#I hATE WARMTH O HAYE WARMTH I HATE WARMTH

[cringelordofchaos]

sweaters are so cute but they're too warm T-T

[ageofevermore]

Who We Are Chapter 10 - Iliad and Odyssey

summery: a hundred years ago earth was destroyed by nuclear warfare. those who could escape did, and those who couldn’t we’re thought to have been burned with the rest of earth. those who escaped primfaya traveled to space, living to tell stories of what earth once was to generations that hoped to see it’s beauty one day. nearly three generations later it’s time. oxygen is running low and life support can’t be fixed. a hundred teenagers are sent to the ground, but is it every really that simple?

Pairings: Olivia Kane x Bellamy Blake

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: hallucinations, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of guns and gun violence, bellivia fluff ! 

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                                                     When Olivia finally managed to pull herself up off the floor, her mind was immediately brought to Bellamy Blake and the fate of his situation. Her mind was working fast to compensate for a reasoning beside what had just occurred, yet the only somewhat bearable explanation Olivia could fathom was that the beans she'd eaten were mutilated with hallucinogenic properties. Earth skills had been very vague when addressing which foods were edible on earth, and Olivia was beginning to despise that irony.

Grabbing the bag of necessities from the floor, Olivia darted up the stairs with itching desperation to confirm that Bellamy was both alive and alright. The very opposite of Micheal Hayes. Olivia's body was visibly trembling as she exited the military base, shoulders barely stable enough to support the lightweight duffle bag of med-kits and blankets. Selfishly, Olivia had already shoved aside three of the softest for her, Octavia and Raven.

Olivia didn't call out for Bellamy in fear of alerting hostile grounders of her presence, so instead she crept through the trees and bushes with hesitation clear across her features. Olivia analyzed hundreds of possibilities within her mind, however she hadn't expected to see Bellamy laid out across a tree, beaten and bloodied with a lifeless body only a few inches from his feet. His chest heaved up and down heavily, his horror etched visibly across his pale complexion.

"Bellamy!" Olivia gasped in pure panic, her feet moving despite the desperate ache to curl up in a ball and just collapse. The world had been against her for so long, she figured it was her time to surrender. Her day had been filled with nothing but soft spoken confrontational battles, and her injures had just been pronounced terminal. "Are you alright, Bell?"

Bellamy broke down into a quiet sob of bleeding pain. The sharp intakes of breath he begged for broke Olivia's heart in two. His pain was so great and yet he put up a facade that could fool them all. She thought she knew Bellamy Blake, and yet she was so wrong. Olivia understood his motives, she could see his perspective, but she knew nothing of the tragedies that made him who he is.

"My mother," Bellamy began with aching breaths that all too closely resembled sobs, "if she knew what I've done, who I am — she raised me to be better, to be good, and all I do is hurt people. I'm a monster." Bellamy's voice trembled as he tried to remain somewhat intact before the completely shattered girl.

Olivia's breath pickup as her mind was brought back to the nightmare she'd been forced to relive just moments ago. Her own actions; attempts to do good and be better, had led her down a path of misery and grey colored grief. She'd lost apart of herself at twelve years old, a part of her that Marcus Kane missed deeply.

"Doing good and being good are two different things, Bell." Olivia whispered, her hands finding his with a desperate need to comfort the both of them simultaneously. "For what it's worth, I didn't know your mother very well, but I saw the way she looked at you, the way she talked about Octavia even. You could be the worst person in the world Bellamy, and as long as you recognized that, she would be proud. It meant you listened to something she said. That's the funny thing about parents, they don't really care about what you do, they only care that you lived and you learned."

Bellamy's hand twitched beneath Olivia's when he realized just how her hands trembled. Her face had lost off its color, her eyes somehow even dimmer then they had been when he left. Bellamy's gut coiled in guilt for not having noticed sooner, his worry immediately drawn to Olivia rather then himself.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy pondered, his voice thick with a blend of emotions that only humanized him more. His eyes were drawn to Olivia's, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on her hand when he felt her body flinch at the question.

"Those nuts, they must have expired. It's a common thing for hallucinogenic properties to secrete from beans and berries; especially on a radiation soaked planet." Olivia rambled shyly, her voice soft as she tried to recoil into herself. Her cheeks flushed at the attention, her hands growing clammy in Bellamy's as tears filled her eyes for the third time that day.

"What did you see?" Bellamy gently brought his hand up to cup Olivia's head, allowing her to melt into his side. He'd never vocalize his needs, but all Bellamy Blake craved was to feel like he was needed, and Olivia gave him that clarity. "Ollie, it's okay." Bellamy panicked when he noticed the way her breath drew in sharply and her eyes squeezed shut. A tear fell down her cheek, burning her skin as it fell.

Olivia's lip trembled, but she figured their was no harm in revealing even more of herself to Bellamy Blake. She had nothing to loose anymore, her will to thrive dwindling as the minutes passed. "Their was a reason why I was accepted into the cadet program nearly three years early, and it wasn't just because of my fathers position on the council."

Bellamy frowned, picking up on the fact that Olivia didn't want to talk about it any more. Olivia squirmed as her eyes landed on the dead body, her hands clenching around Bellamy's as if that would somehow provide her with comfort for not only Dax's death, but Michael's.

"Whenever your ready, you can tell me." Bellamy offered up the advice gently, hating the way his confidence crumbled whilst in the sole presence of Olivia Kane.

The girl had the ability to make even the most guarded person feel as though she could see right through them. Olivia could expose all of Bellamy's weaknesses without hesitation, he's given her enough reason to, and yet time and time again she proved that she wouldn't.

Olivia Kane would be the very reason that the remaining hundred would live long healthy lives on the ground. The hundred wouldn't be happy, but they'd at least have peace. Eventually.

——

                                                Olivia and Bellamy had sat beneath that tree for hours, allowing the dirt to stain their palms and the breeze to wash away their guilt as best it could. The both of them overwhelmed by the memories they'd reencountered. Bellamy gripped multiple bags of guns, Olivia heaving behind him as she carried along her own necessities of med-kits and blankets. Both Bellamy and Olivia had different standards of surviving, yet they weren't opposed to the rightfulness of the other.

Olivia sighed softly as she looked up towards Bellamy, her green eyes clouded dread. Her freckles were a maze in the glistening moonlight, the pure overstimulation of recent events and injuries corrupting her ability to think with a level-head. Despite the facade Bellamy was attempting to rebuild, he bent down, softly squaring his eyes with Olivia's with hopes to connect their unspoken humanity.

"Are you ever going to calm down, Bambi?" Bellamy teased, his words meant to reassure Olivia, and they did just that, her lips twisting upwards into a small smile.

"I like it better when you call me, Ollie." She huffed. Never once had she pictured herself being comforted by Bellamy Blake and his obscene nicknames, though something about the way Bellamy uttered Ollie sounded right. "Humor me for a minute, okay?" She asked, anxiety clear in her tone despite her attempts to try and calm herself. Bellamy noticed this, smiling softly to himself before nodding, giving Olivia confirmation to ask her question.

"Any particular meaning behind Octavia?" Olivia shyly pondered, her fingertips tangling within the fraying edges of the duffles. "The only reason I asked is because my father used to read me a book about a King—"

"—A King named Augustus, and his fierce sister Octavia." Bellamy cut in with a large smile, his eyes shinning beneath the stars that had once bought them both so much misery. "My mom and I would spend our nights reading old stories, mythology mostly, Augustus was always my favorite to learn about."

Olivia frowned softly as she looked down. Despite the warmth that spread in her chest at Bellamy's revelations, her guilt became unbearable as his words struck a chord within her chest. "My dad told me all about how my mother loved Greek Mythology. She had an entire collection of stories, her favorite was the Odyssey."

Bellamy's smile fell into place with a sad smirk, his eyes drifting downwards to the guns in his hands. His mother would be horrified by what he's become, though talking about Aurora with someone other then Octavia was liberating. The darkness had reigned within him for far to long. "My mother's was the Iliad."

Olivia finally mustered up enough courage to show Bellamy the tears streaming down her face, her lip trembling for the umpteenth time that day. "My names the only true thing she ever gave to me." Olivia laughed through tears, her own gratitude for Bellamy's understanding presence immense. "She found it in some stupid baby book, but she though it sounded like Olympus."

"It's beautiful." Bellamy offered a genuine smile, nudging his shoulder against Olivia's before he stood tall, the makeshift walls of the camp not far from sight. "Alright, suck it up, Bambi. We've got delinquents to arm."

Olivia rolled her eyes at Bellamy's heavy handed assertion of dominance. His love for order stemmed from an unruly upbringing, one that still haunted him despite the arrogant smirks and mindless gunfires. Bellamy Blake wasn't half the man he portrayed himself as, rather a man who had been broken one to many times. Olivia enjoyed being one of the few people that knew that, finding it even more heartwarming.

"Let the grounders come!" Bellamy announced arrogantly, laying the guns at his feet. Kids crowded around him, naturally drawn to his authoritative presence, though the added essence of guns only added to their captivation.

Olivia spotted Octavia in the crowd, her lips twitching upwards in relief for the familiar face. Despite Bellamy's comfort, she'd missed the feminine touch of his younger sister, who always seemed to know what to say, especially when it came to the heavy hold of pasts. Slipping away from Bellamy, Olivia attached herself to Octavia's side. A gentle smile pulled at her lips, comfort visibly seeping through Olivia's posture as she relaxed into the familiarity.

"You okay?" Octavia whispered, ignoring her brothers speech about surviving against the grounders. Olivia had always been important to Octavia, though seeing the visible affect the grounds had on her, it was as if she grew even more protective for the younger girl who'd never shown her anything but kindness.

"Those nuts were not my friend." Olivia groaned, her head falling to Octavia's shoulder in pure defeat. The day had gotten the best of her, and shamefully she had let it. "It's my birthday." She added noticing the way Octavia inevitably tensed at the reminder of what had happened to Elliott Greyson seventeen years ago. "Everything's just been so messed up today, O."

Octavia sighed, tightening her hold on Olivia's trembling hand. The skin was clammy and cold, the only true signs of Olivia's rising panic. "Just another day on the ground then isn't it?"

Olivia nodded tightly, her eyes avoiding Bellamy's despite his clear gaze on her. Octavia noticed the tense exchange of deep emotion between the two, frowning up at Bellamy before she looked down at Olivia who was clearly fighting back tears. As if a protective switch had been flipped with her, Octavia wrapped her arms around Olivia before leading her away from the crowd.

Olivia Kane was just a broken girl trying to act like she had everything perfectly put together.

——

Just as Octavia had coaxed a very disoriented Olivia to sleep, Clarke came barreling into the drop ship with worry etched across her features. Her hands were trembling at her side, her face pale as she tried to spot out a specific person in the crowd. Octavia stood from the chair she was once sat in, instead moving to meet Clarke in the middle.

"Have you seen Olivia? I just spoke with Kane and Jaha." Clarke asked, her eyes widening as she realized that for the first time in days, Olivia was peacefully sleeping tucked away into the corner. Despite the many long days the junior cadet had spent on the ground, the only time she got any rest was when consciousness physically failed her. It was beginning to grow worrisome, especially for Clarke who'd bore witness to her obscene patterns of grief beforehand.

"She's pushing herself to hard, Clarke." Octavia breathed out deeply. The Blake girl didn't show her emotions often, especially not to people like Clarke, though her genuine worry for Olivia only intensified with every glance down to her bandaged hands. "She's going to end up dead before the Ark can even come down here if she keeps pushing herself so hard."

Clarke frowned at Octavia's observation. The blonde had been so wrapped up in perpetual boy drama, negligence overcame her thoughts when it came to Olivia and her health concerns. "Has she eaten anything? She looks pale." Clarke noted, looking towards Octavia for a moment before stepping closer to Olivia. Her small body was curled up beneath a multitude of blankets, the heavy heat providing her with a feeling of safety.

"She had some of the nuts, but Clarke I think something happened when she was out with Bellamy. The both of them aren't acting right." Octavia muttered feeling less then heard as she stood beside Clarke, wincing when the stubborn blonde pressed the back of her hand to Olivia's forehead. The last thing either girl wanted was to wake Olivia before her body was ready.

"Bellamy just got pardoned for his crimes. He said Olivia talked him into facing Jaha, something about the Iliad, I don't really know what he was saying. Between the guns and the pounding headache I have, everything's a bit fuzzy." The blonde was never one to complain about her own health, but she was too busy fussing over Olivia to notice the words falling from her own mouth, or small smile that overcame Octavia's features. It was something as little as a book title, however it meant so much more to the Blake's, especially Bellamy who carried the words against his heart with everything he did.

"She's a little warm, it's probably just from the blankets though, god knows she never used to be able to have enough. We'd have sleepovers and my mom would worry about her suffocating beneath the duvet's." Clarke's frown broke into a small smile at the memory, though her reminiscing didn't last much longer then a few mere seconds. "Do me a favor, keep an eye on her? I don't want her in here alone."

Octavia nodded, hardly bothered by the task of watching over her friend. They'd grown distant since their time on the ground, an empty ache filling Octavia's stomach with guilt. Olivia Kane had always been gentle as a summer breeze, though the ground was nothing but a brutal midnight hurricane. She put up a strong fight to maintain her peaceful mantra, though it was easy to see surrender was creeping up beside her.

[the-simone-jones]

Broken Parts.

INVOLVED: Mo’nique Jones and Bryce Hayes. LOCATION: Jones’ Home; Los Angeles, California. TIME FRAME: Friday, January 4th, 2019. NOTES: Mo’nique’s ex husband pays her a visit. AUTHOR’S NOTE: Smut warning.

“I thought I’d stop by to get my check” Bryce said licking his full lips as he let himself further into Mo’nique’s home. He took a look around before he plopped down on the couch having made his way into the living room space.

“You did?” Mo’nique asked as she rested one hand on her full hip, her eyes followed the man as he let himself in. Leaving her to stand there at the front entrance holding the front door handle tightly. “I told you my accountant would handle that this morning, in which I am sure he did” she said as she closed the front door and locked it behind herself. She swished her full hips past the living room and into the kitchen. Were they divorced? Yes, going on 3 years now. Did they love each other? Yes, in the past. Did he make up sorry excuses to see her and come over? All the time. Did she do the same? Often. Why neither knew for sure. Their marriage was smooth sailing until her fame outgrew her and everyone else’s expectations. He was her ex drummer, a guy she didn’t expect to connect with, but she did. And together they always made beautiful music.

Bryce watched Mo as she walked past him without a care, she knew why he were here. Well, without a doubt he needed his money. No, he wasn’t a big star like her, he got by with his love and passion for music. But she had by passed him and ran laps when it came to the just due of it all. However, he still needed his money, every month, without a doubt. How else were he to entertain his list of women if he didn’t get his 10 thousand dollars a month? If he knew one thing for certain, it was that nowadays hoes were not cheap. But even with that he couldn’t miss dipping into her jar of honey whenever he could. And he knew she would not deny it.

Mo’nique moved into the large kitchen it was fit for someone with a full staff, a chef even, but it was just her these days. She loved her solitude it kept her at ease. Years back she used to think having Bryce around gave her tremendous comfort but that was never what he truly was to her. Not in the end. She scratched her head as she began checking emails from her laptop. She would have joined him in the living room but whatever antics he was up to today, she didn’t have much patience for. She scrolled for a moment before she sighed to herself again. Opening a tab in Chrome she began to research this fellow artist, of course she knew of the guy he were in some band or something but, who was he really?

“Aye” Bryce said as he moved into, her large kitchen. She had definitely upgraded from the small home he bought them in Pasadena. To think he thought of himself as a pretty big fucking deal having done so for them. He felt like a man, back then. “What you up to?” he asked her curiously taking in her demeanor. His ex-wife had always been a damn mystery to him. A broken home, estranged mother, siblings spread out, and a deadbeat father. And behind all of that stood the darkest cloud he’d ever seen one human being carry the weight of. Maybe that’s how it all dissipated, she was cold – spine numbing at times. She couldn’t love and didn’t know how to be loved and most of all she was fucked up.

“E, I, O, U, and sometimes Y” she replied looking up slowly. “Nothing” she replied to him squinting slightly. “Bryce, what else do you want?” she asked him. “Come out with it…” Mo’nique said swiftly. “The cat could never have your tongue…”

“Nawl, ‘cause I’d rather be using my tongue to lick the cat. Why you uptight?” he asked her. “What’s bothering you?” Bryce asked as he moved over towards her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

Rolling her eyes, she shut her laptop. Pushing the Macbook to the side a bit as she raised a brow at him. She hated him, completely. Yet here he stood before her. She never turned him away. “Victoria called me… and I know what she wants. I am not giving her money. It’s unfortunate she’s sick. But she made her bed…” Mo explained to him easily.

“Victoria, Victoria, Victoria” Bryce repeated with a shake of his head. That damn woman. Evil never seemed to die when you needed it. He for one, was lucky to not ever had to deal with his mother-in-law throughout their marriage. It was the one true blessing out of all of it. “Shh” he said softly, she was vulnerable he knew that. He was so sure of her that, he knew by now she’d spent days not eating and nights not sleeping over this. Mentally she just was not herself when that woman was ever inserted into her life. She was honestly better off having been given to someone or adopted. He leaned down kissing her full lips, large hands moving to her hips as he pulled her flush against his.

Mo’nique bit her lip roughly as she looked away from Bryce, as he shushed her, she closed her eyes momentarily before her lips were greeted with his. She hummed softly into the warmth and the feel of it all. She honestly just missed someone taking her out of her own thoughts and her own mind. I guess you could say in a crazy way, he needed his fix and so did she. It was sick and twisted but they were using each other in the most disgusting ways. As he grabbed her thick hips and moved her closer to his built body, she tilted her head deepening the kiss with each passing second. Though something deep down inside her begged her to stop, pull away, and grow up she continued to indulge especially with the heat growing between her thighs. Closed eyes weren’t blind, but they surely chose not to see.

Rough hands moved to the waistband of the tacky Gucci pajamas she had on, though rightfully in his mind he knew they were only tacky because he couldn’t afford them. His digits worked to push the fabric down, fingers dancing across her round ass as the elastic stretched across her brown skin. If he missed nothing more every time, he left it were her ass, Bryce could never get used to it. Hands pushing past thick thighs now, he allowed the silk fabric to glide down the rest of the way as his hands moved to unbutton the silk top next. He released an agitated growl, as he popped buttons open one after the other, his dick hardening with each attempt as finally he freed her full breast. With a delightful sigh, he ducked down capturing her chocolate round mound into his mouth hoisting her up in the process. The man rested her atop the kitchen counters.

As his hands moved to remove her pajamas bottoms Mo’nique moaned softly into his mouth. Their tongues battled in a never-ending war for dominance, she nor he bowing to allow the other to win. It was like their tongues danced, the tango to be exact in time on a constant rhythmic beat. God, it was what she missed. The way they just worked hand and hand to get the job done. She didn’t know where they’d gone wrong, what she could have done differently. But as long as he still desired her, it wasn’t her looks, weight, face? As he began to unbutton her shirt, she at one point of time said it would be easier to help him, but 2 buttons in he’d accomplished his goal so there was no longer a need for her. She squealed slightly as he hoisted her up onto her marble counters; white, gray, and black flecks of marble wore her shadow as her hands pressed into it gently. Balancing herself as she toed her pants off completely. She moaned softly to herself as his warm mouth teased her feverishly.

His hands gripped her thighs parting them and he released her nipple seeing the moisture that had already collected between her legs just for him. He moved over to her other full breast capturing it into his mouth, using his tongue to tease it as he used it to dance with her tongue moments ago. He unbuckled his jeans, Louie V belt buckle hitting the marble floors with a loud thud as he moved to free himself from his boxer a grunt leaving his mouth. He released her right nipple and moved to pull her panties down looking up at her with darkened eyes. Mo’nique was actually very gorgeous it was just everything on the inside of her, what made her uniquely herself that made her ugly. Bryce pulled her to him, jerking her forward.

Hips rocked on their own accord as Bryce moved from one full breast to other, she watched as he unbuckled his jeans, unzipped them, and let them fall to the ground. She shifted a bit as her lip found its way back into her mouth. As he pulled her panties down, she lifted her hips a bit assisting him in his task. As he pulled her forward, she slid slightly, and she caught herself. Elbows pressed into the marble as she shifted herself a bit, catching his gaze as he moved to slid into her depths. She inhaled sharply, lips falling open head falling back ever so slightly at the feel of him filling her up once more. Mo’nique whimpered slightly in anticipation for what he intended on administering to her.

Bryce stroked himself slightly before pushing himself deep inside her depths, he groaned at the feel of her slick wet walls engulfing him. In his mind she always fit like a glove, like she was made just for him and he closed his eyes as the thought sent chills up his spine even now. He pulled her closer if that were even possible, prompting her to wrap her thick legs around his waist. He moved nice and slow, his hips dipping in and out of her heat in a cool and calculated way. He knew her like the back of his hands, he had to coax the freak in her to come out. He couldn’t do too much too soon, or she’d hide behind her shell but if he took his time, she’d depend less on him and instead take over.

“Yes!” Mo’nique moaned back arching off the king-sized mattress as Bryce pounded walls down. Toes curling, she gripped him tighter, closer as he dived deep inside reaching peaks he hadn’t before. “Don’t stop” she begged as he slowed a little. “Don’t stop” she urged as she rolled her hips in time with his. “Please” she breathed out softly as she laced their fingers, locking hands.

“I gotta go” he hummed into her ear kissing the side of her neck, they’d fucked in the kitchen, the couch, and somehow that were not enough. In his defense he prompted the kitchen and couch. And somehow, they landed in her bedroom, but he had somewhere to be. And he knew if he stayed any longer, she’d become needy. Bryce landed each thrust just right as she grabbed his hands in hers, lacing their fingers and he opened his eyes looking down at her. Kissing her lips, he said “come on, let up…”

“I need you” Mo’nique said trying to reason with the man as he picked his pace back up slightly and she released another moan filled with nothing up ecstasy and thankfulness. She continued to grip his hands mouth parting as she panted slightly into the thick hot air. She released his hands only to grab his hips rolling him over onto his back as she took control. This way, she could keep him here just a little longer. Her mind was finally at ease, if he left it would all come swarming back and she couldn’t take that. She didn’t want that. Even if he were a headache, right now he happened to be a great pain reliever. She licked her dry lips as she rode him, her eyes closing as she rocked in time with him.

Bryce looked to the woman crazily, she turned them over riding him like a true freak would. His hands moved to her round ass, gripping it into his large hands. He groaned slightly, cursing her in his head he needed to bounce, in fact he had another booty call. As she bounced, and rocked, thick hips enticing him, he dropped his head back against the bed. “Damn” he said in the room looking up at her as she pleased herself on his account. And he began to match her thrust, he had his fun now it was time to dip and move on with his day. So, if getting her to cum again would, he’d get it out of her sooner than later. He used her hips as his leverage slamming her down against his large dick as he forcefully pushed in and out of her depths.

Hands splayed against his chiseled chest Mo’nique panted softly above the man, bouncing playfully against him a she smirked to herself. Nothing felt better than this, right now, in the moment, period, ever. Even as sweat trickled down her spine, as messy hair cascaded around her head, even as he forcefully pounded into her depths. Causing her cries of both pain and pleasure to leave her lips even with the pleased smirk on her face. Eyes still closed her head fell back slowly “yes, God yes” she murmured. Her thighs begin to tremble slightly as she gasped as the familiar feeling danced around in the pit of her stomach. “Fuck” she cried behind clamped lips.

Bryce huffed slightly as his hands moved back to her round ass and he continue to meet her thrust. He felt her plush thighs trembling, closing and opening on their accord. “Fuck” he said the sight of her nearly causing his own orgasm and he dropped his head back against the bed once more as continued to cry out for him. Bryce hiss mumbling “fuck” again. “Cum” he commanded to her in a husky voice, as his digits dug into her moist skin.

Whimpering, Mo’nique felt his hands digging into her skin and she gave in as he commanded her to. His husky voice was just what she needed to push her over the edge, and she came above him moaning, whimpering, crying smoothly as she did. Her body buzzed as waves of pleasure surged through her, it was electrifying to say the very least. Her body buzzed even more as he came shooting his load into her carelessly. Finally opening her eyes, she leaned down to kiss his lips soundly, savoring the taste of her still on his thick tongue.

Bryce felt her body vibrate at his command and he unwillingly came with her, spraying his seed among her fountain of nectar as she continued to rock against him. Her lips met his and he angrily kissed her back “alright” he barked. “I gotta go, that bitch waiting on me thanks to you” he said pushing her over slightly, pulling away from her kiss.

At his bark, she pulled away slightly from him sitting up a little as she brought her hips to a stop. His next words had to be swallowed down quickly, simply stored into a bottle. She looked to him unknowing of what to say, as he pushed at her she slid off of him. “I said I needed you…” she told him softly as she pulled the sheets toward herself, covering her body from him though he knew every inch and stretch mark. Mo’nique exhaled softly “Bryce” she said in a defeated voice “please?” she pleaded. “This one time… I don’t want to be alone” she told him.

“Come on man” Bryce retorted as he moved to grab his boxer, sliding them back on he snatched his jeans up after. One leg at a time he slid the jeans up before he said “grow up, alright” he barked at her again. “All this shit from your mother, father, whoever…. grow up. Shit happens. You are a grown ass woman, move past it” he said looking to her wildly. He zipped his jeans up and fastened his belt in place. “Where the fuck is my shirt bro…” he asked shaking his head as he found a sock. “You look silly…” he told her in a calmer voice. “Nothing is ever that keep bro.”

Mo’nique wrapped the sheets around her, she kept her eyes low as he angrily grabbed his things. Each word was another wound that would never heal, it was her fault anyway. “It’s downstairs” she replied back to him, he had left his shirt by the couch. She swallowed hard as she looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry” she said even though she had no clue what she was supposed to be sorry about, what did she do? He came to her. But like most people in her life, he came, he took and that was that. She never got anything in return. Pain, misery maybe.

“Save it” Bryce replied “sorry don’t even mean shit, it ain’t even needed right now. I’ll catch you later” he told her as he ran his hands through his hair a bit. He felt bad, leaving her like this. He just knew he couldn’t stay. To be sucked back in to her whirlwind. Love me now, wait, no hate me instead. It was too much. I love you, I hate you, I need you, I don’t want you. “Too much baggage Mo, people just can’t love your fucked-up parts, it’s not possible man, you have to much shit on your plate” he trailed off. She never knew what she actually wanted or needed out of life. “Bye…” he said leaving the room and moving down a set of stairs.

Mo’nique watched him go she blinked hard as the tears fell, she sniffled slightly to herself. Looking to the right of her as her chin quivered slightly a sob left her and she leaned down. Her body slumping over into her mattress crying harder. She sobbed, hard to catch her breath as each passing sob left her body like a crushing blow. Her eyes closed shut unable to see out of them anyhow. She pulled the covers tighter to her chest, hands gripping them as she were left with her tears and cries of heartache.

[mrmichaelchadler]

Second Season of Hulu’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” Off to Brilliant Start

When the first season of “The Handmaid’s Tale” premiered exactly one year ago today on Hulu, President Donald Trump had already begun inadvertently making America great again. The misogyny he spewed and empowered in his supporters spurred those who would normally remain on the sidelines to take to the streets. The Women’s March that occurred worldwide the day after the president’s inauguration served as a prelude to the #MeToo movement, which went viral last October, as charges of sexual harassment took down the careers of men who had previously appeared invincible. In between all of this, HBO’s “Big Little Lies,” Patty Jenkins’ “Wonder Woman” and Frances McDormand’s portrayal of Mildred Hayes in “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” embodied the defiant spirit of female-led activism culminating in the founding of the #TimesUp movement on New Year’s Day of 2018.

There’s no question that creator Bruce Miller’s adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel couldn’t have been released at a more appropriate time. Its portrayal of a totalitarian society created by theonomist Christians to overthrow American democracy will be seen as one of the definitive works of the Trump era. The ten episodes of its first season took a simultaneously harrowing and invigorating look at how to fight against the normalization of oppression while maintaining one’s sanity in the process. 

As June Osborne, a woman whose fertility has caused her to be enslaved as a Handmaid (a.k.a. reproductive surrogate) in the Republic of Gilead, Elisabeth Moss further cements her status as one of the great actors of our time. Few performers are as adept at revealing the depths of their character’s inner life in a single glance, and Moss is especially gifted at illuminating the glint of rebellion tucked beneath the placid surface of her expression. She has made a career out of playing women who refuse to be broken by men, whether they be the sexist ad executives in “Mad Men” or the insufferable boyfriend in “Listen Up Philip.” There is a scene in that film, directed by Moss’ frequent collaborator Alex Ross Perry, that encapsulates her genius. After she finally breaks up with her boyfriend and he storms out of her apartment, Perry holds the camera on Moss as a multitude of conflicting feelings—relief, sorrow, satisfaction, remorse—ripple across her face. This skill is crucial for a character like June, who must spend much of the time repressing her true feelings when in the persona of “Offred,” her designated name as a Handmaid. 

Like “Big Little Lies,” a miniseries that has now grown into a multi-season show, “The Handmaid’s Tale” ended its first season at the same place that its source material did, with Offred boarding a vehicle without knowing where it would be taking her, though any mode of escape from her Commander, Fred Waterford (Joseph Fiennes), and his vindictive wife, Serena (Yvonne Strahovski), is most welcome. The note that Miller chose to end on was one of uncertainty, a fitting reflection of our current sociopolitical landscape in which nothing is guaranteed. Whether the subsequent episodes will follow in step with Atwood’s epilogue remains to be seen, though on the basis of the six episodes from season two made available to critics, Miller’s show is expanding its narrative while remaining as provocative and riveting as ever.

The frightening opening sequence calls to mind the Kafkaesque nightmare of Orson Welles’ “The Trial,” as handmaids are ordered to walk through a tunnel, their path illuminated only by light streaming through slats of wood. When they emerge on the other end, they find themselves in Fenway Park, which has been reconfigured into an arena for executions. Relics of the free press and free speech can be observed in the abandoned Boston Globe building (now used as a slaughterhouse) and a dusty DVD of “Friends” (made during the days when erogenous zones were acceptable fodder for jokes). We also hear footage of the Red Sox winning the World Series over the end credits of episode two. The early sections of this season promise the structure of an odyssey, as June enlists the assistance of various samaritans—including her beau, Nick (Max Minghella)—to escape her incarceration. Cinematographer Zoë White, who previously lensed Stephen Cone’s wonderful “Princess Cyd,” brings an epic scope to various shots in episode three, such as the bird’s eye view of June racing through a cornfield. 

Viewers hoping that this season takes off in an entirely different direction will likely be disappointed, since it’s not long before June is resuming her duties as Offred at the Waterford residence. Yet even in these familiar locations, the writers create intriguing new dynamics between the characters. Moss still manages to get in a few hilariously withering lines fueled by June’s inability to mask her contempt for her self-righteous rapists (her delivery of “Uh huh” is one for the books). She also gets to turn Mrs. Waterford’s words back on her, affirming that as long as her own child is safe (referring to Hannah, whom she mothered with her husband, Luke) so is the one she is currently carrying for the infertile couple. As the child grows in June’s stomach, Strahovski alternates between maternal warmth and venomous envy, bringing us to the brink of empathizing with her, only to repel us with her selfishness. Once again, the color red materializes in striking places—we see it in the curtains of the van transporting June back to the Waterfords as well as the blood pooling beneath her crimson uniform.

One strong addition to the cast is 20-year-old Sydney Sweeney, who recently won over viewers on Netflix’s “Everything Sucks!”, where she shared many of the show’s best scenes with Peyton Kennedy, the other half of their teen couple who gained a devoted fan base despite the program’s cancellation. The extroverted character she played on that show couldn’t be further removed from her role on “The Handmaid’s Tale” as Eden, the 15-year-old bride assigned to Nick. Despite her wide-eyed innocence, Eden is hardened in her conviction to obey Gilead’s laws, and since Sweeney looks much younger here than she did in “Everything Sucks!”, it makes her deflowering all the more disturbing. Thankfully, the scene contains no nudity, focusing instead on her hand gripping the arm of Nick, whose visible discomfort overrides any potential eroticism. 

The finest episode of season two, thus far, is the fourth one, entitled, “Other Women.” It’s the show’s best depiction to date of how unearned guilt holds a vice on one’s identity, fragmenting it into abstract concepts of good and evil that leave no space for the true essence of humanity. What makes Aunt Lydia, the Handmaids’ overseer, so fearsome is the fact that she is entirely convinced that her misguided efforts to save civilization—by administering godly virtues via cattle prod—are in line with holy scripture. She truly believes that she is protecting the souls of these women by repeatedly abusing their bodies, while placing the blame of their suffering onto themselves. As played by Ann Dowd, Aunt Lydia makes Nurse Ratched and the Trunchbull look like Larry and Curly, lending a Shakespearean weight to her character’s tragic dimensions. The character is not unlike any pro-life candidate focused solely on bringing life into a world unequipped to nurture it. By unearthing buried guilt from June’s past, Aunt Lydia insidiously elicits a tearful confession from her, promising that she’ll find salvation “as Offred,” thus leaving the damnation of her past life behind. 

One of the most cathartic elements of the series is June’s narration, where she gets to provide expletive-laden commentary on the surrounding horrors while clinging to her individuality. Now that Aunt Lydia has infiltrated her mind, June’s witty voice-over is suddenly silenced, replaced by the robotic repetition of formalities. I was reminded of Moss’ haunting monologue from one of her early films, Deborah Kampmeier’s “Virgin,” where she recounts how a dog receiving electroshocks refuses to leave its cage once it has been opened. This episode, more than any other, illustrates how a cycle of abuse can hold people captive by snuffing out their sense of worth. This is how the unspeakable becomes normalized. 

Among the show’s many triumphant achievements is its ability to throw viewers headfirst into the narrative, juxtaposing flashbacks and parallel subplots in a way that brings us closer to June’s disorientation without devolving into incoherence. Though Alexis Bledel was credited as a “guest star” during the first season, she emerges here as a full-on supporting player, with many scenes devoted to her character, Emily, a handmaid sentenced to a life of hard labor, in part because of her “gender treachery” (a.k.a. lesbianism). The scene from season one where she’s forced to watch the execution of her wife is as shattering as anything I’ve seen on television. In the second episode of season two, we get many wrenching scenes from Emily’s past, including an airport interrogation that calls to mind the hatefulness of Trump’s transgender military ban. 

Various actual guest stars accompany Bledel in this episode, and though their presence is somewhat of a distraction, they are all well-cast, notably John Carroll Lynch as the concerned colleague who tries coaxing his friend back into he closet. Emily’s scenes mirror those of June in how both women are faced with the question of whether to reject life altogether in the midst of a seemingly eternal hell. Cherry Jones turns up in endearing flashbacks as June’s liberated mother, while Moira (Samira Wiley), June’s friend who escaped to Toronto’s “Little America” community and reunited with Luke (O-T Fagbenle), has a scene where she refers to herself as “Ruby,” demonstrating that she still hasn’t shaken her past persona as a Gilead prostitute. Perhaps the biggest laugh I had during all six episodes took place in Serena’s flashback to her fiery confrontation with students. When her voice is silenced by their outrage, Fred cries in protest, “This is America!”, embodying the ironic victim complex of various Pure Flix movies railing against the suppression of their freedom to suppress the freedom of others. 

I’ll admit that I always look forward to the songs selected for the end credits of each episode. Their lyrics may occasionally be a bit on-the-nose, but they are also reassuring, reminding us of the time that came before Gilead and is destined to return. The songs are, in many ways, the battle cry simmering within the handmaids, and as June’s despondency grows during this season, the music fades along with her voice-over. In one indelible shot lensed by DP Colin Watkinson, we see June propped in her bathtub, resolved simply to keeping her head above water, nothing more. What ultimately breaks her out of her sunken place is the resilient spirit of her unborn baby, whom she converses with after days of silence, telling the child that the Waterfords “do not own you.” Her words, of course, echo the lyrics of the song that concluded the very first episode of “The Handmaid’s Tale,” Lesley Gore’s classic 1963 tune, “You Don’t Own Me,” which serves as the unofficial anthem of the entire series. 

Even religion cannot be owned by violent ideologies since personal faith cannot be policed. It’s refreshing to see June build her own candlelit vigil while praying to what she believes is a loving God. The motif of flames characterizing the first six of thirteen scheduled episodes for this season suggest that the handmaids may be planning to fight fire with fire, quite literally. Will the match that June lights to burn her uniform be the spark that lights the fire that will burn Gilead down? I can’t wait to find out.

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