#source: lock stock and two smoking barrels

[mamaspidershit]

Natasha: I brought weapons as well. Peter: What do you mean, weapons? Natasha: [pulls a bundle from her coat and unrolls it, revealing large knives] These. Peter: Jesus! Let's keep them covered up. Couldn't you get anything bigger? Natasha: [pulls a big machete] What, like that? What do you think? Peter: … I think you need help.

[incorrectdisa]

Gretta: I brought weapons as well. Dwight: What do you mean, weapons? Gretta, pulling a bundle from her coat and unrolling it, revealing many large knives: These weapons. Dwight: Jesus! Let's keep them covered up. Couldn't you get anything bigger? Gretta, pulling out a big machete: What, like this? What do you think? Dwight: I think you need help.

[justforbooks]

PH Moriarty

Actor known for his menacing, often violent roles in British gangster films, notably The Long Good Friday and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

PH Moriarty, who has died aged 86 after suffering from dementia, came late to acting as he approached 40, but made an indelible impression, most chillingly in two British gangster films. The simmering menace he brought to the screen led one critic to observe that he could “make Hannibal Lecter look like Noddy”.

Distinctive for his moustache, smart grey suit and tie, he was ever present in The Long Good Friday (1980) as Razors, henchman to Bob Hoskins’s brutal underworld property developer, Harold Shand, who seeks to build his empire through the regeneration of London’s Docklands. Moriarty is seen driving Hoskins around on a quest to discover who is threatening this ambition (it turns out to be the IRA).

After placing the barrel of a pistol in the ear of a police informer interrogated by Shand (played by Paul Barber), Razors reveals the source of his nickname. As he lifts his shirt to display endless scars on his torso, patched up by what he describes as “65 inches of stitching”, Hoskins says he is known as “the human spirograph”.

Picking up a machete, Razors tells Barber: “Now you’re going to feel what it’s like, boy.” Several slashes follow in what proves to be just one of the violent scenes that, combined with Barrie Keeffe’s intelligent script, made The Long Good Friday a high-water mark in the history of British gangster films. Moriarty is also alongside Hoskins when rival gang bosses are suspended upside down on meathooks in an abattoir.

The film set him on a career largely typecast playing such characters, but on both sides of the law. “A guy in America saw it just after it came out, rang me up, the next thing, I was over there and starring in Jaws 3-D,” said Moriarty, who played the cockney sidekick to Simon MacCorkindale’s British oceanographer and photographer in that 1983 film.

At the end of the following decade, he appeared in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998), the writer-director Guy Ritchie’s acclaimed gangsters and gamblers drama, as “Hatchet” Harry Lonsdale, a porn seller who bludgeons his enemies to death. When a criminal played by Nick Moran loses £500,000 in a card game rigged by Harry, he is given a week to pay up.

The agent Simon Drew said of Moriarty: “The actor in him could make you fear for your life. If you knew him, the scowl quickly changed to a wry smile.”

Paul Hugh Moriarty was born in Deptford, south London, the son of William Moriarty, a lorry driver, and his wife, Mary (nee Griffin). On leaving St Joseph’s Roman Catholic school at 15, he trained as a cooper at the Admiralty’s victualling yard for six years – while boxing as an amateur – before becoming a stevedore at Surrey docks, Rotherhithe, where he lost the sight of his left eye in an accident.

When the TV producer Tony Garnett was filming there for a 1978 episode of Law & Order, Moriarty’s brother-in-law, GF Newman – the writer of the gritty four-part drama questioning the judicial system – suggested him for a part. As a result, he played a prisoner in the final episode and, as there was already an actor called Paul Moriarty, he took the professional name PH Moriarty.

He was then cast as a pub bartender in the cult mods and rockers film Quadrophenia (1979) before growing a beard for the big-screen version of the banned TV play Scum (1979) to play Hunt, the borstal warder checking in Ray Winstone’s young offender in a manner that suggests the staff are as unpleasant as the inmates. “You have heard of us, Carlin, aye?” he asks as his colleague roughs up the teenager, who has assaulted an officer at a previous institution.

In a similar vein, Moriarty played one of the prison warders giving a beating to Jimmy Boyle in A Sense of Freedom (1981), based on the Glaswegian gangland murderer’s autobiography.

He became a regular on television and was clearly cast to type when he was credited as “Evil Jim Dalton” in a 1990 episode of The Paradise Club. Later, he brought menace to the Sci-Fi Channel series Dune (2000) and its sequel, Children of Dune (2003), as Gurney Halleck, a character distinctive for a whip wound on his jawline. The producers saw that the scar, combined with the actor’s damaged eye, made his face incredibly expressive, angry and sad at the same time.

Moriarty’s later films included Evil Never Dies (2014) and Rise of the Footsoldier: Origins (2021).

In 1961, Moriarty married Margaret Newman. She, their son, Mark, and daughter, Kathleen, survive him. Another son, Neil, died at three days old.

🔔PH (Paul Hugh) Moriarty, actor, born 23 September 1938; died 2 February 2025

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Fowlmouth: (Bleep bleep) Foghorn, do you always walk around with this in your pocket?

Foghorn: Hey ah say hey! You use language like that again son, you'll wish ah say you’ll you hadn't!

[splat-dragon-correct-fandoms]

Guns are for show. Knives are for pros.

Javier

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Preston: What is that?

Deacon: That's Hancock.

Preston: Yes, I know that's Hancock. What’s that?

Deacon: Fertilizer.

Preston: You went out six hours ago to buy a money counter and you come back with a semi-conscious Hancock and a bag of fertilizer...

[leeloopitts]

Hazel: They [the Hargreeve kids] are armed.

Cha-Cha: What was that? Armed? What do you mean armed? Armed with what?

Hazel: Err, bad breath, umbrella's, colorful language, feather boa... what do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!

[incorrect-batfamily-quotes]

Red Hood: *spying on Black Mask’s men through binoculars*

Red Hood: They’re armed.

Arsenal: *setting up arrows*

Arsenal: What was that? Armed? What do you mean "armed"? Armed with what?

Red Hood: Uh, bad breath, colorful language, feather duster… What do you think they’re gonna be armed with? Guns, you idiot!

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Living with what you’ve done

Uhhhhh

UHHHHHHH WHAT

Ok so I started writing the 100 special but then I got to 120!?! Wtf when did this happen?

Though I would like to thank each follower personally I have social anxiety and would rather not randomly message strangers following me. Here is my public thank you!

Idk what I did while writing this but it seems I managed to copy-paste the beginning four seperate times. This brought the word count up to 5.9k but it is now edited and brought down to 2.3k

Inspired by my friend @deltaxxk who loves angst and told me I have to write a follower special

Other prompts used: One, Two

Also! There are movie references within this fic, if you get them all you get a virtual lollipop 🍭

Ao3

Disclaimer: THIS FIC IS MAJORLY ANGSTY PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF ANY OF THE WARNINGS WILL TRIGGER YOU

Warings: blood, fire, death (+graphic descriptions of dying), injuries, grief, human trafficking and mentions of psychopathy

———————

“Robin we’re out of time! We must leave, we’re out of time!” Her yo-yo strained with tension as she swung into a goon, sending their body flying away from her team.

They had gotten a lead on a meta trafficking ring that involved some of the Gotham elite’s children disappearing. The lead brought them to the dock, GothDrill’s warehouse sat just off to the right. Its fluorescent lights signifying signs of life, Marinette knew most weren’t there willingly.

“Make more time!” He snapped back. Ladybug fumble slightly before regaining her footing, she wasn’t expecting the coldness in his tone.

She jumped back into the fray and watched from the corner of her eye Damian take on four goons by himself. She stifled a sigh before punching the man in front of her square on his jaw, ‘must he always prove himself when he has already?’ Damian edged himself closer to the garage doorway of the shed before disappearing into the building.

Focus her attention back on the battle around her, she saw Red Hood downed under a steel beam. She rushed over, and with her enhanced miraculous strength to lift the offending metal. He groaned with pain, the beam had pinned his legs, forcing him to lay stomach down. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, supporting the majority of his weight to get him to his feet. Pain throbbed in his left leg and they stumbled onto the dock to hide behind down GothDrill crates.

Ripping the seams of his pant leg, she revealed a dark purple bruise that was rapidly spreading. She also discovered the beam had broken his femur and shattered his kneecap, how he wasn’t screaming in pain was beyond her. Pink light danced between her fingers before drifting down to his wound. Jason bit his hand to prevent any cries from leaving his mouth. He didn’t want another confrontation in his state.

The sound reached her before the light did. Jason panted as he looked up to see what distracted her from his healing. Reflections of orange and yellows dancing across her cerulean eyes. “Damian.” She whispered frozen stock still.

Something within her very core snapped and cardinal urges overtook her common sense. Shooting up like a bullet she sprinted towards the blazing inferno, her ears numb to the world around her.

Inside was worse than the burning exterior. She could see where the explosion originated from, big barrels of flammable chemicals blazed white with heat. The smoke and burning chemical gases penetrated her airways, coughs racked her chest.

She could see flames running up the walls and the lit barrels but the rest was black. The smoke was a blanket of darkness that wrapped around her.

And then she heard it. The screaming.

Multiple voices, so raw with pain, masculine and feminine, old and young. Running towards it she hoped to spot Damian but luck wasn’t on her side. Instead she found the trafficked civilians, their bodies red with burns with their hair and clothes set ablaze.

She ran full speed at the wall nearby, shattering the melted bolts. The fire blazed brighter at the new source of oxygen. She directed the victims out, the dove towards the water. The goons had fled during the initial explosion leaving the Batfam free to help.

She looked down at the bodies of those who didn’t survive. Some were burned beyond recognition, she kept looking, scouring for Damian.

She heard Red Robin calling her name, she looked up to see the scaffolding holding the roof breaking apart and falling to where she stood. She felt her body tackled out of the way and another thunderous crash hit the floor.

She was dragged outside and placed into the care of a newly arrived ambulance. Her eyes, red from the smoke and ash, looked out the back door of the vehicle. Firefighters and police had arrived on scene along with news reporters and the public. Families of the trafficked were reunited with their lost love ones and others mourned their deceased. Red Robin stood there, watching her.

“You can’t just follow me into fire.” She croaked to him, her oxygen mask muffling her.

The whites of his black cowl narrowed and his fists clenched. “Then don't run into fire,” he growled at her before walking off.

Her body moved without thinking, removing her oxygen mask against the protests of the paramedics. Ladybug reassured them she’ll be alright and that they should help the others who were more injured than she. She walked back towards the building but the black-clad figure of Batman stopped her stride.

“You’re not using your cure.” He stated. Her eyes widened, the cure could save his missing son, save the trafficked from their injuries and deaths. Who was he to deny the will of a god’s favoured?

Using the cure in Gotham was always straining and the Batfam knew that. On multiple smaller occasions, she was prevented from using it due to the amount of damage and crime being reverse causing serious health concerns they observed in Marinette. But she never thought it would also be denied on an occasion like this.

“I have to! Robin cou—“

“No, you could die.” He cut her off, her foggy mind becoming more enraged.

“And he could live!”

Without a reply he injected her neck with a sedative, her body collapsed from the drugs and exhaustion. The world going dark around her.

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

Three days after

Her blaring phone distracted her from her dissociative state. She was staring lifelessly at her TV, she could say what happened in the show even if her life depended on it. She scrambled to her phone, Dick’s name lit up the screen.

She accepted the call, answer with a hoarse “hello?”

“Marinette? Are you able to make it over we have some things to tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Pressing her phone to her ear with her shoulder she ran around her apartment, grabbing her keys, shoes and jacket. Rushing out the door she rapidly fired questions at him, “What is it? Did you find him? Is he there?” All of which were answered with silence.

“It’s best that we discuss this when you get to the manor.” And with that, he hung up. The click seemed to echo in her car, even though she knew it didn’t. Driving towards the outskirts of Gotham where Wayne manor resided, she felt a spark of hope rekindle in her chest. Although Dick didn’t give her much to go on she still hoped they found him and everything could go back to how it was.

Fate wasn’t merciful to the naive it seems.

Her world shattered around her as she saw the crisped cape on the table. The smell of burnt blood permeated the room. Her eyes stayed locked onto the cloth as she spoke, “But this is only his cape, not his body. He still could be alive somewhere! He is injured and hurt and we have to find him!”

No one spoke. Their eyes flicked to one another.

Jason limped in her direction, his crutch clicking against the stone flooring. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his eyes brimming with unshed emotions. “The cape was found with the body, everything else was unsalvageable except the cape.”

A silent “we’ve found him, just not how we wanted,” resounded throughout her being.

She glared at Bruce, “He could be alive if you didn’t stop me! I could have saved him!” She lashed out, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“And we would have been having this exact conversation with Damian about why we didn’t stop you. The best outcome for this situation was you living.”

“No the best outcome was both of us being given a chance at survival” Marinette screamed at him, his face was emotionless. How could he be so uncaring to the fact of his youngest son dying?

Running out of the Batcave and manor she gasped at the cold night air. A sob escaped her mouth. Her head banged against her steering wheel, tears dripping onto her pyjama pants. There was no way she’d be able to sleep tonight.

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

Twelve days after

Fire danced in her peripheral. A medley of bright oranges and golden yellows. She remembered the times when the two of them would watch the sunset in silence, sipping on hot chocolate and green tea. This blazing inferno was different. Its colours more violent and foreboding.

The screams. They were different from the ones she heard that night. They were his screams.

She saw her body encased within his burnt arms. Damian was little more than a burnt corpse, his eyes blazed green and his bone was replaced with metal pipes. The cure resurrected him but he was not wholly there anymore.

She awoke screaming. Not in control enough to remember she had neighbours; mentally pleading that they’d understand. They knew of his disappearance but not of his death. She was still heavily in denial.

She isolated herself away from everyone, afraid she would hurt anyone else that got close. She couldn’t stop wanting to hurt Bruce for making her unable to use her cure or the goons for setting the place alight and killing her fiancé. She wanted to go scorched earth.

She snuggled into his pillowcase, his faint scent of honey was still present. She willed herself to fall back asleep, his scent surrounding her. His pillow, his shirt, his ring; but she was missing him.

++++++++

Two hundred and eighty-seven days after

Red trickled down her finger. It took her a moment to move the fabric away from the dripping blood source but managed to before it stained. It had been years since she had pricked her finger with a needle, but her subconscious must have needed to feel something; even if it was pain.

She looked around at her juvenile pink room. She had moved back into her parents six months after Damian’s death. Three months into her stay and she still had most of her belongings in boxes. The only decorations in the room were scattered commissions and a wooden blanket.

Looking down at the puddle of blood that was growing on her white desk she wonders if Damian bled before the fire cauterised his wounds. She had researched that burning to death was one of the most painful ways to die, it takes hours, each nerve ending burning. The burn victim usually passes out after a few minutes but she could imagine Damian desperately trying to put himself out, only to find more fire encompassing him.

His cape was bloody so she hopes he bled rather than burned. Or maybe he was crushed by the falling roof and killed instantly. She hoped he didn’t suffer for long.

Similar intrusive thoughts plagued her mind constantly but she kept her focus on her art to push through the days. Gazing down at the wound she found Tikki had held her and Wayzz had wiped the puddle with tissues.

Today she’ll live for them. Tomorrow she might live to try her father’s new recipe of cinnamon macarons. Last Tuesday she lived to hear Luka’s new song. Next month she might live just to pat the stray kitten that lives in the alley behind the Chinese restaurant two streets over.

++++++++++

Five hundred and twenty days after

She froze at the sight before her. Thinking it was another hallucination or she was having another nightmare. “You thought,” The glass in her hand cracked under her grip. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening. She hasn’t disassociated this much since the day he ‘died’.” That by faking your death, you could find out who you could rely on?”

“TT, yes. Now that I know everything can go back to the way it was.” She swigged her glass again, wishing it were whiskey instead of water. When they had met, Jon and his family had warned her that he was severely emotional constipated from his upbringing but this was in the psychopathic area of emotionless.

“No.”

“What?” His shock almost seems real. His eyes had widened and his body language was unsteady.

“No, we aren’t done talking about this! How ignorant do you have to be to think this won’t affect our relationship? Won’t affect me?”

“It wasn’t real. I’m here.” He stepped forward, arms rising to hug her. He never was one for physical contact. She pulled back, grabbing a steak knife and placing it between them. He told her he had set the place aflame. He found the lead for the trafficking ring. He planned it all. And now he was back, almost a year and a half later.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt! I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life! How selfish, how, how stupid do you have to be to not consider what it does to someone who cared about you?!”

“Cared?”

“Do I need to spell it out? We’re done. I don’t want to see you ever again,” She seethed. “You think everything can go back to how it was before? Well, it can’t. I spent months of my life mourning over a guy who wasn’t even dead. Who didn’t even care about me enough not to toy with my emotions. My life isn’t a game Damian!”

“I only did this because I thought—”

“I don’t care. Get out. Out of my house. Out of my life. Just get out.”

“I didn’t intend to hurt you, I just wanted to know.” Hot, rage-filled tears ran down her cheeks. She jabbed the knife at him, stopping inches before his chest. She had backed him down the stair and to the front door. Neither of her parents were home and he was more unpredictable than ever.

“I hope you can live with what you’ve done, le miel”

[fierypen37]

The Oasis: Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 Woken the dragon. Vis had always said that growing up, whenever she annoyed him—which was often. Now, staring down the barrel of his silver revolver, Daenerys felt another dragon wake inside her. A wild thing of rage and betrayal, ready to burn all who stood in her way. For herself. For Jon.

Viserys’s features were a narrower, masculine echo of her own. The expression he wore was one she recognized, composed but triumphant. Daenerys didn’t dare break eye contact, but she felt Ramsay looming behind her. On the edges of her periphery, she saw the car lurch and one, two, three bodyguards emerge. Ramsay jabbed the back of her head with the gun.

“Kneel,” he said. Daenerys did so. The bumpy asphalt dug into her knees. Five armed men twice her size and all she had was a two-bit nail.    

“Why?” she said, the word trembling in the air. Viserys’ face creased into a moue of displeasure.  

“I didn’t want all this, Dany. But you refused to cooperate.”

“Cooperate? What in the seven hells are you talking about?”              

“I thought you understood. The goal was to get it back, get everything back, no matter the cost!” Daenerys’ lips felt numb. She licked them, striving for patience, for calm. The tone she found was an old one, from when he would rage and throw things, railing at the unfairness of the world. A soothing medley.  

“To get our home back. I know, Vis. There’s been government red tape around Dragonstone. You’ve been to the meetings. We’re working on it.”

Dragonstone was their home, that was the thing that unified the two of them—the last Targaryens against the world.

“But the Dragon is mine! My birthright! A throne not meant for a sniveling girl who couldn’t keep her legs closed.” Gods, he was beyond his usual self-absorbed bullshit. This was some god-level projection coupled with delusions of grandeur. Daenerys went cold. Just like Dad. Still, the fire in her belly pushed words out before she could stopper them.  

“Dragon is mine, Vis. I built it. With my sweat and blood, I built it from the ground up. Breaking Chains as well.”

“Everything that is yours is also mine. I made you,” he hissed and prodded her forehead with the barrel of the gun, “If only you’d cooperated. Daario would--”

“What does Daario have to do with--” she began. Viserys slapped her so hard her cheek tingled and her ear rang.

With sudden blinding clarity, she understood. Viserys had taken loans from Stormcrow and had—she clenched her eyes shut at the fresh wave of betrayal. Two hot tears eked out. Daario had taken her as payment. Why else would Daario look so confused when she broke it off? Why else would Viserys demand she return to him, no matter the circumstances?

“You sold me.” Vis was unmoved.

“It worked out fine for you, didn’t it? You were even going to marry him. It was Daario who gave me the idea. He kept whining about the increased expense of your security detail after the death threats from the Harpies. They’re nothing but Ghiscari scum, they had no real power to make good on those threats.” Viserys’s lilac eyes took on a glazed, feverish shine.

“But then—ah ha!—think of the news coverage. The philanthropist CEO, Daenerys Targaryen, dedicated to bettering the downtrodden, slain by very villains she fought. So tragic. So cinematic. Dragon’s stock would go through the roof! Televise the funeral, rake in donations, weep a little for the cameras, and then . . . Dragon is mine and only mine. As it should be.” The tinny taste of blood leaked from the opened cut in her lip.  

“You’re insane,” she whispered. Viserys’s eye twitched and he gestured. Ramsay hauled her up by her bound hands. Pain shrieked through her shoulders and she bit back a cry. Ramsay drew a long, wicked knife and set it at the base of her throat.

“Oh yes, sweetling. We’ll get to play,” he whispered in her ear. Viserys stalked closer, patting Daenerys’ cheek with deceptive gentleness.

“You made it very difficult for me. You and this Jon Snow. It was a stroke of luck Ramsay extracted the name out of that Lorathi woman before she died. Such a little slut, aren’t you? How long had you been fucking the masseuse? He trotted after his bitch like you were in heat. I staged it to echo Dad’s death. Dirty and pathetic in an alley. My origin story, right? After my sister, my only family, dies tragically, I take up the reins of the company. Then you thwarted me. I admit, the machine guns on Loom Street were a bit much, but I was just so angry. Selmy was a good man, I trusted him. I do regret that.”

“You shot him in the street like a godsdamned dog! He--” Ramsay grazed her throat suggestively with the knife and Daenerys swallowed her choler.

Viserys plunged on as if he hadn’t heard her. Perhaps he didn’t.

“And then poof--” he snapped his fingers, “you dropped off the face of the earth! It wasn’t until I found the footage. You and Snow were still together. You sunk your hooks in deep, you wicked girl. Still, it’s a big world, and Snow had connections to Stark wealth, nearly as prodigious and ancient as the Targaryen’s. Lucky for me, Ramsay is a northman too. Loathes the Starks.”

“Self-righteous cunts,” Ramsay agreed.

“He thought to look for something smaller, more remote. And there it is, plain as day on public record microfiche, a deed for a house billed to Eddard Stark—Jon Snow’s father.” Jon. Dead. Burned to ash. A fresh wave of grief buffeted her.          

“Viserys, please,” she croaked, “I’ll step down. I’ll cede Dragon to you, I swear it. Just don’t do this.” He had the gall to look sad about it. He bent and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry, sweet sister. It has to be this way.”

Daenerys glared him down. She tucked the nail between her fingers. There was only one chance to use it. She dragged in a deep breath, her heartbeat thudding loud in her ears. Wait. Wait for the right moment. Viserys snapped his fingers, gesturing for one of the burly guards. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger himself. The shadow of a snake.

“You are no dragon,” she said, mutinous.

Bam!

Bam bam!

Daenerys blinked dumbly as one of the bodyguards crumpled, bleeding from behind the ear. Viserys was cursing and shouting, ducking behind the remaining two, who shot blindly into the thick woods surrounding the tarmac. The noise and smoke filled her senses. Shots went wild, cutting holes in the sedan like cheese. Shattered glass tinkled on the ground. Ramsay cursed. He dropped his knife to draw his gun, yanking her tight against him.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?” he hissed in her ear. I wish. Even if there was a park ranger or police officer who happened by, they would have announced themselves. Her security team was hundreds of kilometers away. And Jon was—Daenerys bit her lip.

The gunfire ceased. Her ears rang from the noise. Daenerys craned her head to look for Viserys. She saw his expensive leather shoes beneath the shattered door of the car, cowering. Where were the guards?

“Got him, Boss!” a rough voice said. Him? Her mystery defender? Her knees gave out when the burly men emerged from the brush.

“Jon?”

 ~

 Fuck. He was a fucking idiot. The calvary was on its way, all he had to do was stall. He could have picked off another one of the thick-necked fuckers, scared that chickenshit Viserys into spooking. On the other hand, seeing a gun pointed at his heart-and-fucking-soul made him a little twitchy. Jon had pushed the Old Bear’s beat-up truck to its limits to reach the airstrip, praying his hunch would pay off. And now all it did was get him a front-row seat to watching Dany die.              

The hunting rifle jammed, but he’d broken one of the goon’s jaw for his trouble. The utility knife was rolled in his sock, not that it did him much good at the moment. Goons One and Two had his arms in a lock behind his back, dragging him down the shallow hill to the tarmac. Dany’s sobs tore already pulverized heart into tinier shreds.

“Jon, Jon, I thought you were dead!” she said, her voice thick with tears. Jon flicked his gaze over her from her braid to her ziptied wrists to her bare feet. A bit battered, but whole, still—thank the gods. He turned his baleful gaze on the source of their misery. Viserys—the skinny little fuck—sneered at Jon. What kind of sick fuck wanted to assassinate his own sister?

“The unkillable Jon Snow.” Starks are hard to kill, Dad always said.

“The chickenshit Viserys Targaryen,” Jon shot back. Viserys made a curt shooing gesture.

“Gods. Let’s get this over with before anything else goes wrong. It’s going to cost me a fortune to clean all this up.”

“Boss, can’t I just shave off a--” The bug-eyed fuck who held Dany brandished the knife, nicking the curve of her jaw. Dany gasped, and Jon saw red watching the blood seep from the cut.

“Come try and shave off a bit of me, you little shit!” Jon shouted, lunging. He made a show of thrashing around until Goon Two backhanded him hard. He tasted blood, his ear rang. Jon sagged in their grip, snagging the knife with his fingertips.

“Shut the fuck up!” Viserys bellowed, shocking them all into silence. He jabbed a finger at the bug-eyed fucker.

“Ramsay, we’ve been over this. If you’d pulled off the job like you were supposed to, my sweet sister would be yours to play with as long as you like. As it is, I need her dead. Now. We have a schedule to keep.”

“What about the boyfriend?” Goon One said. Viserys scowled.

“He’s a complication. If he’s here in one piece and armed, he’s called the authorities.” Jon allowed a grim smile. If they made it out of here, Viserys would spend the rest of his pathetic life staring at the walls of Iron Island Penitentiary.

“We better move fast,” Ramsay said gleefully. Viserys kicked aside the body of one of his guards, fishing a pistol from a pool of blood with a moue of distaste.

“Yes, exactly. Any last words, Daenerys?” he said. Daenerys looked at Jon and in her violet eyes, he saw everything he ever wanted. Home. Gods, she was so beautiful.

“I should have told you before. I love you,” she said.

And the world exploded.

 ~

 “I love you.”

Daenerys slammed the nail up and back with all of her strength. It stuck and Ramsay’s shriek rang in her ear.

“You fucking bitch!”

Daenerys ducked down, scrambling away from a staggering Ramsay. Gods. She’d been lucky. Through the sieve of his clutching fingers, she saw the head of the nail stuck in Ramsay’s left eye. Blood and snot poured down his cheeks from his blinded eyes. A flurry of movement. Jon, struggling with the remaining bodyguards. Viserys advanced on her.

“Gods, you’re such a troublesome little cunt! I’ll be glad to be rid of you!” Spittle clung to his lips, his face an inhuman rictus of rage. Daenerys crawled back on her hands and bare feet, feeling the hot bite of the shattered glass.

“Vis, please!” Daenerys screwed her eyes shut.

The loud rapport of the gun.

Bam! Bam! Two shots. A heavy weight landing hard on her. Daenerys snapped her eyes open.

Jon.

Jon: between her and Viserys.

Jon: sticking a knife in Viserys. A struggle. Jon was stronger, skilled. He wrenched the gun away from Viserys. Snaked an arm around his neck, squeezing. Vis fell facefirst. She heard a crunch.

“Dany,” Jon wheezed.

Jon: bleeding.

“Gods, Jon. Jon, you’re shot,” she whispered, pressing at the sticky red spot growing on his chest, awkward with her hands still bound. His breath was wet, rasping.

“Dany.”

Daenerys cast a wild glance around. It looked like a battlefield with destroyed car, dead bodyguards, Ramsay writhing and cursing, Viserys in an awkward heap. And Jon, her hero, her love, bleeding in her arms. Blood made his shirt sticky, another wound in his thigh. No, no, no. She had nothing, nothing but her empty hands to help him.

“It’s ok, Jon. You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be fine,” she said, frantic. She’d seen the world without him. A bleak, lonely stretch of empty road. She couldn’t go back to that. Panic kept inching up her throat, strangling her. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks.

Daenerys looped her arms around his shoulders and heaved him up to rest on her knees. Jon grunted in pain, though his breathing was better. His beautiful eyes were dark with pain.

“Dany. Dany . . .” His brows puckered in a familiar intent scowl. She bent and rained kisses on his face, wishing there was more to do to help.

“Shh, don’t talk. Just focus on—”

“Dany, I love you. I was a . . . a coward before. I love you. Marry me.” There was barely enough breath to push the words out. A weak sob escaped her. Faintly, she heard the peal of a siren.

“Hold on, Jon. Help is coming! I love you, Jon. I love you. Hold on!”

He closed his eyes and Dany clutched him close.  

[bishops-severed-torso]

Top movie recs for procrastination?

This is an incredibly vague request because I watch the same movies when I'm procrastinating as when I'm not.

To respond to this incredibly vague request, I'm going to go with stuff that is interesting/engaging enough to distract you from your work, but isn't straight-up horror or incredibly stressful, because I'm assuming you're already stressed enough from procrastinating.

So based on that criteria, have a variety:

Star Wars (because you gotta)

Hot Fuzz

The Martian

LOTR

Jurassic Park but not the sequels which are terrible

Inglourious Basterds

The Dead Zone

Source Code

Pacific Rim but not the sequel which is terrible

Edge of Tomorrow

Moon

Harry Potter (if you don't already own these, make sure to either pirate them or get them second hand)

What We Do In The Shadows

Boss Level

Ex Machina

Happy Death Day and also the second one

Your go-to mcu movie

Snatch

Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

The first two Terminator movies

Odd Thomas

Back to the Future

Upgrade

Frequency

The Guy Ritchie Sherlock Holmes movies

The Matrix

Hellboy and the second one

Independence Day

The Lost Boys

RED and RED 2

Knives Out

Detective Pikachu

Shazam!

Jumanji

Paycheck

The Commuter

National Treasure and the second one

[jiyaneknu]

ne izlesek ?

braveheart

v for vendetta

interstellar

inception

leon

man from earth

amelie

django

into the wild

hateful eight

inglourious basterds

killer instinct

papillon

shutter island

silence of the lambs

guguk kuşu

schindler’s list

green way

the pianist

the best of youth

rain man

scent of a woman

green book

intouchables

the machinist

trainspotting

la haine

city of god

amores perros

stonning of soraya

capharnaum

turtles can fly

time for drunken horses

song of sparrows

marmoulak

children of heaven

incendies

blood diamond

seventh seal

detachment

persona

dekalog

eternity of a day

black

midnight in paris

mandariinid

the skin i live in

spirited away

persepolis

fountain

predestination

üç renk-mavi,beyaz,kırmızı

rezervuar dogs

lock stock and two smoking barrels

kill bill

ex machina

relatos salvajes

usual suspects

talk to her

snatch

scarface

catch me if you can

bourne serisi

source code

dark knigt

gone girl

the departed

wolf of the wall street

the lives of others

12 angry man

the way back

12 years a slave

the prestige

pulp fiction

pursuit of happiness

seven pounds

i am legend

fight club

memento

matrix

seven

life is beatiful

oldboy

gravity

collateral

edge of tomorrow

the game

upgrade

enigma

the martian

revenant

the best offer

cloud atlas

mystic river

fury

thin red line

dancer in dark

the wind that shakes barley

land and freedom

the godfather

law abiding citizen

edge of tomorrow

the great hack

contratiempro

captain fantastic

the professor

american beauty

boyhood

there will be blood

parasite

the ballad of buster scruggs

[fire-the-headcanons]

Gungnir's blast rolled like thunder through the trees, electric Dust round streaking toward the Ursa Major in a glowing trail of sparks. The massive Grimm stumbled and collapsed as smoke billowed from cracks in its faceplate. Another shot felled a second, smaller target.

 Raven darted forward straight at the remaining five. Alerted, they searched for the source of either the noise or the thin scent of apprehension in the air.

 One spotted her, rearing on its hind legs with a powerful roar and exposing its unarmored belly. Without thinking her hand squeezed the trigger of the Guillotine's sheath and a blade shot out with a ringing crash. Great spikes of ice erupted from the bear's fur, twisting its form into a grotesque pose before it faded to nothing. Three dead.

 A second barrelled toward her, bellowing in rage or hunger, and Raven lashed out with her sword. The air split, and the bear vanished.

 Gungnir sounded again. Four.

 Qrow's shotgun echoed the blast, almost drowning out the snapping of branches and roar of the Ursa as it plummeted fifty feet from his treetop perch to the forest floor below. The fall wouldn't be enough to finish it, but Tai was waiting. Five...

Follow the Beacon Raven—Golden Dragon

[Link to Masterpost]

Gungnir's blast rolled like thunder through the trees, electric Dust round streaking toward the Ursa Major in a glowing trail of sparks. The massive Grimm stumbled and collapsed as smoke billowed from cracks in its faceplate. Another shot felled a second, smaller target.

Raven darted forward straight at the remaining five. Alerted, they searched for the source of either the noise or the thin scent of apprehension in the air.

One spotted her, rearing on its hind legs with a powerful roar and exposing its unarmored belly. Without thinking her hand squeezed the trigger of the Guillotine's sheath and a blade shot out with a ringing crash. Great spikes of ice erupted from the bear's fur, twisting its form into a grotesque pose before it faded to nothing. Three dead.

A second barrelled toward her, bellowing in rage or hunger, and Raven lashed out with her sword. The air split, and the bear vanished.

Gungnir sounded again. Four.

Qrow's shotgun echoed the blast, almost drowning out the snapping of branches and roar of the Ursa as it plummeted fifty feet from his treetop perch to the forest floor below. The fall wouldn't be enough to finish it, but Tai was waiting. Five...

They needed a second to ensure it wasn't getting up. Raven flipped back, away from the last two—make that one, as Summer fired agai—

Her side erupted in agony, and then a blow to her left shoulder, right knee, her head. The world was nothing but red and she screamed, and louder as something clamped her neck and the arm thrown up to protect it. Weight slammed into her back, the vice wrenched, tightened. Her aura drained like blood from an artery and with the last of it she reached for her brother—

One final, smaller impact and the pressure released. She crawled away, still blind, screaming again at the searing heat of cracked ribs knitting together—and the world cleared as her aura failed. A pace behind, the Ursa Major growled at Qrow and snapped its teeth, smoke still trickling from its skull.

“RUN!" he screamed, eyes locked on the bear. It roared and swiped at him with a paw larger than both of Tai's shields. Raven scuttled backward as he dodged and it ploughed into the dirt with a heavy thud. "DEAL!“

"Wait!" Lurching to her feet, Raven turned and staggered away. He must not have seen her aura break or he wouldn't dare boost his Semblance now. "It was playing dead! It's older than we thought!" Raven clutched her side as she ran. The thing had dragged her halfway across the clearing and Guillotine was back where she'd started.

"They can do that?" Tai demanded, smoke trailing from his gauntlets as he tore past. Gungnir's arrow sank into its shoulder before pulling free a moment later, unable to dig in far enough to get purchase.

Raven seized her scabbard and took aim. Qrow swung at the thing's neck, sword bouncing off its matted fur and barely cutting in at all.

"FOLD!" Raven shouted, giving him a chance to shut off his Semblance before firing. It shattered on the bear's armored hide, clumping ice on its pelt, and the Grimm whirled to face her with a snarl. Tai leapt forward, directing all of his momentum into its ear.

Summer dropped from the tree, emptying her magazine of electric rounds one bullet at a time. "What are you doing?! You're out of aura!"

"We've got this!" Tai kept attacking, golden flames licking around him with every blow, pouring down his back almost like wings. It gave up trying to bat at him and just lunged, slamming into him—the fire dissipated instantly as staggered.

Qrow took the distraction as an opportunity to spray its skull with buckshot. The Grimm roared again, charging forward blindly, and he disappeared under its paws with a surprised yelp.

"NO!" The last ice blade clicked into the handle and Raven drew as she charged back in, right knee throbbing with every step.

Tai slammed all his weight into the thing's chin, smoke swirling around them both, and it staggered back. Qrow gasped as its foot lifted from his chest and then screamed as a foreleg landed on his bad shoulder. The Grimm seemed to notice he was there, blinking down with its three remaining eyes, opening its mouth to bite.

Raven leapt forward, ramming her sword as far down its throat as she could reach, trusting her vambrace to keep her arm from being shredded by its teeth. The hilt disengaged with a brush of the trigger and she jumped back. She couldn't activate the Dust without aura, but it would have to break as the bear moved—

—but Tai followed through, ramming one gauntleted hand into the end of the blade. Ice erupted through the Ursa's fur to mingle with the bony spines, stabbing it through in a dozen places. Raven grabbed her brother and dragged him back as it roared in pain. Icicles snapped as it shook violently, smoke pouring from the wounds.

Summer turned away from the Grimm to scream at the twins. "Get ba—"

"What do we have to do to kill this thing?!" Tai shrieked, catching a paw on his combined shields before it could flatten her. She dove around him to jab Gungnir's point into another glowing eye and stepped smoothly back behind his shield as it retaliated.

Qrow staggered to his feet, sword in his left hand, and swung at the thing's neck. The shotgun barrels rotated into position, and he pulled the trigger at the last moment to drive the blade home with the recoil. It cut much deeper than before despite his weakened state.

It turned toward them, but Raven was ready. A bolt of lightning—blinding compared to the sparks of Summer's bullets—struck its side from the scabbard, shattering on its thick skin, and she yanked Qrow back again as the beast seized.

Tai leapt forward, shields folding away, and slammed a fist into its cracked faceplate.

Flames roared from his hands as he kept up the barrage, easily dodging its exhausted swipes and snaps. His wings reignited with a flash, whirling around the pair of them, and he brought both fists down on its head. The bone finally split and the Ursa disappeared in a haze of smoke and sparks.

Qrow froze where he'd sprawled on the ground, staring wide-eyed at the Huntsman and still clutching his shoulder. "Whoa."

“Well, that’s my Semblance," Tai said cheerfully, stretching. Golden flecks faded from his eyes with the last of the flames. “The more hits I dish out during a fight, the stronger I get—especially if I can get a rhythm to resonate. But it resets when I take dama—”

"What were you thinking?!" Summer demanded, stepping him and the two of them, hands tightening on her spear.

Oh gods. Oh gods they knew and they were just waiting for their chance and now her aura was gone and Qrow couldn't use his right arm—she couldn't open a portal and they'd never escape the Huntress on foot, she didn't even need to chase them when she could just shoot them both before they even made it out of the clearing—

Summer's eyes widened. "S-sorry." Gungnir collapsed with a flick of her wrist.

"The fight's over, Raven." Qrow took her arm, gently pushing it down. Her sword—she was holding her sword up like she was going to fight the Huntress. It fell from her hands with a gasp like it had burned. Wait—no—she'd just threatened them, given everything away, she needed her weapon—

Tai rubbed his eyes. "We shouldn't have sent you in there alone. Sorry, that was a stupid idea."

"And I should have put both rounds into the Major like you said…"

"Raven?" Qrow's hand moved to her other shoulder, wrapping his arm around her back, pulling her toward him.

Coddling.

“I'm fine," she snapped, stepping out of his half-embrace to collect her fallen sword, shoving it in the sheath with a quiet snick before turning north and striding away. "We should get out of here before we're attacked again."

"Wha— wait!" Tai shouted, leaves crunching under his boots as he ran toward her. Raven reached one hand into her belt, to the concealed handle of her knife— "At least let us walk in front, come on!" Her step faltered, and he passed before turning to face her again. "I'm really sorry. We won't ask you to do that again."

What?

She'd always gone in alone. Ever since she was seven, it was logical. She could get out of danger with a single step or summon backup if she got pinned. It's what she was for.

"Hey, don't look like that! I'm not gonna get us lost when we're following that ," he laughed, pointing up at the cliffs just barely visible through the canopy above them. "Give me some credit!"

"I'll bring up the rear," Summer said, re-extending her rifle but clipping the arrow to her belt so she could use the stock. "You're pretty beat up too, Qrow. You okay? What's going on with your shoulder?"

"Eh, I'll be fine in a few minutes," he said, casually clipping his sword to his back left-handed. “An Ursa kind of landed on it."

"That sword upgrade sure came in handy."

"Well…" his voice lifted like it always did when he talked about the damn thing. "It's not really an upgrade since it's an entirely different sword. We used the old one as a blueprint 'cause I liked the shape."

Raven stared him down, expressionless. "It still seems overcomplicated to me."

He fell silent.

Next Chapter: Summer—Hint

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Lock, stock, the razzafrackin' lot.

Yosemite Sam

[bohrapbois]

Full Marks

CHAPTER 2

Description - Ben just so happens to fall head over heels for a Mysterious Man who loves baseball and cracking terrible jokes. Mysterious Man also turns out to be the father of one of Ben’s students.

Warnings - Full blown relationship Hardzello, with plenty of angst, fluff and future smut.

Word Count- 2,152 

Frankie was the love of Ben’s life, and he would do anything short of murder for her. She was the only girl in the states who had his heart, and that’s the way it’ll always be, until the day he died. It didn’t matter that she was a dog, she had him wrapped around her little paw. That’s how she was currently eating packaged ham, which was meant to be saved for Ben’s dinner. But honestly, the way her eyes lit up each time he tossed her some more, Ben didn’t care if he starved. His baby was happy, so he was happy too.

It was early afternoon, sometime after two, and Ben had just finished his marathon of Brooklyn-Nine-Nine, so it was time to walk off some of the Doritos and burn through some of the coffee he just gulped down. Unlike most dogs, who get excited when they see their leash in their owner’s hands, Frankie either hid or stood stock still. This time, she sprinted through the cramped kitchen and ducked under the wonky coffee table. Ben sighed, leash in hand, and contributed to the five minute chase of catching his dog to go for a walk. The funny thing is, Frankie loves walks, and will take forever doing her business and tugging Ben after any animal she sees, but she just doesn’t like the leash. Adopting her as a stray pup from Animal Ark, Ben thought it’d be easy, a little companion for when his mind goes to those dark places. Gwil thought it was a good idea too, which is why he kept the little pup found in a cardboard box to one side until his friend could come in and see her. But it turns out, along with a pup comes a lot of chaos. So under a year worth of mayhem later, the household has accepted to go with the flow of the furballs destruction.

Finally clipping her leash to her collar, Ben cheered in victory. He grabbed his keys from the mess on the side table, and before Frankie could tug herself free, they both were outside and the front door locked behind them. Ben grinned down at his companion, who glared back before changing moods completely and darting off, knowing Ben would rather sprint alongside her than tug on her collar. So, the two were down the street and well on their way to the big park before anyone really noticed.

As feet and paws moved from tarmac to grass, they slowed, both panting and taking a moment to get their breathes back. It was a mutual thing, for them to get to the park and begin walking, so Ben didn’t mind the sprint to get there. His fitness was well maintained, anyway.

The two strolled, Ben nattering down to the beagle as if they were having a normal conversation. The park was big enough that no one found it overly weird to see a grown man talking to his dog. Ben knew it was a bad habit, but he tugged out a cigarette and his trusty lighter, and continued his train of thought whilst he smoked. Frankie didn’t care, even if Gwil tried again and again to throw his packs away. It was good source of comfort and helped him think when he was deep in his own mind.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Franks,” Ben kicked at the dirt, one eye on his dog (investigating under a bush) and the other on a baseball game going on in the distance. When he first came over, Ben never really understood the hype surrounding baseball, and didn’t really now either. It was similar to a game he used to play called rounders, so Ben guessed that seeing another variation of the game wasn’t actually that exciting.

He drew a smoke, holding it in for moment before blowing the smoke out, repeating the process as he watched the teams swap side. This town was big on baseball, and there was usually a game of sorts going on every weekend. The participants of this match seemed good enough, coordinating shirts colours into greens and reds, with reds now fielding.

Ben gave a gentle tug on Frankie’s leash, and she came out from under the bush, covered up to her chest in dirt and dust but that’s a future Ben problem. Now Ben problem is how he wants to get closer to the game. Taking slow drags from his cigarette, Ben wandered over, trying to make sense on how certain balls were called fouls. He frowned, dropping his cigarette on the floor and stamping it out. Oddly, Frankie stayed near his side, and when they were close enough, his little lady sat down, also seemed transfixed by the game. For a couple of minutes, they just watched. The greens were pretty good, and both teams seemed to be taking it very seriously. Ben wasn’t close enough to see who was actually on what team, but he could hear the shouts of excitement/annoyance. He heard someone curse out Dave, who was a barista in ‘Delilah’ (Alright coffee, let dogs in, so Ben would sometimes go there when he didn’t know what else to do), and watching Dave run, yep, that's barista Dave.

The old bleachers seemed to have a few families on, and Ben thought he could make out Lucy’s blonde hair. Another vet, she and Gwil got on well, like brother and sister. She seemed to be there with her mysterious boyfriend she’d mentioned to Gwil a few times but never introduced. Ben’s nosy side flared up, and he started walking a bit closer, but not close enough to be spotted. Or so he thought.

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

Beth didn’t mind sitting and watching her dad play - he loved the game, and she did too - but sometimes she got distracted. Sitting with Uncle Rami and Lucy, she fiddled with the bottom of her shorts, pulling on a loose thread as she looked around, eyes cast out further than the game. There was someone standing far off and it looked like he had a dog. Beth perked up. She’d be asking her dad for a dog for awhile, and he was starting to agree with her, but if she showed that she was good, she knew she could get one quicker. She watched as they stood in the distance, but much to her delight, the figure started approaching. Beth was practically vibrating in her seat waiting until the perfect moment to prove to her dad that she is ready for a dog.

She bounds up, deciding now was better than ever, and jumped down the bleachers she’s grown up on. She ignores Uncle Rami shouting after her and makes it to the grass unstopped. She races across the ground, and notices that the owner is very familiar.

“Mr. Hardy!” She screamed in excitement, which caught both her teachers and fathers attention. She barrels on, her teacher looking shocked to see a six year old approaching rapidly in a full sprint.

Behind her, her father notices what’s going on, “ah shit,” he leaves his position. His daughter is quick, always has been, and it was at this moment that Joe wished he was quicker. She was sprinting towards a mysterious figure, and his fear kicked in.

“ELIZABETH!” He screamed, legs picking up pace in a desperate attempt to catch up with her. The shouts from his team mates (he missed the ball thrown in his direction, more concerned with his own flesh and blood) were only a second thought as he watched his daughter barrel into the legs of the blond man. The man stumbled, Beth still holding his legs, before he fell backwards, landing heavily on his ass.

Eventually, the frantic father got to the two still on the floor. He scooped up his daughter, “Elizabeth! What were you thinking?” He checked her over, ignoring her muttered, “it’s Beth, dad,” before putting her back down and turning his attention to the guy on the floor.

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

Ben only had a moment to brace himself after hearing one of his students scream his name before Beth barrelled full speed into his legs. He managed to stumble backwards before falling onto his backside, grunting his curses as he took the full weight of a six year old to his knees and groin. Frankie ran around him, pulling at her leash in confusion and panic, before Ben reached over and grabbed her close, counting up to ten before trying to move. He ached, but would survive, although he’s not planning on moving too much right at the moment.

Beth was pulled off of him, and Ben just focused on breathing and petting Frankie, before he felt a weight on his shoulder. “You alright, man?” Ben glanced up at the new voice, and gasped.

Mystery Man from yesterday was kneeling beside him. Hazel eyes scanned the blonds face, and Ben couldn’t help but notice how when Mystery Man frowned, he pouted. “Umm-” Ben pulled Frankie onto his lap as she began to settle “-yeah, just a bit sore”. Using his dog as an excuse, Ben focused on stroking Frankie, eyes falling onto her knowing eyes. If he hadn’t, he’d have definitely done something stupid.

“I’m so sorry for Elizabeth,” Mystery Man stood, silencing his complaining child with a well measured glance, “she can just get a bit excitable”.

“Nah, it’s alright man,” Ben inwardly cringed Why the hell did I call him ‘man’? The first hot guy in ages and you ‘man’ him. Fucking great. “She’s one of my students, actually”.

“Oh!” Ben pulled his eyes from Frankie’s incredibly interesting fur and squinted up at Mystery Man. He seemed pleasantly excited, smiling at his daughter (who was now holding his hand) and back at Ben, “Beth told me she had a new teacher! I’m Joe, her dad!” He thrusted forward his free hand, and for an awkward moment, Ben didn’t move to take it. Kicking himself again, Ben gently pushed Frankie off his lap and reached up and grabbed Joe’s hand. Joe didn’t hesitate and pulled Ben up until he was standing.

Joe was slightly shorter than Ben, but well built. Not muscular, but not scrawny either. Ben smiled, and faked enough confidence to shake his hand. “Ben”. Joe’s hair was hidden under a baseball cap, but enough was curling around his ears that Ben knew his observation from yesterday was true - yes, they both had the same hair colour. It seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.

“That’s a lot better than me calling you ‘Mr. Hardy’ in my head. Imagined you to be in your late forties or something,” Joe laughed, and the two hands separated. “Ben suits you”.

“Oh, um, thanks?” Ben laughed awkwardly, not knowing if to take the fact his name suits him as a compliment or not. “Yeah, better than calling you Mr. Mazzello”.

“Ew, don’t”. Joe rolled his eyes, ignoring his daughter who was now pulling on his hand as she crouched to pet Frankie, who, honestly, loved having a kids attention. “Mr. Mazzello was my father’s name”.

“Joe it is”. Ben grinned, glancing over to the baseball match. They all seemed to be calling for Joe to return. At the same time, the usual guy who picks up Beth was approaching, stopping by Joe’s side.

“Beth! Don’t ever run off like that again!” Green eyes crouched down, gently grabbing the little girl by the chin and pulling her to face his direction, “you can’t just do that! I was very scared”. Beth pouted, but nodded, wrapping little arms around the guys neck. He scooped her up, holding her close. It was only then when he turned to Ben. “Hey,” he nodded, looking between Ben and Joe.

“Oh, ugh yeah! This is Rami,” Joe gestured towards Green eyes, and Ben smiled in greeting. “He usually picks up Beth”.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around a few times,” Ben kicked at the ground before nodding back towards the game. “You better go back”.

“Yeah,” Joe sighed, raising his arm towards his team. They seemed to settle, going back to talking between themselves rather than shouting at Joe. Rami nodded towards the two before walking off with Beth in his arms, the two talking about responsibilities. “You gonna come watch? We have a few more rounds to go”.

“Nah, better not,” again, Frankie sat calmly at Ben’s side, lazily blinking up between her owner and the new man. Ben gestured at his dog, “she’s had enough excitement for one day”.

“She’s very cute,” Joe ducked down to give her a scratch behind her ears. Great - even Ben’s dog likes Joe now. Ben grinned as Joe stood up again, and with a raised hand as a farewell, Joe started jogging backwards, only turning around when Ben tugged on Frankie’s leash and the two made their way back home.

Tag List -

@benhardy-1 @hey-holtzy

[bbclesmis]

Exclusive Track & Interview: 28 Days Later composer John Murphy’s “Les Misérables”

Check out this exclusive premiere of John Murphy's "Les Misérables" from the BBC/PBS's Masterpiece Les Misérables now. This version is very close to Victor Hugo's original novel, and hence is not a musical. The soundtrack will be available May 3.' Murphy also dishes on the challenges of scoring such a huge, epic, and sweeping story (and a lot more) in the interview below.

Exclusive premiere: John Murphy's "Les Misérables" from Masterpiece's Les Misérables Lakeshore Records is set to release the original soundtrack to the critically-acclaimed BBC/PBS Masterpiece mini-series Les Misérables, written by composer John Murphy (28 Days Later, Sunshine, Kick-Ass). Check out our interview with Murphy and the exclusive song directly below this article. Les Mis the album will be released digitally on May 3 with CD and vinyl versions forthcoming.

This Les Mis is NOT a musical; in fact, it is relatively faithful to the source novel. It premiered April 14 on PBS, but all episodes can be watched with PBS Passport.

Les Misérables is a six-part drama adaptation starring Dominic West (The Affair) as Jean Valjean, and David Oyelowo (Selma) as Javert in this landmark take on a classic, timeless, and sweeping story. They are joined by Lily Collins (Rules Don’t Apply), in the role of Fantine.

With a striking intensity and relevance to us today, Victor Hugo's novel is a testimony to the struggles of France’s underclass and how far they must go to survive. The six-part television adaptation of the renowned book vividly and faithfully brings to life the vibrant and engaging characters, the spectacular and authentic imagery and, above all, the incredible yet accessible story that was Hugo’s lifework.

The distinguished British cast includes Adeel Akhtar (The Night Manager) and Academy Award winner Olivia Colman (The Favourite) as Monsieur and Madame Thénardier, Ellie Bamber (Nocturnal Animals) as Cosette, Josh O'Connor (The Durrells in Corfu) as Marius and Erin Kellyman (Raised By Wolves) as Éponine.

Liverpool born John Murphy began scoring movies at the age of 25. In 2001, following the success of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, he moved to Los Angeles.

Since then he has worked with some of the industry's most respected and luminary filmmakers, including Danny Boyle, Guy Ritchie, Stephen Frears, Matthew Vaughn and Michael Mann, producing film scores as prominent and diverse as Sunshine, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Miami Vice, Snatch, Kick-Ass, and the seminal 28 Days Later.

Murphy's movie trailers include: Captain America: Winter Soldier, Gravity, X-Men: Origins, Cloverfield, War of the Worlds, Cowboys and Aliens, Blindness, Ex Machina, Southpaw, X-Men: Days of Future Past, and Avatar. His music has been featured in advertising campaigns for Nike, Audi, Microsoft, Louis Vuitton, Samsung, Google, and Apple.

After Kick-Ass, Murphy set up the record label Taped Noise and began work on several non-movie projects. BBC/PBS Masterpiece Theatre's Les Misérables is his latest project.

Les Misérables director Tom Shankland wanted John to tell a fresh musical story and to ultimately create a raw and uncompromising score to reflect the trials and misery of "Les Misérables." John describes the scoring process as an "experimental journey."

Initially, Tom wanted a gritty, folk-oriented score, but as they began the process, he and John quickly realized that the story would need a broader musical palette. John ended up incorporating less obvious elements such as bowed electric guitar, analog synths, experimental viola, and backwards loops, with a nod to the classic French romantic scoring of the '60s. Despite mixing instrumentation, the elements fused and the sensibility stayed true throughout.

John described the scoring process further:

"My original idea for the score to Les Mis was '1816 Velvet Underground meets '60s French film music.' While director Tom [Shankland] was thinking 'gnarly, down in the dirt, French folk music.' Producer Chris Carey suggested, 'let's do both, but throw in some vintage analog synths.' I then gleefully tried all of these elements, often at the same time. And we discovered that you can actually mix a hurdy gurdy with a Moog Sub Phatty, and we loved it. And what started out as a musical standoff, became our score for Les Misérables."

Interview: John Murphy

Hello John and welcome!

Hey Wess. Good to talk with you!

Likewise. To start things off, what attracted you to this telling of Les Mis as a project? I really appreciated how it was based on Hugo's novel, and not a musical. The novel, in my opinion, does not get enough praise.

Yeah, sadly the musical has pretty much hijacked this great novel. I read it in my early twenties. I was a session player back then and I spent a lot of time on tour buses, so I got through a lot of reading. Aside from all the ideas and themes, it's a great story – hope, despair, sacrifice, redemption, all the good stuff. I loved it.

I read it when I was in my twenties as well. Such a great novel.

So when the call came in, I did some Skype meetings with the director Tom Shankland and producer Chris Carey, and they were so passionate about it, and so hell-bent on going back to the source, the book I loved. I knew I had to do it.

That's fantastic. I was hoping we could get an idea of your overall creative process on the project. It really is very sweeping in the emotions of the story and the history it covers.

Well I've really only ever done movies so I knew the production process would be different. For example, before they started shooting I had to write a lot of the in-camera music they needed to shoot to; the scene with the band in the pimp's den, Cosette's piano pieces, Gavroche's song when he runs out to collect the bullets, that kind of thing.

Oh wow.

Which was cool because I'd never done that before. And then there was a big break while they filmed and put together the episodes. So rather than sit around and wait, I started sketching out themes and ideas from the script, which is actually way more creative than writing to picture. But having this pot of ideas was a life saver because, when the episodes finally did come, they came thick and fast.

But the actual creative process wasn't too different from scoring a film. I always write the themes first, and I try to write them away from picture. And then I'll work to picture and write the featured cues, the montages, the chases, that kind of thing. And then you're down to the underscore cues and you're just connecting the dots really.

Interesting process John. What were the challenges like?

I think the biggest challenge was time. Even though I had ideas sketched out for most of the themes, there's only so much you can do until they give you locked picture. And when the final locked cuts started coming, I had about 20 days per episode from start to delivery. And this is when I would score everything in, write the underscore, record the soloists, and mix the tracks ready for the dub. There was usually about forty cues and forty minutes of music per episode. So there were a few long nights!

Were there huge differences between Les Mis as a project and working on your more conventional titles like 28 Days Later? You've scored quite a bit in the horror realm.

I've actually only scored a few horror films. They just tend to be the ones people remember!

[Laughs] good point. I was thinking just relative to other composers I've talked to…

Because of the musical, there's kind of a skewed perception of Les Miserables. But a lot of the book is actually very dark. And, for whatever reason, I find it much easier to work with darker material.

I find myself attracted to darker art as well; not just film.

For me, it's just a deeper well to draw from. So even though it's based upon an historic work I never felt like I was writing outside of my own instincts. At the end of the day, whatever the scale, it all comes down to ideas, story and characters.

Absolutely. Any memorable or funny moments that stick out from that behind the scenes process of scoring the series?

There were, but none I could mention! [Laughs]

[Laughs] fair enough. A question I ask most everybody: what scores and films have molded you most as an artist?

I think the first time I became aware that movies used music was in A Fistful of Dollars. I must have been six or seven and it was on TV one night. I remember thinking why is there music playing? Where is it coming from? After that I started listening for it when I watched movies. So, I think my love for [Ennio] Morricone started there. And after that it was the James Bond movies, and the great John Barry themes. Another film composer I love to this day. I was just a kid, but I remember getting hyped up whenever I heard that guitar riff. A few years later, when I started to play a few things, I discovered Bernard Herrmann.

Psycho always stands out for me when I think of a great score. It may be cliché to say but it is true.

I couldn't fathom how he could make music that was so dark and so beautiful at the same time. I'd never heard anything like it and it blew me away. It was like magic.

So, those three made more of an impression on me than any specific movies. Thinking about it now it's probably why I'm so theme-heavy today. Because those guys definitely knew how to write a theme.

That they did. One other big question which is sort of related, what makes a great score?

That's such a difficult question and I don't think there's a definitive answer. But if it truly moves you and takes you somewhere else, then it's doing something right.

Well said. Last, what's next for you?

Well, Les Mis was like doing six movies back to back, so I won't be jumping into another big project just yet! I'm going to mess around with one of my own projects for a few months and then see what's around. Maybe a cool little indie where I get to play everything myself!

https://www.thefourohfive.com/film/article/exclusive-track-interview-28-days-later-composer-john-murphy-s-les-miserables-155