; and there’s talk of expanding the business, which now includes a doughnut shop, outside California. (He’s also recently launched Trejo’s Cerveza, currently for sale at L.A.-area Whole Foods and Total Wine.) Somehow Trejo also still has time for acting: He’ll soon add 20-plus roles to his nearly 300-credit film and TV résumé, including a second Machete sequel and August’s Dora and the Lost City of Gold, in which he voices a monkey named Boots, a role Trejo says proudly “will give me a whole new audience.”

Fortune chatted with Trejo in early July about his food-mogul renaissance, his adventures in Hollywood, and how he learned to channel a misspent youth into a force for good.

Fortune: Trejo’s Tacos feels like an L.A. institution, yet it’s only three years old. What inspired you to get into the restaurant business?

Trejo: My mom was a gourmet cook. When I around 12, I’d say, “We should start a restaurant,” but my dad was like a Mexican Archie Bunker. “Hey, we’ve got a kitchen right there!” [Laughs] Seven years ago I did a low-budget movie called Bad Ass, and one of the producers, Ash Shah, noticed that I didn’t like junk food. I am pretty picky! A few movies later, Ash says, “Danny, you should start a restaurant.” He created a business plan for Trejo’s Tacos. My team said, “If nobody’s asking you to front 50 grand, seems like a good idea!” We opened, and it totally blew up. Two years ago we opened the doughnut shop, and we sell out by 2 p.m. every day.

Anthony Bourdain raved about your tacos when he filmed Parts Unknown here in 2017. What was that day like for you?

Amazing. He joked, “You’re Mexican and you have a cauliflower taco?” He loved it. At around five or six o’clock at night, you’ll see a lot families coming in here. One woman told me, “Thank God for this place.” The kids can be gluten-free, mom can be vegetarian, and Dad can have cow!

Trejo’s Tacos offers gluten free and vegetarian taco options. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

What’s your favorite thing on the menu?

I love the nachos with steak and two eggs on top for breakfast.

Your latest incarnation as a restaurateur is another twist in an already surreal career. To what do you attribute your staying power?

I have good people around me. The same agent for 25 years. I met my assistant Mario at San Quentin when I made a movie there, and he was a prisoner. He’s been with me for 15 years.

You were discovered while working as a boxing coach on the set of the 1985 Jon Voight movie Runaway Train. But it wasn’t until you were cast as the knife-throwing Navajas in your cousin Robert Rodriguez’s 1995 film Desperado that you started to play substantial roles. Is it true you didn’t know you were related until shooting began?

We first met when I auditioned in L.A. He said, “You remind me of the bad guys in my high school.” I said, “I am the bad guys from your high school!” Then we filmed in Acuña, Mexico. My family from San Antonio visited the set. My Uncle Rudy says, “Who’s that?” I say, “Robert Rodriguez, the director.” He whistles at Robert, “Hey! Say hello to your second cousin Danny!” I was like, “What’s up, cousin? Make my role bigger!” But he didn’t. He said, “Danny, you can do more with your face than most actors can with dialogue.” I’m walking around with no shirt, all these tattoos, people asking for my autograph. Robert says, “They think you’re the star.” I said, “You mean I’m not?” Nobody really knew [lead actor] Antonio Banderas at the time. He was quiet—unlike me. [Laughs]

Trejo’s Tacos and Trejo’s Coffee merchandise on display for purchase. Two years ago, Trejo opened a doughnut shop that sells out by 2 p.m. every day. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

Robert went on to create the vigilante-hero character Machete for you. How did he evolve from a minor character in the Spy Kids franchise to fronting two, soon-to-be three features?

After he put Uncle Machete in Spy Kids, Robert did the Grindhouse movies [with director Quentin Tarantino], and they needed fake movie trailers. One was for a Machete movie. At the premiere, everybody was like, “You have to do that movie.” Machete was the first Mexican superhero. I was almost in tears when I saw 8-year-old kids dressed like him on Halloween.

Of all the people you’ve worked with, when have you felt the most starstruck?

With Robert De Niro, when we did Heat. Then Robert [Rodriguez] somehow got him to do Machete! I see him on the set and he says, “Well, well, well, number one on the call sheet now, eh?” I was like, “Can I get you some coffee, Mr. De Niro?” [Laughs]

For what roles are you most often recognized when you’re out in the world? Seeing your severed head on a turtle in season two of Breaking Bad left quite an impression with fans.

Spy Kids. Machete. Anchorman. Bubble Boy. And every Mexican I know loves Blood In, Blood Out. For Breaking Bad, I remember my agent saying, “Danny, you’re going to have a Hollywood first: You’re going to go across the desert on a turtle.” I’m thinking it’s a cartoon, or a really big turtle? “Actually, no. It’s just your head.” [Laughs]

A lot of your roles lean campy, but you’ve also acted in serious films like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Sherrybaby about a mother who’s a drug-addicted ex-con. When did you think to yourself, “Wait, I can actually act?”

I’m a drug counselor at a place called Western Pacific Rehab. A few years ago, my son Gilbert cast me in a drug-themed movie he wrote called From a Son. There’s a scene where I break down and cry. I’d never had to do that in a movie. I was thinking I’d do a John Wayne, tough-guy thing, but my son…shit, he’s so brilliant. He reminded me of stuff from when he was young. He showed me a picture of us from 1985, when he was a little baby. Then, I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t even cry at my parents’ funerals.

Trejo’s silver cross necklace and watch. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

Did you surprise yourself in that moment?

Completely. I thought, “Wow, okay, this must be acting.”

Your son is named after your Uncle Gilbert, who you’ve said led you down a path of crime when you were a teenager. What do you remember about that time?

My dad came from a family of 11, and Gilbert was the youngest. He was only six years older than me. I had no siblings, so he was like my older brother. Unfortunately, he was also an armed robber and a drug addict. He showed me how to rob when I was 14. He gave me a sawed-off shotgun and put me in front of a mirror to practice. “Give me your money, bitch. I’ll slap you!”

Your first acting job.

[Laughs] Yes. We robbed an Asian grocery store together called Far East Market in Burbank. We had a revolver, but you had to hold it just so or it would fall apart. I go, “Give me the money! Give me the money!” The woman gives me $8 from the cash register. I grabbed it, and we ran down Lankershim as this guy comes out of the back, screaming, with a hatchet!

How do you feel now about the crimes you committed?

I feel regret. I’ve never been mean, but I’ve also never let anybody take advantage of me. In prison you’re predator or prey. My friend Cookie and I had a protection ring for young kids coming in, including for gay couples who’d been married on the streets. When I got out of the pen, I’d get cards from kids we protected. Their parents also said thank you.

Did your own parents live to see your success?

My mom did. My dad saw me get sober but never saw me get into acting. He would have laughed. Even my mom was like, “Get a job, mijo,” even after I’d worked with Robert De Niro in Heat! She did get excited when I was on The Young and the Restless in 2008. She had four of her friends over to watch, and they were like, “Oh, my God.” That was it. I’d made it.

Over the years you’ve appeared in dozens of commercials and ads—selling products from Snickers to AARP—and you’re now a spokesman for the erectile dysfunction product Giddy. What appealed to you about tackling that taboo subject?

We don’t talk anything in our society—condoms in high school, birth control. We definitely don’t talk about erectile dysfunction, especially in the Hispanic community. I don’t know a man who hasn’t experienced it. I think it’s like everything I do—teaching people to neuter their dogs, warning kids about drugs, you need to show them you’re cool. You need a face like this to get through to them. Not so much as “Danny Trejo” but the guy from Spy Kids, the guy from Heat, the guy from Desperado. People think, “Okay, I want to hear what this guy has to say.”

More must-read stories from Fortune:

—Woodstock 50 lives on for now. But here’s how it all unraveled

—‘Once Upon a Time in Hollywood’ debut overperforms—but can its spell last?

—Amazon’s TV bosses want to remind you (again) why they’re not Netflix

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In Conversation with Danny Trejo: From Character Actor to Taco Mogul

The actor talked to Fortune about his adventures in Hollywood and with Trejo’s Tacos.

Nothing about Danny Trejo is what you might expect, including his secret to success.

“Everything good that’s happened to me is a direct result of me helping other people,” says Trejo, 75, whose surprisingly compact 5-foot-6 frame—clad in all black, his long dark hair hanging loose alongside a silver cross necklace—is tucked inside a booth at the Hollywood hub of his booming taco business, Trejo’s Cantina.

His soft-spoken reflectiveness and fondness for high-fives belie a life that could have gone very differently: Born to Mexican-American parents in Los Angeles, Trejo spent most of his young-adult life in and out of California prisons for drugs and robberies. It was during that time and since then that he honed his boxing talents (a helpful skill in venues like San Quentin), got sober at 25, became a prolific character actor, and, from working as a youth drug counselor and motivational speaker, discovered how much he loves giving back.

Danny Trejo inside the kitchen at Trejo’s Tacos on July 11, 2019. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

Today, Trejo’s iconic craggy visage fronts eight Trejo’s Tacos locations across Los Angeles, and the eats are a hit: The Los Angeles Times named the rainbow cauliflower tacos on its 2017 list of 10 favorite recipes; the Cantina location serves around 500 diners a day on weekends; and there’s talk of expanding the business, which now includes a doughnut shop, outside California. (He’s also recently launched Trejo’s Cerveza, currently for sale at L.A.-area Whole Foods and Total Wine.) Somehow Trejo also still has time for acting: He’ll soon add 20-plus roles to his nearly 300-credit film and TV résumé, including a second Machete sequel and August’s Dora and the Lost City of Gold, in which he voices a monkey named Boots, a role Trejo says proudly “will give me a whole new audience.”

Fortune chatted with Trejo in early July about his food-mogul renaissance, his adventures in Hollywood, and how he learned to channel a misspent youth into a force for good.

Fortune: Trejo’s Tacos feels like an L.A. institution, yet it’s only three years old. What inspired you to get into the restaurant business?

Trejo: My mom was a gourmet cook. When I around 12, I’d say, “We should start a restaurant,” but my dad was like a Mexican Archie Bunker. “Hey, we’ve got a kitchen right there!” [Laughs] Seven years ago I did a low-budget movie called Bad Ass, and one of the producers, Ash Shah, noticed that I didn’t like junk food. I am pretty picky! A few movies later, Ash says, “Danny, you should start a restaurant.” He created a business plan for Trejo’s Tacos. My team said, “If nobody’s asking you to front 50 grand, seems like a good idea!” We opened, and it totally blew up. Two years ago we opened the doughnut shop, and we sell out by 2 p.m. every day.

Anthony Bourdain raved about your tacos when he filmed Parts Unknown here in 2017. What was that day like for you?

Amazing. He joked, “You’re Mexican and you have a cauliflower taco?” He loved it. At around five or six o’clock at night, you’ll see a lot families coming in here. One woman told me, “Thank God for this place.” The kids can be gluten-free, mom can be vegetarian, and Dad can have cow!

Trejo’s Tacos offers gluten free and vegetarian taco options. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

What’s your favorite thing on the menu?

I love the nachos with steak and two eggs on top for breakfast.

Your latest incarnation as a restaurateur is another twist in an already surreal career. To what do you attribute your staying power?

I have good people around me. The same agent for 25 years. I met my assistant Mario at San Quentin when I made a movie there, and he was a prisoner. He’s been with me for 15 years.

You were discovered while working as a boxing coach on the set of the 1985 Jon Voight movie Runaway Train. But it wasn’t until you were cast as the knife-throwing Navajas in your cousin Robert Rodriguez’s 1995 film Desperado that you started to play substantial roles. Is it true you didn’t know you were related until shooting began?

We first met when I auditioned in L.A. He said, “You remind me of the bad guys in my high school.” I said, “I am the bad guys from your high school!” Then we filmed in Acuña, Mexico. My family from San Antonio visited the set. My Uncle Rudy says, “Who’s that?” I say, “Robert Rodriguez, the director.” He whistles at Robert, “Hey! Say hello to your second cousin Danny!” I was like, “What’s up, cousin? Make my role bigger!” But he didn’t. He said, “Danny, you can do more with your face than most actors can with dialogue.” I’m walking around with no shirt, all these tattoos, people asking for my autograph. Robert says, “They think you’re the star.” I said, “You mean I’m not?” Nobody really knew [lead actor] Antonio Banderas at the time. He was quiet—unlike me. [Laughs]

Trejo’s Tacos and Trejo’s Coffee merchandise on display for purchase. Two years ago, Trejo opened a doughnut shop that sells out by 2 p.m. every day. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

Robert went on to create the vigilante-hero character Machete for you. How did he evolve from a minor character in the Spy Kids franchise to fronting two, soon-to-be three features?

After he put Uncle Machete in Spy Kids, Robert did the Grindhouse movies [with director Quentin Tarantino], and they needed fake movie trailers. One was for a Machete movie. At the premiere, everybody was like, “You have to do that movie.” Machete was the first Mexican superhero. I was almost in tears when I saw 8-year-old kids dressed like him on Halloween.

Of all the people you’ve worked with, when have you felt the most starstruck?

With Robert De Niro, when we did Heat. Then Robert [Rodriguez] somehow got him to do Machete! I see him on the set and he says, “Well, well, well, number one on the call sheet now, eh?” I was like, “Can I get you some coffee, Mr. De Niro?” [Laughs]

For what roles are you most often recognized when you’re out in the world? Seeing your severed head on a turtle in season two of Breaking Bad left quite an impression with fans.

Spy Kids. Machete. Anchorman. Bubble Boy. And every Mexican I know loves Blood In, Blood Out. For Breaking Bad, I remember my agent saying, “Danny, you’re going to have a Hollywood first: You’re going to go across the desert on a turtle.” I’m thinking it’s a cartoon, or a really big turtle? “Actually, no. It’s just your head.” [Laughs]

A lot of your roles lean campy, but you’ve also acted in serious films like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Sherrybaby about a mother who’s a drug-addicted ex-con. When did you think to yourself, “Wait, I can actually act?”

I’m a drug counselor at a place called Western Pacific Rehab. A few years ago, my son Gilbert cast me in a drug-themed movie he wrote called From a Son. There’s a scene where I break down and cry. I’d never had to do that in a movie. I was thinking I’d do a John Wayne, tough-guy thing, but my son…shit, he’s so brilliant. He reminded me of stuff from when he was young. He showed me a picture of us from 1985, when he was a little baby. Then, I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t even cry at my parents’ funerals.

Trejo’s silver cross necklace and watch. Photograph by Joe Toreno for Fortune

Did you surprise yourself in that moment?

Completely. I thought, “Wow, okay, this must be acting.”

Your son is named after your Uncle Gilbert, who you’ve said led you down a path of crime when you were a teenager. What do you remember about that time?

My dad came from a family of 11, and Gilbert was the youngest. He was only six years older than me. I had no siblings, so he was like my older brother. Unfortunately, he was also an armed robber and a drug addict. He showed me how to rob when I was 14. He gave me a sawed-off shotgun and put me in front of a mirror to practice. “Give me your money, bitch. I’ll slap you!”

Your first acting job.

[Laughs] Yes. We robbed an Asian grocery store together called Far East Market in Burbank. We had a revolver, but you had to hold it just so or it would fall apart. I go, “Give me the money! Give me the money!” The woman gives me $8 from the cash register. I grabbed it, and we ran down Lankershim as this guy comes out of the back, screaming, with a hatchet!

How do you feel now about the crimes you committed?

I feel regret. I’ve never been mean, but I’ve also never let anybody take advantage of me. In prison you’re predator or prey. My friend Cookie and I had a protection ring for young kids coming in, including for gay couples who’d been married on the streets. When I got out of the pen, I’d get cards from kids we protected. Their parents also said thank you.

Did your own parents live to see your success?

My mom did. My dad saw me get sober but never saw me get into acting. He would have laughed. Even my mom was like, “Get a job, mijo,” even after I’d worked with Robert De Niro in Heat! She did get excited when I was on The Young and the Restless in 2008. She had four of her friends over to watch, and they were like, “Oh, my God.” That was it. I’d made it.

Over the years you’ve appeared in dozens of commercials and ads—selling products from Snickers to AARP—and you’re now a spokesman for the erectile dysfunction product Giddy. What appealed to you about tackling that taboo subject?

We don’t talk anything in our society—condoms in high school, birth control. We definitely don’t talk about erectile dysfunction, especially in the Hispanic community. I don’t know a man who hasn’t experienced it. I think it’s like everything I do—teaching people to neuter their dogs, warning kids about drugs, you need to show them you’re cool. You need a face like this to get through to them. Not so much as “Danny Trejo” but the guy from Spy Kids, the guy from Heat, the guy from Desperado. People think, “Okay, I want to hear what this guy has to say.”

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Follow Fortune on Flipboard to stay up-to-date on the latest news and analysis.

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50 Thoughtful Last Minute Christmas Gifts For Procrastinators 

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Cataloged in Holidays

50 Thoughtful Last Minute Christmas Gifts For Procrastinators 

January Nelson Updated December 11, 2018

If you still haven’t finished your holiday shopping, you should think about buying these last-minute gifts suggested by Ask Reddit.

1. Mason jar + equal parts granulated sugar and veg oil + either a few drops of essential oil OR some lemon zest OR vanilla extract = boutique grade body scrub.

2. Buy tickets online for a upcoming play, dinner & show, concert, game, etc. Print out page of ticket confirmation and put it in a nice Christmas card envelope. It’s an awesome gift because people tend to love it more than clothing or other junk you usually give. And if you’re parents are like mine, they barely take the initiative to go to these type of events themselves or don’t even know about them. Experience > material goods.

3. Run to the grocery store, pick up chocolate morsels, butter, and cream.

Takes about five hours to make 200 chocolate truffles. Easy to make them different flavors as well. (Orange, Bailey’s Irish Cream, and Cinnamon Honey are the good with milk chocolate. Peppermint, Khalua, and Matcha are good with dark chocolate. Peppermint and matcha are fantastic with white chocolate.)

4. At least for men, my go-to is always a beard or personal grooming kit. It’s likely something that they wouldn’t buy themselves, and many haven’t felt the exhilaration of a peppermint shampoo. Men deserve a little pampering and self care too!

5. I think mugs make a good last minute gift because they’re available at most stores, pretty cheap for a gift, and will actually be used by the recipient.

6. Socks. High-end, badass, toasty warm (if you live where it gets cold) socks. Smartwool/Darn Tough/etc.. They may “meh” at it early on, but will thank you later. Maybe even very later, but it’ll be appreciated (a lot) eventually.

7. Most people I know don’t have bluetooth hook ups in their car, FM Transmitters are absolutely fantastic, they’re relatively cheap and life changers for folks that like to listen to music while driving, Probably $15 and under.

One of those copper chef/gotham steel type skillets. They’re fantastic, less than $20, endless use.

8. Cookie/brownie mix in a mason jar with instructions on a card and a bow.

Or a visa gift card.

9. Fancy pasta, fancy jarred sauce, nice block of parm cheese, in a serving bowl with a kitchen towel. You can do this as expensively or as cheaply as you want.

I also loved a book called The Fortune Cookie Chronicles by Jennifer 8 Lee (basically, a woman exploring Chinese food in the USA as well as her own Chinese roots, and the history of fortune cookies… really fascinating). She talks a lot about soy sauce in that book, so I’ve given that book with a bottle of “real” soy sauce many times. I love sharing things I love with other people, so that’s a gift I love to give.

10. Subscription box. Like coffee? Subscription box. Board games? Subscription box. Make up? Subscription box. Ties or socks or yarn or hot sauce or tea or beer or wine or Japanese candy or marvel or harry porter or fitness? Subscription mother-fuckin box.

11. Go to the dollar store and grab some over the hand oven mitts, then head to the grocery store and get cake & brownie mixes, hand write the baking directions on a decorated index card or slip of paper. Personalize each one with a message or somesuch. Bam.

12. If it’s someone you’re fairly close to, print out a photo of the two of you and put it in a frame. It feels thoughtful, but can also be done in less than an hour and is cheap.

13. Depends how well I know them, or if I’ve used the same trick before – but it’s probably a cast iron skillet. Costs $20 for a good one (rhymes with dodge), and I always get thanked for it, like a year later.

14. Aldi.

A million calories of chocolate for about twenty quid.

Enough to distribute to everyone.

15. Here is what I do every year.

I go buy gift certificates for my favorite restaurants, and gift cards from Best Buy. I then put them in Christmas cards with no name on them.

I keep some in the house and some in my car.

If someone gives me a gift, I say “Wait a minute, I have something for you too” and go get the card. I quickly write their name on it and hand it to them.

Its worked out perfectly for me for years. I give everyone that gives me something, and if I end up with extra gift certificates or gift cards, I just use them on myself.

16. I make them an elaborate Christmas card with an etymology of their name. It’s always a hit and has more meaning than a gift card.

17. Good pair of headphones.

18. I make very good gingerbread cookies and decorate them very elaborately, like I’ll draw a portrait of them in frosting or I draw a cartoon character they like. Im pretty good at it.

19. Chia pet. So many varieties. ‘Ironic’ gift for those recipients, awesome gift for the others.

Either way you are a hero!

20. Those soft-ass blankets you find in any store around Christmas time. And then I buy one more for me. Every goddamn year

21. For girls: anything from Anthropologie. They have a great gifts and the quality/craftsmanship is decent. That and they gift wrap beautifully for free! I use this for last minute birthday gifts quite often and it always impresses.

For guy: gift cards or booze. Guys appreciate utility.

22. Nail place… Women will go wild over a free mani-pedi.

23. A bottle of their favorite spirits, or for non-drinkers/kids, a book.

24. BOOKS!

There is a book on literally any topic ever.

Fan of Formula 1? Book.

Fan of Jujitsu? Book.

Like economic news? Book.

Porn? Book.

Lonely? Book.

Want to improve yourself? Book.

And you can get books everywhere. Online, in store, thrift stores, little free libraries, everywhere.

25. Houseplants!

I usually have lots of spiderplant babies and keep a few small pots on hand. Great for all occasions.

26. Those Hickory Farms meat and cheese gift boxes.

27. For a family – Get a tin bucket of gourmet holiday popcorn (caramel / chocolate flavored popcorn) to share.

For a dude – Get a bottle of fancy champagne or other booze like whisky or bourbon.

For anyone younger than 30 – Get an Amazon gift card.

For a kid – Give them a $50 dollar bill. They likely never handle money and if they do, the $50 looks so much better than the $20. Easy way to become the cool uncle.

For a girl – Get them a gift certificate to a local salon, a big blanket, or fun warm socks (not regular socks but those nicer holiday woven socks).

For your mom – Get her an ornament that has sentimental value, or, go to the mall (who does that anymore) and get them to hand paint an ornament on the spot with the family name & year on it.

For your dad – Get him NFL or NBA tickets.

28. Things that are consumable… everyone has way too many junk trinkets just because someone felt they had to buy something.

Ground coffee from a local coffee shop (if you know the person has a grinder, get whole bean, but not everyone does). They usually have fun Christmas flavors this time of year.

A bottle of dry wine or champagne.

Nice candles (go for ones that are soy based and have lids) or liquid hand soap.

29. Who wants lottery tickets?!?!?!

30. If we’re talking non-money gifts you know what’s a great go to? TJ Maxx. They are just a hodgepodge of random stuff and they have bailed me out so much when it comes to gift giving because with all the things they have you are bound to find something for everyone.

31. Home made egg nog, Irish cream, or Kahlúa. Most people will love one of the three, they are easy to make, made by hand, affordable, and our gifts that go away.

32. I’d bake a bunch of stuff or make fancy looking caramel apples. If I give people food, they seem to be satisfied.

33. I’ll do a blanket/candle/bottle of wine/nice beer and fudge,

OR a movie/board game and stop by the dollar store for a shower caddy, fill it with popcorn, movie candies, etc if it’s for a family. Do a caddy and filler per family member.

34. Starbucks gift card. Everyone loves Starbucks.

35. Lego. Lego for the nephew, lego for dad, lego for mom, lego for granny, lego for EVERYONE!

36. Spicery subscription for three months. Print out the confirmation and chuck it in an envelope. I’ve gifted this twice and both recipients said that they never wanted any other present from me – just for that subscription to repeat.

37. If it’s last minute, I tried to go to a clothing store I know they have clothes from. Throughout the year I’ll ask “bro, nice jacket, where’d you get it?” Then I remember their spot and get them a gift card.

Then to cover my ass cause some people are weird about gift cards I say “I saw a _____ while shopping but I couldn’t remember your size/didn’t know what color you’d like/etc.”

38. Magazine subscriptions. The New Yorker. Times Literary Supplement. New Scientist. Private Eye. Done them all.

39. Mom – Candles and epsom salts.

Brother – Steam/eShop card, or go to a second hand store and find a game I think he’d like.

Dad – Itunes Gift Card or some kind of sports paraphernalia.

Girlfriend – something that reminds me of her, or that I think she’d love (last Christmas it was a pair of socks that said ,”I’m a delicate fucking flower”).

40. I buy ten copies of the best book I’ve read all year and wrap em in newspaper.

Proof of success: I do this every year

41. A brick of batteries. Everybody needs batteries, nobody will say no to batteries, and they will think of you when they are in a pinch and realize you got them a BRICK of batteries.

Great practical gift.

42. Throw blankets from the 24-hour drugstore. They’re $15 and nice enough that I use them myself. This is also my go-to for any gift swap at the office/with people I don’t know super well.

43. Pictures! Take a picture of something the receiver will like, or find one you might already have, throw it in a cheap frame and WABANG

44. Go to CVS and get a gift card (they have Amazon, iTunes, random others). Swing buy a restaurant and grab a gift card for that place. Last ditch, don’t have time to get a hard copy of a gift card- just buy one online that you can email.

45. Luxury kitchen stuff.

There’s a great kitchen & dinnerware shop within walking distance of my home. I can get pretty dinnerware, flatware, glasses and linens in a range of styles, and they have durable, high quality cookware for the more practically minded people. It’s my go to gift-shop, because everyone eats.

46. Lava Lamp!

No one has one.

They’re 20$

Oh, and it’s neat.

47. I’d bring them all to a restaurant and pay for their meal-> easy way to make a party and present at the same time without having to worry about what to buy them since they can order themselves what they want

48. Pharmacies always have cheap last minute crap like travel manicure kits and hot sauce samplers.

49. You get a box of chocolate! You get a box of chocolate! And you get a box of chocolate! Everyone gets a box of chocolate!!!

50. Cash, candy, and/or alcohol.

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Image Credit: Anthony Tran

is cataloged in Last Minute Gifts, Presents

What if kindness was cool?

What if you could live a life that would make YOU jealous? What if you could make just one person’s day better with a few simple words of encouragement?  is a book of inspirational words that will keep you fighting and ask you never to give up on life, yourself, or others. Open a page to start your day, frame a page that inspires you to keep living, share a page with a friend who needs support, or leave one behind for a complete stranger to brighten their day.

Join The Kindness Revolution

Source: http://allofbeer.com/50-thoughtful-last-minute-christmas-gifts-for-procrastinators/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/04/22/50-thoughtful-last-minute-christmas-gifts-for-procrastinators/