#please let George turn turner away

[fallingforel]

arabella pt 1

masterlist

you meet alex turner on a night out with life long friends matty george ross and adam. what happens when the night digresses?

warnings: not too sure i think slight mention of drugs, food if I’ve missed anything off please let me know and I will add them in

"Cmon Y/N" Matty states blaring through my phone speaker, while pulling it away from my ear because of how loudly he's speaking

"No I simply won't" I said back in the same tone and loudness replying to my best friend "look Matty we've been out every night this week I simply can't, because A) i don't have the funds B) I'm turning into a little alcoholic because of you, personally I think I'm being somewhat reasonable. Look if you want to go out with everyone, go ahead, stink I won't stop you but don't drag me along."

At the current moment I hate Matty. Why you may ask? Matty was trying to get me to go out to drink with him. Don't get me wrong I love him, we love each other, but sometimes he is so awfully annoying:  right now he's trying to get me to come out, I stand my ground and somehow, somehow he always wins me over I don't understand why? but I don't mind him for it because we always have the most fun

"loooooook if you're so worried about money i'll buy you all your drinks, and so what who cares if you're turning into a little alcoholic because of me we're young we've got our whole lives ahead of us. just come out for one drink please besides George Adam and Ross all want you there. don't you guys"

a whole chorus of yeahs was heard on the other end of the phone he convinced me, I swear that boy had me wrapped around his finger. "Matty I hate you" "awwh come on you love me" "You're right I do. Catch you in 30 come pick me up yeah?" "Of course i always do, love you" "love you too" I replied and quickly hung up the phone.

30 minutes later, I was suited and booted clad in a leather coat, my snakeskin boots. My hands littered with rings and of course my red lipstick. Beeping of a car horn was soon heard outside of my flat, signalling Matty was here. I shut all of the lights off, making sure Arabella's food bowl was filled, I gave her a stroke and left my flat. Heading downstairs I saw Matty in his convertible; George Ross and Adam missing though.

"There's the lead singer of the 1975 but where's the rest of them" I say placing my hand above my eyes pretending to search for them. Matty chuckled and replied with a simple "at the club already, come on bug" I hopped in and we soon sped to the club. Turning on the radio, I soon noticed that sex was playing  "Oh my god! Matty your first radio play. I'm so happy for you!" I exclaimed giving him a side hug. "Thanks love! this is so cool wait till the boys hear about this" Matty said in reply turning his head for a split second to smile at me "I'm turning it up!" I simply said in return .

Both Singing along pulling up to the club as the songs finishing  "THEY'VE ALL GOT BACKCOMBS ANYWAY THEY ALL GOT BOYFRIENDS ANYWAY". Laughing and singing along I was happy in my own world until Matty opened the door for me bringing me back to reality "you comin' bug?" "course I am stink!"I stated back.

We were making our way to the back of the line before the bouncer stopped us.  "OI!" his yelling shocked Matty and I before we turned though Matty whispered to me "don't worry I've got this, bug" uh huh sure you have tough guy I didn't dare say it out loud though, it would just start another one of our silly bickering's.

Turning to the bouncer "yeah? what's up?" "ahh sorry didn't mean to scare you there lad, just wanted to ask if you were from that band what are they called? the 1957?" I chuckled to myself before correcting him "you mean the 1975?" "yes that's the one!" "yeah he is." "ahh nice one my daughters a massive fan can I get an autograph and a photo she wouldn't believe me if I didn't have a picture you see?" Matty turned to me looking at me as if to say "is it okay?" I mouthed "course it is" and smiled.

After pleasantries were made, the bouncer let us in skipping  the queue of course because the bouncer said "it'd be rude not to" and that his daughter would "kill me if I didn't let you in"  and Matty headed straight for the bar while I went out to seek the rest of our friends. Of course, they were in a corner sipping on their drinks where they usually are. Going to join them I shouted at them in a joking manner "You boring fucks. G I would've at least expected you to be out on the dance floor by now, Hann and Ross I understand you, G I'm very disappointed "

They just all nodded their heads at me,knowing I was joking, "ya alright Y/N/N? Where's Matty? where there's one of you the other one is never too far behind" George asked me "I'm dandy G. and Matty is at the bar getting us drinks. when he comes and joins us  will you  dance with me?" I ask him. Getting a shrug as a reply so I follow it  up with  "I came out to have fun. Not mope around in a corner all night just drinking" "OI IM HAVING FUN" Ross shouting back at me "Ross you're literally bopping your head shut up" Matty shouted back handing me my rum and coke "here you go love. Get that truth serum in you" you just laughed at him sipping on it through a straw. "come dance with me Matty these lot are being boring." "Of course I'll come dance with you bug! this song seems very fitting though"

with Dizzee rascals dance wiv me was blaring through the speakers of the club. matty and I ran down the stairs heading to the dance floor dancing with each other. "THATS WHY IM ASKING B! SO LETS PARTY B COME AND DANCE WIV ME" we shouted at each other.

After some time both our drinks were finished so I headed to the bar to get some more Matty giving me his card to get some more. "hiya love what can I get you?" the bartender shouted at me over the music "one rum and coke and one red wine bottle please" I replied "of course i'll get them sorted and i'll come back in two secs" "thank you" i replied as he was walking off.

While waiting for the bartender to come back to my drink I look around for Matty and the others: Matty was dancing with George (rude if you ask me!) Ross was still sitting at our table booping along to the songs, and Adam was in the corner necking off with some girl, good for him he deserves some action. He's been upset a lot ever since his girlfriend broke up with him a few weeks ago, turns out all he needed was a night out with us.

The bartender soon came back with our drinks, tapping Matty's card i thanked the bartender again and walked off with our drinks, joining Ross at the table. All of a sudden there was a silence followed soon by excited cheers were heard throughout the club. "What's going on?" I asked Ross nodding my head to where the commotion was happening on the dance floor. "Some indie band performing tonight. think they're quite big won't lie. not too sure though" Ross said in reply to my question.

All of a sudden, the opening chords of you look good on the dance floor were heard and I immediately screamed. "OMG! ROSS ITS THE ARCTIC MONKEYS WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!!" "I didn't realise you liked em y/n/n" replying to my shouting in a calm manner "like em? I LOVE THEM ROSS!" soon Matty came by my side dragging me onto the dance floor.

We danced for the rest of their set. This is how I always wanted it to be, Matty and I with the rest of our mates dancing to absolute tunes. "this is the whole reason I dragged you out bug. Wanted it to be a surprise for you." Matty said to me grinning ear to ear, drunk yes but happy nonetheless. "you little fucker! stink " I simply said drunkly grinning back at him.

Granted the Arctic monkeys only played a few songs keeping their set small. It was a great set, covering the classics. I stayed out on the dance floor Matty went back to the table claiming he needed a break "feel the alcohol coming back up bug, need a breather" "okay i'll stay here". After a couple of songs, I looked around for Matty and the crew and couldn't find them anywhere, only Hann still necking off with that girl, didn't fancy staying with them on my own. Besides, it's not like Hann would show interest in me and I didn't want to interrupt either "Damnit Healy" I said grabbing my bag off the table and walking out the club going to find them probably shacked at the smoking shelter either smoking weed or cigarettes .

Once I got out of the club the cold air hit my face, sobering me up quite a bit, I walked to the smoke shelter, pulling my cigarettes and lighter out of my bag lighting one. waiting around searching for matty or anyone at this point, popping my head out and occasionally moving to keep me warm, Oh how I hated being on my own.

giving up and walking away because they weren't here anymore lighting another to keep me warm, suddenly I felt someone tap my shoulder with an "scuse me love" turning around with a "yeah can I help you?" not catching on that my favourite artist, had just tapped my shoulder "look it's just I saw you lighting your cigarette normally I wouldn't ask this but could I borrow ya lighter my mate took mine and I don't know where he or my lighter for that matter, is?" "Of course you can, here you go. My mates ditched me too I don't know where they are"

Looking up at me he noticed who i was "holy shit you're like the really hot model who stars in that 75 video" laughing to myself "yes that would be me, although i do have a name other than 'really hot model' it's Y/n. and the 75 are the friends who ditched me" "nice to meet ya y/n, the names Alex Turner" "yes I know who you are alex, I'm a big fan!" chuckling to himself I think more than to me. "that hilarious, such big fans of each other" laughing along too I said "yeah i guess so"

keeping each other company for a while talking about how demanding each of our jobs are George ran over to me shouting "There you are, y/n/n, been looking all over for you". "looking for me? I've been looking for you lot I came back from the dance floor and you were gone all of you. well apart from Hann, he was still there wasn't interested though. think he was more interested in that girls lips, was just about to give up and go home before you showed up" "haha yeah. well we went to go smoke a zoot but didn't think you'd want to come." george caught alex gawping at him, as if he had just seen the queen of Sheba.

Leaning into me george said in a whisper "is he alright?" "yeah he's fine, just a little starstruck that your in front of him, big 75 fan ya see, like I am of him, I don't show it though" nodding george understanding how big fan I was of the arctic monkeys he held a hand out and introduced himself "Hey, George nice to meet you" Alex tried to keep his cool "nice to meet you too, big 75 fan. isn't there more of you?" "yeah Matty and Ross are coming they're just having a heart to heart you see. came to find our best friend and adopted 5th member of our band y/n here. and our guitarist Adam is inside necking on with a bird, shown disinterest in all of us tonight"

Not too soon after, Matty and Ross came up and joined George Alex and I. Matty came up next to me and put a hand round my neck and kissed my temple, "there you are been looking all over for you bug" "went looking for you,dick" shoving him adding "you disappeared stink" with a pout. "sorry y/n/n drug duty calls" standing to attention like a solider in a jokey matter,

coming back to whisper in my ear while Alex and george were still talking "Isn't that Alex? as in arctic monkeys Alex?" "yeah it is. nice innit apparently he's a big 75 fan and big fan of me too" whispering back. Matty just smiled and went up to introduce himself to Alex but not before nicking on of my fags. taking his iconic 75 lighter and lighting it.

After pleasantries we're made. we all decided to take a walk, Alex joining us, leaving Hann behind deciding that he wouldn't want to come anyway being too distracted in some girl's lips, wandering around the streets aimlessly with no end goal that until our drunk cravings were shouting at us to get greasy kebabs. so that's what we did, we got them from the nearest kebab shop and took them to a local park and sat in it eating our kebabs. Alex got to know us, and we got to know him.

"And it was her foot!" Matty said finishing his story, we all laughed "still can't believe that happened, what drunken nights can do to us hey stink?" I chimed in running over to the bin throwing my rubbish away. the others soon finished theirs and we headed out together, deciding it was late and we should all probably head home.

Stupidly though I ended up inviting everyone back. Matty stating that it would've happened anyway "you just want to see Ara" "that's true I love her more than her own mother" "not true you just give into her because you think she's too cute" "okay yeah. but we love her equally"

Alex being confused chiming in with a "who's Ara" ross sighed with george adding in a "you just got yourself into a whole mess pal " giving Alex a pat on the shoulder knowing that Matty and I would get into a heated bickering about who's cat it was. Alex obviously knowing us for a night so didn't really know the whole depths of it. "so it's my cat, her names arabella, matty of course decided to adopt a cat as well not to mention it looked the exact same as ara, we introduced the cats one day because we thought it would be cute because well it would be nice to have our cats as best friends, turns out it was a stupid idea as one of the cats jumped out the window and it was never seen again. but the fight happened so fast we weren't sure which one was which because we hadn't gotten them collars yet. so Matty thinks Ara's his cat, but she's not" "she is she answers to Caroline" Matty added in "she answers to about anything mate" George chimed in before putting a hand round his neck taking him off so he could cool off before the bickering got any further to save Alex, he wasn't ready for the constant bickering yet.

With George Ross and Matty walking ahead and Alex and I walking behind we got to know each other better until the question i've been dreading all evening came up "so...are you and Matty like a thing?" "no of course not just best friends. although you wouldn't think, we argue like a married couple and are very cuddly but that's because we've been through a lot together, I think of Matty like a brother you know, besides Matty would be too high maintenance for me." "Good because I was hoping you and I could become something sometimes"

— end of pt 1

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 2 August 1835

7 10

12 ½

no kiss  breakfast at 8 10 - dullish coolish morning - breakfast at 8 10 -  A- off on the gray horse (1st time of her mounting him) to Lightcliffe school (her own pony being blistered on the near skin bone for a splent) walked with A- as far as Charles Howarth’s to see how she got on - on returning turned the ponies into the paddock and finished my breakfast - then at my desk writing the after part of yesterday etc till A- returned at 11 5 - then with her (rather tired) till went to my aunt at 12 ½ - read the short service in 20 minutes and sat with her till 1 from soon after then to after 2 very heavy rain with thunder and lightning so that we would not order the carriage out, and did not get to the school till 2 ¾ - only a minute or two there - the children had got their feet wet, so A- sent them home instead of to church - we ½ hour in the church (till 3 ½) before Mr Wilkinson got into the pulpit - he did all the duty - preached about 20 minutes - from Hebrew iv. 8, I think - sat an hour at Cliff hill Mrs AW- very glad to see us - seemed pleased at the idea of our going to London - then ¼ hour at Crownest explaining to Washington about Turner’s estimate for stones for the Tail goit and A- looking at plan of her Halifax property - gave SW- an order unlimited to buy the cottages in Hatters fold (let for about or above £50 per annum) to be put up to auction on Wednesday next – SW- to see Mr Leather on Tuesday and if not, to leave a note for him - told him SW- to give the average water at 5 1/2in. thro’ a 2ft. guage - 2 pumps of 8in. bore to life water 90ft. - what dimensions of wheel and goit does Mr. Leather recommend?  home at 6 ½ - dinner at 7 - a little while with my father and Marian to wish goodnight - then had Booth - he is now (having had the plans at home) in good spirits about the Lodge and bridge which he will begin of immediately - Charles H- had told him I was going away for 2 or 3 months, so B- came for money but can wait 2 or 3 weeks - explained about the Northgate business and how I went by the estimate of the work without taking into the account the price offered for old materials - B- thought it ‘nothing but right’ - then coffee till 9 - then wrote the last  16 lines of today - settled with George - we could have the places to London - indeed if we had taken them to Sheffield it would cost no more to go forwards to London! Lucky we determined to take them forwards an idea that only came into my head during the sermon at church this afternoon! to be off at 7am tomorrow to arrive in London at 6am on Tuesday at the Bull and Mouth - George took this evening my letter (and order for £4.10.0 on the Yorkshire district bank payable to George Buckle esquire with compliments and thanks for his civility and attention) to George Buckle Esquire Prerogative court office York post paid and my letter to ‘Mrs Hawkins 24 Dover street Piccadilly London post paid’ ordering a comfortable apartment and dinner (soup roast lamb and a pudding) to be ready for me at ‘6 on Tuesday evening the fourth instant’ - had just written so far at 9 20 - a few minutes with my aunt to wish goodnight and goodbye - she has been poorly all the day but seems rather better tonight -dullish but finish day till the very heavy rain and thunder and lightning from soon after 1 to about 2 ½ - still rain but less heavy till after 3 - afterwards fair or nearly so for the rest of the day -  packing from about 9 ¾ to 12 and A-, too, looking over maps to see what she wanted to complete a set etc etc and not in bed more than a minute or two before one

[muraae]

looking forward to gilded age tomorrow night but for the love of all that is holy if george russell ends up cheating on his wife with the lady’s maid i will throw the telly out the window.😭🥲😭🥲😭🥲

[keijislove]

Idiot: Ron Weasley x Reader

A/N: sup, im having my exams so im infrequent lmfao. Also, Weasley is MY king

'Alright darling, stay safe!' your mother pecked your forehead. 'And have fun!'

You had gotten an owl earlier that morning, from your friend and crush, Ronald Weasley, inviting you to spend the summer at the Burrow.

Since the War was finally over, you, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Neville, Luna and all the others had decided to repeat seventh year due to the earlier, unfavorable circumstances.

Stepping into the fireplace, you grabbed a fistful of Floo powder before speaking, 

'The Burrow!'

Green flames flashed around you as you suddenly found yourself in the Weasleys' fireplace.

Coughing, you staggered out, only to be met with a familiar red head repairing her torn textbook with Spellotape.

'Y/N!' Ginny said, shooting up from her spot to dust you off properly.

She then proceeded to squeeze you into a hug. 'You came!'

'Course I did.' you coughed again.

'MUM!' Ginny called. 'Y/N's HERE!'

In a few minutes, an elder woman with a kind face appeared in front of you.

'Y/N, darling!' Mrs Weasley hugged you. 'You must be tired, come on, up to your room. You can share with Ginny and Hermione. Go on!'

You nodded, already familiar with the layout of the house, having been there Merlin knows how many times.

As you proceeded to climb the stairs, you heard a crack as two identical boys appeared in front of you (A/N: yes, two. No Freds be dying in my fanfics).

'Can you please stop that?' you asked. 'You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

'Aww, we gave Y/N/N a heart attack!' George feigned shock.

You rolled your eyes.

'So, Y/N.' George continued.

'We've been thinking.' said Fred.

'About you.' said George.

'And your little problem.' said Fred.

'So we've decided.' said George.

'To help you with it.' finished Fred.

'Wait, wait, what?' you asked. 'What problem?'

'Oh, you know who.' George rolled his eyes.

'Voldemort?' you questioned. 'Isn't he dead?'

'Not him, you silly girl!' Fred spoke.

'Then who?' you asked.

'Won-Won.' they chorused.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter when they used the nickname Ron's ex-girlfriend had coined.

'And why, pray, is Won-Won a problem?' you giggled.

'Don't act like you aren't smitten with him.' George smirked.

'Yeah, we aren't idiots, mate.' said Fred. 'We listen, we watch, and we put it together.'

'Well I suggest you keep your theories to yourself.' you coolly said, stomping upstairs.

No sooner had you opened the door than Hermione had tackled you.

'Y/N!' she yelled. 'Merlin's sake, you're here! Did you meet Ron yet?'

'Hi Mione.' you smiled. 'No, um, I was looking for him... where is he?'

'Downstairs, in the garden.' she replied. 'He was wondering when you'd get here.'

Your cheeks flushed a little. 'Yeah, yeah, whatever.'

You ran downstairs and out the garden at top speed, accidentally bumping into a long-haired Weasley.

'Whoops, sorry Bill!' you apologised.

Bill laughed, 'It's fine, Y/N.'

You were suddenly attacked from both sides in a hug.

'Ouch, Harry, Ron, geroff me!' you squealed.

'I thought you weren't going to come!' Ron breathed.

'Yeah, he's been pacing all day.' Harry smirked causing Ron's ears to turn pink.

'Nose down, Harry.' he rolled his eyes, ears still red.

'Anyways.' you changed the subject. 'Now that there's no war and we have all the time in the world.'

'One month and a half.' George corrected.

'Yeah.' you waved off. 'Let's do something.'

'You're not hanging out with the girls?' Percy asked. 'Weren't they planning a sleepover or something?'

'Blegh.' you gagged. 'No thanks, I'd rather hang with you guys.'

Percy looked highly affronted at this blatant declaration, but didn't push it further.

'So we're playing Quidditch?' asked Charlie.

'There aren't enough people.' you pouted.

'That's okay, we can do like one beater and one chaser per team.' Harry shrugged.

'Okay.' you narrowly looked at him.

'Quidditch?' Ginny had strolled over to you. 'Can I play too?'

'No-' Ron began.

'Yes.' you firmly said.

'Well I suppose I'll be watching, then.' Hermione scowled.

'Bloody hell, how did you get here?' asked Ron, reminding you of your third year when both you and Hermione had used the time-turner to get to all your classes.

'I Apparated, Ronald.' Hermione was still sulking. 'Get on with it.'

'Alright.' said Bill. 'Fred, Y/N, Ron and Harry in one team. Fred as Beater, Y/N as Chaser, Harry as Seeker and Ron as Keeper.'

George smirked and began humming 'Weasley is our king' under his breath as Ron hurled a gnome at him.

'As for the rest of us.' Bill continued. 'Charlie, Seeker. George, Beater. I'll be  Keeper and Ginny can be Chaser.'

'If you must know.' Percy delicately said. 'I never liked Quidditch anyway.'

'We know Perce.' you grinned. 'That's why we're quiet.'

Percy scowled.

-----

The game was going well so far, your side was winning.

Well... you, Harry and Fred were anyway.

Ron made zigzags, swirls and loops but yet couldn't protect the goals.

'Wow, Ron.' Ginny remarked, throwing her next Quaffle in. 'I didn't think you would still stink at this.'

'It'd be better if he were paying attention to the game.' Harry grumbled.

'OI!' Fred yelled when Ginny aimed again. 'RON, STOP STARING AT Y/N AND PROTECT THE GOAL!'

'YEAH, WE ALL KNOW YOU FANCY HER, NOW STOP IT!' George added.

'Okay, stop it.' you snarled. 'You think this is funny, do you, joking about someone's feelings like that? Shame on you lot, honestly.'

'Hey, Y/N, they were joking.' Bill soothed.

'Save it.' you angrily threw your broom and left.

-----

You had been staring at the wall for quite sometime now.

A knock sounded on the door.

'Go away.' you called. 'Not in the mood.'

'Y/N?' asked Fred. 'Can I come in?'

'No.' you groaned, hearing the door click open.

'Mate, we were just joking.' George followed him.

'But still.' pressed Fred.

'We think.' continued George.

'That we should just ask you.' finished Fred.

'Can you stop doing that?' you asked. 'It's weird.'

'Do you or do you not fancy our brother.' they spoke together.

'Ugh.' you groaned. 'This again. FINE! Maybe I do, now what?'

'I KNEW IT!' Fred shouted. 'This is adorable.'

'And disgusting.' George made a face.

'If you tell anyone.' you warned. 'I'm cutting off your balls and feeding them to you.'

'Not a word, miss.' George grinned.

'Good.'

----

It was the last weekend before school, and all of you were partying at the Burrow.

Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, you name it, it was there.

After a particularly tipsy Fleur asked you to call her Patrick, you decided to leave and find the guys.

You bumped into a frantic redhead.

'Oh my god, Y/N I'm so sorry!' Fred guiltily said. 'I didn't mean, I swear!'

'What?' you asked.

'Well Freddie here might've told Ron your secret.' George nervously said.

'IT WAS THE FIREWHISKEY!' Fred moaned.

'WHAT?!' you screamed. 'No, no, NO!'

'And he might be looking for you right now, in the garden.' George guiltily added.

'No.' you moaned. 'I'm departing to death. Farewell, Weasleys.'

----

'So... hi.' you said when you reached the place where your crush stood.

'Y/N! Um, h-hey!' Ron awkwardly said. 'Um, someone might or might not have told me... you take a fancy to me?'

You fought the urge to scream and run. 'Erm... Well...'

'Is it true?' Ron cut off.

'Well, yes.' you admitted and looked down.

Ron didn't speak and your heart broke.

'Go on.' you shakily said, not daring to look up. 'Laugh. I dare you.'

When you looked up, Ron wasn't laughing.

Instead, he had a big grin plastered on his face.

'The bloody hell you smiling about?' you demanded.

'Y/N...' Ron began. 'You have absolutely no idea how long I've waited to hear that.'

'W-what?'

'Maybe I fancy you too?' Ron suggested.

Awkward silence.

'Wow, um.' you began. 'I s'pose we...'

'What do we do now?' asked Ron.'I guess... this is the part where we hug?'

'Yeah.' you nodded.

'Ow, Harry!' came Ginny's voice. 'Let me go, he needs to know!'

A second later, her head popped up from behind the shed.

'RON YOU IDIOT!' Ginny called.

'I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THIS!' George yelled.

'RON, MATE, MUCH AS I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE BEING THICK!' called Harry.

'I'm sorry!' Hermione yelled. 'I told these idiots not to watch!'

'But zis iz so sweet!' Fleur cooed.

'Get it, mate!' Bill yelled.

'Proud of you, Ron!' called Charlie.

'No, he's being stupid.' Percy interjected.

'Yeah mate, for once, I agree with Percy.' said Fred. 'Kiss her you idiot!'

'You.' Ron muttered. 'All of you, what the bloody hell-'

'Oh shut up.' you muttered, grabbing his face before smashing your lips onto his.

When you parted, you both had stupid grins on your faces.

‘By the way, Fred.’ you called. ‘I’m still feeding your balls to you.’

[annabellumm]

Can we please appreciate Slytherin Dream for a moment?

Pureblood Dream whose mother is the Minister of Magic and whose father is an auror, so he’s always been highly regarded.

He's always around the Ministry of Magic when he was younger while his parents were at work. There, he met other wizards, aurors, and Ministry officials and learned from them.

Dream who has been dreaming about being in Hogwarts since he was young

Because he wanted to meet other wizards his age, instead of the old people working at the Ministry

And he also wanted to prove himself as someone who was also outstanding like his parents, but as an  separate individual

The Sorting Hat took some time to place him in a house because he was courageous enough to be in Griffyindor, intelligent enough to ne in Ravenclaw, and had a lot of heart to be in Hufflepuff.

However, even grander than all of these is Dream's desire to be bigger than himself, to continuously improve, and to be a leader.

Dream who is very smug and tries to appear chill, but spent way too many late nights studying and working on extra credit to achieve his high scores.

Who, because of his high grades, social skills, and attitude, became a prefect in his third year--the youngest to be given this role

Slytherin Dream who is the star seeker and Captain of their Quidditch Team

He is speed.

Dream who can be found usually by the Quidditch Pitch training.

He would be a great chaser, but he loves the speed and challenge of being a seeker.

Dream who loves to show off and does special tricks on the field that he has practiced for so many hours secretly

And gets a bit pouty if his friends aren't the ones cheering the loudest at his Quidditch Games

"Are you still being a big baby?"

"..."

"Oh come on, Dream. What was I supposed to do?

"You were supposed to cheer for me, George!"

"You were against Ravenclaw! I'm supposed to root for my own house."

Dream who, because of his family lineage and status, feels a lot of pressure to be the best

There were so many nights where he questioned whether this need to be the best is inherently his or from his parents

Which is why he likes being around his friends George, Sapnap, Bad, Karl, and Quackity

With them, he's not the Minister's son, or a dignified pureblood, or a Slytherin prefect. He's just Dream who is confident and flirty and dorky and laughs the hardest out of all of them.

Dream who loves a good challenge and always tries to be ahead of his studies

He's great all at subjects (except for Divination because he thinks its absolute garbage), but his favorite is Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Dream who is great at Potions as well and would sometimes try and sneak some potions away.

He does have a soft spot for Care of Magical Creatures, and his favorite creature is a dragon.

Slytherin Dream who's fighting for the spot of Head of the Dueling Club against Techno. He's one of the top duelers in his year and actively participates in club activities and matches.

Who is chill enough to agree with Tubbo on the existence of some made-up creature and keep the bit going, but passionate enough to start debating with Bad on the morality of using certain spells in Charms class.

Dream who plans to become a Minister of Magic just like his mother

Although some part of him just wants to be an auror and join George, Sapnap, and Bad

Or maybe a Quidditch Player. Or maybe all three.

A lot of First Years look up to him because of his status and because he's so nice to younger wizards.

Because he remembers clearly how much of an absolute wreck he was on the way to Hogwarts. But when a certain upperclassman Ravenclaw joined him in his compartment and made him feel at ease, he knew that he had to do his best to make sure no First Year goes through that.

Dream who has a special spot on the Grounds under a tree where him, George, Sapnap, Bad, Quackity, and Karl hang out frequently.

Students have called it the DTree for giggles.

Dream who wears the Slytherin colors with pride and incorporates it into his casual clothes

And although he likes his wizarding clothes, he loves to wear the green muggle hoodies that George and Bad gifted him for Christmas

Dream who has a parrot instead of an owl to deliver his letters because why not

Who has a lighthearted competition with Tommy from Gryffindor for the position of best seeker in Hogwarts

But he will always train with Tommy if the boy asks for help

Dream who sometimes goes to George's or Sapnap's for Christmas and holidays

Even though he loves his parents and spending time at home, he actually prefers Christmas with his friends. He can't stand another fancy Christmas party at home where people only care about his achievements and not him.

Dream who always helps out anyone in need without a price or condition

Who, as a Slytherin Prefect and future Head Boy, is a tiny bit biased towards his friends and would let them get away with more stuff than others

His professors try to turn a blind eye on this because they don’t want to get in the way of his path to becoming Head Boy, and most of the things that they do are harmless anyway.

“Quackity, why are you carrying a box of full of fireworks?”

“Uh, just a uhm...it’s none of your business?”

“...okay. Just make sure to take the far right corridor so no one spots you, and if that’s a business, owl me a portion of your profits.”

Dream who has won the Quidditch Cup a couple of times

People always wonder how he’s able to stay on top of his class while being the Quidditch Captain and practicing dueling regularly.

The answer is a secret time-turner that he asked his parents for.

Slytherin Dream who is known to successfully sweet-talk even the strictest professors into either overlooking something his housemate did or giving him a favor

Boy has a silver tongue developed by years of being around schmoozing adults and he knows how to use it

Dream who sits in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor table at every meal just to talk to his friends

He will challenge anyone to a duel if they talk negatively about any of his friends, especially George. Even if they so much as look at him wrong. 

Because he’s loyal to his friend to the very end.

He even buys out the sweets cart for his friends and gives lavish gifts just because

Dream who has been offered to try out professional Quidditch teams such as Montrose Magpies and Chudley Cannons after Hogwarts

He’s still debating about doing it or not. It’s not every day that you get offered an opportunity like that.

Dream who can be seen flying multiple paper cranes with secret notes at night and in between classes just so he can continue talking to his friends when they’re far away. 

He even has portkeys that transports him to his friends’ houses. The feeling of traveling using those things was definitely uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t hesitate to use one if needed.

Slytherin Dream, you guys!

A/N: And here's my headcannon for Slytherin Dream! As always, if you have any additional headcannons or if you have any suggestions for the other dsmp charcaters, hit me up in my ask box! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Also, please click on “Masterlist” below to see other hcs that I’ve made.

Masterlist 

[redhoodssweetheart]

Still Star-Crossed Part Five

Sequel to Star-Crossed Lovers, please read Sad Ending Version Two for this to make sense)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Requested: No

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, angst, more to be added later

Description:  Jason’s been gone for nearly two years.  Y/N has taken up the Red Hood mantle, but things are about to become complicated.

The apartment was just as she had left it, Clark and Lois had been watching over it for her while she wasn’t there.  She had decided to keep the apartment in case she ever wanted to come to Metropolis to get away.  Sometimes she needed to get away from Gotham and everything that haunted her there.  This was her safe place.  While she was here she wasn’t Y/N Y/L/N, she was Sophie Turner, former reporter for The Daily Planet.

Jason tossed his bags down on the ground, surveying the quaint apartment that she had once called home.  It looked like her, the little touches here and there of books and knick-knacks letting him know more about her.  “It’s cute,” he said after several minutes of taking it all in.  His eyes found hers and he said, “Screams you.”

She chuckled, “The plants were Clark’s idea.”

Jason had noted all the plants and asked, “Why?”

Y/N pulled a couple weapons out of her bags and deposited them at random spots around the apartment.  “When I first came here I was depressed, I had just run away from my home and Jay.  Clark of course didn’t know this.  He just knew I was sad and told me that if I didn’t want to talk to him then I should get plants and talk to them.  That taking care of something other than myself would be good therapy.”

“Did it work?”  Maybe if it had worked for her then when he made it back to his earth he would try it too.

One side of her mouth turned up, “Yeah it did.  I named them all.”  She pointed to a fern, “That’s George, then over here is Suzie, Micah, Crystal, Veronica, Jerome, Bert, and that little tree in the corner is Ernie.”

He blinked, “Did you seriously name two of your plants after Bert and Ernie?”

“Maybe I did, but you’ll never be able to prove it,” she told him as she lifted her bag and headed down the hall, “Guest room is the first door on the right.  Get settled and then we can go grab something to eat.”

Shutting the door to her bedroom she turned on her phone and was bombarded with a ton of voicemails and texts from the members of the BatFam.  

Dick:  Everything okay?  Did you manage to find Jay?

Tim: Bruce is freaking out where are the two of you????

Barbara:  Y/N, they’re having me track your phone are you heading to Metropolis

The voicemail from Bruce made her roll her eyes, “I would appreciate the heads up before you kidnap Jason and take him to an entirely new city.  Call me when you get this, I mean it Y/N.”

“I mean it, Y/N,” she said in a mocking tone, but hit the dial button.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?”  Was the first thing she heard.

“Well hello to you too, Bruce.  We made it safe and sound,” she said sarcastically.

“Y/N,” his tone was warning.

“I’m not one of your children Bruce and technically neither is Jason.  He needed to get away and recharge for a few days.  He’s been cooped up in the manor for the past couple of weeks and he needed a change of scenery.”

“Don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment.”

She bristled at his words, “He’s not a prisoner, Bruce.  He’s a person, with thoughts and feelings and a life that was suddenly disrupted because Barry decided he needed a hitchhiker.  We’ll be back in a few days unless Barry finds his earth before then.  Got it?”  She didn’t wait for an answer before hanging up and tossing her phone on her bed.  She stood in the center of her room and just breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.

That conversation was probably going to come back and bite her in the ass later, but for right now she wasn’t in Gotham under Bruce’s watchful eye.  She was in Metropolis, in her apartment, about to go to dinner with Jason.  She changed into something more comfortable and when she came out she saw Jason waiting for her, a pensive look on his face.  “Bruce yelled at you because of me, didn’t he?”

She waved off his comment, “I can handle Bruce Wayne.  He’s just pissy because I don’t fall in line the way the others do.”  He smirked and she felt her heart flutter inside her.  No, you can’t feel things for him.  He’s not yours.

“No wonder the other me liked you, you weren’t afraid of the big, bad Bat.”  He stood from the couch and offered her his hand, “All right, you know this crazy city better than I do, so lead the way, madam.”

Her hand gently slid into his and he linked their fingers together, holding her hand gently but firmly as if he were afraid of her slipping through his fingers.  She wondered if when he looked at her if he saw his Y/N.  The Y/N that was gentle and different, not hardened by the harsh realities of life as she had been the day Black Mask’s men broke into her apartment and took her before killing her boyfriend right before her eyes.

When she looked at him she did see Jason, but she was starting to notice the differences between the two.  Her Jason had been more hopeful despite the shitty hands he had been dealt in life.  Maybe he hadn’t faced quite as much loss as the Jason before her now.  He seemed to have a harsher outlook on life than hers had.  He had a few more scars as well, each one with a new story.

As they moved down the street, the sun causing the windows to glow orange in the fading light.  Y/N wondered what it would be like if Jason never went back to his earth.  And the thought of him leaving broke her heart just a little.

The Daily Planet was still a flurry of activity as it always was.  Y/N smiled as some of her former coworkers called out to her and asked her how Gotham was.  They had all learned by now that her name was Sophie Turner, but it was fun to watch people correct themselves as they spoke to her.  Clark and Lois were particularly welcoming as she hugged them tightly.  It had been some time since she had seen either of them.

“It’s so good to see you,” Lois said as she held onto her for dear life.  “I don’t like that you’re so far away now.”

Clark hugged her next, “It is weird not having you around the office every day.”

“I miss it too, I’m not going to lie,” she told them.  “And maybe one day I’ll find my way back here, but there are still things I need to accomplish in Gotham.”  And they understood that.  They knew that there were things Y/N had to do and overcome before she could ever consider leaving the city.  And now with Jason back there was a lot more on her plate.

Lois looped her arm through Y/N’s, “Let’s go get some lunch.”  She looked to Clark, “Sorry honey this is just gonna be a girl’s lunch today.”

He just smiled fondly at his fiancé, “That’s fine, the two of you have fun.  Y/N, I want to have a meal before you head home.”

Y/N gave him a two finger salute, “You got it, Clark.”

As Lois and Y/N made their way down the street to their favorite luncheon spot Lois asked, “What’s eating at you?”

Y/N looked at her friend with a quizzical look, “How did you know something was wrong?”

Lois gave her a pointed look, “I know you better than you think I do.  Plus I’m an investigative journalist, give me some credit.”

All right, she would give Lois that.  “It’s nothing major… it’s just that I get these warm fuzzy feelings when I’m around him.  Ever since we stopped being at each other’s throats and we’ve talked.  Sometimes when I stay at the manor we’ll just lie next to one and talk.  One night we held hands.  Am I crazy for having feelings for him?”

Lois pondered her friend’s question, “It isn’t just because he has Jason’s face is it?”  Lois knew everything that happened, she knew about who you were.  “Because I know how confusing this has been for you and I don’t want you to be falling for someone just because they share the face of your former love.”

“I thought that at first too,” Y/N explained.  “I told myself that he wasn’t Jason, but I don’t think that’s what this is.  He’s different from Jason, he’s his own person and you know those recurring dreams I sometimes have of my last time with Jason?”  Lois nodded her head, she had listened to Y/N cry at night after she woke up and realized that it had just been a dream.  “They have this Jason in them now.”

Lois couldn’t help the shocked expression, “Are you serious?”

She let out a long sigh, “I don’t know what to do, Lois.  He’s going to have to go back at some point, but I kind of wish that Barry never finds out which earth he’s from.”

“Oh sweetie, this isn’t going to end well.”  Lois knew that at some point Barry and his friends at Star Labs were going to find the right earth and that would only leave Y/N heartbroken when this new Jason had to leave.

“What if he was meant to be here?  What if Barry was supposed to bring him here?”  Y/N questioned, her voice laced with desperation.  “What if I failed with my Jason and he failed with his Y/N because we were supposed to find our way to one another?”

Lois gripped her hands, she had to nip this in the bud, she couldn’t watch Y/N spiral again once when she lost another Jason.  “Y/N/N, this isn’t a fairytale, this isn’t a movie.  This will only end in heartbreak if you let it continue on this path.”

Y/N felt a trail of tears sliding down her cheeks and she wiped them away, “You’re right, I know you are.”

Lois changed the subject and soon they were laughing like old times.

Y/N lied wide awake in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.  Her conversation with Lois replaying in her mind, over and over again on repeat.  She didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t deny that as each day passed her feelings for Jason grew.  How it had happened she had no idea.  There was just something that was pulling her towards him.  

A knock on her door startled her and she propped herself on her arms, “Yeah?”

Jason peeked his head inside and said, “I didn’t wake you did I?”

She shook her head, “No I can’t sleep.”  She patted the place beside her and settled back on the bed.  “What’s keeping you up?”

He settled beside her, his hands brushing hers.  “I’m thinking about a lot of things.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn his head toward her, “What will happen when I go back?”

Shocked, she jerked her head towards him, “What?”

His face took on a vulnerable look, “I just--”  He took a deep breath, “I don’t want to leave.”

Her breath caught in her throat, “Tell me why.”

Turning on his side he let his hand graze across her cheek, “Because as crazy as it sounds I’m falling for this version of you with your fire and your wit and your strength.  I just don’t want to go home to a place where I don’t belong, leaving behind the one person I’ve cared for in a long time since my wife’s death.”  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.  “Why should we suffer anymore?”

“Jason,” she said his name like it was a prayer.  “I want you to stay too.”

He pulled her closer so that their bodies were flush against one another, “I thought you’d tell me I was being crazy.  That I was only falling for you because of who you looked like.”

“I don’t think that, Jay,” she said, pulling back so that she could look at him.  “We’re not them.  I know that.  I know you know that too.”  She bit her lip, “But I can’t help but feel like this will only end in heartbreak.”

“I’ll talk to Barry,” he said.  “I’ll come up with something.”

But even as he said it both of them knew that the others would probably never allow him to stay.  This star-crossed lovers theme they seemed to be stuck in was growing tiring.  She cuddled closer to him and said, “Get some sleep, Jay.”

Neither one of them slept that night.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 5 - It Was You

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Just when Hermione thought nothing worse could plague her than her constant nightmare, she has a very different kind of dream. How is she ever going to look Ronald in the face again? All she wanted was to do well in her classes, get S.P.E.W. off the ground, and finally get a good nights sleep.

Fred continues to find himself more than amazed at the infinite facets of Hermione Granger.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: A second update this week because I like you guys so much! :) 

I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 4

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Moments fall like crimson nights Some stick to my skin tonight Take a breath and shake them off Eyes ahead, don't you wait too long

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“If I have to write one more word about the goblin rebellions, I think I might off myself.” Ron threw down his quill, ink splotching across this parchment, and let his head fall into his hands.

“Be careful. If you do, I guarantee Professor Trelawney will say she predicted it all along because Venus was in retrograde and you’re a Pisces,” Harry responded flatly, resulting in a smile from Ron.

Hermione would never admit it, but she secretly agreed with Ron. While not quite as distressed as her ginger friend, she did find the weekly essays assigned by Professor Binns tedious and incredibly lacking in challenge. Perhaps she found the whole thing tiresome because she already knew everything there was to know about the goblin rebellions, but it also didn’t help that the ghostly professor was about as exciting as an old shoe.

“Hermione…” Ron drew out her name like he had just come to an idea. Hermione, very familiar with this tone, knew exactly what his idea was.

“No,” she responded sternly, scribbling away at her own parchment about the various defense tactics utilized by the goblins.

“Pleeeaaase?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?”

She sighed. “I will edit and revise Ronald Weasley, and nothing more.”

“You’re the best, honestly.” Ron grinned and picked up his quill again, dipping it in his ink and scribbling away with renewed energy. His stupid grin made Hermione smile and roll her eyes before returning to her own essay. While she wished that Ron and Harry could just do their own work themselves, she did realize that not everyone had the discipline that she had. However, that didn’t mean she had to stop trying to get them to work harder. She knew for a fact that their potential far exceeded their marks.

They worked in silence for a while, the scratching of quill on parchment and shuffle of students walking past filling Hermione’s ears as her brain turned over, pulling out fact after fact.

In a blazing sense of pride, she finished her last sentence, tying her conclusion together perfectly, and placed her quill down on the table. At the click, both Ron and Harry looked over to her with wide eyes of disbelief.

“You’re finished already?” gaped Harry.

“I’ve barely gotten three paragraphs written. How can you possibly be finished already?!” exclaimed Ron. Hermione shushed him, glancing over at Madame Pince’s disapproving glare.

“Some of us, Ronald, utilize our time efficiently,” Hermione responded coolly as she placed her things back into her bag. She didn’t bother mentioning that she spent her last three hours in the library as opposed to their meager thirty minutes, or that she took her break after morning Transfiguration to study as well. Her eyes itched from staring at off-white pages and black script and for once she finished all her work and read ahead in all her classes. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was attending five less classes than the previous year.

There was also the small fact that she no longer slept. Nearly a month into school and she still barely slept four hours a night. When panic inducing nightmares weren’t causing her to toss and turn, she was studying. And when she wasn’t studying, she was working on her new endeavor – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, otherwise known as S.P.E.W. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup and the horrid treatment of Winky, the house elf, she knew she had to do something. This became even more clear when she found out Hogwarts was run almost entirely on house elf labor. In all her years never did she imagine that her beloved school used essentially slavery to cook and clean. It was wrong. It was barbaric. One would assume that in a world filled with magic, where one was only limited to the bounds of one’s imagination, they would be a bit more progressive. Unfortunately, though, it seemed to be the opposite. In fact, Hermione had never met a group of people so routed in their ways as the wizarding world. Of course, it would be foolish to assume that an entire world would be impermeable to prejudices when the muggle world was not.

Therefore, where all of her time was normally spent in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron or watching the Gryffindor quidditch team practice on the pitch, she now spent it nose deep in a book or attempting to recruit new S.P.E.W. members. Her absence had not gone unnoticed – in fact, it became so blatantly clear that Harry confronted her outright between Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.  

“I don’t understand Hermione, is it something I’ve done?” Harry ran a hand through his unruly locks, distress obvious on his face.

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done Harry,” Hermione picked at her nails, feeling uncomfortable.

“Was it, Ron? I’m sure whatever he said, he didn’t mean it.” Hermione ignored the grating irritation at Harry’s blind defense of Ronald.

“No, it’s not Ron.”

“Then what? Come on Hermione, you know you can tell me anything.”

Hermione looked at her best friend and sighed. His kind eyes shone from behind his round spectacles with sincerity and concern.

“I’m not avoiding you or Ron. I’m just stressed about our O.W.L.s next year—" she paused “—You can never be too prepared, and I need to do well on them.”

Harry looked at her with a confused expression, “Hermione, they’re not for another year! Are you seriously stressing over something so far away?”  

“Yes? No? I guess…I guess I’m just used to studying all the time. You know, what with the time-turner last year and all. And then of course there’s S.P.E.W. No one seems to care at all that these poor elves are being worked day and night without any pay. I mean, it’s horrendous!” Hermione half-lied, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. She wanted to be honest with Harry, but she didn’t know how. The real reason felt stupid. What was she to say? Sorry I’ve thrust myself into my work more than ever Harry; I just can’t stop having nightmares about something that happened nearly two months ago and I’m trying to distract myself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, “I get it.”

“You do?” His remark caught her off guard as she wasn’t even sure if she understood it.

“You’re an absolute swot. Don’t get me wrong, we all love that about you, but you need to learn when to relax and have some fun,” Harry finished with a grin.

“You prat—” Hermione hit his arm with the back of her book “—Don’t call me a swot. But you’re right. I need balance.”  

“And I guess as appointed Secretary of S.P.E.W., I could do a bit more for the cause.”

Hermione lit up at the words. “Really? Oh Harry, thank you so much! I’m making more buttons tonight, maybe you could help me? Then tomorrow we can try and canvas some of the other houses for new members!”

“Well, if you’re so efficient, you should be able to help me finish mine!” argued Ron desperately, bringing Hermione back to the present.

“Ronald, I told you before. I’m not doing your assignment for you. You have to learn it on your own,” she whispered.

“When am I ever going to need to know about all the goblin leaders? Besides, you like doing this sort of stuff.”

“Ronald, I said n—”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

Merlin, Hermione thought at the sound of unified voices. Rolling her eyes, she turned to see Fred and George standing behind her.

“Hey Fred, hey George,” Harry greeted them cheerfully, placing his quill down – happy for an excuse to stop working.

“Hullo Harry,” they responded in unison.

“Any progress on entering our names for the tournament?” Ron asked expectantly. Much to Hermione’s disproval, Fred and George promised him a try at whatever they whipped up as soon as they knew it was successful, and Ron had not stopped talking about it.

“We’re nearly there,” George grinned.

“So, we’ll know in about two days whether it works or not,” said Fred, leaning against a bookshelf casually. Two days? Hermione thought with alarm. Was it really the 29th of October already? That meant the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, the other competing schools, were to arrive tomorrow evening! She needed to go back to her dormitory and rework her schedule. She had no room to pencil in excitement and new student arrival that week. She opened her planner to begin revising.

“How confident are you that it’ll work?” asked Ron, leaning forward in excitement.

“Extremely,” the twins answered.

Hermione let out an indecent snort and rolled her eyes again. Fools.

“Something you’d like to add Granger?” asked George, looking over at her.

“Yes, hullo to you also. So nice of you to acknowledge us in a friendly manner,” accused Fred sarcastically.

“I think some lessons are best learned through experience, rather than lecture,” said Hermione, carefully picking her words before tucking her planner into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But you love to lecture us, are you sure you aren’t raring to tell us how wrong we are?” asked Fred, fluttering his eyelashes sweetly.

Hermione gave a short laugh, “Please. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“A lost cause? You hear that Georgie? We’re a lost cause.”

“I don’t know…sounds to me like she’s just afraid of a challenge Freddie.”

“It’s not a challenge if all I’m doing is slowly melting my brain trying to reason with the pair of you,” scoffed Hermione.

“Oh, I can melt your brain just fine, if that’s what you’d like,” stated Fred, stepping forward cockily.

“Is your wit really so primitive that you have to resort to sexual innuendo all the time?” Hermione asked, her heart rate picking up in her chest as their conversation turned more heated.

“Sexual innuendo? I have no idea what you’re referring to Granger. I was merely saying I might be smarter than you think. Are you sure you aren’t projecting a bit there?”

“You’re a child,” Hermione bit back, feathers ruffled that Fred seemed to be over his initial shock response to her comebacks and instead was meeting her beat for beat. His eyes held a shine to them as he smiled down at her in excitement.

“Resorting to name-calling now? I thought higher of you,” sighed Fred, tapping the end of her nose condescendingly. Hermione batted his hand away, feeling her hair begin to crackle. She was getting too upset. She needed to calm down and show him that she was better than him.

Taking a small, calming breath, she straightened her posture before replying, “That doesn’t surprise me Frederick. I’m sure it’s easy to think highly of me when your potential is so low.”

Hermione took that moment to make her exit. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the library, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. A warm flush covered her face and bled down her neck as she scurried through the halls. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Despite his ample fight, she felt quite confident that she won the battle. His lack of biting response as she left, supported as much. Departing before he could speak might have been a cheap way to go about it, but she reasoned there was no clean way to fight when it came to the Weasley twins. A small giggle bubbled up in her chest as she replayed the conversation in her head. Invigorated by the whole event, she ran the rest of the way to the Gryffindor tower. Rounding corners and sprinting up staircases, exhaustion filled her small frame by the time she came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her lungs ached from the exercise and her shoulder and back ached from the heavy books weighing her bag down. She gasped the password through pants and entered as she tried to catch her breath. Fellow Gryffindors cast odd looks in her direction as she scurried up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but she didn’t care. Her room was empty and for that she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was a forced conversation with Lavender or Pavarti. Perhaps the physical exertion would act as a sleeping agent and she would finally fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. Best to ride the wave and go to bed while I’m still tired¸ she thought. Sluggishly, she changed out of her uniform and crawled into bed. Nagging thoughts tugged at the back of her mind, telling her to brush her teeth, but the exhaustion in her body told her to sleep. Ultimately her body won, and sleep took over.

Hermione’s mind swam the next day as she sat in double potions with the Slytherins. It was nearing the end of class and Professor Snape was taking the time to explain to them why their potions had been improperly brewed in one way or another. Hermione’s hadn’t of course, but that didn’t stop him from berating her for being an ‘insufferable little know-it-all’, and then accusing her of helping any student that didn’t manage to burn a hole in their cauldrons. She diligently took notes as Snape droned on and on, but her mind failed to connect to the words she was writing down on the parchment. All thoughts and worries were currently focused on an embarrassing personal crisis. The dream.

While Hermione thought nightmares were the worst thing, she could possibly endure in her sleeping state, she had to admit she had been wrong. No, apparently there was something much, much worse stewing in her brain waiting for vulnerable unconsciousness to leap out and take form.

She had been in the library, wandering through the sections of towering shelves when she appeared in a section, she was unfamiliar with. Turning a corner her eyes grew wide at the sight of two older students locked in an intimate embrace. Her heart started to race, and her breathing began to pick up as she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to leave but found herself unable to move – her feet glued to the floor. That’s when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a pair of lips kissing up her neck. Her hands went up, one grabbing at the fingers that dug roughly into her flesh and the other threading itself through long thick hair. She turned her head only to see that the hair between her fingers was a brilliant shade of ginger. The realization was so shocking to her that she awoke from her dream, sitting ramrod straight – heart pounding, sweat-slicked, and breathing heavily.

Her face blushed just thinking about it. Turning her head casually to the right, she spied one of her best friends. Ronald Weasley sat next to Harry, slumped forward in his seat, head resting in his hand. His long hair hung way past his eyes, concealing them completely. Hermione, knowing Ron, would bet on her life that they were closed, and he was verging on sleep. She knew he wasn’t fully asleep though, because if he were there would be loud snores coming from his direction. Him. He was the one her mind decided to fantasize about. Why? She studied him, her eyes tracing the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t bad looking; she always quite liked his hair and pale complexion. He had a kind heart and could be quite charming when he wanted to be, the problem was that rarely did he want to be. He could be quite cruel and insensitive without knowing it, and he didn’t care for much other than Quidditch. Is that really what she wanted in a partner? Hermione scoffed at her mental ramblings. Here she was, wondering if Ronald Weasley were her potential first love without considering that he would probably never be interested in her. After all, her hair was a bushy, frizzy mess, her teeth were far too big for her mouth, and her otherwise plain features left much to be desired. Not to mention her overall swotty personality. Still, hadn’t he told her that she was ‘the best’? And he certainly didn’t mind being her friend. What if he did like her?

“Miss Granger, is there something on Mr. Weasley’s face that’s so interesting that you cannot be bothered to pay attention?” The sound of Professor Snape’s voice brought Hermione out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find all eyes on her. The Slytherins snickered around her, and Ron and Harry looked at her in surprise. Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“No Professor, my apologies,” she mumbled, looking down at her notes.

“Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger’s lack of interest. Class dismissed,” snipped Professor Snape as he turned towards his office. Hermione packed her bag and exited the classroom as quickly as possible.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, him and Ron catching up to her with ease.

“Sorry guys, I got lost in thought and didn’t realize where I was looking. I guess I should have been paying attention,” Hermione stammered, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem Hermione. Snape’s a git and no one blames you. I was almost asleep near the end there too,” Ron piped in with a friendly smile. Hermione felt her stomach flip.

“Thanks Ronald.” She smiled back.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of love birds, boys,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he came up beside them. “When’s the wedding? I’m sure it’ll be just lovely, or at least as lovely as five knuts’ll get you.”

Hermione scowled at the silver-hair bully, with all his sharp pointed features and disgustingly greasy demeanor, as he laughed along with his goons. She rolled her eyes and grabbed both Harry and Ron by the arm, leading them on towards the front of the castle. Ridiculous. That’s what she was being. It was ridiculous to waste her time worrying about some absurd dream when that’s all it was – a dream. Besides, she didn’t know for certain it was Ron who she dreamed about. There were plenty of red heads in the world.

Outside the main entrance they found Ginny next to Neville in a crowd of students.

“Did we miss anything?” asked Ron, looking excitedly about.

“Nothing yet, you’ve made it just in time I think!” Ginny exclaimed in glee. The castle was in a fit of excitement. Even the Slytherins, who didn’t find much joy in anything school related, seemed to be chomping at the bit for their guests to arrive and the Triwizard Tournament to finally take off. Hermione, too, was excited but more at the thought of getting to meet students from other magical schools. She had taken the liberty of reading as much as she could on the histories of both Durmstrang and Beauxbaton and was informing Ginny on their key similarities and differences when several gasps and shouts erupted around them.

“Look!” Ginny yelled, pointing up at the sky above them. Hermione followed her finger upwards to see a large horse-drawn carriage flying through the clouds, pulled by a dozen flying horses the size of elephants. She watched as they soared through the air, their wings pumping up and down in synchronization. The size of the horses was comparable to what they were pulling, for as it got closer, Hermione estimated the carriage to be at least twice the size of her home back in Hampstead. The carriage floated prettily, a pale cream embellished with pastel blue designs and gold trim. Obviously of French provincial style, she concluded that this was clearly the Beauxbaton students. So enthralled by the ornate and bordering ostentatious carriage and the horses pulling it, Hermione failed to notice heads turning and mouths gaping at the Black Lake. In fact, her gaze only broke away from the magnificent beasts when Ron elbowed her from behind. She turned to scold him, but caught her tongue when she noticed a daunting, black ship floating on the lake. It rocked back and forth, sending large waves crashing away from it on the usually glass-smooth surface. Hermione thought it very much resembled what happened when you dropped a large rock into a pond and wondered how it got there. Someone was sure to tell her later – there were plenty of witnesses.

“Way to make an entrance!” exclaimed Ron, followed by loud whoops and cheers as he clapped.

“A bit flashy, if you ask me,” Pansy Parkinson sniffed from a nearby group of Slytherins.

“She’s one to talk,” Hermione mumbled under her breath.

“Hah!” a boisterous laugh sounded behind her. Hermione swiveled and caught a pair of hazel eyes looking at her.

Fred leaned towards her. “Nice one Granger,” he complimented over the babble of conversation around them. His warm breath fell on her neck, all too reminiscent of her dream. Her body jerked to attention, heat creeping up her face before she smiled politely and turned away from the older boy.

“They’re coming up to the entrance!” Seamus Finnigan announced. Hermione thanked Merlin for the distraction and looked down the path leading to the front of the castle. Sure enough, there was a large group of individuals walking towards them. As they neared, the Hogwarts students cheered and applauded them, trying to welcome the foreign students like Professor Dumbledore advised. Hermione clapped softly as the first students approached. A tall and unsettling man led the group. His dark hair, speckled with bits of silver, sat heavy on his head, slicked back from his angular face. The sharp features and the long, grey goatee gave him an ominous appearance fueled even further by the deep scowl set into his mouth and piercing black eyes. He wore midnight black robes paired with a brilliantly white fur pelt over his shoulders. Igor Karkaroff. Headmaster of Durmstrang. The students behind him wore robes of deep crimson, the color sharing an eerie resemblance to the color of blood. Like their headmaster, they too donned thick furs to fight the crisp cold, only theirs held a rich color of brown. They looked incredibly warm. Subconsciously, Hermione pulled her wool robes closer around her as a strong breeze blew around them.

“Bloody hell! It’s him!” Ron shouted, his voice taking on a hysterical tone.

“Who?” asked Harry.

“Victor Krum! It’s Victor Krum! Right there in the front!” Ron pushed himself forward and past Hermione to get a better look at the famous Quidditch player coming towards them. With Ron’s tall figure in front of her, she failed to confirm whether the Bulgarian seeker truly lead the group of Durmstrang students. Ron’s excitement only increased as the visiting students got closer and then passed them into the castle.

“Ronald! I can’t see!” Hermione pounded lightly on Ron’s back with her fists until he snapped out of his star struck trance. The ginger boy turned around, a sheepish grin across his face.

“Sorry about that Hermione. Here.” Awkwardly, Ron shifted over and led Hermione to the front by her waist. For the second time that afternoon a Weasley boy reminded her of her dream, Ron’s touch all too like the arms that held her sensually the night before. She took a small step forward, putting distance between herself and Ron’s grasp. The students from Beauxbaton were the next to make their way down the path. The crowd gawked at the elegant French students as they walked poised and beautiful down the cobblestone in their blue silk uniforms. Hermione, on the other hand couldn’t help but find them annoying. They shivered and chattered their teeth in such an exaggerated manner and looked up at the castle with such disgust and judgement that she immediately took a disliking to them.

“For Merlin’s sake! It’s not that cold,” Hermione groaned as the boys and girls huddled together for warmth. Hermione thought them incredibly rude and found it idiotic that they did not think to wear warmer robes. However, someone in their party evidently had sense, as their headmistress sauntered up the path in a heavy shawl, completely unbothered by the cold. Although, Hermione wasn’t sure anything could bother the woman as she stood twelve feet tall and sturdy. A neutral expression, bored some might even call it, covered her face and despite her size, she too glided gracefully across the ground. As they walked past, Hermione could hear little bits and pieces of snide remarks from the Beauxbaton students. Apparently, they thought Hogwarts would be much nicer than it was. Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She assumed that as guests, they would have much better manners.

“Honestly, can you believe that rubbish?” Hermione exclaimed, turning to Ron and Harry behind her. Instead of meeting commiserating sentiments like she expected, the pair continued to stare at the Beauxbaton students until they disappeared completely into the castle. Their mouths hung open widely, making them look quite dumb, and Hermione turned to Ginny with a questioning look. Ginny shrugged, also confused over her brother and Harry’s behavior.

Hermione waved her hand in front of the pairs’ faces.

“Hullo! Are you two listening to me?” she asked, frowning.

“Bloody hell, did you see her?” Ron asked, in more of a trance than when he saw Krum.

“Yeah…” Harry said dreamily.

“See who?” Hermione questioned. What was wrong with them? They hadn’t acted like this since…oh goodness. Not since the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Ahhhh it seems our poor baby brother has fallen victim,” George stated woefully, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She looked up at him and then back down at his hand.

“Why are you fine?” she asked, shrugging off his hand.

“Oh, Alicia and Angelina were sure to snap us out of it,” Fred stated, then placing his hand on her shoulder.

“And how exactly did they do that?” She raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his hand as well.

“Like this!” the twins shouted before reeling back and smacking both Harry and Ron in the back of the head. The two fourth year Gryffindors yelled out in pain, grasping at their heads before spinning around and glaring at Fred and George.

“What the hell was that for?!” Harry barked.

“You were drooling mates,” George smirked.

“And it’s time to go back in,” Fred pointed behind them at the entrance to the castle where most of the students were filing through already.

They followed the crowd back into the castle and through the corridor into the Great Hall. It seemed the Durmstrang students took a special liking to the Slytherins as almost all of them were seated at their table. The Beauxbaton students seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table, much to Ronald’s disdain. And it was Ronald’s unhappiness that also fueled Hermione’s sore mood as well. Silently she ate her dinner and watched as Ron fawned and drooled and ogled the girls from Beauxbaton for the entirety of the night. When a particularly pretty one approached their table asking him for the bouillabaisse, Ron was left speechless.

“Honestly, Ronald. She’s just a girl. You know, like every other girl in this school. Including myself,” Hermione tried to reason with him.

Eyes still trained on the French beauty, Ron responded with incredulity, “That’s ridiculous Hermione. She’s no girl. That right there is a woman. Leagues above any girl here at Hogwarts.”

A woman? What did that even mean? She was only a few years older than Hermione. She didn’t even look that much older. Hermione turned her attention back to the food on her plate and found that she had lost her appetite. So instead, she pulled a book from her bag and buried herself behind it, slowly sinking lower into her seat as the night went on. She missed the moment they revealed the cup that competitors were to put their name in, too engrossed in the words on the page, and when dinner was over, she was the first to leave the Great Hall. Only, she didn’t head straight for the common room like she usually did. Instead, her feet carried her through the castle until she found herself in the library once again. As she seated herself in her favorite corner, she was reminded of something Professor Trelawney had said her third year. ‘Oh you may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as an old maid’s, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.’

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Another potion successfully made brother.” Fred grinned, stretching the muscles in his neck and back.

Fred and George Weasley currently sat in an abandoned classroom as they finished the answer to all their problems. Well past curfew, the pair had just filled two vials with the clear aging potion and capped them triumphantly.

“I’d say that one was particularly easy, wouldn’t you?” George replied, standing up.

“As easy as beating Percy in a game of wits.”

“Off to bed then?”

“Actually, I think I may pop down to the kitchen and grab myself a bite to eat. Clean up here?” Fred asked, motioning around the room. The classroom was their own personal haven; tucked away in an old corner of the castle that few ventured it was their go-to space for all their inventing and brewing needs. It was only thanks to their time with the Marauder’s Map that they knew about it.

“Yeah. See you in the morning Freddie.” George waved goodbye as Fred exited the classroom and headed down towards the kitchens. The low light of the hallway candles washed the castle in a soft glow that contrasted with the icy chill of nighttime. The castle was always cold at night. However, the frigid temperature didn’t bother Fred Weasley as much as usual that night. He was far too excited to be bothered by much of anything, really. Tomorrow was the big day. They were going to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire, and it was going to be glorious. Fred had no idea if one of them would even be picked to compete, but just the idea of winning the prize money was enough to keep a spring in his step and a surge of determination coursing through his veins.

He kept quiet as he tip-toed through the halls, just in case Filch was lurking around corners. Turning down the last corridor he was surprised to see, not the scraggly old Mr. Filch, but the familiar figure of a bushy-haired fourth year. Hermione Granger stood in front of a picture on the wall, the torches in front of her illuminating her and making her hair glow like an ethereal halo.

“Hermione?”

She spun around, glancing back and forth, looking like a frightened animal. Fred stepped closer, out of the shadows so she could see him more clearly. He watched her relax, her shoulders dropping from her ears and slumping forward. She laughed lightly.

“Merlin’s beard, Frederick! You scared me!” Hermione exclaimed with an edge of relief in her voice.

“Shhhh!” Fred hushed her, rushing forward, and covering her mouth with his hand. “Do you want to wake the whole castle with your yelling or just Filch in particular?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. She stiffened beneath him, the two of them silently listening for any signs of Filch or his wretched cat, Mrs. Norris. When Fred failed to hear anything, he let out a breath of relief and looked down at the little witch in his arms. Suddenly he was awash with the memory of the last time the two of them had been that close. The night in the forest when they were hiding for their lives. He removed his hand and stepped back.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. I was coming back from the library and decided to go for a bit of a walk,” whispered Hermione, looking up at him under the glowing light of the torches. “How are we going to get back to the tower without being seen?”  

“Simple. I know a shortcut. Come on.” Fred grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her along with him down the corridor. Her hand was small and cold but fit surprisingly well in his own. His stomach growled, and mournfully he thought of the late-night snack he originally set out to get. He continued down the halls at a quick pace until they reached the tapestry he had been looking for. Tapping his wand five times at its center, he pulled back the tapestry to reveal a hidden passageway. He let go of Hermione’s hand and the two slipped behind the tapestry, letting it fall back into place behind them.

“Lumos,” Fred spoke softly, lighting the dark space with the tip of his wand.

“Amazing, this must be one of the secret passageways on the Marauders’ Map,” marveled Hermione.

They made their way down the narrow passage, taking up a leisurely pace, not feeling the pressure of getting caught by Filch or his cat. The shuffling of their feet on the cold stone filled the silent space around them as they climbed up stairways and weaved around corners. As they walked, a nagging thought pricked at the back of Fred’s mind until he couldn’t help but voice it.

“So, walks about the castle past curfew. I didn’t take you for the type Granger,” Fred teased. Hermione let out a loud and vulgar scoff. Fred turned, looking down at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The young witch lifted her chin in indignation, “What sort of type did you take me for?”

Fred shrugged, “You know, the good girl type. Doesn’t get into trouble. Doesn’t break rules. Perfect Prefect material.”

“I’ll have you know I break plenty of rules.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s Harry or Ron’s idea,” pressed Fred, hoping to goad her into revealing something he didn’t already know.

“That’s not true!” She turned her head and glared at him.

“No, don’t believe it.” Fred shook his head.

“Well, believe it because it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah, tell me one rule that you’ve broken that wasn’t Harry or Ron’s idea.” He glanced at the younger witch out of the corner of his eye. Her brows were scrunched together, her pink lips pouting as she thought. Then her face opened in excitement, eyebrows lifting and mouth opening, revealing her large front teeth below her upper lip.

“In first year, it was my idea for Harry to sneak into the restricted section of the library over Christmas holiday,” she stated proudly.

“That doesn’t count! You only thought of the idea; you made Harry do all the dirty work,” countered Fred.

“Alright, in second year I brewed Polyjuice in the girl’s lavatory and nicked lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s office to do it,” said Hermione triumphantly as they reached the end of the passageway, coming out the other side right next to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione spun around, crossing her arms in front of her as she waited for his response.

“Who’d have thought that the Hermione Granger was such a delinquent,” praised Fred, grinning widely. He was truly impressed. He had no idea that the bright little witch had it in her to steal from a teacher.

Hermione sniffed haughtily. “That’ll teach you to underestimate me, Frederick Weasley,” she stated coolly, but her golden brown eyes shown with flee, like he had just given her the best compliment in the world. He then watched in awe as she turned around, mutter the password, and disappeared through the portrait into Gryffindor tower.

“It sure will Granger, it sure will.”

Chapter 6 >>

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[365days365movies]

January 14, 2021: GoldenEye (1995) (Part 1)

He’s suave. He’s sophisticated. He’s spy. He’s...

The late, great Sean Connery. 

Ignoring the less then savory aspects of his personality (AKA the Barbara Walters interview...both of them), Connery is undoubtedly the most famous Scottish actor of all time. Sorry, Whovians, I love David Tennant, too. But Connery’s got him beat. He’s been in so many iconic films and roles, his influence is undeniable. But most famous of all is his turn as Agent 007, the man himself, James Bond.

I’ve seen all of Connery’s original Bond films (not counting Never Say Never Again), and my favorite is Goldfinger, in case you were wondering. But outside of that...I haven’t seen any Bond movies. Since him, the character’s been played by David Niven, George Lazenby (now THAT’S an interesting story, lemme tell you), Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, and the two I’ll be looking at this month: Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig.

I’ll be looking at Brosnan tomorrow, in Casino Royale. But today, I’m looking at arguably the third most-famous Bond, Pierce Brosnan, in one of the most famous modern Bond movies, GoldenEye.

Also, yeah, never played the game I KNOW IT WAS A ‘90S CLASSIC I WASN’T ALLOWED TO HAVE VIDEO GAMES. 

So, what to expect from a Bond film? Well, I’ve got a checklist here, hold on...HERE we go:

Gadgets

Girls

Good-for-Nothings

...Good music?

I’m feeling a little alliterative of late. But, yeah, looking for the Bond Girl, looking for cool gadgets, looking for dastardly villains, and listening for the theme song for the film. Got my list set, and expectations are set to Connery levels. Let’s do this, shall we?

Recap

We start at a dam in Russia. Bond James Bond (Pierce Brosnan) is infiltrating the dam, and we get our gadgets checked off right away, as he whips out an acetylene torch. He barges in on a guy in the bathroom (rude, and awkward), then meets up with Alec, AKA Agent 006 (Sean “he dies, he’s the villain, or he’s the villain who dies” Bean).

Yeah, calling it now, Alec here’s gonna die, or he’s the villain, or he’s the villain who’s gonna die. It’s Sean Bean. More importantly, it’s Sean Bean in the ‘90s. There are very few options for him. Anyway, the Russians try to stop them from blowing up the plant, and...well, Alec’s being held hostage. Yyyyyyup. And he gets shot?

I don’t know how...but I’m betting that he’s still the villain. He’s Sean Bean. C’mon. He doesn’t die this early in a movie.

The unambiguously evil Russian general (hey, the Cold War just ended) almost get Bond, but he escapes in typical Bond fashion. They chase after him, and Bond chases an airplane. How, do you ask? I WILL FUCKING SHOW YOU HOW.

WHAT??? WHAT??? Physics just broke, and Issac Newton just tunneled to China. And then the facility blows up.

And THEN the opening begins. Let’s hear the Bond song and check out the opening.

...WOW. Just...I mean...OK, so Bond songs. From the first Bond movie, Dr. No, up until the one before this one, Licence to Kill, the intros were designed and directed by Maurice Binder. They were all composed of silhouetted women, often against colorful backgrounds, and almost always nude or skimpily dressed. There would often be themes or objects seen in the film itself, and sometimes actual scenes, often projected onto women themselves. They all definitely had a similar feel and style. And then, Binder sadly passed away in 1991.

Enter Daniel Kleinman. This is Kleinman’s first take, and this is also the first movie to use CGI. While it’s not terribly obvious or gaudy in the film proper, Kleinman uses this new technology to make this intro SURREAL AS HELL. It expresses the film’s connection to the fall of Soviet Russia, and a post-Cold War society. And is does that in a pretty obvious, if abstract and dramatic, manner. And honestly, on retospect...yeah. It definitely works. Even the song, which is sung by Tina Turner and written by Bono (yes, really), works well by itself, and in my opinion, better when with the actual film. So, crazy and weird as this sequence it...kinda grew on me. I like it! Weird, but I like it a lot.

We cut to nine years later, with Bond taking a woman on a drive/race on a cliffside highway with...well, there’s our Bond girl! This is Famke Jannsen, playing...Xenia Onatopp.

Yes. Really. Oh boy. We aren’t being even slightly subtle about this, huh.

The woman in the car demands him to stop, and they make out, as one would expect. That night, he heads to a party, as James Bond does. At the party, James enters a card game with Xenia. Again...as James Bond does. This is immediately followed by him hitting on Xenia, ordering a vodka martini (shaken not stirred), introducing himself as “Bond, James Bond,” commenting on the Bond Girl’s name, and saying suave shit. 

HOLY SHIT THAT SENTENCE ALONE HAPPENED WITHIN 1 MINUTE OF SCREEN TIME

Look, movie, when you got a Bond...you gotta space that shit out. Ration it a little bit, not front load all of it WITHIN FIVE MINUTES AFTER THE OPENING’S FINISHED. It’s like giving someone a beer, and then they EAT THE FRIDGE.

Jesus. OK, Miss Moneypenny (Samantha...Bond, that’s neat!) gives Bond some information, tells him not to have sex with Xenia until they tell him to (yes, really), and then say’s that she trusts he’ll say…”On-a-Topp of things.”

YES. REALLY.

Speaking of Xenia, she’s with an Admiral, having the most TERRIFYING sex I’ve ever seen in a movie. And I’m legit not sure if he survived after it. Like, real talk, it was...frightening. Somebody steals his ID, real nonchalant like, and we cut to the next morning, after his maybe-death? James makes it onto the yacht the next morning (they were on a yacht, by the way), planning on getting some information.

Meanwhile, the ID is used by...someone...to get into a leader of global military leaders. Pretty sure the Admiral got Kegel’d to death; not even joking, it’s a real possibility, and I am shaken AND stirred. And so was the Admiral.

See? Toldja.

Looks like their unveiling a new tactical helicopter, the Tiger. However, the pilots are shot by Xenia and someone else, and they take their place, stealing the helicopter. Bond tries to stop it...even though there’s literally no way he could’ve known they were going to steal the helicopter? I mean, I guess you could assume that, but...I dunno, it’s a stretch.

Meanwhile, in Siberia, a group of radar analysts or some such, where we meet Boris (Alan Cumming, who I feel like I never see play an actual Welsh person...or in a good movie) and Natalya (Izabella Scorupco). Boris is a thirsty computer nerd who hacks the US government for fun (because ‘90s nerds in movies were basically only this), and Natalya puts up with him.

The Tiger helicopter arrives, carrying Xenia and the General (Gottfried John, by the way) from the dam 9 years ago. They show up here, seeking something. Xenia shoots up the place, killing everybody except Natalya (and maybe Boris, since we didn’t see him die). Xenia, by the way, appears to be a straight sadist, enjoying inflicting pain on unsuspecting victims. The two leave, getting what they came for.

London! James Bond returns to MI6 headquarters, and meets his secretary Miss Moneypenny, who calls him the fuck OUT. She is my favorite character now.

MI6 has intercepted a distress call from the station in Siberia, and found the helicopter. The mission is heard by both Bond and M (Dame Judi Dench herself, pre-Cats). Meanwhile, the base in Siberia is hit an electromagnetic pulse originating from an orbiting satellite, which causes EVERYTHING to explode. Pretty sure that’s not what EMPs do, but why not? Suspension of disbelief. 

Natalya’s still alive in there, by the way. And she’s not having a great day. You know those work days, right? Your coworkers are all dead, your equipment and office space explode, you’re trapped in a burning building, two American jets get hit by an EMP and crash into the building. Mondays, amirite?

And in case literally everything didn’t make it clear by now, this is a Cold War movie, taking place after the Cold War was concluded. See, the McGuffin for this film (it’s a Bond film, it’s kind of a requirement) is Project GoldenEye, a nuclear weapon meant to detonate in the upper atmosphere, creating an EMP. The weapon was developed during the Cold War, and has now been stolen by the Janus Crime Syndicate, whose heads include Xenia Onatopp. General Ourmunov is also suspected to be a part of it.

This information all comes out during an exposition speech, as is standard for a Bond movie. But after that speech...OH...OH, it’s so good. See, up until now, Miss Moneypenny was really the only major female recurring supporting character in Bond’s life. But we’ve flipped the script, having M played by Dame Judi Dench. And lemme tell ya...what follows is Dench REAMING BOND THE FUCK OUT. And it’s glorious.

Mind changed, M is now my favorite character. She tells him what’s what, then gives him his mission: get GoldenEye back.

We finally get our big gadgets showcase, as we see...Q (Desmond Llewelyn)! First introduced in From Russia With Love in 1963, Q is the MI6’s spy gadget man, and has been played by Llewelyn since then! He’s the only remaining cast member from the original Connery films, and it’s awesome to see him here! He’s been in more James Bond movies than anyone else, at 17. Sadly, he died in 1999, but it’s still cool to see him! We get cool gadgets, of course, including a pen grenade, a car with missiles behind the headlights, a leather belt with a grapple, a LOT of shit in the background, and a missile hidden in a leg cast and wheelchair. This is such a funny sequence, and absolutely the best scene in the movie so far, holy shit. More of THAT, please.

Meanwhile, in St. Petersburg, the General finds out that Natalya is alive, as well as Boris being missing. Calling it now, he’s been taken by Janus, or he’s working with them. Bond arrives and meets up with CIA Agent Jack Wade (Joe Don Baker), whom I also really like. He’s had enough of Bond’s spy bullshit, and he cuts to the point. He also identifies himself by showing a rose tattoo with the name of his ex-wife, Muffy. Yes, really.

Bond meets up with a Russian gangster whom he has a...pre-existing relationship with. Apparently, he shot him in the knee, then slept with his wife. You stay classy, Jimmy. You stay classy. This man is Valentin Zukovsky (Robbie Coltrane), an ex-KGB agent and current gang leader. He tells him that the head of Janus is descended from Cossacks, a group of Russians that worked for the Nazis in World War II.

Natalya finds a way to contact Boris over the internet, who tells her to trust no one, and sets up a meeting with her at a church. This is, of course, a trap, as Boris is working with Janus. Xenia, for her part as a Bond Girl, does her duty and finds James to have sex with. Xenia, it should be noted, is ABSOLUTELY THE FREAKIEST of the Bond Girls. Like, Goddamn is she kinky, you have no idea. Like...is this sex or a fight scene? The film genuinely can’t decide.

Bond forces Xenia to take him to the head of Janus, who’s in a Soviet statuary of some kind. And who’s waiting there but…

Yup. Called it.

See you (and Sean “died, but didn’t die, and is a villain, but is still gonna die” Bean) in Part 2!

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Dr. George Huang) Karma

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Slice of Life, Drama, Crime ☁

Word Count: 1,907 ☁

Pairing: Reader, Huang ☁

World: Law & Order: SVU ☁

Author’s Note: Tumblr was saying that I posted this twice so I deleted one and it turns out it was an error so now I have to reupload ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You sat the bar nursing a glass of rum on the rocks. Loud noises and the clinking of glasses filled the small room, but you weren’t really paying the other customers any mind. You never did unless there was a paycheck involved. You glanced to the left when a man sat on the stool beside you, looking tired and ragged, and aged beyond his years. After downing the rest of your drink, you rapped your knuckles on the bartop.

The bartender refilled your glass before pouring another and sliding it to the man beside you. “On the house,”

The man nodded his thanks but didn’t reach for the glass, waiting for the bartender to walk away before speaking. “I have a job for you if you’re interested.” A manilla folder hit the bartop in the small gap between the two of you.

You hummed, sliding the folder closer to you before opening it. Inside was an incident report and a photo of a man with sandy brown hair and dead, blue eyes. According to the file, his name was Duane Durnavir and he’s a gun for hire that’s been on the run for the past five years. He was recently brought back into the limelight when his prints were discovered on the dead body of the mayor’s niece.

“High profile,” you tapped the picture. “You know I don’t like cases with this much attention. It’s just begging for trouble.”

Detective Briscoe took a large swig of the alcohol before sighing. “SVU can’t handle this case. It’s above their paygrade.”

“SVU?” You glanced at him, brow raised in question. “What exactly makes this an SVU case?”

“The niece was raped.”

“Durnavir is a creep and a shit human being, but rape? It’s not his M.O.”

“I agree with you.” He sent you a look. “But SVU doesn’t share our sentiments.”

“Does it really matter?” You wondered, finishing off the drink. “No matter what they think he did or didn’t do, they’re still gonna try and catch him.”

“Exactly. I doubt they have what it takes to find him, but while they’re wasting time chasing this scumbag, the rapist is roaming free looking for his next target.”

“I’m confused.” You tapped the photo a couple of times with your index finger. “Who are you asking me to after – Durnavir or the rapist?”

“Both.”

“Both?”

He turned his body to better look at you, lowering his voice. “My gut is telling me that this rapist is related to Durnavir in some way. Find one of them and you’ll find the other.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You sat across the street, watching SVU detectives Benson and Stabler as they talked to Durnavir’s former landlady, Margarett Turner. Judging from their expressions, she wasn’t offering up any useful information. The two thanked the woman before getting into their vehicle and driving off.

Once they were out of sight, you cross the street and slipped into the alley, using the fire escape to reach the third floor. The window was cracked open, allowing you to easily slip into the apartment. When you got a look around the bedroom, your brow shot up. Every single article that so much as mentioned Durnavir’s name was crudely taped to the walls, along with a blown-up picture of his face hanging directly above the headboard.

“What a freak,” you muttered, approaching the door and listening for any signs of movement. The front door clicked as it was opened, clicking once more as it slid shut behind her. You quietly opened the door, eyes landing on the older woman as she nervously wrung her hands, muttering under her breath. “Hey, Turner.”

She froze, eyes growing wide. “Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?!”

You hummed, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m looking for Durnavir. Word on the street is that you know where he’s hiding out.”

“I don’t -”

“Cut the shit,” you snapped, quickly closing the distance between the two of you in just a couple of strides and grabbing the front of her shirt in your fist. “I ain’t no cop. I won’t just fake a smile and accept your bullshit answers.”

“Let go of me! Help! Hel -”

You punched her in the gut to shut her up before slamming her against the wall, using your arm across her throat to pin her in place. “Scream again and I’ll make sure you never utter another word. Capeesh?”

She struggled to swallow, keeping her mouth clamped firmly closed.

“Look, I’m trying to help Durnavir.” You lied smoothly. “Those cops are lookin’ for him, too, and if they find him first, he will be put to death. You want that?”

Turner’s blue eyes filled with tears at the thought, her voice low and strained. “His work will never be finished…”

‘Got ya, bitch.’ You nodded. “That’s right. I have to find him before the cops do, Margarett. We can’t let his work die here.”

She looked off to the side, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “The harbor… I followed him to the harbor.”

“I’ll make sure he knows what you’ve done here.”

Her chubby fingers clutched at my shirt. “Please! You have to help him!”

Before you could respond, the door was kicked open and detective Stabler rushed inside, gun drawn. “Police! Show us your hands!”

You clicked your tongue, holding your hands up in surrender.

Margarett looked between you and the two detectives with wide eyes. In a flash, she was screaming like a banshee as she rushed at them. You glanced at the bedroom door.

“Don’t even think about it,” Benson ordered, holding her gun on you as her partner struggled with the older woman.

You definitely considered it, but if you were taken to SVU headquarters, you’d have a chance to glance at their files. “What am I under arrest for, officer?” You wondered, not resisting as she pulled your arms behind your back, slapping the metal cuffs tightly to your skin.

“Assault,” she answered as she patted you down, pulling the switchblade from your boot. “And carrying a concealed weapon.”

“Let go of me, you fraud!!” Turner cried as she struggled against the cuffs, throwing her heavyset body against Stabler to try and knock him off-balance, but the door kept him upright.

“I think your partner needs help,” you commented, watching the pair in amusement.

Benson didn’t answer, pushing you toward the door after them.

With Turner standing directly in front of you, attempting to pull herself back into the apartment despite Stabler pulling her in the opposite direction, you saw an opportunity and took it. You lifted your foot, boot slamming into the woman’s stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs.

Benson slammed you against the wall in response. “Knock it off!”

You scoffed. “Don’t get upset because I helped your partner and you didn’t, officer.”

“It’s detective,” She waited until Turner was out of sight before forcing you out of the apartment where a squad car had pulled up to escort one of you to SVU’s headquarters.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

“What’s their deal?” Benson watched you through the one-way glass as you sat in the interrogation room, looking as cool as a cucumber.

Cragen looked up from the thin file in his hands. “Their prints don’t match any on file. Facial recognition couldn’t find a single match, either. They’re an enigma.”

“It’s like they don’t exist…”

You sat calmly in the uncomfortable metal chair, arms folded across your chest. You had been wearing your earpiece at the time of your arrest, so you knew your partner was aware of the commotion. As long as he doesn’t screw it up, Durnavir would be captured without a problem. Then it was up to the SVU detectives to find the rapist and, in turn, you would get paid.

The door swung open and you glanced up at the man that entered – a short Asian man wearing a sweater vest. ‘Who knew sweater vests could be attractive…’

“Hello,” he smiled kindly, taking a seat across from you and setting down a legal pad and a pen. “My name is Dr. Huang.”

“They sent in a shrink, really?” You scoffed in amusement.

“Will you tell me your name?”

“You ran my prints,” you hummed, the corner of your lips quirking up slightly because you knew no results would come back to them.

“I’d like to hear it from you.”

You quirked a brow, leaning forward onto the table as you met his dark eyes. “Don’t you have more important things to worry about? The longer you spend on me, the more likely it is that your little rapist gets away. I’ll even give you a hand – Durnavir ain’t the rapist.”

He shifted, folding his hands on top of the legal pad. “Do you know Duane Durnavir?”

“We’ve crossed paths a few times in the past.” You shrugged, leaning back in the chair and propping your feet up on the corner of the table. “He seems to be pretty popular as of late. Even got himself some groupies. Good for him.”

When his dark eyes met yours, you had to stop yourself from shifting uncomfortably. It was like he was looking directly at your soul, analyzing every movement, every tic, every breath you took. You really didn’t like it. “Tell me, what were you doing at Margarett Turner’s apartment?”

“Is it a crime to visit people now?”

“No, but you did assault her. Will you tell me why?”

“She looked at me funny.” You shrugged, glancing at the clock behind you. Truth be told, you had kicked the bitch as revenge for getting you caught because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Granted, you should have expected her to scream and not been so careless, but it was so much easier just to think it was some kind of karmic retribution.

The small earpiece within your ear buzzed lowly before your partner’s voice came through. “We’re pulling up now,”

You grinned, motioning toward the door with your hand. “Your main suspect is arriving, Dr., but I’m telling you he’s not the rapist you’re looking for.”

Dr. Huang’s brow furrowed, but before he could question you further, someone knocked on the glass and he excused himself before leaving the room. A few minutes passed before Benson entered the room, looking unhappy with the message she was about to deliver.

“You’re free to go,”

You stood up, not sparing her a look as you exited the room. You paused for a moment before approaching the Dr., leaning toward his ear so the others couldn’t hear you. “He may not be the rapist, but his baby brother is. Good luck, doc, don’t get yourself killed.”

When you patted his shoulder, Benson pushed you from behind, giving you a warning. You sent the doc one last smile before heading toward the exit, your eyes locking with Durnavir’s as he was shoved into the waiting cell, his face bloodied and bruised. He didn’t even recognize you, though you understood because it had been three years since you last saw him in person.

Plus his right eye was swollen shut, so that probably didn’t help.

You exited SVU’s headquarters, sliding into the sleek, black car that was waiting for you, your partner sitting in the driver’s seat. He sent you a look when you entered the car, but you said nothing as he started to drive off. For some reason, you couldn’t get that doctor out of your mind.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

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The Alarm that Never Sounded: GOT's treatment of the SanSan Romance

by Miodrag Zarkovic

Originally posted here.

When adapting female characters from ASOIAF into the TV show "Game of thrones", David Benioff and Dan Weiss aren't unlike Robert Baratheon: if they can't disrobe it, they're bored with it. Their rendition of Melisandre, for example, isn't an intimidating and imposing practitioner of dark and supernatural powers, but rather a seductress who's able to make people obey her only if she rewards them with sex (Stannis, Gendry) or gold (Brotherhood without Banners). One more example would be their rendition of Margaery Tyrell, who was turned from a teenage girl with a perfect facade and somewhat mysterious foundation, into a promiscuous lady willing to do anything – even have sex with both her brother and her husband simultaneously, as she proposes to the latter in Season 2 – in order to achieve her personal political ambitions that are literally limitless.

With that in mind, Sansa Stark never had a chance to be properly adapted in the show created by D&D. Now, the word 'properly' has a rather wide range of possible meanings, and this essay will attempt to examine at least some of them, but, for now, let's say that the most obvious aspect in which TV Sansa was shorthanded is her screen time. In "A Clash of Kings", the book that was the basis for the Season 2 of GoT, Sansa's POV chapters, along with Tyrion's, are the only ones that depict what's happening in King's Landing, the capital of The Seven Kingdoms and the center of political power in the story. This goes for the first two thirds of "A Storm of Swords" as well, e.g. until the moment Sansa escapes from King's Landing. In short, her chapters couldn't help but be of paramount importance in the narrative sense. In the show, however, Sansa's significance is greatly decreased, and not only because the show doesn't follow the "POV structure" of the novels, but because she's reduced to nothing but a prized captive for the Lannisters.

Yes, TV Sansa is a minor, and she's played by a minor, named Sophie Turner. Her age, due to the laws that forbid the usage of underage children in explicit sex scenes, prevented D&D from using Sansa in a way they adore. And her age couldn't be drastically changed without drastic consequences on her overall arc which is, in ACOK at least, built around her first period. That's why, for example, D&D couldn't cast Natalie Dormer – one of their favorite ASOIAF characters, by the way, because they did alter Margaery to suit the actress, instead of the other way around – in the role of Sansa, because Dormer, while certainly looking younger than she is, could never pass as a minor.

And that would probably be the only thing that makes Sansa off-limits for Natalie Dormer, or some other actress D&D adore, to play her in D&D's adaptation. Everything else would've been doable. Had George R. R. Martin not put her first period in the books, Sansa's age, promiscuity, vocabulary, even wardrobe, would've been changed accordingly to suit D&D's vision of a progressive Westerosi woman, which means the first three would've been amplified, while the fourth one – wardrobe – would definitely be reduced and freed from all the unnecessary parts. She'd probably even hook up with some rogue brute at some point; when she'd find the time for him, that is; after she's done with Joff, Tyrion, Lancel, and god knows who else, she'd certainly figure out cynical killers can occupy her bed just as good as other available men can.

Speaking of cynical killers – enter Sandor Clegane. One more character that, alas, couldn't be played by Natalie Dormer, and therefore not of particular interest to D&D. Sandor in the novels is a truly memorable fellow, who slowly but steadily grows in readers' eyes as the story progresses. At the beginning, he's nothing more than a merciless brute used only for killing people Lannisters want dead. Very soon, however, a reader finds out there might be some traces of soul under that rough surface. More and more we find out about Sandor, more and more intriguing and understandable he gets. Even – more likable.

Now, what makes him likable? The stories Littlefinger tells to Sansa?! Of course not. The stories Sandor himself keeps telling to Sansa are what fleshes him to the extent that was probably impossible to predict at the beginning of the series. Through his conversations with Sansa, we find out every important thing there is to know about him. Later on, when he hangs up with Arya, Sandor is already a fully developed character, whom we aren't discovering any more, but rather following. And he became like that precisely through his exchanges with Sansa.

The show went the other way, and a pretty odd way, at that. D&D decided it was better for Littlefinger to deliver the story of how Sandor's face got burned, and that decision carries some very serious consequences in regards to characterization. For example, Littlefinger appears as someone who does know the secrets of King's Landing, but, at the same time, as someone who doesn't hesitate to share those secrets with persons he doesn't have any control over. Yes, he warns Sansa not to tell anyone about the story; but, he warns her because, and here comes the funny part – Sandor is going to kill her.

Now, why isn't Littlefinger afraid Sandor's going to kill him? After all, isn't that the logical question because it's Littlefinger who offers Sandor's secrets to others? It seems there are only two possible answers: 1) Sandor is not that scary and dangerous as Littlefinger claims, or 2) Sandor is a dangerous fellow, but Littlefinger is the bravest individual alive, because he goes around telling the secrets of people that physically can literally eat him for breakfast; and he isn't shy even, because he doesn't fail to warn Sansa how dangerous is the situation he himself dares so boldly.

Whatever conclusion a viewer draws from there, something is going to be radically changed from the source material. Quite possibly, in fact, a lot of things are going to be altered. After the said scene, both Littlefinger and Sandor are drastically different than their book origins. And the characters we ended up with in the show, are not nearly as complex and intriguing as their book counterparts. This is especially true for Sandor, who's nothing if not scary and dangerous. He is supposed to frighten the living hell out of everyone who isn't his older brother. If you take that away from Sandor, you're only left with his tender side.

But, even his tender side was almost entirely removed from the show. This time, not only by Littlefinger, but also by Tyrion: in the throne room, when Joff orders Kingsguards to undress Sansa, Sandor stands there silently. His face expression suggests he isn't pleased with what he sees, but that's it. He doesn't stand up to his king with firm "That's enough" as in the book. It is therefore on Tyrion exclusively to deny Joffrey the pleasure of torturing the girl whose only crime was that she saw him in a moment of unflattering weakness. As in the books, TV Tyrion enters the room with his sellsword and he defends Sansa from Joff, but the important difference is that in the show it looks like Tyrion is the only one both willing to oppose Joffrey and capable of doing it. In the novel, we can sense that Sandor is ready to do the same thing, only, in his case, it comes with a much bigger risk, which is not without importance.

So, in this particular case, Sandor was sacrificed for the sake of TV Tyrion. TV Littlefinger, however, wasn't forgotten in that regard, because, once again, he's fed with lines that originally belong to Sandor. In the finale of the second season, it is Littlefinger who tells Sansa to look around and see how much better than her all those liars are. Just as the last time around, this change serves neither Littlefinger nor Sandor: the former's creepy-mentoring side is exposed much earlier than it would be logical, while the latter is robbed of yet another moment in which he shows how much he cares for Sansa and how protective he is toward her.

Sansa is a case on its own, as far as wrong adaptations are concerned. She's in the league with her mother Catelyn Stark, as two Stark women that were literally butchered in the show. The thing two of them have in common is the nature of their complexity: opposite to other female characters in ASOIAF, like Dany or Arya or Asha or Brienne or Cersei, Cat and Sansa aren't interested in hurting their enemies with their own hands, or, in the case of Dany, with her own dragons (this goes for Cersei, too, even though she's the one ordering the suffering of others, not committing it: her aggression is always personal, as we can sense in the first three novels). And, what's more, Sansa isn't interested in hurting anyone, actually. Cat does have an aggressive side in her; it's female aggression all the way, but aggression it is. Sansa, on the other hand, almost never desires other people to suffer in any way. There's only one noticeable exception: Joffrey. She does think on one or two occasions how nice it would be if Robb put a sword in Joff, and, by extension, she wishes Lannisters are defeated in the war against her family. However, we have to consider the situation she finds herself in at those moments – imprisoned by the Lannisters and at Joff's 'mercy' all the time; small miracle she wishes them ill. I've never been a girl arrested by the grave enemies of my family, but if I was, I'd definitely pray for their most horrible deaths every single night. And, we have to remember that, after Joff's death, she fails to feel happy over it, even though she tries to a little.

Therefore, it maybe isn't a stretch to say Sansa is probably the one character that is most unlike the author himself. Other major characters, especially POV ones, do resemble Martin at least partially. For males, it's obvious: even though GRRM never fought in a war, nor had any military training whatsoever, men are men; even in our day and age, no male is a complete stranger to war; while depicting all those dramatic battles and duels was quite an achievement (which no personal experience would make any easier, truth be told, because in ASOIAF the combat as a phenomenon is illustrated from any number of angles, each among them presented with an abundance of details), ultimately it was in himself where Martin could find a lot of answers about his male characters, whose position in a society is never independent from their combat prowess or lack of it. Female characters, on the other hand, had to be trickier, just like they always are for male authors – let's admit it, they are not that good in creating great females, just like women writers usually don't produce male characters that are a match to their female characters nor to the male heroes created by male authors. In our day and age, these "gender rules" are rarely spoken of, but they continue to exist, due to gender predispositions that are nowhere as strong as in the mind of an individual. There are exceptions, as in good male characters created by women and vice versa, but they are in a clear minority compared to underdeveloped or unrealistic characters whose only "fault" was that they didn't share the sex with an author. And in that regard, ASOIAF could very well be unparalleled: it is perhaps impossible to find any other story that features nearly as many memorable male and female characters both, as ASOIAF does (truth be told, that fact alone should be enough to inspire analysts and scholars to look at ASOIAF at a different, more demanding light, and not as a genre piece).

Martin's girls, however, aren't completely unlike the man who came up with them. Most of them are willingly participating in "men games", e.g. power-plays and/or wars, which makes for a precious connection to a male mindset of the author. They are thinking and behaving as women (or, in the case of Arya, and Dany to an extent, as girls), but all of them are interacting with something that, in all its glory and misery, can roughly be called "a man's world". Some of the most beautifully written chapters in the series are delivered from female POVs – The Red Wedding and Cersei's "Walk of Shame" come to mind right away; but, in a thematic sense, those and other female chapters don't differ too much from male POVs.

Except for Sansa's chapters, which unmistakably belong to something we can roughly call "a woman's world". Chapters of both male and female POVs in ASOIAF are often rich with testosterone, but Sansa’s ones are almost entirely driven by estrogen: look no further than her captivity in King's Landing, that actually is, as already said, focused around her first period – that decision solely should bring a lot of respect for Martin, because he had to know going that road is never easy for a male writer.

And the funniest thing is, it all fits. Sansa's storyline is distinctive in tone, but not odd. It is a legitimate part of the general plot of ASOIAF. In fact, as her story progresses, Sansa becomes more and more important for The Game, even though she showed no clear inclination to participate in it so far, but at the same time, Martin keeps Sansa away from all those "male" aspects he decorated other female characters of his saga.

And on top of everything, we're presented with her love story, a romance with no other than the man who, prior to discovering some delicate feelings for Sansa, could pose for an ideal brute of Westeros. At the beginning of the story, Sandor Clegane could be perceived as the exact opposite of Sansa. As someone who has no business whatsoever in her world, just like she has none in his. But, with some craft wording and master subtlety, Martin succeeds in illustrating the flood of emotions that go both ways in their relationship. Those emotions are never easy, nor appropriate, let alone allowed – even by Sansa and Sandor themselves! – but they're hard to be denied.

The complexity of their multilayered characters, of their respective positions in a society and in an ongoing war, and of their relationship that resists all known clichés, represent some of the strongest evidence that ASOIAF is much more than a genre piece. There's a lot in these novels that escapes genre boundaries, but nothing more evidently than SanSan. Stuff like that is not your usual fantasy element, no matter how flattering fantasy can be as a label (Homer, Shakespeare, Tolkien – to name just a few all-time greats that created unforgettable stories with supernatural aspects in them). Any author who comes up with that kind of love story involving those kind of characters – and with a legion of other characters, and with no less than four different religions, and with themes of honor, redemption, identity, bravery, equality, ancestry, legacy, freedom, revolution... – deserves to be analyzed not as a genre writer.

Now, one can only imagine what kind of enigma Sansa and Sandor were for Benioff and Weiss. And it pretty much remained unsolved, because, when faced with all the complexity of these two characters, Benioff and Weiss decided to remove it almost entirely, along with their relationship that is reduced to occasional and odd mentioning of 'little bird'. TV Sandor was simplified to a one-note brute that goes around TV Westeros and lectures people about the pleasures of killing, a one-note brute he never was in the novels, not even in the beginning of the saga. TV Sansa, on the other hand, was denied her book complexity by shutting down all her layers, one by one. For example, Benioff and Weiss completely removed her decision to go behind her father's back and inform Cersei of his plan. They simply refused to go down that road. They did something similar to Catelyn, whose infamous line to Jon they didn't remove entirely, but did replace it with a much softer one. It is pretty safe to assume that Cat's and Sansa's complexity did bother Benioff and Weiss from the get-go.

What's also removed from the show is Sansa's agency, primarily represented in the novels by her secret meetings with Dontos, a disgraced knight she herself saved from Joffrey. In the show, we got only the saving scene; it was filmed and executed clumsily, but it was there at least. However, until recently, nobody could be sure Sansa did save Dontos, because the man disappeared afterwards (he was briefly seen as joggling balls in "Blackwater" episode, in the scene in Cersei's chambers, but he was unrecognizable for the vast majority of audience). It is reported, though, that Dontos will be returning in Season 4, so yes, Sansa did save his life after all. But, even when he returns, Sansa's attempts at escaping will be two seasons younger than they should've been at that point, and it's hard to see a way D&D can remedy that neglect.

Show-lovers often defend D&D in regards to Sansa, by saying her personality is a difficult and tricky one for portraying on screen, because even in the books she's introverted. Now, maybe she isn't the most extroverted character ever, but she's pretty far from reclusive, as she does communicate with the outside world a lot at the beginning of the series, before she's imprisoned. And even while in captivity, she can't help but communicate with Sandor and Dontos. What's more, around two of them she is her true self, which provides a wide array of possibilities for a good and informative dialogue that, in an adaptation, could compensate for the lack of inner thoughts. With Dontos, she's open not only because she saved him, but also because he explicitly offers his help (and, truth be told, it is he who enabled her to leave King's Landing eventually, so, even though he wasn't exactly honest with her concerning his motivations, her trust wasn't as misplaced as it may seem at first). And with Sandor, she's open for no particular reason – other than those subtle, emotional forces, that both of them can't help but follow and eventually become the closest and most intimate beings to each other.

The way Martin incepted and developed the barely visible, but undeniable romance, between Sansa and Sandor, is nothing short of literary brilliance. With so few words and interactions, he managed so much. The vast majority of readers are aware of restrained attraction they mutually feel, even though they didn't share a single physical aspect of the romantic relationship.

Martin is indeed a master of subtlety, as evidenced by what looks like the endless amount of carefully hidden clues that point to any number of narrative puzzles, realization of which do make an entire story much richer than if taken at face value. And he's never more subtle than with two romances: Rhaegar/Lyanna and Sandor/Sansa. Now, the respective nature of subtlety of those two romances is rather different. With Rhaegar and Lyanna, a reader is – through Robert's retelling – offered a version that is actually the very opposite of what probably happened, and only later a reader can pick up clues here and there, and finally figure out the story of a fatal attraction between the two. But, the clues are presented throughout the text, so much that, even if you don't decipher everything after the first read, at the end of "A Game of Thrones" – the first book of the series – you'll probably sense that Robert's view on events wasn't exactly accurate.

The story of Sansa and Sandor is a very different one. Their relationship is never as much as addressed, even by themselves. Sandor isn't a POV character, and he's not exactly open to people, so his silence on the matter isn't unexpected. But, Martin didn't address their romance even in Sansa's chapters, which are typically packed with inner thoughts of the POV character. It looks like Martin decided to do it the harder way and make their romance somewhat a mystery even for Sansa, which, in hindsight, does seem to be the most logical way: what teenage girl would be fully aware of a romance that "inappropriate", and experienced in those dire circumstances?! As a result of that decision, the readers got a completely fascinating depiction of a romance, that can be described as a train you hear from miles away: at first, you can't even tell is it a train or some similar sound, but slowly, with every second, you're more and more certain that your ears didn't trick you, and very soon the train is so loud that it is the only thing you can hear at all. In the novels, a reader may find something strange at first, when Sandor shares the secret of his burned face with Sansa. Some alarm may be turned on deep inside. And it becomes more apparent each time two of them share a page, with a culmination during the Battle of the Blackwater Bay, when Sandor, after he decides to desert the Lannisters, visits Sansa in her room and offers to take her home to Winterfell.

It might be the only instance in the entire series where Sandor did ask anyone's approval, which does speak volumes about his feelings for Sansa. Considering the manner in which Martin described this romance, Sandor's actions on that day was as good as a confession of his deep attraction to her. Sansa, on the other hand, doesn't have a single moment which could be pointed at as a prime evidence of her undeniable love for The Hound, but this doesn't mean her feelings toward Sandor aren't palpable. It's one more mastery of the writer: through her frequent (and skewed, but in a telling way) memories on the last time she saw Sandor, he was able to show her feelings resonating more and more inside her.

In the show, Martin was denied a chance to do the same thing, even though he wrote the "Blackwater" episode in Season 2. Thanks to the already destroyed storyline, and to god knows how many changes, and to D&D's decision to remove from the final cut some scenes Martin referred to with his scenes, the one between Sansa and Sandor near the end of that episode, served more as a greeting to book-fans who like SanSan in the source material, than as a goodbye between two not unlike souls who shared much, and could have shared a lot more, and maybe are going to if they meet again. In that scene, Rory McCann was visibly better than usual as Sandor, and Sophie Turner was as good as usual, but, just like with anything ASOIAF, the scene doesn't have nearly the same impact and importance if taken out of context.

The exact context of their SanSan is yet to be fully revealed in the books, too. Because of the already mentioned subtlety – a quality that seems to intimidate showrunners Benioff and Weiss, who, in their turn, do retaliate with their on-screen war on subtlety (just recall what they turned other romances into; for example, the romance between TV Jon "Not The Brightest Kid In The Block" Snow and TV "I Know Everything And Therefore I Can't Stop Talking" Ygritte) – Sansa's and Sandor's love story is by no means an open book. Their romance has its own share of mystery, one of which may be: what inspired those two persons to feel so strongly for each other? Personally, I always thought their mutual attraction isn't only based on a "beauty and the beast" model. There is that, but in their case it goes deeper. If that was the engine behind his emotions, Sandor had more than enough opportunities to find a beauty for his beast long before Sansa entered his life. With Sansa, I'd say their mutual attraction is rooted in their personalities. For example, if you take away Sandor's aggression, he also isn't interested in hurting others. He's naturally talented for violence, and he lives in a society that respects that kind of talent, and that is why he's violent for a living, but at the end of the day, the suffering of others isn't any kind of reward for him. Possibly, because he isn't interested in other people that much. Though, when he is interested in someone, the interest is as strong as they come.

(We don't know at this point, but it's not a stretch to imagine that his reaction to the news that his hated brother was killed wasn't unlike Sansa's reaction to Joff's death. "Am I glad he's dead? Well, not exactly, even though I wanted him killed.")

Sansa may very well be like that, too. That would be one of the possible explanations of her AGOT actions. Like the rest of the Starks, Sansa is a complex character that has some issues of her own, without which neither she nor the other Starks would be such memorable characters as they obviously are; it is the fact that they are both willing and strong enough to fight those issues, that Starks stand out for. Without going into details (as if I could!), I expect that in the remaining novels Sansa is going to face the reasons that made her go to Cersei that damned night and with the consequences of that action. And whatever comes out of that soul-searching will be inevitably combined with her claim to Winterfell that Littlefinger brought up in AFFC. And that combination is going to elevate Sansa's arc to even bigger and more important levels than so far, even though so far she was the one Stark that was most engaged – unwittingly, but still – in the bloody dynastic war for the Iron Throne.

And she'll have to cross paths with Sandor Clegane, one way or another. Their relationship was so meticulously built up, it simply has to get some sort of a closure. What that closure is going to be is impossible to predict, because we are talking of one George R. R. Martin, a writer who managed to shock us as he pleased more than a few times.

What is also impossible, is to take anything that did or didn't happen in the show as any indication at what the closer may or may not be. There isn't a storyline in GoT that wasn't drastically changed, and weakened in the process, but Sansa's arc, along with her relationship with Sandor, is among the biggest victims of D&D's inability to adapt.

Whether you happen to like what Benioff and Weiss put in the show, or don't, you'd be advised not to recognize any significance in their decisions for further developments in ASOIAF. Just like show-lovers tend to remind everyone else, GoT and ASOIAF are two entirely separate beasts. And book Sansa and book Sandor, along with everything Martin has in his store for them, can be really glad about it.

[geezeralert]

A Beatles fan gets back to where he once belonged

(Some albums from my collection)

(First of three parts)

As a really big fan of the Beatles, I have always been somewhat in awe of those who are really HUGE fans of the famed singing group.

They just seemed to enjoy the music on a whole different level, with thorough knowledge and appreciation for what was produced by this unique musical foursome in their eight-plus years together.  

So, over the last four months, as a retired-geezer-bucket-list endeavor, I took a huge leap towards earning my “huge fan” badge.

I re-listened to, re-enjoyed and studied — consulting at least five books — each of the some 300 Beatles’ recordings, as contained on their 13 official albums/CDs along with many of their various related versions (on the three two-CD anthologies, various collections like “One” and the BBC live sessions).

I am blogging about it because, honestly, I’d just like to share my experience and put my basic impressions down in writing.  It was riveting and sinfully fun, spending too much money and too much time — including many breaks to just sit back, travel down memory lane and simply be entertained by these pop songs/albums that took me through the 1960s, from my pre-teen to college years — on what’s really a rather personal, trivial pursuit.  

But I’m also holding out hope that my findings could be interesting for other Beatles fans, of whatever level.

Quick bottom line: I am more impressed now than I was before with the output of this pop group and the incredible blending of the four multi-talented musicians Paul McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr.  I’ll write about why and list the highlights of what I learned in the second part.

First off, though, I should define “really big fans,” my current state and that of many millions of my contemporaries worldwide from the sixties.

This group is familiar with all the Beatles recordings (able to identify them when hearing just the opening notes), their background as a group and individuals (back to teenage years), their basic timeline as recording artists (who authored what compositions and when), their alternate recordings, their post-Beatles recordings, their relations (girlfriends, wives), and their basic life stories.

In other words, we just just paid attention all these years, watching the relevant movies and videos, buying their records and reading at least the most reliable major books about them — first by Hunter Davies and then by Bob Spitz — while also picking up more than a few of the annual money-grabbing “new” ones.

I’ve read two books by “first wives” Patti Boyd (“Wonderful Tonight”) and Cynthia Lennon (“John”) and Lennon’s sister, “My Brother.”

I also bought one of the first song-by-song compilation books, “Beatlesongs” (1989) by William J. Dowling. For decades, it was my go-to source for day-to-day inquires like “who played that great bass part on ‘Hey Bulldog’”?  

By being a big fan, my Christmas and birthday presents from family and friends often have been Beatles stuff (when they tired of stuff feeding my other passion, baseball) including three coffee table books, a box of “The BBC Archives” TV and radio broadcast material, and three other books going into each of the group’s songs.

From all that, I am left wondering if the Beatles ever had a private, unphotographed, unrecorded (in writing or audio) stretch long than five minutes.

It was the final gift last Christmas,  “Revolution in the Head” by Ian MacDonald, that propelled me to finally take on this long-planned intensive study of the Beatles’ music.

MacDonald’s definitive work, updated three times since published in 1994, is classified as a textbook by the Los Angeles Public Library. It goes into great detail on the musical and sociological aspects of each song so it was sometimes beyond my sphere of interest. But it was most useful to me by going song-by-song in chronological order, referencing all the alternative versions of the songs and telling where to find them.  

Along the way, I also found the fascinating (although partially disputed) book “Here, There and Everywhere” by Geoff Emerick, a teenage recording studio prodigy who helped engineer (record, mix) just about every Beatles song, either as an assistant in his teens or the primary engineer in his early 20s.

His first-person observations helped flesh out the more technical aspects or third-party accounts of the Beatles songs.

(Other books used for the song-by-song marathon: “The Beatles: A Hard Day’s Write. The Stories Behind Every Song” by Steve Turner and “All the Songs. The Story Behind Every Beatles Release,” a massive, picture-filled coffee table book by Jean-Michel Guesdon and Phillippe Margotin.)  

Meanwhile, there are a ton of other written works out there awaiting my attention once this project is done – exhaustive books by Mark Lewisohn; memoirs by the group’s producer (and Fifth Beatle early on) George Martin and original drummer Pete Best; “Shout: The Beatles in their Generation” by Philip Norman; and “Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now,” by Barry Miles — to name a few . . . in my price range (more on that in part three). There’s a seemingly never-ending flow of written material and reworked music.

And it’s fair to assume “really huge fans” have read them all. (I’ll delve more into what constitutes that fan level in parts two and three.)  

The original idea for trying this project came after advanced technology, resolved legal issues and a favorable marketplace brought about the production of the entire Beatles catalogue on CDs nine years ago.

I had tried keeping up with the Beatles’ output over the years on vinyl, eight-track tapes and cassettes but, for one reason or another, had some holes.

Nearly my entire Beatles collection of vinyl albums was stolen from my college dorm room in the early 1970s. I then rebought some of the biggest ones at that time but then sat back and waited for releases in the latest medium (eight-track, cassettes, CDs, digital) and lost track of what I had.

So, when the complete collection on CD (remastered to sound even better!) became available, I perked up. But the price tag ($150-200) gave me pause.

Then came an offer to buy the whole shebang at half price. I was ready to pounce.

But there remained another major issue.

The Beatles’ studio personnel, I learned, recorded each of their songs in both monaural (“mono”) and stereo. Each version had/has its strong backers, especially as the original tapes were revisited and reproduced with improved quality (both in stereo and mono) for the latest CD versions.

For the “true experience” of listing to the Beatles songs, did one really have to possess and listen to both stereo and mono versions? The inner Beatles fanatic and picky perfectionist told me “yes.” My practical and realistic self, though, said that’s crazy, unnecessary and an expense only the crazy wealthy fan would want to pay.

Luckily, many music critics recognized the dilemma this posed for the average fan. From reading a few of their comparisons and conclusions, I came up with a fairly consistent recommendation for which albums are best in mono and which are best in stereo:

Mono sounds best for “Please Please Me,” “With the Beatles,” “Hard Days Night,” “Beatles For Sale” and “Help.” Stereo is recommended for “Rubber Soul,” “Revolver,” “Magical Mystery Tour” “The Beatles (The White Album)” “Yellow Submarine” “Let It Be” and “Abbey Road.” (The latter two were only mixed in stereo anyway.)

Mono and stereo versions of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” both offer great listening experiences, and the 50th anniversary remix in 2017 added yet another aural mix.

The mono box set includes all the songs released as singles (45 rpm) and not on any of the basic albums (though some, those that rose to no. 1 on Billboard lists, are included in the “Beatles — 1” album/CD).  

Emerick actually recommended the mono mixes of  “Revolver” and “Sgt. Pepper,” which he engineered. He said much more care was given to the mono versions than the stereo ones, which were rushed at the conclusion of the project.

He wrote:

“True Beatles fans would do well to avail themselves of the mono versions of Sgt. Pepper and Revolver because far more time and effort went into those mixes than the stereo mixes. The stereo versions of those albums have an unnecessary surfeit of panning and effects like ADT (Automatic Double Tracking) and flanging. (Fellow engineer) Richard and I would sometimes get carried away with them because of their novelty value . . . especially if George Martin wasn’t there to rebuke us. Needless to say, it was John who especially loved that kind of overkill — we’d sometimes whack something on too severely just to see how it sounded, only to find him winking at us, saying, ‘More!’”

It should be noted that Emerick wrote his book in 2007, before all the remastering of the Beatles albums took place. So, perhaps the new stereo mixes enhance those versions to the point that they now are preferable.  

And then there’s the whole “Let It Be” controversy, when the original recordings were turned over to “wall of sound” maestro Phil Specter, reportedly by John Lennon, much to the chagrin of McCartney.

So, a stripped down version of those songs “Let It Be-Naked,” was produced.

For my listening project, I listened to that naked CD as well as a number of mono vs. stereo renditions of Beatles’ songs.  

Basically, I agreed with experts (they are so grateful, I’m sure!) that the early albums are best in mono.

This was a time when few people had quality stereo systems, if any stereo at all (I had a small portable one in my room), and thus much more time and care was given to the mono versions (says my books). Those tunes in stereo sound pretty tinny and awkward to listen to (says my ears), especially with headphones (e.g. the drums and base in one ear, the voices in another).  

Of course, musical preferences, like all reactions to art, are wholly subjective. When I posted a list of my personal choices for “five worst Beatles songs” (yes, they did produce some songs I cannot stand: “Rain,” “Paperback Writer,” “Baby You’re a Rich Man,” “I’m Down,” “Helter Skelter”) on a Facebook site, several respondents said the tunes were actually among their favorites. Some fans treat all of the group’s output as wonderful and any criticism as sacrilege.

In the books I consulted, Beatles tunes certified as “classic” by one author sometimes were depicted as “a disaster” by another. Even the Beatles disparaged as “garbage” some songs I (and others) enjoy.

Typical of most listeners, my reactions when sampling the stereo and mono recordings are probably based on how I first heard the songs. And for nearly all of them, that would be mono. Anything different sounds off kilter.

Some examples: The stereo “Taxman,” the lead song on side one of “Revolver,” has the bass and rhythm section on the left side while the lead guitar and percussion are on the right, with vocals in both. It sounds wrong to my ears, which first heard all the music coming out of both speakers (mono). Likewise, on the same album, “She Said She Said” (a favorite of mine) splits the instruments into separate channels and doesn’t sound quite right to me.

Still, the later works, as remastered, do have much greater depth and clarity in the stereo versions. Songs like “Martha, My Dear,” “Savoy Truffle” and “Glass Onion” sound terrific (I played them over and over). Likewise, most of Sgt. Pepper, which was remastered a second time for the 50th anniversary CD, is fine in stereo.

In several cases, like “Martha My Dear,” I enjoyed a song in the latest version far more than I did originally.

Which brings us to my general observations on what I heard and read. That would be part two, coming tomorrow.  

[bthenoise]

Here’s The Best of 2018 As Picked By Your Favorite Bands

Well everybody, we did it. In two short weeks, 2018 will be over and we will all have somehow survived yet another 365 days on this earth. Now instead of using this space to talk about how shitty of a year it has been (because trust us, we could certainly sound off right now) we’d instead like to use this opportunity to shine a light on some of the finest things to come out of 2018 -- you know, like best album, best song, best movie, etc.

Like we’ve done in years past, instead of pretending to be the hip tastemakers and trendy influences like other websites, we’ve completely turned our year-end best-of list over to the artists we cover on a daily basis -- because let’s face it, their opinions are the ones we really care about, right? 

Right.

So to check out what bands like Memphis May Fire, Fit For A King, 3oh!3, As It Is, Sylar and more have all been obsessing over for this past year, be sure to see below. We hope you love the final list as much as we do and we wish you all the most relaxing and positive holiday season.

Enjoy!

Best Album of 2018:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: Dan + Shay - Dan + Shay Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: RITUALS - Deaf Havana  Nat Motte of 3oh!3: Chrome Neon Jesus - Teenage Wrist   Ira George of Movements: Technology - Don Broco     Cody Quistad of Wage War: Dan + Shay - Dan + Shay  Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: Honey - Robyn  Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: Thank You for Today - Death Cab for Cutie  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: Beerbongs and Bentleys - Post Malone Tyler Riley of Gideon: If I Know Me - Morgan Wallen   Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: Technology - Don Broco Palisades: Prequelle - Ghost  Matt Gravolin of Hellions: Stranger in the Alps - Phoebe Bridgers Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: Proper Dose - The Story So Far  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: Welcome To The Neighbourhood - Boston Manor  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: Time & Space - Turnstile + Proper Dose - The Story So Far (it’s a tie sorry)  Patrick Hamilton of Vanish: Come Over When You’re Sober pt.2 - Lil Peep Vagrants: When The End Began - Silent Planet  Household: Nearer my God - Foxing Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: Bad Witch by Nine Inch Nails is the best album of the year in my opinion. I am heavily into Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ work and I just love that they went for a totally different sound and vibe with Bad Witch compared to all the NIN records prior. They blend modern jazz with industrial, chaotic synthscapes and it’s absolutely wild. 

Best Song of 2018:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: "Better Now" by Post Malone  Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: “Hereafter” by Architects Nat Motte of 3oh!3: "Swallow" by Teenage Wrist  Ira George of Movements: “4Ever” by Clairo   Cody Quistad of Wage War: “Tequila” by Dan + Shay    Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: “Middle America” by Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks    Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: “It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)” by The 1975  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: “SAD!” by XXXTentaction   Tyler Riley of Gideon: “Slow Burn” by Kacey Musgraves Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: “Better Now” by Post Malone   Palisades: “Mantra” by Bring Me The Horizon  Matt Gravolin of Hellions: “Please Don’t Die” by Father John Misty   Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: “Bodybag” by LIL LOTUS feat. Coldhart  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: “Mo Bamba” by Sheck Wes  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: “High Hopes” by Panic! At The Disco (big mood)  Patrick Hamilton of Vanish: “Lavender Bones” by Stand Atlantic  Vagrants: “Doomsday” by Architects  Household: “Keeping Up” by Microwave  Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: “On My Teeth” by Underoath. I don’t care what anyone says, they wrote a phenomenal record and knew they would get flak for it. They deserve all the recognition they have been getting because they have been working hard since the beginning. It was so sick to see them get a Grammy nomination too. That was essentially a big middle finger to all of their nay-sayers, whether they win or not. 

Best Music Video of 2018:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: “This Is America” by Childish Gambino   Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: “Hereafter” by Architects  Nat Motte of 3oh!3: "New Light" by John Mayer   Ira George of Movements: “Say Something” by Justin Timberlake ft. Chris Stapleton  Cody Quistad of Wage War: “Hereafter” by Architects  Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: “Dark Speed” by Failure    Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: “Sincerity is Scary” by The 1975  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: “SICKO MODE” by Travis Scott Tyler Riley of Gideon: “Aeon” by Crystal Lake  Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: “This Is America” by Childish Gambino  Palisades: “SICKO MODE” by Travis Scott  Matt Gravolin of Hellions: “Sincerity is Scary” by The 1975    Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier:  “This Is America” by Childish Gambino  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife:  “SICKO MODE” by Travis Scott  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: "New Light" by John Mayer     Patrick Hamilton of Vanish: “God Is A Woman” by Ariana Grande  Vagrants: “Rose Quartz/Fulton Street I” by La Dispute  Household: “thank u, next” by Ariana Grande  Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: Childish Gambino’s “This Is America” has gotta be THE best music video of this year. I have nothing but respect for Donald Glover and the way he presented controversial, political topics through all of the blunt, straight-forward imagery throughout that video. He’s never put out anything I haven’t enjoyed front to back. 

Most Underrated Album of 2018:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: Are You Even There At All? - Brent Walsh  Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: Gray States EP - The Material Nat Motte of 3oh!3: Graffiti U - Keith Urban  Ira George of Movements: Man of The Woods - Justin Timberlake  Cody Quistad of Wage War: Seasons - Sylar  Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: Holy Hell - Architects  Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: Be More Kind - Frank Turner  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: Kids – The Midnight Tyler Riley of Gideon: Hatred Softly Spoken - Chamber Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: In Our Wake - Atreyu   Palisades: Come Hell - Dead Crown Matt Gravolin of Hellions: Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino - Arctic Monkeys Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: Blue In The Dark - Bearings  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: When The End Began - Silent Planet  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: Some Rap Songs - Earl Sweatshirt  Patrick Hamilton of Vanish: Taco - Bilmuri  Vagrants: Palms - Thrice  Household: Pierre - Pierre [ed note: We have no idea if it’s this or this. Guess you’ll have to decide!]     Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: Vince Staples’ FM Radio is very underrated in my opinion. I haven’t seen much about it at all since it dropped and it’s a sick follow up to Big Fish Theory. 

Best Movie of 2018:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: Bohemian Rhapsody  Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: Upgrade  Nat Motte of 3oh!3: Isle Of Dogs  Ira George of Movements: Annihilation  Cody Quistad of Wage War: Incredibles 2  Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: Avengers: Infinity Wars  Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: A Star Is Born  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: Avengers: Infinity War Tyler Riley of Gideon: Ready Player One  Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: Bohemian Rhapsody  Palisades: BlacKkKlansman  Matt Gravolin of Hellions: Hereditary Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: Avengers: Infinity War  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: Avengers: Infinity War  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: Deadpool 2 Patrick Hamilton of Vanish: The Ritual  Vagrants: Avengers: Infinity War  Household: BlacKkKlansman  Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: Hereditary, hands down. Best story, best character development, best everything. Acting, special effects.  EVERYTHING. I don’t wanna give away too much because I want whoever is reading this to watch it for themselves. 

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2018:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: Riverdale  Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: Ozark  Nat Motte of 3oh!3: Bodyguard   Ira George of Movements: The Final Table  Cody Quistad of Wage War: Nashville Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: Haunting of Hill House   Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: The Innocent Man  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: Ozark (Season 2), My Hero Academia Tyler Riley of Gideon: Brooklyn Nine-Nine  Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: Vikings Palisades: Haunting of Hill House  Matt Gravolin of Hellions: Ozark (Season 2)  Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: Brooklyn Nine-Nine  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: Bodyguard  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: The Office... duh  Patrick Hamilton of Vanish: Haunting of Hill House  Vagrants: The Office Household: Better Call Saul Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: If you haven’t seen Wild, Wild Country on Netflix yet, you need to. My girlfriend and I binged through that show with a quickness. What a crazy time it would have been to be alive and living in Wasco County, Oregon when all of that was going down. 

Favorite Internet Moment of 2018 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.):

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: Super Bowl selfie kid  Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: Thanos memes   Nat Motte of 3oh!3: This Post Malone / 21 Savage / Nickelback mashup video  Ira George of Movements: The Real Bros Of Simi Valley  Cody Quistad of Wage War: Moth memes got me pretty good for a while.    Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: This. Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: The rise and fall of Mason Ramsey  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: “Weird flex, but okay” Tyler Riley of Gideon: Mason Ramsey  Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: Don Broco Warped Tour workout video  Palisades: Pikachu shocked face  Matt Gravolin of Hellions: “Weird flex, but okay” Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: Squished face Lil Xan/moth memes  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: Any and all Casey Frey videos  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: Spongebob memes are great  Patrick Hamilton of Vanish: The bird Spongebob meme  Vagrants: Surprised Pikachu  Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: I try not to get too caught up with all of that but the moth memes were pretty great. 

Thing(s) You Wish You Had Done in 2018 But Didn't:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: Exercise lol  Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: Go to the gym more.  Nat Motte of 3oh!3: Feeling pretty good about 2018, honestly. I voted and did my civic duty, paid my taxes, toured the country twice, worked hard, treated the people close to me with love and respect and tried to do that with everyone I came across!  Ira George of Movements:  Eat healthier  Cody Quistad of Wage War: Made a million dollars.  Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: Watch our favorite teams win the Super Bowl. A collectively impossible feat.    Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: Have more rest.  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: Wish I stuck to my workout plan like I originally intended to. Tyler Riley of Gideon: Go to Brazil  Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: Worked out more, learned how to play the clarinet.  Palisades: Cook at home more.  Matt Gravolin of Hellions: Procrastinated less  Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: Tour the United States of America Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: I have no regrets! 2018 was an incredible year for me.  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: Tour more. Vagrants: Travel outside of the USA  Household: Hang out with friends and family more  Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: Tour with Deftones. Hopefully Chino will read this and maybe consider taking LIMBS out next year? 

Bonus Question: 2019 New Year's Resolution:

Matty Mullins of Memphis May Fire: Perform in New Zealand  Ryan Kirby of Fit For A King: Play in South America!  Nat Motte of 3oh!3: To yet again, not make any resolutions!    Ira George of Movements: Eat healthier  Cody Quistad of Wage War: Be more healthy: physically and mentally. Write the best songs I’ve ever written.  Jay Forrest and Josh Brigham of Hopesfall: Be hardcore.       Ben Langford-Biss of As It Is: Have even less rest.  Jayden Panesso of Sylar: Play in new continents with Sylar, learn more about engineering music on my own.   Tyler Riley of Gideon: Put out our best album yet Adrian Estrella of Assuming We Survive: Workout more, give back to the community and better myself  Palisades: Make more music for 2019 Matt Gravolin of Hellions: Procrastinated less  Calling All Captains’ Nick Malychuk & Luc Gauthier: Play 150 Shows  Tyler Levenson of Afterlife: Travel to more of the world, see everything I possibly can.  Camm Knopp of Never Loved: Bust more butt get more bread    Vagrants: TOUR outside of the USA  Household: Write music and hang out with friends and family ;)  Daniel Nelson of LIMBS: To release a record of my own. I have been heavily into synths and music recording and production in general. I’m gonna try to delve more into that world next year and hopefully have something to show for it.    

WATCH MORE:

[stunudo]

Infiltrated: Part 3

I couldn’t find this gif while searching the Tumblr-loaded ones, but it is watermarked. Thanks to @spencerhellareid for the sly Hotch side-eye. xoxo

Featuring: Hotch x Female Reader/ Foyet x Female Reader

Setting: Season 4

A/N: I got an unsub fmk-type ask. So this came from that. This is going to be darker than any other series I have done. Hope you guys like it! The reader character has a name because she is protecting her identity. xoxo Stu

Warnings: Moral repugnancy and general unsub behavior. Also smut.

Series

Your name: submit What is this?

George had left the morning after the tenderizer with little fanfare. He relished in your wincing steps as you saw him to the door.

“Alright, Y/N, I’ve got some things in the works, but look out for a meet up in a week or two.” George watched you process the instructions, ensuring you were worried just enough to make his leaving a loss.

“If you need anything you know where to find me,” You held his gaze.

“Y/N, please, I don’t need anything.” George laughed in your face. “Ditch the burner, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Anything else?” You shifted with your hands in your back pockets, the skin still warm through your jeans. He didn’t say anything, but grabbed your chin, holding it centimeters from his face. He watched your eyes focus, listened to your breath hitch and became satisfied with his effect. He turned to walk away.

“Be safe.”

He didn’t even look back, but you could hear his guffaw bounce around the solemness of the drab apartment hallway.

A week after the midnight phone call, you finally crossed paths with the BAU again, in the flesh. Your team had been in the field on cycling twelve hour surveillance shifts, leaving your hours of mindless desk duties to be done at unlikely times. It was seven in the evening and you passed the sand-eyed profilers stepping onto the elevator.

“Going up?” Agent Morgan held the door for you and you gave him an appreciative tight lipped smile.

“How’s it going Turner?” Prentiss asked as she peered around Reid and Rossi.

“Have they developed an IV caffeine drip yet?” You joked, glancing over your shoulder to Hotch in the corner.

“Actually, Neonatalogists give Cafcit intravenously to premature infants to treat apnea.” Dr. Reid pointed out.

“So, can I get an adult dose then?” You asked.

“Oh, I’m not a prescribing doctor.” Reid grimaced at you. “But, it is just a different form of NoDoz.”

“Ah, well, I know that one well enough, it got me through my sophomore year of college.” Prentiss chuckled.

Their floor dinged and you leaned back to let them pass. You wondered what kind of horrors they had left behind their latest jet ride. Hotch was the last one on the elevator and something pushed you in his direction.

“Hey--” You caught his gaze and a witty smirk brought a sudden warmth to your cheeks. You bit back the pinching in your cheeks, “You got a minute? I want to go over something with you upstairs.”

He nodded, “Hey guys, I’ll meet you at dinner?” He called back out to his team. Rossi’s concerned stare bore into you as the metal doors closed. The atmosphere of the elevator had reached the summit of a roller coaster, your stomach fell as the doors parted on your floor. You nodded down the hall, leading Hotch through an unmarked door.

“Turner, what’s this about?” Hotch didn’t flinch at the surroundings. He seemed to think you had brought him here for discretion and not true privacy. You couldn’t exactly say why you were doing this, but slowly your body pulled you closer to him. He had a spicy aftershave that lingered on his collar. He froze at your proximity, but the lack of verbal explanation needed no follow up once your breath ghosted over his neck. His hand came out to clutch at your waist, protectively. You took in a ragged breath and knelt in front of him.

You found his belt as he let his shoulders fall against the storeroom door. Despite the looming stress of his last case and your waiting busy work, he responded quickly and impressively. His thighs were muscular and his butt clenched nicely beneath your finger nails as you took his cock into your mouth. He groaned a deep and pained sound; it had been awhile since he had such attention.

“Easy there,” Hotch gasped, stroking your hair from your eyes. You looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. His face was darkening with need and you improvised when he couldn’t form words. You built a steady yet lavish pace, swirling your tongue over his head with every few dips. You were getting incredibly hot knowing how wrong this was and how very much you enjoyed doing it anyway. This was not planned on, something that had gotten you into trouble in the past. Fuck the rules.

You hummed against Hotch’s length and puckered with the vacuum you had created, driving him further along.

“Oh Christ!” Hotch groaned, his knees bending as he added to your rhythm, he finally felt comfortable taking what he wanted. You enjoyed his pleasure more than you thought and his head fell back as he came down your throat. You finished draining him quickly, his hands fumbling with your hair and shoulders, unsure yet gracious.

You stood, as he put himself away. You leaned in before he could say anything.

“You don’t have to say anything, Aaron. This is doesn’t have to mean anything. This was--,” You locked on to his dark eyes, a smug smile creeping up your lips. “This was fun. Just friends. Releasing tension.”

He grabbed your upper arm before you could slip back into the hallway, his hot breath coating your ear. “I pay my debts, Y/N.” He never used your first name, it was almost a threat.

“And I collect on mine.” You replied, leaving the promise of future rendezvous  heavy on the air.

Hotch hadn’t sent you confused or suggestive texts, like most guys would have. He simply carried on working the case as you continued to consult whenever your unit could spare you. There was a big case in the works and your team was in the field or scrounging for leads with criminal informants day and night. You had learned what the phrase ‘dead on your feet’ truly meant. You gave up your night time shifts of tailing profilers at random. They were rarely in Virginia as it was and sleep had grown scarce.

When you dreamt you were always running, the air stolen from your lungs. You would pass indistinct people from your past as if you were running the Boston Marathon. But they weren’t cheering you on, they were mocking you. Hemmings was about ten paces ahead of you, smirking over his boulder of a shoulder. Then George’s voice was in your ear and the whole scene froze.

He was behind you, but off somewhere else there was an interrogation going on. Hotch’s voice was low and level and you didn’t want to hear what he had to say or the responses of his unsub. You knew who he was talking to, but you didn’t want to see their face. Suddenly your skin would burn and you would wake up.

You saw him waiting at the bakery down the street from your apartment while you went for a morning run. The bruising had lessened enough that you could run outside without drawing attention to yourself. It was a pain sparring in the gym, but the longer pants and baggy shirts kept your teammates none the wiser. When he had warned you it would be two weeks, in reality he had made it three. You knew better than to approach him outright, so you circled back on a usual path of yours.

He was sitting on a bench in a park, some place much too common for someone with such darkness inside him. He seemed unimpressed with the birds as he tossed day old bread at the hordes of flying rats. You stopped to stretch with the aid of his bench. You knew you looked appealing in your running shorts, cat calls were a hazard of the hobby. Having him appraise you felt intimate, like he was stroking you with one of his blades instead of just undressing you with his eyes.

“Everything pan out?” You asked, not making eye contact.

“It’s fine. How’s Boy Blue and his team of misfits?” George pelted a chunk of crust across the sidewalk to a massive goose.

“Overworked. They haven’t been home longer than two days since, we, since last time.”

“Since I fucked you raw?” George clicked his tongue and leaned back. He wore aviator sunglasses and a mean grimace. “Yeah, well, times ticking on Hotch’s clock, Y/N. Your new phone is in your car’s glove box. I’ll text you the details when we can, catch up.”

He stormed off as you held your knee to your chest, keeping your focus at a ninety degree angle from his departure. If you were being tailed, the two minute conversation could have only been seen from the way you had come. He was too calculated to be caught shooting the breeze. And you were too much of an exhibitionist to stop stretching as he walked away. You took a longer loop than normal to burn off your anticipation about his cryptic hints.

After a shower and a Hungry Man’s instant dinner, you strolled down to your car in the apartment building’s underground lot. On your passenger’s seat was an elegant shopping tote with a note inside. ‘FOR NEXT TIME’ in scrawled capitol letters. Inside the bag were leather straps, some bits of lace that may have been lingerie if there was more fabric and an empty knife sheath.

You almost forgot the real reason you came outside. You popped the latch on the dashboard. Inside, there was a black plastic bag with a prepaid cell phone and a pack of gum. He liked to keep the purchases less noticeable by putting multiple things on the receipt. You grabbed the bags and headed back inside. The phone hummed to life as you climbed the steps.

There were six text messages of incoherence before a date and time. It was the night before your next day off, sonofabitch was really keeping tabs on you. After two more messages with no discernible importance he gave you a location. He wanted to meet at the train station. What the hell was he doing?

“What the fuck Hemmings?!”

The rookie was late on the shift change and you had only an hour to get to the rendezvous spot to meet George. The newest agent on your team was a lot of things, but tardy was not usually one of them. You tried to keep your breathing regulated as the clock on the dashboard of the surveillance van ticked another minute. He was thirteen minutes late. Fifteen and you would have to check in with Headquarters, something could be wrong. But you weren’t that optimistic.

Your partner’s shift was over four hours later so that changeover wasn’t done in expected patterns. He just shrugged when it was seventeen after, you huffed and called into your Unit for a back up.

“This is Turner, Hemmings is a no show for his shift, is there a contingency in place?”

“Hang on Turner, let me talk to the Chief,” your SSA put you on hold. Great. The smuggling ring you were staking out was quiet and it was the middle of the day, what was keeping the idiot?! “Alright, Hemmings called in and said he is en route, sit tight.”

“Well, can I take the last twenty minutes out of his ass at least?” You were never late, it was one of your very few rules.

“Be my guest, but film it will ya? I want to keep that for posterity’s sake.”

“Maybe next time, when I don’t have somewhere to be,” you mumbled.

“Alright, check out when you can. Thanks.”

“Ten-four.” You gave an unnecessary sign off and proverbially sat on your hands.

Hemmings banged on the backdoor at precisely twenty four minutes after he was originally supposed to. You checked out of your detail and made your way across town to headquarters to get your personal vehicle as all Bureau issued cars were low-jacked. The extra trip was fraying your nerves at both ends. Better to be safe than sorry.

You hopped into the elevator and headed to your floor, it opened on six. Suddenly you were faced with a concerned looking Hotch talking to an annoyed Chief Strauss, you weren’t really in the mood to eavesdrop, but someone had called the elevator. “Going up?”

Hotch and Strauss both stared at you like an insect before their faces retracted.

“Keep me posted, Aaron.” Chief Strauss cut him off, stepping in beside you. She was back to a blank slate before you could ask her what floor she needed, but she said seven was fine. Sure lady, whatever that meant.

The doors closed on Hotch’s apologetic bafflement.

@a-unique-girls-heaven @gummiishark @rottendaisies @sunnygubler @lovebodymindstuff @archaic-zugswang @darkheartednerdwithglasses @mikri-oneiropola @princesswagger14 @justwinchesterme96 @profiler-in-training @kennybud @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @conversations-with-you-61065 @dontshootmespence @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown @cynbx @cherry-loves-fanfic @hotchnerfuckmeup @illegalcerebral @omallieallie @creativecody16 @kandii395 @tiny-potato-lives

[beautiful-bau-beau]

If You Love Someone

Tale as Old as Time Masterlist

-

“This is some storm.“ Maeve shuddered, pulling a covering tightly around her shoulders, holding an umbrella over Diane’s head. The aforementioned woman wore thick, warm furs to protect herself against the harsh wind and rain as they walked through the village, heading to the tavern.

"At least we’re not tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere… surrounded by bloodthirsty wolves.” She whispered. Maeve did not know whether she should laugh or cry as she thought of Diana all alone in the cold. “You know it’s not too late. We could always turn back…” Diane’s eyes narrowed and she turned to her companion.

“Why would you want to? The old spinster is getting what she deserves after treating me so harshly. Calling me ugly, denying me from my one true love. Impossible.” Diane snapped, “My god Maeve, why do you care about her well-being? You can not even hold an umbrella correctly!”

Maeve immediately lifted up the umbrella, flushing with shame. “It’s just… every time I close my eyes… I picture Diana stranded alone. And then when I open them… she’s… here!” The woman gasped, arm lowering.

“Do not be ridiculous Maeve, the idea of that is simply…inconceivable….Just as your ability to hold the umbrella!” She huffed, turning to see Maeve staring at something behind her.

The library was dark, but the rooms above it were dimly lit with candles. Diane could not believe her eyes when she saw Diana in the window, a woman beside her. “Who is she?” Her tone was similar to before Diana was tied up, making the hair on the back Maeve’s neck stand up.

“That is Emily Prentiss. She takes care of the books when the director of the library is away on business.” Diane simply said nothing, but sharply turned her heel, marching away.

“Miss?” Maeve called, running after her. “Where are we headed? What is going on?”

“Maeve, I have a plan. A plan to get everything I ever wanted, and no one can stop me.” - (Your POV)

“What are you doing y/n?” A voice inquired from behind your figure. You spun to find Alex Blake behind you. She had been the castle librarian, historian, and your old tutor, but she had been transformed into a bookend. You had not see her much since the curse was placed. “It looks as if you are polishing the mirror you were gifted.”

“‘Gifted’ does not seem like the correct word.” You mumbled, placing the object upon your table.

“Nevertheless dear, my question still remains. You seem to be anxious, why is that?”

“I was hoping to give this to Spencer. He seems lonely and I believe if he were to see his mother, he may feel more at ease here. I know I have already introduced him to the wonders of the library, but I do not think I have given him enough. He saved my life, and has somehow given new meaning to it.” Alex smiled softly at your sentiment.

“I realized I have now changed. I wake up every morning, excited and overjoyed that he is apart of my life now. The staff used to be so cold, but now I know and care for them. I am no longer the person I used to be….That is all thanks to him.”

“I believe that you are in love.” Alex chuckled. “That is wonderful! It is what every one has been waiting for!”

“Then you know I cannot allow him to remain here?” You sighed, turning away from her gaze. “I care for him too much to allow him to be separated form his mother, and forced to be with me.”

“Y/n… there is to be a ball for the two of you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes. He has been helping restore the palace to its former glory, and I suggested making use of the ballroom. I hope to…” You broke off your sentence. “The mirror will be his to use however he wishes. A…parting gift. My goodbye.”

“I believe you are very wise Princess. I believe love is like a dove. You must give it room to venture, and be free. The tighter you try to hold onto it, the more it will try to get away.” You stayed quiet, looking out your window.

“You have taught me well. I will and have always treasured you, even if I have never said it.” You failed to notice between your conversation that she climbed up on your vanity, pressing her cold lips on your cheek.

“I have always known. I wish you luck, for parting is never easy, no matter how many times you have done it.” -

(Third Person POV)

“Mademoiselle Turner, a woman of high stature, such as yourself must know that I don’t usually leave the asylum in the middle of the night, but I believe you will make it worth my while.” Mousier George Foyet, head of the insane asylum, sat across from the two women in the parlor of Diane’s home.

“My good sir.” Diane faked a smile as she handed a few gold pieces to Maeve, who stood beside her. The servant passed the currency to the leering man who wasted o time to inspect its realness. “The situation resembles this. I’ve got my heart set on marrying Spencer Reid, but he needs a little… persuasion.”

“Mousier Reid is very concerned about the health of his mother. The worry is…overtaking his time.” Maeve carefully clarified.

“Everyone knows his mother is an absolute lunatic. She forced me to help her the other night. She was convinced that Spencer was taken by a terrible beast, and mentioned talking teacups, a castle in the middle of the forest, and that it was covered in snow. May I remind you that it is summer?”

“I believe the woman sounds harmless, even if her brain may be starting to go.” Foyet sighed, rubbing his nails on his shirt, eyeing the objects around him greedily.

“We may agree to disagree. My point, Mousier, is that Spencer would do anything for the safety of his mother.” Her eyes gave away the meaning of her seemingly ordinary phrase.

“So am I to understand that you wish for me to throw Diana in the asylum as bait to persuade the young man into marriage with you?” Diane nodded. “I do not believe I understand why you would chase after a man who clearly does not have any interest in you when there are so many others that do.”

“I am not paying for you to understand, you simpleton.” She barked, shoulders squaring up. “Do you agree to my terms?”

“You drive a hard bargain Diane.” Foyet snickered, standing and bowing deeply. “But how could I refuse?” -

Once Diana had been healthy enough to venture outside of the library, she insisted on Emily leading her over to the tavern, and exposing Diane for who she truly was. She was convinced that with Emily by her side, everyone would finally believe her. The large crowd the tavern inhibited quieted down immediately at the sight of the two educated women. The silence was broke down by a triumphant cry.

“Diana!” Diane cheered, running over to the older woman and wrapping her arms around her. “Maeve and I were so concerned! After you ran into the forest we tried looking for you but we feared the worst!”

“The lies that slip from your tongue are despicable. You tried to kill me and you left me to the wolves.” Diana pushed herself away, crossing her arms.

“Darling, It is s one thing to rave about your beasts and castles but it is another thing to accuse me of attempted murder.” The crowd mumbled incoherent ramblings.

“Diana… do you have any proof of what you’re saying?” A young barmaid, Elle Greenaway asked, a hand coming to rest upon Diana’s shoulder.

“Ask Emily, she rescued me from death.”

“Emily Prentiss! You would hang your accusations on the testimony… of an old spinster who wastes her time reading books when she is supposed to be watching over them?” Diane chuckled, a few chiming in with her. Emily kept her calm, observing the selfish airhead in front of her.

“I believe Diana mentioned that Mademoiselle Donovan was also present. She saw it all.” Emily uttered.

“Me?” Maeve squeaked, eyes wide. Diane never mentioned that she would also be involved in this plan.

Ah, right. Don’t take my word for it. Maeve… my dearest companion… did I… your oldest friend and most loyal compatriot… try to kill the mother of our dear friend Spencer?“ The way Diane smiled may have seemed innocent to others, but to Maeve it was almost as terrifying as knife to her throat. If she answered truthfully it was highly doubtful that anyone would believe her seeing as Diane’s parents helped found the town of Villanueve. If she lied, as Diane wished her to do, Maeve would live to see the next morning.

"No, she did not. Diane is the sweetest person I have ever known and is not capable of any malicious thought, let alone a murderous action.” Maeve swallowed thickly not being able to look anyone in the eye.

“Diana… I dealt with your delusions the other night but it pains me to say that I believe you have become a danger not only to yourself, but to others. No wonder Spencer ran away. He must have been so exhausted having to deal with your lunatic ramblings and accusations. You need help, sweetnesss. A place to heal your troubled mind. Everything’s going to be fine. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mousier Foyet.” At the mention of his name, the man seemed to appear out of thin air.

“No…no please you cannot do this to me! You cannot hide me away because I chose not to subject my son to your horrors.” Diana tried to step away from Foyet’s grasp, only to bump into associates of his. “Emily! Elle! Someone, please!” She turned, hoping to find a compassionate face only to realize that Emily was gone, and no one dared to speak up.

“Please!” Diana screamed as she was dragged into a cage within a carriage. Her begs and pleas fell on deaf ears, as did her sobs. “Spencer….someone….help me.”

- @phoenixwwitch @totallynotn3rdy95 @cool-bluemoon @amarislestrange @rogerthatsgt @marieannfandoms @bekaperk  @dontshootmespence @mariadrinaa @charcoalblack-ish @queenelsaschyler @captainreid @drunk-fairytale @thepartofmethatyouneverfind

[turnertimeline]

Rescuing Janie (8)

Rescuing Janie (1)

Collection: Turner family, Janie

Year: 1967

Characters: Shelagh Turner, Janie Thompson, Sergeant Peter Noakes, George Thompson, Ruth Thompson, Margaret Thompson 

Content Warnings: child abuse, emotional and physical abuse, domestic violence, self harm, violence, threat of violence 

Rating: T

Style: Prose

Summary: Janie hasn’t been at church for a couple of weeks, and when Shelagh finally sees her again…

A/N: Please, please heed the warning for this instalment, and for the rest of the parts in this series. Please feel welcome to send us an ask if you have any concerns, if if you want more details about what ‘Rescuing Janie’ will entail

The ride to George and Ruth's is nearly silent. Shelagh giving the directions to Peter from the backseat. Janie is silent and so still, and gets paler and smaller the closer they get to the house.

By the time the car stops Janie is shaking. She hadn't let go of Shelagh's hand the entire drive. Shelagh gets out the car first so she can help Janie out of the car, and then takes her hand again. Peter leads them up to the door and is the one to knock. Shelagh notices the curtains in the front window twitch a few moments before the door opens.

"Let Peter do the talking alright?" Shelagh says quietly to Janie, who just nods in return.

"Mr. Thompson?" Peter says, voice firm and brisk and all business. "I'm Sergeant Noakes."

Shelagh can feel Janie shaking even harder when George opened the door, she gives her hand a squeeze. George's frame blocks the majority of the doorway, but Shelagh can see Ruth a few steps behind him, and even Margaret on the stairs.

"Yes? What sort of trouble has she gotten herself into? Running off wasn't enough?" His arms are crossed.

"No trouble at all, Sir." Shelagh can tell, because she knows him so well, how angry Peter is. "We do have some concerns, though."

"Nothing that goes on in my home concerns you, or the busybody from the church." George's voice is cold.

"I am afraid it does sir. Miss Thompson went to a trusted member of the community because she did not feel safe at home. And as a nurse, Mrs. Turner contacted the authorities regarding bruising that your daughter has sustained."

Peter's trying to control his voice as much as possible.

George scoffs. "Putting ideas in her head, more likely." He frowns at Peter, tries to intimidate him. "What was your name again? I don't know you. Who's your superior?"

"Sergeant Peter Noakes sir, I am the superior officer in my station."

"I've never heard your name before, you must not have jurisdiction in this area then." A smug look comes over George's face.

"I have jurisdiction across the whole country," Peter replies, "but my station covers this neighbourhood and Poplar."

George sneers when Peter mentions Poplar.

"In any case, Mr. Thompson, we need to speak to you and ensure that Miss Thompson and your other daughter is safe. May we come in?" Peter straightens himself up a little more.

"You most certainly may not. Stories my daughter tells does not give you reasonable cause to enter my home." He turns his attention to Janie. "Jane, get inside, we have to discuss how we're going to handle your actions today."

Janie is shaking so hard she feels like she can barely stand, but Shelagh's grip on her hand is like a vice.

"Fortunately we have more than their words, Mr. Thompson. Your daughter has several concerning injuries." Peter replies calmly.

"Seeing as she jumped off of a roof today, I wouldn't be surprised if she has a few bumps and bruises." George tries going a different route. Blaming Janie for her own injuries.

"In my professional opinion, her injuries are not consistent with a controlled jump from a low roof." Shelagh says, stepping up closer to Peter.

Janie's hand tightens and she tries to pull Shelagh back, but Shelagh keeps staring George down.

George sneers at her. "Professional?" Eyeing her pretty summer dress and the loose wave of her hair.

"Yes. I am a trained nurse and midwife. The injuries your daughter came to me with were concerning enough for me to contact Sergeant Noakes."

Shelagh squares her shoulders and gives Janie's hand a squeeze. Janie tugs back on Shelagh's hand, she can see that George's face is starting to go red. A sure sign he's about to lose his temper.

Shelagh squeezes her hand again. "In fact, I would say they suggest long term and repeated trauma. Probably forced. Now, if you would prefer to have this conversation on your front step, by all means we can continue."

"George, let them in. The neighbors don't need more to talk about regarding this family." Ruth hisses from behind him.

George turns to glare at her but moves to let them into the house. Janie and Shelagh follow Peter in, Shelagh making sure she's standing between George and Janie.

Janie notices Margaret sitting on the stairs, the same place they had been when Annie had come to announce her pregnancy.

"I'm going to be perfectly frank Mr. Thompson. We are only here as a courtesy to you. With the evidence collected of your daughter's bruise, her testimony and that of her older sister Annette's, I'm filing for emergency foster care placement for Jane." Peter says, taking his cap off once he's inside.

At the mention of Annette, George whirls around to find Janie.

"Anything that little whore has to say is no testimony." His voice is cruel.

Shelagh pulls Janie behind her, protective. "On the contrary, my daughter's testimony is exemplary. She even has the same scars."

Shelagh doesn't realize at first that she called Annie her daughter. But she doesn't make any indication that it wasn't intentional.

"Your daughter? What would that have anything to do with it?" George asks, thinking he's caught her.

"Your 'whore' of a daughter is marrying my son." Shelagh’s face is almost smug.

"Annette is getting married?" Ruth says before she can stop herself.

"In a few weeks," Shelagh confirms,

"Stop calling her that," Janie says, her voice tiny. It used to be one of the things George punished her for, before she got better at keeping quiet.

It makes George furious, to be spoken back to like that, contradicted in his own house in front of these people, and he reaches out to grab Janie, but Shelagh steps in his way before he can.

"Don't touch her." There is fire in her eyes. "You will not lay a hand on a child in front of me.”

"I'll do damn well as I please."

"I'd like to see you try." Shelagh's standing at her full height, which really isn't anywhere near what someone would call tall. But her shoulders are straight and square and there's fire in her eyes.

He raises his hand like he's going to hit her and Shelagh laughs. In the split second that his hand moves to strike her two things happened. Peter moved to George's side, ready to take him down. And Shelagh's caught George's wrist.

Peter blinks at her, shocked.

"I'm not a child you can bully," Shelagh tells him quietly.

"Janie, go to the car." Shelagh's voice is still calm, even though she's staring George down. His wrist still gripped in her hand. George lowers his hand and Shelagh finally lets go.

"If you step out of this house Jane, you are not welcome back." George shouts.

Janie just bolts.

Shelagh raises her voice a little, trying not to give away that she's spotted Margaret on the stairs. "My home is always open to anyone who needs it."

Shelagh turns on her heel to follow Janie out of the house. Peter waits to make sure that George won't go after her from behind.

"We will be moving forward with the emergency foster care. A detective inspector will be in touch." That's the last Peter says to George before following Shelagh.

George is left standing there, still spluttering in helpless rage. Ruth goes past him, to stand in the doorway and watch Shelagh give Janie a hug and help her into the car, and Peter hug Shelagh.