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papermoonloveslucy · 1 year ago

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Lucy in Beverly Hills

Part 1 ~ The Cast

Although thematically the shows created by Lucille Ball were worlds apart from the down-home humor at the Clampett Mansion, there were artistic and creative commonalities that are worth discussing.

"The Beverly Hillbillies" ran from 1962 to 1971, while "The Lucy Show" ran from 1962 to 1968, both on CBS TV. Interiors were filmed at General Service Studios, where "I Love Lucy" began filming until it moved to larger quarters.

Like Jed Clampett, Lucy Carmichael and Lucy Carter are single parents, raising teenage girls, a popular trope of the 1960s and '70s.

The Desilu sitcoms "I Love Lucy," "Make Room for Daddy," "The Andy Griffith Show," and "Gomer Pyle USMC" are all related shows with characters in common much in the same way the Henning sitocms, "The Beverly Hillbillies," "Petticoat Junction" and "Green Acres" were related. Interestingly, "The Beverly Hillbillies" was mentioned during two episodes of "The Danny Thomas Show", in 1963 and 1964.

Jed Clampett's fortune is made from striking oil. In the 1960 Broadway musical, Lucille Ball played a wildcatter looking to find black gold. On "I Love Lucy," new neighbors the O'Briens move from Texas, where they made their fortune in oil. Soon the Ricardos and Mertzes have dreams of riches from Texas tea.

Animal trainers Frank and Juanita Inn worked on both shows, as well as on "Here's Lucy."

Both shows went from black and white to color in October 1965. Although "The Lucy Show" had filmed its second season in color (1963-1964), CBS declined to air it in color.

Editor Dann Cahn (1963 to 1964), was also an editor for "I Love Lucy" and many Desilu shows.

Shared Casting

Their “Beverly Hillbillies” characters are in parentheses, followed by their Lucycom / Desilu credits.

Irene Ryan (Granny) performed with Lucille Ball on a May 3, 1949 episode of "The Bob Hope Radio Show." In 1963, Ryan and Ball both appeared on CBS specials featuring their TV shows.

Buddy Ebsen (Jed Clampett) appeared in a 1958 episode of "The Westinghouse-Desilu Playhouse" introduced by Desi Arnaz. He appeared with Lucille Ball on several CBS specials and numerous award shows.

Donna Douglas (Ellie Mae Clampett) performed in a 1960 episode of Desilu's helicopter series "Whirlybirds." She was seen with Lucille Ball on a 1963 CBS special "The Stars' Address".

Max Baer Jr. (Jethro Clampett) was seen with Lucille Ball on a 1963 CBS special "The Stars' Address".

Raymond Bailey (Millburn Drysdale) never acted opposite Lucille Ball, but was seen in episodes of Desilu's "The Whirlybirds," "The Untouchables," "The Ann Sothern Show" and "Westinghouse-Desilu Playhouse" introduced by Desi Arnaz.

The bankers of "The Lucy Show" (Theodore J. Mooney) and "The Beverly Hillbillies" (Millburn Drysdale) were remarkably similar: loud, quick-tempered, miserly, abusive to their secretaries, and willing to grovel and sacrifice their dignity to land a big account.

Stretch (Duke) the Clampett's lethargic bulldog, also played Thunderbolt on "Kiddie Parties, Inc." (1963) on "The Lucy Show." Stretch was one of Frank Inn's biggest stars.

Nancy Kulp (Miss Jane Hathaway) played the Cockney maid who teaches Lucy Ricardo ow to curtsy in "Lucy Meets the Queen" (1955). She also appeared in the Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz film Forever Darling, again playing a maid. Kulp returned to Desilu for a 1959 special with Milton Berle and Lucille Ball and a 1962 episode of “The Lucy Show” where she played Navy Officer Jane Corey.

Miss Jane's relationship to Mr. Drysdale was not dissimilar to Lucy Carmichael's relationship to her banker boss, Mr. Mooney.

Bea Benadaret (Cousin Pearl Bodine) first starred with Lucille Ball on her radio series “My Favorite Husband” (1948-1951), primarily as best friend Iris Atterbury. Benadaret was Ball’s first choice to play Ethel Mertz on “I Love Lucy,” but she was already contracted to play Blanche Morton on “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show”, another best friend character. Ball still managed to cast her as a one-off character, Miss Lewis, an elderly spinster, on season one of “I Love Lucy.”

Frank Wilcox (John Brewster) appeared with Lucille Ball in the films Her Husband’s Affairs (1947) and The Fuller Brush Girl (1950). He played Frank Spaulding, owner of the Connecticut house in "Lucy Wants To Move To The Country" (1957).

Elvia Allman (Elverna Bradshaw) was heard with Lucille Ball on “My Favorite Husband” before playing the strident Candy Factory Forewoman on “I Love Lucy.” Allman returned to the show as one of Minnie Finch’s neighbors in “Fan Magazine Interview” (1954) and prim magazine reporter Nancy Graham in “The Homecoming” (1955). She made two appearances on “The Lucy–Desi Comedy Hour“ - first as Ida Thompson, Westfield’s PTA director, then as Milton Berle’s private secretary. Allman would also be seen on two episodes of “The Lucy Show" as a customer in a department store and the manager of an employment agency. Allman’s final screen appearance with Lucille Ball reunited her with Bob Hope: “Bringing Back Vaudeville” in 1971. For Desilu, Allman was seen on “December Bride” (1954-59), and “The Ann Sothern Show” (1958).

Milton Frome (Lawrence Chapman) played Sam, who Lucy Ricardo tried to fix up with Dorothy, in “The Matchmaker” (1954). He played Milton Berle's agent in a "Lucy Saves Milton Berle" (1965). He also played a waiter in a 1972 episode of “Here’s Lucy” starring Donny Osmond.

Ray Kellogg (Gate Guard / Police Officer) played the barking Assistant Director (“Roll ‘em!”) in “Ricky’s Screen Test” (1954) and later appeared in “Bullfight Dance” (1955). He was seen on 7 episodes of “The Lucy Show” and two episodes of “Here’s Lucy.” In many of his appearances he played policemen or guards, just as he does here.

Charles Lane (Foster Phinney / Homer Bedloe / Billy Hacker) appeared in 7 films with Lucille Ball between 1933 and 1949. He was also heard on her radio show "My Favorite Husband". On "I Love Lucy," he played 4 characters and 2 more on "The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour." He was cast as banker Barnsdahl on "The Lucy Show," but was released after 4 episodes so that Ball could hire Gale Gordon. He went from Desilu to Hooterville with his role of Homer Bedloe on "Petticoat Junction," which he also plays on "The Beverly Hillbillies".

Phil Silvers (Shifty Shafer aka Honest John) gave Lucille Ball a cameo on his show "Sergeant Bilko" in 1959. In 1963, Ball and Silvers performed the classic ‘Slowly I Turn’ sketch for “CBS Opening Night.” In December 1966, Silvers guest-starred as Oliver Kasten in “Lucy and the Efficiency Expert”. A year later Ball and Silvers both had bit parts in the film A Guide for the Married Man (1967).

Roy Roberts (John Cushing / Judge) appeared with Lucille Ball in Miss Grant Takes Richmond (1949). On “The Lucy Show” he first appeared as a Navy Admiral in “Lucy and the Submarine” before creating the role of Mr. Cheever, the president of Mr. Mooney’s bank, a recurring character he played through the end of the series. On “Here’s Lucy” he played the Superintendent of the Air Force Academy in season two’s two-part opener. He also played doctors in “Lucy and the Astronauts�� (1971) and in "Lucy is N.G. as an R.N." (1973).

Shirley Mitchell (Opal Clampett) became friends with Lucille Ball in the late 1940s when she was featured in 4 episodes of “My Favorite Husband.” Mitchell reunited with Lucille Ball on “I Love Lucy” playing Marion Strong, member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League. She also played Mae Belle Jennings on "Petticoat Junction."

Joi Lansing (Gladys Flatt) first worked with Lucille Ball on “I Love Lucy” in “Desert Island” (1956) and returned to play Miss Long Neck in "Lucy Wants a Career" (1959). She did an episode of Desilu's "The Untouchables" and appeared for Desi Arnaz on an episode of "The Mothers-in-Law".

Alan Reed Jr. (Sheldon Epps / Buddy) is probably best remembered as the voice of Fred Flintstone, acting opposite Bea Benadaret (Cousin Pearl). He was heard with Lucille Ball on "My Favorite Husband" (1949). In 1963 he played a café owner in “Lucy Visits the White House”. In 1967, he made an appearance on the Desi Arnaz series “The Mothers-in-Law”.

Most of the principal cast of "The Flintstones" (1960-1966) appeared on "The Beverly Hillbillies": Bea Benadaret (Betty), Alan Reed Jr. (Fred), and Mel Blanc (Barney) all appeared on the show. Jean Vander Pyl did not act on "The Beverly Hillbillies," but did appear on its sister show "Petticoat Junction" and voiced Maw on the cartoon "The Hillbilly Bears" (1966). All four also worked with Lucille Ball on radio and/or television. There was also an episode of "The Flintstones" titled "The Bedrock Hillbillies" (above) featuring animated characters named Granny and Jethro Hatrock with voice talent Howard Morris, John Stephenson, and June Foray, all of whom also worked with Lucille Ball.

Richard Deacon (Dr. Klinger / Mr. Brubaker) made two guest star appearances on Desilu's “December Bride” in 1956 in one of which he played Desi Arnaz’s butler. It’s not surprising that he was cast as Tallulah Bankhead’s butler Winslow in “The Celebrity Next Door,” a 1957 episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour.” In 1963 he played Harvey Rittenhouse in the Ball / Hope film Critic’s Choice. In October 1964, Deacon and Lucille Ball both played themselves on “Bob Hope Presents The Chrysler Theatre: Have Girls, Will Travel”. He was employed again by Desi Sr. as a regular on “The Mothers-in-Law” (1968-69). He was seen on two episodes of "Here's Lucy."

Paul Winchell (Grandpa Winch) was just 40 years old when he donned old age make-up to play Grandpa Winch in "Home for Christmas" (S1;E13). Four years later he was aged again to play Doc Porter on a two-part episode of "The Lucy Show" set in a the small town of Bancroft.

Mary Wickes (Adaline Ashley) was one of Lucille Ball's best friends of screen. She appeared on "I Love Lucy," "The Lucy Show," and "Here's Lucy," in addition to many other TV specials alongside Ball. The 1967 episode of "The Beverly Hillbillies" Wickes appeared on was aired between two of her "Lucy Show" appearances and featured Gail Bonney, who was seen on "I Love Lucy" and "The Lucy Show."

Eddie Albert and Eva Gabor (Oliver and Lisa Douglas) ~ were visitors to Beverly Hills from Hooterville, but both stars were also favorites of Lucille Ball. Gabor appeared in two episodes of "Here's Lucy", one as herself, and Albert played himself in a 1973 episode. In 1950, he co-starred with Lucille Ball in The Fuller Brush Girl.

Star Casting

John Wayne made a cameo appearance on "The Beverly Hillbillies". When asked how he wanted to be paid, he is best remembered answering back with: "Give me a fifth of bourbon--that'll square it." Wayne appeared as himself on "I Love Lucy" (1955) and "The Lucy Show" (1966). His uncredited cameo on "The Indians Are Coming" (S5;E20) was aired in 1967.

Sammy Davis Jr. (Sergeant Patrick Muldoon) made two appearances on the series during November 1968 episodes set in NYC. Although he plays a character here (an Irish cop!), he played himself on "Here's Lucy" in September 1970. His first "Hillbillies" appearance also features Lucy's friend and co-star Phil Silvers as Shifty Shafer (aka Honest John), a recurring character that was seen in eight episodes.

Impressionist Rich Little played himself in the season nine opener of "The Beverly Hillbillies." Mr. Drysdale convinces him to impersonate President Richard Nixon over the telephone to fool Jed. Nixon was one of Little's most popular impressions. When he played himself on a 1971 episode of "Here's Lucy," Nixon wasn't mentioned, but he did do his impression of John Wayne (see above).

Hedda Hopper played herself in "Hedda Hopper's Hollywood" (S3;E4) in 1964, an episode named after her newspaper column and television specials, one of which featured Lucille Ball. That same 1960 special featured Gloria Swanson, who did a cameo as herself in a 1966 episode titled "The Gloria Swanson Story" (S5;E12). Curiously, Hopper played herself in a 1955 episode of "I Love Lucy" titled "The Hedda Hopper Story." An episode of "The Lucy Show" titled "Lucy and the Lost Star" was intended for Swanson, but the lost star eventually cast was Joan Crawford.

Robert Cummings appeared as himself in "The Race for Queen" (S2;E19) playing the celebrity judge of the Queen of Beverly Hills beauty contest. He was known as Bob Collins on "The Bob Cummings Show" (aka "Love That Bob!"), which ran from 1955 to 1959. The same year it ended he played himself on a 1959 episode of "The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour" set in Japan. He reprised the character of Bob Collins on a 1972 episode of "Here’s Lucy” (above) and returned the following season for another episode as a different Bob. His sitcom had featured many of the same actors as "The Beverly Hillbillies" and various Lucycoms, but especially Joi Lansing, Nancy Kulp, and Elvia Allman. Cummings' appearance on "Hillbillies" is primarily attributable to the fact that BH creator Paul Henning produced "The Bob Cummings Show"!

Other Common Cast Members

Jack Bannon, Wally Cox, Peter Leeds, Bobs Watson, Lyle Talbot, Doris Packer Eleanor Audley, Maurice Marsac, Leon Ames, Jesse White, George Barrows, Herb Vigran, Jean Willes, Norman Leavitt, Leon Belasco, Burt Mustin, Iris Adrian, Foster Brooks, Ted Eccles, Robert Foulk, Tristram Coffin, Byron Foulger, Gil Perkins, Hal Taggart, Robert Cummings, Natalie Schaffer, Mel Blanc, John McGiver, Don Rickles, John Carradine, Jacques Bergerac, Hans Conried, Murvyn Vye, Bernie Kopell, Barbara Morrison, Phil Arnold, Ellen Corby, Robert Carson, Barry Kelley, William Newell, Lurene Tuttle, Karen Norris, Hayden Rorke, Benny Rubin, Helen Kleeb, Bill Quinn, Frank J. Scannell, Irwin Charrone, Gail Bonney, Fritz Feld, Norma Varden, Murray Pollack, Jil Jarmyn, Olan Soule, John Gallaudet, George N. Niese, Dick Winslow, Tommy Farrell, Cliff Norton, Robert Osborne, Nestor Paiva, Larry J. Blake, Hans Moebus, Norman Stevans, Monty O'Grady, Steve Carruthers, and Bert Stevens.

~ Stay Tuned for Part 2 : Episodes ~

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christinered · 3 months ago

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Wanna know a secret Kinksters?

Its lunch time. The neighbors have a plumber coming in and out of our apartments. It seems the problem is in the wall and he needs access to both places.

I am currently blushing and smirking just typing this to you...

I am listening to a spectacularly filthy, adults only, dark romance audiobook. People walking back and forth. Nodding Hello. Smiling at me as the girl in this book is getting an angry revenge tag team with gasp-worthy wicked whispering. Its so fucking hot. I'm sitting here sweating, blushing with my legs clenched tight and these people think that I am working.

I am so glad I binged watched too much true crime and switched to dark wicked fiction.

I love naughty mischief. This is a great job.

Have a great day guys

~Red

#christinered #aggressive redhead #wiseass smartass badass #mischievous redhead #wicked little redhead #audiophile #dark romance #audiobooks #corrupt #penelope douglas #dirty redhead #poker face #naughty redhead

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queenclaudiabrown · 1 year ago

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She'll Be Coming With Us | Chapter Four: Thereafter

Content warnings: uncensored cussing (contains: ‘hell’ [not the place] and ‘balls’ [not referring to genitalia]); canon-typical violence and triggers (such as the Gorgonopsid’s death); mild alcohol consumption and referenced drunkenness; food; infected blisters and associated pain and medical care but no needles; mentions of sweat if you find that triggering; minor nudity (character takes a bath but it is not descriptive or sexual); brief mention of menstruation [supplies, brief and vague]; Lester being a canon-typical arse; mentions of the Gulf War; mentions of jail/arrests, public urination, brawling, and mild vandalism; very brief mention/threat of murder but it’s kinda??? in jest (is it though?); I think that’s everything but if I missed something notify me and I will rectify it Word count: 9,613

Series Masterlist

Friday, May 19th, 2006

19:58 / 7:58 p.m.

Claudia, Nick, and Ryan crashed through the anomaly, back to home and safety, in a harsh reversal of their entrance into the Permian. Bright evening sunshine switched to the blackness of night like a switch being flipped, the glow of the dying anomaly and the freestanding lamps set up at the campsite inconsequential. The intense heat and cloying humidity changed to the chill of a spring night in England, although the underlying dampness in 2006 seemed infinitesimal in comparison. Claudia gasped as she tumbled and rolled across the ground; damp but packed soil and dead pine needles. The musty, earthy smell of the Forest filled her lungs, and the scent of rain felt like coming home.

They were swarmed by civilians and Home Office scientists alike, a cacophony of overlapping questions and camera shutters clicking exploding in her ears. She couldn’t make any of it out distinctly, too entangled in the shift between worlds and her relief at escaping to absorb anything else.

The anomaly snapped closed, fizzling into oblivion.

Someone helped her stand. Blinking, she struggled to adapt her vision to the change in location. After a few moments, her eyes caught on Abby Maitland, the yellow-white light of the lamps glowing in her hair. Her lips moved, but Claudia’s ears were still ringing and too overwhelmed to parse what words they framed. She thought she might be sick.

Abby, bless her, seemed to understand and led Claudia away from the anomaly, guiding her to sit down on a case of some kind, where she sat shivering. The blonde disappeared, but reappeared a few moments later with a paper cup of water. Claudia took it and gulped it down in a few seconds, but her mouth and throat still felt burning dry.

The hubbub around her was muted entirely by a growling, throaty roar like nothing Claudia had ever heard before, like a hybrid of a lion’s roar and a wolf’s growl but somehow even more terrifying. A fresh pandemonium erupted around her, and eyes that hadn’t quite adjusted caught a huge form galloping on all fours toward the site. Everyone was moving, a flurry of panic and fear and survival. Soldiers abandoned their stations and ran toward the beast, half-cloaked in shadow despite the blinding lamps, and fired on it. The adrenaline from the mad scramble back into 2006 hadn’t even begun to fade from Claudia yet, but it spiked even higher at the animal war cry and broke her from her terrified paralysis into a terrified run.

A scientist clad in all white nearly toppled her over as he raced by, and the sickening realization that about half a dozen civilians and several dozen non-military government officials were present hit Claudia. “Ryan! Clear the area!” She shouted hoarsely, whirling on the spot in a desperate attempt to locate the civilians- Nick, Connor, Abby, and Stephen. The motion caused the muzzle of the rifle still strapped to her chest to bump into her knee again, and in horror she registered that Ryan had only a pistol to defend himself with; the other soldiers likely had all the other guns. She glanced down at herself, briefly contemplating whether or not she should take up the weapon and join in defending the camp.

“Brown, move!” Ryan’s voice cut through the din of screaming and gunfire and roaring. She whipped her head toward the source of the sound and caught choppy glimpses of him moving through the hysterical crowd. She pushed her way toward him, hands coming up to loosen the strap holding the rifle to her. They met in the middle and she quickly pulled it over her head. He took it from her with a grateful nod, and then they were apart again, dashing in opposite directions. He ran toward danger, doing his duty, relying on his training just as she did, although hers dictated that she evacuate to a safer location to allow those trained and equipped to combat a threat to do their job without risk of hindrance or collateral damage. She was smart enough to know there was naught she could do to help the soldiers except get out of their way, and if her instinct to flee agreed with her training, so be it. A modicum of relief sliced through her panic as she caught sight of Connor and Abby in her peripheral vision, fleeing in the same direction she was, and Nick Cutter himself less than a meter ahead of her. Stephen was nowhere to be seen, but she was sure that if he was at the site, he was also fleeing. She probably just couldn’t see him in that dark coat of his with her eyes still not fully adjusted.

In spite of its power, adrenaline can only do so much. Her feet were sore, throbbing with every step, and probably bleeding by now. Disorientation still had a firm grip on her, and she was paradoxically sweating and shivering together. Her aching head was spinning with the change in lighting and the commotion encompassing her, the darkness of the Forest at night like gazing into a black hole and the lamps somehow both too dim and too bright all at once. Her heart had never gotten a chance to stop pounding since she, Ryan, and Nick had staggered up that last hill toward the anomaly.

Claudia tripped, vertical and moving one moment and flat on her stomach and definitely not moving the next. “Cutter!” She called, his name an instinctive cry. He reversed direction immediately, shouting her name. His hands came down on her arms and she turned over as she started to get up. Her and Nick’s eyes landed on the creature at the same moment- the creature that had ceased moving, and was now staring intently at them.

They began to scramble away. The heels of her boots dug into the earth as she struggled to propel herself backward, her upper body suspended by Nick’s grasp alone. But Claudia knew they were moving too slow. All she could see was the lamplight glinting of saliva-dripping saber fangs and menacing orange eyes focused and fixated on her. Its low grumbling growl emanated from deep in its throat, disturbingly audible over the pounding of her heart that thudded like a drum in her already overstimulated ears. The ground vibrated with every impact of its clawed feet as it prowled toward them, stalking toward its kill. She saw the cow, heard the description of the gouges torn into the side of a shipping lorry where it was photographed. She knew what those claws were capable of, and she knew that she was next.

She wished for a moment that she hadn’t cried out, that Nick hadn’t heard her, that he hadn’t come back for her. Especially with a death as gruesome and unstoppable as the one that awaited her, she would much prefer to die alone than share her gory fate with someone else.

The shrill beeping of a car or truck hooter was the most unexpected thing that could have happened in that moment, and yet it did. Claudia’s head snapped to the left, mimicking the creature. A silver Hilux barreled through the trees, headlamps bright. In a way that distantly reminded Claudia of an aggravated bull, the beast charged the truck, and the breath caught in her chest as she watched the two collide just a few meters away. The truck halted, and the creature bounced off and hit the ground solidly.

The driver’s side door opened, and none other than Stephen Hart climbed out. He stared down at the creature with an expression Claudia couldn’t properly decipher in that moment- guilt, she supposed, for the kill, and some measure of shock as well. She swallowed and brought her legs up under her, reaching up to grasp the upright collar of Nick’s wool jacket for leverage. His hands went to her waist, steadying her as she stood. Her eyes remained glued to the creature where it lay but a couple meters away.

And then, one orange eye shot open- dear God, would this night ever end?- and the creature began to rise with a roar, like a horror film’s killer being resurrected for the millionth time. “Stephen!” Nick shouted. His hands still on Claudia’s waist, he swung her around himself on stumbling and sore feet, moving her out of danger. Her arms flung out to steady herself as she watched Nick grab a machine gun from a small rack of them within arms’ reach (she would need to have a conversation with Ryan about that). “Catch!” He called, tossing the firearm through the air into Stephen’s waiting hands, as if they had done this a dozen times before. He shouted again, but she didn’t catch his words over the din.

She reached out, grabbing at Nick’s shoulder to pull him back as the beast advanced. With a grace that made the move look practiced, Stephen dropped to one knee, bringing the automatic rifle to his right cheek and opening fire on the advancing creature. Blood spurted out in a small vermillion geyser from the creature’s side, but the injury didn’t seem to deter it. Stephen continued to fire, another burst of rounds, and it fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. It drew itself up again, one last struggling attempt to get to its feet, but the life went out of it and the creature went limp as it finally, finally died.

It was not an easy thing for Claudia to process that it was dead, having been just seconds away from being consumed by what was now an unmoving, utterly harmless lump of dead flesh. Her eyes remained affixed to the creature, unable to look away from the corpse. Blood still flowed through its veins, carried by inertia; the body, should she touch it, would still be as warm as it was two minutes before mid-rampage. But it was dead, as dead as the Canadian soldier whose bones Claudia had touched.

“That was bloody close.” Nick broke the silent aftershock, the thick burr of his accented voice muffled in Claudia’s ears as the unblocked sound of gunfire still rang in them. But his words served to shake her out of the nigh-catatonic paralysis that had overtaken her.

“Too close.” Stephen agreed, and the unruly tumult of feelings drowned out the shock and lingering fear.

She stepped away from Nick, still unsteadily, and took two aggravated steps toward Stephen before she no longer trusted her stride. “Where-” Claudia began, her chest heaving with more than just adrenaline, “-the bloody hell have you been?” She demanded. Stephen shrank back slightly from the vexation in her eyes. “Well?” She pressed. Stephen opened his mouth, floundering visibly, but she cut him off before he could speak. “No, actually. No. I am going to speak to Captain Ryan and ensure that he has everything under control here and that we are not needed. Then we are going back to the hotel, and I am going to change my clothes and eat something, and then we will discuss this. That means all of us.” She directed pointed looks at the professor, Connor, and Abby. “Have I made myself clear?”

Abby nodded, eyes wide. “Yup, sure have, sure have.” Connor stammered awkwardly. (She’d feel bad for frightening him later.) Nick looked the picture of innocence, but nodded as well.

“Good.” Claudia ended the discussion, if it could be called that, curtly. Seeing that they were still standing there awkwardly- a little nervous of inciting her wrath, no doubt- she snapped, “In the car. Or cars. That truck’s not safe to be driven. I’ll join you shortly.”

They dispersed like fish fleeing a shark, but Claudia was to exhausted and worked up to really care. She glanced around in search of Ryan and finally found him on the other side of the space, near where the anomaly had been. He looked relatively unharmed, but was crouched beside the prone form of another soldier.

“Medic!” He called out. Claudia started toward him, concerned for the welfare of the fallen man, but skirted well around the corpse of the creature. She knew, realistically, that it couldn’t hurt her anymore, but blood was still freely flowing out of the wounds, and the body would still be as warm as life should she touch it. Which was not something she had a desire to do.

She made her way over to Ryan and the others who were grouped around their comrade. Her shadow, cast long by one of the lamps that hadn’t been knocked over, fell over Ryan, and he lifted his head to look at her. “He’s alive.” He reported.

“Good to hear.” A voice at Claudia’s shoulder responded, and a Home Office medic stepped past her to squat at the soldier’s side. “We can take it from here, Captain.” She told him, casting glances about at the others. Taking the hint for what it was, Claudia and Ryan stepped back, echoed by the others. The other medics began streaming over, swarming around the unconscious soldier and tending to him.

Ryan made his way over to Claudia. “Ms. Brown, glad to see you’re alright. I saw the creature heading your way before the fellow in the truck dealt with it.”

“If Stephen hadn’t arrived when he did, I wouldn’t have been.” Claudia admitted, looking at her dirty hands as she rubbed them together for warmth. “Do you believe the site to be secure?”

“So long as the brain trust thinks there’s no more creatures, yes.” Ryan replied, gesturing with his head toward the vehicles.

“I’ll ask them. We’re heading back to the Eddington Hotel to get out from underfoot and debrief.” She weighed her words carefully. “If it does not interfere with your responsibilities, I would appreciate it if you retired to the hotel as well.”

He cracked a light smile. “Because I was on the other side with you and the professor, I assume?”

“In part.” She admitted. “I am not military, but I imagine you’re entitled to a break after the completion of your mission. You executed it quite well, and-” she cut herself off, smiling sheepishly and dropping her gaze to her now filthy shoes. “And I’m very grateful for what you did to get us all out of there alive. You saved the professor’s life, and mine, and I’ll never forget that.”

“I’m not so sure I saved yours, Ms. Brown. You seem to have a sensible head on your shoulders.” Ryan replied. “I won’t contradict you as far as Professor Cutter goes, though. Bloody fool.”

Claudia laughed despite herself, not expecting that. “Well, I couldn’t have dragged him all the way back; I doubt I could even have knocked him out. And I wouldn’t have left without him. But you did knock him out, and you carried him on your shoulders all that way, and then you convinced him to come back here. I do owe you my life. And for heaven’s sake, call me ‘Claudia’. I think we’ve moved past that formality.”

The ride back to the Eddington Hotel was silent, a combination of exhaustion and shock blanketing the occupants of the Hilux. Claudia was in the backseat this time, with Connor in the middle and Abby turned toward her own door, holding her jacket and a bright purple scarf bundled together to her chest like a child holds their favorite stuffed animal. Distantly Claudia wondered if the blonde was experiencing some sort of flashback to a childhood trauma, given her position and newfound- what was the word?- shyness, almost. She’d been very quiet all of a sudden, and had shed her jacket despite the night’s chill and the short sleeves of the top she wore underneath.

Upon returning to the hotel, Claudia ordered herself a plate of bangers and mash before heading upstairs to her room to freshen up. She stood in front of the full-length mirror and looked at herself, top-to-bottom. Her once neatly braided hair was now an unkempt, half-undone mess of frizzy copper. Her dark eyes were dulled with exhaustion even to her gaze, seemingly sunken into their sockets above dark bags that were visible after she’d sweat her makeup off.

Dark earth was streaked on the knees of her trousers and the front of her white jacket and powder blue top, and it was caked in the soles and on the backs of the heels of her horrid sneakers. They looked better covered in dirt, she decided, with their clashing neons muted by sediment.

The soreness that lay under those smears and stains would remind her of how she got them for a while yet. She shuddered involuntarily as her mind turned back to those harrowing moments, the mindless terror swallowing her as she ran on weary legs. She was very lucky to be alive.

Claudia owed Stephen her life; there was no doubt about it. Between ramming the creature with the truck and shooting it dead, he had been the reason she and Nick had escaped being torn to shreds or eaten alive. Nick’s efforts would not be forgotten, of course; he had risked his own life and come back for her, dragged her away from that animal when her own legs had failed her. As much as she hated to admit it, she had at once felt safe in his arms, sheltered by his strength and courage.

That was a dangerous path of thought to go down, and Claudia knew it, rebuking herself for allowing it to happen and blaming the exhaustion, stress, and trauma of the day for a slip of that nature and magnitude.

She did her best to put her mind in order as she took a quick shower, keeping the water lukewarm to avoid staying under the spray for too long. Fortunately, she still had her old clothes that she’d changed out of before heading through the anomaly, so she put them back on, along with her loafers. After drying her hair to an acceptable level and braiding it, she put on just enough makeup to make her look less exhausted than she was and headed back downstairs.

The small lunch she’d eaten with Nick and Abby in the Home Office canteen seemed so long ago now, and nearly moot, as if she hadn’t eaten at all. Her hot supper was ready and sitting before her on a white (material) dinnerplate within five to seven minutes of her returning to the combination bar and restaurant portion of the hotel, and she found herself sitting in the same place she had been when she had first laid eyes on Nick. Mercifully, there was no nameless, arrogant sleazebag blathering away and sitting across from her this time. Actually, there was no one sitting in the same booth as her at all, which was probably the best for her image, considering the way she ravenously wolfed down her dinner despite it being far too hot to eat. She tasted very little of it through the burning sensation as she shoveled it into her mouth, but it was a balm to her painfully empty stomach, and what flavor she did glean from it she certainly enjoyed.

Her hunger satisfied and her bad mood somewhat abated, Claudia leaned back against the overstuffed leather back of her bench seat and arranged her dishes neatly to make things easier for the busser when they arrived to clear her table. She might be exhausted, irritated, and moderately traumatized, but that was no excuse for a lack of manners.

She found the others all together; Nick and Abby at the bar drinking and Connor and Stephen sitting in the nearest booth, the latter with a beer in his hand and two empty bottles in front of him. “Abby, gentlemen.” Claudia drew their attention to herself. “We have some things we need to discuss- privately. Come with me.”

Nick and Stephen exchanged a look that Claudia did not miss, and in tandem they threw back the rest of their respective drinks. Sensing the tension, Abby mimicked them, and Connor got to his feet as the others did, though he kept a tight grip on his mug of… cocoa, judging by the scent.

Claudia led them upstairs to her room, which she had neatly tidied before heading downstairs. The bed was made, and her personal items were packed up, save for her dirty clothes which now temporarily resided in the loo, hidden from sight by the closed door.

“We’ve all had a long day, so I’ll be brief.” Claudia began. “This morning, Professor Cutter, Ms. Maitland, and myself returned to London to sign the Official Secrets Act. Sir James Lester, who far outranks me, is acting as our overseer in London; he’s coordinating the soldiers and so forth, I won’t bore you with the technicalities and jargon. Testing of the lizard Rex confirmed that he was a Coelurosauruvus, if I’m pronouncing that correctly. Sir Lester authorized a trip through the anomaly to search for Mrs. Cutter and return Rex to his own time. We were accompanied by Captain Tom Ryan. On the other side, we released Rex and began exploring. We found the remnants of a human campsite, and… human remains.”

Steadfastly ignoring the others’ shock for the sake of continuing her tale, Claudia also squashed down her memories of the emotionally-tumultuous events that had occurred next. “We found one body, a man, wearing Canadian dog tags. We know nothing further about his identity yet. I’ll have to inform Sir Lester, but other than him, I would very much appreciate it if we kept the discovery of the tags among ourselves, given the potential international implications.” The others nodded, much to her relief. “Thank you. I do have the tags, and I’ll have a friend of mine at the Home Office take a look at them. Beside the body, Captain Ryan found a camera that Professor Cutter has identifies as belonging to his wife.”

Stephen, surprisingly, had the strongest reaction to this. “She was at the camp?” He queried, face suddenly brightening with hope.

“We won’t know for sure until we develop the film in the camera and see if it contains any clues.” Claudia explained. She filed away his reaction- one she would’ve expected from Helen’s husband- for further contemplation. “But considering the camera was buried right next to the body, it’s a reasonable guess that the two are connected. At that point we returned to present day, which the rest of you were there for.” She let out a breath. “Now that I’ve explained what happened in London and the Permian, I’d very much like to know what happened in the Forest of Dean while I was gone.” She fixed Stephen with a look she’d inherited from her mother, Samantha Brown, the same one that she had unfailingly pulled the truth from her husband Clarence and young Claudia with.

Stephen swallowed uncomfortably, shifting nervously in place. “Y-You want me to explain?”

Claudia huffed out an incredulous breath at his uncertain tone. “Well, Stephen, considering you left without checking in with either me or the Home Office security forces present at the anomaly site before going to hunt down a dangerous creature that hadn’t even been identified yet, sent Connor back to us after he identified it as powerful and destructive, and then lost contact for several hours only to come careening back at the eleventh hour with your kamikaze rescue plan that I’m frankly surprised worked at all, I think you’d better have a bloody good explanation for your actions. I want to know why the hell you thought it was a good idea to face down what Connor called a ‘compact killing machine’ with ‘incredible power’ alone and unarmed without so much as ringing to inform someone of your plans, or that its trail had led you to a fucking school!”

“…When you put it that way, it does sound bad and… poorly-planned.” Stephen admitted. “For what it’s worth, it didn’t seem so reckless in the moment.”

“Foolish and irresponsible actions rarely do.” Claudia replied, clipped.

“Just for the record, I sent Connor back because I didn’t want to put him in danger.” Stephen said. “I didn’t know where the Gorgonopsid was headed and I didn’t want to bring him into a situation that I might not be able to safely get him out of. I’ve dealt with a lot of dangerous animals before, and I’ve always been able to handle them better if I’m alone because I don’t have to look out for anyone else. I wasn’t planning on directly confronting the Gorgonopsid until I realized it was how much danger the kid and his teacher were in. When I did… there wasn’t even a question anymore. It was breaking down the door to their classroom. If I hadn’t intervened they would both be dead.”

Claudia sighed deeply. Stephen seemed like an intelligent man, and she had firsthand seen how good of a tracker he was. And it had been her who had called in reinforcements on account of innocent lives- Ben Trent’s life included- being at risk. She could hardly criticize him for risking his life for a kid and another civilian bystander when she had mustered the troops for the same reason. She had gone through a doorway in time, seen impossible things, and violated a grave; meanwhile, he had tracked a living fossil through the Gloucester woodland and nearly been killed by said creature while saving a child and his teacher from it. They had both had a rough day, their lives and the lives of two other people with them hanging in the balance. She couldn’t find it in herself to be angry at him anymore.

“What happened to them?” She pressed.

Stephen gave a light shrug. “Well, after I managed to draw it away from them and it threw me through the fire doors and knocked me out-” Claudia, Nick, and Abby all made strangled noises at his words as he rushed through them with a wince “-I woke up eventually, not sure how long I was out for though, and it was gone. There was a car parked outside when I got there and it was gone when I woke up, and when I went inside the classroom door looked like it had when I last saw it, and there was no blood or anything inside. I’m guessing they escaped while I was unconscious.” Abby’s sigh of relief completely covered the sound of Claudia’s. “Then I ran back and found the truck where I’d left it- I’m guessing Connor either walked or hailed a cab- and drove back to the anomaly site, and… well, you know the rest.”

Claudia nodded. “Well, It’s apparent that neither you nor Professor Cutter possess a single shred of self-preservation, but at least you seem to not be mulish about it.” Nick squawked offendedly, but she paid him no mind. “I’ll make some calls and find out for sure if Ben and his teacher are in fact alive, but given what you said I’m inclined to believe that they are. I’m not going to yell at you anymore, not now that I know what happened. Thank you for explaining.” Stephen nodded in response, no longer wild-eyed like a skittish deer.

Nick let out a deep sigh. “Bloody hell, Stephen. And you say I’m reckless.”

“Well, you are. Just because I’m reckless doesn’t mean you’re not.” Stephen refuted sensibly. “You pick fights any sane person would’ve walked away from much before. I’ve bailed you out of jail more times than I can count for brawling and disturbing the peace. And that’s not counting the times I’ve physically kept you from pissing on somebody’s lawn… or house… or car… or the person themselves… because they got you cheesed off. Or the time I got arrested because I lied and said I threw that stone angel porch decoration through that bloke’s windscreen when it was actually you.”

Nick’s mouth was opening and shutting like a fish as several emotions passed tellingly over his face. “…I don’t remember that last one.”

The expression on Stephen’s face was stony and unamused with Nick’s picture-of-innocence antics. “I did nine months community service for that. Would’ve actually gone to jail if we hadn’t both been balls-to-the-wall sloshed.” He tilted his head. “You passed out in the squad car on the way to the station, if I remember correctly.”

Though she had been silently listening and observing during this conversation, Claudia had felt her blood pressure rising and her headache worsening, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, no more misdemeanor stories, thank you. You’re both bloody menaces and unless you want to be murdered by my colleague and friend for raising my blood pressure an unhealthy amount, you’ll never consume alcohol around me. If you do, there will be consequences.”

The professor and his laboratory assistant/technician exchanged looks and gulped, then nodded dutifully.

“Good. Now, all of you get the hell out of my room, and don’t let me see you again before a reasonable hour tomorrow morning unless there is an actual emergency.”

Connor nearly ate the carpet and the doorjamb (in two separate incidents) as he tripped over his own feet in a mad scramble to get into the hallway, and the others followed quickly behind, albeit in a more orderly fashion. She shut the door behind them with a decisive click and rested her forehead against the polished amber wood of the door, shoulders sagging as she expelled all the air in her lungs with a single longsuffering sigh. She was not getting paid enough for this. Could she ask for a bonus- hazard pay, or something like that? It was worth looking into, at the very least. Maybe she could haggle an extra week of leave time.

She locked the room door and sought out her mobile, and pressing her second ‘emergency’ contact, the one and the only Lorraine Wickes. Flopping backward onto the bed, she put the phone to her ear and waited for her friend to pick up.

The answer came exactly eight seconds later, like it always did. “Hello?”

“Hi, Lorraine, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that I’m alive and in one piece, although I think I left my sanity and patience in the Late Permian.”

“You’re speaking coherently; you’ll be fine.” Lorraine replied primly despite the late hour. Despite her crisp, professional tone, Claudia knew that Lorraine was being kind. “Are you injured?”

“Bumps and bruises. When we came back through, we were attacked by a Gorgonopsid, and I tripped and fell trying to get away from it. We’re all okay, though- although there’s one soldier I’ll need to check in about later- and the Gorgonopsid is dead.”

“Good. You do know that if you had died or been trapped back there that I would have found a way to drag you back kicking and screaming?”

A chuckle burst from Claudia’s lips despite herself. “I would’ve been disappointed if you hadn’t.”

There was a quiet bang in the background, followed by a muffled shout of pain. “Cállase, por favor.” Lorraine called to someone on her end- her voice bland but tinged with the faintest hint of irritation, like it was an inconvenience to have to say it.

Claudia did not speak Spanish barring the basics, so she wasn’t sure what the first part of what Lorraine had said meant. She decided she didn’t want to know. Best not to ask – ‘ignorance is bliss’ and all that.

“Do you think I can get a raise? Or hazard pay?” She asked instead, twirling a lock of hair around one finger lazily. “You know I’m not the type to ask for that lightly.”

“Indeed not. Prehistoric times must have been quite the experience.” Noted Lorraine, and Claudia knew that it was her way of asking if she was okay.

“It could’ve been a lot worse, and I’ll fill you in on all the details when it’s more convenient, but I thoroughly disliked it, and I would very much like to go back to my old workload. Desk duty has never been so appealing to me before as it is right now.” Claudia confessed.

“I see.” Lorraine replied, voice tight and hard to keep it from trembling with concern. “Well, given your excellent record and the nature of the situation, you probably have a good chance, especially since you’re asking for some form of compensation for your troubles and not a promotion or even a transfer or reassignment. I’ll see what I can do, but you know I can’t promise anything.”

“Of course, I understand. Thank you.” Claudia turned her head away to yawn in a most undignified manner. “Well, I’m bloody knackered and I’m sure you’re quite busy, so I’ll hang up now. Do you think I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You’d better.” Replied Lorraine cheekily. “I will be finished with my present situation shortly and there is no reason to not be at work as usual tomorrow. Get some rest, now.”

“Goodnight, Lorraine.” Claudia replied. She knew that her friend could not return the pleasantry as she was almost certainly in a setting where she could not show affection, so she hung up. She let her arm drop so that it was extended over the edge of the bed, and loosening her fingers she let her mobile slip from her fingers and hit the carpeted floor. Toeing off her shoes, she let them land by the foot of the bed with a twin set of muffled thumps. Her hands went to her face and she rubbed her eyes, which were sore from the stress and strain and lack of sleep over the last few days.

She really hoped Lorraine could get her some kind of compensation for her efforts.

Saturday, May 20th, 2006

08:14 a.m.

Sleeping in was a rare thing for Claudia, but considering all that had happened over the last few days, she didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it. The last thing she wanted to do was get up, drive for two and a half to three hours, and then deal with Lester and her colleagues (except Lorraine; she was wonderful and never unappealing to deal with) and enough red tape to mummify a Gorgonopsid. Unfortunately, those were the cards that she had been dealt, and it was her turn.

Fortunately, Claudia still had the loafers she had switched her other shoes for earlier that day while Nick and Abby signed the OSA, as well as a two-day-old office outfit. It wasn’t ideal to wear again, but she didn’t really care. After a brief shower that morning, she changed into that outfit, packed up the rest of her things, and ate a quick but satisfying breakfast. After verifying that everyone’s rooms, meals, and drinks had been paid for, the group got into their respective vehicles (Connor riding back with Nick and Stephen as he had come to the Forest originally a few days ago) and headed for London. Claudia hooked up her iPod to her car’s stereo and started a lively playlist on shuffle, hoping it would keep her awake and alert.

Upon returning to the Home Office nearly three hours later, Claudia sent Connor and Stephen off immediately to sign the Official Secrets Act. The next three hours passed in a blur as she debriefed Lester on everything she had witnessed and experienced- including the dog tags and that she was going to have them analyzed, then sent Nick and Abby in one at a time after her to do the same. She sought out Cerise Carroll, Lorraine’s assistant, and gave her the task of taking the dog tags directly to Lorraine with discretion. She knew that Cerise admired and respected Lorraine, and that Lorraine was fond of Cerise and had high hopes for her. As such, Claudia trusted her to manage her task correctly.

When Connor and Stephen were finished with signing the OSA, she corralled them and Nick and Abby, recently finished with Lester, for an overdue lunch. By the grace of God, Lester didn’t materialize and bark orders this time around, so they were able to finish eating in peace before Stephen and Connor had to debrief Lester of their own personal experiences. As they arrived to Lester’s office, Claudia caught sight of Captain Ryan leaving, his face the kind of stony that was meant to hide exasperation and irritation. She sympathized.

Finally, finally, the majority of the legal t’s were crossed and i’s were dotted, and all that Claudia had left to do was write her report- after she spoke to the Trents and Ben’s teacher, of course, but she wasn’t going to do that today.

Lester called Nick into a conference room shortly after Connor’s debriefing was finished, and the others assembled outside in a show of support. Claudia followed and watched as the Scotsman sat down at the large round table, slumping with exhaustion, supporting his head with one hand.

“We developed the film in the camera you brought back.” Lester announced. An image appeared on the monitor, and Nick straightened in his seat.

“It’s her. It’s Helen.” The Scotsman said, the final confirmation. There was a click as the next picture came up, very similar to the first.

Claudia studied the image. It was taken up close, the main focus being an attractive woman with brown hair and eyes in her forties or early fifties, the unmistakable Permian landscape serving as a backdrop. But despite being trapped in a threatening landscape and time period, Helen seemed unbothered, even cheerful. She smiled happily, livelily, at the camera, as if enjoying herself immensely. Claudia couldn’t fathom how anyone could actually like being there, under the scorching sun and constant danger. She wore a green button-down tank top with several of the top buttons undone and a white bandana around her neck. Despite the large amount of exposed skin, she didn’t appear injured in any way, and although she was slim, she looked more lean than gaunt. Of course, this picture could’ve been taken shortly after becoming stranded there, before starvation and the elements truly affected her; or if she had met up with the soldiers at this point, she would have had access to their food and medical supplies. Hope, or company, would’ve kept loneliness and despair at bay. Still, there was something about the pictures that bothered Claudia.

The screen went dark after that, disappointing Nick and Claudia alike. There were no pictures of the military camp or of the soldiers that established it- no way of discerning their objective or home time period or identities. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she directed her gaze to Nick, who looked utterly lost, his bright eyes still locked on the screen. She felt sorry for him, but not in that sickeningly pitying way. The man had spent the last eight years believing his wife was dead, grieving and moving on as best as he could, and now before him was the proof that she hadn’t perished on that night, that she’d lived on afterward. But perhaps the pictures were only giving him false hope – it was entirely possible that Helen had died soon after they were taken, and there was no way of knowing how long after she had disappeared that they had been taken. She could have gone through the anomaly, met up with the soldiers, gotten her pictures taken by one of them, and then died within a day or so. But now any closure he may have found in the near-decade since her disappearance was gone, voided, and if she was dead in some other time period, it was highly likely that he would never know and forever wonder what had happened to her.

“I’m sorry for your personal loss, Professor.” Lester said, placing the screen remote on the tabletop. Claudia couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not. “This camp you discovered- there were no clues as to who made it or what it was for?”

Nick shook his head. “Nothing conclusive as of yet.” Claudia responded. “There was a chocolate bar in one of the cases, and its packaging was in English. And the dog tags I took off the remains we found seem to be Canadian, but I haven’t heard back on their analysis yet.”

Lester nodded. “Inform me when you do. The thought that someone’s been there before us is far from reassuring. And I used to think the EU Common Agricultural Policy was far-fetched.” Nick and Claudia exchanged matching looks of irritation. “Still, at least the immediate crisis is over.”

The paleontologist pushed to his feet, striding over to the window. “Some force out there ripped the boundaries of space and time to shreds.” He began, his accent thick. “Maybe it’s happened before, in which case, every single thing we thought we knew about the universe is wrong. Or, this is the first time, in which case, what changed? What happens next? Believe me, it’s very, very far from over.”

With that, he marched out of the room, breezing past both government officials and leaving them to contemplate the fallout of his statements. She wanted nothing more for him to be wrong. She wanted to go back to her boring government job where she did mundane task that made plenty of sense in the normal world order and logic and protocol served as her autopilot. She never wanted to see another anomaly again, or a prehistoric creature outside of a museum.

But Claudia was a lot smarter than she appeared to be, and she did not appear to be stupid. She knew that this had happened before- Helen Cutter had gone through it eight years ago and been stranded and photographed in the Permian. Once is a fluke, a bizarre improbability. But twice is suspicious, and even if that anomaly only ever opened every eight years in the same place, it would happen again, Claudia was certain of it.

She knew that Professor Nick Cutter spoke the truth: it was very, very far from over. Phenomena of this magnitude- with this consistency, dubious as it was- were no minor inconvenience, no laughing matter. It would require a substantial amount of government funding, the involvement of at least half a dozen (ideally; realistically, at least ten or fifteen) high-ranking government officials (higher ranking than her, that is), a large and qualified team of scientists, and an at-the-ready, well-trained military contingent.

It was going to be a bitch and a half to cover up.

“Scottish. They’re mad, all of them. Always making mountains out of molehills and blaming everyone else for it.” Sir Lester griped. “A twinkling doorway in Gloucester and a paleontologist thinks the scientific laws of the world have gone mad!” Lester ranted, laughing with a mix of incredulity and annoyance.

Claudia found herself echoing what she’d told the professor barely twenty-four hours ago. “You didn’t see what we saw. You don’t know what we know.” She murmured, looking down at her fingernails. A few stubborn grains of Permian earth had remained jammed underneath them, which she fully intended to remedy later. No amount of reports, of photographs could have the same impact as standing under that younger sun in the blazing heat of the Late Permian, surrounded by ferns and pines and Scutosauri and Coelurosauravus; or as pawing through prehistoric earth to discern the identity of a long-dead soldier out of time, touching his bones.

Claudia didn’t regret going with Professor Cutter and Captain Ryan. She stood by her decision and her reasons for it. She may have played a part in getting Nick (and, by extension, Ryan) back alive, and she doubted giving the timing that either of them would have recovered the dog tags without her. But that hour spent two hundred-something million years ago had changed her. She had seen impossible things and experienced a significant shift in her worldview, and quite literally gotten her hands dirty and touched death in that place. She had never been as aloof as Sir Lester (who was actually quite down-to-earth, hardworking, and caring compared to some she’d met), but from the moment that her teenage self had decided firmly that she would work for the government, she hadn’t been soft either. Calamity and crisis could not be allowed to affect her; hysteria and death must bounce off her with no impact. Calm and level heads were essential when chaos struck, rising above the emotionally tumultuous public and shaping events into the best possible outcome for Great Britain and her people.

“You disagree?” Sir Lester asked.

She nodded. “I do.”

“Alright then, Miss Brown, what is your view on these anomalies?” Lester queried. His expression indicated he was humoring her for the hell of it rather than actually being interested in her opinion.

“Well, if we’re very lucky, the anomaly only opens every eight years or so, and in that same area every time.” Claudia began. “But if Professor Cutter is right and anomalies are tied to ancient myths from all across the world, this may have only been the tip of the iceberg. We could have found one of hundreds, perhaps thousands of anomalies that have opened over time. This anomaly has opened at least twice; the photographs of Helen Cutter prove that. What if every anomaly opens twice? Or three times? Four? What then? Three creatures that we know of came through this time- the Coelurosauravus Rex, a Scutosaurus, and a Gorgonopsid. Two of them were deemed harmless and Rex was mistaken for Draco Volans, but the Gorgonopsid nearly killed several people.” She swallowed. For a moment, she was back in the dark Forest, a lamp blinding her from above and a monster stalking toward her.

“Claudia?” Sir Lester’s voice broke her from her reverie. Her head snapped up, her eyes and ears filling with the Home Office again. Her eyes darted to Lester, who was watching her carefully.

“Apologies, sir.” She said. Immediately their respective masks slipped back into place once more. “As I was saying, although we were very lucky, we may not always be. We need to be prepared for the entirely plausible eventuality that this will happen again, with a greater and far more negative impact than this time.”

Sir Lester nodded pensively. “What then do you suggest?”

“A response team, sir. Someone from the Home Office coordinating, a military presence, and experts that can study the anomalies and at the very least identify any creatures that come through them.”

The faintest edge of a smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. “And I suppose you’ll be suggesting Captain Ryan, Professor Cutter, Stephen Hart, Connor Temple, Abby Maitland, and yourself?”

It was a little embarrassing how easily he’d deduced that. “Not out of any desire for self-aggrandizement, sir. I’ve seen those creatures; traveled through an impossible doorway to hundreds of millions of years in the past and seen- touched- the remnants of a campsite there. Captain Ryan saved Professor Cutter and I from the professor’s… dedication… to his wife; Ms. Maitland has knowledge and practical experience with animals; Mr. Hart is a skilled tracker, proficient with weapons, and seems to have some knowledge of prehistoric times; and Professor Cutter and Mr. Temple are both even better-versed in the past and its inhabitants. I think it would be… counterproductive… to dismiss the experience and knowledge already available to us. Also, they’ve all signed the Official Secrets Act; the more people we bring in on this only further expands the web, whereas utilizing those already involved would be more resourceful.”

He nodded again. “Thank you for your input, Claudia. You may go.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, rushing out as professionally as she could. The others had all disappeared, which she couldn’t blame them for. She longed to go home, but there was just a little she had left to do.

Lorraine was sitting at her desk as usual, dressed smartly and typing rapidly. Her eyes never left the computer monitor as Claudia approached, though a soft smile spread across her pretty face. A few seconds before Claudia reached the desk, Lorraine ceased typing, saving and closing whatever she was doing with a few clicks of the mouse.

“So, how was the Permian?” She asked as Claudia stopped beside her desk.

Claudia blew out a very unladylike breath, grabbing a chair from an unoccupied desk and dragging it over to sit in. “Hot. Dry. Pretty, I guess, but I like England better. I know I should be disappointed that the anomaly closed and we can’t send in a science team and learn more, but I’m glad it’s shut. There were none of those Gorgonopsid monstrosities on the other side that I could see, but we weren’t safe there. I didn’t feel safe there for a moment, even before we found the camp. I didn’t think that Captain Ryan was incapable of protecting me, that’s not what I’m saying,” she clarified, “but one man- even one highly trained man with two guns- cannot fend off all the dinosaurs of that era. He cannot surmount volcanoes or other natural disasters. I’m glad to be back.”

Lorraine smiled, genuinely. “And I’m glad you’re back- in one piece and not in a body bag, that is. I would’ve been quite cross with you if the disclaimer I’d printed out for you became necessary.”

Claudia chuckled. “Only because it would’ve been a lot of paperwork, eh?”

“Oh, of course.”

“The soldier who accompanied you and the professor into the Permian, Captain Ryan,” Lorraine began, “I’ve met him.” She tapped her pen against the desktop, irritation twitching a muscle in her jaw. “The Gulf War didn’t even last seven months but it inflicted such a deep impact… I won’t tell you what he told me when we met at the OVA, but I know it scarred him. He joined the Army when he was only seventeen. But he’s a good man, kind. Funny, too. I’m glad it was him that went with you.”

“I’m glad too.” Agreed Claudia. “He was remarkably calm about the whole thing. I’ve felt like I was tumbling down the rabbit hole ever since we came across that Scutosaurus, but he acted like he went through anomalies every day. It was nice to have a levelheaded presence – God knows Professor Cutter wasn’t going to fill that role.” Lorraine snorted in amused concurrence. “I trusted him to get us back safely, and he did. Deserves a bloody medal for convincing Cutter to leave of his own volition. All the medals.” She shook her head, banishing the memories of the chest-tightening panic she’d felt as she and Ryan had desperately pressured and coaxed and bargained with the Scotsman to not condemn them to that terrible fate. “Did you make any discoveries with the dog tags?”

“I did, actually.” Lorraine replied. “They’re Canadian, as you said. They belong to one Major Daniel Douglas of the Canadian Army. Unfortunately, like all things involving military, government, or foreign affairs, it’s not that simple.”

Claudia frowned. “No?”

Lorraine sighed. “No. He’s still very much alive, and a Lieutenant, no less. Like in our Army, that’s two ranks lower than Major.”

Claudia pulled out the nearest unoccupied office chair and sank into it. “Is it possible they’re just covering up his death?”

Lorraine shook her head. “No. I talked him and a dozen or so others into letting him have a video call with me. He matches the pictures I found on the ‘net perfectly. I asked him a handful of obscure questions, like the names of his teachers or classmates. He got them all right. I went through CCTV footage in the towns and cities he frequents and picked him up hundreds of times. I scoured the web for obituaries of men who looked even vaguely like him and explored all those avenues thoroughly. It’s him, Claudia.”

It was Claudia’s turn to sigh deeply. “So whatever led him through the anomaly to the Permian to die in that camp hasn’t happened yet, and probably won’t for several years if he needs to ascend two ranks before he does.”

Lorraine nodded sagely. “I’m going to put into my report that there were no definitive or informational findings, which is true enough. We still don’t know why he was there, or when. We don’t know if one of these doorways opened in Canada and led to the Permian, or if he got there from England. We don’t know what year of the future he will have achieved the rank of Major. We don’t know enough to risk negative relations with Canada.”

She picked up the dog tags, wrapping the chain around the tags themselves, and extended them to Claudia. “Take them. If you face consequences for having them, you can blame me for it. That should silence most.”

“And you’ve got favors and blackmail to silence the rest?” Claudia guessed with a knowing smirk. Lorraine’s answering smile was deceptively sweet. “Thank you, Lorraine. For everything. I’ll make this up to you.”

“Legally, please, if only to spare us both the paperwork.” Lorraine replied primly, and shot her a more genuine smile as she returned to her work. Claudia returned the grin, heading back down the hall again.

17:16 / 5:16 p.m.

Claudia had not finished writing her report, but she had gotten a good chunk of it done, and when she’d talked to Ben Trent and his teacher she would add that to the report and finally be done with it. She had included the discovery of the tags in her report, but mirrored Lorraine’s by claiming there were no informative or definite findings. They sat in a resealable plastic bag in the menstrual supplies pouch at the bottom of her purse, safely hidden from detection. She would hide them better when she went home.

She took the tube home, holding her purse close to her chest and leaning against one of the poles with half-lidded eyes for fear that if she sat, she’d fall asleep in her seat. Mercifully, it was a Saturday, so it was neither as jammed full nor as unpleasant as it was during weekdays.

The station was a fifteen-minute walk, if she was somewhat brisk, from her house, but her battered feet and exhaustion compelled her to take a cab. Nearly falling asleep in the backseat, she was glad she hadn’t driven herself home.

A frozen pizza went in the oven, and Claudia rinsed herself off in the shower before pouring herself a glass of wine, lighting some candles, and settling into a relaxing bath in her clawfoot tub. It was so cliché and stereotypical that Claudia had initially been against it, but when she tried it with the intention of disproving its comfort, she ended up loving it. She drew the line at bubbles, though. They were a pain in the arse to clean up.

Claudia propped her feet up at the other end of the tub, wiggling her toes gently to stretch her blistered foot out of the cramped position it had spent the last few days in. Scrutinizing them over the top of her wine glass as she sipped from it, she halfheartedly considered painting them. It’s not like anyone would see them if she did as she always wore close-toed shoes and nylons or stockings, and there were no office rules against toenail or fingernail polish, as long as the latter wasn’t ostentatious.

The wine was expensive, but its flavor far bested the cheap middle-shelf wines most people bought, and she only drank it on special occasions or stressful days, like the last few had been. Claudia was no connoisseur of wines, nor could she list out the different notes and flavors of her drink of choice without reading them off the bottle’s back label, but she enjoyed its rich taste and how it sat on her palate. It relaxed her, and relaxation was her goal tonight. She could face work and the chaos of the last few days again in the morning.

The dog tags- which she’d taken to mentally referring to as ‘Schrödinger’s tags’ as they didn’t exist yet, did exist, and had existed for a very long time all at once- had been secreted within her house. She had dragged one of her bedside tables away from its place in the corner of her bedroom, used a knife to pull up the carpeting in that spot, and laid the tags underneath. She’d then pressed the carpet back down, going to far as to glue it into place once more, and slid the nightstand into its previous spot. For good measure, she’d slid a photo album under the nightstand. Now a four-inch-thick compilation of her youngest years guarded the tags.

The timer she’d set for the pizza went off in the kitchen, and with a sigh she left her bath, padding in slipper-clad feet into the kitchen to keep her dinner from burning. She plated three slices on a medium-sized platter, forgoing traditional plates, grabbed her wine bottle and glass and sat down on her sofa. She swaddled herself cozily in a thick fleece and flannel blanket and turned on the telly, switching to BBC One. Last she recalled, the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey along with several characters on a parallel Earth were about to be deleted by the Cybermen. It would certainly be interesting to see how they got out of that one.

Author’s notes: The SOLE reason I included Claudia canonically tripping and falling was so I could later say that she had felt safe in his arms. The OVA is the Office for Veterans’ Affairs and is a branch of the Cabinet Office, according to Google. I believe the American equivalent is the VA (Veterans’ Affairs). A headcanon of mine is that Claudia is a Doctor Who fan. If you look up the original UK airdates for the episodes, Series 2 Episode 6 ‘The Age of Steel’ premiered on May 20th, 2006. If it wasn’t obvious, the friend and colleague Claudia says might kill Nick and Stephen is Lorraine. Gee, I wonder what was going on during that phone call…. What Lorraine says in Spanish: “Shut him up, please.” I am not a native Spanish speaker and I used Google translate so if I’m wrong please forgive me and let me know. I’m definitely of the same mind as other fanfic writers when it comes to Lorraine, and it’s actually kind of nice to write a character as powerful, for lack of a better term, as more of a side character than the main character. According to an interview with Lorraine’s actress, Alexandra Afryea (who acted under the name Claire Spence while filming Primeval for reasons I don’t know), she actually knew Mark Wakeling (Captain Ryan) from The Actors Temple, and she started watching Primeval to support him. This fun fact inspired me to make Lorraine and Ryan have at least crossed paths before, and I look forward to combining the Claudia/Ryan and Claudia/Lorraine friendships I had already planned on writing. Also, primeval.fandom.com has a whole page dedicated to Nick’s green jacket. Why? I don’t know. It’s handy though. Cerise is a very minor but entirely canon character from Primeval; she appears in a few episodes of S4 and S5 and is Lester’s assistant. Lester calls her by name in S4E1 when they’re picking up the mess that Princess made in his office (“Just collect them in a pile, Cerys, and I'll sort through them later.”) If you’ve read Ocean Eyes, my MerMay 2022 AU, you may recognize Cerise’s name from Chapter 14 and the epilogue. She’s not very important right now and I don’t know if I’ll really take her character anywhere new, but at the very least we know that Lorraine’s assistant will one day be Lester’s assistant at the ARC. She’s portrayed by Jacqui Carroll, which is where I got her character’s surname. ALSO, a timeline note: The newspaper photo of the Gorgonopsid has the date 05/17/06 – May 17th, 2006. I went with the assumption that since the episode starts in the morning, the picture was taken the day before, so the present-day portion of the show starts on May 18th. The next day is the bulk of the episode, and then the last day of the first episode (featured in this chapter) would therefore be the 20th of May, which I mentioned briefly above in regards to the Doctor Who episode. Now, this won’t matter unless you’ve seen Primeval: New World (SPOILERS AHEAD!), but I found it interesting. In Truth, Ange says that 05-20-80 is Brooke Cross’ birthday, meaning that this episode takes place partly on her birthday. In the finale, we find out that Brooke died in September 2006, which means that the third day of this episode takes place on Brooke Cross’ last birthday. I’m sure it was a coincidence, but I thought it was interesting.

@witchofthemidlands @whatkindofnameisvolta @chocolatesawfish @whispers-of-gallifrey @thegingergal

Series Masterlist

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suchananewsblog · 2 years ago

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Ghosted Trailer: Chris Evans and Ana de Armas reunite for a sexy and slick romantic action-entertainer - Times of India

The Chris Evans and Ana de Armas just got bigger with the launch of their latest romantic-comedy ‘Ghosted’. The stars who were first seen together in ‘Knives Out’ and later in the Russo Brothers’ ‘The Gray Man’ reunited for this Dexter Fletcher’s directorial venture that has it all – romance, action, adventure and comedy. Shedding his superhero avatar, Chris takes on the role of the love-struck…

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#ana de armas #Chris Evans #Ghosted #john wick #kathleen turner #michael douglas #Scarlett Johansson #the gray man

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aurorawest · 2 years ago

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Reading update

Based on the cover, I was originally pretty skeptical of this book, but then I read all of Roan Parrish's other books and now she's one of my favorite authors. This is one of her earlier books (maybe her first? not sure) but it's really good. It's got my favorite things—complicated relationship with father and brothers + traumatized young man who doesn't know how to love himself. Also gay sex. Genuinely though, I really loved Daniel's and Rex's love story.

Now this one surprised me. This was an Illumicrate book which I fully expected to not enjoy, because the summary didn't sound very interesting. But it was GREAT. Listen, my opinion that will get me canceled is that I typically don't read books with female protagonists anymore, because they're so often written horribly. This book has wonderfully written women. The world is really unique and cool, and it was just generally an interesting take on the When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it trope.

I read Young Mungo (Douglas Stuart's second novel) last year and loved it, so I snatched this book up when I found it used in my local bookstore. It was pretty much exactly what I expected: sad but lovely. I enjoyed Young Mungo more, but that's because I enjoy romance more than mother-son relationships. It's not a knock on this book at all, which is a devastating portrayal of a child trying to parent his alcoholic mother. Anyway yeah, read it. And read Young Mungo, too.

This was such a fun read! It doesn't break any new ground and it's completely predictable, but that's fine, it's an adorable YA romcom, and the point is to see the end coming from a mile away. I laughed out loud quite a few times as I was reading, and I was definitely rooting for Micah and Elliot. I also am always a sucker for stories that have an evils-of-fame storyline.

So this is a series that I used to love. It's very All Creatures Great and Small, only it's with human doctors and it takes place in Northern Ireland in the 1960s. I don't know if it's that my tastes have changed or if the series just isn't as good anymore, but I really didn't enjoy this book. At all. Patrick Taylor is...not actually a very good writer? Like he's constantly clumsily info-dumping and it drove me crazy in this book. The others must have been the same way but I probably overlooked it because I enjoyed them more.

The sequel to In the Middle of Somewhere, which follows Daniel's older brother Colin. Which was a brave fucking move on Parrish's part, because in In the Middle of Somewhere, Colin is a horrible asshole to Daniel. He's cruelly picked on Daniel ever since Daniel was a young teen, and without going into a lot of details, it was all pretty homophobic (to the point of a physical altercation). He's just a dick, basically.

Anyway, I guess I can't really talk about this one without spoiling the first one, but as it turns out, Colin is gay, has known it for many years, knew it when Daniel came out to him, and was still a dick for all that time. He is very very closeted and wants to please his father EVEN MORE than Daniel does in the first book. I actually like this one even more than the first book, because Parrish takes this character who is nasty and awful and turns the whole thing around. It's really a master class in unreliable narration (CS Pacat might be the only other author I can think of who pulls it off this well). Colin's and Rafael's love story is really beautiful, too.

Ginn Hale! Gay demons! Fantasy noir! Blood! Hurt/comfort! What's there not to like!

This is actually two novellas in one book. The first novella is from Belimai's (the demon's) POV, and is a mystery. The second is a sequel from Harper's (the detective's) POV and deals with the fallout from the first novella. I absolutely loved both but that's not saying anything because I love everything Ginn Hale writes.

This book was weird as hell but really good. The basic plot is, two young men help a goddess escape captivity, but that just like...does not do it justice. The beauty of this book is in its prose and its weirdness. And its slow burn romance. Highly recommended, but it's not light reading. Also isn't that cover gorgeous? I spent a lot of time just staring at it.

Like the cover says, the prequel to They Both Die at the End. It's not as good. And there was some really forced plot stuff that made me roll my eyes. Still a decent read, especially if you liked the first one.

I'm currently reading this one! I'm already loving how it's building on the events of the second book, and appreciated the wonderfully gory opening, haha.

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alovelywaytospendanevening · 3 months ago

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Lit Hub: How Oscar Wilde Created a Queer, Mysterious Symbol in Green Carnations

In London in 1892, everybody—or, at least, everybody who was anybody—was talking about one thing: green carnations. Nobody was sure, exactly, what wearing a green carnation meant, or why it had suddenly become such a deliciously scandalous, dazzlingly fashionable sartorial statement. All anybody knew was that one day, at a London theater, someone important (stories differed as to who exactly it was) wore a green carnation, or maybe it had been a blue one (stories differed about that too).

Green carnations may have had something to do with sexual deviance. They may also have had something to do with the worship of art. And the whole thing somehow had to do with Oscar Wilde, the flamboyant playwright, novelist, and fame-courting dandy who—as he never tired of telling the press—put his talent into his work but put his genius into his life. Wilde lived his life as a work of art (or let people think he did). The affair of the green carnation gives us a little glimpse into how.

One story about what exactly happened comes from the painter Cecil Robertson, who recounts his version in his memoirs. According to Robertson, Wilde was keen to drum up publicity for his latest play, Lady Windermere’s Fan. A character in the play, Cecil Graham—an elegant and witty dandy figure who rather resembled Wilde himself—was ostensibly going to wear a carnation onstage as part of his costume. And Wilde wanted life to resemble art.

“I want a good many men to wear them tomorrow,” Wilde allegedly told Robertson. “People will stare…and wonder. Then they will look round the house [theater] and see every here and there more and more little specks of mystic green”—a new and inexplicable fashion statement. And then, Wilde gleefully insisted, they would start to ask themselves that most vital of questions: “What on earth can it mean?”

Robertson evidently ventured to ask Wilde what, exactly, the green carnation did mean.

Wilde’s response? “Nothing whatsoever. But that is just what nobody will guess.”

Within days, carnations were everywhere. Just two weeks later, a newspaper covering the premiere of another play, this one by Théodore de Banville, reported a bizarre phenomenon: Wilde in the audience, surrounded by a “suite of young gentlemen all wearing the vivid dyed carnation which has superseded the lily and the sunflower,” two flowers that had previously been associated with Wilde and with fashionable, flamboyant, and sexually ambiguous young men more generally.

A little over a week after that, a London periodical published another piece on this mysterious carnation. It is a dialogue between Isabel, a young woman, and Billy, an even younger dandy—heavily implied to be gay—about the flower, which Billy has received as a gage d’amour (the French is tactfully untranslated) from a much older man. Billy shows off his flower to the curious Isabel with the attitude of studied nonchalance: “Oh, haven’t you seen them?…. Newest thing out. They water them with arsenic, you know, and it turns them green.”

The green carnation is something desperately exciting, understood not by ordinary society women but by Brummell-style dandies, shimmering with hauteur. It’s deliciously dangerous, perhaps even a tad wicked; the carnations are colored with poison, after all. It’s also, in every sense of the word, a little bit queer.

The green carnation’s appeal as a symbol of something esoteric persisted. Two years after the premiere of Lady Windermere’s Fan, an anonymous author—later revealed to be the London music critic Robert Hichens—published The Green Carnation, a novel that appears to be very obviously based on Oscar Wilde’s real-life homosexual relationship with the much younger Lord Alfred “Bosie” Douglas.

The Green Carnation, though it is certainly a satirical exaggeration, can tell us much about this strange, new class of young men cropping up not only in London but also in Paris, Copenhagen, and so many other European capitals during the nineteenth century: the dandy. Inheritors of the mantle of Beau Brummell but far more flamboyant in their affect—John Bull would certainly have turned around to look at them in the street—these modern dandies didn’t just live their lives artistically.

These dandies believed—or at least made out that they believed—that the highest calling a person could have was a careful cultivation of the self: of clothing, sure, and of hairstyle, but also of gesture, of personality. And behind that belief lay a kind of bitter nihilism, as poisonous as arsenic itself. Nothing meant anything, unless you decided it did. A green carnation could signify homosexual desire, or aesthetic dandyism, or “nothing whatsoever,” depending on your mood and what you felt like conveying to the world that morning.

(Full article)

#oscar wilde #robert hichens #the green carnation #history #gay history #lgbt history #lgbtq history #gay #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lit #literature #gay literature #lgbt literature #lgbtq literature #victorian #19th century

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akihabara-division03 · 7 months ago

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How the OC’s Beat The Heat at Home

Taking a shower every four hours: Kisouna Yuzairu (Sakura Clan), Tomi Chōten (Jet Set Trio), Mireya Quinlan (Private Party), Maki Umemoto (山茶花 Zombeez), Kaiji Sano (Lovesick), Joey Kurusu (Justice Shield), Keiko Yumi (Otaku Corps), Fleuret Otoshiro (Blaid Maiden)

Puts a fan in every room: Anika Kiyozaki (Pixel Syndicate), Alexis Ward (Sounds of Silence), Yano Ietsuna (ECO BooN), Kureha Koizumi (Femme Fatale), Sakura Kito (Silent Tragedy), Akihisa Mashiro (Death Row Block), Seiji Tsukimoto (Valor Guard), Asahi Tomoharu (Miraitabi), Kunio Chōten (Strange Magic), Meari Miracle (Oculus), Criss Hiromi (Otaku Corps), Evelyn Rose (Liberty Guild)

Infinite uses of the air conditioning: Queen Card (R.I.P Märchen), Reiaki Suzubayashi (R.I.P Märchen), Aranai Norikoru (Sakura Clan), Kensaku Morimoto (ECO BooN), Miho Kobayashi (CodeX), Wataru Sasaki (Justice Shield), Yuriko Kuromiya (Wicked Requiem), Reika Aichi (Silent Tragedy), Lyall Shiba (Valor Guard), Saigo Fuyugami (Miraitabi), Aoba Yamamura (Strange Magic), Reiji Enjouji (Diabolik Love), Ayame Kurokawa (Diabolik Love), Yorii Sakuma (ENIGMA)

Lots of cold drinks: Miku Shirazuki (R.I.P Märchen), Zakari Hiroya (Private Party), Asato Rikiya (ECO BooN), Shuu Edogawa (山茶花 Zombeez), Sayaka Miyuki (Femme Fatale), Ren Nakashima (Lovesick), Kyler Aaron (Justice Shield), Kanra Akemi (Wicked Requiem), Ayumu Hayami (Valor Guard), Yuuya Kanata (Miraitabi), Natsume Kurome (Strange Magic), Ruka Shiina (Howling Moon), Kaede Iwasawa (Trickstar), Nikki Yoshie (Otaku Corps), Ace Douglas (Liberty Guild), Rashaad Young (Liberty Guild), Eldrid Iwasaki (Blade Maiden), Ted Bridges (Kuma no Ie)

Banning the use of clothes: Shian Meizono (Pixel Syndicate), Karada Kessaku (Jet Set Trio), Hoàng Diệu (Sounds of Silence), Ryuko Umemoto (山茶花 Zombeez), Hisoka Tetsuma (Veiled Vanguard), Lola Takahashi (Femme Fatale), Max Soukoku (Lovesick), Touya Kisaragi (Death Row Block), Eden Yamamura (Trickstar), Aika Yumi (Oculus)

Actually living in only the few cold hours of the day: Makina Setsukura (Pixel Syndicate), Kai Quinlan (Private Party), Daiki Kamiyama (Veiled Vanguard), Sumire Shinomiya (CodeX), Kaoru Shinozaki (Wicked Requiem), Kanon Hojo (Silent Tragedy), Kei Himeno (Diabolik Love), Hisui Meguno (Howling Moon), Nadya Kuromiya (Oculus), Mina Nakayama (ENIGMA), Kotan Anchikar (Kuma no Ie), Kokomi Morozov (Kuma no Ie)

Stands Still: Shisuta Heisha (Sakurai Clan), Luis Kōkyū (Jet Set Trio), Ivelisse Martinez (Sounds of Silence), Jack Verrill (Veiled Vanguard), Ritsuko Okada (CodeX), Rintaro Himura (Death Row Block), Aoi Yamamura (Howling Moon), Nellie Yukimura (Trickstar), Elliot Shimizu (ENIGMA), Azusa Furukawa (Blade Maiden)

@akihabara-division03 @uenodivision @aoyama-division @arakawa-division @roppongi-division @toyama-division @suginami-division @obihiro-division @saitama-division @shinagawa-division @kobedivision @kanazawa-division @edogawa-division @shizuokadivision @katsushika-division @niigata-division @naradivision @kumamoto-division @hamamatsu-divison @kofu-division @aomori-division @minato-division01 @akihabaradivision @setagaya-division @okinawa-division @taito-division @hakodate-division

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic arb #hypmic arb #meme chart

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hemlockwilde · 4 months ago

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I first wrote this song back in 2019, and it's gone under a lot of transformation since then. It's also been a long time since I last uploaded an original song, and I've missed it as much as getting back into it has terrified me.

My songwriting capabilities have changed a lot but I still take inspiration in my story-telling from other stories that have come before mine. Here my cultural touchpoints have been Ziggy Stardust, Rocketman, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency – both the 2016 show and the original books by Douglas Adams, from which comes the wonderful word 'psychosassic' – and of course, the Greek myth of Icarus. In my version Icarus made his own wings, his act of hubris was motivated by an all-encompassing desire for freedom, and he survived.

Icarus is one of a number of songs I've been putting together for my first EP.

LYRICS below cut:

I was the kid who chased the rainbow, always looking for the end I was the lonely child who loved the wild things but had no friends I grew up in a labyrinth and found my way with string What a clever boy to build himself a pair of broken wings Hubris laid its claim on me ‘fore I was even grown And into my embroidery these shapes and patterns sewn I made a bid for freedom and I bid my home goodbye Although my father warned me I would fall into the sky Oh, Icarus Icarus, what have you done now? What a mess What a mess you are become now Flying far too high, you’re gonna fall into the sun Oh, Icarus These flights of fancy have their foolish ends I’ve dabbled deep in palmistry and psychosassic paths But it seems I only ever draw the Fool in Tarot cards Always teetering on cliff edges and dangling from strings A silly boy to trust a pair of broken, melting wings CHORUS My father says that he knows best, that I should let it be These wicked thoughts of all I’ve sought are not for boys like me My impulses are wild, they need to be reined in And naive boys get just deserts unless you clip their wings Oh, Icarus Icarus, you’re falling still now From above Our prophecy has been fulfilled now Soaring far too low, you’re gonna sink into the sea Falling into patterns like we told you so and so shall be And tell us, was it worth it? Just to see the sea and sky? Oh Icarus This unearned confidence will your – “Icarus” So they’ve told me, so I’ve been But look at this Icarus has learned to swim Flying through the foam, and I will finally be free Feathers all around me leaving patterns on the sea And Icarus is smiling as he sings into the wind Oh, Icarus Oh, Icarus Oh, Icarus These flights of fancy always were my friends

#music #original music #SoundCloud

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assortedseaglass · 2 years ago

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The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Nine

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, sexual assault, World on Fire spoilers.

Word Count: 7K

Note: Oh boy, this chapter is a *juicy* one. I’ve put in the warnings sexual assault, the scene will not be graphic but the warning is there. Please take care if you find this sort of thing triggering. Here we go pals…

New Year’s Eve 1939

The tinkling of laughter drifted through the open bedroom door, and Cora giggled from her seat at the vanity table.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it? Hearing them altogether.”

Bess hummed and watched her sister carefully tuck hair behind her headscarf. She looked just like Etta. It was 8 in the morning, and the two girls were readying themselves for a day of work. Dot was dressed and downstairs, talking to their father and Albie, the third Vaughn child, returned from war.

On the bed, Bess sat with her feet curled beneath her bottom as she read Tom’s last letter for the hundredth time. It was dated 13th December 1939. He had written it the day the Exeter was hit.

“Makes me less scared of dying. I’m just one bloke.”

What if he was dead? Had he been scared? Was it quick or did he die in a drawn-out frenzy of screams and terror? Bess screwed her eyes shut and pinched the back of her hand. The tears that threatened to fall disappeared.

“I’ve told the lads all about the dark-haired Vaughn girl and they’d love to get a look at you. You know you’re gorgeous –“

From behind the letter, Bess revealed the photograph of Tom. He thought she was gorgeous. Him, with his mischievous blue eyes and boyish smile, the curve of his lips and his broad shoulders. His height and his strength. His iron will and cocksure swagger. Tom Bennett thought Bess Vaughn was gorgeous. She blushed and looked at the mirror to examine herself. Cora was looking back at her.

“No telegram is good news, Bess,” she seemed to know what Bess was doing, what she was thinking. “We all miss him.”

Bess placed the letter in the biscuit tin, shoved it under the bed and ran downstairs without a word. When she entered, Albie moved a plate of toast towards her.

“Not for me,” though she kissed the top of his head all the same. “What are you doing with your day?”

“Going to see some of the other lads. Might pay poor Walter Watson a visit, see how he’s holding up.” The Vaughn children smirked, for Fergal had no idea just how Walter had broken his arm. “Then, of course, the new year dance.” Albie grabbed Dot and swung her around the kitchen, her shrieks and laughter near rattling the china.

“You enjoy yourselves my darlings.” Fergal said from his perch by the stove. His face was pale and his eyes were tired. He had been to see Douglas Bennett the night previous and had returned home on the milk float. Still, he was happy to have Albie home and that was all Bess could ask for. Almost.

Cora edged down the stairs, lipstick and hair perfectly in place. Ever since Roger came along, Cora had been glowing. Bess smiled at the sight of her older sister. She was in love, and my God, did she deserve it.

“Ready, Vaughns? Minus you Albie, of course.” Cora called to the kitchen at large.

“Can’t believe they’re making you work on New Year’s Eve.”

“No rest for the wicked,” said Bess, shouldering her satchel.

“And you’re the wickedest of them all,” Albie said and Bess pinched his belly. From the corner of the kitchen, Dot sniffled. They all turned to her.

“It’s so good to have you home, Albie.” She burst into tears. Bess and Albie laughed as he moved towards his little sister.

“Stop being soft. You’re eighteen now!” He wrapped his arm around her. “Come on, I’ll walk you to work.” And together, the five Vaughns stepped into the December day, each feeling the hope of the new year more fully than ever before. From across the street, Lois watched the family smiling and laughing together as they walked to work arm in arm. Behind her, Douglas sat at the kitchen table, the newspaper and cereal before him untouched.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

“It’s so wonderful to have all the boys back, isn’t it?” Queenie Warren’s girlish voice carried across the canteen, echoing Cora’s sentiment from the morning. Bess stared at her spam sandwich and placed it back in its brown paper. “Well. Most of the boys.” Queenie corrected herself and dabbed away a crocodile tear. Bess’ mouth curled in disgust at her overt display of despair for Tom, and Roberta elbowed her in the ribs.

“How’s Frank, Queenie?” Roberta asked her.

“Hm?” Queenie looked across at her, unused to being addressed by the fearsome girl. “Oh, he’s grand. Taking me to the dance tonight. Will you both be there?” Bess and Roberta nodded. “And Hattie too? I’m looking forward to meeting this fella of hers. Shame Jude can’t be there. Who are you two going with?”

Queenie knew full well that no men had asked Bess and Roberta. “My brother.”

“Oh,” Queenie said sweetly. “Isn’t that lovely.”

“Christ,” Roberta muttered and Bess laughed sadly.

The bell rang, signalling the end of their lunch break, and the three women made their way back to the warehouse floor. Bess inched closer to Roberta and whispered in her ear.

“If I push her off the wing, you run her over with the truck.” Roberta guffawed and Bess winked. “See you later.”

If she discounted Queenie’s girlish social commentary, the rest of the day passed in relative ease for Bess. The foreman had a gramophone brought into the warehouse and played Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman on repeat. Bess loved American big band and was enjoying its gradual emergence in the dancehalls of Manchester. Her mind had been so filled with thoughts of Tom Bennett for the past two weeks, that she felt guilty for the anticipation growing in her stomach. But the prospect of dancing, and drinking, made Bess quiver with excitement. Maybe, for an hour or two, she could play make believe. Pretend to be happy. The remaining hour of her shift was spent imagining the compliments she would get for the dress already hanging at home. Imagining swaying in someone else’s arms, with no obligation but to share a dance with them. The bell rang.

“Bess!” Roberta was already waiting at the door. Bess jumped down the ladder from the wing, stored her tools and strolled towards her best friend. Queenie hurried passed.

“See you later, girls.” Bess gave a mock salute.

“At least with the boys back, she’ll leave us alone.” Roberta said as she offered Bess a cigarette. They exited the factory gates. The air was crisp and across the horizon, smoke funnelled from the factory chimneys. Bess admired the bleak beauty of it all, and her eyes fell on a solitary figure leant against the gate. Douglas Bennett, collar turned up against the cold, ready to pedal away on his bike, Peace Paper tucked into his bag. Seeing him there made Bess think of a Lowry painting, and she was just wondering whether she would populate the painting with more gloomy figures or leave Douglas the sole subject when Roberta shrieked.

“Albert Vaughn, put me down!”

“Good to see you, Bobbie.” Albie laughed and placed her back on the ground.

“Silly beggar,” Roberta huffed as she clutched her chest. Bess smacked her brother’s arm and left them to catch up. When she approached him, Douglas touched his cap the way he always did and Bess was utterly charmed by him.

“How are you?” she asked him. He fidgeted with the handlebars of his bike.

“No news is good news.” Behind them, Albie and Roberta laughed.

“I’m sorry, Douglas, about Albie-”

“Nonsense.” He cut her off firmly. “Don’t you dare apologise. It’d be selfish of me to wish away your happiness. God knows I’ve had enough sadness not to press it on other people.” The honest vulnerability of his statement took Bess’ breath away, and she covered his hand with her own.

“Douglas,” Albie appeared at his sister’s side and shook hands with the older man. Bess turned and saw Roberta striding down the road.

“Good to see you back, lad.” Douglas smiled warmly, and Bess was amazed at how genuine it was.

“Hop on, Bess.” Albie gestured to his own bike. “Give Douglas a break from carting you around.”

Bess opened her mouth in mock offense and Douglas laughed. “Ah, she’s alright.”

“You don’t have to lie to me Douglas, I know she’s a lump-” Bess hit his arm harder than before and Albie laughed with Douglas. She sat gracefully on the handlebars and leant back. Even through the multiple layers of coat and jumper, Bess could feel the bones of her brother’s chest. The war wasn’t being kind to him, no matter how jovial he tried to seem. In an odd way, she wished she was on Douglas’ bike instead. Bess loved resting against his broad shoulders as he cycled her home at the end of a shift and, if the wind was in the right direction, she could smell the detergent Lois used. The one that smelt like Tom.

Douglas and Albie cycled side by side the two miles from the factory to their street. At just two o’ clock, the brisk afternoon was still bright, and Bess relished the kiss of the cold on her cheeks as they sped down the ginnels and backstreets of Manchester. Albie made a point to hit every cobble, pothole and bump in the road, and Bess was giddy with glee when they turned into their street. Douglas smiled next to them as her laughter pealed through the grey day. The sound of Bess’ voice had become such a source of comfort to him over the months since Lois and Tom left. With Lois home, he hadn’t heard it for a while, and his chest swelled. Never did he think he would miss the company of quiet Bess Vaughn, or that a woman like her would want his. He took his eyes off his path for a moment to revel in Albie and Bess’ youthful joy. A flash of blue and yellow skirted his periphery. His head whipped around and the bike slammed to a halt as his foot skidded off the pedal. Shocked by Douglas’ sudden loss of control, Bess looked at him. His eyes were glazed and though she couldn’t hear, she saw him mouth one word as she and Albie passed on their bike. She gasped and followed Douglas’ eyes.

“Oh my God,”

“Christ, Bess!” Albie shouted, for Bess had tried to dismount the still moving bike. She lurched off the handlebars as it stopped unexpectedly, stumbling a little. At the sudden commotion, the source of their scuffle looked up.

Beneath the cap and sweep of blond hair, blue eyes gleamed with barely supressed satisfaction. A roguish grin spread across the man’s face, recognition flickering there as he realised he was the cause of the fuss. Moving slowly from Douglas, to Albie, his eyes landed on Bess and she blushed. The sailor pushed himself off the wall to greet the stunned party.

“Tom,” Douglas came to a standstill before his son.

“Alright, Dad? Brought you a canary.” He held up the cage and the silent trio glanced at it. Tom smirked at their confusion.

“What the fuck is that!?” Albie was first to break the silence, laughing as he grabbed Tom in an enthusiastic hug.

“Found a bird in Argentina.” The friends laughed as Douglas unlocked the door, glancing at his son every now and again in shock. Bess hadn’t moved. Couldn’t move. He was alive. Bright and brilliant and alive. And stood in front of her. Over Albie’s shoulder, Tom caught Bess’ distant, disbelieving gaze and smiled at her.

“Hi,” he said, looking her over just a little. Fuck, his voice. Fuck, he was handsome. Simultaneously, Bess wanted to kiss and slap him.

“Hi,” she breathed giddily.

“Tom,” Albie’s voice sharpened Bess’ senses and she swayed a little on the spot, arriving back at reality. “New Year’s Eve dance tonight? Your Lois is singing.”

Tom looked at Bess as he replied. “I wouldn’t miss it. What time are you going?”

“We’re leaving around eight.” Albie hadn’t seemed to notice that Tom was ignoring him. Instead, Tom’s blue eyes bore into Bess’ brown ones.

“Eight o’clock,” he whispered.

“Tom?” Douglas motioned for him to come inside.

“See you then,” he winked at Bess and disappeared. She turned and marched through their own front door.

“You alright?” Albie called up the stairs.

“Yeah, just tired. Gonna lie down.” Bess slammed the door to the small bathroom, grabbed a flannel from the linen closet and ran the faucet. She swiped the cloth under the cold tap and fumbled with her slacks and shirt. Stripping down to her underwear, she took the cloth and held it to her chest, a few trickles of icy water running between her breasts. Bess shuddered and moved the flannel between her thighs. Her head tipped forward and she fought to still her erratic breathing.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She gripped the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Despite the cold of the day and the water dripping down her legs, a pink flush covered her chest and face. Her eyes were heavy and she could feel every feather-light hair on her neck standing to attention. Slowly, she dragged her weary body into the bedroom and collapsed on top of the turned down bed. Without hesitation, without warning or without care, Bess began to laugh. Fat, salty tears welled in her eyes and fell into her hair. Hysterical sobs wracked her body and she buried her face in her pillow.

He was alive.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

“Think we’ll have to go with one rasher each.” Douglas stood frying bacon over the stove, his back to his son sat smoking at the table.

“Don’t worry, double rations when you’re under fire.”

Douglas chortled. “Give over,”

“I was cooking all the way through the battle,” Tom smirked, glad to be home and have a moment of normalcy with his dad. “Slice of my fried bread sunk a U-boat.”

Douglas flipped the bacon and remembered his own experience of war. “You don’t have to pretend to be brave for me, lad.”

“Good,” Tom spoke almost before Douglas had finished. “’Cos I’m not going back.”

“What?”

“I’m not going back, I’m deserting.” Douglas’ smile faltered. Tom wasn’t joking. “S’why I came home to you, cos I knew you’d be the one to help me.”

Ignoring the sizzle of the pan, Douglas turned to watch his son. Tom’s head was bowed as he looked at him through blond lashes, eyes sad.

“God, you look like your mother,” Douglas whispered.

“Dad. Please. Will you help me?” The sincerity of Tom’s voice scared him. Memories of nightmares clouded his mind. Images of Tom drowning. Of being shot. Of being blown into a million irrecoverable pieces. Douglas placed his hands in his pockets.

“Give me a day or two, to think of a plan. Just enjoy yourself for now, and let it from your mind.” He turned back to the stove, and the men were silent.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

It was almost as if the war was not happening. From the kitchen below, the three Vaughn girls could hear the warble of the wireless and rumbling laughs of Fergal, Albie and Roger. Roger wore his dress uniform for the occasion, powder blue and spotless. Albie, in his usual suited slacks, tie a little skewwhiff but handsome all the same. Dot had finally mastered her curling tongs and persuaded Cora into using them on her too. As ever, Bess sat smoking a cigarette in the window.

“You look like a film star,” Dot said dreamily, and Bess blew her a kiss. She knew she looked incredible. The waist of the red dress she had chosen was gathered dramatically, the skirt tightening over her bottom and falling in a straight line down her legs. It stopped narrowly above her ankles. The halter of her bodice highlighted the curve of her breasts, the Grecian straps of the capped sleeves trailed fabric down her back and revealed a daring square of pale skin. Her hair was fluffed and parted to one side (she had seen a picture of Rita Hayworth pinned up in the foreman’s office) and swept back off her shoulders. Rouge was mottled lightly on her lips, as though she had just been kissed; what with her hair and the dress, one could have too much red. The black trench coat she made last winter was hung on the door, she had seen Lauren Bacall wearing one similar. The dress she had picked before she knew Tom was home. The rest; the hair, the makeup, the severe coat and heels, she had decided on that afternoon. It was New Year’s Eve, the boys were home, and Bess Vaughn was dressed to kill.

Dot wore the dress Bess made her for her eighteenth. Pastel pink, bias cut, and adorned with a beaded flower brocade. Cora was elegant in black, waist cinched below the bust with red carnations at the hip. The Vaughns, despite their little money, were the most fashionable girls for miles. A great cheer rang from the kitchen.

“That’s Tom!” Dot cried and ran excitedly downstairs. Cora gave herself one last glance in the mirror then turned to Bess.

“What?” Her sister asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Cora winked. “Don’t forget your coat.” She left the room. Bess put out her cigarette and took a deep breath. Walking to the mirror, she donned her coat and smoothed her hair. Trying to disguise the nerves threatening to take over her body she winked at herself, grabbed her cigarettes and lipstick, and made her way into the kitchen.

“All the nice girls love a sailor, all the nice girls love a Tar,” Cora was singing affectionately as Tom twirled her around.

“We’ve got a full set tonight!” Fergal laughed. “Pilot, soldier, sailor-”

“Who’s the tinker and who’s the thief?”

Everyone turned to Bess and Tom swallowed with difficulty. At sea, he frequently imagined Bess. More often than not, he imagined her sat at the piano or sewing by the kitchen table. Sometimes she was sat smoking on the front step or giggling with her sisters. When he did something stupid or made a mischief of himself, he heard her make some sarcastic comment. But not once had he remembered her this way. Stood there on the stairs, hair glowing from the flicker of the fireplace, she looked like a goddess. Tom adjusted his trousers and took a subconscious step away from Fergal.

“Off we go!” Albie stood and clapped his hands.

“See you next year, Dadda!” Dot gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Get away with you,” he laughed. One by one the group spilled into the street. Dot chattered to Albie the whole way to the dancehall, with Cora and Roger linked arm in arm, totally unaware of anything outside their loved-up state. Bess lit a cigarette and watched the people she adored most in the world. Tom, noticing her fall behind slow his steps. His hands were in his trouser pockets as usual, though he had left behind his worn brown slacks for a navy suit.

“I know the men are always fighting over you-”

“I doubt it since I shouted at Walter Watson.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Tom said lightly and Bess smiled, glad to be back to their old ease with one another. “I know the men are always fighting over you, but save a dance for me.”

“You going soppy?” She nudged his shoulder in a feign of nonchalance, but her heart was already skipping with anticipation.

“No, but I told you, I’ll be saving my dances for Dot tonight. I owe her for her birthday.”

“Yes you do!” Dot called back to them. Tom laughed as Bess chastised her for listening. After she playfully chased Dot up the road, they fell back into step. This time, the air was heavy. Neither knew what to say.

“No Roberta tonight?” Tom rubbed his neck. He normally had more game than this…

“She’s meeting us there, with Hattie and Glen.”

“Oh yes, Hattie’s farmer fella.” The silence resumed as they rounded the corner and a throng of people appeared. Over the din, Bess heard the first few bars of a tune she didn’t know and began to tap her feet as they shuffled into the hall. Dot turned back from her position at the top of the steps and called for Tom to join her in a dance. He saluted with a smile, and made to stand next to her, when Bess caught his wrist.

“Tom,” her voice was quiet but firm. He looked at her long fingers clutching him, and the skin there prickled. “I’m glad you’re back.” Bess’ eyes were wide and teary.

“It’ll take more than the Jerries to finish me off.” Tom winked, took Dot’s hand and escorted her inside.

To Bess’ delight, the band played some of the new American hits amongst their regular tunes and, accompanied by Lois’ gentle singing, she danced the night away. Mostly, with Albie, Roger and Glen, switching with Cora and Hattie after every other song. Roberta danced only a few with her best friends, before disappearing. Breaking for a cigarette, Bess spotted her across the street sharing a close embrace with a woman she recognised as the teacher at the local primary. She smiled and left them to it. Dot still stole dances with Tom, and Bess noticed that many of the men were eyeing him warily. Clearly, they hadn’t forgotten the last time Tom Bennett graced the dancehall. She joined her brother at the bar, who was deep in conversation with Frank Smith and Walter Watson. As she approached, Walter glared and left. Albie gave Bess a look that clearly told her to play nice, and as she took a whisky from the bartender, she spoke.

“How are you, Frank? Where’s Queenie?” He looked a little sad, if Bess really considered him. His eyes were downcast in a way that reminder her of a Bassett Hound, and he was swilling the dregs of his beer around his glass.

“Oh, I can’t keep up with Queenie when it comes to this kind of thing. She’s having a dance with Tom Bennett.”

Bess turned so quickly that she hurt her neck. Sure enough, in the centre of the dancefloor, Queenie Warren was clinging onto Tom’s shoulders, pressed indecently close to his body. He was speaking in her ear and Bess sincerely hoped the closeness was due to the proximity of the dance. Whatever he said, Queenie clearly found it highly amusing as she tipped her head back and giggled. The act exposed her neck, and a little of her cleavage and Bess’ stomach lurched. She looked back to Frank. He smiled sadly. Obviously, he was just as jealous of Tom as she was of Queenie. Bess downed the whisky.

“Steady on,” Albie half laughed, half warned. “Ah, talk of the devil and she shall appear,” he muttered as Queenie Warren bounded to the bar and kissed Frank’s cheek with another giggle. Tom raised his eyebrows to Albie in relief, as though he had just diffused a bomb.

“Your turn, Miss Vaughn.” He held out a hand.

“I see the navy has turned you into a gentleman,” Bess said, eyes lowered to his hand.

“They’re trying. My God, they’re trying.” Tom smirked, and when she didn’t take his hand, he leant to take her own, eyes never leaving hers. As they walked silently to the dancefloor, both trying to hide their smiles, Lois’ voice spoke above the gentle tinkling of Connie’s piano keys.

“A slower one now, before we pick up the pace as we head towards 1940.” The crowd cheered. “I know this one will mean a lot to many of you. I think I speak on behalf of everyone here when I say how glad we are to have some of our boys back, my own brother among them.”

Bess squeezed Tom’s hand and, from the back of the hall, someone shouted, “And you, Lois!” A wolf-whistle rang out.

“You’ll be lucky to make it to 1940, Walter Watson,” Lois teased and the crowd laughed. Lois nodded to Connie, and together they led the band in a moving rendition of We’ll Meet Again.

Let's say goodbye with a smile, dear Just for a while dear we must part

Don't let this parting upset you I'll not forget you, sweetheart

Tom placed Bess’ hand on his shoulder and brought the other to wrap around her waist. Her face had turned serious, though she had not realised it. All Bess’ effort was focused on staying upright and remembering to breathe. She almost forgot both at Tom’s next statement.

“You look gorgeous.” The hand that had been on her waist moved to brush some hair from her shoulder, before going to its original position. This time, he moved Bess closer to him so that their legs were entwined as they swayed to the music.

We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

Without thinking, Bess placed her head on Tom’s shoulder and his palms grew sweaty. He caught Albie’s eye at the bar, one eyebrow raised. Slowly, Tom steered them to avoid the soldier’s scrutinising gaze. With his cheek against the top of Bess’ head, he could smell the vanilla of her shampoo and the spice of her perfume. Chanel No.5. Another present from the Manchester Atelier, worn only on special occasions.

Keep smiling through Just like you always do 'Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away

Tom hummed the chorus lowly in Bess’ ear and felt her shudder within his arms. Oh fuck. He marvelled at the effect this had on her and promised himself he’d do it again. Tantalisingly slowly, he ran a finger down the exposed curve of her spine. He heard it that time. The stuttering exhale. Once again, when his hand reached her waist, Tom pulled her closer.

“I was so scared,” she whispered into his shoulder. What the fuck was he meant to do? He was no good with this sort of thing. Feelings. Emotions. Romance? But he longed to hear what Bess had to say. Tom stilled a little but held her tight.

We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

She sniffed and looked up at him. Her eyes were brimming with tears and suddenly any trace of quiet, confident Bess vanished and she looked like that little, bullied girl again. It was too much. Queenie’s incessant laughter, the eyes of her siblings, the chatter of couples and the swell of the brass section. The scent of Tom’s cologne and the heat of his hands against her body.

“Bess-”

“This song…sorry-”

“Bess-”

“Makes me so sad. I’m sorry-” And with that, she broke away from Tom and hurried to the exit.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

Bess’ hands fumbled for her cigarette case. Her coat was still inside the dancehall, and the cold December air did nothing to ease the shaking of her hands. The alley behind the stage door was empty. Under the glow of the lamplight, Bess leant against the brick wall, the cold piercing her exposed skin but rooting her in reality.

“You look gorgeous”

She took a steadying breath and tried once more to extract a cigarette.

“We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when”

The spot where Tom held her still burned, and as she played over the last few minutes, she recalled that he had been trying to tell her something. Her hand slipped.

“Fuck,”

Bess reached down to retrieve her cigarette case, the enamel of which had split, but another hand got there first.

“Let me help you.” It was Walter Watson. Bess straightened as she watched him pull a cigarette out and hand it to her. From his own pocket he produced a lighter and struck it so that she might light her cigarette.

“Thank you,” she whispered. They said nothing more, but Walter looked at her with a wolfish gleam in his eye. Looking up and down the alley, Bess saw they were alone and fear twisted beneath her ribs. It’s just pathetic Walter Watson, you’re fine. “Your arm is looking better,” she tried.

Walter nodded and gestured to his arm, still cast but without a sling. “Yeah, not long until I’m sent back. And I can dance now.” Bess smiled, not knowing what else to do. “You owe me a dance, Bess.”

“When I’ve finished my ciga-”

“You’ve danced with every other person in there, man and woman. But you’ve avoided me.”

“Don’t be stupid, Walter, I haven’t been av-” Walter took a sudden step towards her and Bess’ head hit the wall as she tried to step away.

“Dance with me now.” At this close distance, Bess could see the slight glaze of his eyes and smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Not now, Walter. And certainly not here.” She gestured to their surroundings. “You’re drunk.” He paid her no heed, gripped her waist roughly and pulled her against him, slinging one arm around his neck.

“Just one dance,” he slurred.

“Fine,” Bess said through gritted teeth. He stumbled around, head on Bess’ shoulder, turned towards her neck; he was humming some indistinguishable tune. Walter’s weight grew heavy as he slouched against her.

“Walter, stand up.” She hissed.

“Sorry, sorry-” He grinned dopily at her, and when he stood to his full height, his eyes grew clear. He seemed to have remembered who was dancing with. “Bess Vaughn,” his eyes were dark and his smile widened. The hand that was resting on her waist slid downwards and he harshly gripped the flesh of her bottom.

“Walter,” She tried to push him away but his hold tightened. He squeezed her backside again and white-hot fury raged in her chest.

“Never thought I’d be in this position with Bess Vaughn,” he laughed a little. “That little freak from school.” Bess struggled to push him off her again. “Then you came back from Manchester with this-” Both hands grasped her bottom now. “And these,” They came to grope at her breasts. With his hands on her chest, Bess was finally able to push Walter away. He stumbled only a little, and Bess had no time to move before he grabbed her by the face and shoved her into the wall. “And thinking she’s so high and mighty. That she can make fun of me,” he spat. His face was so close to hers she could barely see, the self-satisfied smile he wore now a vicious grimace.

“Please, Walter-”

“Shut up.” With one hand gripping her jaw, the other fumbled with the skirt of her dress. She clamped her legs shut. “Fucking bitch,” he hissed. “This is all you’re good for, Bess Vaughn, all you will ever be good for.” A leg forced her own open and she whimpered. Just as one of Walter’s fingers found the hem of her knickers, his weight disappeared.

Bess opened her eyes. Beneath the reach of the lamplight, a lump was writhing on the ground.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her!” Every word was punctuated with the harsh cracking of knuckle against skin. Tom Bennett was straddling Walter, who was cowering beneath him. He had Walter’s broken arm pinned above his head, using his other hand to pummel any bit of the man he could find.

“Tom,” Bess whispered, finally moving from her position against the wall. Tom landed another blow to Walter’s jaw. “Tom!”

He whipped round. Her dress was wrinkled, make up a little smudged and hair messy but the serious glower of her eyes had returned. She looked like she was about to spit fire. Tom’s chest swelled with pride. Standing up, he made his way to her, not without a swift kick to Walter’s stomach. “Shut up!” He shouted as Walter groaned. Under the light, Bess saw the frenzied fierceness of Tom’s eyes, the heavy breath from his flared nostrils and the delicious twitch of the muscles in his neck. She placed a hand on his chest to calm him. “I’m taking you home, wait here.” He said to her, and she felt for a moment as if she was being scolded. He turned back to Walter.

“You so much as look at her,” his voice was a low growl. “And I’ll break your fucking skull.” Without another word, he strode through the stage door and out of sight. Bess looked at Walter cowering on the ground like a stray dog. She approached him, and he look at her feet.

“You’re pathetic,” she said, and spat on him.

“Here,” Tom was at her side, holding out her coat. “I’ve told the others.” He steered her away from Walter and into the street towards home.

They didn’t talk a while and every now and again Tom jittered, still humming with energy from the fight. When they neared the dockyard with its silent cranes and slap of water against the quay, Bess found her voice.

“Tom?”

“Hm?”

“What were you going to say to me? When we were dancing?”

Tom wanted to shrink but instead puffed out his chest. “Do you know, I can’t remember.” Bess deflated, and Tom caught the change in her demeanour. Thinking it was to do with Walter Watson, he asked her whether she was ok.

“Hm?”

“Are you ok? You know, what happened back there.”

“Oh. Oh!” Recognition dawned on her. “Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Right.”

They walked a few more steps and quite unexpectedly, Bess giggled. Tom looked at her.

“Everything alright, Bess?”

“This is ridiculous,” she said, looking at him frankly. “We’re never this quiet!”

Tom laughed. “If only I was. Would save the fellas some gip.”

“Tell me about it. How are the other boys?” She regretted asking immediately. Tom eyes darkened and he looked up at the night sky.

“Well, Norman and Terry are fine. I imagine they’re out celebrating somewhere too. Sorry I didn’t bring Norman for Dot.”

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you.” He smiled at her kindness. By now they were departing the industrial landscape of the docks and entering the suburb of the estate.

“But, er, Vic-” Tom took a deep breath through his nose. “He, um-” His chest was rising quickly and his throat constricted. Bess’ hand slipped into his.

“It’s ok. You don’t have to tell me.” He nodded, though it seemed to be more in the aid of calming himself than responding to Bess.

They turned into the ginnel behind the Vaughn’s home. “We got hit.” Tom said suddenly. “We were in the gunroom, me, Vic and Henry. And I don’t know, there was this explosion and when I came round it was all dark and Vic-” His voice faltered again. “His face, it just-” He took a deep breath. “It was gone.”

A tear fell from Bess’ eye but she wiped it hastily away. This time was for Tom, not her. “It won’t surprise you, Bess, but I’d had a fight with Henry just before it all happened. Though Henry was winning, can you believe. And Vic was trying to calm me down. The siren went off and I refused to shake his hand. I was so angry and blind and I don’t know,” He shrugged. “One of the last things Vic said to me was that I wind everybody up, and then I didn’t shake his hand. So maybe, yeah, it would be best if I was a little quieter.” Tom laughed a little, though Bess couldn’t see anything funny about what he had told her. He caught the silent horror in her eyes and smiled.

“And now you’ll never get your chance with him.” Bess laughed and leant against the gate to the yard.

“And you’re stuck with horrible old Henry.”

“Ah, he’s not so bad. Lost an arm, actually, in the battle.” Bess said a quick prayer of thanks. It was a miracle he was stood before her. “You know I told you we were betting on when Vera laid an egg?” Bess nodded. “Well, Terry was closest, jammy bastard. But he wouldn’t take the money. Said we should give it to the widows-”

“Is Terry single?”

Tom gave Bess a pointed looked but smiled all the same. “I gave it to Henry. The others were getting at me for keeping it. I never would have done, but I wanted to make sure it went to the right person. Bit of a peace offering really.”

“Did the others leave you alone?”

“I asked Henry not to tell anyone.” Bess beamed at him. “What?”

“You’re a good man, Tom Bennett. Even if you pretend otherwise.” He placed a hand on his cheek in mock shyness, then laughed brightly. “You should smile more too! Less of this-” Bess squared her shoulders and swaggered around him, pouting her mouth and squinting her eyes.

“Oh ho! Is that what I look like to you?”

She laughed then flung her arms around his neck. The action took Tom by surprise but his hands instantly hugged her waist. “What’s this for?”

“For being in one piece. For being here. I was so scared.” She pulled back to look at his face. They smiled and studied each other a moment.

“Henry’s a ginger too, you know.”

“I’m not ginger! It’s-”

“Auburn, yes, I know.” And it was true. Her hair was a colour he had never seen before, dark and glimmering like Alexandra Park in autumn. Then a memory came to him, and he realised he was wrong. He curled a strand round his finger.

“Just before the explosion, when we’d been hit, these great flames came down the turret. Ever so slow, like. And for a moment, they reminded me of your hair.”

He looked from the strand of hair now coiled around his finger to Bess’ face. Her lips, the lipstick now worn away, were parted. The dark eyes that he so often thought of flickered to his mouth, and when they reached his eyes again, he noticed that the pupils beneath her thick lashes were wide. Realising that this was the first time he had been alone with Bess, without the threat of a family member bursting in on them sent heat prickling up his neck and chest. From one of the houses, a muffled cheer called out.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, his hand cupping her neck.

“Tom-” What she was going to say emptied from her mind, for no sooner had his name left her mouth was he kissing her. Slowly and sweetly, Tom kissed her. Bess grinned into his mouth as she thought of those full, curved lips finally kissing hers and she sighed. The noise stirred something in Tom and his tongue lathed warm and languid over her lips. Bess’ hands wound their way into his hair and he groaned, pulling her flush against him. Bess whimpered at the noise and pulled away. Tom’s eyes were still shut, and the look of hunger in them when he finally looked at her made her head spin.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day you came back from Manchester.” A hand left her hip and he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, before he kissed her once again. He pushed her against the gate and granted kisses along her neck. “I missed you so much, Bess.”

She brought his face to hers. “I missed you too,” she whispered into his mouth. Tom’s head was spinning and he laughed.

“Fuck,” he said, looking at Bess’ swollen lips and giddy smile. “Fuck!” They got the giggles, and Tom tucked his head into Bess’ shoulder to keep from hysterics. A light from the house flicked on.

“Shit! Dadda’s already home,” Bess laughed some more and Tom covered her mouth, looking down at those big brown eyes of hers. When she stilled, he removed his hand and kissed her gently.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and pressed something cool into her hands. Bess looked down. Sixpence.

“What’s this for?”

“A gift from Henry. Get a picture taken for me.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him with a smile. She couldn’t get enough.

“’Oiled up at the factory’?” she whispered seductively in his ear.

Tom groaned. “Don’t tease me.”

Bess opened the gate and snuck into the yard. Turning back, Tom was stood exactly as he was in his picture. Collar turned up, hands in his pockets, but with the unmistakable smirk of the cat that got the cream. Slowly, she closed the gate.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Goodnight,” Tom said back. Bess’ face peered at him through the crack between the wall and the gate, and he followed. “You have to shut the gate,” he teased.

“I know,” she felt like a lovesick schoolgirl.

“Goodnight, Bess.”

“Goodnight, Tom.” The gate clicked shut. On the other side, she heard Tom’s footsteps down the ginnel as he whistled We’ll Meet Again. She wanted to cry out with happiness, and when she walked into the kitchen to find Fergal and Douglas by the fire with a glass of whisky, she beamed at them.

“Happy New Year, Bess.” Douglas said.

“You’re back early. Did you have a good time, my darling?” Fergal turned in his seat to face her.

“The best, Dadda. Goodnight.”

Note: Below is the inspiration for the girls’ dresses. Come through Tom beating Walter to a pulp. Come through Tom talking about feelings. Come through Tom and Bess finally getting together! Beginning the next chapter immediately. Boy, have I got some stuff in store for you guys…

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #ewan mitchell x reader #world on fire #the seamstress & the sailor

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