#(there are so SO many young boys named caesar who were then stabbed to death by somebody

[notbecauseofvictories]

I also think about this a lot with age. I was reading about Elagabalus, who managed to become Roman emperor at 14. While he was very much a puppet of his grandmother, and presumably people knew that (or at least suspected that Julia Maesa wasn't there to bake cookies) I genuinely wonder if this teenager decked out in gold and laurel wreaths rolled up, and all the actual adults in the Senate exchanged Meaningful Glances.

It's heartening sometimes to realize how incredibly ordinary historical figures looked. If you watch a bunch of period dramas, you come away thinking that history was made exclusively by shockingly attractive people---when actually, famous poets with burnished names look more like Jim, The Local Bank Manager; artists who broke the mold wouldn't look out of place scrolling through their phone on the subway. You could walk past the absurdly wealthy doyennes of society in the grocery store and never give them a second glance.

[awed-frog]

in which caesar doesn’t do anything much and all the women are named julia

[Hi, this is me stanning Adrian Goldsworthy’s biography of Caesar. I studied Classics, but not this period, so all I can contribute here are squeals of delight, a few mistakes and the occasional witty comment. If you’d like to know more, please buy the book - it’s really good and a fun read.]

PART 2

The thing is - there’s a lot of boring relevant political stuff going on in this chapter, but I’m mostly fascinated by the glimpses we get into the world of Roman women. 

As I said, this is not really my area, so I know random, unconnected facts about how life was like for them; also it doesn’t make much sense to talk about ‘Roman women’, because, as a reminder, ‘Rome’ stretches from the 14th century BC to the 14th century AD, came to include dozens of very different regions, and obviously was home to an incredibly diverse population. And if we’re talking about the late Republican / imperial aristocracy, there’s a sharp divide anyway: on the one hand, the ‘ideal woman’ is the same old model we’re all used to and heard about (silent, obedient, virtuous, chaste, a perfect mother and so on), but on the other, Roman noblewomen had a lot more freedom than, say, their Greek counterparts, so there was usually some political scheming going on - something that in Greece was reserved to a handful of very well-placed courtesans. 

(In this sense, think about the contrast between Lucretia, the mythological wife of Collatinus, whose fridging created the Republic, and Agrippina, mother of Nero, empress and all-round badass bitch.)

Anyway, this chapter made me think about women because it starts with Caesar being born and getting his name - it’s sort of an urban legend, btw, that every single Roman had three names: that was just for the Moste Noblest - and how Goldsworthy casually mentions that, unlike men, women of noble birth would just take their family surname as first name. In Caesar’s family, for instance, all the women were named Julia.

(As a reminder: his given name was Caius, then ‘Julius’ identified the tribe, and finally ‘Caesar’ was a nickname that was possibly given to his grandfather for something elephant-related. 

People whose grandfathers did not do elephant-related stuff generally never enjoyed the prestige of a funny nickname passed down through the generations.)

So it’s bad enough that twins might be named ‘Peter and Not-Peter’ or ‘Peter and Twin’, but imagine going to the park with your buggy and meeting your old friend Oldest She-Jones (daughter of Ferdinand Jones), now married to George David Taylor, and her five kids - Louis David Taylor, She-Taylor, She-Taylor the Second, She-Taylor the Third and She-Taylor Born on Christmas. So damn cute, and also the reason why the Romans never developed smartphones or social media - how the hell are you supposed to find someone on Vultocodex when every single cousin and aunt has the exact same name?

Poor management, that is.

But anyway - as I said, there’s a dissonance here because women being treated like garbage (like, not given normal names and married off at fourteen) also led to the very peculiar phenomenon: generations of (male) politicians and VIPs being raised by very forceful, strong, and ambitious (widowed) mothers. Because if you count old age, wars, trampolining injuries (let’s be honest, men have always been obsessed with attempting dangerous stunts just for the fun of it) and the general risks of Roman politics, it was very usual for a noble kid to not even remember his father at all.

(Nero is a good example of how weird and all-consuming this boy-mother relationship could become - there’s entire books about it, but I’d point 16-and-over readers to Suetonius’ Life of Nero for details.

Keep in mind 95% of it is propaganda because Suetonius hated Nero, but still. HBO-worthy stuff in there.)

All this to say - we know that Caesar had a very close relationship with his mom (named ‘Aurelia’ because - you guessed it - she came from the Aurelii family), who was a near perfect figure of virtue, intelligence, beauty and common sense. Very powerful in her own right, Aurelia raised Caesar basically on her own, because her (much older) husband was either away at war or dead for most of their marriage.

Aside from drinking in Aurelia’s wisdom, Caesar’s education also included the normal lessons noble Roman boys were required to learn: self-worth, narcissism, delusional manias, rhetoric, martial arts, horse-riding, and writing really bad fanfiction based on Greek myths.

And now for the MEANWHILE part.

(I have no idea why this gif was tagged ‘meanwhile’, but I’m not enough of an idiot to let it go to waste, so.)

Meanwhile, all sort of messes were going on.

As I’m sure you remember, at some point the consul was Marius - Caesar’s uncle and a military genius, but not much of a politician. His negotiation tactic of choice was secretly inviting groups of unconnected people to his house on the same night, serving them dinner in two separate rooms so they wouldn’t see one another and try to work out some kind of agreement between them. Whenever a new point came up, Marius would say he had diarrhoea, pretend to run to the bathroom and instead sit down with the second group and see what they thought about the first group’s proposal.

(Isn’t ancient Rome magnificent?)

A big problem Marius had to deal with was how to grant citizenship to the allied tribes in Italy without pissing off current citizens. Basically no one wanted these other guys to be given new rights, but since they supplied more than half the soldiers of the Roman army and got nothing in return, their patience was running a bit thin. At some point, Roman bureaucrats started to erase foreign-born citizens from their lists claiming they were not actual citizens (something so openly dishonest NO OTHER GOVERNMENT would EVER attempt it again), and next yet another tribune working on a citizenship reform was stabbed to death in the street. 

So the allies went to war. 

(This war, confusingly, is known as the Social War, because ‘socius’ means ‘ally’ in Latin.)

As you can imagine, it was a disaster. Most of the allied communities had been part of the Roman republic for I don’t want to check but let’s say decades, they lived side by side with Roman families and fought in the same wars, so it was more of a civil war than anything else. Some tribes chose to remain faithful to Rome, others didn’t. Lots of people died.

Caesar was too young to be a soldier, but this was Cicero’s first taste of war (bet you never thought of that weaselly weasel as a soldier, uh? appearances can be deceiving, folks!). Marius was also involved, but since he was old as shit and had famously weak and leaky guts (hahahhaha), he mostly stayed out of active combat, which wasn’t all that normal for a Roman general. In the end, the whole of Italy, down to defeated tribes, cows, dogs and random patches of mossy rocks, was granted citizenship and everyone went home. Their votes, however, were inserted in the system in such a way that they didn’t count much. 

On the whole, the one winner of this war was Lucius Cornelius Sulla, one of the military commanders, who became a consul soon after.

Another war, because this is Rome and Romans were dicks, but! this one was in the East, which means every single soldier would get super rich and also! wars in the East were considered easy because *insert racist trope here* and! Sulla had been promised that, as the big winner of the Social War, he could go there with his legions and basically enjoy this Disneyland of golden cups and ultraviolence but! at the last moment, Marius, who never liked Sulla much, managed to snatch the commandership from him, which! was completely legal but also *insert outraged emoji* and wait for it! instead of going gentle into the good night, Sulla made a fiery speech to his soldiers all like GUESS WHAT FOLKS WE’RE STUCK HERE SCRATCHING OUR TESTICULI AND THOSE IDIOTS FROM THE 25TH ARE TAKING YOUR GOLD AND YOUR UNWILLING WOMEN and! Sulla’s entire army marched! on! the! city! of! Rome!

It was the first time a Roman army had ever invaded Rome. Nobody was expecting it, and people panicked. Sulla’s men won easily, burned down some buildings, killed some people, generally had a great time; and then Sulla announced a bounty for anyone who’d disembowel his political enemies (including Marius) because he didn’t have time to go to Braavos and learn how to do it himself (remember, he still had his war waiting for him in the East).

(This turned out to be a success, btw. One guy was even killed by his slave - Sulla gave him the promised reward, then shoved him off a mountain because duh, slave and “When I said ‘anyone’, I meant people, not IKEA furniture” and “Honestly”.)

As nobody could have imagined and/or predicted, as soon as Sulla left for Greece Weak Guts Marius came back with an army and took back the city, beheading his way to the Senate and leaving a trail of blood wherever he passed. As soon as he got there, however, he dropped dead - heart attack, trampolining, diarrhoea, who can tell - and the city was taken over by his second-in-command, Lucius Cornelius Cinna.

(Man, what a ride.)

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to know what Caesar was doing during this time.

Personally, I like to imagine him in Rome - a well-dressed, grey-eyed 15-year-old, freshly orphaned, horrified and exhilarated by the violence exploding all around him - I see him running down the streets, stopping to watch the corpses float in the dark waters of the Tiber, daring his friends to go and touch the severed heads nailed to the doors of the Senate; recognizing many of those heads as friends and colleagues of his father and uncle (passing a hesitant finger on the cold flesh, remembering how they’d once laughed and frowned and spoken about boring matters from the dais). 

The truth is, Caesar was just a kid. He was supposed to learn about the Republic, and his own role in making it great, by watching his elders. 

God knows what he actually learned, and what he thought, as he was passing through Rome’s paved streets, now shimmering with blood. 

PREVIOUS — NEXT

[stellarcheetah-archived]

Silence

It's waiting, always trying I feel the hands of fate, they're suffocating Tell me what's the reason Is it all inside my head Can't take it no more

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, staring down at the makeshift memorial in the grass. The brightly-coloured flowers seemed to stare back at him from the arrangement, seemed to sap the strength from his bones even as he stood there. He was vaguely aware of the tiny hand that found a grip on his finger, making his heart jump in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Stay close, please,” Amon chided the girl gently, keeping an eye on her as she stared at the displays that lined the market square.

“Yes, Amon,” she answered, hurrying to walk a bit closer to him while still watching the stalls with curiosity. There was so many things to see; so many bright colours and shiny trinkets, flags and banners waving in the breeze as merchants tried to get the attention of passers-by. The height of the summer was the busiest time of the year for Briarton. Folk of many kinds passed through with their wares, bringing wonders from far away that never ceased to amaze her.

The nobleman couldn’t help the faint smile that pulled at his lips, watching her. The child was still so young, and still so full of wonder for the world despite the tragedy that had befallen her. He watched her pause for a moment as they passed a stall of fresh flowers, standing on her toes to stick her face among the blooms.

“What are you doing?” he teased gently, stopping to keep from getting too far ahead of her.

“Smelling the flowers! Mom always said it was important to take time to stop and smell the roses. These aren’t roses, but they’re important too,” she announced, breathing in the scent as he walked over.

“Your mother was very wise, then,” he said softly, letting his gaze pan over the selection before glancing up at the merchant watching them. She offered a respectful curtsy, and he nodded an answer. He glanced back down at the little girl at his side, then back to the merchant, before fishing a coin from his pocket to press into her hand. Receiving another curtsy and a thanks, she tucked the coin into her purse as he plucked a pure white bloom from among the carefully-pruned flowers.

Marie turned her head from her inspection as he knelt at her side, curiosity turning to surprise, then awe as he offered it to her.

“For me?” she asked, eyes like saucers as she looked from the flower, then up to him.

“For you,” he affirmed, tucking it delicately behind her ear. She reached up, her fingers brushing the soft petals. The smile that spread across her face as he stood back up was worth far more than anything he’d ever owned. She caught him by surprise as she suddenly flung herself against him, squeezing his leg in a big hug before she pulled away again.

“Thank you!” she squealed, reaching up to touch the bloom again. He patted her gently on the head with a chuckle, starting to move forward.

“You’re welcome, Marie. Now come along, we still have a lot to do today,” he said. She offered a quick wave to the flower merchant before hurrying after him; catching him off-guard a second time as her hand found a grip on his fingers to hold on to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The soft, chirping sigh from the cleric beside him drew him back from his reverie, the grip on his finger slipping away as they stepped forward. The loss of the touch left him feeling cold, his other hand closing tighter around the symbol of Pelor tucked against his chest.

He tried again to swallow the lump that strangled his throat, wanting to say something- anything- to contribute to the tiny ceremony, but the words would not come. It was too much.

Brutus.

Fontane.

Marie.

Now, Alexis Merrikson.

He had only perhaps seen Alexis once or twice, and he couldn’t remember ever speaking to the man. But Alexis had been under his jurisdiction; his subject, under his protection. He knew in his mind that there was nothing he could have done, no protection he could possibly have offered that would have prevented this.

His heart disagreed. Another. They were mourning another, so soon. A tiny twist of black ink, seeping through the cracks and stabbing icy needles through his soul, burrowed itself into him. The curse of Amon Thomas Illiad, it said. Wherever you go, death will follow you.

He tried to crush the thought.

This wasn’t his fault.

This wasn’t his fault.

This wasn’t. His. FAULT.

A new touch on his arm snapped him out of it, forcing his attention onto the half-orc that had come up to his side. He loosened his grip on the holy symbol, where the rays of the sun shape had begun to dig into his glove.

“Are you...” the man trailed off, hesitating a moment before starting again. “...Would you like comfort?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, the response coming out instinctively without a thought. Abernathy seemed unconvinced, his expression turning to one of sympathy as he patted the noble’s back gently.

“If you ever need someone... I am here, Amon,” he said, Caesar scooting up to his feet as though in agreement.

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, dropping his hand from his chest to pat the dog on the head in reflex. Abe looked... hurt, but stepped back with an understanding nod.

“Of course.”

He didn’t need anyone. He was a man, and a lord: an Illiad. He had shown more than enough emotion in front of this haphazard band already. His father would be ashamed of him. He couldn’t afford to be weak anymore.

So he forced down the cry that rose in his throat, bit back the tears that stung behind his eyes; slamming shut the doors to barricade them with silence.

There is dignity in silence, Amon. If you cannot meet adversity with grace, then meet it with silence. To show anything else is weakness, and they will use it to strip you of all the pride you and your name carry. Do not disappoint me again.

He remembered. Of course he remembered. It had been beaten into him.

Why are you crying, boy? If you cannot handle a few bruises, how can you expect to defend your people? You are to be lord protector of the Emerald Expanse; you cannot squeal like a kicked pup at every slight against you. Dignity in silence, Amon! I thought you had learned that by now.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm. His jaw clenched, lips pulling into a thin line. He had to hold it together. He had to remember who he was. Though he did not deserve it, and he knew he would be stripped of the title soon enough, for now he was still Lord Amon, and he had to act like it.

It was the only way he knew how to survive.

[aion-rsa]

Does The Many Saints of Newark Begin a New Chapter of The Sopranos?

https://ift.tt/39ZMSFm

This article contains light spoilers for The Many Saints of Newark.

The Sopranos prequel film, The Many Saints of Newark is David Chase’s return to the New Jersey city where his families lived, worked, and occasionally breathed their last. The film focuses on Christopher Moltisanti’s (Michael Imperioli) father Dickie Molitisanti (Alessandro Nivola), and his struggle with doing the right thing against things that have to be done right. He is very supportive of the film’s most important supporting role. Michael Gandolfini, the 22-year-old son of James Gandolfini, plays a young Tony Soprano.

While the film doesn’t explore Christopher’s claim that his father, Tony’s hero, was a junkie, it does fill in many of the plot points which lead to events in the series. But not all. Not even close. The young Tony Soprano is only a pinky swear away from living a legitimate life, varsity sweater or not.

Alan Taylor directed the pilot for The Sopranos and it looks like he’s just helmed the maiden voyage of what we hope will be a series of films bridging The Many Saints of Newark to the influential HBO series. David Case has mentioned in interviews that he’s now open to this line of thinking, 14 years after the series cut to black.

Taylor’s project is directing the pilot of the upcoming Interview with the Vampire series, which will delve deeply into the books of Anne Rice. He also directed the pilot of Mad Men, introduced dragons to Game of Thrones, and framed memorable episodes of Deadwood, Rome, Nurse Jackie, Lost, Sex and the City, and The West Wing. The former history professor might appreciate a revisionist retelling of the responses to Thor: The Dark World (2013) and Terminator Genisys (2015), but plumbed deep, dark street life in Kill the Poor (2003), and commonplace criminals grounded in concrete comedy in Palookaville (1995) which starred gangster genre favorite William Forsythe.

The Many Saints of Newark director Alan Taylor broke bread with Den of Geek, speaking about Tony Soprano’s past, Dickie Moltisanti’s future, and Sylvio Dante’s hair piece.

Den of Geek: The Many Saints of Newark ends on a real mystery. Is there any chance for a sequel to the sequel?

Alan Taylor: Well, it’s funny, I don’t think David will ever make anything where it doesn’t end with, “Okay, what happens or what just happened?” David Chase will always leave things open-ended. So, I think the door will never close. It was funny making this. I thought it was going to be a one-shot thing, but David seems to be thinking about possible sequels. And I do think there’s a “Tony Soprano, the young gangster” movie to be made, that we haven’t made yet because, in ours, we didn’t get there.

Will Michael Gandolfini be able to do that?

It would be really tough to be an actor playing Tony Soprano and not be Michael Gandolfini.

I agreed with David Chase about The Sopranos being a comedy. But did you have that mindset on set?

We’ve all drunk deep at the well of Scorsese, and humor is never absent. When things get to be their most extreme is when humor sort of breaks out, in that tone of that world. That’s partly a Scorsese thing. It’s partly maybe an American thing, inappropriate humor at violent moments. Certainly, humor was all the way through the series and hopefully there’s some of that in the movie as well.

Because we tried to capture the tones of the series and bring them in and the humor of it, but also the off-kilter weirdness. This dreaminess, that slightly surreal quality that sometimes came into the show. I love the fact that we have scenes that may or may not have actually taken place. Who knows whether Dickie Moltisanti actually coached a baseball team or whether that’s just a delusion?

In the series you use malapropisms and you explore comedy more openly. Is it easier to explore on TV than it is in film?

No, humor can be anywhere you want it or not want it to be. I think humor was a sustained, crucial element of the show from the beginning. From the pilot on, you had characters that were almost comic relief, like Ray Abruzzo’s Carmine Jr., the malaprop guy. To me, their humor is a big part of this movie. John Magaro handling his toupee is Sopranos’ humor to me and Paulie being worried about his mustard-colored leisure suit when they’re doing something really shitty to somebody is also the tone of the show. So, to me, it’s there.

I read there was a shot filmed that was not used with Edie Falco. Can you tell me anything else about it?

Read more

Movies

How The Many Saints of Newark Almost Brought Carmela Soprano Back

By Alec Bojalad and 1 other

I’m already starting to think it was not a great idea to, to say that much. It’s one of those things that I mentioned, because I tend to be candid and brutally honest. Movies are made and you’re not quite sure of the shape while you’re making it, sometimes. The beginning we have right now was a stroke of genius that David came up with very late in the game. We had an earlier beginning that we actually had shot, but we replaced it with this opening, and it seemed to shape the movie more and contain the movie more and felt more necessary.

So, sadly Edie doesn’t appear, but it was a great excuse to bring her in. We got to put her through hair and makeup and wardrobe and she became Carmela again for a second. But yeah, it’s just part of the brutal process of finding the movie along the way.

You play a lot with foreshadowing, does Christopher come into the world knowing Tony is going to kill him one day with two fingers?

Well, it depends on if you’re an atheist like me, or that woman sitting at the table with them who tells us something that I’m almost willing to believe: “Sometimes babies, when they come into this world, they know all kinds of stuff on the other side.” I love the fact that she’s talking about the other side, meaning the other side of death. But she’s also talking about the other side of, like: on HBO. You know we’re in the movies now but he knows things from TV that most people don’t know. My favorite foreshadow is less supernatural than that. There’s a scene where young Tony, played by William Ludwig, not by Michael, turns to his uncle and says “I saw a guy get shot in the back. I don’t want that to happen to me.” I don’t know how you read the final scene of The Sopranos series, but I know how I read the final scene. So, to me that’s foreshadowing

I understand you and David Chase disagree on this.

Who does he think he is? Yeah, it’s funny. We disagree on that and I think it’s okay to disagree. I’ve spoken to him. He will not commit to what happened in that room. When he tells it, it’s like every possibility is there in Tony’s life, and he just turns the TV off. But to me, I’m committed to the idea that Tony was shot in the back of the head by a guy wearing a Members Only jacket. I’ve got my reasons for thinking that. So, I’m just going to agree to disagree.

Read more

TV

The Sopranos’ Best End Credit Songs

By Shawn Laib

TV

The Sopranos: Explaining the Final Scene

By Jamie Andrew

But there was one line of dialogue in the whole history of Sopranos that was set as dialogue and then repeated as voice over. It’s only happened once, I think. And that was when (Bobby) Bacala says “when the bullet’s got your name on it. You probably don’t hear it coming.” I’m going to go with that and say that’s what happened at Holsten’s.

You’ve directed some of my favorite death scenes. You killed Caesar (in Rome), Ned Stark (in Game of Thrones), Christopher and Dickie, and they’re all stylistically unique.

Don’t forget Wild Bill Hickok (in Deadwood). As an episodic director, you never quite know what you’re going to get when you go in. When you see you’re killing a major character that is like you won the lottery. When I got to do Ned Stark, that was great.

Is there anything different about going into shooting an epic scene like that than the mundane scenes that lead up to it?

Maybe I’m just perverse in my head, but one of the guiding things for doing something like the Ned Stark death was to deliberately shoot it in a kind of mundane way. I wanted the angle that, where his head gets chopped off, to be a coverage angle that we’ve already been using, no special, heightened dramatic angles for the big event. I think a lot of people watched that scene, not ready to believe that he was going to die because knew he was the main character.

Of course, anybody who read the novels knew what was coming at some point, but a lot of people thought, “OK, got it, a big TV show, here is the main character.” So, I was trying not to telegraph the inevitable or to over-dramatize it. In that one, I was actually shooting his coverage almost like it was a conversation.

When I killed Caesar, I just tried to do it with historical accuracy. We did all this research about who stabbed him when and where, and tried to match the reality of that gruesome killing. There are a few ways worse to go than being stabbed to death by a bunch of people you know. Trying to capture that feeling and just be true to it. I probably got stylized with that a bit more. I remember there were top shots and slow motion and things, but every death is different, I guess.

How do you think long-time Anne Rice fans are going to respond to the upcoming Interview with the Vampire?

Boy, that’s a pressing question on my calendar today. I signed up for it because I loved her book so much. I remember I just moved to New York, I read Interview with the Vampire, and it kind of blew my mind. The feeling I got from the book was: “Okay, you’ve seen a bunch of vampire stories, but that’s all bullshit. Here’s the truth. This is the real thing.” She did it amazingly well in that first novel and then built an empire out of it.

I’m hoping people will find things to love in the version we’re going to do. That’s true to that. But also, the writer, Roland Jones, has made some changes that I think deepen and do some very intriguing things with the basic story. We’re working with the Rice estate and they’re on board with it. I think we’re carrying the original appeals of the novel, but I think we’re also making some changes that make it worth exploring again.

The mixture of vampires and gangsters is too rarely explored. I love the movie Innocent Blood.

I’m the guy. Yeah, that should be my next genre would be the vampire gangster movie. I’m sure there’s been a few.

Did you know wise guys growing up?

No, I grew up in small-town Canada, even though it was the capital. I lived in Italy as a child, so I feel like I have a real affection for Italian culture and Italian-American culture that I think comes out of that early period. I was dropped into a school where only Italian was spoken as a kid. I think that’s one of my connections to it, and I live in New York. I live in Brooklyn. I used to live in Soho right next to Little Italy. So, those places were still big social clubs at the time and that’s where I was hanging out. So, at least I brushed up against it.

You directed the pilot where Tony says he’s coming in at the end, and you’re here at the end of this movie. Do you think Tony should have finished college?

Wow, that’s just one of the small questions that raises the big question of: Did Tony have to turn out the way he did? I think the meaning of our movie is that no one is locked in a destiny, but it’s amazing how often we feel that way and how often it turns out that way. Tony should have finished college. Tony should have gotten away from his mother. Tony should have done a lot of things that might have kept his horizons broader than they were. Luckily, he didn’t and we have a great TV show as a result, but I think he could have been a happier person with less blood on his hands.

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The Many Saints of Newark will be released in theaters on October 1, and will be available on HBO Max for 31 days from the theatrical release.

The post Does The Many Saints of Newark Begin a New Chapter of The Sopranos? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[pendragonfics]

Down The Rabbit Hole

Paring: Jim Hopper/Reader

Tags: female reader, Stranger Things spoilers, parent Jim Hopper, fluff & hurt and comfort.

Summary: You're a teacher at Hawkins Middle, who's accidental right-place-at-the-wrong-time leads you to be a part of the secret goings-on in Hawkins. Jim Hopper is just a cop, trying to do right by the law, who happens to adopt a psionic pre-teen who's in your history class.

Request: by @seksibaek - hope you like it! 

Word Count: 2,176

Current Date: 2017-12-02

A school teacher’s wage was decent. It had you living in a nice, small house paying rent by the week, living modestly in the small town of Hawkins. You wanted a dog, but didn’t have the yard, or fence for it. You taught history, but inside, wished you could teach English. But your mother, and your mother’s mother were teachers, and all the __________ family name had been teachers since women could be teachers, and there was no greater subject in your lineage than history. It wasn’t that history was terrible, but perhaps, that the greatest things to ever happen had already happened, and life in 1982 would never live up to the epics.

But that was true until you all but fell into the rabbit hole, or rather, the conspiracy of danger that lurked after dark in Hawkins. It had been a Friday night, and unlike those who unwound from the weekly stress by watching Charlies Angels, you took yourself on long walks around the lake, taking time to remove your mind from unruly students and unmarked tests to be completed before Monday.

But it was here you found something truly and utterly horrible. The body of one of your students, the young Will Byers, the body blue and bloated upon the water’s edge. You wasted no time calling 911, and when State Trooper O’Bannen came to the scene, you were frightened out of your wits. You wished you could take a week from work to process the horrible thing you found, but it wasn’t an option. The kids at Hawkins Middle School needed to keep the daily routine, despite the death of a fellow student.

Apart from Mrs. Byers, the only person who stopped long enough to care about what you saw was the Hawkins Chief of police, Jim Hopper. But then again, he was chasing a case too, because not too long after that, another student went missing, from a grade you didn’t teach. Barbara Holland. And then there as something about a little girl, with a shaved head –

You kept your head down, and taught history to the classes you had. No matter how strange the world seemed now, there was one consistent thing that kept your kids writing their essays on time, and that was the fall of Rome.

You even planned to have an in-class event where you would bring in old sheets and had them dress up like senators. Minus the stabbing, of course. But you didn’t, in the end. Instead you put on a VCR of Julius Caesar and fast-forwarded past the murderous parts.

But as much as going back to everyday life went, it just couldn’t. Perhaps it was because every so often, you’d have a knock on your classroom door, a visitor on your home’s doorstep. The one and only Chief Hopper. And further down the rabbit hole you fell – unrequitedly in love with the police chief.

“Do you have ten minutes?” he’d ask, eyes pleading. “I need to hear your statement again for the Byers case.”

You’d agree. Ten minutes would turn to an hour. Talk would stay mostly on topic, until he’d notice your empty ring finger, and you’d notice the tan line on his, empty. Then he’d get radioed in by the station, and off he’d go.

“I need you to come with me, on this,” he’d say, leaning against your front door like the lead man in an early Hollywood movie, all dramatic and gorgeous, “I have to check out a lead, but I need someone.”

“Why don’t you ask one of your officers at the station?” You ask, your hands full of dough from your biweekly bread making, the dough falling off as you talked. “I’m just…me.”

He shook his head. “It’s more than needing back up. I need someone, who can, uh, talk to civilians…who isn’t a part of all of it.” He looks to your hands, and the carpet where the dough is plopping onto it. “Sorry if it isn’t a good time –,”

You shake your head. “It’s a sourdough, so it needs plenty of time to rise by itself. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to help out.”

When you’re all cleaned up, you notice all the dough has been picked up from the carpet. You don’t say anything, and instead lock the house up, and don’t think twice about getting into his car, and roaring away to nearly out of town.

Down the rabbit hole? Perhaps you were always there. Life seemed to be upside down, back to front, and shaken up for good measure. You fell further behind in your marking for the classes you taught, further away from the required norms required for single, young school teachers spending time around reputable, divorced police chiefs.

If anyone gossiped, you did not hear it.

In the end, Will Byers was fine, alive – back from the dead, as the newspaper reported it. The world went on spinning. The child Jim had been looking for had disappeared, and you were still pining for the man who seemed to not care less for anything in the world that wasn’t coffee or a cigarette. He went back to his life, solving petty feuds between farmers and teenagers, and you went back to telling Heather Gutmann that she couldn’t sleep in class.

Life went on. It was good.

But that was until you had a new student enter your class. It was a new year, after all, and new students came and went like the ebb and the flow of the tides. Last year, you had the young Maxine Mayfield enter your class, and now, the grade where the friends of her had gone to, there was another new face. She had curly hair pulled back with colourful clips, and looked at the class of ninth graders like they had extra teeth in their mouth.

Behind her, was Principle Coleman, and Chief Jim Hopper, of the Hawkins Police Department. She looks to you with wide eyes, silent. “Hello everyone! We have a new student to welcome to the class,” Principle Coleman tells the all-but rowdy class, “This is Jane Hopper, make her fe–,”

“I go by Elle,” she says, voice small, but big enough to interrupt Principle Coleman.

You smile, and approaching your new student, you point out a spare desk behind Dustin Henderson, beside Mike Wheeler. “Go on and take a seat, Elle. I’m sure we’re all going to enjoy having a new face to our cohort. Now, can you all turn to page three of your textbooks and start reading about ancient Egypt while I talk to Chief Hopper and Mr. Coleman…”

You steer the men from the classroom, and closing the door behind you, you turn to them. But Principle Coleman speaks first. “Jane has a sort of…learning problem. I hope you understand what this means as her teacher. She will need extra attention to become up to speed with the other children.” He goes to add something, but upon hearing another teacher paging him from up the hall, excuses himself, and goes to fix the uprising in room 3B.

You look to the Chief. “In what ways does Jane need extra attention?” you ask him, curious. “You know, as her teacher.”

He clears his throat, a blush staining those cheeks under the stubble. “She’s just never been to school before. I taught her the time, and how to read chapter books.”

“I see,” you hum, and glance through the glass panel in the door to see the class. Like you instructed, they’re reading from the text, some highlighting the lines, some taking notes, some doodling in the margins. “Are you free this afternoon for coffee?”

Jim’s cheeks darken again, but he coughs into his fist, diffusing the pigment. “Uh, yeah. I’ll organise Elle to go after school with the Wheelers.”

You smile. “Fantastic.”

But instead of taking you to a diner, you decided to make the coffee yourself, in the staff room. Perhaps it was because of your tight money belt, considering that all the things that had happened in Hawkins in the last two years had been troubling to you. Perhaps it was because you wanted to make sure this encounter was as strictly professional as it could. This was not a police investigation where Jim Hopper had you running around Hawkins like Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys. This was a teacher, talking to a parent, about their student/child. Professional.

But when Jim entered the staff room, still in his police uniform, hat off, hair tousled, why did it feel anything but? It was just a crush. Damn the rabbit hole. It was just an illusion.

He accepts your coffee, smiling into the cup at how you didn’t add cream or sugar. You both sit at the long table, notepaper, and pen before you, a bowl of nearly-rotting fruit further along. A beat passes between the pair of you, and then, clearing your throat, you begin the parent-teacher talk. “Elle – Jane,” you correct yourself, “She’s the child you were searching for last year, isn’t she?” Your voice is low, even though you’re alone, most of the teacher’s gone home for the night, and cleaners too. “Hopper?”

He nods. “I found her.” He smiles, “She’s been through hell, and she’s a hell of a kid,” he tells you. “Uh, what was she like in class today?”

You smile. “We’re still on the last topic, but from what I can see, she’s interacting well, taking notes along with the other students. Needs to work on raising her hand to talk, and getting a hall pass for the bathroom…” you pass a page of your notes him, and see him nodding along, and add, “I’m excited to see what Elle can achieve this year.”

Jim smiles, but it’s small, sad. “Not many people have been so positive about her,” he says. “I talked with Christopherson, and he wasn’t so thrilled with her. All but said she was a freak.” Jim’s eyebrows rise, and wiping a hand over his face, he adds, “She’s just a kid.”

You nod. “An amazing little girl who has done more for this town than anyone will ever know,” you tell him softly. “I know about what all of it was about,” you confide, “I put all the pieces together, it wasn’t the Russians,” you laugh softly, “It was monsters.”

He drinks the rest of his coffee like a bitter shot, agreeing.

“Elle is going to be fine,” you tell him, “She’s strong. She’s mastered the Demogorgon, and the Mind Flayer. She can defeat Middle School, no problems.” You move your hand across the table to take the notes back, but without noticing, your hands brush, the touch almost electric. A blush mottles your face, and taking your hand away, you go to apologise.

Jim shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says softly, “It’s okay.”

You know this is a parent-teacher talk. You know this is a professional, casual setting. But you’ve got to ask it. It’s been on your mind ever since Jim took you for questioning the third time after you gave your official statement.

“Why me?” you ask, voice low, soft. “You kept coming to me, again and again,” you say. “I know I’m your daughter’s teacher and this is out of line just thinking of it –,”

You don’t finish your sentence. Because he leans across the table, and silences your qualms with a soft kiss, his hand cradling the side of your face, and for a second, it’s all good. The worries and the horrors and the panic and the terrible, terrible shit that you and everyone else has gone through is liquefied, dripping away until it’s noting compared to what is happening, until there is no world, no Hawkins, just Jim, Jim and his stubble, Jim and his soft lips and the smell of coffee, cigarettes and a faint whiff of whiskey or cologne. You melt into his kiss, and by the time that you realise it’s happening, it isn’t, and you’re just two adults sitting at a table once again.

“Jim,” you whisper, “I – I thought I was going mad, I didn’t –,”

A history teacher who lived in a time that was greater than in the books? Maybe it wasn’t that history was terrible, but perhaps, that the greatest things to ever happen had already happened – to you, and to all the people around you in Hawkins. If poor young Alice fell into Wonderland by accident, and saw all the beautiful horrors of the fantasy world, it didn’t mean it wasn’t real, or that it wasn’t for those who hasn’t touched the abstract world of the Upside Down. It just was a secret world, a fantasy that proved that only the select few could see it. You. The children you taught, Jim Hopper. Little Elle.

Maybe life in 1984 would never live up to the epics. For everyone else.

Jim grins, his eyes meeting yours, “Didn’t you know? In Hawkins, we’re all mad here.”

[rippercerberus-blog]

Is that〈 PAUL WESLEY 〉lurking around New Orleans? No, it’s just〈 CERBERUS NOWAK 〉a 604 year old VAMPIRE who is a FREELANCE HACKER. I hear that HE is BISEXUAL and is WITTY & METHODICAL but also UNHINGED & COCKSURE and into LIGHT BONDAGE, POWER-PLAY but despise DROWNING, SENSORY DEPRIVATION. CERBERUS is affiliated with the FRENCH QUARTER CLAN. ( blue, 24, est, she/her )

Full Name: 

Thomas Preljubović/Cerberus Thomas Nowak

Aliases:

 The Albanian Slayer, Cerby, Jack, Thomas, Tommy.

Age:

 Twenty-Seven (physically), Six hundred and four (actual).

Date of birth: 

Unknown. Sometime during the 14th century.

Place of birth: 

Greece.

Zodiac sign: 

Dog

Species: 

Vampire

Race:

 Caucasian

Nationality: 

Greek/Serbian.

Gender: 

Cisgender male.

Sexuality:

 Bisexual, Polyromantic

Profession: 

Freelance hacker and escort

Originally born in 14th century Greece, under the name Thomas Preljubović, he was the son of caesar Gregorios Preljub, the Serbian governor of Thessaly and Irene a daughter of Stephen Uroš IV Dušan of Serbia and Helena of Bulgaria.

In modern times Therapists would label Thomas as a Class One Sociopath. The servants spent more time with Thomas more than his parents, teaching him the ways of those less fortunate all the while treating him as he should be treated, above them all. 

Thomas’ attitude could be described as bipolar, going from nicely calm to ragingly furious in a matter of seconds; often yelling and frightening the servants, and then going back to sweet and seemly innocent little boy. 

His ever-growing fits of emotion grew stronger as time went on and seemingly only got worse after the violent death of his father. Following his father’s death, Thomas’ claim to Thessaly was asserted by his mother Irene, but they were forced to flee to Serbia by the advance of Nikephoros II Orsini in 1356. Here Irene married Radoslav Hlapen, the ruler of Vodena, who took Thomas under his wing.

During the absence of Thessaly’s new ruler Simeon Uroš Palaiologos in Epirus in 1359, Hlapen invaded Thessaly, attempting to win it for his stepson. Although Simeon Uroš managed to contain the invasion, he was forced to cede Kastoria to Thomas and to marry him to his daughter Maria.

In 1366 Thomas was designated governor of Ioannina. His reign is reflected in most detail in the so-called Chronicle of Ioannina, which paints him as a cruel and capricious tyrant. 

Thomas seized various properties of the Church of Ioannina and awarded them to his Serbian retainers. In 1382 a new appointee to the local archbishopric, Matthew, was sent out from Constantinople, and invested Thomas with the title of despotes on behalf of the Byzantine Emperor John V Palaiologos.

Nevertheless, later Thomas quarreled with the archbishop and exiled him from Ioannina. He is also accused of persecuting the local nobility and thus inspired a series of revolts against his rule. In addition to seizing ecclesiastical and private property, Thomas established new taxes and monopolies on various commodities, including fish and fruit. In addition to relying on his military forces to enforce these imposts, Thomas ruthlessly waged continuous war against the Albanian clans and the rulers of Arta and Angelokastron.

Soon after taking possession of Ioannina, Thomas was unsuccessfully besieged by Albanian Peter Losha of Arta. Thomas managed to defeat an Albanian attack on Ioannina. Another attack, which came close to taking the city, but was repelled. Thomas then conquered many fortresses from his enemies in 1381 to 1384. These ruthless successes won him the epithet “Albanian-Slayer”.

However, Thomas had come to be on bad terms with his wife Maria, who participated in the subsequent conspiracy against him. On December 23, 1384, Thomas was murdered by his guards and the happy population of Ioannina swore allegiance to Maria and invited her brother John Uroš Doukas Palaiologos to come and advise her in the government. To this day, Thomas is still bitter over the subject of his ex-wife betraying him. Although, he is always quick to state that he never loved her anyway.

As Thomas lay dying in the street, blood pooling from the head injury and stab wounds he had sustained. A woman was standing in the shadows watching as he lay there barely clinging to the tendrils of life. The last thing he remembers is seeing fangs and immense pain in his neck.

When he woke up, he was in an unfamiliar home. Frightened beyond belief Thomas rushed out of the empty house, fully healed from whatever injuries took place. And just like that, the tyrannical Albanian-Slayer Thomas Preljubović was dead and Cerberus rose up from the ashes in his wake.

From that day on Cerberus lived as a nomad, never staying in one place for long and avoiding his sire like the plague. All along his life, he has sired a few vampires of his own. However, all of them had perished soon after he had become annoyed with them, or simply because he was bored of them.

In 1888 he settled down in London and his murderous streak continued around the Whitechapel district as Jack the Ripper. Once he had had his fun in London, Cerberus made his way across the United States, never learning the meaning of appreciating life, and other’s humanity, for he caused more trouble as the years bled on.

In 1910 he moved to New Orleans, Louisiana where his murderous streak continued under the alias of The Axeman before vanishing to Warsaw Poland in September 1919.

The sight of blood enamored him and he fell in love with the carnage and risks of war as he moved from city to city and country to country. Gleefully he partook in several wars including World War I, World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. With every war, it seemed that more and more of his humanity slowly started to fade along with his sanity.

Soon after the Vietnam War had ended, Cerberus ended up in Chicago, Illinois. However, his sire began making an appearance in his life again through letters. There was nothing overt or threatening about them but they sparked a sense of anger in him. Reluctant to slip back under his sire’s thumb, he ran off again, changing names and locations as soon as he felt that rug. The idea of confronting his sire left a bad taste in his mouth. For a time, he lived on the underground of Manhattan, New York making the abandoned subway tunnels below the city his domain amongst the filth and vermin.

Growing tired of constantly traveling and running, Cerberus decided to return to New Orleans on Christmas in the year 2016 where he still resides. He has worked a wide variety of jobs over the years -- EMT, bartender, escort, but finally settled on being a free-lance hacker and escort in the French Quarter.

HEADCANONS:

ONE: Due to the extensive psychological and physical damage he has suffered, Cerberus suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. He is not one person but three people in one body. With that being said each alter has his own distinct personality, with his own likes and dislikes. They each possess their own memories and identities thus leaving many to scratch their heads in the vampire’s presence. To the untrained individual it is hard to decipher which personality is out but over time it becomes apparent. However, the trouble lies in the fact that each personality cannot recall the memories or conversations that have taken place between the others. This often leaves Cerberus with fractured memories and often causes him to deny and or make up certain events. To combat this phenomenon he keeps an extensive series of journals on hand. His three alters are named Cerberus, Jack, and Thomas (Thomas was the original personality but Cerberus is the main alter).

TWO: Cerberus is a cannibal vampire, known to drain every drop of his victim’s blood from their body before devouring it all together. To be honest he’s not quite sure the reasoning behind the impulse. It would be easy to blame it on his apparent madness, but perhaps it was more of an extreme case of curiosity. Regardless, since having that first taste, Cerberus has developed something of a taste for supernatural blood. While human blood can still sustain his body and keep his cravings satisfied, he does indulge in hunting his own kind on occasion, feeding on the young and the helpless without killing and then compelling them to forget. He sees vampire blood as a delicacy, something to indulge in only on occasion. He is aware that other vampires might consider it taboo, however, so he keeps this habit to himself.

THREE: Cerberus considers himself to be Bisexual and Polyromantic.

FOUR: He has a crippling fear of large bodies of water/drowning. If asked he won’t exactly say why but the truth is he can’t swim.

[evangelinecullperformingart-blog]

Romeo and Juliet , Xmas Holiday Homework:

Social, cultural and historical context of the text and playwright

William Shakespeare was an English poet, playwright and actor. He has written approximately 38 plays, 154 sonnets and two long narrative poems’ including, “Romeo and Juliet”, “Othello”, “Macbeth”, “Hamlet”, “Julius Caesar” and much more.  His plays have even been translated into every major language because of his success. Shakespeare is regarded as the greatest writer in the English language, he is even called England’s national poet.

His plays were written in the Elizabethan era, so Queen Elizabeth was ruling England (1558-1603). “Romeo and Juliet” was written in 1597, during this time several historical events happened in the world. For example, England troops went to Amiens, Flemish painter Frederick of Valckenborch became porter of Frankfurt-on-Main and also there were a lot of deaths. For example,  a group of early Japanese Christians were killed by the new government of Japan for being seen as a threat to Japanese society, Lucas van Valckenborch, (a famous painter) died at the age of 61 and there were many more deaths which could have influenced Shakespeare’s ideas of so many characters’ in the play to dying.  There was also a plague in 1597, which is referenced in “Romeo and Juliet” when Friar John says he couldn’t deliver Friar Lawrence’s letter to Romeo because he was locked away hiding from the plague.

When “Romeo and Juliet was originally performed, to keep themselves entertained, the poor and the rich would gather in playhouses in the afternoon to see plays performed, often if you were going to see a play in the Elizabethan era, it would be one of Shakespeare’s. People would pay money to see the play but going to the playhouse was also seen as a social event where people would mingle with both sexes and many different social classes. There was a wide range of social and educational levels in Shakespeare’s audience, especially since many London brothels were nearby.

The theatre often served as a place for prostitutes and their customers. There were no toilet facilities in the theatres and people relieved themselves outside. Sewage was buried in pits or disposed of in the River Thames, (this could have been responsible for outbreaks of the plague). Audience’s talked during dull moments, and threw rotting vegetables, especially tomatoes at the actors if they weren’t impressed.

The vocal requirements and physical demands to be considered when interpreting the text and developing character’s for performance

The first performance of “Romeo and Juliet” was at the playhouse called the Theatre where Shakespeare and his cast worked. After the English Restoration, “Romeo and Juliet” was performed with elaborate scenery, dancing, thunder, lightning, wave machines and even fireworks. The original play would have been performed to 1500 people, in an octagonal shaped building with a thatched roof just around the perimeter so that the theatre was open air. Actors, even the ones playing Juliet were all male; originally it was illegal for females to go onto the stage. Shakespeare and his company the Lord Chamberlain’s Men would have originally performed in the Globe and Blackfriars Theatres. The actors would have performed in a melodramatic style, so the acting was emphasised and emotions would even be exaggerated.

The demands and requirements that each classical text places on a modern actor

Originally, actors would have worn clothes that reflect their character’s status/class, there were even laws controlling what actors could wear! Costumes were mainly the modern dress of the time; some actors playing smaller roles might have worn their own clothing. Companies would reuse costumes if they could like any theatre company would today. They took the theatre so seriously that they would spend around £300 monthly just on costumes, today that translates to £35,000! So the costumes helped the actors as they would help to emphasise their character’s social status. Makeup also helped the actors to perform their roles as it helped the audience to understand their character. A white face, red cheeks and a blonde wig turned a boy actor into a beautiful young woman.

Performance conditions:

Some theatres could hold up to 3000 audience members, stages would be covered in straw and the audience would stand on all three sides. Similar to today, the wall at the back of the stage had a door on both sides for entrances and exists. Above the stage was a trapdoor which was used to lower actors onto the stage and there was also a trapdoor on the stage itself for surprise entrances.

Some plays were performed in an outdoor playhouse meaning the actors had to be able to project their voices to a high standard due to the surrounding noises. Also, since audiences were so large, actors would have to exaggerate their gestures immensely to ensure that the far away audience could see them. Due to lack of technology, there wasn’t much set that actors would bring onto the stage, this is likely why Shakespeare included lots of dialogue about the weather and the environment a character was in. On their costumes, characters may have had to carry real swords and weapons for scenes and so they would have learned how to use them properly. Also, they would have only been able to perform at certain times in the day when the lighting suited the play and the scenes within it since their only source of lighting was natural lighting.

“Romeo and Juliet” cast list:

Escalus, prince of Verona

Paris, a young nobleman

Montague, Capulet, heads of warring households

Old man, cousin to Capulet

Romeo, son of Montague

Mercutio, kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo

Benvolio, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo

Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet

Friar Laurence, Friar John, Franciscans

Balthasar, servant to Romeo

Sampson, Gregory, servants to Capulet

Peter, servant to Juliet's nurse

Abraham, servant to Montague

An Apothecary

Three Musicians

Page to Paris; another Page; an Officer

Lady Montague, wife to Montague

Lady Capulet, wife to Capulet

Juliet, daughter to Capulet

Nurse to Juliet

Citizens of Verona; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants

Chorus

A synopsis of scenes

Act 1, Scene 1: Sampson and Gregory (Capulet family servants) get into a fight with Abram and Balthazar (from the Montague household). Benvolio appears and tries to end it but then Tybalt fights with him. The Prince then comes along and puts the fighting to a stop. Once the Princes and Capulets have exited the stage, the Montagues discuss Romeo's strange behaviour. Benvolio speaks to Romeo about this, Romeo says that he is in love so much with Rosaline and will never love another.

Act 1, scene 2: Paris wants Capulet to allow him to marry his daughter Juliet.  Capulet argues that his daughter is too young but if Paris can win her over then he will allow them to marry. Capulet gives his servant the guest list, Romeo and Benvolio pass by and Capulet's servant asks if they will help him. At this moment, Romeo notices that Rosaline's name is on the list and so he and Benvolio decide to go to the party in disguise because Romeo is so desperate to see Rosaline.

Act 1, scene 3: The nurse and Juliet speak about her childhood then lady Capulet tells Juliet about her father's plan for her marriage to Paris.

Act 1, scene 4: Romeo, Benvolio and Mercurio arrive at the party; Romeo says that he won't dance because he's too sad. Romeo expresses dark thoughts whilst Mercurio teases him.

Act 1, scene 5: Romeo notices Juliet and is taken back by her beauty. Tybalt recognises him and is angered by his presence but Capulet orders him to be peaceful as he doesn't want to be embarrassed at his own party. Love immediately blossoms as Romeo and Juliet kiss, Juliet is called to her mother and so Romeo learns who she is. This is when he learns that her family is his rival family. Juliet also learns this from the Nurse and is disappointed.

Act 2, scene 1: Romeo separated himself from his friends as they leave the party. His friends leave thinking that Romeo has gone looking for Rosaline.

Act 2, scene 2: Juliet appears at her balcony, Romeo is in the garden. Thinking that she is alone, she speaks of her love for Romeo, wishing that he wasn't a Montague. Romeo hears this and reveals himself, they exchange vows. Juliet is called away by the nurse but she explains to Romeo that she will send a messenger for him in the morning as they plan to get married. They then exchange living farewells.

Act 2, scene 3: Romeo goes to see Friar Lawrence and tells him of his new love for Juliet. He asked Friar Lawrence to help him marry Juliet, to which he agrees.

Act 2, scene 4: Juliet waits for her nurse, who she sent to meet Romeo. The nurse tells Juliet that Romeo is waiting at Friar Lawrence's cell to marry her. Romeo arrives and secretly goes to Juliet's bedroom.

Act 2, scene 5: Romeo and Friar Lawrence wait for Juliet to arrive at the cell. The lovers embrace and speak of their love and are then wed.

Act 3, scene 1: Benvolio and his men walk in the sun as they speak about fighting with Capulets. Tybalt sees Romeo and he wants him to draw his sword. Romeo doesn't want to (as he is now secretly married to Tybalt's cousin). Mercutio says that is Romeo won't fight Tybalt, and then he will! Tybalt stabs Mercutio, he dies as he curses both families. Romeo and Tybalt then fight, Romeo kills him.

Act 3, scene 2: The nurse tell Juliet of the fight, the nurse is so confused and upset that she makes it sound that Romeo is dead. Juliet thinks that Romeo has killed himself, the nurse moans about Tybalt death and then Juliet fears that both Romeo and Tybalt are dead. When everything is made clear, Juliet curses nature that it should put “the spirit of a fiend” in Romeo’s “sweet flesh” (3.2.81–82). The Nurse echoes Juliet and curses Romeo’s name, but Juliet denounces her for criticising her husband and adds that she regrets faulting him herself. Juliet is depressed by Romeo's banishment. The nurse says that she knows where Juliet is hiding and will take Juliet's ring to him.

Act 3, scene 3: The friar sets forth a plan: Romeo will visit Juliet that night, but make sure to leave her chamber, and Verona, before the morning. He will then stay in Mantua until news of their marriage can be spread. The Nurse hands Romeo the ring from Juliet, which makes him very happy. The Nurse goes, and Romeo says goodbye to Friar. He prepares to visit Juliet and then goes to Mantua.

Act 3, scene 4: Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris walk together. Capulet says that he's had no time to ask Juliet about her feelings for Paris. Lady Capulet states that she will know her daughter’s thoughts by the morning. Paris is about to leave when Capulet calls him back and makes what he calls “a desperate tender of my child’s love” (3.4.12–13). Capulet promises Paris that the wedding will happen.

Act 3, scene 5: Romeo leaves before morning. The nurse enters to tell Juliet that Lady Capulet is coming. Lady Capulet tells Juliet that she will marry Paris, Juliet is appalled. Capulet threatens to disown Juliet if she doesn't marry him. The nurse advises her to marry him, Juliet pretends to agree but in reality, she is disgusted. She goes to Friar Lawrence hoping he will help her.

Act 4, scene 1: in the cell, Paris encourages Friar Lawrence to make the marriage happen faster. Paris speaks affectionately to Juliet but she doesn't respond in any way. Once Paris has left, Juliet asks Friar Lawrence’s help, she says that she’d rather kill herself than marry Paris. Friar comes up with a plan: Juliet should agree to marry Paris, and then on the night before the wedding, she must drink a sleeping potion that will make her look dead. She will be put to rest in Capulets tomb, and then the Friar will send a letter to Romeo saying he must come get her and then they can run away to Mantua together. Juliet loves the plan and Friar gives her the potion.

Act 4, scene 2: Juliet goes home to find Capulet and Lady Capulet preparing for the Wedding. She tells her parents that she will agree to marry Paris. Capulet is so pleased that he insists on moving the wedding to Wednesday – tomorrow!

Act 4, scene 3: Alone in her Romeo Juliet thinks of the potion. She wonders what if the Friar is untrustworthy, she worries and then thinks what if Romeo is late for some reason, she could awake in the tomb and go mad with fear. She even has strange visions that Tybalt’s ghost is searching for Romeo. She then drinks the potion.

Act 4, scene 4-5: The next morning the nurse finds Juliet dead. Capulet and Lady Capulet show grief and sorrow when Paris hears the news he joins then in the lamentations. The Friar comforts them and says they should make plans for her funeral.

The musicians begin to pack up, Capulet’s servant asks them to play a happy tune, to ease his sorrows but they don’t agree. The musicians argue with the servant and then decide to stay to see if they will get any food.

Act 5, scenes 1-2: In Mantua, Romeo describes a wonderful dream that he had of Juliet. Balthasar enters and tells Romeo that Juliet has been found dead.  Romeo writes a letter to Montague and tells Balthasar that he will return to Verona that night. Romeo says that he will go to Juliet’s tomb and kill himself. He buys a bottle of poison to do this.

Friar Lawrence speaks to Friar John who was supposed to send a letter to Romeo telling him of the plan. Friar John says that the letter didn’t get delivered because he was shut up in a house, hiding away from the plague.  Friar Lawrence worries because he knows that if Romeo doesn’t know about Juliet’s false death, then there will be no one to take her away from the tomb when she awakes. Friar Lawrence decides that he will have to rescue Juliet from the tomb alone. He sends another letter to Romeo to warn him about what’s happened and plans to keep Juliet in the cell before Romeo arrives.

Act 5, scene 3: Paris scatters flowers on Juliet’s grave, he then goes. Romeo enters with Balthasar, he tells Balthasar that he was come to open Capulets tomb to get a valuable ring that he gave to Juliet. He orders Balthasar to leave and in the morning to deliver the letter to the Montagues.  Balthasar secretly doesn’t leave but watches what his master Romeo is doing.

Paris recognises Romeo as the man who murdered Tybalt and the man who murdered Juliet (supposing that she died because of her grief over Tybalt’s death). Thinking of this, Paris sees Romeo and they fight. Romeo ends up killing Paris, as he dies; he asks to be laid next to Juliet’s body. Romeo walks over to Juliet thinking that she is dead. He kisses her and speaks of her beauty, then kisses her again. Romeo takes to poison and dies. Just after this, Friar Lawrence walks into the tomb where he sees the body of Paris and Romeo, as he takes in the bloody scene, Juliet awakes. Juliet asks where Romeo is and they Friar fearfully tells her that they are dead. He tells Juliet to leave with him but she refuses and he goes without her.  At this moment, Juliet realises that Romeo has taken poison. Juliet takes Romeo’s dagger and stabs herself; she then dies upon his body. The Prince and Capulets enter and discover the bodies. Friar Lawrence then tells them the story of Romeo’s and Juliet’s secret marriage. Balthasar gives the Prince the letter Romeo had previously written to his father which confirms the Friar’s story. After all the chaos, Capulet and Montague clasp hands and agree to put their hatred behind them. Montague says that he will build a golden statue of Juliet, and Capulet insists that he will raise Romeo’s likeness in gold beside hers.

Bibliography:

http://www.shakespearesglobe.com/uploads/files/2014/01/costumes_cosmetics.pdf

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHoaPLO6Zd8

http://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/romeojuliet/characters.html

https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/r/romeo-and-juliet/character-list

https://www.rsc.org.uk/romeo-and-juliet/past-productions/stage-history

https://www.rsc.org.uk/shakespeares-life-and-times/performing-shakespeare-in-the-17th-century

https://www.tes.com/teaching-resource/elizabethan-theatre-original-performance-conditions-edexcel-unit-4-11007164

http://www.shakespearesglobe.com/uploads/files/2014/01/costumes_cosmetics.pdf

http://www.biography.com/people/william-shakespeare-9480323

https://www.rsc.org.uk/shakespeares-life-and-times

http://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/romeojuliet/section16.rhtml

https://www.rsc.org.uk/shakespeares-life-and-times/performing-shakespeare-in-the-17th-century

http://keepcalmandcrossbounderies.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/shakespeare-original-performance.html

[brachylagus-fandom]

12 Days of WIPmas - Day 11

Not in Our Stars (but in Ourselves), a 39 Clues/Hunger Games fusion

basically Catching Fire with the addition of Cahills. First chapter under the cut.

District Eight

The Reading of the Card happens on a Tuesday. Amy spends the morning clearing out Grace's attic trying not to think about it; since Katniss and Peeta were crowned, she and Woof and Cecilia have taken long walks through noisy parts of town (always with a reason - to pick up fat quarters or yarn or food or Cecilia's kids from school or Dan, not infrequently, from Peacekeeper custody) and quietly speculated at length about what the twist could be. (Woof had suggested forbidding volunteering in order to rig the reapings as much as possible - the Starling brothers, both severely injured in Games-losing ways, are eighteen, and Katniss has a thirteen-year-old sister, and fourteen, which Dan turned five months ago, has never been a good age for Cahills. Cecilia, scoffing at the Capitol endangering their beloved Career districts, thinks they'll change the age range. Amy suspects they'll do reapings in proportion to how many rebels each district had - get Dan and Prim and Ned and Ted and whoever else a rebel loves who’s of reaping age in one fell swoop.) She's sick of dreading it; she'd rather sort through the rest of Grace's library and relish six months outside of the Capitol since apparently they think she should use the time post-drawing to get extra sponsor pledges. 

Eight's victors decide to watch the Reading apart. (They used to do this at Grace's house, Amy knows from Woof's half-finished tatting projects bur- hidden in the couch cushions next to a forgotten earring of Cecilia's and notes in Hope's handwriting. She likes to picture them like that, crowded around the screen together, safe and healthy and alive.) When the sun starts to set, Amy goes back to her house, sets out dinner for Saladin, makes herself a cup of tea, and waits for Dan to come home. All of the factories were on half-shifts today because of the mandatory television (and because they're trying to crack down on the weavers by cutting their hours as deeply as possible), so he technically should have been home by four at the latest, but Amy would be entirely unsurprised if he's out painting mockingjays on burned warehouses or bleaching them onto Capitol fashion set to be shipped. (Wouldn't be surprised if the Peacekeepers shot him for it, either; Snow would think that a fitting punishment for her six months of freedom and what her district's just done.)

Five minutes before the broadcast is set to begin, long after sunset, Dan comes in, barely stopping to stomp the snow off his boots. There are fresh bruises on his knuckles. Amy hopes he isn't getting into fistfights with Peacekeepers.

"Where were you?" Amy asks. "There weren't any afterschool shifts today." Dan shrugs.

"Studying with Atticus and Lowell," he says. "They're stressed about the big text coming up, not sure they'll make seventy-fives." The weavers are getting antsy, he means. It's not surprising - things have been heating up ever since the last Games but Amy still tries not to think too hard about it. The last time the weavers got antsy - not counting last month, which ended with three bombed factories and fourteen executions and countless whippings, because last month was miniscule as far as riots in Eight go - was nine years ago, right after the "house fire" that killed her parents, and it ended with three executions for treason and four months of missed tesserae and twelve tributes, too young and totally doomed, who worked in the mills. (Thirteen, if you count Amy herself, but she'd worked inventory - bobbins in, bolts out - not on the floor. She hadn't been a mill girl, not really. Not in the way Hope had been, and especially not in the way Grace had been.)

"Well, just be careful where you… study," Amy says. "The weather's getting rough out there." Don't get caught running messages, she means. I can't lose you, too. Not for something that's partially my fault. Dan grunts an acknowledgement.

"What's on tonight?" he asks.

"Supposed to be the Reading of the Card," she says. "Cecilia and Woof say it's past time, actually." On their screen, the seal of Panem is replaced by Katniss modeling wedding dresses, which Dan scowls at.

Two years ago, he would've mocked the dresses - loudly, to Atticus' and Lowell's and Calico's laughing agreement - and mocked Amy's feeble comments in their defense. Two years ago, they spoke more than a handful of words to each other on any given day, even if most of those words were arguments. A year and a half ago, Amy went to the Capitol as a little girl with a jade necklace - a legacy tribute, sure, but still a child entirely naive to how the Games were really played - and she came home with Ian's blood caking the dirt under her nails and his words rattling around in her skull. (Silly girl, he'd called her, thinking you'll ever esc- and then she stabbed him and pushed him down to the mutts below, and he'd buried her alive but he hadn't deserved that, and she still sometimes wonders if he didn't really mean to win at all, if he was warning her of what was to come.) She came home, smiling and with clean hands (literally, not metaphorically) and deeply claustrophobic, to a brother who was quiet and furious and blank-faced. Sometimes, she thinks she lost him that year; if she didn't, she'll lose him (metaphorically, and maybe literally) when they go to the Capitol together, him as tribute and her as his mentor.

Caesar reminds Capitol citizens to vote for their favorite wedding dress - "something red to match Peeta," Dan mutters under his breath because Calico had been his friend before she had been Amy's first lost tribute - and then the screen transitions to the Viewing Room at Snow's mansion. The opening notes of the anthem play again. A small boy walks in with an ornate box filled with envelopes, each labeled with a games year. One marked 75 is drawn, and the slip within is pulled out.

"On the 75th anniversary," President Snow reads slowly, "as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

That's… unexpected. Unprecedented. Terrifying. (Silly girl, Ian said, thinking you could ever escape, and Amy had killed him and come out with blood and dirt under her nails but she never really left and has spent the past two years bargaining for Dan's life with her body as currency with people who fundamentally do not care. She didn't escape. He did.) Subconsciously, Amy can feel the walls of the den closing in, trapping her, cutting off her air supply as Evan just sobs and sobs and sobs somewhere behind her, and then he goes quiet and a cannon goes off and she won't know it's not his until that night's deaths go up and she can't waste time trying to get to him when she has to dig herself out… Dan, swearing, storms out of the house, towards town (towards trouble), and Amy is back in the present, with a yellow and red quilt Cecilia made around her shoulders and nothing under her nails. The television has shifted to Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith guessing which victors will go in again; given that only five districts have at least two male and two female victors, it's not hard.

She has to go in again. (She never left.) Amy has so much less left to lose than Cecilia, and she's in better shape, more likely to win. (And, when she inevitably falls on a One tribute's spear, Cecilia has decades of mentoring experience; she's more likely to get their tributes - get Dan - out come next year.) They can get everything else they need out of Grace's house before the Reaping, stash it in a third-party location, and have Dan memorize it. They should do it anyways, just in case the Peacekeepers revoke access.

The day of the Reaping, Amy puts on her Reaping dress from two years ago and Grace's favorite jade necklace - her token, then and now - and shoes she can run in. She buries District Eight dirt as deep under her perfectly painted nails as she can get it. Dan, who's wrangled himself into a pure black suit of his own accord, doesn't mention the oddity if he notices it at all. He's been saying less and being out more than ever since the card was read; Amy doesn't ask where he's been or what he's been doing anymore. (She knows. She put him up to at least twenty percent of it.) Dissuading him is a lost cause, and the bugs in the house really shouldn't catch it if he chooses to tell her.

Dan stays by her side once she enters the pen and holds her hand like he's one of Cecilia's kids; Amy clutches his back. Antonius, after digging around for a moment, calls Cecilia's name, and she walks forwards, her kids still stubbornly holding onto her dress; the camera on the roof of the Peacekeeper's barracks catches every tear rolling down her face in HD, to be transmitted live back to the Capitol for its citizens to coo at. At the base of the Justice Building's stairs, Cecilia's husband takes the two younger children in his arms, leaving Cecilia to try to persuade only the eldest to follow him back with a few soft whispers before Peacekeepers force them apart.

Amy doesn't have to do anything. If she chickens out now, no one will know, and Eight might have a snowball's chance in hell of winning.

But - silly girl, thinking you could ever escape this. Amy came out of the arena, but she never left, never got all the blood and dirt out from under her nails, and now it's calling her back. Quickly, sharply enough that the cameras don't see, Amy takes her hand out of Dan's grip and steps forwards.

"I volunteer!" Antonius gapes at her. Cecilia sobs in relief. "I, Amy Cahill, volunteer as tribute." Antonius nods, gulps, announces her again. He's afraid for once. He should be; the crowd in the square is a powder keg of weavers who have mourned two Cahill girls already and rioters from six months ago who didn't get caught, and Amy's throwing out sparks.

It feels good to be the fire and not the cloth, for once.

Before visitation hour starts, the square erupts, and Eight's victors are hustled onto the train and out of the district as the square burns behind them. Amy, all the Eight she can have around her, only hopes Cecilia's husband and the kids made it out in time. She knows Dan probably didn't. (She knows Dan probably had a part in starting it.)

***

District Six

When the card is read, District Six's Victor's Village is eerily silent. It always is; its designers soundproofed every inch of it and placed it so far from the Hub that you can't even hear the trains. (Nellie misses the noise; she lived right under Track Five growing up, so the only time before her Games that there wasn't a train thudding overhead was the night before every Reaping.) As the closing notes of the anthem play and commentators come on, Nellie looks at the glass of vodka in her hand and debates flinging it at the screen to make Claudius Templesmith's face shatter.

She decides against it. Barely.

She needs to talk to Erasmus. The games this year were always going to be a mess, and they planned to disrupt them as much as possible, but this twist changes things. Disrupting a Victor's games will be easy. You have the lovers from District Twelve and either the mother or the legacy from District Eight, plus a variety of everyone's favorites from elsewhere. They can make this unpopular with ease. The only real problem will be getting them all out, since virtually everyone will either be in the games or mentoring them.

The morning of the reaping, Nellie doesn't dress up. She spikes her (recently redyed) hair up more than usual, but she wears the same grunge she always does; it's her style, and it got her through her first reaping just fine. When her name is called, she is thoroughly unsurprised that Rosie doesn't volunteer; she's pretty sure Rosie didn't even notice. (Ford certainly doesn't when his name is called. Nellie dreads what their pre-Games detox will look like.)

They have a brief visitation, Nellie's parents hug her and take most of her piercing jewelry (at least a quarter of which will be missing if she comes home), Erasmus glares down the peacekeepers to hug her tightly and whisper that there's a plan to get her out, yadda yadda, she's been through this before and it was just as forgettable the first time. The train speeds out of Six quickly, its wheels thudding along the track. Nellie can tell by the sound they're on a hyperspeed, duoblock wheels with front right starting to get fatigued. The sound lulls her to sleep.

***

District Five

Irina knows she's going back in; District Five's only two living victors are Edison, winner of the Forty-Ninth Hunger Games, and her, winner of the Twenty-Fifth. Most of her competitors had been picked because no one wanted them around, because they were a drain on resources, because they were hated; Irina had been all of those things, but she had also been chosen because people thought she stood the faintest, slimmest chance of winning.

She doesn't now. She's kept in shape since her win - she has too much time on her hands, so she might as well spend it doing endless pole vaults and gymnastics routines - but she knows the age breakdown of the victors, and she is one of the oldest left. She'll be speared through by some well-trained twentysomething from a Career district, and that will be that. This time, she has just as much of a chance as most of her tributes do (as Nikolai did), and she doesn't waste time trying to deny it.

She comes up when her name is called (after Flavinius spends a good minute and a half rooting around inside the ball for her slip, which is at least amusing even if it means nothing) and looks directly at the camera they plant dead center at the back of the square. She does not smile, or shiver, or cry, or react at all. She just stares into its dark lens until the cameraman turns away and whispers "as it began, and so it ends" under her breath. Edison staggers up next to her. She's not surprised she can smell the alcohol on his breath from two feet away; he's always been a less-than-functional alcoholic, even before he went into an arena swarming with insects and came out screaming.

They do not do visitation; there is no one to visit them. Edison has never had anyone, and Irina's husband is gone, and Nikolai… Nikolai is gone, too. (Irina just needs to block out why.)

***

District Three

Sinead can't return to the arena. Her brothers need her Victor's stipend; since the accident, Ned can only spend a few days a week in the workshop before the noise and the smell of burnt solder set off his migraines, and no one will hire Ted at all, not even for assembly work. If they were on their own, they couldn't survive, and all three of them know it.

So, on Reaping Day, Sinead stands in the pen with shaking and sweaty hands skating off her vinyl skirt; her stylist says it's in this year, and she needs to earn as many sponsors as possible however she can whether she's in or out of the arena. It's funny; the year of the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games, she hadn't been nervous at all. Not with the crush of bodies in front of her to pad the probabilities and her brothers, leaning over their side of the cordon, beside her and so many Personal Efficiency credits on her side to balance out the tesserae they and everyone else they knew took out. Now, there are only two slips in a much smaller bowl - their tesserae haven't carried over, it seems - and a sickly sense of dread in her stomach.

Sinead doesn't cry when Wiress' name is called, but it's a close thing. It's not that she doesn't like Wiress - the woman got her out of the arena basically sane, and they work well together in the games and on technological projects - but she just can't afford to go back in again and lose - her brothers can't afford to lose her - she's going to lose Wiress, and it's going to hurt so, so much -

Then Alistair's name is read, and it's like a punch to the gut. Logically, Sinead knows the two events are independent - both of them had a one-in-two chance of being called - but it still feels like they should've gone in together if they went in at all. Alistair was there when her parents died and they had been too young to take out tesserae or get work; Alistair had been there to put her back together after she was crowned; Alistair was there when the battery factory exploded and through the months of painful recovery it had entailed for all of them; Alistair isn't going to be there for anything else, because Alistair's not getting out of this.

Not unless she does something about it.

***

District Two

Hamilton knows he isn't going back in. He knows the other victors have his back. He's barely out, not even cleared yet to mentor; his burn scars are still soft and fresh from a fourth round of half-successful remake. He's still woken up most nights by dreams of gasoline and fire and blood and the sensation of brain dripping on his fingers; the night before Peeta proposed, he nearly strangled Reagan when she tried to wake him up from a nightmare.

Reagan, who fights Madison almost daily over who'll get to volunteer the year they turn eighteen. Dad, trying not to look bitter at the honor he was denied, appeases them by saying one of them can try for a spot at seventeen like Enobaria; this only mutates the argument, which turns into a fistfight at the dinner table that Hamilton is left to break up as his parents smile. (He loves his family, he really does, but if Brutus' couch wasn't covered in wood shavings, he'd be staying there in a heartbeat.)

So, when Hamilton Holt is called forwards, he isn't worried about killing people again. (He knew what he was doing, knew what would happen when he set that trap, but that didn't mean he was prepared to watch a thirteen-year-old burn alive until Satin could shoot her.)  He knows the others will volunteer in his place; that's simply how it's done in Two. The female victors had a frenzy when Boudicca was called, and Enobaria won, no surprise about that. Until the crowd is eerily silent, and Brutus - his mentor - is stone-faced and shameful, and his scars itch in the summer heat and there's a sea of victors in front of him but none of them move a muscle and Hamilton realizes there's been a conversation he was left out of.

Goddammit.

His family raves during visitation about the honor he's been given. His father, the front-runner for the Forty-First Games before he was kicked out of the Program for the Promotion of Athleticism (allegations of unauthorized steroids, which Dad admits to, and rumors of grandad committing treason, which he claims were entirely fake, that followed Hamilton in ugly whispers from teachers and jealous peers alike) is eager to have a son who will win the games twice (any other option is unthinkable), and his sisters are eager to watch, but Reagan is shaky and pale. Hamilton thinks she's finally figured out what will happen if he doesn't win. Especially after Cato's epic non-win last year, which was broadcast live to District Two's schools.

Brutus, his mentor a second time around, is a stone wall on the train ride up. Hamilton doesn't do anything to assuage his guilt; it's his fault they're both in this mess again. He absentmindedly scratches at his scars; they haven't itched this much since the second round of remake.

Hamilton Holt is from the safest district in Panem, has already won the games once with tricks and fire and pure, brutal violence, and he's been reaped for the first time in his life.

Goddammit.

***

District One 

Jonah knew from the second the card was read that he was going back. He's young enough to still have a chance to bring his district glory; he's new enough that the sponsors haven't really fallen in love with him yet and won't care if he dies. (Jonah's fan's are a bit young for the big bucks, anyways - the markets pull in more money than a hundred concerts ever will - and he knew that when he made his talent music that he aggressively targeted to the tween market, had made that choice deliberately just as he had made his kills as personal and bloody and nonsensual as possible, and he doesn't really regret keeping as much of himself his even if it works less every passing year and even if this is what it led to.) The next morning, he gets a training plan from Victor's Affairs, supplements to help him bulk up muscle he's since lost to suit fashion whims and review on weapons he hasn't held in the six and a half years since his win. 

His family doesn't visit him after he volunteers. He doesn't expect them to; he hasn't seen Broderick since before he started training full-time, Laila is keeping Phoenix as far from the Career program and her sister as possible (which, frankly, good for her), and Cora… he's always known his mother's love is fleeting. The last time he talked to her was when he got pulled out, needing immediate surgery to stabilize his leg and half-delirious from pain, and she called him a disgrace - for getting injured, for not playing it sexy, for mercy killing Fourth Place instead of dragging it out - and she's never walked back comments like that. The person who does visit him is Natalie Kabra, sister of the Seventy-Third's male tribute, who placed second after being mauled by mutts. She's seventeen still, a year shy of the arena, but already gunning for the top spot if the trainers' reports are anything to go by. (Also halfway to completely batshit crazy if the psychologists' reports are anything to go by, but that's not exactly a disqualifier in the Hunger Games.)

"Avenge him," Natalie says. "Kill her." Jonah nods; he knows Amy Cahill's odds of leaving the arena alive, and they aren't high. He won't even have to kill her himself.

[ecotone99]

[RF] The Mask We Wear. (Please give feedback)

Growing up, I was always appreciated. Never once was I told I wasn't good enough, or that I wouldn't amount to anything. My parents weren't like that, my father was a pastor and my mother stayed at home raising us kids. They always looked after us, did what was best for us. And back when we didn't have much family was all we had, sounds a little cliche but it's true. And you would do anything for your family.

August 2013

"Antony, come hear," those few words changed my life forever. My father was the type of man who liked to keep his cards close to his chest, never telling anyone anything if he didn't have to. My mother was the only exception to that rule, but the rest of us knew what was really going on. Me and my brother pretended like we didn't, but we did. When he called me over I didn't know if I was getting disowned or rewarded, and that was how he liked to have it. "Antony, me and your mother have been talking and..." the way my father spoke is how I always imagined someone like Caesar talking, a voice of confidence and control that just made you not just want to listen to him, but like you had no choice but to listen to him. "We both think it's time you start helping me down at the church." Now to a normal sixteen-year-old boy, spending their after school time in an old church may not sound like all that much fun. But to me, it was a dream come true, I would get paid to hang out with my dad and I would finally be let into the family business. Little did I know what a rude awakening I was in for down the line. After all, not everyone's father was the head of a major New York crime family.

February 2014

By this time the screams and muffled gunshots coming from the back of the church had become less than a mild bother, most of the time I didn't even realize they were there. In a world like this one with violence and death on a daily basis, you had to grow a spine real quick. My father had me keeping the books, making sure that the real one and the one the cops would get if they ever ask were consistent enough to not seem suspicious. I was always good at math, a skill that the rest of my family didn't share. So while my brother Romulus was being groomed to take over the business someday; all intimidation and muscle, I was becoming a cheap teenaged accountant. And as hard as it may be to believe I was actually fine with where I was, unlike most people in the crime family, I didn't have ambitions. I didn't want to be in charge, I didn't need to be. I got to stay in my small room in the back of the church with a desk and a lamp, all that I needed.

March 2019

Flash forward five years. Five years of me doing the exact same thing, crunching numbers and putting them in the books. The family was stable, it wasn't what it was but we were doing alright. But that all changed when it came time for my father to name his successor, he didn't give the seat to my brother, who he had been raising into the kind of leader he was… no, he said my name. All and all I was surprised, honoured, but surprised. And when I asked him why he chose me over my brother, he told me, "I don't want another tough brute running this family Antony, we've had enough of that and now they way we make our living is going extinct." He wanted someone smart to help run the family back into its prime, and he chose me to do it. I couldn't just say no, I wanted to but men like my father didn't accept no. So if I couldn't get out of it I would just have to do what he wanted, and I would have to do it the best I possibly could. I respected my father too much to half-ass a job he entrusted me with, even if it was one I didn't want.

My brother wasn't too pleased with my father's choice. And I couldn't really blame him, imagine that your entire life, you believed that you had something as a sure thing and then when the moment finally comes it's given to someone else. He felt betrayed, and when our father wasn't around he made sure I knew it, "you scrawny mother fucker, I don't know how you did this but I'm going-." But as soon as dad was back in the room, he went back to being the voiceless thug he actually was, "You're doing the family proud, Antony." He didn't have to like Dads decision, but there was absolutely no way he could question it, not if he wanted to stay in the family. And once he was out of the family he lost all protections, and you don't do the kind of business he's done without making a few enemies. It sounds cliche but it's true.

It only took a few months after the announcement that I would be the new Boss for my father to decide that it was time for him to retire. One hand I agreed with him, he was getting older and he didn't need the kind of stress that came with the job. On the other hand, him retiring meant I would have to take over sooner than I was expecting. I thought I would have enough time to prepare myself, I wasn't ready to run the family yet. I always thought my dad would die before giving up his seat, that's just the kind of man he was, he would give everything he had. But he decided to give it up while he was still breathing, and I wasn't quite sure what to do with that, but I didn't have to think about it long.

They got me when I was walking home from the church. I should have been safe. But no, one minute you're walking down the street, the next you're chloroformed and thrown in the back of a van. The next thing I remember is waking up in the cliche mob torture warehouse tied to a chair. I mean this place had it all, broken windows, in the middle of nowhere, lots of floor space, the works. At first, I was alone, it's a technique that lets the victim realize the gravity of the situation, let their fear build up. But it didn't really bother me, when my kidnappers finally decided to show themselves, I was entirely disappointed. The pair, a man and a woman, were wearing these weird anime masks with blank smiling expressions. If they were wearing masks that meant I was going home alive and that they would be hunted down like dogs. "Hello, Mr Blackwell," the woman, talked first, calm, clearly a professional. Fortunately for myself, being the son of a crime boss made being kidnapped a real possibility growing up, and learning not to be afraid of stuff like this was just a part of it. My father would have me kidnapped a couple of times a year, just for a situation like this one. "You are going to give up your seat as the head of the Blackwell family and pass it down to your brother." You have no idea how much I wanted to give it up, just to get out of this damp warehouse if nothing else. But my father was the God of his own little world, and if you disappointed him it didn't matter how much he loved you, he would smite you.

"And why would I do that."

"Because if you don't, we'll carve your face up so good your own mother won't be able to recognise you," I had heard of this lady before, The Plastic Surgeon. She could make anyone's reflection a grotesque stranger if they didn't do what her client wanted, only ever touching the face, she wouldn't lay a finger on anything else. And now it seemed like it was my turn under her knife. "So… whats is going to be kid?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no." And that's when I got the first of many punches. I'm pretty sure she broke my nose, not that it matters in the grand scheme of things.

"Alright, that was your one and only chance. I don't care if in five minutes you cry out for me to stop, there are no second chances with me." And that's when the beatings began, up until she said the words that really made me nervous, "go get the belt sander." Over the next six months, she would take various sharp objects, from screws to sandpaper and shove them in my face, stabbing, slicing, and grinding away at my identity. She was actually quite inventive, something I could respect. Eventually, I couldn't even feel it anymore, it just became the only constant thing I had to look forward to.

"Hahahaha!," it was a little scary, "hahaha! C'mon, is that the best you got? You didn't even scrape bone this time." The pain became my life, and why not try to enjoy it more than the masochist torturing me? Near the end, I'm pretty sure I had felt all the pain The Plastic Surgeon could deal out. But eventually, every party must end. “I'll admit you're tough for someone who looks so fragile,” at this point, I couldn't even talk, the skin of my face was more like a mask in itself, hanging on by a few threads. "But I'm afraid it's now time for our parting gift,” and that’s when she wheeled out the acid. You would think that your flesh burning, melting back in place would be my wake up call, but I was just happy to feel again. They dropped me off in the bad part of town, in nothing but a blanket and one of their masks to cover myself and keep my face in place. Some people at this point would have given up, no clothes, no face, a family who thinks your most likely dead. I had basically nothing… Except for a plan.

“And now, we find ourselves at the end result of that plan,” in the empty, dimly lit restaurant the Blackwell crime family's dinner of twelve was interrupted by an unexpected thirteenth guest. Wearing the most audacious suit he could find: a bright red jacket and neon green pants, and the same mask his kidnappers left him with. His voice was flamboyant and excited The masks solid expression surveyed the room, looking at his captive audience. Every member at the table was bound and gagged, completely at the mercy of the prodigal son returned. “I mean it wasn't a hard leap for me to figure out that it was my own brother who hired The Plastic Surgeon. Who else would have wanted me out of the picture?” he stopped in front of a young man, sitting at the table, with fear in his eyes. “Just admit it,” he said pulling the tape off his brother's mouth. He was breathing heavily, sweat starting to form on his brow,

"Alright Antony, I'm sorry-"

“Oh wait, It doesn't really matter if you confess or not,” with that he cut the young man's throat, blood falling from his neck and into the young man's dinner as he struggled to breathe, drowning in his own blood. "But the plan doesn't stop there… after those long months in the warehouse, I thought I had gone insane. But then I realized, insanity is just a different form of clarity. And believe me, I am just starting to see things much more clearly. As soon as I figured out it was Romulus I knew I was going to kill him, I just had to figure out where and when. Lucky for me the annual family meeting was coming up, and even though I never attended one, I did all the books, so your "secret" meeting place," he said making air quotes with his hands, still holding the bloody knife, "was always just that old Italian restaurant dad used to take me to." As he talked he walked around the table, "next I needed to hire some muscle, fortunately, the family has no shortage of people they've pissed off." With a snap of his fingers, four men with gas tanks emerged from the shadows.

"Now," he said addressing his father at the head of the table, "in a mobster movie, this would be the time that I say that this is just business, nothing personal… but," he lifts his mask to reveal the grotesque, scared, sliced, burned, and melted collection of flesh he had for a face. "This is extremely personal," on his command the men started pouring the gasoline on the members of the family. He pulled a matchbook from his pocket, tossing it from one hand to another, "now dad, I really don't want to do this, like I said… you were always nice to me. The best father I could have asked for," he takes a match from the matchbook. Lighting it, the match reflected off of the plastic, his plastic mask glowing in the firelight, “but this isn’t about me,” he drops the match and the entire table is set ablaze, the muffled screams of the other men echo throughout the room, his father just stared at him, his expression unreadable as he burned, “I’m sorry dad, but something happened in that warehouse. I didn't want this job at first, but the more they tortured me, told me to give it up the more I wanted to hold onto it. So that's what I'm going to do, make your dream come true, bring this family into the future better than it ever was… bu In order to do that I need a fresh start, the old way, your ways nearly destroyed our way of life, so I'm taking all the old pieces of the board. And we both know that the best way to clear the board is the best way to deal with anything… burn it down.”

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