#the plot against America hbo

[spockvarietyhour]

The Plot Against America: Part 3

[mastersoftheair]

part of anthony boyle's interview with WWD - Women's Wear Daily

[blurredcolour]

I Wish You Love | Part Five

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

You and Lewis make the most of your time together before he returns to America to do his best to free himself to spend his future at your side.

Warnings: Angst, Class Divide, Discussion of Divorce, Lots of Kissing, Sexual Tension and Innuendos, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: I am a lying liar who lies - there are now six parts because Lewis and his darling do not know how to leave me alone. Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5393

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Returning home shortly before noon the next day, you could not help the fond shake of your head to see Lewis’s borrowed car already parked at the curb outside your flat building. The lovely, impatient man was early, of course. Early enough to see you tired, sweaty, and underdressed once again. You wanted to be annoyed with him, yet you could not find it within yourself to summon any emotion other than amused affection. Stepping into the building, you were in the process of fishing your keys from your handbag when a stunningly familiar voice carrying through the door halted your movements.

“And so that was your plan all along?”

Johnny. Your twin brother, physically absent from your life, existing only in intermittent letters, for years. Much longer than the just war, with your mutual need for employment to support your father had driven you both from home in 1934. A lot was made of some sort of intuition that was supposed to exist between twins, that as they had shared a womb, they surely shared a lot more, but his return home today was a complete shock that had you frozen in place in the hall. The next words out of his mouth did nothing to encourage you to proceed inside.

“You’ve permitted a married man to seduce your daughter, your sweet pea.” He spat, an unfamiliar ugliness in his tone. The comment was certainly directed at your father, but Lewis was undoubtedly in the room, and he confirmed your supposition as he spoke up.

“I would ask you not to insult your sister’s honor, it has been, and remains, utterly unimpeachable.”

“Bloody hell you sure speak like one of them…”

“Johnathon you will mind your tongue. I understand that you have lived differently for quite some time now, but I will not tolerate that sort of language or disrespect in this home.”

Your eyes widened as you heard your father raise his voice, something that happened so infrequently that you could count the sum total of such occasions on the fingers of your own two hands.

“I am quite satisfied,” Your father continued, “with the correspondence between Captain Nixon and his solicitor. I find his intentions for your sister, my daughter, to be completely honourable and I thoroughly encourage them. She has never been happier, Johnny, and if you cannot manage to smile for her when she comes through that door any moment now then you’d better go for a walk until you find a way to.”

Tensing at the thought of your brother angrily storming out of the flat, and right into you, you crept backwards and down the hall toward the stairs leading up to the higher floors, obscuring yourself behind the landing to wait. To see if he was indeed so against the idea of you being happy with Lewis that he would rob you of a reunion with him then. You waited nearly five minutes, which felt like an eternity, until you heard Mrs. Stokes and her herd of children leaving their flat a few stories up, tromping down the staircase towards your hiding place. Johnny had remained inside, there had been no further shouting – at least none that you could hear at this distance.

Taking a fortifying breath, you pulled your keys from your handbag and headed into the apartment, smiling softly as your father and Lewis were chatting in the sitting room. “Good afternoon you two.”

“Well look at you, sis.” Johnny spoke from the doorway to the kitchen, and it was not hard to present a face of shock, for in place of a gangly sixteen-year-old boy, there was a rugged twenty-five-year-old man standing there, grinning at you.

“Johnny!?” You gasped, dropping your handbag as you rushed forward to hug him, squealing as he hauled you off your feet, his time with the 78th Infantry having made him unspeakably strong.

“Blimey you really have gone yellow haven’t you.” He teased and you smacked him affectionately as he set you back on the ground gently. “I’ve heard it goes away after a few months, don’t get your you-know-what’s in a twist.”

“Can we please stop talking about my underclothes and talk about when you got home?” You glanced at Lewis, feeling rather embarrassed to have your knickers discussed in front of him, but he was smiling warmly, unfazed.

“This morning on the first train from London. I gather we’re going out for dinner later?”

“Absolutely, I am looking forward to taking all three of you out together.” Lewis nodded firmly and you smiled at him fondly, vaguely aware of your brother’s scrutinizing gaze upon your face in your periphery.

“We were going to go out for the afternoon, but you just got back and–”

“Go on sis, I hear he’s only in town a few days and you’ll have to put up with me for a lot longer than that. Go have fun, I’ll see you for dinner.”

Hugging him tightly once more, you then kissed Lewis’s cheek quickly before going to get changed into something suitable for a drive and a picnic before the pair of you made your way out to the car, leaving your brother and father to catch up.

“You two look nothing alike you know, I’d never have guessed that you were twins…” Lewis teased as he opened the car door for you.

“That’s what fraternal means – not identical.” You shook your head fondly, hesitating a moment, an apology for your brother’s behaviour dangling on the tip of your tongue.

“Well either way, he loves you very much and that’s all I could ask for on your behalf.” He nodded, eyes widening as you grabbed his face and kissed him soundly, your heart swelling almost painfully inside your ribcage.

His hands planted on your hips, holding tightly but letting you direct the kiss, lips parting compliantly at the tentative swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip. Losing your nerve, particularly in full view of the front window of the flat, you stopped short of sliding your tongue to his, but still felt a rush of pride tingle through you at the ruddy hue to his cheeks as you pulled back from his mouth.

“I’m not entirely certain what I did to earn that but…you’re welcome.” He grinned cockily and your jaw dropped at his impertinence before you laughed brightly, shaking your head as you slid into the car, happy to leave him wondering.

Glancing at the backseat, you raised an eyebrow curiously at the picnic basket and blankets there, wondering just what Lewis had planned for the afternoon.

“No peeking.” He smirked, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close across the bench seat once he’d started the car, pulling his hand back to shift the car into gear.

“Might I know where we are going?” You asked curiously, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at him playfully as he headed down the lane.

“I thought I might show you where I lived while I was in England – well not the actual house, we’ve given it back to the Wills family, but the town.”

“I’d like that very much.” You nodded firmly, turning to look out the windshield as he headed out on the road out of town.

“We will have to drive past Lydiard, unless you’d like me to take the long way?” He glanced at you, and you shook your head quickly.

“No, it’s alright, I suppose I will eventually pass it at some point, I’d much rather it be with you.”

His hand squeezed your knee affectionately, fingers lingering on your bare skin when he found no interfering stockings until he was forced to employ it again in changing gears as he sped up as you left Swindon behind. You had somewhat bemoaned the difficulty related to finding stockings lately, but as his fingertips idly caressed the side of your knee, suddenly you really didn’t mind very much at all.

As the pair of you drove past the tree-lined drive leading towards Lydiard House, you swallowed to see a series of guards posted at the road, finding the sight altogether unwelcoming and eliminating any last bit of nostalgia you may have felt for the place you had called home for a decade.

“I would bet it feels an awful lot like a prison for the St Johns and the rest of the staff, too.” Lewis muttered and you nodded quickly.

“I have to say I certainly do not miss working fifteen hours a day. Free time in the evenings, it’s been quite a revelation.”

Lewis grinned at you softly, squeezing his hand that had promptly returned to your knee. “I told you that you were much better suited to this life.”

“You did, yes. Thank you.” You pressed a careful kiss to his cheek, paying closer attention to your surroundings as you neared Aldbourne, a town you’d rarely had occasion to visit previously.

Lewis took you on a small tour, pointing out the Nissen huts, or Quonsets as he called them, where the enlisted men had stayed before swinging by Littlecote House where he had been billeted. He regaled you with funny stories from training and that one time his closest friend Dick had been forced to upend his mattress to get him out of bed after a very intense night of celebration. Circling back to the centre of the village, he parked in front of a small bakery, opposite the village green.

“We just need to pick up our dessert and then we’ll be ready for lunch?”

You nodded warmly, sliding out of the car with him as he led you into the shop. It smelled positively divine inside, all sorts of sweets in the display cases.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Nixon?” Lewis smiled and the girl behind the counter looked up with wide eyes.

“Leftenant! We didn’t think we’d see any of you boys back here again.” She smiled up at him brightly, fairly batting her eyelashes at him.

“Just wanted to be sure my girl had a chance to try the best lardy cake in all of England.” He smiled smoothly, looking to you warmly.

Swallowing tightly, you could not help but notice the way the girl’s face fell as he tugged you closer.

“Anything you’d think your father and brother would like as a souvenir of our travels?”

Normally you would have refused, been stubborn and reticent in the face of his generosity, but there was something about the way the girl was throwing daggers at you as she retrieved a box with his name on it from under the counter that emboldened you.

“Perhaps a few imperial cookies?” You looked up at him hopefully and he rewarded you with a quick peck to the cheek.

“A dozen of the imperial cookies as well please.”

“Of course, leftentant.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the impulse to correct her sharply as you felt rather territorial about that title – more precisely that pronunciation of that title. You waited quietly as she packed a box of the cookies and Lewis paid the total. You were more than a little relieved to say your goodbyes and leave the shop, baked goods in hand, and retrieve the picnic supplies from the car.

“Can I help you carry something?”

Lewis paused a moment before passing you the blankets, taking the boxes from the bakery and the rather heavy looking basket himself.

“You know I packed artillery shells for the past seven months, I am not helpless.” You teased as you followed him across the street onto the village green.

“Just because you can, darling, doesn’t mean you are expected to.” He replied with a smirk, waiting for you to unfurl the blankets on the ground before the pair of you settled in.

“So long as you remember that I am not helpless, Lewis.” You replied firmly, watching him unearth several packets of sandwiches, some fruit, and a bottle of lemonade from the basket along with glasses to drink from.

“I assure you I would never dream of considering you helpless. After all you rescued a drowning dog from a lake while wearing a full-length dress.” He grinned, popping the seal on the bottle to fill you a glass. “Climbed the highlands to procure me heather and grouse feathers, poured TNT and lifted artillery shells, served a certain honorable without murdering her for her deplorable behavior…” His tone had started off teasing but as he set the glass in your outstretched hand his face grew serious. “No darling, if anything I really quite admire you.”

Ducking your head shyly you took a sip of the tart liquid, enjoying the way it sparkled on your tongue. The pair of you picnicked happily in the sunshine, demolishing most of the sandwiches and fruit before Lewis unboxed the cake.

“The best in England, you say?” You grinned, peering at it curiously.

“Well, all of us in the 506th would certainly say that, but I wonder what a real Englishwoman will say.” He smirked, using a knife from the picnic basket to cut a slice, holding it out for you to take a bite.

Looking to his expectant face before glancing back down at the outstretched piece of cake, you leaned in to take a bite, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you sat up to chew thoughtfully. As the flavour of it spread across your tongue, you began to nod happily.

“Oh wow, that’s probably the best I’ve ever eaten as well.” You agreed once you swallowed your mouthful.

Lewis beamed happily before taking the next bite from the piece still in his grasp, leaning back onto his forearm lazily as you prepped another slice for yourself, trying not to spend too long drinking in the length of his body in such an enticing pose. Looking around the village square instead, you smiled.

“It’s so peaceful now, I can only imagine the havoc you all wreaked.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Havoc is an excellent choice of word, darling…”

After you’d both eaten your fill, you carefully packed up the remnants into the basket, setting the bakery boxes aside to take home for your father and Johnny to have a go at them. The shadows began to creep across the grass and a glance at your utilitarian wristwatch told you it was nearly four-thirty. Lewis suddenly sat up, drawing your gaze as he fidgeted slightly before shifting closer to you.

“Darling I…know I can’t make as much of a fuss about this as I’d like to but… We’ve been talking an awful lot about the future and what it might look like, and it would be a mistake if I didn’t make it official. Or as official as I am able, at this point.”

You held your breath, focusing intently as you did your best to hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears.

“Would you do me the honor of wearing this ring as a promise of my intention to marry you?” He produced a velvet box from his pocket, opening the lid to reveal a ring very much to your taste, not too many stones, in the metal of your choice, showing just how closely he had been paying attention to your preferences yesterday.

“Lewis…” You exhaled in awe and looked to him, eyes wide with wonder. “Yes…I of course…” You smiled, finding your eyes suddenly blurred by tears as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

“I thought…you’d maybe want to wear it on your right hand and then…when I get the divorce finalized, I’ll write you right away and then you can put it on your left, like a proper engagement ring.” He murmured against your cheek, and you smiled so broadly it made your jaw ache.

“I love you so very much, Lewis Nixon.” You shifted back to kiss him warmly, sighing against his lips as his fingers slid up your neck to cup your jaw.

“I love you too, darling.” He replied once you’d parted for breath, and he plucked the ring from its box to slide it onto the fourth finger of your right hand. “This is only the beginning.”

If only you’d known how seriously Lewis would take that statement. The baked goods immediately followed by a lavish dinner went a long way to easing your brother’s concerns and then all too soon Lewis had to return to France for his boat home. It was exceedingly difficult to see him go, though it was a relief to know you that, at least this time, you were not sending him off to combat.

It was not long after his departure, however, that your father began to receive regular wire transfers to cover rent and other necessities. Your father feigned innocence, though you did not believe him for one moment, as Lewis would not have known the necessary sum otherwise. You took to a letter to chastise Lewis, albeit lovingly.

While his subsequent responses acknowledged your wishes, they also cleverly shifted the focus to seeking your approval of potential homes and venues for your inevitable nuptials. It was late January of 1946 when a large trunk arrived by courier when you finally received the news you had been long awaiting. Johnny was at work, your father at the pub. You were enjoying a rare moment at home alone after finishing work for the day, having kept a small roster of clients to accumulate pocket money to spend on previously frivolous things like skin care and hair cuts.

Signing the receipt slip, you had the delivery man set it in the living room before kneeling to open it, gasping at the neatly folded piles of clothing contained within. Laying atop were two envelopes, one letter-sized and another legal-sized. You quickly retrieved the letter, assuming it would contain the most explanation, and sliced it open with your trusty butter knife.

It was fortunate that you were the only one at home, for the childish squeal you let out as you fell onto the sofa would have been a mortifying thing for anyone else to witness. Fumbling slightly, fingers made clumsy with glee, you took the ring from your right hand and quickly slid it onto your left where it truly belonged, holding it up to admire it proudly. Glancing at the watch on the same wrist, you sat up, realizing you still had time to send your reply and grabbed your handbag and overcoat, dashing out the door and down the lane to the post office.

It took a bit of explanation from the clerk, it being your first telegram after all, but you managed to condense your words to keep the entire process affordable.

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity, with Lewis’s reply arriving by cable the next day that he would be in London mid-February. You employed the services of a local seamstress, as ordered, to have your trousseau properly fitted. Lewis proved yet again that he had paid attention, having sent a few dresses and ensembles in ivory and white to choose from – and mercifully nothing so ostentatious as a full wedding gown. You were able to give ample notice to your clients and you’d already procured a passport – thankfully you’d started that process in September of the previous year.  Using your accumulated ration coupons, you purchased a swimming costume and an irresistibly fine nightgown for your wedding night.

It felt like no time at all before the three of you were stepping into the suite at the Ritz that Lewis had reserved for you to get ready for your wedding that evening, and the rest of your family to stay the night before returning to Swindon on the morning train while the pair of you headed out on your honeymoon. You were startled to find a young woman waiting for you there.

“Good afternoon miss, sirs. My name is Sara. Mr. Nixon has sent me to assist you in getting ready. He asked me to give you this before you could protest.” She held out an envelope of telltale Ritz stationery and you took it with a fond sigh, following her into the room where the bellhop deposited your trunk.

Huffing in bemused annoyance, you quickly turned your attention back to Sara, working with her to hang up your outfit for the impending ceremony before looking over the selection of ‘decorations.’ Lewis had sent several sets of jewelry for you to choose from and after some deliberation you eventually settled on one before submitting yourself to Sara’s talents as she saw to your hair. Mercifully, all rumours had proven true, and the yellow hue had vanished from your skin and hair, returning you to your normal appearance. Your diligent use of skin care had also gone a long way to soften the callouses of your work-roughened hands and by the time Sara was through with you, you almost didn’t recognize yourself.

Stepping out to where Johnny and your father were waiting in their new suits, purchased with a hoarding of ration coupons and Johnny’s excellent wages from his new post at the Great Western Railway, the three of you gawked openly at one another.

“Well, we certainly clean up nice, aye?” Your father grinned.

“You look pretty as a picture, sis.” Johnny grinned and pulled you in for a hug just as Sara hurried out with a small bouquet of white roses.

“Don’t forget these, miss. Your car to the embassy is waiting downstairs.”

You took it carefully and smiled to her. “Thank you so very much for your assistance, Sara, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, my pleasure miss.” She blushed prettily, bowing her head shyly. “I’ll see to it that your trunk is moved to Mr. Nixon’s suite with the rest of your luggage. Congratulations.”

You parted with your thanks before heading downstairs, trying not to roll your eyes when you found the waiting car was a Rolls Royce. You really might have to murder him at the end of that aisle. Climbing in carefully, the three of you drove to number one Grosvenor Square, the address of the American Embassy. It had been Lewis’s idea of course, and only possible given that he personally knew the ambassador Mr. Harriman.

It was his hope that it would ease your immigration to the United States, to be technically married on American soil, while still being able to have Johnny and your father in attendance. The building was rather imposing as you climbed out of the car, thanking the driver as he held the door, not at all what you would have imagined for your wedding. Then again, you’d never imagined marrying an American divorcé set to inherit a great fortune one day, either.

Surrendering your coats to one of the ambassadorial staff, you took a moment to compose yourself as Johnny stepped into the reception room, nodding to your father when you were ready before the doors were opened and you made slow progress down the aisle, allowing for the extra time it took him to manipulate his prosthetic leg with each step. You were pleased Lewis had chosen a smaller room, there were not that many people in attendance, really just the ambassador and his wife, your small family, and Lewis and yourself. But as you walked down the short aisle towards the man waiting for you in black tie with the officiant at his side you were certain nothing had ever been more perfect in your entire life.

Your father shook Lewis’s hand before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, ambling over to his chair as Lewis took your arm in turn. He leaned in to whisper warmly in your ear.

“You look incredible, darling.”

Swallowing tightly, you whispered back. “You are lucky there are too many witnesses to commit manslaughter here.”

He barely contained his laughter.

The ceremony was sweet and simple. The signing of the licence took a little extra time as you also completed your immigration application at the same time, with his excellency Mr. Harriman signing as a sponsor – a breathtaking honour which you were quite certain you would never be able to fully process. Lewis had also clearly bought the wedding bands at the same time as the engagement ring as they all looked quite smart next to one another once placed on your respective fingers.

The intensity of Lewis’s eyes on yours as the officiant pronounced you man and wife had you feeling rather apprehensive of the kiss he was about the lay on you, a kiss you were admittedly no less desperate for after nearly six months, but reticent to share in front of an audience. To your surprise, and slight disappointment, it was a soft and utterly appropriate kiss that only left you wanting more as the small group of attendees applauded your finally-accomplished-union.

Bestowing the bouquet upon the ambassador’s wife insistently, in gratitude, you finally allowed Lewis to pull you down to the separate car waiting to take the pair of you back to the hotel where the four of you would celebrate in a private dining room. The driver had barely closed the door before Lewis was pulling you close, at last delivering the thorough conquering of your mouth you had been yearning for as you clung to his coat, not wanting to ruin his styled hair.

“I have missed you far too much, darling.” He whispered against your lips as the driver pulled the car into traffic. “How will I ever repay your patience with me?”

“Do not remind me of balances and things owing, Lewis, I’m in a good mood.” You teased fondly. “You will meet my rage tomorrow when we’re stuck on a boat together for days on end. Tonight is for celebration only.”

He responded with a lopsided grin as his gaze traversed your face, expression fading slowly to one of seriousness before he kissed you fiercely once more, hands sliding dangerously close to your carefully pinned hair. You pulled back quickly with a pout.

“You can ruin that later.” You panted a little and he pressed his face against the crook of your shoulder.

“I will ruin more than your hair later.” He spoke, breath skating along your skin, making you shudder for many reasons. “Darling, are you certain this is not your murder plot unfurling right before my eyes?” He lifted his eyes to look up at you with a pained expression, your fingers reaching out to cup his cheek sympathetically as the car pulled up outside the hotel.

Summoning the strength to compose yourselves as the driver came around to open the door, you stepped out carefully and took Lewis’s arm to head inside, rather enjoying the way people glanced at the pair of you approvingly.

A small feast of beef wellington, Victoria sponge, and tea with milk and sugar – among other delights – awaited you all back at the Ritz. Lewis was barely able to keep his hands from ensnaring yours, his knee from pressing against your thigh, from feeding you bites of food proudly. He did an amiable job of getting to know Johnny better this time despite his distraction, the previous adversarial tension having evaporated from your brother with the arrival of the divorce decree several weeks ago. Lewis took great interest in Johnny’s employment and the topic of conversation devolved into a rather intense debate about railways…even as Lewis began to pull the hem of your dress higher beneath the tablecloth with tantalizingly bold fingertips. Eventually your father dragged a very stuffed and well-liquored Johnny off to bed, freeing the two of you from the obligation of entertaining them any longer at which point Lewis lifted your left hand to press a kiss to the rings on your finger.

“Well, Mrs. Nixon.”

You smiled shyly, but delightedly, to hear your new title from his lips. “Well, Mr. Nixon.”

“Fait accompli. At last.”

Nodding warmly, you leaned in to kiss him gently, giggling as he tasted of icing sugar and strawberry jam from his last bite of cake. “We should let them in here to clean up.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Nixon?” He teased as he stood, sliding his arm around your waist as you stood in turn.

“No!” You squeaked in self-defence, though you were more than a little enticed by his earlier promises from the car.

“Then allow me to proposition you, I would very much like to see what you’re wearing underneath this lovely outfit.”

“Mr. Nixon!” You feigned shock even as you pulled him out of the private dining room to head up to your shared suite.

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Read Part Six

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

[jellybear455]

What's left of Anna - The last of us

Pairings: Ellie x mother figure reader; Joel x reader

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, follows plot of the HBO series, I gave reader a name just in case that triggers you

Word count: 2700

Summary: Nearly fifteen years after the death of her sister, Anna Williams, Isabel Bailey journeys through post-apocalyptic America with her niece and a closed off stranger.

Author's note: Readers name is Isabel Bailey (previously Williams). Her physical features remain blank. I have the next 4 parts of this series already lined up, so lmk if you have any feedback. This story will be posted on wattpad upon completion.

Part 2 Part 3

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Gun shots echo through the hallway. Someone is screaming at me to run. I fly around the corner, skidding to a stop at a locked door. My hands shake uncontrollably as I wrestle with the key. Footsteps boom behind me, getting louder and louder with each passing moment. Bursting inside, slamming and locking the door, I rush across the room. Chained to the wall is a terrified girl of no older than fourteen. She flinches as I run towards her, shoving a second, smaller key into her cuffs, setting her free.

“What’s going on?” She asks. Her voice is unsteady.

“Shh, Ellie. Stay close.” I whisper back, pulling my gun from where it was tucked in my pants.

We creep silently across the floor, cringing at gunshots and creaky floorboards. What felt like hours pass as we crouch by the door. Somehow, the lingering silence was more unnerving than the sounds of violence. I squeeze Ellie’s hand to keep the memories poking the edges of my mind at bay.

Eventually, the quiet is broken by the muted whispering of Marlene. She was clearly distressed, and a second voice reassures her. I exhale in relief, before seizing up again. A quiet tapping of feet on the wooden floorboards.

“Stay.” I whisper to Ellie. Sucking in a breath, I slowly reach up to unlock the door, dreading the inevitable soft click. The footsteps grow closer, and Marlene is still oblivious.

I burst out of the door, pointing my pistol down the hall. A few meters away is a man, pistol raised. He steps towards me slowly, and I pointed my gun at him, backing further away.

He was average height, with short, greying hair. His eyes are stony, and his pistol is aimed right at my forehead. As he came in line with the open door, Ellie leapt out, brandishing her knife. It took the man no longer than a second to get her on the floor, her knife under his foot.

“Godammit, El, I told you to stay put.” I mutter, placing my finger on the trigger. Anger swelled in my chest. “Let her go, you asshole, or I swear to god I’ll-”

“Joel?” Marlene says from behind me. Joel seems to recognise her as well, and took his gun off me. “Stand down, Bel.”

Reluctantly I lowered my weapon, but don’t lower my guard.

“Shit…” Ellie cries, looking past me at Marlene.

I press my back against the wall, reluctant to turn away from Joel, and realise Marlene has been shot. Her companion, Kim, is missing an ear.

“I’ll be fine, kid. I said stand down, Bel.”

“I am!” I protest.

“So, this is who Robert screwed us over with.” Another voice echoes down the hall, and a woman emerges from around the corner. “The Che Guevara of Boston? Your war must be pretty shitty to be buying from scumbags like him.”

“Yeah, it kinda has been,” Marlene replies, annoyance and pain leaking into her tone. “The merch was bad, and he obviously didn’t take ‘fuck off’ as an answer.”

“Why do you need a battery?” Joel questions.

Ellie grapples for her knife, and Joel points his gun at her. I raise mine again. “No! No. Not at her. Point at me.”

Joel looks down at Ellie, giving her a warning look, before slowly turning his gun to me. I exhale slowly, lowering my weapon. “What we need that battery for is more important that what you do, I can promise you that.”

“No offense, Tommy is just one man.” Marlene says from behind me. Joel’s face contorts, as though he is trying to conceal his shock. “It’s our business to know things.”

“’To know things’?” Joel repeats. He looks pissed. “You were the cause of it. You turned my own brother against me.”

I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the anger in Joel’s face, and the terror in Ellie’s. “That was a lot of gunfire. FEDRA will be on their way. We need to leave.”

“I know. We were gonna move Ellie out of the zone tonight. But we won’t make it anywhere like this. Not for a while.”

Glancing over at Marlene, I flash her a look. “Do you think this is-”

“I think you should do it.” She finishes, ignoring my concerns entirely.

“The hell we are.”

“I’m not going with them!”

“I am not leaving her with strangers, Marlene.”

“You won’t.” Marlene sighs, looking to me, then Joel. “You’ll do the job for us. And take Bel with you. She’s a doctor.”

“Fuck, Marlene, you know I can’t leave.” I shoot back.

“Leave with her or leave her.”

I look away, shuffling my feet. She isn’t wrong.

Joel scowls. “Tess, we don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, you don’t have time?” The woman, Tess, scoffs. “Who is she?”

“To you? She’s cargo.” I snap back.

“We don’t smuggle people. Sorry.” Joel replies quickly.

Ellie’s head whips back and forth, unsure where to look. I pull my gaze from Joel’s gun and meet her eyes. “Deep breaths, hun. It’s okay.”

“I can do it.” Kim insists from beside Marlene.

“Kim, you don’t have a fucking ear on your fucking head!” Marlene snaps, “Could you please-… There is a team of Fireflies waiting for her at the old State House. I know what out there, we were going with an entire squadron for that exact reason. Now I don’t have a truck. I don’t have a squadron. FEDRA is five minutes away. What I do have is you. And I know what you’re capable of. For better or for worse.”

“What…” Ellie starts, clearing her throat. “What are they capable of?”

“Be calm, honey. I’m not leaving you.” Ellie sucks in a shaky breath at that.

“You will get her there safely. They will give you what you need.” Marlene pleads. “Not just a battery. The whole thing. Fuelled-up trucks, guns, supplies, all of it. I swear.”

Joel looks towards Tess, before flicking Ellie’s knife away.

“Asshole!” She cries, watching as he walks away.

I shove my gun in the back of my pants, cautiously moving forward and grabbing Ellie before she can retaliate. I wrap an arm around her, and she clings to my waist, glaring at Joel. We back towards Marlene and Kim. Joel’s pistol was still pointing at me.

“What the hell, Marlene?” I mutter. “How do you expect to keep her safe if she’s with strangers?”

“Easy, Bel. You’ll be with her. And I trust them.” Marlene reassured me. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself too. She raises her voice. “Ya’ll talks it through, but please remember I am bleeding out.”

Tess stares intensely at Joel for a moment longer. “Okay, here’s the deal. We get her to your crew in the State House, but before we hand her over, they give us everything we want. If not, we kill her then and there.”

Joel shoves his pistol into his jacket pocket, and a little bit of relief spreads through me.

“Deal.” Marlene says quickly.

“Really?” Ellie scoffs. “That fast?”

“You are all the matters. My team will not jeopardise you. Remember what I told you?”

I sigh. “Go get your backpack, El.”

Tess and Marlene exchange a look as I watch Ellie disappear through the door. When she returns, Tess doesn’t waste any time. “Let’s go.”

Ellie stares at Marlene, a silent goodbye, before disappearing after Tess, bumping Joel in the shoulder. I send Marlene a nod. I’m reluctant to leave her when she’s injured, but I don’t hav much choice. “Please be careful. And see a doctor.”

“Keep her safe.” Marlene says. “And don’t die. She doesn’t need any more of that.”

--

“What the fuck?” Ellie cries, thumping a fist against the door that Tess had just shut on us.

“It’s okay, honey. They’re just talking.” I reassure her, flopping down on an armchair.

Ellie grumbles in annoyance. I watch silently as she navigates her way through the messy apartment and picks up a book. The door opens again, and Joel storms in, taking a seat on the sofa opposite me.

“Sooo, who’s Bill and Frank?” Ellie begins, looking down at the book. Joel gave her a baffled look. “The radio’s a smuggling code, right? 60’s song, the don’t have anything new, 70’s, they got new stuff. What’s 80’s?”

Joel snatches the book, tossing it on the table. He lies down on the sofa, closing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks.

“Killing time.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out.”

Ellie huffs, and I held out an arm. “Come here, hun.”

She grabs the book of the table, sending Joel a dirty look before curling up next to me. She lets me wrap my arms around her, and she leans her head on my shoulder. Before long she was fast asleep.

--

“Her name is Ellie.”

I looked down at the little pink baby in my arms. She was out like a light, breathing softly. Her tiny hands clutched at my finger like it was a lifeline. She was too sweet for a world this cruel. “Where’s Anna?”

Marlene nodded to the closed door. Someone was crying on the other side. There was only one reason my sister would give up her baby so easily. Ellie stirred in my arms, and I rocked her gently. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, to smother the knowledge that this sweet baby girl would never know her mother, but no words came to my lips.

“Let me see her.”

“We have to give her up to FEDRA.” Marlene whispered, subtly wiping a tear from her cheek and placing her hands firmly on my shoulders. “I can’t keep her safe.”

“Let me see her!” I shouted. “Anna!”

“Bel,” I could hear her sobbing. “Keep her safe, Bel. I love you.”

Grief bubbled in my stomach. It burned. Ellie began to cry, and I clutched her tighter. “I love you, I’m so sorry. Let me go, Marlene. Please.”

“I’m so sorry, Isabel.” Marlene turned away.

 “Me too.” I sobbed.

The door closed behind her. I covered Ellie’s ears as a gunshot rang out. She cried louder and I tried in vain to calm her. It was difficult when I couldn’t hold in my own tears.

It was a few hours until we make it back to the QZ. I stood at my apartment window with Ellie. We watched the sunrise together. Then, I walked her right into hell.

--

Joel presses his shoulder to the sewer cover, forcing it open. A crack of light sweeps through the dark space, before moving past. He crawls out of the gap. Tess pushes Ellie forward next, then me.

“Jesus Christ, I’m actually outside!” Ellie cries, standing up and looking around.

“Ellie!” I mutter, pulling her down beside me just in time for the light to sweep past us again. “Stay the fuck down.”

We stay still for a few more moments, listening for any signs that we’d been spotted.

“Okay, we’re gonna take the left edge around the buffer zone.” Tess whispers.

I wrap one hand around Ellie’s wrist. “Stay close, and for god’s sake, stay down.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Ellie replies quickly. Joel makes a face.

“Let’s go.”

Tess leads us under an old, rusted bus. I keep a hand on Ellie’s backpack as we crawl. It was slightly inconvenient, but I am not letting her out of arm’s reach. We emerged from the bus and weaved through a maze of broken cars.

A FEDRA truck rumbled past, sweeping a light across us. Joel grabs me by the waist, separating me from Ellie and pulling me down to where he was hiding. We crouch there for a moment. My breathing is unsteady, and my heart thuds in unnatural patterns. Joel’s hand pressed into my waist until the light disappears and he gestures to keep going.

My hand is back on Ellie’s pack as we shuffle through a busted pipe. Another light sweeps past, and we freeze again. The wonder of being outside the walls had worn off, and I could see the utter fear painted on Ellie’s face. I clutch her hand tightly, offering silent reassurance. A flash of lightning illuminates us as we continue through piles of rubble.

“What the hell?” I spin around, spotting the FEDRA soldier too late. He scrambles from where had been taking a piss, grabbing his gun and pointing it at us. “Don’t move!”

Lightning flashes again, and I saw the man’s face. A flicker of recognition sparks in his eyes as he looks between me and Joel.

“You gotta be shitting me.” He grumbles. “I told you to stay home, man.”

“We can talk about this.” Joel replies quickly.

“Get on your knees!”

Tess sighes in resignation. “Do it. Get on your knees.”

It has been a long time since I had prayed, but I guess when you’re about to die that doesn’t matter. I pray that the soldier didn’t know who I was. I had seen him before, but I didn’t know his name.

“Listen, if you let us do this run, we’ll split the cards with you.” Tess reasons.

“Will you?” The soldier scoffs.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so blessed. Hands on your head, eyes forward.”

Reluctantly, I thread my fingers behind my head. The soldier holds a square device to Tess’s neck, and my blood runs cold. Ellie stiffens beside me.

“Really, man?” Tess cries.

“Yep. We’re doing this by the book.”

Ellie stares ahead, terrified. “Bel…”

“It’s okay, honey. I got this.”

“How about three quarters?” Tess was almost begging now. I catch a glimpse of the screen. It’s green.

“Unauthorised exit.” The solider announces. He sounds almost smug. “They’ll hang you for that.”

“Fine, everything off this run.” Joel pleads as the device is turned to him. His screen turned green, too. “And half off on all the pills.”

“Half off?”

“All off.” The soldier scowls. My screen was green. He turns to Ellie. “Risk my job for ‘half off’. Out of your fucking mind-”

I leap to my feet, throwing a fist into the soldier’s face. He stumbles back, clutching his nose. I grab his rifle, pointing it back at him. He whips out a pistol, aiming it at Ellie. I want to shoot him so badly, that would destroy any change we have of getting away.

“Jesus, Bailey.” He shouts. I freeze slightly. “Yeah, I know who you are. I thought you would be better than this.”

I suck in a breath. “You asshole.”

“Let’s talk about this.” Joel cuts in. He’s standing in front of Ellie.

“Move.”

“Put down the gun.” I snap. Nobody moves.

 “Move.”

My gaze flicks over to Joel. His hands are raised, and his face is stony, but his eyes were elsewhere. The soldier takes a step forward, and my finger moves to the trigger. Joel moves, and within a second he is on the soldier. His fist pummels into the soldier over and over, until he isn’t moving. Ellie stares. The soldier is dead, but Joel isn’t slowing down. Without thinking, I rush forward and grab his arm. “Joel! Stop.”

His fist heads in my direction, and I dodge. “Joel!”

He freezes, I can see the confusion in his eyes. I take to moment to grab his bloody hand and pull him to his feet. He doesn’t resist.

“Joel!” Tess called, flipping the device screen up. Red.

“I’m not sick! This is three weeks old. No body lasts more than a day!” Ellie cries desperately, revealing the veiny, white scar on her arm.

I swear loudly. This exactly what we were trying to avoid. “There is no time for this. We need to go. Now.”

Tess snaps back to reality, looking around for more soldiers. I sling the rifle over my shoulder. Joel is still dazed, and I drag him away from the body. Tess leads us through a hole in the fence, and we are free.

--

Taglist: --

[arthurdrakoni]

The Plot Against America by Philip Roth imagines an alternate 1940s where Charles Lindbergh has been elected President of the United States. This is my review.

I have a bit of a habit about putting books that are popular or widely praised. I don't consciously avoid them, it just kind of happens that way. Still, I get around to them eventually. Occasionally they're underwhelming, but more often than not, I do genuinely enjoy them. Such is the case with The Plot Against America by Philip Roth. 

The Plot Against America begins in an alternate 1940. Celebrity aviator Charles Lindbergh has been elected President of the United States in a landslide victory over incumbent president Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Lindbergh has pledged to keep America out of the war in Europe and the Pacific. In fact, he's signed a non-aggression treaty with Germany and Japan. Still, many Americans, particularly Jewish American, worry that Lindbergh is getting a little too chummy with the Axis Powers. The story follows the turbulent years of the Lindbergh Administration through the eyes of young Philip Roth and his family.

This was one of those books that wasn't too high on my reading list until it was. I can't say what exactly prompted me to give this one a try. Maybe it was the miniseries adaption that HBO put out. I haven't watched the miniseries yet, but I do plan to. Maybe it was the various alternate history Facebook groups I take part in. Maybe it was something else entirely. Honestly, I can't really say. I will say that this book being part of the Audible Plus Catalogue was a nice bonus. Audible Plus is a new thing that Audible is doing. It's like Netflix, but with audiobooks.

Whatever the reason, I finally gave The Plot Against America a try, and I loved it. You will occasionally see literary fiction authors dip their toes into speculative fiction. However, this is the first time I've seen a literary fiction author try their hand at alternate history. Philip Roth ruffled some feathers when he made some comments that seemed to imply that he believed that he had invented the concept of alternate history. I haven't seen exactly where that went down, so I won't really comment on that.

I will say that Roth does an excellent job of combining his signature style with the alternate history setting. I took a look at some of Roth's other books in order to compare the writing style, and The Plot Against America defiantly fits the mold. There are segments of the book that almost feel weirdly nostalgic at times. Roth describes daily life in 1940s New Jersey in such loving detail, it can be easy to forget that you're reading an alternate history novel. And yes, this is a Philip Roth book, so it is pretty much required to take place in New Jersey.

One aspect I liked is that Jewish Americans are not a united front against Lindbergh. Sure, there are plenty, like the Roth family, who are weary of his policies, and actively push back against him. However, there are also Jews who are supportive of Lindbergh, or at least, believe he isn't that bad and can be reasoned with. Minorities are not a monolith, so I felt this added more realism. 

I guess this book goes to show that you can still do interesting things with World War II alternate history than just the typical Nazi Victory scenarios. 

Have you read The Plot Against America?  If so, what did you think?

Link to the full review on my blog: https://drakoniandgriffalco.blogspot.com/2021/12/book-review-plot-against-america-by.html?m=1

[stackthedeck]

geniuene question, since i saw you reblog harlivy art (which I LOVE they're the characters that got me into comics in the first place <3)

what do you think of how DC handles queer rep vs Marvel Studios? this genuinely isn't intended to be a diss against any side, but I feel like Disney (and Marvel by extension) have been,, kinda afraid to openly have queer MCs? Like we have America Chavez in MoM --- but she was basically more of a plot device than a character. Also they de aged her >:( DC made 3 season (now 4!) animated show about two queer MCs. I'm just curious on ur thoughts about it honestly /gen

Oh boy this is a super loaded question

So I've said in the past that the MCU is super shitty about queer representation, they've de-aged four queer characters from the comics so that they're significantly younger than their comic ages in adaptions. This is a shitty move and the MCU has garbage queer rep and I'm consistently pissed about it

But to compare the MCU to the Harley Quinn tv show, it's apples to oranges. Obviously, the adult tv show that is filled with violence and crude humor isn't going to have trouble doing a queer storyline, the show already isn't aimed towards a family demographic, they're not going to lose money from people screaming to think of the children. The MCU could have made America Chavez comic accurate because she's not a particularly dark or mature character, she's just a lesbian young adult, but including queer rep of any kind in family entertainment is still a risk in Disney's mind. Which sucks obviously. But they did include her gay moms and the little queer pin which is typical of the "representation" they include in other films.

But like what I'm trying to say is that neither multi-billion dollar company is doing anything radical. The Disney brand is "family friendly" and HBO brand is "adult and gritty", the MCU is the largest franchise in history and the Harley Quinn show is just a couple of seasons not tied to anything. Neither company is doing anything particularly risky or politically radical, they're sticking to their brands and making money. That's not to say I don't love the Harley Quinn show and don't loathe what Disney has done to the Marvel comics characters. Of course, I love the rep HBO did give us, but comparing them like this is giving HBO too much credit.

Like I'm not going to sing the DCU's praises when they've still got Ezra Miller hired on and they scrubbed Batgirl from existence, you know? And I'm never going to seek out or expect queer rep from the MCU because it's fucking Disney

The conversation I feel I'm much more equipped to answer is how the comic companies handle queer characters

[aunti-christ-ine]

Acclaimed Daniel Roher-directed Documentary Investigates Assassination Attempt on Putin Adversary

CNN Films will broadcast the Sundance sensation, NAVALNY, directed by DanielRoher, on Saturday, Jan. 14, at 9:00pm Eastern on CNN.  As the world watches Russia’s brutal aggression continue against Ukraine, the gripping investigation of the 2020 attempted assassination of Alexey Navalny reminds the world of the serious repression and danger the Russian government presents to its own citizens. 

Just months after the attempt on his life, and during the height of the global coronavirus pandemic, Alexey Navalny and his family allowed Roher exclusive access to document his physical recovery from their secret location.  Roher and the production team weave interviews with the former Russian presidential candidate and his family, as well as Navalny’s Russian Anti-Corruption Foundation (FBK) colleagues, to describe the events leading up to the attempt upon his life that the world first witnessed via social media.  Later, together with investigative journalists led by Christo Grozev, the executive director of Bellingcat, the team reveals a sprawling web of Russian government surveillance that had tracked the Putin opposition leader for years, ultimately exposing a shocking plot to poison him with the Russian government-linked nerve toxin, Novichok.

“Daniel and his team secured extraordinary access to a story of immense global significance,” said Amy Entelis, executive vice president for talent and content development for CNN Worldwide, on behalf of CNN Films.  “The film is a window into a rigorous and disciplined investigation that, beyond exposing the serious stakes for one man and his family, offers a view into the sobering stakes for a citizenry when a nation oppresses its own people.  NAVALNY is the kind of documentary that defines CNN Films.”

NAVALNY is currently nominated by the Producers Guild of America for its 2023 documentary motion picture award, nominated by the Cinema Eye Honors for the best nonfiction feature category, and named as a 2023 finalist by the duPont-Columbia Awards. NAVALNY was honored with the Audience Award in the U.S. Documentary competition, and the fan-selected Festival Favorite Award, following its world premiere at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival.  NAVALNY is produced by Odessa Rae of RaeFilm Studios, Diane Becker and Melanie Miller of Fishbowl Films, and Shane Boris of Cottage M.  Amy Entelis and Courtney Sexton of CNN Films, and Maria Pevchikh of the FBK, are executive producers of the documentary. The editorial team was led by Langdon Page and Maya Daisy Hawke. 

NAVALNY currently has a 99% Tomatometer® score at Rotten Tomatoes.  It was theatrically released by Warner Bros. Pictures.  During the Jan. 14 broadcast on CNN, NAVALNY will also stream live for pay TV subscribers via CNN.com and CNN OTT and mobile apps under “TV Channels,” or CNNgo where available.  NAVALNY will be available On Demand beginning Sunday, Jan. 15, to pay TV subscribers via CNN.com, CNN apps, and Cable Operator Platforms.  It is also available to stream via HBO Max.  Viewers can interact with others across social media by using the hashtag #NAVALNY.

#  #  #

[wordtowords]

Slime vs. Literacy

slime - noun - glop made from glue, baking soda, and contact solution (picture Silly Putty or Play Dough on a grander scale) that is currently trending among elementary school children.

Early on Sunday, I decided to be brave and take an unprecedented risk. Finding myself in my attic, I hauled out several boxes of books–titles (mainly for children) I had written and published years ago– carried them to my car and drove a few miles to become one of about fifty vendors at a local street fair, a.k.a. swap meet or flea market. The cost was $140 to camp out for seven hours on a segment of the pavement measuring twelve by six feet on Union Avenue in downtown Cranford, New Jersey. Quaint, compact Cranford has been used as a location for a few films and cable TV series, notably HBO's The Plot Against America based on Phillip Roth's timely, 2004 novel of the same name set during World War II. The innocuous, suburban hamlet fits the bill as the setting since it is complete with a stone railroad station built in the mid-1930s and Victorian hotel at its center, but I digress. As I was going to sell my paperbacks for $5 and $6, I didn't think I would break even no less garner a profit; but because my main man in L.A. told me he would make up the difference in long-stemmed roses, I figured I had nothing to lose.

The organizers of the event placed me, my card table, chair, simple signage and boxes of books in front of the food trucks and between a primitive fine artist sans a right eye and a entrepreneur of slime, i.e. a mother of a teenage daughter who at the age of nine was into making and marketing her own–slime, that is. As the girl grew into adolescence, the manufacture and distribution of slime grew banal, so her mother usurped her business, invested more time and money in the making and packaging of the glop, and became a regular at street fairs throughout the state, jumping on the bandwagon of a trend that is on the ridiculous side. (But aren't all childhood attractions?) I figured that the monocular artist wasn't competition, but the purveyor of slime? I had no idea how popular homemade putty could be. Scores of children dragging their parents lined up under the vendor's tent to press their fingers into soft, colorful samples of pure slime and to whine and plead for anywhere from eight to twenty dollars to buy what they can probably create at home for much less. Very few parents even noticed that I was selling books, selling literacy, for so much less. I have to admit that I was glad the kids were pumped up to experience something digital (tactile) as opposed to digital (technological), but I was disappointed that the parents were so quick to dismiss the idea of buying their kids signed books that took many years to write, illustrate, and publish. At the end of the day, ironically, the bearer of slime made hundreds while I walked away with $53. (My boyfriend owes me $87 worth of red roses :). And I will hold him to an arrangement stipulated in the arrangement.)

As I wheeled my collapsible red wagon filled with unwanted, once well-received/reviewed books up Union Avenue toward my car lodged in a parking garage blocks away, I couldn't help but think that there might be something a bit off kilter with parents who don't value the idea of literacy. In today's world, it seems that there are more writers than readers as it has become so easy to self-publish a book on-line as an e-book. If parents don't promote reading then who will read the massive amount of techno tomes? Teachers already have too much on their plates. And besides, there is a national deficient of individuals willing to toe the line and go into teaching as a career.  If parents are forced to homeschool as a result, will there be a sufficient amount of emphasis on the core subjects like reading, or will the science of slime and the like be at the center of it all? Okay, maybe I'm being a bit cynical here, but when it comes to education, I'm kinda of worried about the future. How about you?

[kvibe-test]

<img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/drive-storage/AJQWtBMQrjbrJ0qgjjqB2RgkJdSdvRCda9z1gsBukeosgd8Zk3Xa7voRCzS0HS7V3XOOGp5ynnz8VBjHV0FFM1Urm5O1PRNJKIQyQlYchVAUngJ5uSM=s700"> Film Magic: Hamilton Park's Serene Urban Backdrop

TITLE: Hamilton Park: A Prime Filming Destination with Urban and Serene Appeal

Hamilton Park, located in the heart of Jersey City, New Jersey, offers filmmakers an ideal mix of urban and peaceful settings. With its unparalleled views of the New York City skyline from its vantage point along the Hudson River, it provides a backdrop that is both dramatic and serene. This hidden treasure has become a go-to for various filming projects, blending accessibility with scenic beauty. In this post, we'll dive into the numerous benefits of selecting Hamilton Park as a filming location and share some success stories from productions that have taken advantage of this picturesque spot.

Key Advantages of Filming at Hamilton Park

A primary benefit of filming at Hamilton Park is the stunning views of the NYC skyline it offers. The park's strategic position along the Hudson River waterfront provides a unique perspective, adding a cinematic touch to any scene that calls for a breathtaking background. Whether it’s a sunrise shot or a late-night scene, the skyline view can significantly enhance the visual appeal of a film.

Another major advantage is the park's peaceful urban oasis ambiance. Even though it's situated in a bustling city, Hamilton Park offers a tranquil environment, making it perfect for shooting dialogue-heavy scenes or moments requiring minimal background noise. The serene surroundings allow filmmakers to capture intimate and detailed scenes without the usual distractions of an urban setting.

The surrounding neighborhood further boosts Hamilton Park's versatility as a filming location. With a variety of residential buildings nearby, production teams have numerous options for shooting both interior and exterior scenes. This flexibility makes it easier to maintain visual continuity in films that need diverse settings within a localized area.

Additionally, the supportive local government and thriving New Jersey film industry offer significant advantages. Local authorities and organizations are equipped to assist and facilitate film productions, making the process of securing permits and coordinating logistics smoother. This support can greatly reduce the challenges faced during filmmaking, allowing creative teams to focus more on their projects.

Case Studies: Successful Productions at Hamilton Park

Several acclaimed productions have selected Hamilton Park for its unique features. A notable example is "The Many Saints of Newark" (2021), the prequel to "The Sopranos." This film used the park for several exterior shots, taking advantage of its greenery and iconic skyline views to enrich the visual narrative. The inclusion of Hamilton Park added depth and character to the film's setting.

Similarly, the HBO miniseries "The Plot Against America" (2020) utilized Hamilton Park’s calm atmosphere to establish a contemplative tone. Numerous scenes were shot in the park, capturing its serene environment to reflect the story's emotional depth. The park's ambience was crucial in setting the mood for these scenes.

The long-running TV series "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (1999-present) has also frequently used Hamilton Park for filming. The series leverages the park's versatility and proximity to the NYC skyline, often using it as a backdrop for various scenes. The frequent choice of Hamilton Park for filming underscores its reliability and visual appeal as a location.

Best Practices for Filming at Hamilton Park

To ensure a smooth filming experience at Hamilton Park, it’s essential to follow several best practices. Firstly, planning ahead is crucial. Securing the necessary permits and coordinating with local authorities well in advance can avoid last-minute challenges. Engaging with the local film office or relevant organizations can provide insights and streamline the process.

Effectively utilizing park resources can also enhance the filming process. Collaborate with the park staff to identify the best locations within the park for specific scenes and to take advantage of available resources such as electricity or restroom facilities. The park staff can offer invaluable advice on the optimal usage of different park areas.

Respecting the environment is paramount to maintaining Hamilton Park’s natural beauty. Ensure that the production team follows a strict leave-no-trace policy. This not only preserves the park for future filming endeavors but also shows respect for the community and the natural surroundings. Cleaning up and minimizing disruption will keep the park pristine and available for public enjoyment.

Hamilton Park stands out as a prime film location that combines urban sophistication with serene landscapes. Filmmakers can capitalize on the park's unique features—from breathtaking skyline views to a peaceful setting that’s perfect for capturing detailed scenes. By understanding the advantages of this location and learning from successful productions, film crews can leverage Hamilton Park’s hidden charm to create captivating visual narratives. As more productions discover this gem, Hamilton Park's reputation as an outstanding filming location continues to grow, offering endless possibilities for creative storytelling.

#FilmingLocations #HamiltonPark #NYCSkyline #UrbanOasis #FilmProduction

Need the perfect urban setting for your next film project? Learn more at https://www.kvibe.com.

[myfrenzi]

From Book to Screen: International Literary Adaptations

From Book to Screen: International Literary Adaptations — Discover the Best Movies on OTT

1. “To Kill a Mockingbird” (1962) — Netflix

Harper Lee’s timeless classic, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” comes alive in this thought-provoking adaptation. Set in the American South during the 1930s, the film tells the story of Atticus Finch, a principled lawyer, and his children, Scout and Jem. As they navigate racial injustice and moral dilemmas, the film beautifully captures the essence of the novel.

2. “Pride and Prejudice” (2005) — Amazon Prime Video

Jane Austen’s beloved novel gets a delightful makeover in this adaptation starring Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen. The film breathes life into the timeless love story between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, set against the backdrop of early 19th-century England.

3. “Life of Pi” (2012) — Disney+ Hotstar

Yann Martel’s magical tale of survival at sea takes center stage in Ang Lee’s visually stunning adaptation. “Life of Pi” whisks viewers away on a fantastical journey with Pi Patel, a young Indian boy stranded on a lifeboat with a Bengal tiger named Richard Parker.

4. “The Great Gatsby” (2013) — Hulu

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic Jazz Age novel bursts to life in this opulent adaptation. Starring Leonardo DiCaprio as the enigmatic Jay Gatsby, the film immerses audiences in the glitz, glamour, and tragedy of 1920s America.

5. “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring” (2001) — Netflix

J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic high-fantasy masterpiece receives the grand treatment in Peter Jackson’s adaptation. With a sprawling narrative, a diverse cast of characters, and breathtaking landscapes, the film sets the stage for an unforgettable quest to destroy the One Ring.

6. “The Kite Runner” (2007) — Amazon Prime Video

Khaled Hosseini’s emotionally charged novel finds a poignant portrayal in this adaptation. “The Kite Runner” follows the lifelong friendship of Amir and Hassan in war-torn Afghanistan and their journey of redemption and forgiveness.

7. “The Shining” (1980) — HBO Max

Stephen King’s spine-chilling novel takes a terrifying turn in Stanley Kubrick’s iconic adaptation. Starring Jack Nicholson, the film plunges into the psychological horrors of the Overlook Hotel, making it a must-watch for horror enthusiasts.

8. “The Martian” (2015) — Disney+ Hotstar

Andy Weir’s gripping tale of survival on the Red Planet receives a thrilling adaptation in Ridley Scott’s “The Martian.” Matt Damon’s performance as astronaut Mark Watney is nothing short of stellar.

9. “Gone Girl” (2014) — Amazon Prime Video

Gillian Flynn’s twisted thriller comes to life in David Fincher’s dark and suspenseful adaptation. “Gone Girl” keeps you on the edge of your seat as it unravels the mysteries surrounding a troubled marriage.

10. “The Fault in Our Stars” (2014) — Disney+ Hotstar

John Green’s heart-wrenching novel about young love and cancer finds a poignant adaptation. Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort deliver touching performances in this emotional rollercoaster.

Conclusion

The journey from book to screen is a testament to the enduring power of storytelling. These best movies on OTT platforms have succeeded in capturing the essence of beloved literary works, offering audiences a chance to relive the magic of these timeless tales. Whether you’re a literature enthusiast or simply seeking a captivating cinematic experience, these adaptations are a must-watch.

Explore the world of international literary adaptations on MyFrenzi and lose yourself in the pages of these extraordinary films.

5 Unique FAQs After The Conclusion

Are these movies faithful to the original books? While adaptations strive to capture the essence of the books, some details may vary. It’s a unique experience to see how directors interpret literary works.

Do these films cover the entire book’s storyline? Due to time constraints, movies often condense or modify the plot. Reading the book can provide a more comprehensive understanding of the story.

Are there more literary adaptations available on MyFrenzi? Yes, MyFrenzi offers a wide selection of literary adaptations from various genres and cultures.

Can I find movies based on lesser-known books on MyFrenzi? Absolutely! MyFrenzi celebrates diverse storytelling, including movies based on lesser-known but equally compelling books.

Do I need to read the books before watching the adaptations? It’s not necessary, but reading the books can enhance your appreciation of the films by providing additional context and insights into the characters and plot.

[spockvarietyhour]

Winona Ryder

[mastersoftheair]

an interview with anthony boyle for the times. you can read the rest here

[z34l0t]

Bernard Simon, father of The Wire creator David Simon, was taken hostage during the 1977 Hanafi Siege in Washington D.C. He wrote about the experience in a letter that was published in the NY Times.

The younger Simon included a reference to his father's ordeal (and the non-kosher food the hostages were given) in the HBO miniseries, The Plot Against America.

[jellybear455]

What's left of Anna - The Last of Us - Part 3

Pairings: Ellie x mother figure reader; Joel x reader

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, follows plot of the HBO series, I gave reader a name just in case that triggers you

Word count: 3100

Summary: Nearly fifteen years after the death of her sister, Anna Williams, Isabel Bailey journeys through post-apocalyptic America with her niece and a closed off stranger.

Part 1 Part 2

--

The museum, like the hotel, would have been gorgeous in it’s day. It stood almost stubbornly, surrounded by collapsed buildings and piles of rubble. It would have been pristine, if it weren’t for the browned cordyceps growth covering it. I gulp nervously, remembering what Tess said about the fungus. One wrong move, and infected will be coming at us from all directions.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Ellie mutters, echoing my thoughts down to a tee.

“Well, there is a way across from the top floor.” Tess says casually, adjusting her pack.

I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m totally convinced. Thanks, Theresa.”

“Oh, shut up, Isabel. We used to take it all the time. We’ll be fine.” Tess snaps back.

“You are so reassuring- what the fuck are you doing?” I ask. Joel whacks a pile of fungus with the butt of his gun.

“It’s bone dry.” Joel replies, as though that’s some kind of answer. “Could mean they’re all finally dead in there.”

Tess nods confidently, and the two pull out flashlights. I shake my head, pulling my own light out from my pack.

“Oh man,” Ellie groans.

“Marlene pack you one of these, or just sandwiches?” Joel snarks back.

“Yeah,” Ellie replies with a sigh, rummaging through her bag.

“Okay, so more ground rules.” Tess begins, shooting me a look that clearly says don’t argue. “We’re gonna go slowly. If we come up against anything, you get behind us and you stay there, okay?”

“Yes.” Ellie replies quickly. Everyone looks at me.

“Yeah, whatever, boss.” I roll my eyes, taking my rifle of my shoulder. “You are the experts, after all.”

Ellie looks between Tess, who has a gun, Joel and I with our rifles, and the pistol tucked in my pants. “I have a spare hand, you know.”

“Congratulations.” Joel replies shortly, before striding towards the museum door. He gestures for us to follow.

Just like the exterior, the museum is surprisingly well kept. Besides a few upturned cabinets, and the dead cordyceps everywhere, it looks disturbingly untouched. I sweep my light down a corridor. Empty. We approach the stairs. Joel shines his light past them and reveals a room drowning in the fungus. There is no empty space on the floor. A few decaying corpses litter the space.

“Cooked.” Joel says triumphantly.

“Finally, some luck.” Tess says.

“I wouldn’t say that yet.” I mutter, looking up to the next level.

Joel sends me a look, but otherwise ignores me. “We should have come this way in the first place.”

“Oh shit,” Ellie cries from around a corner. I rush forward, gun raised.

Slumped against the wall is a fresh corpse. The cuts across his forehead and neck looks relatively fresh, still glistening with blood.

“What the fuck did that?” Ellie asks.

Tess looks at Joel. It’s the first time I’ve seen her lose her cool. “Maybe, maybe he was attacked outside and crawled in?”

“The door was open.” I agree quietly. I want to believe it, because the other alternative is nastier. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Who would you hear?” Ellie asks. Too loud.

Joel and Tess hush her quickly, and I strain my ears, searching for anything.

Ellie lowers her voice to a whisper. “Are you saying an infected did that? Because I’ve been attacked by one, and it wasn’t like that.”

“From this moment forward, we are silent. Not quiet. Silent.” Joel mutters, just loud enough for us to hear.

“But why-”

“Just do it, El. No questions.” I cut her off. She sees the look in my eyes, and she is silent.

I follow Joel up the stairs. Ellie is close behind me. The only noise is the occasional scuff of a shoe or creak of a stair. We freeze every time. Nothing happens. My body starts to ache from tension. We approach the next flight. The cordyceps is everywhere now. If it wasn’t dead, we would have been found long ago. Even more disturbing than the fungus, is the pile of decaying infected. I try not to look at them.

Ellie steps on something and it lets out an uncomfortably loud noise. I jump, scanning the floor above us for any movement.

Joel pushes the door open gently. It creaks softly and I cringe. He scans the room, before nodding for us to follow. I let Ellie go first. I freeze, gaze snapping upwards as the roof creaks. Tess shoves me in the back, pushing us to the floor in time for the ceiling to cave in. Ellie groans beneath me, and I look back to see rubble right where I had been standing, blocking the exit. Tess had saved my life.

I grab Joel’s outstretched and uninjured hand, pulling Ellie up with me. He gives us a once over, and I turn to check on Tess. We are all unharmed, thank God.

The little scrap of relief I felt shattered as a growl reverberated down the hall. Joel and I point our rifles in the direction of the noise simultaneously. A chattering follows, and I nearly choke. Clickers.

The hairs on my neck stand up, sending a shiver down my spine. I shove Ellie behind me as we slowly back away. I struggle to control my breathing as the clicker stumbles through the doorway. It’s arms bend in unnatural shapes, and it drags one leg behind it. It’s most prominent feature, and arguably the most terrifying, was the fungus that had forced it’s way out of its skull, splitting the flesh in two and flowering across it’s face.

The clicker can’t see us, but that doesn’t make it any less deadly.

A second screech echoes from another hall, and we whir around in unison. A second clicker staggers in, and we back away from it’s path. I press my body against a display case and grit my teeth. Joel’s shoulder presses into mine on one side, and Ellie clutches my arm on the other.

Joel looks at Ellie over my head and gestures to his ears. She nods. The message is clear. Make a single nose, and you die.

The clickers screech and Ellie winces. She squeezes my arm tightly, and I squeeze my rifle. The infected stumbles past us, and Ellie sucks in a breath. That was all it took. The clicker spins around, screaming, and Joel fires his gun right in it’s stomach.

It barely flinches, launching itself at him. Joel shouts at us through gritted teeth as the other clicker charges forward. “Run!”

I fire my gun in vain until Ellie’s hand yanks on my arm. We run through the displays. The second clicker throws Joel to the ground, and I skid to a stop, aiming for it’s head. I miss, hitting it in the shoulder and gaining it’s attention. It takes after me instead, and I run for my life.

My heart beats wildly as I run, shoving over a pedestal in a desperate attempt to get it off me. The clicker takes the bait, slowing to a stop, before staggering off in another direction. I relax a little, before my flashlight flickers and I nearly drop it in surprise. It flickers again, and an idea pops into my head.

As quietly as possible, I unscrew the back end. It squeaks a little, and I wince. The clicker rattles it’s throat, and I peak around the corner slowly. The flickering light illuminates the disgusting flowery fungus for a moment, barely half a meter from my face, before shutting off completely.

I hold my breath as the infected stalks away and tip the batteries into my pocket. Crouching low, I cautiously creep back into the main room. Ellie looks petrified. A surge of protectiveness floods through me, and I nod my head towards where Joel crouches a few meters away, then hold up a finger.

Pulling a battery from my pocket, I chuck it at a display on the other side of the room, hoping Tess isn’t anywhere nearby. It clangs off a metal bar, and the clicker nearly trips as it hurries away.

Ellie starts crawling towards Joel, and I and I grit my teeth with each groan. I keep my eyes on Joel. Glass crunches beneath my boot.

The clicker throws itself towards me, and I kick it away, pushing Ellie to Joel before I’m pinned to the floor. It screams in my face, and I struggle it keep it at bay as it snaps at me. I battle a wave of hysteria, scrambling for my life.

The knife tucked in my belt is my only hope, and I desperately grapple for it with one hand. Just as my fingers close around the handle, a shot rings out. The clicker falters, and I drive the knife into it’s chest, shoving it off me.

I scramble backwards and into Joel’s legs. He holds his pistol steady, shooting the clicker in the head. It falls to the ground, but he keeps shooting until the gun clicks. I sigh in relief, and Joel helps me up. His hand squeezes mine.

The first clicker suddenly leaps out from behind a display and screams loudly. Tess jams an axe into its skull, and it writhes wildly, but doesn’t die. I snatch my rifle from the ground. This time, when I pull the trigger, I don’t miss.

Breathing heavily, my shoulders slump. Ellie rushes forward and buries herself in my side. I hold her tightly, but I don’t feel relieved. If there are any other infected in here, they’re coming for us.

“Everyone alright?” Joel asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” Tess replies, limping towards us. “Twisted ankle, but yeah.”

I look down at Ellie, running a hand up her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t shit my pants, so yeah.” She says quickly. She tries to play it off, but she’s shaking like a leaf. She winces suddenly and pulls away to roll up her sleeve. A second bite bleeds freely right on top of her scar. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here, and I’ll patch you up.” I tell her.

Joel leads us to a window, sliding it up and climbing out. I go last, my hands on Tess’s back to support her. She groans in pain. I crouch next to her on the roof, and Joel hands me a roll of tape. He hands one to Ellie for her arm.

“This way?” She asks, pointing to a wooden beam.

“Yeah,” Joel calls back. “I know it looks scary.”

“That was scary. This is wood.” She replies quickly, crossing the scaffolding with ease.

I wrap the tape securely over Tess’s sock, supporting her ankle. She tenses slightly. “Not too tight?” She shakes her head.

“There’s probably more up ahead.” Joel says from behind me.

“So we’ll deal with it then.” Tess replies shortly, snatching the tape and finishing the job herself.

I raise my hands in surprise and back away. “Are you alright, Joel? Nothing hurts? How’s your hand?”

“Fine.” He looks over at Elle on the next building. “What about her?”

“She’s fine. Or she will be,” I reply, putting my pack back on. “Ellie’s a tough nut.”

“What about the second bite? Maybe the first one just didn’t take hold-”

“Just take the good news, Joel.” Tess snaps suddenly, shoving the tape in her bag. Her voice is uncharacteristically harsh. “Can you do that? Like to think for once we could actually win?”

She waves us away, and Joel frowns, before following in Ellie’s footsteps. I linger for a moment.

“Tess?” I ask quietly. My voice shakes a little, and I clear my throat to steady it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She looks like she’s going to snap at me too, but she averts her eyes and nods. Tess looks nearly defeated. I nod back, before crossing the scaffolding and trying not to look down.

--

The State house is concerningly quiet. We crouch behind an abandoned car, watching for any signs of life. The only hint that the Fireflies have been here at all is the truck parked out the front. Although it was so rusty that I wouldn’t have believed it still ran if it weren’t for the fresh tire tracks behind it.

“Where the fuck are they?” Ellie whispers.

Joel shakes his head, doubtful they were here at all. He rises to his feet, stepping out into the open cautiously. We follow, and I take the rear. Joel quickly yanks the truck door open, pointing his gun inside. There is nothing except blood. A concerning amount of blood.

“Stay back,” Joel whispers. We reluctantly obey, and I plant myself in front of Tess and Ellie.

Joel makes a slow, full circle of the truck, before pulling open the back. It’s empty.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tess asks, stepping past me with her own gun.

“I don’t know.” Joel replies.

“Bel?” Ellie whispers. I follow her gaze and spot the drops of blood leading up the staircase.

“They went inside,” I say, loud enough for Tess and Joel to hear.

Tess snatches Ellie by the arm, infuriated, and marches up the stairs. “Come on.”

“Hey, get your hands off her!” I call out, shouldering my gun and following.

Gun first, Tess strides into the building. She doesn’t wait for us, and I shove my foot in the gap to stop the door from closing. I pull Ellie from her grip, but she doesn’t resist.

“There has to be a fucking radio or something.” Tess swears, rummaging through piles of equipment.

“Who killed them? FEDRA?” Ellie asks Joel.

“No,” He replies, rolling over a corpse with his foot. There is a massive hole in the back of the dead man’s head, and his eyes are pearly white. “One of them got bit. Healthy ones fought sick ones. Everyone lost.”

“Tess? What are you doing?” I call out.

She looks over, ignoring me and making a beeline for Ellie. “Where did Marlene say she was taking you?”

“I don’t know. Just west.” Ellie replies quickly.

I step closer, disturbed. Tess was frantic. In all the time I had known her, she was calm and collected.

“Just west. Fuck, okay.”

I remember how defeated she looked after the encounter with the clickers

“One of them’s gotta have a map on them. Joel, can you help me?”

“No, Tess. It’s over.” He stresses. “We are going home.”

“That is not my fucking home!” Tess cries. I can see the tears in her eyes. She turns away for a second, collecting herself, before standing up to face Joel. “I’m staying. Our luck had to run out, sooner or later.”

I push myself between her and Joel. “Tess, show it to me.”

“What do you-”

“Shut up, Joel.” I say, teeth gritted. “Don’t be a bitch, Tess.”

Tess sighs. “Come on, Bel. Don’t be like this.”

“Show. Me.” I hiss.

“Make me.” Tess snaps back.

“What are you going on about.” Joel butts in.

“She’s infected.” I say. It’s quiet, but everyone hears. “Now show me.”

Swallowing another argument, Tess throws her hair to the side and pulls down her shirt. The skin on her collarbone is pink and inflames, and veins pop out around oozing sores in the shape of tooth marks.

I press a hand to my mouth to stop from throwing up. It’s not the gruesome wound that makes me nauseous, but the knowledge that Tess isn’t walking out of this.

“Oops, huh?” She says, voice quivering.

I glance over at Ellie. She looks sad. “Take off your bandage.” Her wound looks sore, but not infected.

“Look, Joel. This is real. Joel, she’s fucking real.” Tess pleads, taking Ellie’s arm gently. When she lets go, her hand shakes uncontrollably. “I need you to get her to Bill and Frank’s.”

“No.”

“They’ll take her off your hands.”

“No.”

“They’ll handle it from here.”

“No. No, I can’t. They won’t take her.”

“They will, because you’ll convince them.” Tess insists. “Joel, I never ask you for anything, not the feel the way I felt-”

“No.”

“Shut the fuck up because I don’t have time. This is your chance. You get her there, you keep her alive, and you set everything right. All the shit we did… please say yes, Joel. Please.” Tess was almost sobbing now.

“Oh, fuck!” Ellie cries out, jumping away from the corpse on the floor. It groaned, flailing its arms.

Drawing my pistol, I put it out of its misery. I stared at the man’s hand, watching as fungus wrapped around his fingers. Glancing over at the other bodies, I spotted more of it twisting over their limbs. How we didn’t notice before- “We have to get out of here.”

Joel rushes to a window, but I can already hear the screams of infected in the distance.

“How many?” Tess asks. Her face glistens with tears but her eyes are hollow.

“All of them.” Joel answers, rushing closer. “Maybe a minute.”

Tess picks up Joel’s rifle, slamming the butt into a barrel. She tips it up, and gasoline pours out. She moves onto the next one quickly.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks.

“Making sure they don’t follow you.” Tess replies, tossing a box on hand grenades everywhere. She stops, walking over to Joel. He avoids her eyes. “Joel. Save who you can save.”

Joel stares for a moment. Then, he grabs Ellie and pulls her towards a back exit. I snatch a discarded magazine from atop a crate, following after. I stop in front of Tess. The infected are close, I can hear them, but I can’t stop myself from reaching out and touching her face.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.” Then I run.

Ellie screams in protest as I grab her other arm, dragging her with us.

We make it out the back and into the empty field. Ellie is running freely, but I cling to her arm still.  The State house explodes with a boom. A single tear runs down my cheek. I didn’t know Tess long, but Joel did. My heart aches for him.

He turns and walks away, leaving me and Ellie to stare at the burning building. I take her by the hand.

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

She doesn’t look at me. “Will it?”

“Yeah,” I whisper back. “It will. Eventually.”

--

Taglist: mattm1964 casa-boiardi

[ammg-old2]

The Hollywood machine—from script writing, to shooting and production, to late-night talk-show PR—has officially ground to a halt.

On Thursday, the actors went on strike. The 160,000 members of SAG-AFTRA, led by Fran Drescher, the fearless sitcom nanny, stopped working after talks with the studios collapsed. They join the ranks of the Writers Guild of America, whose members (myself included) have been on strike since May.

Our two unions have not been on strike together since 1960. The writers’ pickets at shooting locations had already shut down an estimated 80 percent of productions. Now SAG’s strike rules dictate that actors not only can’t shoot or do voice-over work for productions; they also cannot attend red carpets or promote any Motion Picture Association projects—something that was already a challenge, given that the writers’ strike had shut down the nighttime talk shows that were such a staple of the press circuit.

Much like the writers, actors are looking for increases in their residual pay—compensation that’s akin to royalty checks—once-reliable income that has all but vanished in the pivot to streaming. Actors are also seeking protections against artificial intelligence using their voice and image.

Bob Iger, Disney’s CEO, called these expectations “just not realistic.” He accused the strikers of “adding to a set of challenges that this business is already facing that is quite frankly very disruptive and dangerous.”

This was a bit rich, coming days after a studio executive told Deadline that their strategy was “to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses.”

Eviction is a pretty cruel labor-negotiation strategy.

Hollywood’s CEOs are suffering. Not primarily from labor disputes or industry disruption or public-relations issues, but from vincible ignorance, which seems to be endemic in C-suites of all industries. Under pressure to deliver to Wall Street, too many CEOs have lost the plot of their own movie. They are not running companies to profitably deliver a good product, such as a book or a cup of coffee or, in this case, a movie or TV show. They are running companies to deliver good profit. The quality of their product has ceased to matter.

If you doubt this, consider that when Emmy nominations were announced last week, the lions’ share went to HBO Max, a prestige platform that has ceased to exist by that name, because Warner Bros. Discovery took the streaming arm of the legacy brand and folded it into a messy app crowded with low-budget reality programs. We are in the upside-down.

Writers and actors have been caught up in the pivot to streaming, the mad logic of which has upended long-standing working practices, slowly begun to replace human instinct with artificial intelligence, and obliterated workers’ income streams.

The actor Mark Proksch, for example, made more money off residuals from one season of guest appearances on The Office, under the old system, than he has in five seasons of starring in What We Do in the Shadows, under the new system.

Now, just as Hollywood workers are arguing that we need to adjust our compensation models to fit the streaming era, the studios are telling us that we cannot be fairly paid, because the streaming model is broken. And we’re being told this by the very studio executives—many of them multimillionaires—who broke it.

This is another aspect of C-suite ignorance: Bonkers executive compensation has utterly detached leaders from the lives of the people they employ. The fact that David Zaslav, the CEO of Warner Bros. and Discovery, earned $247 million in 2021 makes it very hard to swallow his refusal to budge on issues that are costing middle-class actors thousands of dollars a year in lost income.

You can argue all you like about whether anyone should ever earn this much, but these are leaders who have made some disastrous business decisions.

The pivot to streaming was extremely profitable for the brief moment when everyone was trapped at home during a pandemic. People couldn’t spend money on concerts or eating out or traveling, so they felt comfortable spending an abnormal amount on streaming services.

Hollywood CEOs saw the success of Netflix and raced to copy a model without knowing whether it was sustainable, a model that relied on the constant production of new (and costly) entertainment content created by unionized talent. They were wrong about the business, but they were even more wrong to presume that labor would comply. The actors and writers didn’t make this pivot; why should they pay the price?

If the pivot to streaming was such a mistake that these businesses truly are going under—a case that’s hard to make, given the size of these executives’ compensation packages—we will have to suffer too. But if we suffer during lean times, we should also share in the profits during fat ones. That is what the negotiations are about. The only way that executives will be able to right this ship is to return to making unmissable programming, and they won’t be able to do that without us.

Absent good script writers, Hollywood executives have taken their lines from Marie Antoinette. But the revolutionaries are already outside, dismantling the palace. In London, the cast of Oppenheimer walked out of the film’s premiere. Press tours for Barbie have been halted; even the stars’ pink-laden social-media accounts have gone dark. The Emmys will likely be postponed. Comic-Con will be sans actors or writers. I am desperately hopeful that the studios will realize sooner rather than later that even if it hurts shareholders for a time, good entertainment, long-term, is always good business.

[afrotumble]

George attended St. John's University and interned at the New York Amsterdam News. He was hired as black music editor for Record World and then as music editor for Billboard magazine(82 to 89). While there, George published two books: Where Did Our Love Go: The Rise and Fall of the Motown Sound in 1986, and The Death of Rhythm & Blues in 1988. He also wrote a column, entitled "Native Son", for the Village Voice (88-92). He first got involved in film when, in 1986, he helped to finance director Spike Lee's debut feature She's Gotta Have It.[6]

Literary work

George has authored 15 non-fiction books, including the bestseller The Michael Jackson Story in 1984, Blackface: Reflections on African-Americans and the Movies in 1994, Elevating the Game: Black Men and basketball in 1992, and Hip Hop America in 1998. In 2005, he published Post-Soul Nation, which further developed his concept of "post-soul" black culture. With Alan Leeds, he co-authored The James Brown Reader, a collection of articles about the "Godfather of Soul," in 2008. George's The Death of Rhythm and Blues chronicles and critiques the path that R&B has taken.

George has written three detective novels featuring bodyguard-turned-private investigator D Hunter. All three novels—The Accidental Hunter, The Plot Against Hip-Hop: A Novel, and The Lost Treasures of R&B—have been optioned by rapper/actor Common.[9]

Film and television work

In 1991, George co-wrote the Halle Berry vehicle Strictly Business and in 1993 he was co-creator of the movie CB4 starring comedian Chris Rock.

In 2004, George made a short film called To Be a Black Man, starring Samuel L. Jackson, and a documentary called A Great Day in Hip-Hop. Both titles appeared in festivals in New York, London, and Amsterdam. He executive-produced the HBO film Everyday People which also debuted in 2004 at the Sundance Film Festival.

Currently he is serving as co-executive producer of VH1's Hip Hop Honors television show and executive producer of Black Entertainment Television's American Gangster series, which was the highest rated series in the history of BET in 2006. His directorial debut, Life Support, starring Queen Latifah, aired on HBO on March 10, 2007. Latifah won several awards for her performance as Ana Wallace, including a Golden Globe, Screen Actors Guild award, and the NAACP Image Award. The show itself won best TV film of the year by the NAACP.  

A resident of Fort Greene, Brooklyn, for more than 25 years, George wrote, narrated, and co-directed with Diane Paragas the 2012 feature documentary Brooklyn Boheme, portraying the uniquely vibrant and diverse African-American artistic community of Fort Greene and Clinton Hill during the 1980s and '90's that included Spike Lee, Chris Rock, Branford Marsalis, Rosie Perez, Saul Williams, Lorna Simpson, Toshi Reagon, writer Touré, writer Adario Strange, Guru of Gang Starr, Erykah Badu, and Talib Kweli, among many others. In 2015, George released A Ballerina's Tale, a documentary on Misty Copeland, a principal ballet dancer for ABT (American Ballet Theatre).