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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

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2. twisted

The cartoon that came out of the machine was pretty as a picture, perfect in almost every detail, and had a bubbly, positive personality. But she was not what Joey had wanted Susie to become. (Set in an AU where Joey gets perfect toons from his freshly killed employees and STILL isn’t happy, the unpleasable bitch…)

“Progress report to GENT home office, Client; Joey Drew Studios.

With the addition of the new ink recipe to use in the machine, we have made an unbelievable leap in progress and have almost met our client’s expectations. What had started as a machine to mold life sized figures out of ink has now done things that border on being supernatural.

Although Mr. Drew seems unimpressed, even frustrated with the results at times, in spite of the fact that the models have come out identical to their cartoon counterparts.

The process of running the cartoon film through the machine for the figures to imprint on has been successful, but it looks like that unless someone goes through the trouble of making a short that only has ONE character in it, the machine picks what character it makes at seemingly random. That is our client’s complaint; that instead of being user chosen, the machine picks out which living, breathing, thinking ink models it makes at random. Upon working on this, if I were to be in the client’s shoes, I’d have several valid complaints regarding the machine and the models it created, but our client’s complaint… Is that the machine that doesn’t have a system that allows the user to pick and choose which model it makes yet creates a physically flawless model every single time, does not allow the user to pick and choose which model it makes. He never ceases to infuriate me.

On a sour note, there was an incident with the figure in the likeness of a character called ‘The Brute’. Upon its creation, it immediately went and broke our client’s leg in a very… well, brutal fashion too. But fortunately, it has not physically attacked anyone since The Cameraman figure was made as we have threatened to separate them if it keeps up that behavior. It still likes to insult people, and it still does things that unnerve me though. We’re hoping that the rest of the figures will be less violent and or creepy.”

Thomas clicked off the recording and sighed as he looked at the newly made report, there was no way he could submit this to his boss without someone sending in someone to make sure he wasn’t huffing in ink fumes and whatever the Studio workers smoked to consider any of this to be normal.

“Hey Tommy! I think I figured out the issue with the machine! Or rather, its fuel.”

The mechanic grit his teeth and turned to face his client.

“What? I wasn’t aware that there was a problem with it.”

“Why, Tommy, how could you forget? I’m talking about the figure deposit problem of course! Why did we get The Brute when we wanted to get Boris? Why did we get Cameraman when we wanted Bendy? The answer was so simple, why, it was even staring at us the entire time!”

“Uh huh…” Thomas did not look convinced. “And what was this issue?”

“The ingredients, the Ink of course! You simply can’t put blueberry pancake batter in an oven and be surprised when you get blueberry pancakes instead of blueberry muffins, We got those two knuckleheads before we got the real stars of the show because the souls used to make them weren’t fit to make those two, but the machine still did what it does best: made living cartoons.”

Tom had an uneasy feeling in his gut as Joey grabbed his arm and led him to the Ink Machine’s room. He felt like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, he KNEW what went down in there! He knew the other ingredients, not well, per say, but for long enough to judge them and their characters.

He didn’t shed a single tear when Sammy was used in it, in fact, he was rather pleased with the results before it started acting out like that. He and the music director were almost always at each other’s throats for one reason or another. If you asked him, the ex-musician was strange, rude, clearly mentally unstable, and sometimes even cruel. And even if he wasn’t, his physical health had declined so much over his time at the studio that it was obvious that he would die regardless of whether or not he was put in the machine. Feeding Sammy to that machine was an act of mercy, really, and even if it wasn’t, it served him right to become a- err, The Brute and have him put the former musician in his place- put his villainous ways to a decent cause. Now if only someone could ensure for a fact that The Brute would behave...

Now the other ingredient, Norman Polk, was a different story. The man was old, weird and kinda creepy. On the surface, the man was an ideal candidate. Like Sammy, he would die anyway and nobody would miss him when he did. But on the contrary, he seemed like he still had some good years left in him. And while he was weird and creepy, he had been those things in an oddly endearing way that most of the studio had either liked or tolerated enough to not be bugged by it. The mechanic didn’t know how to explain it, that man reminded Tom of a mysterious, mostly-estranged relative that shows up out of nowhere and was always there for you even if you don’t always see him. So when the man snooped too much for his own good and had to be silenced… Tom could never look the resulting toon in the eye, or in his case, the lens.

But the mechanic couldn’t deny that it needed to be done, after all, the former projectionist was far too nosy for anyone’s sake. Nobody who knows the secret of the Ink Machine (or rather, it’s unconventional secret ingredient needed for its ink) should be free to wander the studio and spill the beans.

And a feeling in his gut was beginning to tell him that that was why he was the next on the chopping block.

He had built it, he learned what it would take to make it work, he had done what it took to make it work, and it was working now; No more models that would only move a tiny bit before collapsing into puddles! No more off model models! No more issues aside from x, y, z… -No more reasons for Joey to keep him alive when it was now too dangerous to his business…

A tiny voice at the back of his head told him it served him right. The creator of this unholy torture device would now be consumed by it, just like how the maker of the Brazen Bull was the first victim it claimed.

At this point, he was almost morbidly curious on who or what the machine would make him; would it poke fun at his past and make him that territorial junkyard guard, Canoodle? Would it ironically punish him for his greed by making him The Fat Cat of the show, Boswell Lotsobucks? Would it acknowledge that although he was a villain to the bitter end, he still tried to go clean only for demons to drag him back down his dark paths and make him into Charley? Thinking about it, any butcher gang member would be a good enough fit really.

He was a mix of relieved, disappointed, and horrified when he was brought into the room and saw the unconscious voice actress of Alice Angel strapped to a mobile operating table. Joey seemed to ignore his reaction as he proudly showed her off and began to monologue.

“Like Boris, Sammy was a musician, simple-minded, and was very loyal to those he considered friends until the bitter end. But what made Sammy more like the Brute then Boris- Aside from body type, obviously, was that Sammy had quite the short temper on him, one that got messed with often, and a tendency to hold onto a grudge that can’t be swayed away with a good meal or a bad joke… Just like our friend; the Brute.”

Tom stayed speechless as Joey continued his seemingly prepared and rehearsed speech.

“As for Bendy and Norman, well, it’s obvious that those too simply weren’t compatible in the slightest! Sure, they both have their mischievous sides, but that alone doesn’t make a man into a good imp… However, do you know who DOES have more in common with Mr. Polk? That’s right! A certain smart alec-someone who knows a thing or two about anyone, everyone, and everything whether he wants to or not. Someone with a darker, more jaded sense of humor than our little devil, someone who can lurk in the shadows, or in his case, ‘backstage’ for safety or to gather Intel, but be happy and proud to take the front stage when the need arises! ...Alright, I can see that Norman’s soul may have influenced the personality of our Cameraman, but at least he did it in ways that make sense to the character.”

The mechanic continued to stay silent as Joey continued.

“But the main point is: we know what to do to fix this little issue. If we want a main character, we need someone who embodies the soul of that character. And Ms. Campbell here said it herself; Alice is a part of her!”

“Joey…”

“Why, she’d be thanking us if she knew what was coming! This is a dream come true for her! She always seemed to be the happiest when she was singing our angel darling’s songs…”

As if he was snapped out of a trance, the mechanic pulled Joey to his face, gripping the animator’s arms tightly and shaking him up a bit.

“Joey! We can’t do this! Susie isn’t like Norman or Sammy. She’s young, healthy, and still has a lot to live for. Nobody would buy that she passed on from something out of the blue, or that she moved away without warning or telling anyone. Everyone in the studio loves her and talks to her frequently! If we do this, especially so soon, they will make the connection, and they will find out about this. It was bad enough when Norman went, imagine if someone as well loved as her went too!”

Joey just laughed and slapped Tom’s shoulder.

“Oh Tommy, all we need to tell them is that Susie got her big break and is Bringing Alice to life in ways never before seen! And to sell the illusion, also tell them ‘you know how those folks in Hollywood are with their schedules, always a bunch of busy bees.’ They’ll bite, you just have to trust me.”

“What if they don’t?” the mechanic argued. “What if they start snooping around and start to piece together what really happened to her?”

Joey’s smile wavered a bit, but remained steadfast.

“Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we reach it. And when we do, we’ll have our answer!”

“Nnnnggghhh…”

Both of them shuddered when they heard the voice actress start to stir awake.

“I swore I used stronger stuff in her drink…”

“...Jo...Joey..? ..Mr. Conner..?” The voice actress’s real eye widened in horror as she looked around, and her voice wavered as she grew more and more frantic. “WHat’s going on?! Where am I- Why am I tied up?!”

“S-Susie! Everything’s perfectly fine my dear, you just need to calm down a bit and I’ll explain everything…” He subtly jabbed Thomas in the ribs with his elbow. “Tommy!” He hissed “Throw her in the machine already!”

The frightened voice actress began to struggle against her restraints while Tom hesitated. Joey shot him a glare as he strolled up behind Susie and put a ‘reassuring’ hand on the weeping angel’s shoulder.

“Joey, please… let me go… Don’t do this to me!” Tears were running down the woman’s face, her voice was soft and breaking from her stress. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone…”

“Now, now, Susie, there’s nothing to worry about, yes I know this looks unsettling from your position… But you and Alice are going places, new, big places that most people only dream of seeing! You’re going to bring her to life in ways that will touch the hearts of generations!”

A flash of realization crossed her face.

“Joey… answer me this: when Sammy ‘died from untreated lung cancer’ did he actually die from lung cancer? And when Norman ‘died from a workplace injury’ did he really…?” her voice trailed off a bit with uncertainty before asking her third question. “Did their deaths have anything to do with those two toons that showed up?!”

Her questions were not answered by words, but with actions as the two men stuffed her into the machine. When it turned on, her screams echoed throughout the mostly empty studio, chilling all who heard them to the very bone.

When they finally stopped, the machine whirred and roared to life and Joey rubbed his hands together in glee as he watched the machine work its magic.

Thomas, on the other hand, stood in silence while staring at his hands as dread and guilt sank in his gut.

The former man’s smile fell into a look of confusion when he saw a pair of gloves with ‘X’ marks on them come out, followed by arms that connected to them. That look of confusion fell deeper into a frown when he saw the arms stretch, curl, and twist when the gloves reached the floor as if they were streams of ice cream coming out of the machine at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Alice didn’t have arms that curled and stretched, but Joey knew a certain demoness toon who did; Miss Twisted. He was cursing under his breath, of course it would complete their little trio before giving him what he wanted! Now he wasted his one shot at getting Alice!

The rest of the toon didn’t even get out of the damn machine, it was like she was taunting him by continuing to stretch her arms and let them continue to coil in piles on the floor instead of showing him the finished product.

Furious, he marched over and grabbed the toon demoness’s arms and yanked her out of the damn machine.

“Stop messing around!” He scolded before pausing and reapplying his signature smile. “Your friends Brute and Cameraman have been worried sick about you ever since their creation! You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting for you any longer than they’ve already been, right?”

He could’ve been imagining it, but he swore that she had a look of pure terror on her face before she put on a fake smile of her own. And was it just him, or was this Miss Twisted’s left eye slightly discolored, glassy looking, if that made sense for someone with pitch black pie-cut eyes. The grayer eye she had reminded him of Susie Campbell’s fake eye.

“Y-yeah! You’re right!” She pushed Joey out of her face, clearly uncomfortable by his staring but pretending to be perfectly fine. “I can’t keep my boys waiting for too long, who knows what they’ll do?” She chuckled nervously. “So… where are you keeping them? where are they hiding?”

“Tommy here will be happy to show you, just follow him and-”

“Thanks!”

The demoness chipperly chirped and swiftly yanked Thomas out of the room at a speed that almost insulted the man.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Thomas Conner #joey drew #susie campbell #miss twisted #fanfic #ink demonth #murder warning

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beyondstupidityblog · 3 years

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On March 13th 2021, two friends and I did what never could have imagined possible, I watched Freddy Got Fingered for the ninth time, and it will by no means be the last. I’m explaining this to you, dear reader, so you and I have an important understanding between us. You will be reading the ramblings of one whose brain has curdled like milk left out in the hot afternoon sun. Now that introductions are out of the way, let us begin.

Freddy Got Fingered is a 2001 Comedy starring and directed by Tom Green as the Non-Titular Gordon Brody; an aspiring animator who goes to California to realize his dream, only to be constantly crushed under the weight of his father’s expectations. Sounds tame at first, but what lies beneath the veneer of mediocrity is truly impressive. Completely bombed, audiences hated it, and critics loathed it. Roger Ebert got angry, saying “it isn’t even below the bottom of the barrel” and “Green should be flipping burgers somewhere.”. “Tasteless”, “appalling”, “offensive”, “gross”, and “poo poo,” are just some of the things people have had to say about this film. Animal genitalia can be seen on screen for much longer than anyone could have expected, Tom Green swinging a baby akin to a morning-star with its umbilical cord, said umbilical cord being stolen and taped onto his stomach, gratuitous caning of a nymphomaniac paraplegic, and the dissection of a deer carcass. It is an abrasive experience that leaves a terrible taste in the mouths of those who mention it. Nonetheless, I love this movie.

You ever see a contemporary art exhibit that has a piece that just looks like garbage somebody left out but in actuality is a tongue-and-cheek allusion to the pitiful state of modern art? That garbage is Freddy Got Fingered, and that exhibit is Hollywood. At face value it just seems like a poorly done film by a comedian trying to use his name to get a few butts in the seats before his irrelevancy arrives, but when scrutinized as a commentary of comedy films do the pieces start to fall into place. Tropes like the Protagonist being an unremarkable honkey, gross-out designed to get some cheap quick chuckles, side-characters who occupy the space solely for comedic relief, a shoe-horned romantic side-plot, and an equally as shoehorned in happy ending are all present in a mocking fashion. So many of these Hollywood schlockfests that this movie is paying homage to abuse tropes in some vain attempt to trick the audience into thinking they’re having a good time, when in reality it just reminds viewers of films that they’ve already watched before and could be enjoying instead. All of the awkward and uncomfortable scenes of gross-out and romance are purposeful, because nothing is quite as awkward and uncomfortable than a film disengaging the audience with its own mediocrity. “This is what it’s like to endure this trash!” Drunkenly screams Freddy Got Fingered atop the tallest piece of furniture in the room, while also exposing its genitals to keep you from getting too comfortable around it. Unlike the films it is parodying, its obsession with making a fool out of audiences rips them away from the comfort of the cinema, making them genuinely ask if it is worth wasting their time watching a film called Freddy Got Fingered. Even the title is an intentional slight, as it seems to be completely untethered to the actual plotline and is instead a reference to a seemingly inconsequential scene. But then again, that is the point of it all. Tom Green is an artist, and on his canvas is a portrait of Hollywood with all of the ugly little imperfections that cause a movie like this to be created. But this is just the meta-narrative of Freddy Got Fingered, something that you could find all over the internet. Why do I resonate with it so much, and what about it makes it so exceptional that led to this unhealthy fascination?

Every instance that I’ve rewatched Freddy Got Fingered has always brought about a new side to it, and in the process leaves me craving for more. Gord is an interesting take on the average leading man. He is on the surface bland and inoffensive, made so in order to allow the majority of the audience to immediately identify with him, said group being 20-something skater guys with unrealistic expectations of themselves. Made especially ironic when after the introduction of Gord as an adept skateboarding rebel escaping from authority, he starts to show that in reality he is an unlikeable, bratty, entitled, and all around unpleasant person. Barely a scene passes before we see him masturbate a horse while exclaiming he is a farmer to his father who is not present, seemingly a crude gag but is in reality an insight into his low self worth caused by his imposter syndrome stemming from distant paternal relationship. I would like to remind you, dear reader, that I am still writing of Freddy Got Fingered, in case you were beginning to think I have lost my mind (The answer is yes by the way). All throughout the film Gordon Brody puts on masks for different situations, never allowing himself to be who he is. When infiltrating the Animation studio where he wishes to pitch his cartoons, he pretends to be a mailman to get past reception and then impersonates a police officer when the former stops being effective. Donning the visage of a British Bobby, he dashes into the restaurant where the man he is searching for, Mr. Wallace, is eating. Showing him his cartoons, Wallace is impressed with the potential they have, but says that they are incoherent and lack real substance. Upon rejection, Gord puts a pistol in his mouth before Wallace stops him and advises what he should do to improve. Gord was genuinely ready to blow his brains out the back of his skull if he wasn’t able to get his show greenlit, and it hit me in that moment that he isn’t just some random jackass, but a victim of detrimentally low self-esteem.

The origins of his complex are made apparent when he goes back home to Oregon and are reintroduced to his Family. We see that his father Jim, played by Rip Torn, is disappointed in his return and begins to sneer at him for his failure. This father and son dynamic always has tension in every scene from this point onwards. Gord, who just wants to be accepted for who he is and not judged by what the world expects him to be, is always at the receiving end of Jim’s wrath, who values his idea of a successful life over the happiness of his sons. From here it becomes little wonder why Gord is the way he is, all his life he was told that who he was is not good enough, he has to be what his father wants if he is to be considered worthy of not only love, but being treated with a modicum of dignity. Whenever Gord acts eccentric or divulges his interests to his father, they are met with either resentment supplemented by verbal assault, or physical violence. After a late-night skateboard outing to escape from his father’s wrath goes awry, he visits his convalescing friend in the hospital, whereupon he meets one of the more interesting characters in relation to Gord, the love interest Betty.

A horny wheelchair bound temptress may not seem like it upon first glance, but Betty is actually the most interesting character out of the entire cast. She feels genuine, introduced as a bored receptionist flipping a coffee creamer idly. Gord immediately strikes up a conversation, whereupon he and the audience find out she has an interest in physics, and apparently an interest in him as well. Betty is strangely well written for what most considered at the time to be a crass sexual joke, so much so that she would actually be a better protagonist than him. She is everything Gord is not, she’s smart, funny, ambitious, and kind to a fault. Even her side plot to create a rocket powered wheelchair makes for a much more unique plot than the one given. Even Gord reciprocates this sentiment in their meeting, lying that he is a stockbroker in an attempt to impress her. In fact, sectioning her off as just the dull protagonist's love interest is a jab at how women in these movies are only there to serve in the development for the male protagonist, just nothing more than their muse. Nonetheless, without this relationship the movie would lose a lot of its soul. Romantic chemistry in comedy films is always hit or miss, but Gord and Betty do seem to have it surprisingly. They’re both silly and impulsive, creatively driven to a fault, but just different enough to eek out the best and worst in them. Gord thinks that what he wants to do with his life is wasteful, but Betty doesn’t. Now I don’t mean that she directly affirms that he is worthwhile like most poorly written love interests would, stroking their lover’s(and by extension the director’s) ego, rather she confronts him with her optimism. He asks if she would feel stupid and like a loser if her experiment failed. Taken aback at first, she questions why she would, relaying that her failures are just as important as her successes. Gord’s self-worth is directly tied to his ability to succeed, whereas Betty doesn’t need this affirmation. Their dialogue further cements how detrimental his father’s overbearingness was to his outlook, and how he is slowly beginning to realize how destructive that mindset is.

At their dinner date, Jim sees Gord and Betty across the restaurant, then reveals that Gord was lying to both him and her about his office job while poking fun at her disability, leading to a father-son scuffle that throws the entire floor into utter chaos. Cops show up, Gord and Jim are detained, and Betty bails Gord out. Most mediocre comedies at this point would have the love interest be upset that her significant other lied to her, leading to him having to make things right to repair their relationship before the happy ending. Breaking the mold, Betty does not get angry with Gord even a smidgen, choosing to be understanding of his situation now that she caught a glimpse into his home-life. She just plain likes Gord, willing to put up with him more than she really should, but still chooses to look past his lies and self-destructive nature for who he truly is, someone who just wants to be accepted by the world around him. Someone just like her.

Right after that enaction of social terrorism performed by the Brody father and son duo, they decide it would be best to go to family therapy and assail the audience with what I fondly refer to it as, “The Scene.” “The Scene” is Freddy Got Fingered’s statement to the world, it is what instills a man with the impetus to rewatch a glorified stoner daydream for the ninth time and leave him wanting more! Gord accuses his father, in a final act of defiance, of molesting his younger brother Freddy. During the ensuing confusion Gord picks up a bust of Sigmund Freud and throws it into the glass window pane, allowing him to escape into the evening sun. The authorities take Freddy away and send him to The Home for Molested Children, and the family slowly unravels from then on. Besides the heavy handed metaphor of Freud’s theories being used as a way for Gord to escape his predicament while simultaneously discrediting them, “The Scene” also recontextualizes Freddy, innocuous of a character as he is, as Gord’s foil. He is in the movie very little but when he is it is to serve one of two purposes: To be compared to Gord, or to be treated as an object. During breakfast much earlier in the film after a fight between Gord and Jim, Freddy tries to explain to his brother that he should grow up. Gord, surprisingly, talks down to him and halts the conversation.

Gord: “He's driving me insane.”

Freddy: “No. No, you're driving him insane. You're older than me and you still live at home. I have a job, you know. I pay my own way.”

Gord: “You work in a bank. Should I be dazzled?”

Freddy: “Well, at least I don't live at home!”

Gord: “No, you live in a tiny shithole and you come here to eat for free.”

With these lines it is plain to see that despite Freddy’s idea of success directly lining up with his father’s, he is even more pitiful than Gord. What little we know of him is to show that his acquiescence to his father’s expectations has left him bereft of not only genuine personal success, but of dignity itself. When child protective services come to take him away, he is half naked, mouth agape, watching open heart surgery on television, a palpable indication of emptiness. He isn’t treated as an adult either, as his protests to the police fall on deaf ears as both them and the psychologist infantilize him. Why would Tom Green name this movie after a character like Freddy, whose lack of presence and characterization make him little more than an afterthought when looking back on the story? Or did I just answer my own question? Freddy is not a character because he is not allowed to be one, he is just too passive and accepting of his circumstances for him to stand out. All he can be is a doll that Jim uses to dress up as the perfect son, and this passiveness leads to Gord, the “failure,” to both pity and resent what he let himself become. That’s why Gord accuses their father of molesting him, after all he does narratively violate Freddy’s autonomy by consistently making decisions for him. Evidently enough, as soon as Gord dons a suit for a quick bit Jim is elated because he believes that his son finally gave in to his demands for him to get a job, because he is acting more like his obedient brother. In this sense Freddy is the most tragic member of the Brody clan, a literal manchild whose growth was stunted by overbearing guardians. When I think of him, a bonsai tree comes to mind. Sure, it looks healthy, but when you realize that it could have grown into a much bigger plant if it were not for its small pot, that realization of wasted potential comes with a tinge of melancholy.

I want to end this essay with a moral that I took away from Freddy Got Fingered, as strange enough as that sounds, and what it has to say about art as a whole. Put simply, this is a story about revenge. Despite and because of his Father’s harsh ways, Gord managed to take from the trauma he sustained throughout his life and sublimated it into his animation. Creation not only lets him heal, but also acts as retaliation against Jim once he becomes successful. So long as you have the drive to prove everyone’s doubts and admonishments wrong by persevering out of wicked spite, you will have the last laugh. Freddy Got Fingered is a story about revenge through artistic expression, and I think that is quite beautiful.

#freddy got fingered #tom green #movies #essay paper #comedy

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unnursvanablog · 3 years

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Maybe the curse of sagueks this year ended with Bossam and maybe we will get more than one good one when the year is over. Lovers of the Red Sky has been on my to-watch list forever it feels like as it's one of my fav genres, it is a fantasy and the young cast is impressive.

The plot goes heavy on the worldbuilding (is this set in a fictional Korean dynasty or Joseon?) at first, and the story sure does hurry along in order to introduce the setting, do some worldbuilding and establish everything in the first episode. I did not think it was that smooth sailing, but settings and when to start a story is one of the hardest parts so I can usually forgive a sort clunky beginning if the drama manages to smooth it out around the second episode. Which I thought Lovers of the Red Sky did.

It has been fairly standard sageuk plot so far, aside from some demons and the occasional magic. I am mostly talking about the poor female heroine who has to care for her ailing father, the handsome, smart but lonely male lead, the king and the crown prince and the politics of the palace and all of that. I have seen it all before in some way.

That may sound like it wasn’t impressive, but I like sageuks. I enjoy all of that. I genuinely was having a fun time watching it. This is very much my cup of tea. Will it become more than just enjoyable sageuk for me time can only tell. It all depends on how the story will be told and the interesting turns it may take. But things being a standard something isn’t really a diss. It’s hard to break away from a certain mold of a genre. And you can tell a really solid, good story all while keeping quite consistent with what the genre you are in has to offer. It just depends on what you do with it.

Sageuks sure are pretty and you can always seem to count on that with these historical dramas and I really enjoy the scenery, the nature shots and all of that. It may not have looked like a country with like nine years of drought but I can look past that. That would mean way too much cgi I think and they have to spend plenty of money on that. The cgi here may not be Hollywood level, but I never feel like faulting the production of a drama for that. They don't have the same budget and I do think there is a certain charm to this level of cgi.

I am not the biggest fan of childhood friends to lovers but I don't hate it ether and it all depends on the execution of that trope of enjoyable it is (as is with most tropes and plot devices). Although they were hardly childhood friends as they had only met once. I am however not the biggest fan of people destined for each other since childhood or the dangerous or cursed mythical man and the female that is destines to save him, lift his curse etc.

This feels very fairytale-esque and that type of destiny does bring out the fairytale vibe of it all, so I get why it's done.

I have yet to see a version of kind of tale that I greatly enjoy, but that does not mean that I will not give this drama a change to prove me wrong. Most things can work if done well or put in the hands of someone who actually does something interesting with it. It's also just depends on which tropes you like. If this was a role reversal... I would probably be all about this. Give me more cursed females and men who will lay down their lives to heal them.

#lovers of the red sky #first impressions #arang and the magistrate still probably my fav fantasy sageuk #it will not be easily topped

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liunaticfringe · 4 years

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(via Actress Lucy Liu Opens Up About Success, Paving The Way For Women And Inequality As A Minority Woman)

Lucy Liu, actress, director and humanitarian who has broken glass ceilings and changed the status quo for minorities in Hollywood, is standing up for equal rights and female empowerment through the Jane Walker by Johnnie Walker “First Women” campaign. Designed to highlight women who have accomplished firsts in their fields, the initiative underscores gender equality and celebrates barrier-breaking women. Liu, a trailblazer in her own right, joined nine other women including Halle Berry, Katie Couric, Elizabeth Banks and Rita Moreno in signing an open letter in support of the campaign. Liu—who was the first Asian-American woman to be nominated for a Primetime Emmy Award and a SAG Award, and was the first Asian-American woman to host Saturday Night Live—is a testament to female success and the transformational power one woman can carry.

“I’m honored to be a part of this campaign because not only does it give you perspective on where you’ve come from, and it gives you that moment to pause and look and really reflect back on your career and see what you’ve achieved, but it also recognizes and sort of opens up the door to say, that Johnnie Walker—which is a huge and very historic brand—is also branching out and understanding the change within their own community, which I think, that’s where it really starts,” Liu said.

Despite progress in the film industry over the years, women and minorities are still underrepresented. As film leads, their representation stands at a low 32.9% and 19.8%, respectively. Liu is a key figure in challenging these disproportionate numbers in Hollywood and paving a historic path for women. She is a paradigm for women striving for an equal place at the table, and her dedication and success have helped open doors for other actors. As one of a few Asian-American women who has held roles in film and television, pushing past discrimination and scant opportunities to attain success was no overnight miracle for Liu. She held on to a few core principles that kept her motivated over the years—philosophies that she recommends for women looking to rise and flourish in any field.

Refusing to give up

“In the beginning it was difficult to even get representation because there were so few people out there that were interested in even having a request for an audition for someone who is Asian,” Liu said. “And since it was so limited, most agencies would just sort of say, well, I guess we’ll just freelance with you because we don’t know how often we can send you out.”

But the roadblocks didn’t stop her. “For me, I knew there was a bigger picture, and I don’t know if I would accept no for an answer,” Liu said. “I’m very persistent and a very curious person. So, every chance I got, I would go in there and prove—yes, maybe this is not what you were looking for originally but there’s a different way to look at it,” she recalled.

“No means yes as far as I’m concerned,” she said. “I think it also came from the fact that my parents were immigrants as well, and they had to sort of work through the language barrier as well as a lot of other racial injustice to really achieve the American dream. I think there’s an opportunity for everyone, but when I started, you had to fight for it.”

Breaking stereotypes

Liu considers her role as a main character in Charlie’s Angels in 2000 alongside Drew Barrymore and Cameron Diaz a turning point. Charlie’s Angels was always about three women and America she said.

“That was the idea of Charlie’s Angels, and to put somebody in that role who is not Caucasian sort of imploded that stereotype, so that it was not something that was discussed—it was more something that was accepted,” Liu said. “And once something is recognized as normal, [the audience is] more willing to accept that there is more of that, and can be more of that.”

Liu, who received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2019, is changing the mold, helping tear down outdated ways and welcoming inclusivity. A teen romantic-comedy film decades ago may not have starred an Asian-American, but casting of Vietnamese-born actress Lana Condor in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before more accurately represents the diversity among female actors and Americans in general.

Accepting other perspectives

“You have to look at what you’re doing and how you’re doing it from every angle,” Liu said, before emphasizing the importance of understanding the views of others. “You might not agree with them but it’s there, and you know, if you’re trying to push through to the next level or you’re trying to accelerate your career or your life or your family in some way, sometimes you have to step out of it in order to look at what needs to be done to really shift it.”

“When I was younger I was so myopic about how I looked at the world and I think that was a very specific way to be, and I think that in retrospect I would try to look at it from more than one angle, if I could go back in time,” she said.

Taking part in community activism

On opening more doors for women, Liu suggests the “first step is to recognize that women need to be more part of the conversation,” and that participation should extend into community activism of government. “There has to be more of a voice and participation in that sense, in order for things to really change,” she said. “We really have to protect our rights as women.”

On the First Women campaign, Liu said, “It really sort of reminds you of these amazing women that you’re being included with and what they’ve achieved and what they’ve accomplished, and being included in that makes you realize, oh, I guess I’ve done something really special and that’s a great feeling.”

#Lucy Liu #Johnnie Walker #first women #dec 2020 #forbes interview

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shireness-says · 4 years

Text

skating in circles (with no way to stop)

Summary: Anne Elliot likes her life just the way it is. The last thing she needs is her handsome, charming, professional hockey player ex... something to show up during lockdown and prove just how wrong she is about that. ~7.9K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3.

~~~~~

A/N: For @welllpthisishappening, who is going a little stir-crazy during the NHL break. Also because it is absolutely her fault I ever thought “What would a hockey-flavored Persuasion AU look like?”

Special thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta skills. Any mistakes, hockey-type or otherwise, are absolutely my own.

Tagging the potentially interested parties: @profdanglaisstuff, @thisonesatellite, @ohmightydevviepuu, @thejollyroger-writer, @snowbellewells.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Social distancing almost doesn’t seem so bad in weather like this, the snow outside Anne’s window falling in huge flakes more furiously each second. Weather like this is designed for staying inside, curled up in an armchair with a cup of tea and a soft knitted afghan. It’s almost enough to soothe the little voice in her head that chides her for not working; there’s genuinely little for Anne to do from home as a school nurse, beyond writing and filing the reports she usually puts off until the end of the year, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling guilty at not doing more. Even if she isn’t expected to. Even if she is actually supposed to bunker down.

It’s been odd, adjusting to a life of jigsaw puzzles and overly involved embroidery projects and all the books she swore she’d read two years ago and never did. Hell, she’s even taken up online archiving projects after an old friend from school sent her a link, just for something to do. Her social life hasn’t particularly suffered; she’s a transplant to this town, anyways, drawn back by the memories of one beautiful, peaceful year, only really meeting with folks from work or her old roommate, and infrequently at that. Every few days, she’ll go through the motions of calling her sister Mary just so the younger woman can chatter away about all her own complaints; truthfully, that’s all the socializing she can handle. Anne has always kept to herself, and usually even likes it; the only difference now is that it’s by governor’s decree, not by her own introverted preferences.

Way out here, it’s not surprising that the power eventually goes out; it’s not uncommon, when the snow gets too heavy on the power lines in heavy storms like this. This is exactly why she has a generator - it’s all but a necessity when you’re living here year-round. Sure enough, the generator roars to life a moment later - an auditory nuisance, for sure, but a necessary one when you like such things as central electric heating and wifi and refrigerated items not spoiling.

The crunch of snow under tires outside her little cottage is more surprising, however, especially under the circumstances. She hasn’t ordered takeout, or grocery delivery; there’s no reason anyone should be pulling up to her house, especially in this weather. Peeking out the window reveals the kind of SUV only people with money buy, and the last person in the world she ever expected to see climbing out of it; she’d almost think it a hallucination brought on by isolation, if she hadn’t already seen him from a distance at the grocery store, earlier in the week.

Anne barely has a chance to pull herself together before the knock at the door sounds, bouncing off the walls of her little house. Opening the door reveals Frederick Wentworth, the dream she put away nigh on nine years ago, standing on her stoop in a ridiculous hat and a peacoat that’s not remotely suited to the practicalities of winter in rural New Hampshire.

“Believe me, I hate this just as much, if not more, than you do,” he begins, plowing forward before Anne can even remember to reassure him that it’s not true, “but my power’s out, and I need your help.”

As it turns out, Frederick - her handsome, charming, professional hockey player ex… something - is all that’s required to upset any equilibrium the snow might have brought.

———

Frederick Wentworth hadn’t intended to return to Kellynch, New Hampshire. Then again, he hadn’t intended to be sitting out indefinitely with the rest of the league because of the current pandemic.

New York just feels odd like this, the tourists all gone, the streets practically empty. Fred has never credited himself as one of those maniacs who claim that New York is the only city in the world, and there’s nothing like it; he’d been happy in a small town, and he’ll be happy in a different city if the worst happens and he ends up traded. That’s the way these things work. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t formed opinions over the last years about how this city is supposed to feel, and it sure as hell ain’t this.

So he gets in his car, arranges for a rental house, and drives up to Kellynch. If nothing else, he hopes it will be easier to look outside in a place he’d expect to see barely a soul even under the best conditions. Nothing ever happens in Kellynch, after all; maybe that will include the virus too.

(Well, that’s a lie. Exactly two things have ever happened to Kellynch, and he’s one of them. The other… if they’re very, very lucky, they’ll never have to deal with egotistical directors and their ilk again. Even pretty, quiet brunettes aren’t worth that trouble; in fact, sometimes, they make things worse.)

The irony to all this is that usually, Frederick craves a little bit of solitude. He spends essentially his entire life around the same group of guys, at practice and in games and especially on the road, when he’s got to share a hotel room to boot. Hell, he even lived with them for years, sharing an apartment with Harville and Benwick. A man can be forgiven for wanting some time to himself.

And he’d gotten it, at least for a while. Harvey had met his now-wife and moved out, and now Benwick’s got a girlfriend who giggles and his own place to giggle with her in or whatever. Fred can finally come home and just collapse in the closest thing to silence one ever gets in New York, and truthfully, he’s been enjoying every moment of it.

There’s a difference, though, in solitude on your own terms and solitude on others’ terms, and Frederick can’t help but feel lonely as he remembers that in the middle of all this, his friends and teammates are cozied up with those they love, and he’s all by himself in the empty apartment he once yearned for. In Kellynch, at least, it’s a solitude of his own making; his parents are long gone, Sophie out in Virginia with her husband, and for the most part, he hasn’t talked to his old school friends in years. There won’t be this constant awareness of all the people he can’t see if there’s no one about that he’d want to.

Maybe he ought to try dating again, he thinks as he drives. Obviously, there’s nothing to be done in the moment, what with social distancing and impending stay-at-home orders, but maybe later. Maybe Harvey’s wife has friends he’d like - he’s always liked Amelia and her steady personality and good-natured humor, so unlike Benwick’s high-maintenance Louisa and her ear-piercing squeals. Her friends have got to be similar, and Amelia would probably even be kind enough not to make him sound completely desperate.

It’s not that he hasn’t found anyone interested in the past years; he’s got a decent face, after all, and a better paycheck. But the thing about that face and that paycheck is that it’s hard to trust that any woman is interested in him, him alone, the person he is without all that. It’s not a great way to live, but it’s hard to move past.

There’s also the matter of the pretty quiet brunette who came to Kellynch when he was 16, seized his heart, and never really gave it back. Walter Eliot may have been an asshole - every cliche of the self-absorbed Hollywood director, convinced that their town was “quaint” and “just what he needed” to spark inspiration while demanding kowtowing and wrecking havoc wherever he went - but his daughter, Anne, had been of a different mold altogether. He’d met her at the annual Fourth of July parade, of all places. It was obvious she hadn’t intended to be noticed; indeed, she’d blushed and done her best to fade into the background while her father and older sister had made some kind of scene that Frederick can’t honestly remember anymore. He’d been too intrigued - and later, enchanted - by Anne to pay much attention to the rest of the fiasco she’d called a family.

She’d probably felt then the same as he feels about people now - some strange boy coming up to her out of nowhere with mini-donuts, someone she’s never met but undoubtedly knows her and her family, stuck wondering if he was interested in her or all the rest of it. But it had always been her; she’d initially been fascinating just in the contrast, but as he’d talked to her Fred had gotten to see her sense of humor and her brilliant mind and caring heart, and been smitten with the whole package.

That was, until she’d ended things between them, insisting that they’d never work across such a long distance, that she didn’t want to try. Maybe they’d only had 8 months, but he’d been all in, with all the conviction of youth that this was it for them, in some kind star-crossed true love way. She was the first thing, besides his family, that he’d loved more than hockey; truthfully, he still hasn’t found anything or anyone else to match that. It’s hard to move on from that kind of heartbreak. Maybe it’s finally time he tried.

The house he’s rented proves to be up a winding, hilly road lined with pine trees stretching in every direction. The seclusion is its own kind of calming - exactly what he needs, when the rest of the world feels like it’s going to hell in a handbasket. There’s something about being alone amongst the trees that feels comforting in a way that being alone in the city can never touch - almost like a hug. Or something else less weird-sounding. English was never his thing. The house itself is just a little two-bedroom cottage, but that’s more than enough space for just him. What’s more important is that there’s a TV and WiFi and plenty of blankets to bunker down with for however long this lasts.

What he doesn’t expect is to see Anne Eliot - the same Anne Eliot who he thought had left Kellynch for good, who’d broken his heart - at the supermarket like any other local, presumably looking to stock up on supplies just like he is. He doesn’t think she spots him - Frederick ducks into another aisle as soon as he spots her - but just the briefest sight of her sets his heart beating faster in a way that he doesn’t really want to examine closer.

(It would be ridiculous to still have feelings for her after all this time, even if that’s sure what it seems like.)

He tells himself that it’s just a fluke; that they won’t run into each other again; that they can avoid each other without any problems, given the situation. He is wrong on all counts. The cottage sits at the top of a hill, and on days where the fog hasn’t settled around the tops of the trees, he can see just a peek of a few houses and driveways down below.

And just who should he happen to see wrestling with her trash bin one evening, but the woman herself?

(Some higher power really has it in for him, he’s certain of it.)

Still, they don’t call it social distancing for nothing. It’s easy to avoid the people you don’t want to see when you don’t even leave your house. He naps a lot and catches up on Netflix and even attempts a puzzle that he finds in the hall closet (though it just winds up abandoned on the dining table).

In eight years, though, he’d forgotten about the weather up here. It’s late March, technically spring; the worst of the snow should be over. Should be over isn’t the same as is over, though, and he’d forgotten about the late-March snowstorms that pop up more years than not. They’d had them in Minnesota, too; the locals there had always joked it was because of the college basketball tournament. Well, the NCAA tournament may have been cancelled, but the weather sure didn’t get that memo, as the flakes start falling huge, heavy, and fast just outside the windows, almost pretty in a way that’s only possible when you know you don’t have to go outside in the storm.

Fate has other ideas, though. At least, Frederick has to believe it’s fate, otherwise this is all a cruel, cruel trick, and he doesn’t like to think about what he might have done to deserve that. Where he’s going with this is that the power goes out, knocking out the heat and the lights, as well as all those systems he’d been so thankful for until now. There’s a fireplace, but he hadn’t planned for this, and there’s not enough logs and he doesn’t know where or how to chop more and as much of his life as he spends at an ice rink he is not prepared to spend the night in these kind of temperatures without heat and —

— and when he looks out his window, he can just see a hint of light from Anne’s house, just hear the hum of a generator.

And he really doesn’t have any option at all but to throw himself on the mercy of the last woman he wants to see.

———

Anne’s house is neat, from what Frederick can see - small, but cozy, with everything obviously in its very particular place. It reminds him of her, in a way, or at least the her he remembers - quietly comforting and well turned out. It’s exactly what he expected, somehow - just the kind of house he’d expect her to inhabit.

The woman herself, on the other hand, looks tired - vastly different than what he remembered. Anne is worn down, somehow, in a way that makes her look older than she is. Frederick supposes that’s what happens when she’s undoubtedly been carrying her family members in the way she always has; it would exhaust anyone, especially under pandemic circumstances.

“Nice place,” he comments as Anne leads him towards a promised spare bedroom once he’s retrieved his bag - more out of an effort to fill the empty space than anything. Anne was always quiet, but this is just unnerving in its discomfort. They’d always been able to talk, or at least exist contentedly in the quiet; this is the opposite of all that.

“Thanks,” she replies. “I like it.” Just the kind of response a person makes when they don’t know what the hell else to say.

And maybe that’s what makes Fred dive straight into topics they should politely ignore - the absolute blandness of everything else they could say.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he tells her foolishly.

“In my own home, during quarantine?” She says it with a slight smile and the tone of voice she’s always used to hide her sense of humor, and suddenly Frederick is hit with a powerful wave of nostalgia.

“No, here. Kellynch here.”

The amusement flits away just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile turning polite and wooden. Another look he vividly remembers. “I didn’t plan to come back, either,” she tells him softly, “but I like it here. I got out of school and there was a position open and… it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I’m a school nurse,” she clarifies. “Over at the elementary.”

And that… fits, in a way he should have realized. She’d talked about going into nursing way back when, back when they were still practically kids, but this makes a lot more sense than trying to imagine Anne in some busy hospital. More tender, more stable.

“I bet you’re great at that.”

“Thanks. I like it. You’re… good at your job, too,” she finishes awkwardly.

(Even if the words are halting, uncomfortable, they send a little thrill through Frederick’s veins. Does that mean she’s watched, sometime in these past couple of years? They’re decidedly out of Rangers country and New York broadcasting range, way up here, but there are ways around that and she’d said…

Had she watched? For him?)

“Just doing my best,” he replies, just as uncomfortably. What a pair they make now.

“I don’t know if you’ve eaten already, but I was about to make up some dinner,” Anne tells him - an abrupt, but welcome, change of subject. “I’d be happy to do up another serving if you like.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” He has no idea what kind of meal he’s committed to, but who the fuck cares; right now, it’s a way to get a moment to collect himself.

“I’ll see you in a little bit then.”

(If he’s not mistaken, Anne flees the room with just as much relief as he feels watching her go.)

(Kellynch was supposed to be his getaway, his haven - but right now, all it seems like is a terrible mistake as Frederick wonders what the fuck kind of situation he’s gotten himself into.)

———

Dinner isn’t exactly an illustrious start to this whole thing, to say the least. Anne stresses about every step of making spaghetti - spaghetti, for goodness sakes, jarred sauce and boxed noodles, nothing a normal person could possibly find a way to stress about - only to realize as soon as they sit down that this is what they really should have worried about: what in the world two people who have unwillingly been forced into the same space have to discuss.

(“How’s your family?” he asks at one point - probably a subtle dig, if he’s remembering the same uncomfortable dinner that she is, in which her father had done his best to treat Frederick like an utter idiot. Fred had always thought she’d let them walk all over her, anyways - an accusation that isn’t far off.

“Mary is fine. She just got engaged to a lawyer,” Anne relates as neutrally as she can. “I don’t much talk with Walter or Elizabeth anymore.” There’s a variety of reasons for that - especially their tendency to never listen to a single word she’s ever said in her life and making snide comments about how she’d rather live in some backwoods nowhere than in someplace with civilization like LA or New York - but the memory of the way they’d treated Frederick, and everyone else not like them had contributed too. “And your sister?” That’s a safer topic; Sophie and Anne had liked each other.

“She’s good. She lives down in Virginia now - her husband’s some big shot in the Navy.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”)

(And that had been the end of that feeble attempt at discussion.)

Anne thinks a lot that night about what she must have done to deserve this. Clearly, something terrible in some past life to have earned this particular variety of torment. Frederick is everything she remembered, only colder - not that she can blame him. After what she did, all those years ago, the way she broke them… she’s more than earned it.

Still. She can be strong, Anne tells herself. She can remain detached, and collected, and unaffected by his presence. She’s had years of practice, after all, pretending that she still isn’t carrying a torch.

(It was always a foolish idea to watch him play online - but then again, she’s always been a fool.)

It’s a little harder to keep up that calm facade, however, when Frederick is walking out of the bathroom in the morning with nothing more than sweatpants and wet hair. God, but he’s handsome, between that face and that wonderful smile and the fit frame he must be displaying just to taunt her, like a reminder of all she rejected. Naturally. It’s no more than she deserves. Her relief is near palpable when he emerges from the spare room in another bright blue t-shirt.

It gets easier as the hours pass and one day bleeds into another. It’s not Frederick’s fault that she’s so shaken by his very presence, and he really is trying to be a good houseguest. He picks up after himself and helps with the dishes and doesn’t argue with whatever she puts on TV. It could be worse.

Still, she can’t help but feel like everything from their past sits between them, unspoken, in every interaction. It’s the elephant in the room, the loudly unspoken words in every little mundane interaction they share. They can reach a point where they’re able to converse without the overt distrust and borderline hostility of where they started this, but comfort is too much to ask.

(Does he feel it too - the pressure of all the what-might-have-beens, pressing down upon them? Or is she the only one that’s haunted?)

She can do this - survive Frederick’s presence when every moment is a reminder of all she threw away. But that doesn’t mean it won’t just crush and kill her.

———

Frederick finds that he doesn’t mind being cooped up with Anne, likes it much more than he anticipated or planned. It’s not that they do much of anything - there’s limits in a small cottage like hers - but the companionship is nice. As it turns out, he was maybe lonelier than he’d wanted to admit. Even the stupid jigsaw puzzles go easier in her company; she’s got a system of sorting that Fred never would have had the patience to implement.

Really, Anne is better equipped, literally and emotionally, for this whole isolation situation. Frederick has always needed to be out and active and doing, little planning involved; Anne, on the other hand, has all the supplies she needs, and the temperament for these kinds of quiet, time-wasting tasks to boot. It’s so entirely in character; he should probably have guessed. Then again, he was trying very hard not to think of Anne until he was forced to show up at her door, practically begging for shelter.

Anne, of course, has plenty of firewood, unlike him, stacked neatly under a tarp at the side of her garage where it’s protected from the elements. She lives here year-round, after all; unlike his own dumb ass, she obviously remembers that it’s not uncommon to receive snow all the way through March and into April, and planned accordingly. Her central heating works fine, obviously, but there’s something about this weather that calls for a roaring fire. Plus, retrieving the firewood gives Frederick a chance to think away from Anne and all her distraction.

He’s not sure what he expected of her - tears? Begging? Apologies? The kind of aloofness the rest of her family has so perfected? None of that is Anne; she’s always been too accepting of her circumstances, even to her own detriment. Once upon a time, Frederick had viewed that tendency with a kind of fond exasperation, had wanted to help her understand that she deserved more than she had always settled for; now it just makes him sad, and angry. She should feel more than this, should be angry or distraught or anything now that he’s here.

He should be paying more attention to the task at hand than the woman in the other room, unfortunately, as the end of a twig clipped off a log slices the skin of his palm as he deposits his load by the hearth, causing Frederick to hiss in surprise at the mild pain. It’s not a deep cut, or hurt that badly - he plays a contact sport for a living, for fuck’s sake, this is nothing - but he can already see blood starting to bead. After making sure the logs are stacked as best as he can one handed, Fred quickly crosses to the kitchen sink to rinse it out. Anne finds him moments later as he examines his hand for splinters.

“Are you alright?” she asks, that soft voice filled with the kind of concern that sends a pang through his heart.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just scratched myself on one of the logs. No biggie.”

Still, Anne pulls his hand closer to examine the little cut herself - gently enough that he could easily pull away, but somehow, too tenderly for him to ever want to. This is her life now, Frederick realizes suddenly - scrapes and bruises and doubtless all other kinds of minor playground injuries that need more tenderness than true care. School nurse, after all.

“I’ll get you something for that.”

“Oh, you don’t have to —” but it’s too late; Anne is already walking down the hall with her determined pace, disappearing into the bathroom. Resistance is futile, or something. Faintly, he hears the squeal of a cabinet hinge before Anne pads back into sight in her stockinged feet, carrying something he can’t quite make out clutched in her hand.

“Just a bit of neosporin,” she explains, tugging his hand back towards her to apply the cream before peeling open the wrapper of a band-aid - the skin-toned butterfly kind.

He nods towards the little adhesive. “What, no fun prints? I’m appalled.”

“Left all my princesses and superheroes back in my office at school,” she smiles back. “You’ll just have to make do, I suppose.”

“I guess I’ll make it, somehow.”

(When she smiles, the ridiculous urge to ask her to kiss it better pops into his head with an ease that nearly frightens him. With a care that would impress even her, he shoves it back down.)

———

It gets easier to share the same space as the days drag on - to learn to expect another person in her space, to expect that other person to be him. It would be overstating the matter to say that she’s not affected by him anymore; indeed, Anne is almost painfully aware of his presence at every moment. But she can prepare to face it when she’s come to expect him, and that feels like a victory all its own. She is braced and ready, long since versed in ignoring and minimizing those feelings that still linger from so long ago. Frederick’s physical presence in her space is a complicating factor, but certainly one that she can overcome.

If she can ignore the way her heart aches, it’s almost kind of nice, having him around. They fall into a pattern of meals and Netflix and quietly finding their own distraction in between. It’s the kind of mundane existence she could almost dream of sharing with him if she was foolish enough to entertain those thoughts.

(She can’t afford to be such a fool - not when it’s only a matter of time until the snow stops and the roads clear and he leaves once again. She likes her life as it is, and that will have to be enough.)

It’s probably inevitable that, on the fourth night, when the snow has finally let up but the temperatures have turned bitter and icy, they find themselves huddled up next to the fireplace with a strong drink apiece. Frederick sips on a glass of the nice whiskey Anne keeps in the back of a cabinet for occasions that call for a little something stronger, barely kissed with enough soda to call it a mixed drink; Anne, at least, pours the same stuff into a whole cup of tea. She’s never been much for liquor, especially straight, but there are occasions that call for it, and being cooped up with a man she never expected to see again is certainly one of them.

“What are the fucking odds?” Frederick declares after his second glass. “I come out here, trying to get away, and I find you. What are the odds.”

“Well, the last couple of years, I’d say pretty good. Since I live here and all.” He’s kind of cute like this - drunk and verbose. It’s something she never had a chance to see, before.

“Oh. Yeah. That.” He takes another swig. “Still. What are the odds that I came back while you’re here?”

“It’s a mystery, I guess.” Maybe it’s the last few days; more likely, it’s the drink. Whatever the case, Anne finds herself telling Frederick something she should never admit. “I’m glad you’re here,” she tells him softly. “I… missed you.”

He tenses up at the words; not the reaction she expected, honestly. A feeling of dread starts to bloom in her stomach instead. “Really,” he comments, utterly flat.

“Well… yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little bit,” he tells her bluntly. “Especially since you’re the one that wanted me gone in the first place.”

“It was for the best.” For him, that is; this was never about her, anyways.

“Was it now?” His laugh is bitter, utterly devoid of joy.

“Frederick…”

“I just want to know what the hell is going on here,” Frederick demands, a liquored slur rounding out his consonants. “Because I’ve been here for days, and I can’t get my feet underneath me where you’re concerned. You sit there with that sad smile and you say it’s for the best and yet you don’t seem happy. And I don’t fucking get it. You’re the one who wanted to break up, but you don’t seem happy that we did.”

“I wasn’t,” Anne admits softly. “I’m not.”

“Then why? Because I’ve been trying to figure it out for nearly nine years, and all I’ve ever figured out is that you must not have felt anything. And after a week spent here, I don’t know that that’s true. So tell me, why?”

“I did it for you!” Anne finally bursts out, more a plea that a shout. “And I know that sounds like a lie and an excuse, but that’s why. We were so young, but God, I loved you. And you loved me, so much that you were about to throw away your chance at everything, ready to find some lesser school near Kellynch rather than taking Minnesota’s offer just so we’d be closer to each other. And I wanted it too - God, Frederick, you don’t know how much I wanted it, how close I was to letting you do that, because I wanted that too. I wanted you close. I loved you.

“But then… it wasn’t even some big game, but you wanted me there, so I went. And you looked alive out there on the ice, throwing insults and elbows and grinning like a maniac. I realized… that’s who you were supposed to be. I couldn’t hold you back from that, just to keep you close to me. Minnesota was your path to the kind of career that would last. How could I ask you to throw away your future?”

“Why didn’t you just say that? We could have figured something out. Done the long distance thing, I don’t know.”

“And you would have been hopelessly distracted from the start. Your mind would have been halfway across the country when you needed to be focusing on hockey and classes and everything else.”

He doesn’t have any response to that, not that Anne expected one. Frederick has never been great at admitting to things he doesn’t like.

“It was never because I didn’t care enough, because I didn’t love you,” she finishes softly. “I did it because I could see everything you could be, and I love - I loved you too much to let you waste that.” God, Anne hopes he didn’t hear that slip of the tongue, even if it’s true. “We were seventeen, Frederick. Kids. There was so much still ahead for you. I couldn’t be the reason you hindered your own dream, or even let it slip away. And you made it, didn’t you? You’ve reached that dream. No matter what I wanted for myself… I had to. For you, so you could have this.”

“I wanted you more than any dream.” Frederick has practically collapsed in on himself in the armchair, the very same one Anne was occupying when he’d showed up and shattered her quiet little world. It seems almost fitting that he sit there while she does the same.

There’s no words for this; nothing that could make it better. Telling him I wanted that too won’t fix what’s already been done, even if she wishes that was the case, even if that’s true. “Frederick…” she finally whispers for lack of anything else to say.

It’s too late, though - though that’s not quite the right phrase, not when it was already too late before this conversation even started, before he even showed up at her door in the snow. Now is just when he pries himself out of her armchair, standing with a finality that’s impossible to miss. “I’m tired, Anne,” he tells her. Anne doesn’t think she imagines an extra level of meaning to his words. “Goodnight.”

There’s nothing left to say - and no use saying it to an empty room anyways as she hears the spare bedroom door click shut down the hall.

There’s no changing the past, but not enough words to explain it either.

———

The next morning, the roads are finally clear, and Frederick can go back up the road to his own cottage. Anne watches silently as Frederick emerges from the guest bedroom, his duffle bag in hand. The silence only becomes more tense as they stare at each other, the luggage a physical barrier between them, both blessed and cursed.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Frederick finally says, breaking the silence.

Anne shakes her head. “It was nothing. Basic kindness. You don’t need to thank me.”

(Can he see the way this pains her? Read the plea in her eyes - for forgiveness, for understanding?)

After another beat of silence, Frederick finally nods decisively, turning towards the door. “Take care, Anne.”

“You too, Frederick.” It feels final; it feels like a farewell, of a permanent kind.

And then, with a last soft click of the door, he’s gone.

And Anne is left to herself again.

———

He should feel peace, now that he’s back in his own space, away from Anne and every memory that she’s dredged up.

He doesn’t.

Because now, back alone in the little house at the top of the hill, Frederick once again has to face the particular kind of loneliness that comes with knowing that it doesn’t have to be this way.

What it all circles back to is this: he should feel smug. After all, this is everything he’d wished for in his most bitter moments over the years: Anne, all alone, with no real support system, just living a quiet little life of little note and, to all appearances, little true happiness.

But it doesn’t feel good - not even remotely. How has he suffered? Sure, he hasn’t had her, but he got drafted, went to a top rate school, wound up playing hockey for a living in the NHL. By any measure, it’s a damn good life - all while Anne has been left to become the shell of herself he found four days ago.

And that shouldn’t be his problem. Technically, you could argue that she brought this upon herself; dug a hole of her own making. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel… sad, he supposes, to see what she’s resigned herself to. Maybe a little guilty, even.

And still, he can’t help but feel like there’s questions left unanswered. They’d talked plenty about the past, how they’d felt and why they’d acted the way they had, but that hadn’t touched on where they stand now. If there’s one thing he’s learned in these last few days, it’s that his own feelings aren’t nearly as dormant as he’s tried to convince himself all these years. If there’s any chance Anne might still feel the same… well, he owes it to them both to find out.

This chapter of their history doesn’t seem quite finished yet, and Frederick knows exactly what he has to do.

———

This time, she should have expected the knock on the door - social distancing be damned.

It’s been three days since the storm’s finally stopped - three days since snowplows had cleared everything out, three days since Frederick had left, back to his own little house up the road.

She’d been content by herself for so long - happy with her plants and her books and all the little hobbies that take up her time in the evenings and weekends. Anne had even found a new kind of solitary contentment in the pandemic, discovering tasks to give her days purpose and goals. Frederick was here for a matter of days, not even a week; it’s absurd to think he could change any of that.

And yet somehow, he has.

Because Anne had been… content by herself for so long - not happy, per se, but satisfied - but the house feels empty now without him. Even when they’d barely talked, or were in separate rooms, he’d been there, the energy of another person making the whole house feel full. She’d grown used to him, she supposes; allowed herself to remember, for once, all the reasons she had loved him, and all the dreams she once had had of what a life together could have been like .

She chose this life - here, in Kellynch, by herself. But for the first time in the only place that’s ever really been hers, she feels not just alone, but lonely. As much as she’s always claimed to like her life, just as it is, there’s no denying that the past days have illuminated all the ways that she’s been lying to herself. She tries to pass the time the same way she always has, but it’s just not the same; she even calls Mary at one point, hoping her sister’s dour moods might be an efficient distraction, but Mary is even more snippy than usual. It’s been days since Anne last called, and her sister feels an outsized outrage about the so-called abandonment; truthfully, Anne hadn’t even noticed it had been a week since her last call. Moreover, she finds that she doesn’t really care about Mary’s bad mood the way she always has, doesn’t feel the need to fix it or blame herself for the outburst. It’s easier just to hang up the phone.

(Maybe this is the first step in moving on: accepting that you deserve more than you’ve ever settled for. That doesn’t stop the yearning; moving on isn’t the work of a couple days, especially when the man himself has only just exited her life again, and is staying just up the road.)

As if she’s summoned him, tires crunch on the drive outside, heralding his reappearance. It isn’t right, the way her heart lurches with happiness and hope and excitement when she peeks out the window to once again see his SUV, once again see him climbing out in that ridiculous blue hat and shuffle to her front door without once slipping on her icy walk. There’s a sense of déjà vu as Anne draws a deep breath before she opens the door. There’s only so many times she can go through this, be subjected to such a blast from the past, before it will eventually break her. And yet, like a fool, she keeps opening the door.

“Can we talk?” Frederick asks. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched inwards, but there’s a look in his eyes that Anne is afraid to name.

(It almost looks tender - almost looks like hope - but it will hurt far worse to be proved wrong if she allows herself to believe that.)

“Of course,” Anne says softly, stepping aside just enough to let him in. It touches a special little bit of her heart to see the way that Frederick carefully knocks the snow off his boots at the threshold as he pulls his hat off his head, trying his best not to track anything in to her rug and floors. It’s such a simple little thing, but it’s care for her home - and, in a way, care for her. More than she ever expected again from Frederick Wentworth.

“Anne…” he begins, reaching out a hand for her, but she quickly takes a step back. Touch will be too much, too permanent a memory if this is the end.

“I think we ought to keep a bit of distance,” she explains at his odd look.

If anything, that only serves to confuse him further, his brow crinkling up in that endearing way she remembers. “We already spent days together. I think social distancing is kind of a lost cause, at least where we’re concerned.”

Anne shakes her head. “It’s not about the virus.”

She can see the moment it hits him, just exactly what she means by distance, as he physically flinches with the realization. She can also see the moment he decides to plow forwards anyways with whatever he came to say.

“I’ve been thinking, these last couple of days,” he tells her, “and I’ve had a lot of time to consider things. Everything you said and did, the other night and way back when. And I realized… I did a lot of talking about what I wanted, and what I felt. And in the middle of all that shouting, I never asked about what you wanted, or want, or how you felt. And you never told me, because that’s what you’re used to - people not caring enough to ask. That’s on me, and I’m sorry. But —” he swallows heavily, as if he’s forcing down the nerves he evidently feels — “but I’m asking now. I want to know what our break-up meant to you. Because the more I think about it, the harder it is for me to believe you did all this because you didn’t care.”

Anne fights the urge to turn away from Frederick; he deserves that much, after everything. Meeting his eyes is too much to ask, however, and she fixes her gaze instead just over his right shoulder, crossing her arms over her body protectively. “I loved you,” she tells him quietly. “I knew what I had to do, but I loved you. I hated every word that came out of my mouth.” Anne smiles sadly. “You weren’t the only one who wanted. You were the first person - the only person to look at me and see something wonderful and worthwhile, and it killed me to throw that away. I’ve had to live with that ever since.”

“And now?”

Anne turns pleading eyes upon him, sure that every emotion is now splashed across her face and too distraught to care. How dare he do this? How dare he make her speak this into existence if he’s only about to crush it all? “Don’t make me say it,” she begs.

“Please, Anne.” His voice is nearly as desperate - and that’s, ultimately, what breaks her, leaving the words to spill forth almost without her permission.

“And now… that doesn’t go away, you know. A love as big as that. You got to go be this success story, doubtless had all kinds of… distractions over the years, but when you have a quiet little life like mine, you don’t forget. It doesn’t go away. There’s a large part of my heart that is still yours - probably always will be - and I have to find a way to deal with that.”

“You still love me?”

Anne nods, whispering her response. “I do.”

She suddenly feels his hand trail down her arm, causing Anne to jerk abruptly to meet his eyes again. “Well that’s lucky,” he smiles down at her, achingly gentle, “because I haven’t forgotten either.”

Even as Anne’s heart lurches with hope, she shakes her head. “Don’t tease, Frederick. Don’t be that cruel.”

“I’m not,” he assures her, twining their fingers together. “Because you’re right, I’ve tried to distract myself, but… you have no idea just how unforgettable you are, Anne. How could anyone ever compare? And I tried so hard for so long to move on, to hate you, but I never could. You were a little spark in my heart that I could never quite stamp out. And now…” Frederick pauses as if to gather his breath, squeezing her hand as he does so. “And now, I hope I won’t have to.”

“You’d want that? You’d want to…” Even with new-found hope singing through her veins, Anne still hesitates to finish the sentence. This all feels like a wonderful dream; she’d hate to wake up and discover that’s all it was.

“To try again?” he finishes. “Yeah. Yeah, I want that. The real question is… do you?”

And she does, she wants that so terribly much, so badly that it aches, even as she hesitates. How could he want that, after everything she’s done? When their separation was her fault in the first place?

“I don’t deserve you,” Anne murmurs into the miniscule space between them, caving to the urge to brush his hair back from his face. It makes him smile, just a little bit, just a twitch of his lips, but that more than anything else sends a flood of peace rushing through her soul.

“I think we deserve each other,” Frederick tells her in return, his voice almost unbearably soft. “I believe that, and somehow, I’m going to make you believe that too. We deserve this, Annie.”

And he kisses her, like he wants to, like he’s thought about it just as much as she has. His lips are soft against hers - just like she remembers, all those years ago - but there’s a surety to his hands now that wasn’t there before, in the way he pulls at her waist to bring her closer and his fingers thread through her hair with purpose. There’d been a handful of ill-advised attempts at dating in the past eight years, but nothing ever came close to this joyful swooping sensation in her stomach or the feelings of safety and love and home. That’s something only he can manage; something that only exists between the two of them.

Her hands find their way to his chest as the kiss deepens, becomes more passionate, heads adjusting their position to allow tongues to tentatively begin to prod and search. Anne had known the difference 8 years had made on Frederick’s body, had seen with her own two eyes the way he’d filled out with more muscle, but feeling it is something else altogether, even through his shirt where his coat gaps open. It’s a reminder that they’re not the same - they’re older and more mature and have experienced different things than they had at 17. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, change can be good; it’s brought them here, together, at what otherwise feels like the end of the world.

Even as they break apart - to get a breath of air, to process what just happened - Frederick continues to stroke his thumb across the round of her cheek, like he can’t bear to stop touching her. It warms her heart in a whole new way, like it’s proof that he meant every word he told her - as if she needs any more after that kiss. It would be easy to let herself get swept away on that little touch, perhaps into another wonderful kiss, but Anne forces herself to meet his eyes.

“Stay.” It’s more than a question, but less than a demand - a plea, the dearest wish of her heart that she’s never admitted, now given voice.

“For as long as you want me, Annie.” His voice is tender and husky as he smiles down at her. “Because I really don’t want to ever leave you again.”

And that’s awfully lucky, as Anne doesn’t ever intend to let him go again.

#Persuasion #Persuasion ff #Jane Austen ff #Anne Elliot x Frederick Wentworth #Modern AU #my writing #skating in circles (with no way to stop)

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zahramalik · 4 years

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hello ! i’m natalia & i’m still sort of shocked that i’m even here. i’m SO excited to write with all of you talented, lovely people. quick facts about me before we jump into my character: i’m 24, live in the cst timezone, and my pronouns are she/her. i work at a library and love discussing books, so hmu if you ever wanna nerd out.

i’ll be writing zahra malik aka the temptress! below the cut is a quick summary of her bio and some wanted plots/connections. but please feel free to read her full biography if you have the time, i worked very hard on it. c: also here is a tag for headcanons i’ve written, on the off chance that you’ve got even more time on your hands.

name: zahra malik age & d.o.b.: 22 & nov. 18 (scorpio) gender & pronouns: cis female & she/her faceclaim: mishti rahman

trigger warning: child neglect, sexual assault

grew up in tybee island, georgia. her southern accent becomes more prominent whenever she’s really angry or distressed.

CHILD NEGLECT TW: “raised” by a single mother who was incredibly neglectful and cared more for her one-night stands than raising her two daughters. zahra is the oldest, and had to take care of herself along with her younger half-sister rima. zahra never knew her father, and always guessed that her mother didn’t, either.

as zahra grew older, the boys on the island and the men her mother brought home began paying more attention to her. she was a beautiful girl, but the attention made her feel uncomfortable at first. eventually, she realized that she could use her sexuality to her advantage. she would be sweet on her mother’s boyfriends to make sure that they didn’t pay any attention to rima. she would also get intimate with shop boys in exchange for groceries, things like that. as a result, she got a bad reputation on the island.

wanted to become an actress after falling in love with classic old hollywood films. her dream is to star in movies one day, but knows that every serious actor does live theater. this is why she applied to alderidge, the most prestigious school she could find. never really expected to actually attend, until her mother kicked her out and left her with no where else to go.

SEXUAL ASSAULT TW: one of her mother’s boyfriends groped her in front of rima, and she retaliated by kicking the shit out of him. her mother took the boyfriend’s side and kicked her out, forcing zahra to leave rima (who is still a minor). promised to come back for her sister once she finally became successful enough to support them both.

with nowhere else to go, she hitch-hiked all the way to alderidge for her in-person audition. got in with a ton of scholarships, and was sort of seen as the school’s charity case. she immediately did whatever she can to break out of that mold and prevent people from pitying her, proving that she did deserve a spot.

of course, she has a reputation around alderidge, too. one of the most scandalous ones is that she’s sleeping with the directors, and that’s why she gets lead roles. zahra actually works damn hard to get noticed by orson, who often didn’t take her seriously because he didn’t think there was much substance beyond her pretty face.

that said, she’s also not above sabotaging her peers in order to get ahead. her argument is that if they can’t handle her, then they can’t handle the cutthroat world of showbiz. she is an incredibly talented actress, but she knows that raw talent isn’t enough to make it to the top and is more than willing to do whatever it takes to become successful.

of which includes stealing orson’s notebook from his house the night of the party! she knows the cast list for the school play and is gonna try to use that to her advantage.

personality:

can be ruthless and cruel but is a true romantic at heart. just wants people to see her for her talent, instead of just a pretty face. that said, she kind of prevents people from getting too close because she has a tendency to choose her career over anything else. as much as she despises being judged for her looks, she’s not above using her sensuality to her advantage to get what she wants from a situation. although she despised orson, she is secretly so frustrated that he died thinking she was merely a pretty face, and that she’ll never have the chance to stick it to him.

wanted connections:

competitive relationships!! Tthe nastier the better tbh. think ash ketchum/gary oak vibes. would love for someone she can verbally spare with, who relishes in her being typecast and isn’t afraid to put zahra in her place and use her reputation against her. at the same time, the two of them challenge each other to be better actors, and they would actually be devastated if the other wasn’t around to motivate them.

zahra isn’t above sabotaging or manipulating others to get ahead. i’d love for her to have hurt someone in the past and have them hold it against her. [erhaps try to confront her on it or even get back at her for what she did? aahra would argue that the program has always been stacked against her and that the industry is cutthroat, and any successful performer would do the things she did to stay ahead. but i want her to be forced to recognize that she’s hurting fellow performers to benefit herself, and that she’s not doing much to better the industry by playing along with a dirty game.

i love a good old fashioned exes plot. the angstier the better, ok. maybe zahra broke their heart b/c she was just using their affections towards her to get ahead in the program. or maybe they broke HER heart and now she’s extra nasty to them whenever they bump into each other? honestly anything goes here, i just want to give zahra an ex ok.

#ensembleintro

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longtimereaderfirsttimewriter · 5 years

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Reversed Circumstances

This is my very first attempt at fan fiction. The idea struck me just a couple of hours ago and I started writing. I have no clue if I’m formatting this the right way. Please reply with any tips or criticisms- just be kind! I don’t know yet if this is a stand-alone or a series or what.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to PB.

Also a quick word of thanks to the fiercely talented writers who inspired me to put this out there. @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @drakewalkerwhipped @burnsoslow @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria and so many others.

Reverse Circumstances

Prologue

The Royal Palace

Cordonia

Present

Drake Walker was sitting at his second favorite place in the world - the counter of a well-stocked bar. His most favorite place was next to the woman he... he loved — Jenna York, Crowned Princess of Cordonia.

“Love,” he thought. “It’s still so unbelievable that after knowing her her whole life, I can now admit that I love her.”

The thought was one that would typically bring joy to even the grumpiest of men. For Drake, who was in fact the grumpiest of men, joy was one of a million emotions the thought of loving Jenna triggered. There was joy. Fear. A familiar feeling of unworthiness that had plagued Drake for most of his life. And there was another feeling that had worked it’s way in to his stoic, brooding heart: Hope. Hope that she would follow her heart, not her crown. That she wouldn’t choose one of the dozen suitors vying for her heart. That she would choose him.

Before he could let himself truly enjoy the possibility of a future with her, the pleasant chattering of the hundreds of nobles around him grew into a cacophony of “oohs” and “aaahs” and he knew — Jenna was there.

He took one last sip of whiskey, closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath. But the second he turned around that breath, every breath in his body, came whooshing out as he saw her. She was stunning. “Fuck that,” he thought, “she’s always been stunning.”

Tonight she was extraordinary. Her gown was something beyond gold - miners could spend centuries digging and never find anything as brilliant as she was in this dress: a creation almost as beautiful as she. It was a soul-stirring blend of sparkling sequins and soft feathers. The perfect representation of its wearer — a glittery brilliance from afar, but when you have the chance to get close all you can see is a soft, delicate beauty.

Drake had been one of the chosen few who had seen the real Jenna. Truth told, he’d seen more of her than anyone. Not in THAT way (though the thought of being able to see her in that way made him reach for another swig of whiskey). But after twenty-three years of knowing Jenna and twelve months (years, decades, lifetimes) of loving her, he’d seen things others didn’t.

Where others saw a regal sense of confidence, he saw vulnerability. Where others saw power, he saw fragility. Where others saw composure and poise, he had seen passion and a desire to break the mold that centuries of royal blood had constructed for her.

Knowing the moment he’d been dreading and hoping for was coming near, Drake left the safety of the bar and joined the other men vying for Jenna’s hand:

Neville Vancouer, Future Earl of Cormery Isle and the slimiest and most entitled man Drake had ever met. Unfortunately Neville was considered a favorite because his home bordered two countries that had shaky diplomatic relationships with Cordonia. King Constantine, Jenna’s father, hoped a York-Vancouer marriage would strengthen those relationships.

Lord Rashad, Heir to Duchy Domvallier. Drake was never able to figure out the future duke. Rashad was a hard worker, and one of the few members of the court who didn’t rely on his title to get ahead. Another favorite according to the bookies (yes, bookies!) to win Jenna. Thankfully he seemed to have his eye on Hana Lee, Jenna’s college roommate and best friend.

Tariq Abadi, the foreigner. The son of an Saudi billionaire, Tariq was being sponsored by Duke Godfrey of Karlington. Godfrey had no sons. His daughter, Countess Madeleine of Fydelia, was a member of Jenna’s court. Godfrey had spent years trying to get close to the throne. He hoped Tariq’s money and status could tempt the King and his daughter.

Then there was Liam. Liam Richmond came into the competition as the dark horse. He was American, a distant cousin to Bertrand and Maxwell Beaumont. Bertrand was too old to court Jenna, and Maxwell was too... well, Maxwell. So they brought in a ringer - a distant American cousin that Jenna had met during a trip to New York City the year prior. The Beaumonts hoped that that one meeting and Liam’s “Hollywood good looks” would appeal to Jenna’s adventurous side. They weren’t wrong.

Jenna liked Liam, Drake knew that. Drake had grown to like him as well. The two became surprisingly fast friends. Among the things they had in common was that they’d both fallen for Jenna. But Drake prayed that the events of the past two months would induce her to make the one choice no one expected. That she would choose him.

Drake wasn’t a noble. His father was King Constantine’s protector - head of the King’s Guard. Jackson Walker had died years earlier, protecting Constantine from an attack on the throne. After Jackson’s death, Drake’s mother left Cordonia for her family’s ranch in Texas. With Jackson’s sacrifice in mind, King Constantine agreed to take Drake and his younger sister Savannah in as his wards. Through the years, Drake had looked at Jenna as another sister. But when Jenna came back from college in England, everything changed.

Now here he stood, vying for a chance at her hand and her heart. When his... well, when Olivia Nevrakis came to him and offered to sponsor him in the competition, his distaste for all things court-related went out the window and the possibility of a life at Jenna’s side prompted him to agree. He was the dark-horse and a late-comer to the competition, but he’d given it his all.

He often wondered what Olivia’s reason for sponsoring him was, but with all his efforts spent on courting Jenna he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Heh, if Olivia ever heard me refer to her as a horse, she’d probably skewer me with her stiletto and roast me over an open flame,” thought Drake.

So here they all were. And there stood Jenna. More beautiful than he’d ever seen her. There was also a new kind of confidence about her. He wondered if this confidence came with knowing who she was going to choose. Who she would spend her life with.

Jenna, along with the King and Queen, made their way to the center of the ballroom. As the conversation came to an excited halt, Constantine made his way to the microphone.

“On behalf of my lovely wife, Queen Regina, let me please welcome you to the Coronation Ball.” Constantine’s words were met with a cheerful applause. He gave a little cough and the crowd once again became still. “You know why we are all here. The time has come for me to step down from the throne. It is now time for my daughter, the incredible Princess Jenna, to take her place as Jenna, Queen of Cordonia. As our forefathers dictated centuries ago, before Jenna can become Queen, she must choose a King. My darling Jenna, the choice is yours.”

“Here it is,” Drake thought. “This is the moment where my life begins or ends.”

Jenna stepped to the microphone, stopping only to kiss her father on the cheek. And then she spoke. “Thank you all for being here tonight. My life is about to change in so many ways. I love Cordonia more than I can express. I pray that I grow to become the fiercely loyal ruler that my father was before me.” Jenna blushed under her father’s adoring gaze, then continued. “My father could not have ruled over Cordonia as well as he did without my mother by his side. Their love is what kept them going when times were rough, and their love for each other only made their victories more sweet.”

With that, Jenna paused to look each of her suitors in the eye. “Woah,” thought Drake, “was it me, or did she throw me a smile?! Could she really be about to choose me!?”

Drake’s question was about to be answered. “The time has come for me to decide who will stand with me during my reign,” Jenna continued. “I have chosen someone who has not only won my hand, but had won my heart.”

Drake took a look at the other men. Neville looked like he’d already won and was ready for his own coronation. Drake’s fists clenched as he saw that Tariq was very obviously undressing Jenna with his eyes.

Then he saw Liam. Liam had a smile on his face that he recognized all too well. He’d seen it in photos taken of himself with Jenna. He’d felt it on his own face every time Jenna touched him. “He loves her,” thought Drake. “Does she....” Before Drake could finish his thought, Jenna was speaking again.

“So, with no further ado, I choose, for my hand and my heart....”

All at once phones started beeping and buzzing. The blue electric glow of hundreds of screens began to cast an eerie glow on the room. Bastien, Jackson Walker’s protégée and friend, passed his own phone to Constantine and to Jenna.

“No way!!” “He wouldn’t” “The bastard!” Drake heard exclamations bursting out all around him. “There’s no way this is going to end well,” he thought. He began to make his way through the crowd. As everyone turned to look at him, Drake was searching for the only face that mattered.

Jenna looked broken. She faced Drake and his heart shattered. Where just a minute ago there was joy, he only saw anger, betrayal, and heartbreak.

He felt someone grab him and turned to see Bastien. “Drake Walker, you are hear-by banned from the Royal Court. You have twenty minutes to pack your belongings. You will then be taken to the airport where a ticket will be waiting for you. It will take you anywhere you’d like to go.”

“What!?! Bas, NO! The only place I want to go is to see Jenna! I don’t know what this is all about, but I’ve done nothing wrong. I love her!” Bastien stood calmly as Drake yelled and tried to pull away. Without a word, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed Drake what everyone else had already seen — a grainy photo of him and... Kiara!!

Kiara was a member of Jenna’s court and claimed to be her friend. A few weeks earlier, during a visit to Applewood Manor, Kiara and snuck into Drake’s room. When he entered later, she jumped out clad only in lingerie and tried to kiss Drake. Disgusted, Drake had tossed her out on her lace-covered ass. “Bas, I can explain! This isn’t what it looks like!”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Bastien said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I have orders to follow. I love you like a son, Drake, and I know you love Princess Jenna. The best thing you can do is go willingly. If it’s meant to be, you and Jenna will find your way back to each other.”

“Bullshit, Bastien. I’m going back in. I have to see her.”

Bastien reluctantly loosens his grip and Drake took a step towards the ballroom. Just then he heard Jenna begin to speak again. He picked up his pace and walked through the door just in time to hear Jenna’s voice, smaller than he’d ever heard it, say three words that broke his heart forever:

“I choose Liam.”

#drake x mc #trr au #choices #drake walker #drake x jenna

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codyfernsource · 5 years

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Full Cody Fern SXSW Talk Transcription

The first 15 minutes or so had originally been posted here but eakintata has done the absolute work and transcribed the whole interview! Make sure you give her some love because she deserves it. you can find her original copy here TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT

Shattering the Hollywood Mold: Bold and Unapologetic Monday, March 11, 2019 at the Australia House, SXSW

Jenny Cooney: So, there we go, that's the intro. So maybe you can, I mean -- did you really come from a town called Southern Cross? It's like the most perfect Australian, you know, ad. [laughs]

Cody Fern: I did, yeah. I was...

J: Is the mic working?

C: Is this on? I gotta hold it like so close… Yeah, I grew up in Southern Cross. What was the question?

J: You have a very -- you came from -- like, when we say small town, it was like not even a town, was it?

C: It was tiny. My parents still live there, or one of my parents still lives there. When I was growing up, it was just under 300 people. It's like a very farming, mining, high suicide rates, very Australian Outback. So like for those who know Perth, it's six hours inland from Perth.

[to someone in the audience] Hi!

[continuing] It's six hours inland from Perth by train, seven by car. So, it was tough. But I survived.

J: So how does a kid who grows up in a town that small in the middle of nowhere end up getting to L.A. I mean, where do you start? At what point when you were growing up did film or television or acting become something but you knew was a job and you wanted to do it?

C: I think I have to answer that in two parts. I mean, the first one is I knew that I wanted to act when I was five or six. I became very self-aware around five, and I think the realization for me was that everybody around me was always lying. And in a small country town gossiping is a real staple. So what would happen is, you know, my mother's friends, or whoever it happened to be, would be together, then someone would leave, then everybody would start gossiping. And I started to notice this in every circle in Southern Cross. It was its own kind of network, but nobody was telling the truth about how they were feeling.

And Australia is a very macho culture. They have a very kind of standard definition of what masculinity is, and in the country, that's kind of like masculinity on steroids. Which is so stupid. But I always found it to be really troubling and I remember, at five or six, having the awareness of, “Everybody is acting all the time.” I didn't know what it was, I couldn’t put words to it but everybody was playing a game, and that I saw the game really clearly, and nobody else seemed to.

And that was where I first kind of started to realize that this was something that I was interested in. But when I was 13, well leading up to 13, I would always watch really intense emotional films. But like, with the divas in them. I’m talking, like, Cher in Moonstruck, and Meryl Streep in Sophie's Choice, and Betty Davis in All About Eve. And they used to have one movie -- we had three channels -- and they would have one movie which is the Movie of the Week, and every day at 12:00 p.m. the same movie would play. So you could watch All About Eve seven times in one week. And so I did. [laughter]

And that's really where it started to form, was with divas, strangely enough. And then when I was 13, I saw Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth, and that was the first time that I had real clear understanding that she was not the Queen, but it was so real. It was so visceral, and it made so much sense, and the whole world was complete. But I knew she was Australian, so she couldn't be this person, and that was when I started to realize, “Wait, this is something that you can actually do.” Because before then a Hollywood celebrity or an actor or a star was kind of like a -- it’s like a unicorn, you know. And they're born like that. And then all of a sudden they're like, doing movies and that was their destiny. And then your destiny is to work on farm. So that was when I really understood.

The second part of the question -- Jesus Christ that was a long answer. [laughter] The second part of the question, or the second answer, is about, “How does a young boy from Southern Cross get to Hollywood?” And I’ll need years of therapy to understand it. I mean, I'm still trying to figure it out. You know, obviously, there was an action plan… This bag has my face on it. [laughter] You should hold that up [laughs]. So hysterical. This is so strange to me.

[Jenny holds up the bag.] The whole talk, I’m trying to talk, and I’m staring at me. [laughter] So, how did I get on people’s bags?

So there was a chain of events that led up to it but, I... the true and honest answer, and I'm sure we'll talk about it more after this, but is that it's still something that I try to compute, between nature and nurture, and fate and destiny, and work ethic and opportunity, because I really don't believe in luck. And for me, I always understood that I was born into -- and I love my family very much. They’re very dear to me. But I had always understood that I was born into a situation, into a society, into even a country, at that point in time, that was very difficult to expand outwards. And that I was kind of doomed to a life that had been chosen for me, and I understood very early on that if I was going to break free of that, that I was going to have to work really really really really hard. And that meant working harder than anybody else, and being very honest with myself, and really embracing and accepting failure. And I failed a lot. I mean I didn't start acting until I was 24, so I've been acting for six years.

J: You auditioned for all of the drama schools and got rejected, right?

C: Four times. The fourth time I auditioned for WAAPA, so the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts, the head of the academy at that time told me [there was a glitch here]. It was only recently that I have made a discovery -- and this is without any sense of ego or modesty -- it was only recently that I made the discovery, “Oh, that's why people…” Because, you know I had a hard childhood and a hard slog at boarding school. I was always very different. I was targeted by teachers. I was targeted by students. I was just targeted. It was just a very difficult world to be in. And because I was --

J: You mean, like, bullied?

C: Heavily, yeah. Verbally, physically, you know. And it was never -- it was hard, but I always knew, if I can just get through this, something is on the other side. And that all of this has to mean something. I’m a person who really searches for meaning in everything, and that that point in time, I knew that this has to mean something. It has to be for something. This can’t just be the end of it, you know? That this is what happens, and this is how I feel, and then I just go on. I knew that it had to really be for something, because the trauma that I was experiencing, particularly the bullying, was so intense that if I didn't have an outlet to use it, I would’ve self-destructed.

But now, in retrospect, where I am in my life, having just turned 30, I'm able to look back and really understand, “Oh, these people were really scared of me. They were really, really scared.” And that's what people do when they're afraid. You can’t be something that they’re not. You can't ask questions that they're not willing or ready to ask themselves. You can't say things that they don't believe in. You can't challenge conventions that they need to hold onto. And so at a certain point in time, you just have to get on with it, you know?

J: And you did.

C: And I did.

J: Did you find when you started acting, on the other side of the whole experience, it was also in some ways a form of escape from, you know, some of the difficult --

C: No. Acting was never an escape for me. Oh, well, maybe it was. I don't think it was ever an escape for me, as it was actually turning towards all of the feelings head-on, and having a place to explore them. Because one of the great things about acting is when you first begin -- and I teach a lot of workshops to specifically teenagers in rural areas who are never going to the ability to… Well, never say never. I’m here. I enjoy working with teenagers because they have such a depth of feeling that is so silenced by adults. It's frightening, I understand, especially at schools, for teachers and for adults to deal with the intense world of the teenager. But when you are spoken to as an equal, when somebody acknowledges your existence, and that you are not just the child of somebody who has to learn something, so that you can go out in the world and work and then retire, it's pretty great what comes out.

It's a way to explore, acting -- it began for me as a way to explore all of my feelings especially in a culture that didn't allow you to have them. That everything needed to be above board all the time. And I have always had an intense depth of feeling. It changes, of course, because if you’re just, you know, feeling things all the time, as an actor, it's not great acting. It's just emoting. So it becomes, you know, it becomes something else. But it began for me really as a way to actually not escape from, but confront myself.

J: So you ended up going from Perth to Sydney? First?

C: I joined a -- I was working for Ernst & Young at the time.

J: You were in accounting?

C: I was in accounting.

J: You got your degree in commerce, right?

C: I got my first degree in commerce. That’s so wanky, “I got my first degree in commerce.” But I did. I got my first degree in commerce, I majored in management and marketing, and I did my honors in strategic consumer behavior, which was all about, like, you know, “How can I sell this thing better if I manipulate people into buying it?” And and then I worked for Coca-Cola for a while, and Ernst & Young. And then I hit a certain point in my life where I realized that I hated myself. And I hated everything about my life, and I was essentially having a nervous breakdown. And that included understanding that I hated the people that I was hanging around with, I hated the music I was listening to, I hated the clothes that I was wearing, I hated the direction I was going, I hated everything. And the common denominator was me. So, I had to do something about it, and I had to do something about it rapidly.

Because there was the slow death which involves making a lot of money and being incredibly unhappy or there was falling headfirst into the abyss, and you know it's like, well, at least if I’m gonna die, I'm gonna die falling from 10,000 feet, you know, hitting pavement at 1,000 miles an hour. And that’s gonna be more pleasant. So as bleak as that sounds, that fall is a lot of fun. And I jumped. And I joined an experimental theater group, and walked out of Ernst & Young. Which was... tricky. It's another story for another time. I was a very troubled kid at that point in time. I had never had real friends, I'd never had anything stable besides my family. I was, you know, doing wild things and sleeping in parks some nights because I wasn’t able to go home, you know, out of my mind. It was just like I was losing myself.

And then I joined an experimental theater group, and an acting class, and that's where it began. And then that grew into professional theater, and that professional theater led me to Sydney where I was cast in War Horse. And, you know, what's interesting is that every single casting director in Australia, almost all directors in Australia, had always said you're not Australian enough to be in this production you can't do this because you're not Australian enough. You're too pretty, you’re too this, you’re too that, you’re too -- and I never felt that. It was always, you know, strange to me because people are always, I realized, throwing labels on to me. And I'm not a label, I’m not a category. I’m more like a verb, you know? [laughter]

J: I’m gonna borrow that one day.

C: I just think that I'm always changing, and that I'm always growing, and nobody knew where to put me, or what to do with me, so they just said that I couldn't do it. And then I worked with Ellen Burstyn in a master class -- take that NIDA -- and she was the first person really to say, “You,” -- she called me out in front of the entire master class, you know, there were 300 people and there were 18 people from around Australia who were working with her, 17 of, like, the most famous Australian actors, and me, who had lied my way into this workshop. And she said, in front of everybody, “You have real talent. You could really do this. But you’re gonna need to work really really really hard. So, who do you want to be?” And that's when I knew, you know. “OK, it’s going to be tough. But I can do this.” And still nobody would cast me in anything. [shrugs]

J: So the first time I met you is when you won the Heath Ledger scholarship, which was Australians in Film in L.A., which I’m part of, that gave you that award. But it didn’t open doors overnight for you. Can you talk a little bit about that time in your life? That was, though a definite step in the direction of people saying, “We see you, we know you have talent, it’s just a matter of time.”

C: It’s so important, it’s so important, you know. To be witnessed, to be acknowledged, is one of the first steps. It's only the first step. It doesn't, you know -- because you yourself need to get over the need for everybody else's validation. But when you have professional bodies or organizations, and something like the Heath Ledger scholarship… Again, you know, when I won the Heath Ledger scholarship, everybody was stunned. There was a sense of, you know, there are all of these, like home-and-away people. These Australian actors, and these -- and everybody was like, “Who the hell is this kid, that just won this?” You know? I mean, I won it off like, self-tapes. It wasn’t like I had some big CV.

J: The judging panel was pretty big, at the time.

C: Colin Farrell was one of them. That was fun. What a cool guy he is. So I was all of a sudden being acknowledged by all of these people, and this body that was saying, “You know what? We actually really believe you can do this.” It was the first step in that there were many to come, because then for the first three and a half years in Los Angeles, I could not get arrested. I was living -- I had the $10,000 that I was given from that, and you know, that included -- you have to move into a house, you have to have to have things to live on. I had a mattress on the floor, I had a couch, and I was very happy. And me and my roommate would buy everything that we owned from Bed Bath & Beyond then every month, it would be like, “What can go back? So that we can make the rent?” So we’d be returning the curtains, and we’d be returning the curtain rods. You know? Things like we’d return the couch covers, and the pillow inserts. You know, we were adding it up, and we were making rent.

And we were working. I was auditioning all the time, and again it was the same thing was coming up: “You’re too this, you’re too that, you’re too,” -- nobody knew where to place me. Everybody wanted me to play the boy next door, and I just didn't want to do it. I just refused to do it.

J: I never lived next door to anyone that looked like you. [laughter]

C: Oh, shucks! So I just -- so I played a game for a while, that everybody wanted me to play, which was, “You're going to be the next great action star.” How boring. “You’re, you know, that's what you're gonna be.” Ugh, so boring. So, but I did it. I wore really -- I'm sure when you met me I was wearing really plain clothes, I was really just like, “How's it going?” You know, I really wanted to just be OK. I just wanted to be liked. I just wanted to work. And it didn't work. It didn't work. And then I went through three and a half years of hell, but that was so much fun, because it really tested my mettle. It made, you know -- when you are living in survival mode in Los Angeles -- and I’d never been to Los Angeles. I got off the plane in Los Angeles and I was like, “No matter what happens. this has to work out, so I just have to bank on myself.” I had no friends, I knew nobody.

I slept on a girl's yoga mat for two weeks, and she would come home, and she would have like schizophrenic outbursts and… it was weird. And I was sleeping on a yoga mat for $900 a month, because I didn't know that that wasn't what you did in Los Angeles. And then at night we would put plays together -- it was really strange. It was very strange. But then it got more stable and it tested my mettle, like, “How badly do I really want this? And how hard am I willing to work for it?” And every single time I had a self-tape, every single time I had an audition, for me it was like the herculean effort of crafting a full performance. And no matter what they said to me I was going to do what I wanted to do and what I knew was right, I mean, obviously with notes and what-not. But what I mean was really working, really working. Because if this is my only opportunity, then I need to love what I'm doing, and that includes auditioning. Because if you're not gonna let me do this, I’m gonna be the one that gets to do this, and you can’t tell me no. Because I love this. So all I need is to audition; I don’t need you to give me the role.

And slowly things started to shift. It was between me and Dane DeHaan, and me and Dane DeHaan, and me and Miles Teller, and me and -- and they still couldn’t figure out, “Is he Miles Teller? Is he Dane DeHaan? Is he Logan Lerman?” And I was like -- they just couldn’t figure it out. And then finally, Ryan Murphy came along, and said, “I know who he is; he’s Cody Fern.” And just like that, the world changed, overnight. Because Ryan Murphy said, “You’re not anybody else other than who you are and I know that you can act. So, let’s get on with it.”

J: You had wanted -- you had thought that Ryan Murphy was the guy that would recognize that.

C: I knew he was the guy. I’d said to my agent --

J: You just had to get in the room with him at some point, right?

C: I’d said to my agents, “You need to introduce me to Ryan Murphy.” And they said, “That’s not how it works.” You know, I was like, “This Ryan guy is really onto something. Trust me.” This was years ago, you know, but I was like, “He’s really -- he’s got something going on.” And everyone was like, “Yeah, OK, Cody.” And you know, he was famous. Ryan was famous, but American Crime Story had not come out yet. So he had done Glee and he had done Nip/Tuck and he’d done -- but it was really when American Crime Story hit, the people went, “Whew, my god. Ryan Murphy is a genius, genius, genius.” And I was like, “Yeah, he's been around for years, guys. You didn't see this?”

But, you know, what's funny is that the process of that three and a half years of testing my mettle also became about workshopping for myself as an actor, and a human being, and growing and learning and bringing something to the table as an actor. Because I don’t see myself as an actor, I see myself as an artist. And that is not just, “I'm an artist and so therefore I finished my work.” It means that the work has just begun, and I need earn it, constantly, every day. You have to earn it. You can't just say it and then, like, that's it. And then somebody else, like, proclaims that you are that, and then it’s over and done with. It doesn't work like that for me. And it was a process of becoming more authentic, and the more authentic I became, leading up to the point where I auditioned for Ryan Murphy, all of the sudden it just -- doors started flying open. And now people ask me who I am. Now that -- now, you know, people are -- now that, like, I am the Genderfuck Rebel, which I... you know, OK.

J: Which was written on the cover of British CQ, which I wish I had a big copy of right now. Just came out. If you go on Cody's Instagram, you’ll see a copy of the cover.

C: Yeah, it’s really sexy. It’s really [goofy?]

J: There is a picture of him and it says Genderfuck Rebel, right?

C: Mm-hmm.

J: There you go.

C: And I don’t mind. Like, I now start to understand that, and I’m OK to accept that, that when you function outside of the realm of what people expect from you, it's rebellious. And I'm OK with that. I'm good with that. Because now I don't have to do what they want me to do. I get to do what I want to do.

J: Right. Well, I mean the name of this Game Changers panel is Shattering the Hollywood Mold: Bold and Unapologetic. Which, pretty much, if you look that up, would be a photo of you. So, talk a bit more about shattering the mold. I mean, Ryan saw you as you, and put you into some really unique roles. Were you still feeling that you didn't fit into a particular model? Did you not want to fit into a mold? Or is the mold, like, not fitting in?

C: No, you know, it’s interesting. It’s hard to talk about, because I've tried to figure it out so many times myself. I think in any one day, I -- you know, I've always struggled with my identity, in every single realm of my life. It's been hard to figure out who I am. And to figure out how I got to where I got to, and it's -- it's a mind game. And my mind is really, you know me, it's really like a struggle sometimes. But a fun struggle, at least. And I studied -- my second degree was in psychology and I really love the psyche, and, you know all of the intricacies of the psyche. The shadow and the ego and what makes up a human being. But for me, what I find fascinating about all of that is that every time I think I’ve figured myself out, it slips out of my fingers. And it can be that you're wearing different clothing, it can be that you’ve been a different person, it could be that your interest has changed, or one day you wake up and you just don't know who you are anymore. And that process of constantly finding myself, knowing who I am, and finding an expression for it, and then losing completely, has meant that I actually -- I can't stay with one thing for too long, and I have to go with my instinct at the time. So breaking the mold, for me, has really become about…

You know, what I did at the Golden Globes -- I knew we were going to talk about this at some point. What I did at the Golden Globes was not about… Because Vogue called. And said, you know, we want to do a piece on you, about your Golden Globes look, and we’ll talk about the Golden Globes look and blah, blah, blah. And I said, “Well, I don’t want to talk about it. Because I don’t want to have to explain it.” You know, I’d said what I had to say when I rocked up, wearing what I was wearing.

J: Which, if people didn’t see you, do you wanna describe?

C: Well, it was beautiful.

J: It was. It was a sheer black shirt, what was it, like a chiffon?

C: Maison Margiela, sheer with pants very similar to these, and Tabi boots. And makeup. And it was glamorous. And I wanted to do that because it’s so boring on the red carpet. you know it's like every guy comes wearing the same thing that his mother dressed him in for his year 12 formal. [laughter] And I just don’t get why we’re continuing to do it. Like, time after -- and then people are like, “Oh, we spent six months making this tuxedo.” Really? You could’ve got it off the rack at Target. [laughter]

So, I just didn’t understand. I also needed people to help me with that, you know, and I had a lot -- I have a lot of people in my life who really helped. And it just became about -- what’s beautiful? And what’s art? And that you yourself can become an art piece. And that you yourself can become -- I wanted to wear what I found stunning. Because it’s, you know -- I wanted to feel… beautiful is what I wanted to feel on that carpet. Because it was my first Golden Globes, and my whole life I’ve been told, you know, I was an ugly, terrifyingly stupid, dumb, untalented -- I mean, you name it, I’ve been called it. And it was a real statement to myself, I didn’t care about anybody else, that, “You’re here, Cody. You made it to this point. Wear what you wanna wear.”

J: And you wore it right up on that stage when Versace won the Golden Globe.

C: We won the Emmy. Or Golden Globe! Jesus Christ.

J: So, yes, there you were.

C: Beg your pardon.

J: It’s all right.

C: We won the Emmy as well.

J: You won the Emmy as well.

C: I wasn’t at the Emmys because I was working on Horror Story that night. That’s why I didn’t make that. But yeah, that was a real -- I remember being on stage the Golden Globes and just being like, “Breathe. Breathe.” It's like, “There’s Lady Gaga, there’s…” You know, it’s just like -- it was wild. And especially for a kid who was just like, “That's what I want to do.” I mean it's, I mean, no one in Southern Cross had ever been to university, to college. How do I figure out how that happened for me? How do I figure out how that, and the courage that it took to do that? And it’s like at some point in time I realize it's just about -- you’ve just gotta put your hands down in the mud, and get on with it. You've just gotta do what you feel is right, and... fuck ‘em. You know?

J: Yeah

C: You’ve got to get on with it.

J: So, I mean, talking about bold and unapologetic was exactly what you decided to do on the Golden Globes red carpet. So, I know you don’t want to get into the why and the whole Vogue thing.

C: No, I don’t mind with you.

J: But I did find the story you told me about the stylist who insisted that you shouldn't dress like that, that you should do the tux thing. That was someone you hired and then you had to…

C: Actually, that was an interesting one because two days before the Golden Globes, you know, I’m going through designers after designers after designers, and nobody knew who I was at that point in time, so nobody cared to dress me. So I really had to figure out what I wanted to wear, and I had given her a list of all the designers that I wanted and really what I wanted to do at the Globes, and that I wanted to make a statement about gender. And the statement that was being made about gender is however you want to take it. I'm not going to explain it to anyone because I think it's -- what I did was for other people to interpret. But I rock up to the thing and she's got like a Hugo Boss suit and, like, you know, another Hugo Boss suit. And then there are dresses and skirts, and I'm like, “OK, I get it, but what is this about?” And she's like, “Well, you wanna, like, mess around with gender.” And I was like, “No no no no no.” That's -- it's not edgy because you're wearing a skirt on the red carpet, that's not what I want to do. I wanna wear something that's objectively beautiful, that's really, because, in and of itself it's a beautiful piece.

And then I got a lot of backlash from people being like, “This is too risque, this is going to be received as offensive, this is going to be -- you should really do what everybody else does.” And I was like losing sleep over it, coming -- you know, we're supposed to be at the event on the Friday, and I didn't have anything to wear, and it's the Golden Globes, you know. It's like one of the year's biggest fashion events, as well as, you know, what it actually is honoring. So I did it all myself.

J: So you went shopping.

C: I went shopping. I bought the pieces with my own money. I paid for people to come and help me with my makeup and with my hair. Every element of it was my own thing.

J: And the afterwards, you were named one of the best dressed on the carpet by everybody.

C: I beat Lady Gaga.

J: So that must have felt, you know, like, pretty great.

C: Great. It felt great. It felt great.

J: You took -- you put yourself out there, again, and that people recognize you were being authentic. You know, that's where -- when your motives come from that place.

C: That's why I can say it felt great. Because it doesn't come from a place of ego or immodesty. It’s not like, “Oh, I’m this and I’m that, and I’m blah, blah, blah.” Ugh, you know, I don't care for that. But I also am like, “Now I am able to absorb some good,” you know. I used to be a very self-loathing, self-hating, self-chastising person. And now, I’m learning to -- when you see good, like, receive it. You know? Allow yourself to breathe it in. Because it's not all about being tortured, and I'm plenty tortured, so I can honestly say it felt good. It felt good, because it felt like -- I didn't need it, by the way. I thought that it was gonna go one of two ways. The next day, it was gonna be an absolutely joke in all of the trades, and I would be able to stand in the middle of all that and say, “I did what I did, and I know it was right.” Or it's going to go the other way. And it was strange. There were people on the carpet, and everybody was like, “Who is this guy? And who cares?” And then I hit that red carpet and there was an audible gasp from the wall of photographers. And Rami Malek had just walked the carpet, who was nominated, and all of a sudden everybody was screaming my name. And that's when I knew this was gonna be big.

J: And then Billy Porter took it one step further on the Oscar red carpet.

C: Billy Porter is the best human being alive today. I love Billy. We worked together on Horror Story, and Billy is a hero.

J: Yeah, he is. Now let's talk about your work, and particularly starting off with your Ryan Murphy work. Versace was the first thing you did. That role was a difficult role because, you know, we're in this very dark world of this guy that we know what he's going to do, and he's in love, or really, obsessed with your character. What was it like, you know, working in that environment? I don't know if Ryan directed any of your episodes, [Cody shakes his head no] and you got to know Darren Criss and everybody else. What was that experience like, to be on the set like that?

C: That was one of the best experiences of my life. Once you've worked on a Ryan Murphy set, particularly something like American Crime Story, everything else is ruined for you. Because it's a family, first and foremost. And if you don't belong in the family, then, you're excommunicated. And I don't mean that in the sense of, like, you did bad work, or you blah, blah, blah. But like, if you don’t fit in, if you’re not a kind person, and if -- the two things that matter the most in the Ryan Murphy world is that you are kind, and that you are hard-working. You've got to show up day after day. I got that script. I knew that this was going to be my door in with Ryan, I knew that I was gonna play this role, and I knew what this guy was going through. I could play this.

I flew back from London for the audition -- I was working on a script at the time in London -- and I flew back. And I decided that I need to empty the tank in this audition room. This is the last audition I'm going to do for a year and a half, because I’m gonna go off and I’m gonna direct a film. Because it was just becoming too heartbreaking, having people be like, “You were the best person for the role but we’re not -- you're not getting it.” I was like, “I can’t do this anymore. My heart is breaking.” And then I got the call from Ryan. And that set was the most loving, supportive environment, especially because I came in with what was possibly the hardest task of the series, which was -- we know that this guy is going to die from the outset, and you need everybody to fall in love with you, and you need to play the most extreme emotions imaginable, from the very first scene that you'll be filming, where your best friend's head is beaten in with a clawhammer, and everybody has been working already for eight weeks, and everybody knows each other and is a family, and... good luck.

So I really had to work my ass off. And the writers, Tom Rob Smith is so amazing and Darrin and I have completely different ways of working, you know. I’m really, like, I have the earphones on and I'm very, like, you know sitting on emotions and things. Because in that role, I needed it. And that’s the difference between something like Versace and Horror Story is in Versace, if you’re not, if that character -- he was a real person. He has real family who are suffering today, still, because of what happened. And that we knew going in I'd been told by the team that David and Jeff's story, the thesis of this story -- there's everything else around it, and people want to watch you know Penelope Cruz they want to watch Gianni, but it was really a Trojan Horse for the truth of what was happening, which was gay shame.

And David embodied all of that, you know, David had to die because of that. And I was only supposed to be in one episode, so they kept writing me in. That's when I knew, something's happening here. But I had one episode to do it in. So it was a lot of fun, but it was it was a big responsibility and I really shouldered that. And it was hard.

J: And then at some point, while you were still filming that, Ryan took you aside and said, “I’ve already got another role for you?”

C: Ryan and I had not met, really, when I started filming. And I kind of barged into Ryan’s office and said, “I wanna meet Ryan Murphy.” You know, I just literally -- and everybody was like, “You should not do this, this is bad, this is bad, this is bad.” And Ryan was sitting there eating lunch. And his assistant was like [shakes his head]. And I kinda left being like, “I’m about to get fired.” And then I got a phone call, and it was, you know, “Ryan Murphy wants to see you in his office.” And… I’m about to get fired. And he said, you know, “I saw your addition, blah, blah, blah. I haven't seen your dailies yet. I don't watch an episode until it's fully cut together because I want to give all the artists involved their opportunity, you know.”

And then I got called in after he saw the first cut of the fourth episode, and it was on. And that's when he was like, “I want you to play everything.” And he asked, he said, “What do you wanna do?” And I said, “I wanna work with Sarah Paulson and Kathy Bates.” And he said, “You need to work with Sarah Paulson. You’re gonna be the lead in the next Horror Story.” OK. You know, I was like, “All right.” And he told me the role that I would be playing, which was not the role that I ended up playing. I was gonna be the good guy. And two days before Horror Story started, I was told, “You’re Michael Langdon, the Antichrist.”

J: A little bit of a switch.

C: Good luck. Yeah. I love it. I love that.

J: So then you got on a set with Kathy Bates and Sarah Paulson. That must have been like -- for a boy who grew up with the divas...

C: And Jessica Lange and Joan Collins. I mean I was just like rolling around in the bed of candy, it felt like. It was -- it was so easy to do that role. It really was easy. It was, because you’re working with Sarah Paulson -- if you're ever lost in a scene, look at Sarah. You're in the room with Jessica Lange. Throw your ideas out the window and have fun. Kathy Bates and I -- it was like a mother and son relationship that became a real-life mother and son relationship, you know. She calls me son. And I had loved them all so much. And it was -- the first scene that I had in American Horror Story is in the second episode, when I have to interrogate Sarah Paulson's character, and it's a nine-and-a-half-page scene. Everybody else has been filming for three weeks, and I come in, and this is my first scene, and I had got the script two days before, and it's nine pages, and its opposite Sarah Paulson. Whew.

J: And you have to be the bossy one.

C: I have to be in charge. But what was great about it was that I really had to breathe, and I made sure that I was breathing, and my feet were on the ground. And I was like, “OK, you know, you're here. This is where you've always wanted to get to, so lock in, and go. Like, this is your chance, go.” And it was funny because we started acting and I'll never forget that Sarah kind of looked at me as if like, “Who the fuck is this guy?” You know? And after, we spoke about it she was like, “Normally people come in, and they’re so intimidated and blah, blah, blah.” And she was like, “And you just came straight out of the gate with choices.” And we were kind of laughing by the end of the scene, because, we were making power moves on each other. Like I’d be like, “Take a seat,” and she wouldn’t sit down. [laughter] And so I was like, “Ugh.” Really just threw me for six. So I knew that she had this hump on her back. You know, and that some point in time, it was kind of like -- there was going to be this big moment so I get to say, well like, “Take off your dress.” And it’s like, she’s like, “I’m not gonna do that.” You know, in the scene. And, we had fun.

J: That’s awesome. House of Cards. That was a weird experience, I would imagine.

C: Next.

J: Because you were actually already working on that -- we won’t go, well, we won’t go there. We’ll just go to the experience of making it. Because --

C: I was the last person to be… dangerously close to the clutches of Kevin Spacey. It's true. It's true. I mean, it's awkward, but... the man was a monster. He's a very talented actor, but he was not a very nice human being. And he was not a very generous professional. And it was messed up. Everything that was happening on that set. It was messed up. I mean what -- you know, they were holding it together. I'm not talking about anybody outside of Kevin Spacey and Kevin Spacey's actions. But at some point in time, you know, the needle’s going to have to move towards talking about complicity. And that's just the fact. And I had a great experience working with Robin. I loved working with Robin Wright. Robin Wright is one of my heroes. I mean, I had been watching House of Cards longer than I had been acting. And that was one of the first things, you know -- I wanted to be Claire Underwood. So, that was --

J: I loved that you wanted to be Claire, not Frank.

C: Yeah, because she’s so good. I mean, she’s so good. And she’s a genius.

J: And you had Diane and Greg Kinnear as your parents.

C: Diane Lane, oh my god. And Greg Kinnear. I had an amazing role. I mean, I -- we'd been shooting for three months. My role was very different. So when we came back to shoot that --

J: Just tell everybody -- you’d already been shooting for that long. Everything happened, he was fired. And then they had to take time to rewrite the script. And then you all had to come back.

C: And then we all had to come back.

J: And pick up the pieces.

C: We didn't have to come back, we chose to come back. And Robin was really a big part of that. And then we had to pick up the pieces. But, you know, it was a difficult process. I really wanted to be there, because it was -- it was this moment. It was supporting Robin, and it was really important. But as an actor, you know, it was one of the most challenging experiences of my life. Because here you are in an environment that feels fundamentally like it’s fallen apart. And your character has gone from being the arch-nemesis of the series to being taffeta. And nobody -- you know, everything is -- as it's going on around -- you know, this is to say, everyone on that show is phenomenal. The writers are some of the most exceptional writers in the world. Frank and Melissa as show-runners are exceptional. Robin Wright, you know, bow down. But that doesn't -- I can hold two things at one time. That it was one of the great honors of my life to be on House of Cards. You know? House of Cards. Ugh!

J: It’s known as the house that built Netflix.

C: The house that built Netflix. And at the same time hold in the other palm of my hand that it wasn't a great experience for me, and that's OK to say. In that it was very hard for me as an actor, and for the character. I mean it's like, you know -- I have a joke that is like, people talk about Duncan and what Duncan is doing more than Duncan is actually doing anything. “You gotta watch out for Duncan Shepherd.” “Yeah, well, where the fuck is he?” So, I’m gonna get in trouble for all of that.

J: We’ll tell everyone to turn off their tape recorders today, whenever they’re doing it.

C: The truth is that it was, you know -- I was happy to be a part of that moment and that movement, because hopefully things have shifted and changed. Because my opinion on it -- everyone is, you know I'm tired of this, I’m really tired of political correctness at the moment. And everyone stepping around on eggshells and nobody having an opinion, and everybody being very careful about what they say, in case the Twitter mob comes after them. And ugh. It just drives me crazy. This group-think at the moment drives me mental. And the truth is, it was it was wonderful to be a part of that experience, in that moment and what was happening, and to support Robin, and to stand behind it. But the needle now needs to move towards talking about complicity and the systems that are put in place to allow people like Kevin to do what Kevin was doing and he was doing it. And I’m OK to say it.

J: OK. I’m gonna open it up for questions --

C: Bold and unapologetic. [laughter]

J: Like I said, look that up in the dictionary, and it’s your face.

C: I’m absolutely going to get in trouble for that. But I don’t give a fuck, So…

J: All right. So who has a question for Cody?

Q1: Can you tell us anything about upcoming projects that you’re working on?

C: I can tell you absolutely nothing. But I can tell you that I am working on upcoming projects.

J: With Ryan Murphy?

C: I can’t say that. I can’t not say that. Maybe. Maybe, we'll see. I mean, the way Ryan works is very much like, you know a week out of what's going on. So we'll see if that works out. But you know, I would throw myself in front of a bullet for Ryan Murphy, so, you know, if he wants me to play a doorknob in a scene, I’ll play a doorknob.

J: But you have been doing writing and directing and stuff. Do you want to talk a little about, you know, some of your own projects?

C: Yeah, I love writing, and I love directing. I mean, directing a feature film had to take a backseat for the moment because, you know, first and foremost, what I love is acting, and to really shoot a feature film, and do what you want to do with it, and do it right is 18 months of your life. From, you know, pre-production to production to post-production to festivals to getting your mental sanity back in order. So I can't really afford at the moment -- well, I can, but I don't want to take 18 months off. I love acting. I love it. I mean, it's really you know --

I think we've reached a place, with artistry and with acting, that frightens me. Because what's begun to happen is that we've forgot that it's an art form, and it's become purely about entertainment, and what's happening in schools at the moment, what's happening around the world is that people don't grow up anymore -- You know, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “Famous,” is the number one answer. Famous. It's not that much fun. It's tough. I mean, I’ve had things happen to me recently that are unimaginable, you know, my family being targeted. It's horrible. It’s not an end in and of itself; it's a byproduct of something, and I think that we've reached a time where there are so many drama schools and there are so many acting classes and there are so many -- but people don't know what they're going to learn anymore. They're going because they want to be somewhere that they see on the television, and I think it's really going to come from somewhere deep inside of you. And we’re starting to ask more and more, like, “What can I get out of this,” as opposed to, “What can I give?” You know? “What can I really give to this art form and to this craft?” And I love that with writing and directing, but if I’m going to give it, I need to give all of myself to it. I can't do it half-assed. And in the content wars that are going on at the moment, where it’s like, it’s OK to make something that’s absolutely trash, as long as millions of people are watching it. You know, it's a subversive act to make something that's really meaningful and to get really honest about what that is.

The reason I did Horror Story, for example, and was able to play the Antichrist was because I was ready to talk about evil, and what great evil is, and what great evil means, and how we get there, and who's right and who's wrong in that equation. In American [Crime] Story, we were talking about gay shame, and about homophobia and about a man who couldn't come to terms with himself, but had one final heroic act before he died, which was to be authentic. To face his murderer head-on to say, “It's over.” You know, “I know who I am now, and I'm gonna die for it.” People aren’t willing to die for anything anymore. And I don't mean, like, you know, physically, just physically. I mean metaphorically. I mean, like, what is your street value? When you walk into a bar, and all of the shit that you tell people, and all of the things that you say you are, fades away, and you actually have to be who you really are, what’s your street value? What do you have to offer? Because fame ain’t it, you know? There's enough famous people. Rant over. Next. [laughter]

J: All right, we’re gonna let this person here ask a question, who won the award for having driven the furtherest, 500 miles to be here today. Do you wanna take the microphone? OK, go ahead.

C: Everyone can hear.

Q2: Are you satisfied with how Michael's story ended in Horror Story? And if you're not, how would you want it this story arc to end?

C: I think that it's Ryan's story, and I'm there to service Ryan’s story. So, there are things that you may be thrilled with, things that you may not be thrilled with. But the thing about Michael’s ending that I love the most is that Michael Langdon dies as an innocent teenage boy, before we understand that he is the great evil that he has become. So what happens when you do that is you ask that question, “If you got to travel back in time would you kill baby Hitler?” Right? That's the question that's being asked in that scene. Would you do it? Would you leave him in the street? And there’s subtleties to that ending, which people don't necessarily recognize. The beauty of when Constance Langdon looks at the Murder House, when Michael asks her to drag him there to be with his family for all of time, and she looks down to Michael and she says, “Go to hell,” and she walks away. She doesn't say it with animosity; she understands the buck stops here, you know? With great suffering and great pain, because, remember, Constance kills herself, so it's actually a very tragic ending. And the ending that comes from that, with the Antichrist being reborn in another form, it's like, yeah, I'm going to stop the devil. And that's the statement about evil. It's always coming back. It's coming back; you've just got to decide when you pick up the sword and fight it, and whose, you know, which side of the field are you on. So, I don't question Ryan’s judgments. I just play them.

Q3: Cody, Katrina Cooper. Thanks, you’ve shared some really personal stuff with us about your childhood.

C: Did I? I try not to.

Q3: No, it’s terrific. I think it’s really inspiring for young people out there who might be going through tricky stuff themselves. I kinda have two questions relating to that. Number one, what advice do you have for young people who feel that they’re not fitting for whatever reason? I mean, what made you strong enough to get through that? And number two, for people like me -- a parent of kids or teachers or friends or whatever -- what can people do to support kids that feel like you felt?

J: It’s a great question.

C: How much time have we got?

J: Yeah, really. How much time do we have, by the way?

C: Who cares?

J: Is there someone here who can tell me?

C: OK, so I'm gonna answer this question, and I don’t mind. I will keep going until the sun comes up.

J: Someone kinda give me a wrap-up signal?

C: When we need it. So, the first question was, what advice would I give to somebody, you know, a younger person maybe like myself, maybe like you, who doesn't fit in. And my advice would be -- and how to deal with that. My advice would be: don't fit in. It's so boring to fit in. It’s so, it’s so banal. I mean, it is just, like, a boring life, when you fit in. But that's easy to say, because when you're young, especially when you're a very young teenager, and you don't fit in, and people target you for it, and you’re bullied, and you're called names, and you might even be physically hurt for it -- it doesn't feel like not fitting in is a good option.

But let me tell you this: every single person who ever got out of high school alive, and who is looking back on their life, always says, “Man, I wish I could just go back, knowing what I know now, and I do it all again.” Because you would really be like, “Fuck ‘em all.” You know, like, I wish I went to my year 12 prom wearing whatever I wanted to wear, you know, and like, I'm not gonna say the things that I would do. But really, you know, like the thing about fitting in is that the people who are driving that horse, the ones who are most popular, the ones who are the head of those groups, are losers. They're losers, I mean, it's so pathetic. I'm telling you now, you're gonna get to like 10 years outside of school, and if you've been bullied, and if you don't fit in, you have to work harder than everybody else, you have to suck up your feelings, you have to grow a thick skin, you have to get resilient, and you have to get on with it. And about 10 or 15 years from now, you know, you'll go back to your hometown, and you'll see them, and you'll write me a letter, and we'll talk.

It's not to say that I'm, you know, there's any sense of bitterness or what-not about that, it's just about -- listen, pressure makes diamonds. In hard times, really galvanize who you are and who you can be. And if you have the strength to get through them, if you have the conviction of your own moral compass, if you can find beauty within yourself and within the world, if you can survive it, you’re gonna thrive when you get out of school. Don't worry, school is such a short period of time. You're never going to see those people again. And if you do, good for you. But, chances are, you’re not going to see the people you were at school with ever again. And you've got to get on with your life. That's the thing about fitting in, right? You live your life for other people, so that other people feel comfortable. How boring is that? You know, it's really boring to fit in, so don't worry about it. Don't worry about if people like you or not. Lots of people hate me. I love it. [laughter]

J: Just the other part of that question, then we have to wrap up. What would you say to a parent?

C: That's a tough one, because for me, you know, parents do the best they can with the means that they have. I had to understand that about my parents. I had to go back and really be like, you know, they were doing the best they could. But I think that my advice to parents would be to mirror your child back to them, with love. To allow yourself the courage to be a mirror, and to understand that this human being that is in front of you is actually not you, is not and should not be the best parts of what you think life are, but the amalgamation of lessons that they're learning with your guidance. Because they're gonna go through it. They're gonna get hurt, they’re gonna fail. Miserably. It’s about --

[This is where the live video hit 1:00:00 and Instagram cut it off. If someone has the rest recorded, please let me know!] ((final 5 minutes transcripted by duncan-shepherd)) C [cont.]: Stand[ing] as a mirror to your child, if you can stand as a mirror to any person, you know the worst thing is when you’re talking to a person and they’re waiting for their opportunity to jump in and say what they wanna say or that you’re talking to a person because you need advice and you know the only reason they're giving you the advice that they’re giving you is because they’re too afraid to do that thing themselves. Or they wouldn't do it. It’s really about listening to what somebody is saying and being like huh I wouldn’t do that but why do you want to. Talk to me about that and how you feel about that? Because being witnessed and this is the important thing, being witnessed by somebody is one of the most powerful acts that we can experience and you can stand in front of somebody, open and vulnerable and authentic, and have them just say “yeah okay I see you”. And they’ll accept you. “I might not like it but that's you”. To me that's the most powerful act we have, I think. J: Oh Cody Fern, we see you. Sorry, that was the corniest way to end this. C: No, I like it!!! J: But I’m sure I speak for everyone in here with that we’re just so grateful that you opened up and shared so much of yourself with us today and on behalf of G’day USA, we’re just so happy to have you here with all the Aussies. C: Thank you so much!

-------Again massive thank you and love to eakintata for the hard work and love she put into this.

#cody fern #sxsw #interview #transcript #*

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ramajmedia · 5 years

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10 Guest Stars We Forgot Were On Seinfeld | ScreenRant

Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David broke the mold for television sitcoms when they created Seinfeld. The unconventional situational comedy famously “about nothing” actually featured several reoccurring storyline and interwoven plots. For the most part though, the show cared more about finding the funny in the mundane parts of everyday life that anyone can relate to. As opposed to the silliness that transpired in traditional sitcoms. It’s one of the many reasons that Seinfeld still exists to this day in reruns and the comic himself can pretty much do whatever he wants (such as host a 20-minute talk show where he drives around with other comics and gets coffee).

The other cast members have done fairly well for themselves in the 20 years since the show has ended, with Julia Louis-Dreyfus leading the charge, garnering up Emmy nominations like sharks eat fish. The show’s supporting cast didn’t do too bad for themselves either. Some of them even went on to become big TV stars in their own right. Whether it was a blink and miss it cameo, or a reoccurring role, here are 10 Guest Stars We Forgot Were On Seinfeld.

10 Brad Garrett

Brad Garrett made plenty of fans crack up verbally sparring with his TV brother Raymond on Everybody Loves Raymond for nearly ten years. He has used his memorable, deep baritone voice in several projects like Christopher Robin. He’s also lent his giant frame on guest starring roles on Law And Order: SVU. He was even Hulk Hogan on Rock N’ Wrestling. But one of his first big live-action roles came in “The Bottle Deposit.” He played Tony, an over zealous mechanic who stole Jerry’s car to give it a better home. Despite Kramer and Newman’s scheme to deposit bottles in Michigan (where it’s ten cents instead of five), Kramer decides to be a good friend and follow Tony to help get Jerry’s car back.

9 Jeremy Piven

Having played Hollywood super agent Ari Gold on Entourage for so many years would lead plenty of fans to think that Jeremy Piven is that much of a maniac in real life. In reality, he’s always played that manic type of character - check him out in PCU for further information.

Related: Seinfeld: The Best Episodes According To IMDb

Or just check him out in the episode, “The Pilot.” In the two-parter, Piven played Michael Barth, an actor auditioning to play George in the pilot. While everyone in the casting room thought he was great, the real George was visibly offended.

8 Mariska Hargitay

As “The Pilot” casting got underway, the show, Jerry of course needed an Elaine. During the audition process, Jerry quickly became smitten with Melissa, the actress trying out for Elaine. While she didn’t get that part, the actress playing Melissa has been captivating fans for over twenty years - Mariska Hargitay. If you grew up anywhere near a television set, then you know full well that she’s been cracking skulls of really evil people as Olivia Benson on Law And Order: Special Victims Unit since the series debut in 1999.

7 Bryan Cranston And Anna Gunn

There is narrowly a person out there that doesn’t believe the series Breaking Bad is amongst the greatest ever. The hyper-dramatic series starred Bryan Cranston as a meek science teacher diagnosed with cancer who becomes a drug kingpin. All the while, for a time trying to keep his wife, played by Anna Gunn ignorantly blissful. Several years prior, both Cranston and Gunn were part of separate episodes of Seinfeld. Gunn played Amy in “The Glasses,” one of Jerry’s girlfriends, that George thinks he saw cheat on with his cousin. Cranston was in several episodes as Dr. Tim Whatley, Elaine’s would-be regifting boyfriend.

6 Patton Oswalt

One of the funniest stand-up comics today, Patton Oswalt is also just like a lot of pop-culture fans out there, he loves all kinds of nerd and geek things. On Jerry’s talk show, the duo even tried to go back in time, driving a DeLorean to get a cup of coffee.

Related: Seinfeld: Jerry's Best Opening Stand Ups

His first acting gig was actually in the classic “The Couch” episode. He played the video clerk who refused to let George know who rented Breakfast At Tiffany’s.

5 Teri Hatcher

One of the most quoted lines in the show’s history comes from Jerry’s girlfriend-of-the-week, Sidra. After an episode long debate between Jerry and Elaine about whether or not “they’re real,” Sidra lets Jerry know emphatically “they’re real, and they’re spectacular.” Sidra was played by Lois And Clark’s and future Desperate Housewives star, Teri Hatcher. The line was so popular, that it’s almost what she’s known for.

4 Jon Favreau

Jon Favreau has directed some of best films of the last thirty years or so. From Swingers to Iron Man, the guy has helped shape pop culture. He displayed his penchant for entertaining on the other side of the camera as well in some of those films, as well as some TV shows - like Friends and Seinfeld. In the episode, “The Fire,” he was hard to see, but at the same time impossible not to notice. He played the heroic Eric The Clown who put out the fire, making George a complete coward in the process.

3 Lauren Graham And Scott Patterson

Stars Hollow’s cutest will they or won’t they couple, Lorelei Gilmore and Luke Danes made a lot of fans during The Gilmore Girls. Before Luke (Scott Patterson) and Lorelai (Lauren Graham) could kindle and rekindle their romance, they had to first have respective guest-starring roles on Seinfeld.

Related: Seinfeld: 10 Times We Were All Elaine

Both took part in classic episodes. Patterson played Elaine’s sponge-worthy boyfriend, Billy in “the Sponge.” Graham was part of “The Millennium,” as Valerie, a girl who demands prime real estate on Jerry’s speed dial.

2 Denise Richards

Long before the former Mrs. Charlie Sheen took part in cult classic films like Starship Troopers, Drop Dead Gorgeous, and Wild Things, Denise Richards took part in a classic episode of Seinfeld. “The Shoes” featured the future Bond girl as the daughter of TV executive Russell Dalrymple. He’s none too pleased when he realizes George is ogling his daughter. However, the tables are turned on him when Elaine catches his eye. Similar to several guest stars over the years, her appearance was brief but very memorable.

1 James Spader

Everyone's favorite spook turned criminal mastermind turned criminal mastermind working for spooks on The Blacklist also once made his way onto Seinfeld. James Spader, who can act creepy to funny to terrifying, sometimes within the same facial expression played George's old frenemy, Jason Hanky in "The Apology." All George wanted was his "step 9" apology from Stanky, but Jason, was having none of it. This left George with no choice but drive Hanky back into the bottle.

Next: 5 Things Seinfeld Does Better Than Curb Your Enthusiasm (& Vice Versa)

source https://screenrant.com/guest-stars-forgot-seinfeld/

#screenrant

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sebeth · 6 years

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Young Justice: Torch Song

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

The return of Young Justice begins with the release of the first two issues of the prequel comic.

Let’s begin…

My boy Conner is on the cover. Along with Miss Martian. Can we please end this unhealthy relationship? Both Conner and Megan need to expand their circle of friends and, more importantly, romantic partners. Preferably in a non-obsessive capacity.

The issues are titled “Torch Songs”. That doesn’t sound promising for the duo’s continued relationship.

The Watchtower, Team Year 6: August 8.

Miss Martian, Beast Boy, and a non-paralyzed Batgirl are at the Watchtower.

Superboy arrives. Megan appears excited until Superboy states “Huh. Didn’t know you’d be on this mission.”

Yeah, I’d say the reunion from last season’s finale didn’t last long.

Batgirl begins the mission briefing: Psimon has returned to the United States. Batgirl, Superboy, Miss Martian, and Beast Boy are team Alpha.

Megan confidently states she can handle Psimon.

Conner questions: “How?! By putting him in another coma?!”

“No! I wouldn’t do that!”

“Meaning you wouldn’t do that again.”

“No…you’re right…I won’t do that…again.”

While the duo bicker, Babs ask Gar: “What’s up with them? I know things were bad after their breakup, but I thought they were friends again.”

“They were. They got along great on Mars. I even thought they were heading towards couplehood again.”

“Well, something’s changed because they don’t look like a couple now.”

If I had to guess, I would say once the adrenaline wore down, Conner realized he still couldn’t trust Megan. Not only was Megan destroying the minds of villains she attempted to alter Conner’s free will and memories. That doesn’t even include Megan’s season 1 molding and manipulation of Conner to fit into her fantasy life.

Very unhealthy relationship.

Shouldn’t Babs have a stronger reaction to the “you wouldn’t do that again” line? Megan escaped any consequences of her mind-destroying spree.

Were the Justice League even aware of Megan’s actions? I can’t believe they were or Batman would have evicted her from the team. DC has established Batman’s feelings on tampering with a person’s mind. It would also cause great concern for J’onn J’onzz. Megan’s actions would not only violate J’onn’s personal and cultural ethics on the use of telepathy but it would also reinforce the initial misgivings he had of bringing a White Martian to Earth.

What about the Young Justice members – even the founders? Megan was warned about the misuse of her telepathic abilities in an early season one episode. Even if the team overlooked Megan’s excessive use of her telepathic powers on villains, an assault on her fellow teammate would surely provoke a response.

Poor Arsenal suffered a PTSD flashback and Dick kicked him off the team. How does Megan keep escaping from the consequences of her actions?

The Alpha team arrives in Hollywood at a classic film festival. Megan has shape-changed into a human appearance, Babs is in civilian clothes, and Conner, true to form, is having nothing to do with subterfuge and is rocking the “Superboy” shirt. Gar has turned into a mouse and is hiding in one of Megan’s pockets.

Megan and Gar sneak into a panel that showcases an actress that appeared on the “Hello, Megan” show.

Conner has snuck into the auditorium and encourages Megan to ask a question: “M’gann, you’re the bravest woman I know. Are you really afraid to ask a question?”

Please, Greg Weisman, do not continue this relationship. It’s all I ask.

Megan asks about Marie Logan. Gar admits Marie was his mother.

Megan thanks Conner for the encouragement: “Happy to help. I mean, ‘cuz…we’re still teammates. Just teammates.”

Babs, the only one actually working on the case, encounters Psimon. The other three Young Justice members are chatting with the actress when Psimon attacks.

Psimon projects the team – minus Babs – into the “Hello, Megan” show. Starring Miss Martian as Megan.

Gar freaks out: “Oh my god! We’re trapped inside Hello, Megan!”

Conner disagrees: “No. We’re trapped inside M’Gann’s mind.”

Conner and Gar struggle while trapped inside Megan’s mind.

Babs doesn’t believe Psimon has the ability to trap Megan.

Psimon gloats: “All I did was guide her to a pocket of emotional safety hidden deep within her psyche. Now, Little Miss Powerful’s own insecurities keep her trapped there.”

Psimon then attacks Babs.

Gar realizes Megan needs Conner’s forgiveness to break free from the “Hello Megan” fantasy life.

Conner confides to Gar: “She tried to psychically mess with my memories…”

“Oh my god, Conner, that’s horrible!”

“Don’t overreact, when I caught her, she backed off immediately. She had the power to force things. She didn’t.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

Yeah, Conner, do no try to justify abuse! I’ve known too many abused men and women and heard way too many variations of this type of justification.

Conner continues: “I know. That’s why we broke up. But c’mon, that was months ago. We’ve been through a whole alien invasion since then. She took full responsibility and apologized.”

“And you forgave her?”

“More or less. You know what? Fine. I’ll tell her I forgive her right now.”

“Conner, you don’t have to forgive her. But if you do, you have to mean it or…”

“Or she’ll know I’m faking ‘cuz she’s psychic.”

“She doesn’t have to be psychic. You two were together for five years. Long enough for her to know when you’re sincere.”

“So can you really forgive her or not?”

Megan sings a song lamenting her woes over her former relationship.

Conner confronts Megan: “I need to talk to my best friend. I need to tell her that I don’t know where were going or what’s going to happen but that I forgive her for anything and everything. And no matter where we go or what we do or who were with, I will always love her.”

“Really?”

“Really, that is, if she can forgive me.”

“We got so close on Mars, it scared me, and I pulled away. I’m sorry for that.”

The trio is freed from Megan’s fantasy life. Psimon has escaped.

Megan thanks Conner: “We’d have been stuck in that fantasy forever if not for you.”

“Hey, we’re a team, aren’t we?”

“Always.”

The issue ends with “Never the end”.

First, Conner’s apology/confession/forgiveness made me throw up in my mouth.

If the genders were reversed, and the abuse was physical and not psychic, no one would support this pairing. See Hank Pym, who slapped Jan in the midst of a psychotic breakdown, and has never been forgiven by the fans or the comic book creators.

Megan attempted to forcibly alter Conner’s mind out of pure self-interest, convenience, and cowardness, and’s it just hand-waved away.

“Bravest woman I know”. Please, Megan has consistently shown an avoidance to truth and accountability for her own actions.

Second, the “that I don’t know where were going or what’s going to happen but that I forgive her for anything and everything. And no matter where we go or what we do or who were with” along with the “never the end” tagline. Please do not give us another season of “will Conner and Megan get back together or not?” Season two was more than sufficient for that storyline.

I can accept this ending if the “forgiveness” allows for a clean break, settles accounts between the two, and allows Conner and Megan operate as functional teammates with no sniping and longing looks between the two.

If the first two issues are setting up a full reconciliation between the duo, I will not be happy. I might be over sensitive to abuse justifications as I’ve sadly known so many victims of abuse but the Conner-Megan sends the wrong message to abuse victims.

Third, Conner – you’re absolute, for real, soulmate is on your team. And it’s not Megan. His name is Tim Drake – he’s the slender boy in red. Check it out – expand your horizons. TimKon for life!

The cartoon debuts tomorrow. It will be interesting to see the time gap between the comic and the cartoon. So excited despite my mixed feelings over the prequel comic.

#Young Justice #Young Justice Outsiders #Superboy #Conner Kent #Miss Martian #Kon-El #Beast Boy #Barbara Gordon #Batgirl #Psimon

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roslinadama-sinequanon · 6 years

Text

Fourth of July with the Flynn’s.

This turned out to be much longer than I planned, a full story not just a drabble. But to get it out for the fourth I wrote it very quickly so please forgive any mistakes.

Santa Lucia is a fictional town.

Summary: It's been 8 months since they got married and Andy and Sharon have just moved into their new Spanish Revival house on the coast and they have invited all their family and friends over for a large barbecue to celebrate the 4th of July.

You can read this here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172376 or here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12991196/1/Fourth-of-July-with-the-Flynn-s

or right here:

*********

Even though he was used to being woken in the middle of the night, Andy was not an early riser. He usually needed an alarm. Sharon, on the other hand, often woke before her alarm and she was one of those lucky morning people, able to splash a little cold water on her face and was wide-awake. “It’s a mother thing,” she had assured him while he stumbled bleary-eyed to the kitchen for his coffee, needing that quick kick of caffeine to send him on his way.

Today, the feel of the sun warm on his cheek woke him before his alarm, while Sharon slumbered on beside him. Opening his eyes, he squinted against the natural light slightly disoriented and trying to gain his bearings in a still unfamiliar setting. Scanning the room, he saw walls painted a warm golden cream, long drapes in deep rich terracotta, a small kiva fireplace facing the bed from the corner and large windows with a comfortable window seat overlooking the backyard and the pool. Straight ahead was the source of most of the sunlight. French doors that opened out to a large terrace allowing them a glimpse of the Pacific that he knew would broaden when he stepped outside.

Home. He smiled. They were home.

Rising from their new bed with its intricate swirled wrought iron headboard and footboard, he padded over to the doors and flung them wide open, inhaling deeply the scent of the Pacific on the breeze. He leaned against the rail, looking out over the red-tiled roofs of the houses below them. They were a half mile from the water, but high enough up one of the many hills to have a gorgeous view of the ocean and coastline. Nestled between Santa Monica and the Palisades, Santa Lucia was a small former fishing village with a secluded cove that still held some of that old California charm. He and Sharon had fallen in love with the house and the town the minute they had set foot here. After visiting well over a dozen homes all over LA, they had begun to despair that they would ever find exactly what they were looking for…and then they had stepped into this house. It had everything they wanted--including a separate mother in law suite off the garage so that Rusty had his own personal quarters where he could come and go. Yes, he would still need to use the kitchen but he was now far enough away from their bedroom that they would no longer have to worry about the thumping and pumping of their bed, a remark that he had made to Sharon that had earned him a slap on the arm. Sharon was not incredibly vocal in bed but he knew that she too was getting tired of trying to stifle her soft cries and low moans when they made love and of having to cover his mouth when he groaned out his completion.

The cream stucco Spanish Revival, with its Mediterranean wooden shutters and red -tiled roof had four bedrooms that included their master with its walk-in closet and large en-suite master bath, 2 guest rooms upstairs and the mother in law bedroom/sitting room combo downstairs. There were three and a half baths, a small formal living room and a larger family room. The ceilings were high, painted white and had gorgeous dark wood exposed beams. The rooms led one to the other through graceful Moorish archways. The kitchen was open to the dining room and the dining room doors opened out to a pergola covered patio. Just off the kitchen was a small office with a view of the olive tree in the front yard and a nice bright laundry room. Off the dining room, to the right was an addition, a screened in porch, the ceiling of which was their master bedroom terrace. The house came with a two-car garage, a decent sized backyard with a pool, a hot tub and a couple of citrus trees and it was everything they had been looking for and more. Its only drawback was a bit longer commute than they had wanted, but the gorgeous view, the cool ocean breezes, and the backyard oasis more than made up for that. It was a house they could envision one day retiring in; a house that would be a perfect fit for the many grandbabies they hoped would surround them in the future.

“You’re up early.” Arms wrapped around his torso and he felt the warmth of Sharon’s breasts pressed into his back, her lips soft on the nape of his neck.

“We have a lot to do. Got a big crowd coming.” He turned into her embrace.

“Yes, we do. Thank God we have almost everything unpacked.” They had moved in a week ago and had most of the rooms in order, with a few things here or there left to unpack or rearrange, mostly in the guest rooms and the office.

“It’s a good thing we had some time on the books, and that your son is such a whiz with electronics.” Ricky had taken some time off leading up to the fourth to help with the move. They had hired professional movers to get everything in, and being as organized as Sharon was, everything was labeled well and put in the exact right spot. But, there had been some rearranging and a lot of unpacking and they had needed Ricky to help set up the large screen TV Andy had purchased for the family room and the surround sound that came with it. Sharon wasn’t a big TV watcher but Andy had sold her when he played up to her major weakness asking her to envision football games on such a big screen, “it will be almost like we’re there” he had pressured, like a kid convincing his mom. She had caved into his enthusiasm with a long-suffering sigh but secretly was really looking forward to curling up on the big plush leather couch that had come from Andy’s house via storage and spending football Sunday’s watching the games on the big screen.

“Well.” Andy startled Sharon out of her reverie. “Work isn’t going to get done with the two of us staring at the ocean all day. Let’s go woman.” He smacked Sharon on her silk-clad butt on his way back into the bedroom.

Sharon shook her head with an affectionate roll of her eyes. Her husband was so excited to have the whole the family and the squad coming over for a traditional Fourth of July barbecue that he could hardly contain himself. Almost a year ago they’d looked at their first house together and he’d been nearly giddy when he said to her, “An affordable house in the Hollywood Hills and a family to share it with,“ only to have those dreams come crashing down when the realtor informed them that the house had black mold. That had been the end of that. Now his dream was finally coming true. They were married, had five children between them and a comfortable home they could share with family and friends.

****

They found Rusty still in his pajamas sitting half asleep at the island in the middle of the kitchen. His head was propped on his hand and he was half-heartedly spooning cereal into his mouth.

“I would have made you breakfast,” Andy said.

“Mm…I needed a break from all the eggs.”

Sharon gave Andy a shrug. She had bought Andy a state of the art grilling station with gas, charcoal and wood options, along with several burners as her house-warming gift to him. Every morning, since they’d moved in, he'd gone outside, cooked them all eggs and turkey bacon, and grilled wheat toast, which they ate outside on the old farmer's table they had bought at the Long Beach Antique Market and had set up under the pergola.

Andy stood with the carton of eggs in his hand. “Would you rather have French toast?” He asked Sharon.

“French toast sounds lovely.” She sat beside Rusty at the large dark wood island with the granite top and three chairs that came from her condo bar and asked, “Why are you up so early this morning?”

Rusty’s narrowed eyes fell on Andy where he stood in his pajama bottoms and gray t-shirt at the coffee/tea bar they had set up along one wall. “Ask your husband.”

Sharon bit back a smile. Andy was always “your husband” now when Rusty was irritated with him. “Andy?”

“What?” He turned to see her looking at him expectantly. “Oh for god sake I asked the kid to put up a little patriotic bunting.”

“A little? Geez, you should see the stuff he bought.”

Sharon continued to fight her smile. She had found a man whose sense of occasion was every bit as strong as hers.

“Where is Ricky, isn’t he going to help?”

Rusty gestured toward the yard. “He’s already out there.” His older brother and his stepfather were two peas in a pod. He wasn’t sure who was more enthusiastic about the party, Ricky or Andy.

“Sharon, you want a cappuccino?” Andy was still at the coffee bar. They had gotten an espresso maker as a wedding gift and once he had figured out how to use the damn thing, he had become obsessed with it. Cappuccino was his new drink of choice.

“I’d love one.”

He set to work and soon the kitchen was filled with the sloshing and gurgling of foaming milk. Sharon accepted the large ceramic mug he handed her when it was finished and, sipping at the froth, she followed him through the dining room. They had kept her dining room table and chairs, only now it sat under an elegantly scrolled iron chandelier in the Spanish Revival style of the house. Once outside she sat at the table, leaning back and enjoying the peace of the morning while Andy cooked at the grill. The little waterfall that ran from the hot tub into the pool gurgled soothingly and it was nice to listen to birds chirping rather than the sound of traffic.

“Dammit!”

Okay, so maybe not so peaceful. “Ricky?” She looked over to the far end of the patio where Ricky had been hanging red, white and blue bunting from the freestanding stucco fireplace and where he was now cursing and hold his hand. “Are you okay, honey?”

“I just hammered my fu…frakking thumb.”

She rose and went to him to take look. “Frakking, huh?” She lifted a brow causing him to grin.

“You still don’t see it?” He asked.

“No, I don’t.” One day during the holidays while she was baking Christmas cookies Emily and Ricky were home and the two of them were watching some Sci-Fi program called Battlestar Galactica with Andy and Rusty. They called her in to take a look and kept talking about how much she looked like the lead character who happened to be the President.

“Mom, Laura Roslin could be your twin.”

“I’m not sure I‘d go that far.” Sharon was not generally a sci-fi fan but that day she had gotten hooked on what they referred to as BSG. It wasn‘t anything like what she had expected. She had also fallen hard for the love story between President Laura Roslin and Admiral William Adama, sobbing at the end when Laura died. She had even seen a tear trail down Andy’s cheek and she’d never seen him cry over a movie or TV show. “She just looks so much like you, “ he’d said. She had assured him that this was real life and in real life, women did not always have to die at the end.

****

“I swear to God if he serves up that dry, flourless, sugarless, tasteless thing he called a cake or tofu or whatever health food kick he’s on now, we are going home.”

Andy rolled his eyes at Sharon. “Provenza’s here.” Sharon looked up from where she was rearranging food on another table she’d set up under the pergola to see Provenza and Patrice coming around the house from the side yard.

“Sharon, everything looks beautiful. I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten done in a week.” Patrice took in the red white and blue bunting draped along the house, the patriotic balloons and the big American flag tacked to the side of the gardener’s shed. She and Louis had helped the Flynn’s move in last week, well, she had helped and Louis had sat around on the couch shouting out orders as to where things should go…and grumbling when Andy ignored him.

“Thank you, Patrice.” Sharon took the large bowl Patrice handed her.

“Potato salad,” Patrice said. “My grandmother’s recipe.”

“It looks delicious.” Sharon set it down next to what she had already laid out. Baskets of tortilla chips, salsa, and her favorite garlic guacamole, mounds of cheese, crackers, and salami, bowls of olives and pounds of jumbo shrimp and cocktail sauce.

Andy watched his friend eyeing the table, sniffing appreciatively. “But since you might not like what we’re serving, I think you ought to eat this.” He handed Provenza the veggie platter he was about to set on the table.

“Now, now, Flynn, I may have been a little hasty in my judgment.”

“You think?”

Patrice leaned into Sharon. “And they’re off.”

“Papa Andy! Mimi! We’re here.” Tyler and Scotty raced around the house throwing themselves at Andy and Sharon.

“Indeed you are.” Sharon swung Scotty up onto her hip, while Andy lifted Tyler.

“Mimi?” Provenza asked, his lip quirking at the cutesy name for his elegant Commander.

“When Andy and I got married they wanted to know what to call me. I told them they could pick. We went through the choices, they liked Grammy Sharon but thought it was too long so they shortened it to Mimi.”

“I think it fits,” Amy said, eyeing her boss who was wearing a low cut one piece navy bathing suit with tiny white stars and a mid-length red sarong tied around her slender waist… “You sure as heck don’t look like anyone’s grandmother.”

“And she’s not sucking up this time,” Julio said.

Sharon smiled at them appreciatively then asked the boys. “Where are your mom and dad?”

“They’re coming. We wanna go swimming.”

“Sorry about all this,” Nicole set a couple of bowls down on the food table while Dean followed her carrying various flotation devices. “I told the boys that you said you had floats for them to keep here but they wanted to make sure.”

“Wait until you see what I’ve got.“ Andy set Tyler down as did Sharon with Scotty and he beckoned them to follow him to the shed. “Mark you come too.” Mark grinned at Julio who nodded.

“Go with your Uncle Andy.” Mark raced off. He had gotten to know Tyler and Scotty at the wedding so Julio knew they were all going to have a good time.

“Whoa! That’s so cool.” The boys were gushing enthusiastically over Andy’s choices. Three oversized floats, a killer whale, a great white shark and an alligator. However, what really got them excited was when he pulled out several large squirt guns that looked like bazookas.

“Look mom!” Tyler ran to Nicole to show her one up close. “Papa said they’re Super Soaker Zombinator’s. They kill zombies.” Nicole showed her appreciation and he ran off back toward the pool where Andy was filling the guns with water.

“A Zombinator?” She questioned Sharon who shrugged.

“Don’t ask me. Your dad picked them out. In fact, I think he was just as excited about them as the boys.”

“Not surprising,” Provenza rumbled. He shook his head watching Andy filling the excited boys' water guns. “It looks like he bought out the store.”

“He wanted to make sure there were enough for everyone. And…he figured it wouldn’t be just the boys who would want to use them.”

“He figured right.” Amy watched with amusement as Ricky, Rusty, Coop, Julio, Buzz, and Wes all went to check out this new toy.

“Men,“ Patrice shook her head good-humouredly. “They never really grow up.”

“Not true. You don’t see me over there,” Provenza said.

“Speaking of which,” Sharon eyed him. “Aren’t you going to put your bathing suit on?”

“I don’t wear bathing suits.”

“Not even to swim?” Amy asked.

“I don’t swim. I do, however, like to eat.” He grabbed a plate and started filling it with food.

“Hello, Captain. I mean Captain Sharon. I mean Commander…uh Hello, Sharon.”

Sharon would know that stuttering southern drawl anywhere and turned with a welcoming smile.

“Brenda, Fritz. I’m so glad you could make it.” She wasn’t sure they would come. She was still close to Fritz, of course, they had a great working relationship, but while she and Brenda were no longer adversaries and had even come to a sort of tentative friendship, they would never be close. They were just too different. And with Fritz and Brenda working through a long-distance marriage with her in Atlanta and him in LA, the last time Sharon had seen them together was at her and Andy’s wedding,

“Your house is beautiful, just beautiful.” Brenda felt awkward. She always did in social situations. At one time, she had been so close to these people. She’d been their chief. But when she walked away from Major Crimes, she never looked back. That’s just the way she was. People were in her life or they were out of her life. She had no long-term friendships or ties and now she felt like she hardly knew them at all. And she had certainly never known them like this. Seeing them all here, in Andy and Sharon Flynn’s--and would she ever get used to saying that---backyard they really looked like a family. She got updates from Fritz so she knew what was going on in her old department and she knew that Sharon Raydor, of all people, had created a bond between the squad that was far deeper than the one they’d had working under her.

***

Otis Redding was singing about sitting on the dock of the bay and Sharon was relaxed, listening to the music and sipping on a frozen margarita while watching the guys roughhousing in the pool. She had taken her dip and was cool and content. She watched Ricky dunk under water and come up with Rusty on his shoulders, Julio did the same with Mark, Dean with Tyler and then….Andy with Scotty. She leaned forward anxiously in her chair.

“He’s okay, Sharon.” Patrice rested a comforting hand on her forearm. “The clot is long gone.”

“I know.” She tried to release her tension. “I guess old habits die hard.”

Patrice smiled sympathetically and then glanced over at Andy. “He’s really in his element out there.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s been waiting for this kind of thing since the day we closed on the house…no let me take that back, I think he’s been dreaming about this from the day we decided to buy a house together.”

The softness in the look on Sharon’s face as she watched her husband and kids caused Patrice to draw another conclusion. “I think maybe you’ve been looking forward to this just as much as him.”

“Am I that obvious?” Sharon sipped her drink, relishing the tang of the lime and kick of tequila.

Patrice shrugged and laughed. “Yeah, actually you are.”

“I guess I just …” she paused at the prickling sensation of tears stinging her eyes. “I never thought I’d have this in my life. I’m just so grateful. For Andy, for our family, for all of this. It’s something I never had with my first husband.”

The boys began to shriek with laughter as their game of “chicken” began, drawing the women’s attention back to the pool. “Enjoy it now honey, you might be wishing for some of that peace and solitude real soon.”

After their game of ‘chicken’ and a spirited water polo match, the boys started a cannonball competition. Julio had made the biggest splash so far, thus, he was winning when Scotty called out to Sharon, “Mimi, you do a cannonball.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tyler said. “Mimi’s skinny, you gotta be big to make a big splash.”

“Thank you Tyler, I love you,” Sharon blew him a kiss.

“And what do you mean by big?” Julio feigned outrage. “Are you saying I’m fat? You‘re going to pay that for that ninito.” Julio tossed him in the air and Tyler came up sputtering and giggling.

“You’re gonna win, Uncle Julio,” he assured the now laughing man. “I don’t think Mimi can do a cannonball anyway.”

“What do you mean you don’t think Mimi can do a cannonball?” Sharon took off her sunglasses and turned on her best Darth Raydor glare.

Andy grinned. “When she looks at you like that boys, you better watch out.”

“That’s right you better watch out. You watched me dive into the pool.”

“Diving’s different.”

“Well, I can sure as heck do a cannonball.” Sharon set her margarita glass down, stood, tossed off her wide-brimmed hat, untied her sarong and jumped in the pool cannonball style. The boys all cheered for her but still declared Julio the winner.

“Close your jaw, Brenda Leigh,” Provenza smirked.

Brenda did, but still had a funny look on her face. “If you would have told me 10 years ago, that Andy Flynn would be married to Sharon Raydor and that I’d be sitting by their pool watching her do a cannonball I would have thought you were on hallucinogens.”

“Join my world, Brenda Leigh, join my world.“

With the cannonball competition over the guys left the pool to set up a volleyball net in the grass with almost everyone participating in a rousing game. Everyone that is, except for Provenza who laid in a chaise lounge calling out his critiques.

“That was lazy Flynn; you could have gotten to that one.”

Sharon turned with her hands on her hips. “Which Flynn are you referring too, Louis?” Her sweetly asked question was laced with an underlying deadly edge.

“Remember, when she looks at you like that you gotta watch out,” Tyler said, remembering what Andy had told them.

“I’ll keep that mind. Of course, I’d never call you lazy, Commander. I was referring to your lazy ass husband.”

“Oh yeah, if you think you could do better why don’t you come out here and play?” Andy shot off.

“Yeah Louis, come on,” Patrice called to him.

“Ye Gods, I don’t think so.” Provenza pulled his little white hat down over his eyes and pretended to take a nap.

Andy rolled his eyes and hit the ball over the net. He loved this, it was what he had always wanted, a big family, music, noise, laughter, people arguing, and football games in the backyard. The only thing missing, other than Emily of course, was a dog or two but he was sure that would come eventually.

As the afternoon progressed more guests arrived, the doctors Joe and Morales, Gavin and Andrea, Andy’s son Justin, Judge Steven Grove and his wife Linda and even Leo Mason and his family. Andy stood at the grill in his American flag swimming trunks and flip-flops deftly flipping burgers, hot dogs and the chicken shish kebobs he had been marinating overnight, while also keeping an eye on the vat of barbecued pulled pork staying warm on one of the burners. He changed the Sirius station he’d had playing out over the Bose outdoor speakers, a wedding gift from Ricky, from ‘Margaritaville’ which they’d been listening to all afternoon, to the Dodgers game.

Along with the meats Andy was cooking, the potluck side dishes included a variety of salads--- Caprese, Caesar, broccoli, potato, macaroni, and pasta---coleslaw, baked beans, garlic bread, and cornbread. There were also plenty of desserts, cookies, brownies and blueberry pie. But when everyone had finished eating Sharon went inside to get the piece de resistance. A large strawberry sheet cake she had frosted with whipped cream and decorated with big fat blueberries and lines of sliced strawberries in the design of the American flag. She popped in two sparklers and lit them so when she walked out with the cake it was shooting sparks everywhere.

The kids were thrilled.

As the day turned to dusk some of the partygoers left, while others followed Andy, Sharon and their family down to the beach to watch the small fireworks display the town was going to set off on the pier. There were a couple of bonfires and a small live band playing patriotic favorites. Mark, Tyler, and Scott saw the vendor trucks set up on the edge of the beach and convinced their parents they needed a Kona Ice to watch the fireworks. When they got in line Andy and Sharon continued on to find a good spot.

The breeze off the Pacific had a slight chill with the tide coming in so Andy set their blanket up fairly close to the bonfire. He sat with his knees lifted, Sharon between them, her back to his front and he wrapped his arms around her. Little kids ran around on the beach waving sparklers, random firecrackers went off and colorful orbs of fire lit the sky from private backyard displays. The night sky over the Pacific sparkled with stars in a natural display of beauty. Sharon leaned back against Andy, his voice warm, tickling her ear. Content, that is how she felt, purely, completely content.

The band had just finished that old Arlo Guthrie hit “City of New Orleans” when the rest of the family joined them with their Kona snow cones.

“We got one for you Papa and Mimi,” Tyler held out red-topped snow cone.

“Tigers Blood,” Mark said.

“Sounds delicious,” Andy took the cone.

“You have to share,” Tyler said, turning to glare at his younger brother. “Scotty dropped one.”

Seeing that Scotty was about to burst into tears, Sharon reached out and took the little boys hand. “It’s okay Scott. I’m still so stuffed from all that food today; I couldn’t possibly eat a whole snow cone. “

“See, I told you, buddy.” Rusty prodded the boy.

Andy held the snow cone out to Sharon who took a bite off the sweet icy top. “See, we can share, no problem. Now, why don’t you guys get settled in before things get started.“

A whistling noise filled the air and suddenly the sky was alight with dazzling explosions of color. The fireworks had begun.

*****

When it was over, the crowd cheering at the finale, the band had one last song. A rousing sing-along that was one of Sharon’s favorites not just because it was about the beauty of the nation but because it really summed up what America was at its best, a government of the people, by the people, and for the people as Lincoln said in his Gettysburg address. And, even the boys could sing along to this one.

This land is your land, this land is my land From California to the New York island From the Redwood Forest, to the Gulf Stream waters This land was made for you and me

As I went walking that ribbon of highway I saw above me that endless skyway And saw below me that golden valley This land was made for you and me

I roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts And all around me, a voice was sounding This land was made for you and me

When the sun comes shining, then I was strolling In the wheat fields waving and dust clouds rolling The voice was chanting as the fog was lifting This land was made for you and me

As I went walking I saw a sign there And on the sign it said "No Trespassing." But on the other side it didn't say nothing, That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people, By the relief office I seen my people; As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking Is this land still made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me, As I go walking that freedom highway; Nobody living can ever make me turn back This land was made for you and me.

This land is your land and this land is my land From California to the New York island From the Redwood Forest, to the Gulf Stream waters This land was made for you and me.

Happy Birthday America! Proud of your past, looking forward to your future, surviving your present.

#sharon raydor #andy flynn #shandy #Major Crimes #shandy fourth of july #sharonmattered #because this is how it should have been

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