#at least paul guy knew to go full camp

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

The Cult Of Knives

[Sorry it's been a while folks, hoping you've all been OK. This came to me in a lucid dream. I've captioned all the photos so you can imagine what each character looks like, enjoy!]

It's an age old mistake, you've seen it in movies no doubt. One thing you never, ever find yourself doing is going within five metres of an abandoned cabin in the woods.

It all began late one afternoon, I'd left my apartment to go for my daily jog. It was a standard part of my daily routine by now; finish work, jog around town, go home. Plain and simple. Work kept me on a little longer that day so it pushed my jog a little further ahead. It wasn't so bad when I started, but soon enough the sky began to darken. On the outskirts of town is a field that leads to a bridge, and near the other side of the bridge is a forest. I used to go camping with my friends back in my school years, but now at 27 I don't really hear from them anymore. They all went off to do their own thing.

Anyway, as I got to the forest, I was relieved. I'd forgotten to go for a piss whilst at home and at least in the forest I could piss in a secluded area. I jogged a little way in, found a bush and did my business. When I'd finished I looked around, remembering those good times with my friends. I decided to have a look around for old time's sake. It's funny how places like these can hold so many memories for certain people. Right there by the river, that's where we all sat blaring Panic! At The Disco in the dead of night, that's where Charlie and Jeanette had sneaked off to have a little… fun. We were barely of the legal age back then, so funny looking back at it now, thinking we were giving the middle finger to society. And of course there it stands, The Old Murder Cabin.

The guys used to tell stories about this cabin, full of bullshit of course, used to scare the girls. Stories of there being an axe murderer living there who cut people up to sell as meat on the market. I remember once me and Paul had dared to break in there one night. It was empty, so it's safe to say the stories fell a bit flat after that. Shane never did forgive us for ruining that for us all. Still, it was like time had stood still here, like I was 18 again.

It was beginning to get darker now and I was thinking about heading back home when I stopped in my tracks. For a moment I could've sworn I heard voices. As soon as I started to pay attention they stopped. Had I imagined it? I cautiously crept along the wall towards a window, holding my breath I peeked in. Inside was the long abandoned kitchen, nothing seemed to be inside. I heaved a sigh of relief and chuckled, just my imagination. Though looking back in again I did notice that the table and chairs had been organised. When Paul and I had gone in years ago it was all slumped against walls and the chairs were upturned. Maybe someone had been living in there at some point. I felt like I shouldn't investigate and decided it would be wise to head home, that's when a huge hand with a cloth swooped out of nowhere, covering my mouth and nose. An arm tightened around my chest and though I tried to break free, the chloroform made short work of me.

'Knew I could see someone down by the river, like a moth to the flame!' someone laughed.

'You reckon he'll do?' asked another. I felt a foot sharply kick me in the side of my stomach and that's where I woke up coughing and spluttering, gasping for air.

'Transpierce, Sabre, restrain him' ordered another voice. Next thing I knew two blurry figures were hoisting me onto a hard surface and were busy on either side of me, fastening belts around my wrists. As my vision began to return to me, I could see that I was tied to the kitchen table inside the cabin. On either side of me stood two burly, hairy and muscular men. The room was lit by candles so this whole premise felt very unsettling and dreary.

'What's going on?' I asked, looking around for answers.

'Looks like you picked a bad night to stumble into the woods kiddo!' said a voice ahead of me. There stood another man built quite similarly to the two either side of me. I couldn't help noticing they were all shirtless, showing off their pecs and abs.

'Sorry, I thought this place was abandoned, I didn't mean to interrupt you all' I said, looking between them. The one ahead of me shook his head and folded his arms.

'Well to be fair it was until about a month ago, that's where I stumbled upon this place' he explained.

'Ah, love what you've done with the place!' I said, laughing nervously. At which they all chuckled in unison.

'He seems rather sweet doesn't he lads?' he asked the other two, to which they both nodded.

'Oh definitely!' said the man on my right.

'A perfect match!' said the man on my left.

'Good, I think so too. Transpierce, go and get Mateusz would you?' the man at the front asked as he moved over to take over his post. The man to my left, Transpierce nodded and walked off to the other room.

'Transpierce, that's an unusual name' I said, looking nervously into the man's eyes, I could only assume he was their leader.

'He chose it himself, we all do. I'm Bayonet, and our friend over there is Sabre' said Bayonet, moving his hands to examine my shoulders.

'Bayonet, that's a kind of knife, right?' I asked him. Bayonet smiled and nodded.

'Intelligent too! I appreciate a man that knows his knives!' he grinned, looking deeply into my eyes. I was feeling really uncomfortable by this point. We seemed to be getting along, but why was I still restrained? He looked up and down my body and sighed.

'It's a pity, you'd have been welcome to join my little Cult as you are, but there are certain… requirements I must enforce' Bayonet said. He left my side and walked over to the doorway that Transpierce had left through.

'Transpierce? Mateuz? What's taking you two so long?' Bayonet demanded.

'Just a moment Boss, he's almost ready!' called Transpierce from the other room.

'Good!' announced Bayonet, satisfied. He turned back to look at me.

'It's always a special occasion when we acquire a new Suit'.

What did he mean, suit? I was in my t-shirt and shorts, and they sure weren't wearing any suits. Bayonet turned his attention to a wooden chest in the corner of the room and pulled out a satchel containing various tools. As he searched the satchel, Transpierce returned to the room accompanied by a skinny-looking guy, either he was drenched in water or covered in some sort of gel that glistened in the candle light. I had to assume this was Mateusz.

'Alright then Matty, this is your moment. Your induction. In your own time' said Bayonet, turning around, holding a syringe and a bottle of glowing green liquid. Mateusz nodded hesitantly and made his way over to me. Our eyes locked and we regarded eachother for a moment. Not gonna lie, he was pretty cute, though he wasn't built and muscular like the other guys. He placed a greasy palm on my left leg and I shuddered. It was cold and strangely felt like a cut to the skin. He moved his hand slowly up my leg to my groin and the others stood back and watched.

Mateusz licked his lips and placed one hand on the table, hoisting himself on top of it, standing above me looking down, he gently lowered himself to sit on my crotch. I'm not usually into twinks but this guy was doing it for me somehow. He moved both of his hands along my arms to my restrained hands and filled them with his own, locking fingers with me. He moved to lay down on top of me and began to kiss me. This guy was good, tonguing my mouth and exploring, I could feel his hardening shaft grinding into me. He pulled away and I moaned. Whatever this guy wanted to do to me, I was his. He sat back up and began to pull his boxers off, letting his erect dick spring free. It had to be 7 inches long. I licked my lips, was I about to get to taste it? He moved to sit on my chest and he cupped my jaw in his hands, staring silently again. Then he moved to position his dick into my mouth and began to face fuck me. I so wished I could hold his body but my hands were restrained. As if they could read my mind, Sabre and Transpierce approached and undid the belt buckles, allowing me to put my hands on his bubble butt. I wanted all of that inside me. Mateusz continued to fuck, panting and groaning, eventually he came in my mouth and I swallowed his thick, creamy load. He pulled himself off me. I gasped for air as I laid down on the table, unable to take my eyes off Mateusz. Him unable to take his eyes off me, he caught his breath and began to smile, chuckling.

Assuming it was my turn to repay him the favour, I moved to pull my t-shirt off, but he stopped me, shaking his head.

'I'm not done yet, that was foreplay!' he said winking. I looked at him bewildered, face fucking was foreplay to him?!

It was at this point Bayonet approached with his syringe and injected the green, glowing substance into Mateusz's arm. It took a moment, but his skin began to glow green and the gel he seemed to have been coated in made him appear to turn rubbery. It was like he was now a hot, humanoid version of Flubber.

'Oh we're going to enjoy this!' Mateusz said, glowing before me. He squeaked and squelched as he moved and returned to sit atop me. He kissed me again, but this time his lips got sucked in, then his head began to get sucked into my mouth, squeaking as it went. I placed my hands on his shoulders and they ran down his slick body as it gradually began to suction into my own. As his torso, ass, dick, arms, legs and feet began to slide into me, my stomach began to balloon out and glow green under my clothes. The other men whooped and cheered. Underneath my skin, I could feel Mateusz repositioning himself, arms into the correct places, legs where they should be. My own skin was beginning to balloon out too, as muscle began to build, my clothes began to rip to shreds. I began to grow pecs and abs just like the other guys, my hands belonged to Mateusz now and he moved them below what remained of my boxers and began to pump our expanded dick. Both of us moaning in unison. I could feel my load getting ready to shoot and that's the last thing I can remember.

Mateusz groaned in pleasure as cum shot out from his new dick, two thick strings and then excess green liquid spewed out. He looked to the ceiling, sweat glistening on his new chiseled body. His friends surrounded him and smiled proudly at him, they'd been masturbating as they watched his merging with the captive jogger and moaned as they emptied their loads over him, christening him a new man, rubbing it all into his skin. Panting, Bayonet helped him to his feet and kissed him.

'Speak your new name, Brother!' he cried. Mateusz thought for a moment.

'Call me Machete!' he decided. Transpierce, Sabre and Bayonet looked between eachother and nodded approvingly.

'Very well! From this night forth you are complete, you are our beautiful Brother Machete!' said Bayonet proudly, hugging him tightly. Now they had four complete members to their ranks, in time their ranks would grow and the Cult of Knives would amass many more followers, but for now it was time they all got some action from Machete!

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

His Blood Runs Gold III

Percy is a God: Part III

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

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they made you into a weapon

and told you to find peace.

They travelled for hours by the light of the moon. Conversation was sparse and restricted to the quest, made clear only by Jason’s refusal to answer anything beyond that.

“I don’t know how long to follow the star for,” The demigod was mumbling, staring into the skies.

“Leave it to a prophecy to be as vague as possible.”

“Can’t you use your godly-hood to help?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.” Percy frowned.

“Yea I know but it was worth the shot,” Jason sighed.

“What do the arrows look like?”

“Hah, you should know the lovely divine would never tell us such helpful details.”

He laughed, “I remember frantically searching for Zeus’ lightning bolt on my first quest. We didn’t know how it would appear and then suddenly it was in my backpack while we faced the God of the Underworld. Fear had never tasted so deadly before.”

“Tell me about it. Trying to slay that damn Trojan monster felt like a one-way ticket to the end of the road.”

Percy shuddered as moments from various quests reeled through his mind.

“Guess nothing much changes, hey?” Jason huffed. “I’m still going on fatal quests for spoiled Gods.”

“At least this time you have one of those Gods by your side,” He joked

“Are you admitting that you’re spoilt?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t know Percy Jackson, are you?”

He turned his head, to see blue eyes piercing into him. “This is a pointless conversation.”

Jason mumbled something under his breath before turning forward again.

“What have you been doing these last years?”

“I’m sure Reyna has kept you updated.” The bite in those words tore at Percy’s gut.

“She just told me you were volunteering for every quest or burying yourself in camp activities.”

“Yea well it’s a good distraction from the flaming pool of horror that is my life.”

“What?”

Ignoring the question, the blonde gestured to the land below them, “You think you can use your godliness to find the arrows, so I don’t have to do this?”

“If I knew I would have gone to get them myself.”

“Well what’s the point then?” Lightning flickered in those eyes.

“What’s the point of… me?”

“Yes.” Jason glared, “What is the point of you Percy?”

“You asked me to protect you?”

“I asked you,” The demigod gritted, “To guide me.”

Percy swallowed the snap of pain, “What was the prophecy?”

Jason gave him a look, but recited the words:

Go north and follow the brightest star

Retrieve the arrow of foe but gain a scar

When you move on to the land of old

Find what you seek in a heart of gold

Indeed Son of Jupiter and Child of Greece

When this is over you will find peace

“That actually seems nice. It says you’ll find peace.”

“When does the prophecy ever say something it actually means?”

“Well I don’t know what else that could mean?” He frowned, confused.

“It probably, most definitely means I’m gonna die, but fuck it right? There’s not much to live for these days anyway.”

“Jason what are you talking about? This isn’t like you at all.”

“Yea well I stopped being like me three years ago when my best friend faked his death, and my other best friend left me to become a god, and my girlfriend admitted she didn’t ‘love me that way’ and she ‘needed space’,”

Percy reeled back in shock as blow after blow was delivered.

“So I’m sorry I’m not really ‘up to life’ these days. Forgive me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” He asked softly, willing Zarya to move forward.

“How could I have told you I was breaking apart when you were finally starting to stitch yourself back together? You had just become a God, and you and Annabeth were so– so happy.” Bitter was a horrid taste.

The Son of Jupiter turned to face the God once more, “You guys were even going to therapy together. You seemed care-free for once and I didn’t want to ruin that. It just seemed better to drift away, to keep myself.” Tears pooled and spilled over golden cheeks.

“Oh Jase,” Percy whispered, and with half a gallop the demigod was in his arms.

“I can’t believe you’ve felt so alone all this time. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t come to me. I– I should have been a better friend.”

At this the sobs increased, wracking his whole body.

It may have been seconds, or minutes, or hours while the two sat on their mounts, embracing each other, pulling themselves together.

When they broke apart, it was Jason who gave a watery smile, “Thank you.”

“I missed you Grace.”

“I missed you too Jackson.”

And as the sun came up the half-blood and the God used those rays of light to fill in the cracks of their friendship.

When Jason lolled forward in exhaustion Percy picked him up and with a nod to Tempest and Zarya, descended to the earth once more.

From what he could tell they were still in the North Atlantic Ocean but fast heading towards the South. If he had to guess, they would reach the equator within another night’s travel and Polaris– the North Star– would disappear.

If his hunch was correct, they would find Eros’ arrow at the place that separates the earth’s hemispheres; and the half-blood in his arms, who was born for the skies might dismay that it rests between the African and South American coasts. Percy would think on it all tomorrow. For now, he formed a bubble around Jason and dropped him into the sea before diving after him.

He didn’t need to rest really, not anymore, so he kept watch as his friend slept. He spent the time talking to the creatures that passed; helped a little seal who had got caught in a fishermen’s net, and munched on some ambrosia. It was weird to not have to monitor how much of the godly food he was eating– weird that the burning sensation after eating more than one small piece didn’t race up his throat.

He didn’t have to eat as much unless he was expending power. He supposed it was convenient that he really only needed these golden squares to survive, but he missed gorging himself on cheeseburgers after a fight and washing everything down with coke.

With a sigh, he tucked the rest of the ambrosia into the folds of the waves, and watched as it disappeared. He knew it floated in the between, waiting to be summoned once more, as with everything he had but didn’t need. It reminded him of the tool-belt Leo Valdez wore.

Percy smiled softly as he remembered his reunion with Leo. The demigod had knocked on the door of Sally’s apartment, Calypso in tow, and demanded to know why Percy hadn’t been at camp-half blood or SPQR for almost six months. When his mom had explained that he was a god Leo had burst into flames because he was so excited. Percy popped in just in time, pulling water from the kitchen taps and dousing the demigod and the plants that had caught alight. After a long and bruising hug, the two had talked for hours.

He was surprised to find that seeing Calypso again wasn’t awkward. In fact, after they had gotten teary catch-ups and soft squeezes out the way, her and Sally had disappeared to the garden leaving him and Leo to tackle the enchiladas his mom had been making for lunch.

Over the next years Percy often found himself walking into his mom’s house only to see Leo, and most times Calypso, sitting around the kitchen table or on the couch playing with Estelle. Sally had practically adopted the two, claiming that having Leo around reminded her of Percy when he was young- so full of buzzing energy and always busy, busy, busy with his hands. Paul, who by now could see through the mist relatively well, was fascinated by Leo’s power and Calypso’s extensive knowledge of history so he was happy to have them there too.

It was entirely ludicrous that fire and water could become such good friends but there was something about Leo that made Percy feel energized, awake, alive. in the rare moments that Percy had more than a few days on his hands, the two would get lost in video games, egging each other one, and creating general chaos in his mom’s house. It helped that the demigod made a mean plate of tacos and used his power to make the cheese all melty.

He was grateful, beyond grateful, that he had found someone who reminded him of his old life. Who kept him tied to the fun, child-like wonder he had so long possessed. He feared if he ever lost that, he would truly be a spoilt god indeed.

Pulling himself from his memories he turned to check on Jason and sighed softly at the peaceful look in the half-blood’s face. It was times like this, when he was surrounded by sea with only his thoughts to keep him company, that he felt most godly; strange he knew. But something about currents matched the constant push and pull of his mind. He became more ocean than being.

So Percy Jackson, God of protection and guidance, floated in the blue Atlantic waters and waited for his protégé to rest.

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Let me have it??? How are you feeling about this????????

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[kissofthemuses]

Star

FULL NAME: Star Mary Hale SPECIES: half vampire FANDOM: The Lost Boys

                                      PHYSICAL

FACECLAIM: Jami Gertz PRONOUNS: she/her AGE: 19-20ish BIRTHDATE: June 10 HAIR: brown EYES: brown HEIGHT: 5'5″ ORIENTATION: bisexual

                                    RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER: Rachel Hale FATHER: Matthew Hale Others: David, Paul, Marko, Dwayne, Laddie

                                    PERSONALITY

MBTI: ESTP-T / “ Entrepreneur ” ALIGNMENT: chaotic good TEMPERAMENT: sanguine ENNEAGRAM: type 7

                                    OTHER

LIKES:  DISLIKES: 

                                 TAGS

Threads Headcanons Musings Inspo

                                                                BACKSTORY

Star was born Mary Hale to Rachel and Matthew Hale- an old-fashioned and very religious couple. Growing up in her household wasn’t easy- she was expected to be seen and not heard, but, that was never in her nature especially as she grew older.

Her parents had always been the “spare the rod spoil the child” type of parents, but, instead of that making Mary a into the “proper” young woman that they expected, it only served to push her further to rebellion. As a teenager, she was a constant disappointment to her parents because she pushed every boundary that she could.

Things came to a head when Mary met and fell for another female classmate. Mary had realized before then that she could find women just as attractive as men, but, she’d never really thought about or acted on it before. Not until that moment. The two seemed drawn to each other like magnets and Mary fell hard and fast. Sarah didn’t shy away from it either, in fact, she was the one who first initiated the relationship.

While they did their best to keep it a secret, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The thing about small towns is that you’re bound to get caught and, when everyone knows everyone, things get around. When her parents found out, they were in a rage and demanded that Mary stop seeing Sarah, and that she “repent”. They wanted her to go to a camp that would “rid her of this sin”.

But, Mary didn’t see it as a sin, she and Sarah loved each other. It couldn’t be wrong! When she argued back against them, it made them fly off the handle. If she wasn’t going to submit to them, if she wasn’t going to be a good, god-fearing girl, then she was no longer welcome in their home. They threw Mary out on the street and disowned her entirely.

She went to Sarah’s house. But, Sarah’s family, too, had found out and demanded she cut all ties with Mary. Unlike Mary, Sarah did what her parents asked and told Mary they couldn’t see each other anymore and to stay away from her.

Broken hearted and, now, homeless, Mary didn’t know what to do. But, she knew that she had to get out of that town- there was nothing there for her. She wasn’t totally sure where she was going, but, she left, hitch-hiking herself as far away as she could. If she was forced to leave her entire life behind, she would, including the person she had been.

She decided that she would no longer be Mary Hale. Instead, she’d be someone else. The name Star wasn’t one she really thought about, it just came to her one night when she she’d hitched a ride with a trucker. He’d asked her name as she’d been staring up at the stars, watching the North Star as they drove.

The was how she found herself in Santa Carla, pickpocketing and flirting to survive. While she’d seen David and his boys around and was, in part, awed by the way they did what they wanted and didn’t care about what others thought about them, she stayed away from them if she could help it. She’d gotten good at being able to read people, and they screamed ‘danger’.

At least, until one night when David found her sleeping on the beach, under the boardwalk. He’d offered his hand to her, offering her a place to stay. She was wary, but, wasn’t really in a place to turn down a warm, dry, bed. So, she’d reluctantly accepted, keeping her switch-blade close (it wouldn’t be the first time guys had trapped her to take advantage of her).

To her surprise, though, the guys never tried anything with her. They did offer her a bed and food and started to lull her into a sense of security and comradery with them. Once her guard was down enough, David tricked her into drinking the blood in an attempt to turn her into a vampire. Star was horrified when it was finally revealed what they’d done to her and refused to go out to feed with them.

But every night it gets harder and harder to hold out.

[idontneedyourloves]

Hey guys,

I re read the Percy Jackson series over quarantine and I've relised that OH MY GOD SALLY JACKSON has got to be the worst mother like ever. Point one she KNEW that poseidon could not be there for their child, Poseidon knowing FULL well that there is some deadly prophecy that may apply to their kid said 'Hey sally how bout you come down here to the bottom of the ocean with me, it'd be a win win scenario and this kid could have a father, not grow up attracting monsters, and have at least a decent childhood'. Now what does this woman do 'oh well um happiness and safety for our child sounds great but ummmmmm like no? Because I'm self centered and need to feel independent and special. Like Sally Jackson, you are either really mean or really dumb. (Probobly both). Point number two marrying some gross abusive man for your child's 'safety'. First things first abusive and saftey should not correspond at all ever. Secondly if you think Percy is so "unsafe" then SEND HIM TO THE GOSH DARN SUMMER CAMP!!! There was absolutely ZERO reason for her to be like "okay so this gross dude is going to be like really gross and smelly and is going to mask my childs demigod scent from monsters. But he's also going to like traumatize my child so like.....oh wait what was that Percy got expelled from school so how about we send him FAR FAR away from here but I'm still going to stay with this abusive man ya know for his protection". Point three, the murder of gabe. SHE DEMONSTRATED TO HER 12 YEAR OLD SON THAT THE CORRECT WAY TO DEAL WITH THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE WRONGED YOU IS TO STRAIGHT UP TAKE THEIR LIFE!!!!! Now dont get me wrong im not trying to justify and sort of abuse AT ALL, but COME ON lady call the P O L I C E. He will surely be locked up for domestic abuse right, that probobly would've been WAY more of a punishment than KILLING HIM. Sitting in jail for probobly the rest of his life beats out straight up dying in terms of punishment (even tho he was most likely punished when he got to the underworld anyway). I can't wrap my head around the fact that this whole fandom is GLORIFYING a murder (even if he was a bad person, its like being against the death penalty). Point four PAUL BLOFIS. Now I'm not saying Paul is a bad person by any means......but he was a bad.....choice? Like her son is 14 years old stressed enough from what has been going on in his life lately and so Sally is like hmmmmmm now seems like absolutley PERFECT time to marry a man that I've known for barley 8 months. I'm having a seriously hard time believing that sally jackson DECLINED her son a happy life with his mother AND father underwater but WOULD marry some dude she met not even a year ago. Okay those are my four points as to why she freaking sucks. Thanks for reading my rant my guys!

-Hannah

P.s I can't read reply for some reason so just message me.

[fortressclan]

Bidwell sighed, glancing over at the full moon. Its that time of the month again. Great.

The moon had just risen, the twolegplace blocking out the stars from the sky and leaving the moon as the only source of light. Bidwell was preparing to make the quick trip over to the clans, having just finished all the tasks he had to do for the day. All was left was to check up on the two rivalling clans, and he could retreat back to his den and take a rest. God did he want to rest.

Bidwell looked over to Saxton, who was close by with some cats he was chatting up. He was too far away to hear anyone but Saxton, who was being loud as usual. He was sure anyone in the area wasnt going to be able to sleep that night, if he continued his story for that long. Hopefully the cats he was talking to would keep him distracted enough so he wouldnt try and fight another kittypet or, god forbid, a twoleg again. Saxton managed to catch his assistant's gaze and grinned, a quick acknowledgement before he continued with his loud conversation. Bidwell nodded before turning around, beginning the trip over to the clans.

It didnt take too long thankfully. Bidwell hopped over the log at the entrance of Blueclan's camp, something he had learned early on that one of the mercenaries had put there in a sad attempt at defense. And which had successfully tripped him three times before he finally learned to jump over it. At least it was better than nothing, he supposed.

The camp itself was somewhat small. The cats had moved and redid the entire place, leaving four dens remaining. They had kept the medicine cat and warrior dens, and Bidwell had later learned that they actually had weaved the nursery into the warrior's den, leaving an odd dip in the ground inside the den from where the nursery was originally was. The leader's den was, of course, untouched, and a thick bramble wall was made over the entrance, a small gap left in the barrier for what Bidwell could only assume was how their leader got delivered food and water. Bidwell didnt want to ask where their leader made dirt though- he feared what the answer to that question would be. The last den was close to the medicine cat's, being for anyone with injuries or visitors. Pauling had told him it was added after a particularly rainy night kept her in the camp, and Baystep was kind enough to help make a quick shelter for her to stay the night. Before Bidwell had questioned why she didnt just stay in the warrior's den with the others, but after actually meeting them, he quickly understood.

Immediately upon entering he spotted a gaggle of the mercenaries by one of the dens, some of them sharing a rabbit. He struggled to remember their names sometimes, since their leaders had decided to rename them all as a sign of welcoming and he had only knew them as their loner names. He managed to overhear their conversation and quickly put faces to names- Heavyclaw, Scorchleap, Hawkslash, and Baystep. He struggled for a few seconds with the last tom, since one of the cats kept naming him 'Berrytooth' for some reason, but after watching Heavyclaw gently hit him with a paw and correct him, he managed to remember Houndsnap's name. Bidwell offered little other than a quick nod to the group to acknowledge they existed, before heading to the medicine cat's den. The smells of herbs, flowers, and a scent Bidwell's mind immediately told him was blood flooded his nose, almost being too much for him. He spotted Bloodspeckle sitting down and pointing at something red and suspiciously meaty looking, with Firecrackle listening with wide eyes. "And you see, this is the hea- oh! Hello, Bidvell!" The medicine cat greeted, a few too many red spots on him for Bidwell to blissfully ignore. Firecrackle chirped a greeting as well, and Bidwell quickly nodded a hello before immediately backing away from the scene. That left two cats left, unless one of them was unfortunate enough to have been reduced to whatever Bloodspeckle was showing Firecrackle.

After investigating the two other dens and ruling out the leader's den as where the two were hidden, Bidwell decided desperate times required desperate measures. The gaggle of cats had mostly spread out, and Bidwell slowly gravitated towards the two ginger toms, Baystep and Heavyclaw. The paler of the two, Baystep, paused his conversation as soon as Bidwell approached, tipping his head in greeting. Heavyclaw paused to read Bidwell's expression, before his ears perked. "Little man has question?" He asked, with a slight tilt of his head and curiousity in his expression. Baystep chimmed in as well, adding "Feel free to ask us anything, partner. We'd be glad to help". Bidwell nodded, glancing around almost nervously. "Yeah, right, thank you. Uh, would any of you happen to know where the others are?" He asked, trying to remember their names. "Rushwing and..." He waved a paw, trying to remember what new name the other had gotten. "Raccoonheart?" Baystep supplied, and Bidwell nodded. "Yes, him. Them. Both of them." Baystep glanced at Heavyclaw, apparently thinking. "I thought i saw Raccoonheart hunting earlier, and i aint too sure where the kid is." He responded, and Heavyclaw slowly nodded, turning his head over to where Houndsnap and Scorchleap were. "Do Hound and Scorch know where little apprentice went?" He asked, and both cats shook their head. Bidwell watched as Scorchleap went and asked Bloodspeckle and Firecrackle, and groaned as he came back and reported they had no clue, either.

"How did you manage to lose an entire cat?" Bidwell sighed, lowering his head and debating hitting it against the ground as a sign of frustration. Maybe he would manage to knock himself out and wake up back in his den like this was a bad dream. "Dont worry, the little ankle-biter will show up sooner or later. Or you'll hear him yabbing on about something or other." Hawkslash reassured Bidwell, which did little to help actually reassure him. Bidwell nodded anyways, before deciding what to do. "I'll return later." He said to none of the cats in particular, raising his head up. "He cant be too far, and its quicker than waiting, at least." Some of the cats dipped and nodded their heads, leaving Bidwell to leave camp to wander around and hopefully find the missing speedy tom.

Fortunately, that didnt take too long. The smells of the twolegplace had clogged his nose enough for him to be utterly useless at tracking, but Rushwing didnt seem to be the one to be sneaky in any sense. Whenever Bidwell lost the scent, there was normally a broken branch or obviously moved fern that he could follow and use to pick it up again. It took barely ten minutes for him to find out where Rushwing was, counting the two times he had mistakenly followed the wrong trail. The area Rushwing was in looked to have been a long abandoned training clearing, with a soft and sandy ground that would've been perfect to practice on. It was padded down slightly from use, and Bidwell was able to see some spots where paw prints had been worn down into the ground. Rushwing himself was hitting a clawed up tree that jutted out into the training area a bit, hopping and dodging about for practice. It didnt seem like Rushwing had noticed Bidwell, and while he could leave now that he knew the other hadnt gotten himself killed, something told him to sit down and watch for a few seconds. It wasnt everyday he got to see someone fight. Someone that wasnt Saxton, that is.

Bidwell got caught pretty quickly, Rushwing having paused to lick his paw after accidentally actually hitting the tree with his paw pad. Rushwing stared at Bidwell for a second, tongue sticking out against his paw, before smiling. "Oh hey, prissy pelt!" He greeted, quickly licking his paw before setting it down. "Any reason youre sittin' there watchin' me?" Rushwing asked, and Bidwell shook his head. "No, none at all." "Well, cause, y'know i was just warming up. Normally i fight foxes. Reaaaal big ones." Bidwell raised his non existent eyebrows, sensing the conversation veering directly into bragging territory. "I mean like, even bigger than me! And you, obviously." Bidwell had little idea how to respond without fueling the fire, so he just nodded and let Rushwing continue. Maybe he could sneak away while Rushwing was talking? "I even fought a badger once! Real big guy, tough too! I think it was a guy. I didnt ask. Anyways, me and Scorchleap, this was before you and Pauling and everyone else stuck their noses into our lives, no offense, we had to fight it! And we, well, we were the only ones left in the clan, but that was alright! We won anyways, and-" Rushwing paused, bending awkwardly to get to the back of his front leg, shoving a bit of fur out of the side. His fur had hidden them, but Rushwing had a few scars on his leg which Bidwell recognized as teeth marks. Bidwell had never seen a badger, or a fox for that matter, but a quick run over of his teeth with his tongue informed him that, for once, Rushwing was probably not lying or exaggerating the story. "I got this! The badger bit my leg and tried throwing me, but it didnt let go, and i got dizzy and my head kinda hurt. Scorchleap smacked it right in its ugly face and it dropped me, and we both chased if off!" Rushwing smiled, clearly proud of his scar as he sat properly again, licking his fur down and over the scars again.

Bidwell opened his mouth, instinct kicking in with the normal 'you did great, sir' he would give Saxton for the latest fight he had, but quickly stopped that train of thought before it left his mouth. Bidwell opened it again to ask about the badger, before Rushwing continued. "I mean, it probably aint much to what's in the twolegplace. The other guys keep goin' on and on about how harsh and bad that place is. You gotta have some scars too, right? C'mon, spill it!" Rushwing got up, circling Bidwell excitedly as if to search for any scars he had under his long fur. "I, uh, i dont have any." Bidwell admitted, craning his head around to keep his eye on Rushwing. "Im not a fighter. I just work for Saxton, unlike Pauling. She's most likely the one with the good stories." He said as Rushwing finished his circling, looking rather disappointed. "Well you have to know somethin'! Aint there big monsters and twolegs there? Dont you, like, fight 'em?" Bidwell shook his head, and Rushwing groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. He sat down, going silent for a few seconds, before immediately perking up. "I know! Fancy paws, get up." Rushwing nearly commanded, getting a flat stare from Bidwell. Bidwell hesitantly got up, unsure to where this was going. Rushwing scurried to the other side of the training clearing, before getting down into a crouch with an excited grin. "What are you doing?" Bidwell asked in the same tone he used on kits, rowdy apprentices, and, occasionally, Saxton. "Pretendin' youre a fox." Rushwing answered, and before Bidwell could ask what that even meant, Rushwing was suddenly charging at him at a surprising speed. Bidwell's first reaction was to scramble away, but it seemed Rushwing had planned for that. As Bidwell ran, Rushwing leaped and landed directly in Bidwell's path, whipping around and striking a paw out.

Bidwell froze and closed his eyes, expecting the hot flash of pain, but was instead met with a light twap as Rushwing rather gently hit him with a sheathed claw. Bidwell opened one eye, then the other, watching with defeat as Rushwing hit his face like a kitten playing with yarn. "By starclan, you would not survive in the wild." Rushwing said, clearly amused and trying not to laugh. "I said i wasnt a fighter..." Bidwell exhaled, sitting and slowly calming down, licking flat some fur that had risen up from the short lived conflict. "I didnt think you were that bad!" Rushwing defended himself, sitting down as well. "I mean, even Bloodspeckle is better than that! I dont think he has any self preser-whatsit, but you didnt even fight! You just ran!" Bidwell didnt really know how to react, since everything Rushwing was saying was true, staying silent instead of repeating the 'im not a fighter' line again. "Ok ok, alright, listen. Next time i do that, run forwards. Not away, towards. Got it?" Bidwell was about to ask what 'next time' was suggesting, before Rushwing went back over to the other side of the training clearing again. Oh lord. Bidwell debated his options, before deciding that this was the best practice he was going to get. He got up, much to what seemed like surprise and genuine happiness on Rushwing's face, getting back to around where he was before. "Ready?" Rushwing asked, and Bidwell tentatively nodded. Rushwing began charging once again, and Bidwell's instincts screamed at him to run away, to escape the danger. He grounded himself, trying his best to ignore it, and once he saw Rushwing's hind paws bunch up in preparation to jump, he ran forward. Rushwing left the ground as Bidwell left little but dust and sand where he was standing, and the long fur tom was surprised when he ran right under Rushwing, landing in his paws hard to turn his head around and watch Rushwing land. Something clicked in Bidwell, and he began charging right at Rushwing. The tom looked over with a almost proud grin that made Bidwell only feel a little bad as he sped towards him, and the expression was quickly replaced with surprise as Bidwell slammed his front paws into his shoulder. The force knocked the unsuspecting warrior over, with Bidwell following after with little clue on how to roll along with the fall. The two were silent for a second, with Rushwing trying to process what happened and Bidwell silently proud of what he had done, before Rushwing let out a small laugh, still on the ground. Bidwell smiled, slowly joining in with the laugh at what he had just done. The two stayed on the ground like that for a few seconds, before their laughter died down as the rustling of leaves alerted them to a newcomer.

"Are you two done playing like kits?" Raccoonheart asked, setting down a warm rabbit, most likely recently caught. Bidwell immediately got up, shaking his fur and getting any sand stuck to him off. Rushwing raised his head but didnt get up, glaring at Raccoonheart. "We were trainin'! Which is more than you seem to be doin'. Doesnt Baystep get us enough food?" Rushwing grumbled, nodding to the rabbit. "Bluestar specifically requested for a rabbit, according to Bloodspeckle. Now leave Bidwell alone and let him do his actual work." Raccoonheart replied, picking up his rabbit and retreating into the bushes. Rushwing stuck his tongue out as the tom left, grumbling to himself once he was out of sight. "Raccoonheart is right." Bidwell admitted, feeling somewhat disappointed. "I should go back to my work. I still have to make sure Redclan is in order." Rushwing got up, shaking his fur with a sigh. "Yeah, i thought so." He nodded, looking almost as disappointed as Bidwell felt. Bidwell turned to depart, before Rushwing caused him to pause. "Hey, uh, stay safe." Rushwing said, his tone somewhat cautious, and almost nervous. "Kind of want to beat you up again, y'know?" Bidwell looked at Rushwing, who seemed a bit uncomfortable at the attempt of being genuine. He smiled at the tom, nodding. "I'll... Yeah, it was fun. Ill try not to die or anything." Bidwell agreed. "Yeah, yeah! Thanks. For, uh, not dying. In advance." Bidwell smiled at that before breathing out, turning around, and leaving into the forest. The small training had hurt his paws and the side he had landed on slightly, but Bidwell didnt really seem to mind as he began walking away. Maybe Saxton was right. Maybe a good fight was something he needed. Or maybe all he needed just a good laugh.

[hollerace]

Mrs. Wahlstrom--Feb 5, 2021

How do you get into a fight the first time you see someone? When you’re the ripe old age of six? That’s the way it happened with Lloyd Tichey and me. We had just moved in to Midfield Avenue. I saw a kid across the street, playing between the two garages that took up the block. I crossed the street to inspect and got pelted with a clod of dirt for my trouble. I found a hiding spot and armed myself. After a brief fusillade, I poked my head out; so did Lloyd, who said, “My mom’s got iced tea.” Within first sips, our friendship was cemented. Lloyd was younger than I, not by much. He was a bit taller (who wasn't?) and better at sports and games. The surrounding streets were our arena, with plenty of kids and fewer cars. Were moms really allowed to drive? Not in our neighborhood. It didn’t take us long to confront a common enemy. Mrs. Wahlstrom lived next to me and anointed herself the personal enemy of kids having fun. She appeared regularly in attempts to quelch our enjoyment. Some of the games could attain high volume levels, particularly kickball. The sport was similar to baseball. An inflated ball would be rolled to the “batter.” You can figure out the rest. Four bases, hits, runs, enjoyment. Wacky Wahlstrom, as we called her, used her porch as her pulpit. Fortunately for us, she was a native Swedish (we guessed) speaker. Diatribes, accompanied by boney, croney finger-points, began with, “You keeds,” followed by screechy, unintelligible syllables, accented with various avian screeches, hoots and gabbling. Since she was a grownup, we didn’t sass her back, nor did we listen to her admonitions. Occasionally, a ball would find its way onto her porch. The nearest kid would race up there to retrieve the precious piece before she could confiscate it. Lloyd Tichey (pronounced “Ticky”) feared her least. He would march right up to Mrs. Wahlstrom and face her down until she surrendered whatever she had just nicked from us. One time, during a game break, I opined, “I wonder if there was ever a Mister Wahlstrom?” Several theories ensued. Lloyd’s stance was, “There was a guy, once. He musta killed himself.” We howled. Lloyd had an older brother, Barry, who was in my grade. He was quiet, virtually tacit, forever riding his bike down to Birch Creek to fish. An even older brother (Jimmy, I think) lived elsewhere. He was wild-eyed with bushy uneven hair and given to loud forms of addressing anyone. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TIMMY?” he would shriek as he raced from his car to the house. I never knew how to answer him. Mr. Tichey was a dapper, tanned, mustachioed man who travelled for work. His wife always looked furrowed; she seemed to worry a weathered washcloth in her hands as she walked about the neighborhood. She was followed everywhere by Baby Myra, a rotund little girl whose face needed constant swipes by her mom’s accessory. Their house smelled of cabbage. All the kids looked to Lloyd for leadership. He was a skilled organizer of games--a natural arbiter. If there was ever a problem, Lloyd seemed to rule. For a time, Dark Mark Longuiel, who lived down by The Field, started hanging around our street. He readily disagreed with anyone, and always seemed champing for a dispute. He even got mad at Ellen Botsford, who was far and away the prettiest girl who played with us. (Yes, we needed no Title IX; we just naturally went co-ed.). Lloyd Tichey got in his face. Harsh words, no blows, no Mark. As we grew, street play lost its popularity. We rarely saw Mrs. Wahlstrom. Once, when she was inching her ancient DeSoto down the driveway at a glacier’s pace, little Martin Botsford yelled, “Hey, Wacky Wahlstrom!” Lloyd immediately shut him down. “Leave her be,” he said sharply. Little Martin was already growing into quite the pain. But the little old lady seemed to fade into her dun, once-burgundy house. “She must have eighty Wiffle Balls in there,” remarked Lloyd one time. He remained an untitled leader in the ‘hood, but I was his consigliere, so to speak. Lloyd would ask me Big Questions. Many of these were about the aforementioned Ellen Botsford.

We were approaching the age where kickball dimmed in intergender activities. Most summer evenings, we played a game of Chase. This was a sort of an offshoot of the classic pastime, but much more hiding was effected as opposed to any seeking. I was just emerging from one of my favorite lairs, behind Crabby Creiner’s shed. I just happened to spy Lloyd Tichey and Ellen Botsford sneaking out of Muldoon’s lot, which provided excellent leafy cover. They were holding hands.

Wait! What? Suddenly, the rules of every game changed. Such manual interlocking was a brave, new world to a pre-shaving Catholic boy, at once exciting and terrifying. But Lloyd and Ellen? No way! No wonder all the questions.

I guess I liked some girls. There was a brief crush on Lisa Longborg, who was our eighth-grade lunch monitor. A veritable amazon at five-seven, she would camp at Sister’s desk while we ate on days too wet for recess. I would invent reasons to approach the desk while she sat there, imperious over her bologna-on-Wonder (pencil-sharpening was a good one), managing to sneak glances at her ever-burgeoning mammarial development. I wasn’t the only boy to attempt this ruse.

There was also the exotic, raven-tressed Ann Marie Pandolfo, whose glamour faded for me when she ironed a Paul Anka image on the back of her coat. This also garnered the disapproval of The Good Sisters.

I barely had the chance to recover from this tectonic shift in my life-views when another tremor hit. Lloyd announced that his family was moving up to Northfield, a suburb some ten miles north of town.

It seems Mr. Tichey had earned some sort of promotion at work, enabling his brood to improve their lifestyles. I was forlorn at first, then resigned.

The school year was bearable (Lloyd went to the public school), but that first summer loomed dusty, empty and stifling. There was the LAG (Lark Avenue Gang) for fun, just a couple of blocks away. Games of Chase still took place. Again I hid alone, noticing that more and more couples were pairing off.

My father even drove me up to Northford once to visit. The streets had no sidewalks or phone poles, with names like Chipshot Road or Rolling Mews Lane.

The Ticheys had a big, split-level ranch, a bigger yard. As neat as it was to see Lloyd, the entire scenario loomed disjoint, foreign. Even Baby Myra seemed clean, and the  house didn’t smell of cabbage

.I didn’t realize our city was slowly draining. People, stores and services were migrating. And a friendship faded, tattered pages of memories from a book hidden away on a musty shelf.

Not long after, I went off to Campion Prep; Lloyd ended up at Northfield High. I found the drums and Lloyd did the same for basketball. Our teams never played each other, for my school kept  an urban schedule. But the Despatch would cover Lloyd’s games, where his star would shine brighter as we neared graduation.

No sports legend, I even took Ellen Botsford to the movies once. She later ditched me for a Campion U. guy who had a sleek Honda bike. Who could blame her?

When I returned home after my freshman year at Sacre Coeur College, I fielded an odd phone call. It was from Mrs. Tichey. Her voice trembled as she told me how Lloyd had joined the Marines right after graduation. This unnerved me. I had thought for sure that a hoops scholarship awaited him. I asked for a way to get in touch. She gave me an FPO address. I wrote to him in vain.

Two summers later, I was rehearsing nightly with a local band, awaiting our maiden visit to a recording studio. One evening, a long Cadillac convertible pulled up to the house. Inside was Lloyd Tichey, in civilian clothes, but looking every bit the cut-and-pressed Marine.

Surprised, I hopped in, and we drove down to Lady’s, the seawall where Park Terrace met the Sound. It was his father’s ride, but Lloyd produced some cold Schaefers.

“I’m sick of this Honor Guard, shit, Timmy,” he began. An influential state senator from Northfield had arranged for Lloyd to secure this light-duty post at the governor’s mansion in Hartford.

“But, Lloyd,” I said, “this keeps you out of the war. Easy going.”

“Bullshit. Anyone can carry a flag. I’m a Marine; I want to fight.” I saw this was no time to voice my concerns over the Viet mess we had gotten into. His anger blossomed: sharp eyes, tightened features. I felt the tension.

We drank in silence. We both knew an argument was futile. As he dropped me off, we shared a brief hug, something we had never done as kids.

Our lives, like two opposing streams, changed courses, each divining its own path, surging forward in separate worlds.The ne

xt May, I read in the paper about Operation Georgia in Viet Nam. What made me notice was that the 9th Marines were involved. Lloyd’s unit.

I didn’t get a phone call. Reading the article in the Despatch galvanized my spine. I didn’t care about the heroes in Quang Nam province. But the article did include that a Lloyd Tichey of Northford wouldn’t be returning home. His remains, however, would.

I gleaned that there would be full military honors at Quantico, but not until a viewing was scheduled here in the city.My mom had sold the house by then, but on the day of the wake, I drove down Midfield Avenue. Why? An unseen force directed me down our old street. Maybe I wasn’t that surprised to see a cab pulled up next door to my old house.

I parked and walked over to the cabbie. “What’s the fare?”

“Some Mrs. Wallstorm. Goin’ ta Wolke’s funeral parlor. Sposta wait.”

I tipped him and told him to grab a better fare. Soon, she appeared on her porch. Hunched over like a question mark, she made for the stairs. I hustled over to help her. How old could she be? She seemed ancient when we were kids. I cradled her elbow as she descended.

“I gotcha, Mrs. Wahlstrom,” I said. She finally looked up, peering at me through veiled, powdery crinkles. I was afraid her arm, impossibly frail, would collapse under my grip.

“Oh,” she said, “leetle Teemy. We go see Lloyd, no?”

We drove the mile or so in silence. Every other time I had listened to her, she was yelling at me. This, somehow, seemed more appropriate.

My buddy, Juice Staley, worked at Wolke’s, so he procured a wheelchair for my passenger, who seemed grateful. We briefly stood beside the closed casket, bedecked with Old Glory. We were greeted by a forlorn Mrs. Tichey, looking uncomfortable in a dress. No husband in sight. She was propped up by Myra, now a young woman. I could see Mrs. Tichey’s washcloth lingering on a nearby chair. Jimmy, no longer wild-eyed, comforted Barry. The scene was fraught with an uncomfortable confusion.

 No one seemed to recognize Mrs. Whalstrom, and I saw no fruit in explaining who she was. Some folks, obviously from the suburbs, entered to pay respects. This eased my tautness. Mrs. Wahlstrom gave me a look that said, “Enough,” and we made our way out.

We passed a Marine officer, all gussied up in his dress blues. He said, “Folks, you might want to stay. We are having a color guard, and an armed salute…”

Mrs. Wahlstrom, still in her wheelchair, was having none of this. “YOU GO TO HELL, MEESTER! ALL YOU KNOW IS FIGHT! FOR WHAT? TO KEEL YOUNG BOYS LIKE LLOYD!”

The man bristled and said, “You best get her out of here, you damned hippie,” he said. I answered with a mock, left-handed salute.

All Mrs. W. could manage on the drive home was, “I guess I told heem!”

At her house, she said, “You come in for tea, Teemy. You must.” How could I refuse this?I had never dared to venture through the door before this moment. I was a bit frightened as I did so. “You seet, Teemy,” she said, leading me into a living room. I rested, cradled in comfy cushions bedecked with lace antimacassars. I could smell the furniture polish and soak in the patina of age that seemed to settle on everything.

Then, I shot out of my seat, drawn to an opposite wall. It was covered with decorations, almost a shrine. There were dreamed newspaper clippings (“Tichey Scores 38 in Tourney Win”); pictures of Lloyd as an All-Stater. Handshakes, trophies: a celebration of Lloyd’s career. Looking further, I could see clips from my Who’s Who in American Colleges honors. Even that shot from an old Billboard when they handed out those Sesame Street gold records.

I stood there, in awe (was it joy? terror?) as she brought in the tea. She sensed my questions as we sat.“

I had no keeds, Teemy. You and Lloyd--good boys. Noisy but good. So I follow you, like you was my own boys.”

As the murky, late-afternoon sun slithered through the blinds, I could hear the thump of a ball and the shouts of youth. I fought tears mightily.

Somehow, it all made sense.

[pcssessicn]

☆ . · . miguel bernardeau, twenty-one, male, he / him . · . ☆ fitzwilliam 'fitz' phénix-alvarez lives in that huge mansion over there! no, not that one. look for white stucco walls & terracotta shingles and that’ll be it. the nhl defenseman has offered occasional glimpses of soft yellow walls and an impressive collection of plants in the background of social media posts, but all of that is nothing compared to seeing the opulence in person. they’ve remained protective as ever since moving to tercet court two months ago, but it seems like they might’ve gotten a little more mistrustful too. maybe that’s why they’re rumored to have such a distant relationship with everyone else who lives on this street. ☆ . · . ooc info: ollie, they / them, 21, est . · . ☆ career claim: cale ma/kar.

BASICS

Full name: Fitzwilliam Phénix-Alvarez Nickname: Fitz Birth date: September 29th Languages: English, Spanish, Quebecois Francois Hometown: 

PHYSICAL

Age: 21 Weight: 196 lbs Height: 6′2″ Body build: athletic, lean Eye color: grey-blue Faceclaim: Miguel Bernardeau Glasses or contacts: neither 

Tattoos: a raven in flight over his left shoulder blade, monochromatic vines winding up his left bicep

Scars: most predominantly a thin scar near the base of his neck where a skate slashed him when he was fourteen ; several other smaller scars of less note, especially on his hands --- much less noticeable

PERSONALITY

Good personality traits: observant, calculating, protective Bad personality traits: mistrustful, dishonest, aggressive 

Fitz comes across as very confident and in control, and at ease in his skin. The truth couldn’t be farther from it. He works hard to put forward the easy front he does --- and some days he can’t tell which one is more real. He has a dishonest smile that masquerades as honest, and a tendency to manipulate those around him when necessary to shed suspicion off himself. He can be almost charming at times, at least extremely amiable. Despite all this, Fitz is not rash or impulsive -- in fact everything he does is carefully calculated, though he goes to great lengths so it does not come across as so. The one place he feels truly effortless is on the ice.

He finds it hard to truly allow people close to him and to really see beyond the most superficial layers of himself. Furthermore, there is a deep-seated fear of not being enough and being forgotten ; he finds it easier to not let anyone close so there’s less chance of this happening.

THE STORY ( i rly was gunna try to write this nice and eloquently but... u get this instead 😔 )

— fitz was born to up and coming spanish actress reyna alvarez in chicago. the result of a messy one-night stand, but reyna ultimately decided to keep the baby. he is indeed named after fitzwilliam darcy from pride and prejudice bc his mother’s first breakout role was in a film adaptation of the book and she loved the book after reading it. how unfortunate for him.

— his birth father was never in the picture, but the man he would come to know as his father came into the picture a year or so after his birth. already one of the top architects in north america, paul robert phenix was in chicago for a conference and he and reyna fell in love. fitz has been told it’s was all very romantic. so then the happy family moved to pittsburgh where his father’s architecture firm was based.

— despite growing up with two parents who raked in a fair amount of cash, they made sure nothing was just given to fitz. they’d both had their humble beginnings and big believers in tough love, they made sure not to spoil their son. they did however make sure he was sheltered from the media when it poked around and the two things they did pay for without question were his education and sports.

— he started playing hockey when he was six after seeing a pens game on tv while they were out at dinner and knowing he just had to do it --- and never stopped. he got recruited to the us national team development program when he was sixteen and spent his last two years of high school in michigan living with a billet family most do who are with the program, which gave him a huge sense of “normalcy.” but really he was far from normal, his development taking great steps over those two years leading up to his draft year.

— queue the cale ma/kar career claim lads aka all the hockey development & logistics u can probably skip if u don’t care laksdjf: 

 one year before graduation and a draft, he vocally committed to playing at university of massachusetts - amherst. he went fourth overall to the la kings in the 2017 draft ( yeah technically irl that pick belonged to the avs but sh ), and proceeded to remain loyal to his commitment and play two years at umass despite his new top five prospect status. he was put into a first pair role from the start of his freshman year ( 2017-18 ), was a huge part in bringing the umass team up from the bottom of the standings. he plays for team usa in world juniors 2017 and 2018.

his sophomore year ( 2018-19 ), they make it all the way to the frozen four. fitz gets announced as the hobey baker winner and the day after they get knocked out of the tournament. not long after that he signs his entry contract with the kings and finishes out the season with them. he scores his first nhl goal on his first shot in game 3 of the first round of playoffs irl the kings don’t make playoffs but again shh. they get knocked out in the first round and fitz goes home and trains harder than ever.

he come back to kings training camp the next season ( 2019-20 ) more determined than ever to make the team. he does so out of camp and has an incredible rookie campaign. he gets injured in december and misses a few games but is back mid-january. fitz is given the calder ( award that goes to the best rookie in the nhl ) at the end of the season. technically cale hasn’t won this yet but we all know he will.

— la is a bustling city and fitz is a fan of one night stands : he just doesn’t feel like he has time for a relationship and hookups scratch that itch. he’s not an asshole about it, really. there is typically that understanding that this is a one time, no strings attached thing. but this one girl he sleeps with in march obviously does not get this memo and continues to not get the memo. she starts seriously stalking him in the following months and eventually he gets a restraining order against her ( use ur imagination kids ). he’s not really comfortable staying in his own apartment downtown for the time being though after he still sees her around. he stays with a teammate until the season ends, which then brings us to his connection to tercet court.

— paul robert phenix, now world reknowned architect, had a hand in designing several of the homes on tercet court, including one in the style of old money spanish mediterrianian villas that he designed with his wife in mind to be their new home. fitz’s mother had loved the house and moved in for a few years after the court opened but with her taking fewer roles up in the movie industry and getting exceedingly more lonely, she decided to embrace the more nomadic livestyle of her husband and moved out about a year and a half ago. since then the home stood vacant ( though certainly still cared for by several paid landscapers and maids ) until fitz’s dilemma arose a few months ago.

— a few phone calls and a begrudging agreement to pay the extremely steep taxes on the place for the year ( again, tough love and fitz may be a pro-athlete but he’s still making less than a million a year with his entry level contract ), and fitz moved in about two months ago ( say mid-may ).

MISC

— tri-lingual. father is french-canadian and his mother is spanish. needless to say he grew up a little confused. that worked itself out soon enough though. uses he uses quebois french in-season kind of frequently to talk to a couple teammates. really only uses his spanish to talk to his mother and family.

— since moving in fitz has filled the mansion with plants. he absolutely does not seem like a plant guy but he is... absolutely loves it. his major at umass was kinesology bc he thought it would be the most helpful and knew he wasn’t going to graduate but he snuck in some out-of-major classes on horticulture. truly just likes plants a lot. they don’t judge him.

— probably set up his own puck shooting pad in the backyard. why not there’s enough space. he had to retrieve a couple pucks from the bottom of the pool though which has been good incentive to not miss the net lmao. he also has revamped one of the rooms in the house to have synthetic ice.

— runs in the morning before it gets hot. skates a few days of the week in the afternoon. home gym in the house is definitely a perk but he prefers to work out with others because it feels more productive.

— probably drives like. a range rover.

— offensive defenseman. likes to jump up in the rush and is good at break out passes as well as zone entry. earned his place quarterbacking the first powerplay towards the end of the season. he can be quite physical when he needs to be though and don’t ever go after his goalie. ( his nhl.com player page )

— he’s not a recluse by any means, but he has no desire to built connections in tercet court so probably hasn’t actively reached out. they’re likely to have met outside of the small community or if your character forcibly came and introduced themselves. or if they knew each other already mayhaps??

— oh and he’s bi. like really really bi. obv not advertised given his career path but he’s not having some crisis over it either. it just is. probably has a stack of nda’s next to the condoms ready to go at anytime alsdkfj.

OOC

hey lads. i’m ollie !! for those around for round 1.0 of this rp i played alya ( the sports photog ). i am back and this time going back to what i do best : playing hockey boys 😔😔😔.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight: 88 Lines About 44 Average Movies Not Worth Reviewing

In the year 1981, Marc Campbell and David Kaufman of the Nails got together and wrote out one of the single greatest songs of all time: “88 Lines About 44 Women.” The song is exactly what it says it is; it is a song, 88 lines long, with two lines each describing a different women. Some of these women are based on real people the two men knew, while other women described in the song are made up. Originally released in 1981 as the first side of the EP Hotel for Women with minimal production - the backing of the song was basically a single droning synth - it was eventually polished up and rerecorded for 1984. The deadpan delivery of the song as well as its general quirkiness and oddball concept has helped make it a beloved obscure 80s song ever since.

Fast forward to… I dunno, the mid to late 2000s? Whenever it was that I watched AMV Hell /0, where it was used in one of the few clips that didn’t feature some absolutely fucked up fetish. It just had good old fashioned bathtub maturation! Anyway, that's how I stumbled across this quirky little song, and fell in love with its odd delivery and peculiar list-like structure. I always wished I could do a parody of it, but it was never meant to be…

Until now! In the year 2020, I came to a decision that would help me finally get a lot of movies out of my system: I’d do a little parody of this odd song and list 44 films that I just don’t think are worth getting a full review with two lines to each film. These are all movies I’ve watched and under any other circumstance would probably make for good reviews… but I just find them too average or just not interesting to talk about to want to dedicate my time to writing out an entire minimum 500 words review. Two lines is what they deserve, that’s good enough.

Anyway, I’m certainly not going to pretend I’m as good as Campbell and Kaufman, but here’s what I managed to punch out by sifting through the mound of perfectly average films I just don’t think deserve elaboration or discussion on my blog... not cuz I think they’re bad or anything, for the most part. I just don’t feel these films engaged me enough for me to make a review of them interesting. Anyway, here we go:

Scorpion King helped launch The Rock It’s a solid Conan clone

My Little Pony is a corny kids film Worth watching for the Smooze alone

Caveman’s an okay Ringo vehicle Decent effects and ambitious at least

Equestria Girl’s a so-so commercial Whose first sequel has it beat

Meatballs, a standard old school camp film By any means, it’s not the worst

Man of Steel is bleak and unfun But Cavill will make you thirst

Prince of Persia’s not that bad But the casting’s rather shit

Yellowbeard has a stellar cast Wasted on a tacky script

Blades of Glory, not amazing But I guess Kanye thinks it’s neat

Smallfoot tackles heavy topics decently Using cryptids with big feet

Nick and Norah is your average Indie cornball romance schlock

I Am Legend would have been awesome If the theatrical ending wasn’t crock

Bender’s Game is a filler film Pointless fluff that’s just not clever

Razorback’s a killer pig flick But other killer animals are better

The Revenant is just okay How did Leo win for THIS?

Illumination’s Grinch is okay Not spectacular, but not shit

Observe and Report is basically Just an edgier Paul Blart

Cheaper By the Dozen’s a bit corny But it has humor and heart

Anchorman 2 is wholly unneeded But hey, there’s Stonewall Jackson’s ghost!

Anger Management’s a Sandler film But not one that sucks the most

Enduring Love’s just Fatal Attraction But just a little bit more gay

For Your Eyes Only’s a Bond outing That’s unremarkable in every way

From Hell’s a Jack the Ripper film That got Alan Moore to rage and rant

The Ring’s ok for PG-13 horror But it won’t make you shit your pants

The Rescuers is a weak film With a few good bits going for it

Soylent Green’s a relevant dystopia But you already know the twist

Fantasia 2000 is like the original Less impressive, but the animation’s nice

Die Hard 2 is just the first film Same shit happened to the same guy twice

The Sword in the Stone would just be a footnote If not for the squirrel girl and Mim

Hugo’s a passable Scorcese kid film Who expected that from him?

The Notebook is a solid romance But the ending’s sadder than the book

Frankenweenie’s not Burton’s best work But it’s mostly cute and worth a look

Hanna’s your standard action thriller You’ve seen this song and dance before

Zack and Mirri Make a Porno With a title like that you’d expect more

Birdman is pretentious wank But Michael Keaton’s performance rocks

Teen Wolf’s a bit of a novelty But who can hate Michael J. Fox?

Urban Legend’s a standard 90s Post-Scream snarky slasher flick

Dogtooth is a hard watch With subject matter that’s quite sick

Super 8 is basically A less engaging Stranger Things

Horrible Bosses is mostly unpleasant But I did enjoy a couple things

Fast Times at Ridgemont High Is cliche, trite, and doesn’t try

Bridge to Terabithia’s main appeal lies In how hard it will make you cry

Jack Reacher’s a bland action film That stars a Scientologist

Manticore, classic SyFy shit I’ll just let it end this list

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Ridge farm memories; Queen x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Well this fic is DEFINITELY LONG OVER DUE!!!! For those who were fans of the Deacy fic “Always family” here is a scene I decided to do based off the comforting scene Roger and reader-chan had. So no warnings except RAW FLUFF but if I had to add a warning, it would be that SOB Paul makes an appearance. But other than that this is a SUPREME FLUFF FIC. So I hope you all enjoy this fic as well as the last one I just posted up :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@queendeakyy

@coolcxt

@geek-and-proud

__________________________________________________

I was downstairs in the kitchen sitting between Deacy and Brian eating my breakfast while they were in the middle of an argument regarding Rog's new song.

"Put my heart and soul into this song." Roger spoke up as he cut up a loaf of bread.

"No one is disputing that." Answered Deacy.

"And you don't like it because you want your songs on the album." Roger retorted.

"It's not that Roger."

"Then what is it?"

"'I'm in love with my car?'" Answered Brian as my cousin shrugged giving him one of his funny looks. "Maybe it's not strong enough?" suggested Brian.

"What does that even mean not strong enough?"

"I know that I'm late, what did I miss?" Freddie's voice soon spoke up.

"They're talking about Roger's car song." I filled Fred in on the details as he came over and kissed the top of my head before getting himself a cup of coffee.

"Is it strong enough that's all I'm asking. If I'm on my own here, then I apologize." Brian spoke up as he raised his hands in defense.

"How does your new song go then? Hmm?" Roger picked up a sheet of paper that had Brian's current song that he was working on as he read out loud, "'You call me sweet, like I'm some kind of cheese'."

"It's good." Defended Brian.

"Wow." Roger exclaimed sarcastically.

"Is that, you know 'with my hands on your grease gun?' That's very subtle...."

"It's a metaphor Brian!"

"It's just a bit weird Roger, what exactly are you doing with that car?" my cousin spoke up.

"Children please. We could all murder each other but then who would be left to record this album?" Freddie spoke up.

"Statistically speaking most bands don't fail, they break up." Deacy piped in.

"Deacy!" I slapped his arm.

"What the hell would you say something like that?" Freddie asked Deacy as he stared at him in shock. Deacy merely shrugged before Freddie turned to Roger and said, "Roger there's only room in this band for one hysterical queen." Before walking out to probably have a smoke break.

"I know why you're angry Roger." Brian spoke up.

"Why?" demanded Roger.

"Because you know your song isn't strong enough." Roger grew quiet and he nodded before walking back over to the oven, grabbing the bacon from the pan and throwing it straight at Brian who was unaffected by it.

"Oh great, now you've done it. Way to go, Bri." I muttered quietly just before the bacon hit Brian square in the face.

"Is that strong enough?" Then with one quick motion, Roger knocked everything off the counter, all our food, plates, the vase full of flowers, everything except our mugs that we each held as Roger roared out again, "What about that!?!" He then went and grabbed the coffee machine and was just about to smash it when we all exclaimed to him.

"NOT THE COFFEE MACHINE!!"

It's been a few days since we've moved from Rockfield studios here to Ridge farm studio to record the 'A Night at the Opera' album. And so far if I had to compare the two, I'd say I'd like this one a lot more because it had a nice pool to take a morning dip and it was a lot more spacious than Rockfield was because there was also a wooded area just behind us where we could hike, hell even campout if we wanted to.

After breakfast I decided to take my morning swim since I knew Paul would be breathing down my neck about getting all the pictures the record company required during this trip, and of course bash on how most of them didn't include more pictures of Fred. So I figured a little relaxing swim would do me some good, plus it'd get me away from the stress the guys are having to be under especially after what had just happened at breakfast.

As I passed the kitchen heading for the backdoor, I felt something grab my arm and I was pulled into a dark room. I was about to scream when I heard Roger's voice say.

"Don't scream it's just me." I shoved his hand away from my mouth and I hissed out in a whisper.

"What the fuck Roger you know I hate it when you do that."

"Why are you whispering?"

"Wha? I don't know. What are you doing here in this cupboard?" I first questioned in a whisper but then spoke in normal volume.

"Lesson number one you'll learn from your dear old professor Taylor my dear. Is that when you want something but other's won't give them what they want, you protest against them."

"Seriously Rog?"

"Yeah, I stayed up all night putting that song together, the least they could do is allow it in the album. I mean we went with John's sappy song. God if I have to hear that line one more time, I think my ears will just explode."

"Okay one that song is special to him cause it's for Veronica. And second and most importantly, why drag me in here with you?"

"That leads to my rule two, in order to get this less biased, you need people to support you in your cause." I just looked at him weirdly and when I didn't respond the way he was hoping he spoke up again, "What you think the song's stupid too?"

"Well I mean it's—"

"Don't you dare finish that answer." I shut my mouth before speaking up.

"I mean Roger you've got to slightly admit; it does sound like you're trying to do something more with a piece of machinery."

"It's a metaphor (y/n)."

"For what? Your car sex fantasy? Roger please let me out of this cupboard right now, I just want to go for my morning swim."

"Well it can wait; cause you're not going anywhere."

"What?"

"This has now turned into a hostage situation and you're not leaving till either you accept and be my partner in this, or the lads finally accept and have the song go on the album. Whatever one comes first. You are the Rumpelstiltskin to my Mungoblizzar."

"What?"

"You know the two cats from that poem you love so much. I see you read it all the time and you even read it to me."

"Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer?"

"Yeah that's it. Why are they named that again?"

"I don't know I'm not T.S Eliot."

"So partners in crime till the end. Like we pact."

"Yeah Rog we did make a pact, but I draw the line here."

"Nope, since I'm the oldest between us, you've got to respect your elders and you are going to stay in here with me to protest against them. Whether you like it or not." He bopped my nose which made me groan.

Hours went by and of course once the guys found out that roger forcefully made me the bait of negotiation, it turned between a tug of war to see who'd give in first. Until finally Freddie agreed to have Roger's song be on the B-side of the album.

God and all I wanted to do that day was have a nice relaxing morning swim.

A couple more weeks passed and the album was almost about done. One day Brian had told us that he had managed to find a perfect spot for stargazing and thought it would be a good idea for all of us to pack up some gear and go star gazing.

Immediately agreeing after working so hard, Freddie agreed to the idea instantly, Deacy was down for it as well wanting to have a break from the arguing and the complaining. I agreed to it because it would feel like a camping trip and I hadn't been camping since I was a child. Roger also agreed because that'd give him some time away from the recording studio since his hands were still recovering from abusing them so much.

Unfortunately Paul Prenter decided he needed to insert himself on this little outing, claiming that he needed to make sure the band wasn't too distracted since they were on a strict deadline and that Mr. Reid would come and check on the progress of the album, along with Miami.

So here we all were out in the forest walking across logs, hopping from boulder to boulder, gazing at little mini streams, or observing the wildlife of nature, especially Brian. He especially got distracted when a fox would quickly come out from a bush and stare at us before running away.

I was currently hopping from boulder to boulder and of course Deacy being the overprotective cousin that he was said to me.

"Careful (y/n), last time you did that you had a broken ankle for weeks."

"I was 7 years old when that happened Deacy, I'm as agile as a jungle cat." As I hopped onto one boulder I nearly almost fell until I was caught by Roger who said smugly.

"Yeah, a dead jungle cat." I stuck my tongue at him and we continued to tread on.

Of course Paul made the walk seem longer because like every 2 minutes he just had to take a break so I took the time to screw around with him and fill his backpack with small rocks. Roger who of course supported my pranks on Prenter kept watch to make sure the other three didn't rat me out.

As we came down a step hill. I first got on the log and walked down it before squealing out and jumped onto the boulders below.

"Careful guys, that last step is pretty steep."

"Thanks for the warning love." Brian spoke out as he came down next, followed by Roger, Freddie and Deacy. While Paul mainly crawled along the rocks like the snake that he was exhausted and winded.

"Ohh I'm going to kill my doctor. He always said I was in perfect shape." Before we could go on, Brian then spoke up.

"Alright, we'll break."

"Again?" complained Roger. "Brian, at this rate it'll take us a week just to get to this special spot you found."

"Look I don't like it either but since it's not too far from here we'll just rest for a bit, allow Paul to catch his breath and we'll walk the rest of the way. Just chill Roger." He then walked on ahead with Deacy and Fred walking alongside them to talk while I slowly sneaked back behind Paul who had taken his backpack off and I proceeded to quickly fill more pockets of his bag with rocks.

"God I'm in such bad shape. Someone had me my water, I can't move."

"I got it." I said. I soon found his water bottle lying between the two boulders that we were sitting on top of but what I found interesting was the little lizard just a couple inches from his water bottle just sunning on the rock. A smirk spread across my face as I whispered, "Brilliant."

I grabbed the lizard which squirmed between my fingers till I set her down on Paul's bottle. I turned to Roger to see him trying to hold in his laughter as I said as I handed Paul his water bottle.

"Here you go Paul." He took it without even looking at me let alone thanking me as he immediately began to douse his water down his throat. A split second later he let out a scream as he fell off the boulder and screamed like a little girl waving his arms in a shooing motion as his legs spasmed.

"What's happened?" asked Deacy. I then grabbed the female lizard and said as I held her gently between my fingers.

"This cute little girl made herself home on Paul's water bottle." I stroked her long tail as Freddie said.

"Be thankful it was just a lizard Paul. It could've been a lot worse you know."

"Oh right, right you're right Freddie. I'll be fine, thank you." I rolled my eyes as did Roger and pretty much the rest of the guys minus Fred because we all knew of Paul's infatuation with Fred. I then held the lizard out towards Paul so that when he turned after milking his praises, the second he turned the lizard squeaking in his face making Paul shriek out as he told me, "Get that bloody thing away from me! I hate things that crawl!"

Wow then I pity the poor child that you'll have to bear one of these days Paul, though I hope you never reproduce your poisonous seeds.

"How can you even touch that, I thought girls were supposed to hate things like that? Just—put it away!"

"Okay, okay I'll put her down." I muttered as I stood up before an even better idea came to mind. I slowly leaned over Paul's head and placed the lizard on top of his head.

"Rog, (n/n)." Deacy spoke up.

"What?" Both Roger and I chorused alarmed almost fearing I had been caught.

"Brian, Freddie and I will take the lead. You two help Paul, okay?" As the three of them walked ahead, Roger came up beside me before Paul as the mustached arsehole muttered as he stood himself up with his backpack once again on his back.

"Sure you'll help me. Right over a cliff you'll help me." He then walked on ahead complaining and muttering in pain as Roger whispered to me.

"Not a bad idea."

"Yeah see any cliffs? I doubt he's got anyone that'll really miss him." We turned towards Paul who was still muttering in agony as I spoke up in mock sympathy. "Need some help Prenter?" He stopped in his place and turned towards me as he sneered through his forked tongue.

"Not from you Deacon. Don't think I can't see the She-devil behind that angel face of yours. One more trick out of you lass and I promise I will make your life hell from the day this album takes off into the charts. Got it?" Roger protectively wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I was unaffected by Paul's empty threat before he turned around.

"Got it, Norman Bates." I muttered. Roger snickered as Paul froze and turned around and hissed out.

"What did you call me?"

"Nothing, nothing she didn't say anything. Norman Bates." Roger muttered as the two of us walked past him. He muttered the name to me and I softly snickered as Roger stopped to say, "Oh by the way Prenter, I think I saw something on your head." He then turned back and followed behind me.

The two of us hid behind a tree while Roger peeked out and I could hear Paul scream before it was silenced for all but his whimpering.

"Oh my god." Roger was almost in complete hysterics. "You brilliant She-devil it went in his mouth."

"Oh that poor lizard." We fist-bumped each other as we saw the guys coming around as Brian was asking what happened now as Paul was now coughing and groaning in disgust.

"What.....happened now?" asked Freddie panting. Paul was gasping like a fish out of water but I did manage to hear.

"Ask—her....." I then heard Deacy sigh heavily and I could just feel him looking behind him towards the tree we were hiding. Roger and I peeked out innocently as Roger said.

"Oh come off it Deacy what did she do? She was by my side the entire time."

Finally we reached Brian's spot. It was a nice open meadow filled with beautiful wildflowers as far as the eye could see. All in various species and colors, there was also some points when the creatures of the forest would peek out like deer, does with their fawns, badgers, foxes and even a couple of hedgehogs.

I definitely got some good pictures of the wildlife as well as the flowers and of course the boys. By nightfall we were all gathered around and I'll admit Brian was right, this was the perfect spot for stargazing. I mean you look up and there's just billions and billions of them.

"Wow Brian, you—were right this is.....gorgeous." said Deacy.

"Told you." Brian spoke up.

"It's so unreal of just how many stars there really are in the sky." Said Freddie.

"I could live here forever if it meant getting to look at this every night." I said in awe.

"I agree with you on that love." Brian said.

"Hey Brian, do you ever wonder what lies beyond our world? I mean as an astrophysics major does it ever occur to you that maybe we're not the only beings in the universe?" I asked him.

"That's always the question love, and that's why astronauts and the people at NASA always work so hard. We've already managed to colonize the moon, who knows what we'll be able to accomplish in the future. And maybe we might discover something far beyond our solar system."

"Cool." I said in awe. "Hey Bri?"

"Hmm?"

"How—how do constellations get named? I mean do the astronomers just look at an image and just say 'oh hey we'll name this the Big Dipper and little dipper' or is it more scientifically?"

"Oh don't get him started (n/n), we'll be here all night." Roger spoke up. Brian scowled at Roger but said.

"Ignore him (y/n), he's just jealous you're not asking questions about dentistry."

"You know I changed my major to biology." Roger pointed out but Brian only chuckled and sat up allowing me to go up to him and actually rest my head on his lap as he spoke.

"Well to answer your question (y/n), it's sometimes varies. It sometimes does deal with the actual formation that the stars make, but that's because their names have dated back to the ancient Greek and Roman days when the first astronomers began mapping the stars. We've just added more onto what was previously said."

"So what did you do for your major?" I asked.

"My current thesis is about the radical velocities in zodiacal dust cloud. I completed it just last year but I'm putting in on hold for publication for a while due to my commitment here."

"Will you ever get it published?" I asked.

"Someday. It'd be ashamed and a waste of my time if I didn't. Hours spent doing research on my thesis and everything for it to not be shared with the field of astrophysics."

"You know science was always my favorite subject, I especially loved it when we got to do the astronomy section."

"Really?"

"It's true. Ever since primary school she's been obsessed with space, planets and the stars." Deacy spoke up.

"Now not to judge on why you picked up photography, but why didn't you try to go for a science degree?"

"Because every boy in my grade always said 'science isn't for girls'. I got teased about it relentlessly. Then one day after coming home with a bloody nose I decided to keep my mouth shut and find something else."

"Well they were obviously jealous that a girl was not only cute but too smart for their feeble little minds." Proclaimed Freddie. I blushed after remembering the baby pictures of me that the boys have seen when they all came to visit me and aunt Lillian on my birthday just a few months ago. Of course Deacy helped out with the embarrassment just to irk me.

"Freddie's right love. I won't tell you to change your dream because you've got a future in photography, but if it doesn't work out then you should try to give science another chance. Clever girl like you, I know you'll get far." Said Brian.

"You mean that?"

"Of course." He playfully poked the tip of my nose which made me laugh as we continued to observe the stars. With the gentle strokes he was giving my head, the sound of the crickets making a beautiful symphony and the beauty of the stars, I soon found myself falling asleep in Brian's lap.

*3rd Person POV*

Brian looked down to see (y/n) asleep in his lap. He smiled softly and softly whispered to the boys.

"Lads, take a look." Freddie awed softly and said.

"She's like a cat when she sleeps."

"I think it is time we head back to the house." Answered Deacy.

"About time." Paul muttered as he stood up. Roger and Deacy glared at Paul. Brian gently picked her up and to help make the trip easier so that she wouldn't wake up, he placed her on Deacy's back and he gripped his cousin's legs while Brian adjusted her arms around her cousin's neck.

Feeling the transition, (y/n) buried her face into her cousin's neck, his long hair gently tickling her face and the five of them headed back to the house.

Once they got there, Deacy and Brian helped (y/n) into her bed, Brian helped eased (y/n) into the bed while Deacy covered and tucked her in. The two of them kissed her goodnight and whispered their goodnights to her before heading off to their rooms.

The stress of making an album is straining, so its always nice to find those little spaces in between to find the time to have some fun and keep the peace. Whether it's a nice relaxing swim in the summer heat, having fun with the farm animals, or just stargazing in the cool summer heat.

Luckily with Queen they managed to find the time to do it, especially when their little mini-Deacy was around. Because they hated for her to be bored, so they always made time to pull anything that might interest her just to make her day better. And when she was happy, they were happy.

[jobrosupdates]

‘We needed to speak our truth – and forgive’: Jonas Brothers on music, marriage and making up | The Guardian

Six years ago, on the back of 17m album sales, the Disney stars split, devastating their fans. Now they’re back with a No 1 single. They talk about family rifts – and why it took so long to patch things up

“Good to see you,” smiles Kevin Jonas, the first of three Jonas brothers to arrive in the back room of an upmarket hotel in Fitzrovia, London. Kevin and I have indeed met before, many years ago, for an interview he has no reason to remember. Between then and today, the Jonas Brothers have split and now re-formed, and for anyone querying just how in sync the newly reunited band are, Joe is the next to join us. “Good to see you,” he says. A few seconds later, here comes Nick: “Good to see you.”

It is three months since they announced their reunion, more than half a decade since a split that was blamed on a “deep rift within the band”. The pandemonium surrounding their getting back together, which has seen Sucker become the band’s first US No 1 single, feels like a mirror image of how fans reacted to the brutality and abruptness of the split in 2013, when, having sold 17m albums and achieved widespread international fame, the brothers ditched a half-made fifth album and cancelled a world tour they were in the middle of. Nick instigated the split, it emerged; there were musical differences, along with the deep rift.

I ask them how being back and once again hurling themselves into full days of press, fan meets-and-greets and invite-only concerts is going. Kevin is the first to respond: “Well, we haven’t wanted to break up yet.”

The Jonas Brothers began life as a standard teen band. Columbia Records had already released solo music by Nick, who had been performing on Broadway since he was seven. (Today, he describes his seven-year-old self as “incredibly driven and focused and not very fun to be around”, which prompts a knowing laugh from older brother Kevin.) The preposterously wholesome New Jersey brothers’ cover of Busted’s Year 3000, in which their vision of the future referenced girls with “round hair like Star Wars” rather than Busted’s “triple-breasted women”, brought modest success. But when their debut album flopped, Columbia dropped the band and around the same time, their father, a pastor whose involvement in the church had a big impact on the family, lost his job. Joe was 17, Kevin was 19; Nick was just 14. “Lost in the shuffle of major label ‘stuff’,” is how Nick puts it now. At the time, emotions ran higher. “We felt like our journey had come to an end.”

But in the words of another sibling pop band, it had only just begun. In 2007, just weeks after leaving Columbia, the band signed with Disney’s record label Hollywood. Disney’s pitch to the Jonas Brothers was simple, according to Nick. “They called and said: ‘You’ve been working with someone who doesn’t know how to market to this audience. This is literally what we do. We see an opportunity and we want to help you grow.’” Disney’s power had already become obvious to the band when the Year 3000 video was played on one of its TV channels. “I saw our Myspace followers go from 100 to 10,000 in just one day,” Joe says.

Only with hindsight is it clear just how effectively the Disney machine made good on its promise. They inserted the Jonas Brothers, albeit not as the Jonas Brothers, into the TV show Hannah Montana, as Miley Cyrus’s favourite band, in an episode that aired directly after the premiere of High School Musical 2. They gave the siblings their own sitcom, Jonas, in which they played a band (again, not the Jonas Brothers). Then came the movie Camp Rock, in which the Jonas Brothers starred alongside Demi Lovato as the band Connect 3. Once again, not the Jonas Brothers, a strategy Joe now recognises as both “genius and confusing”, but the audience joined the dots, thanks in part to another series, Living The Dream – a fly-on-the-wall show in which the band finally starred as themselves.

Those years involved so many of what Nick describes as “pinch-me-I’m-a-Jonas-Brother moments”, such as performing at the White House as favourites of the Obama administration. Joe recalls playing with Stevie Wonder at the Grammys. “The curtains open and there’s Paul McCartney and Chris Martin, and they’re the first ones out of their seats.” They were applauding, not leaving. “Obviously it was for Stevie Wonder, but that felt rewarding.”

Inconveniently, the brothers, being living organisms, got older, and while the Jonas Brothers owe their success to Disney it was inevitable that they would outgrow the channel’s values. Joe wrote a frank assessment of that time for New York magazine in 2013, saying the band were like “frightened little kids” when faced with Disney’s demands for a clean-cut band. Today, he says simply that Disney was “very helpful when we needed it the most”.

Internally, things were also complex. There is a throwaway comment in one episode of Living the Dream in which the brothers discuss their father, who by that point had taken on the role of the band’s co-manager: “The problem is, we’re never sure when he’s just being dad.” Equally, the band realised the line between brother and bandmate was frequently, inevitably, ill-defined. “Sometimes you just want a dad, sometimes you just want a brother,” Joe says today. “There was confusion when it came to family versus band, and what comes first.”

“When the band broke up, he balanced both really well,” Nick says of their father. “Because I had initiated the conversation for the group to break up, he was comforting to me while I spoke my truth. Then when Joe and Kevin’s reaction was complicated, he was a father to them, and managerial to me.”

I ask Joe and Kevin if they can expand on “complicated”. “Sure,” Joe says. “I was mad as hell.”

The split, Joe says, wasn’t something he was expecting, even if the signs were all there: “The music wasn’t as strong as it had been, we weren’t selling as many tickets. And our relationship was unhealthy. We weren’t communicating as we should have been.” Still, Joe remembers thinking that things would work themselves out. “I kind of just assumed we’d get through this bad phase and something great would happen again.”

By 2009, the Jonas Brothers had been releasing an album every summer since 2006 but their fourth album, Lines, Vines and Trying Times, sold less than half its predecessor, and less than a third of the band’s breakthrough album. After that, Nick and Joe released solo albums, which were poorly received. I ask if the failure of those initial solo outings, followed by the ill-fated retreat to the safety of the band, could have fostered resentment that led to the eventual split. Joe nods. “I wanted to at least get that personal win of being able to do something on my own, which I carried for many years, just thinking: ‘I can’t do anything without these guys.’”

After the band’s split in 2013, Kevin spent time with his wife, Danielle, raising their two daughters, starting a construction company and investing in a handful of ventures including a food app called Yood and a service for social influencers called The Blu Market. Nick released two albums, resulting in some decent airplay and chart hits such as the 2014 single Jealous. Joe formed a band, DNCE, whose 2015 billion-stream behemoth Cake By the Ocean was No 1 from Ecuador to Israel. Despite movie roles for both (Nick in Goat and Jumanji, Joe as a voice actor in Hotel Transylvania 3), and a slot judging on Australia’s The Voice for Joe, their projects hit a wall – one of the tracks from DNCE’s latest EP has broken 7m Spotify streams, while Cake By the Ocean stands at 806m.

Although the brothers were hardly estranged during this period, there was a multi-platinum elephant in the room at family events. In 2017 came the idea of a Jonas Brothers documentary, Chasing Happiness, which is out this week on Amazon. The main aim was closure. “We definitely didn’t think we were going to get back together,” Joe says. During one pivotal moment the band took part in a drinking game (the documentary was not being made by Disney), in which residual issues were pulled out of a hat, and each member rated the other on the honesty of their responses. “We all needed to speak our truth, and be able to forgive,” Nick says. “It’s easy. Say the truth, then it’s behind you. Just say it out loud.”

The brothers insist the plan was simply to draw a line under the band, but a full reunion happened anyway. They contacted the songwriter and producer Ryan Tedder, who has worked with everyone from Adele to U2. They knew they needed to update to reflect pop’s new sound, and what Nick describes as “the ever-changing landscape of the way music is released and how people consume it. We were conscious that there would always be a new wave of entertainers you can feel you’re in competition with but rather than be frustrated with how quickly things change, we’ve chosen to lean into it.” Tedder’s early enthusiasm for the project gave the band the confidence to approach other pop overlords such as Greg Kurstin and Max Martin. “Before,” Joe says, “when it was slowing down, we were nervous to reach out to big producers and writers, thinking they would say no to working with us.”

The result is an album, Happiness Begins, that is arguably better than anything the band made in their earlier years. Free from the late-00s shackles of over-enthusiastic hair straightening, the Jonas Brothers rather suit being older. They seem happy that their audiences in 2019 will generally have drinks in their hands and much like the fans who have grown up with them, these brothers seem more like individuals, too, from Nick in his designer bomber jacket to Kevin in an unassuming lumberjack shirt.

The march of age – Nick is 27, Joe, 29, and Kevin, 31 – also means the brothers are no longer synonymous with the purity rings they once wore as a display of abstinence, which quickly became the target of a rather odd media obsession. Nick has since said that the purity rings ended up shaping his view of sex. “They did,” he restates today. How? “The values behind the idea of understanding what sex is, and what it means, are incredibly important. When I have children, I’ll make sure they understand the importance of sex, and consent, and all the things that are important. What’s discouraging about that chapter of our life is that at 13 or 14 my sex life was being discussed. It was very tough to digest it in real time, trying to understand what it was going to mean to me, and what I wanted my choices to be, while having the media speaking about a 13-year-old’s sex life. I don’t know if it would fly in this day and age. Very strange.”

In any case, the band are all now married. Kevin got hitched to Danielle a decade ago while Nick’s wife is the actor Priyanka Chopra, and Joe married Sophie Turner, Game of Thrones’ Sansa Stark, in a Las Vegas ceremony last month. All three significant others feature in the video for Sucker. “Sophie was pretty adamant that she play the love interest in every music video we do from now on,” Joe notes. “I told her I didn’t think that was possible, but we’d give her the first one.” I ask him if there’s been a strange atmosphere, with one major chapter ending for Turner just as a new one begins for Joe. “We’ve definitely spoken about that. It’s difficult to say goodbye to one … But it’s amazing timing that we could be starting our life together right now.”

The couple’s refreshing approach to dealing with paparazzi in New York, where they live – staring them out, giving them the finger – often sees them go viral. “Early on, we were trying to be secretive about our relationship,” Joe explains. The problem? “We like to sit outside. Pulling faces at the paparazzi is sometimes the best way to handle the situation – and then I see myself on the top of Reddit.” He suddenly becomes rather animated. “I love Reddit! I got so excited when I saw that. I went: ‘We made it!’ She wasn’t as excited.” (He adds that he mainly visits Reddit for Gifs, memes and pictures of “any cute animal”.)

I ask Nick how he and Priyanka, who has experienced a similar level of a different type of fame, manage their public lives. “She’s coming up on 20 years in the business, and weirdly, so am I,” he begins. “But she wasn’t really familiar with us, or me, when we first started dating.” One of their first steps, within their first few weeks together, was a show-and-tell session. “We actually sat down and educated each other, playing videos we were both embarrassed and proud of. It was a helpful way to get to know each other.” (Nick adds, ominously, that Chopra “did a little digging of her own and found out some things about my past”.)

The band’s not exactly hermit-like private lives have undoubtedly boosted their comeback, but, along with Sucker being a nailed-on hit, they have also benefited from a curious type of nostalgia. Their return does transport the mind to a time when their music seemed to soundtrack things slowly getting better, rather than rapidly descending into what Nick describes today as “an incredibly negative time across the whole globe”, and what the rest of us might term an international dumpster fire.

“That should be our album title,” Joe decides. “Before The Dumpster Fire. Six years ago was a lot different everywhere, but we like the idea that we can take people out of it and smile and bring some joy to 2019.”

This feels like as appropriate a time as any to bring up the internet theory that Kevin’s appearance on the US version of Celebrity Apprentice was directly responsible for Trump’s presidency. The Jonas Brothers aren’t known for their political views but the theory goes like this: Kevin’s presence gave the ailing show an early ratings boost, but after Kevin attempted to outfox Trump in the boardroom and got himself fired, the rest of the season’s ratings were poor, and now here we are. “You can do the math on it, and it lines up,” Kevin accepts. “It’s plausible, I guess, that the need for attention could have led from bad ratings to the presidency. I hope that’s not the case.” Would he like to apologise to the world? “No. I do not take credit for it.”

I ask Nick if, as he has previously stated, he would still like to run for president himself one day. “Politics is a very tricky thing,” he diplomatically responds. “It’s a very different time to when I first mentioned my desire to be president.”

“He’s practising,” Kevin laughs.

“We’ll take what we can get,” Joe mutters.

With that, it’s time for the band to clear off and perform for fans in Kingston, London. Before they go I ask what Connect 3, the band they portrayed in Camp Rock, are doing now. “I think,” Nick says, “they’re just really jealous that the Jonas Brothers are back.”

Jonas Brothers’ new album, Happiness Begins, is out on 7 June on Polydor/Republic Records

Source: The Guardian

[lip-dip]

From Nobody to Somebody

Hi! So, my reading teacher gave us the opportunity to write a narrative about whatever we pleased. I asked him about it and he let me write this story. I’ve been in a Sons of Liberty hole for a while now and wanted to do something with it. I hope you enjoy. -BL

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Description: Charles is a 18 year-old orphan boy who is an apprentice for Dr. Joseph Warren. One day he heads to work, only to find a large group of men in the foyer. As time goes on, Charles learns about the Sons of Liberty and what they do. He likes the idea and decides to help them.

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It was a crisp, early morning in Boston, Massachusetts. Charles Joseph, a young american boy who was rather poor and had a dream to be a doctor like Joseph Warren when he got older, was walking through the streets making his way to Dr. Warren’s office.

When Charles had gotten there, he noticed that there was a large group of people gathered in the foyer. Though he was supposed to be there, it felt wrong. So, he waited in the hallway until most of the men walked out.

He decided that it was finally time to go in. As he turned the corner he could see a couple of men huddled near a table. He knocked on the door to make his presence known. Dr. Warren looked up at him and gave him a small nod, signalling him to come over and join the huddle. The other men didn’t seem to care that he was there. Charles didn’t think they even seen him walk in.

Charles caught a glimpse of the table as a man he didn’t know walked over to a bookcase. There was a map, some documents, and mugs scattered all around. Soon, Dr. Warren looked over at Charles and decided to introduce him to the men. They were all men he had heard of, but never actually met. Dr. Warren went through one by one telling Charles about them.

There was Paul Revere, he was a silversmith and a messenger for the group. Samuel Adams was the leader of whatever this group was, he’s apparently a wanted man. Lastly there was John, Sam’s cousin. John was a lawyer and helped make plans for the group.

“So, what do you guys do?” Charles asked out of curiosity.

Sam spoke up, “After Parliament issued the law that anyone who hasn’t paid their taxes in full should be taken to prison, and the redcoats were so violent. I wanted justice. Nobody should have to be scared that they will be ripped from their family and home, or that their rights as human beings would be taken away.”

Charles had thought about the same thing before, going against the redcoats, especially after Gage killed his parents. But, a nobody such as him would ever be able to do a thing.

“C-can I join? Or help?” Charles asked hoping that he could join and help serve Boston the justice it deserved.

Sam smiled and looked at Charles. “If Joseph will allow it.”

Joseph looked unsure. Charles knew he was young and didn’t know much, but he wanted to learn. Charles gave Joseph a begging look. Joseph sighed and gave Charles another look, and then nodding. Sam smiled and patted Charles on the shoulder.

“So, how can I help?” Sam gave a look and Charles assumed he was thinking.

“I know from Warren you’re good at a lot of things, so how about we just see what comes up and we’ll make it work.” Charles nodded. Charles never liked sticking to one thing anyway.

As Sam started to talk about the plan they were discussing before again, a small man, who Charles didn’t know the name of, burst through the door.

The man was breathing heavy as he spoke, “Sam, you need to leave town. Now. The redcoats are coming and they know everything.”

Sam looked shocked as he looked over at the group. “Sam you have to go. We can’t risk it.” Paul said with a strict tone in his voice. Sam gave a reluctant look as he walked to the man and out the door.

From that moment forward it was all sort of a blur for Charles. He remembered there being a moment of panic as the group tried to make a plan. Charles tried to comprehend all of the news and plans that Dr. Warren had told him. They were leaving to go set up camp somewhere outside of Boston. They needed to go somewhere that Gage wouldn’t find.

Charles helped load the stuff needed, and then rode a horse to his home. He jumped down and went up the porch steps. He opened the door and called for his older sister, Margret. She looked worried as she saw the horse outside.

“What’s happening Charles?”

“I’m joining the fight against Gage.”

“What?! Since when?” She said walking over and standing in front of him.

“Since now. I want to do Ma and Pa justice. I want to do Boston justice.”

“Are you sure this is the way? Are you sure it’s worth the risk?”

“Yes.” Charles said giving his sister the look that let her know he was completely sure and was going to go, no matter what.

“Charles, this isn’t a good idea. You need to think this through.”

“There’s nothing to think about. I’m going.” Charles said sternly.

“Okay.” Margret sighed out. “Okay.” She pulled him into a hug, “You better take care of yourself out there.”

“I will.” Charles said as he turned and walked out the door.

Charles walked down the steps of the porch, not realizing that it may be the last time doing so. He jumped onto his horse and took a look at the old, well kept house. Hearing a total of six crows, and galloping off.

There were plenty of men already there. He got down and told everyone the orders he was given. Charles felt so overwhelmed and anxious, but kept a calm exterior.

Charles turned around when he heard a horse galloping near the camp. It was just Paul but he gave Charles the news that he needed a large group of men to go to Lexington and Concord with Sam and a man named John Hancock. A large group of men were gathered and Paul got on his horse and led the way. Charles decided to stay behind just in case.

The camp was rather quiet as everyone sat around, not knowing what to do with themselves. Charles had this feeling in his chest and he didn’t like it. He looked around and decided to go see if Dr. Warren needed anything. He looked around the camp for a moment, trying to find the man he trusted so well. He spotted Warren walking over to the campfire, holding two green apples in his hand. Charles felt something inside of him calm down as he got nearer to the doctor.

“Oh, hello Charles. Would you like an apple?” Dr. Warren said looking up and gesturing for him to sit down.

“Hey, and uh, no thank you” Charles said sitting down and taking a deep breath, still feeling uneasy.

“Everything alright?” Joseph asked looking rather concerned.

“Yeah, I just have this weird feeling in my stomach. I can’t help but feel like something bad is going to happen.” He said as he looked into the fire.

Joseph hummed as he looked out in thought. “Maybe it’s just nerves? There’s no signs of anything bad happening anytime soon. Not around here anyway.”

At that very moment the same small man that had burst into Dr. Warrens house rode up on a brown beautiful horse.

“Dr. Warren, sir!” He said in an alarmed tone.

“Stephen, What happened?” Dr. Warren said standing up.

“War broke out at Lexington and Concord sir. Only a few got away.”

Charles felt his chest sink. He never felt more anxious and sad. He wanted to ask about it all, but his voice seemed to get caught in his throat. So, he just stayed silent. He watched as Dr. Warrens head looked to the ground.

Charles watched as he took a shaky breath and said, “How about Sam? And Hancock? Are they safe?”

“Yes, sir. Revere led the Redcoats away and they escaped safely.”

Charles seen Dr. Warren relax. It helped Charles to know that at least Sam and Hancock (whoever that is) were okay. Charles looked into the fire, spacing out while doing so. He didn’t really think about much, he just needed to focus on something rather than all of this mess. He blocked out the sound of Dr. Warrens voice, the voice of the man named Stephen, the sound of the wind going through the weeds that hid the camp so well, everything. Charles couldn’t hear it, he didn’t want to.

Charles was knocked out of his spaced state when Dr. Warren grabbed his shoulder.

“Charles? Did you hear the plans?” he looked worried, but also scared.

Charles didn’t know why he would be scared, but he decided now was not the time to question it.

Charles shook his head and took a deep breath, “I didn’t, my apologies.”

“We’re heading to Bunker Hill. Prepare to go to war.” Dr. Warren said as he looked Charles in the eyes.

Charles got the feeling again. He looked at Dr. Warren, nodding and walking away to go help gather supplies. Once everything was ready, they all made their way to a place called Bunker Hill. Charles couldn’t remember much as they set up.

They got there, Dr. Warren and Revere gave jobs to everyone. Charles didn’t really listen. He just followed a group and copied what they all did. He didn’t even remember what he helped do. The first thing he thoroughly remembered was seeing the British march up. He finally realized that this was war.

Paul and Warren called for everyone to get guns and prepare. Everyone got in position as the General Gage called out to his troops. Charles didn’t remember how or when the war started. All he knew was that it did start. In fact he was running down to go after Dr. Warren who didn’t listen as Paul called for him. Charles didn’t remember killing anyone, but there was so much blood that he assumed it happened. The only thing running through Charles’ mind was that he needed to make sure that Dr. Warren was safe and that he will get out safely.

Charles didn’t care much about himself. He ran through the battlefield not even thinking about if he got shot. He found Dr. Warren but he was too late, a redcoat had shot him in the knee. He ran over to the doctor and used what he learned from Warren to his advantage. He screamed for Paul as he lifted the man, determined to keep him alive.

Paul rode up, quickly grabbing Warren and getting out. Charles didn’t know what to do. He stood, watching the two men ride into the forest. Before Charles could comprehend it. He felt a sharp pain in his side. He panicked as he soon figured out that he’d been shot. The sight of his own blood on his jacket made his stomach flip. He watched as General Gage talked to his men. Charles laid down on the ground. Hoping that this way they wouldn’t notice that he was alive.

He took out the small gun Dr. Warren had given him. He wanted to do justice, but couldn’t find it in him to consciously kill another man. So, Charles laid there, bleeding out wondering what will happen. He said a silent prayer as he looked at the blue sky. He could hear Gage talking to his men, knowing he was close, but not close enough to see he was still alive.

Charles could feel his blood running through the gaps in his fingers, thinking of if Dr. Warren and Paul are safe. Wondering if anyone would remember him. Wondering if Boston will ever be free from the king's tyranny. Was he really going to let himself die?

Charles didn’t know what to do. He could easily kill Gage, which would make things easier for everyone. He couldn’t let this be the end. Charles gathered up his courage and aimed his gun. He took a breath and pulled the trigger. Gage fell to the ground. He was dead. All the redcoats gathered around him. Terror in their eyes.

Charles stayed on the ground. He couldn’t risk it now. As Charles tried to adjust his position, he was soon reminded of the wound he had gotten earlier. The bleeding had went down a bit. Charles knew he wouldn’t die if he could get pressure onto it. So, he ripped his jacket sleeve off, tying it around his wound tightly. Charles made a plan in his head on how to get out of this wretched place.

Charles figured that the best plan of action was to make his way over to the horses that the Redcoats left to go see Gage, and jump on. To ride away and never look back. He never wanted to see Bunker Hill again. Charles was terrified to proceed with his plan, but he needed to leave and get help. He needed to see Dr. Warren and his sister.

Charles made sure that none of the redcoats were looking as he slowly got up, pain coursing through his body. He couldn’t let this wound stop him now. He quickly and quietly ran over to the horses. None of them seen him still. He jumped up and pulled the reins. As he rode away, he could hear the redcoats shoot at him. They missed him by a mere hair.

Charles never slowed down as he rode through the forest. He felt tears in his eyes as he spotted the camp, with Paul Revere standing at the top. He let out a sob as he urged the horse to go faster up the hill.

As soon as Charles got to the top of the hill, he quickly got off the horse, his side killing him. He grabbed Paul, who ran over to him, holding him up as Charles cried.

“You’re alive.” Paul said, sounding like he was reassuring himself more than Charles.

Paul held onto him as they walked to another tent, Charles saw a person stitching up some other wounded people. Paul called for the man and started talking to him about Charles. Charles didn’t listen he just tried to breathe and comprehend that he was safe again. He didn’t let go of Paul. He needed someone there with him.

Charles felt numb. He couldn’t even feel that the man was cleaning his wound, or stitching it up. Charles didn’t even know that it had happened. Charles sat up in the bed as he started to comprehend everything again.

“How is the doctor? Is he safe? Is he okay?” Charles asked frantically.

“He’s fine son, He’s just not gonna be able to walk for a while. You really saved his life.” Paul said looking up at Charles with a small smile.

Charles let out a sigh of relief, sinking down on the bed. He didn’t think he could handle losing the doctor, especially when it would have been his fault. He let out a smile and a breath. He felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. Charles felt himself grow tired as he laid in the soft bed. However Charles didn’t want to sleep. He couldn’t. He feared that if he went to sleep now, he wouldn’t wake up.

Charles noticed Sam walk into the tent. Charles focused hard on what they were saying.

“We need to figure out Gage’s new plans. We need to be prepared for what’s next.”

“Gage is dead.” Charles said looking at his hands. The same hands that killed so many men.

“What?” Both Paul and Sam said, looking at Charles in confusion.

“Gage is dead. I killed him. I wouldn’t have escaped if i didn’t” Charles said plainly. Should he feel guilty for it? Gage had hurt so many people.

“Good job, kid.” Sam said as he patted Charles on the shoulder.

“Well that just made things a lot easier than before.” Paul said looking a bit relieved after the news.

Charles nodded, still looking at his hands. He knew most of it was his own blood, but there was some that wasn’t. That little bit was enough to make Charles feel guilty for killing those men.

“Where is Dr. Warren? I want to see him.”

“He’s in a new tent we set up. I’ll show you.” Sam said as he waited for Charles to get up.

The three of them made their way to a big, white tent. Charles walked in first, the doctor was in a better state than what Charles thought he would be. Dr. Warren looked up and tears came to his eyes as soon as he saw Charles. Joseph grabbed Charles and held him for a while.

“You’re alive. Thank god. I thought you were dead.” The doctor said, holding Charles by the shoulders.

“No, I’m not. I thought I was going to be, but I remembered what you taught me and I was able to save myself for the time being. I’m taken care of now, though.” Charles said, feeling himself calm down. Knowing that the doctor was okay was a relief.

“The kid killed Gage, stole his horse too.” Paul said with a slight smile.

Joseph smiled and looked at Charles, “Really? You killed Gage?”

“Yeah..” Charles said looking at his hands again, feeling the guilt.

“Hey, don’t feel guilty. Gage has killed many more than you ever will. You just avenged thousands of people Charles. That’s amazing.” Joseph said giving Charles a look of reassurance.

Charles felt a bit better but he still felt the guilt. He figured it would go away with time. For now, though, he will deal with it.

“Charles, be ready in the morning, we are leaving for Philadelphia.” Sam said, pointing at Charles and starting towards the door.

“For what?” Charles said, confused. Is there another war?

“You and Joseph are going with me, we are going to unite the colonies. Plus, I can keep an eye on the both of you.” He smirked and walked out.

Charles looked at Joseph and smiled. It had felt like forever since he had smiled a genuine smile. He was going to help unite the colonies and help make Boston independent. He was excited, to say the least. Charles hadn’t noticed that the sun had gone down.

“You need to get to bed. We have a big day ahead of us.” The doctor said with a knowing look.

“I know. I’m just scared I guess.” Charles said, feeling uneasy about going to sleep again.

“Why are you scared?” He asked, looking worried.

“What if I don’t wake up?” Charles said with a hint of panic in his voice.

“You will, I promise.” Joseph said grabbing Charles’ hand.

“I promised your father and mother that I would always take care of you. That I would protect you no matter the cost. You are not going to die, Charles. I promise.”

Charles nodded. He really did see Dr. Warren as a father figure more than ever now.

“Okay.” Charles said, nodding and bidding his good-nights.

Charles walked into his tent, finding a pile of clean clothes sitting on top of his bed. There was a small piece of parchment paper on top, it read, “For tomorrow. -Sam” Charles smiled and sat the clothes down on a crate near his bed. Deciding to change into them in the morning. As soon as Charles laid down on his bed, he was out.

Charles awoke in a panic as someone was shaking him. As his eyes shot open and he comprehended what was happening, he realized it was Sam.

“It’s just me, I’m sorry for startling you.” Sam said with a tone of worry in his voice.

“It’s fine, what do you need?” Charles said calming down.

“We’re heading to Philadelphia soon.” Sam said as he pointed his finger at the door of the tent.

“Oh. Right. Yes. I’ll be ready soon.” He spoke as he remembered the events of yesterday.

“I left a bucket of water for you to clean up with if you like.” Sam said as he walked out the door.

Charles didn’t even get to say thank you for the clothes or anything. Either way, He got up and started getting ready. He decided to clean himself up first. The clean water was black by the time he was clean. It felt nice to be able to look at his hands and not feel guilty.

After Charles put new bandages on his wound and dressed in the brand new clothes he had gotten from Sam, he felt brand new. He felt like he had a fresh start. Charles walked out of his tent and helped Sam load everything up. They decided to take a carriage for Dr. Warren.

The ride to Philadelphia was long. The crunch of leaves under hooves and and echoes of the horses feet hitting the ground gave Charles a feeling of nostalgia. He remembered going to town with his family in the carriage. His mother and father telling Charles and his siblings old stories of their younger years. Charles was sitting in the same seat his mother would always sit in. He smiled and watched as the world passes by.

Charles began to feel nervous as they walked down the hallway to the room all of the delegates would be in. There were a lot of men. Important men. Charles could tell that most of them were scared of war, as if it wasn’t already happening.

“Charles, I need you to go around and talk to the delegates. Convince them to help us. Do what is necessary. Scare them if needed.” Sam said with a hushed voice.

“Okay. I think I can do that.” Charles said confidently.

Charles walked around the room. Each man was different it seemed. There was one thing however, war. They are all afraid of war. So, Charles let them know that war has already happened. That it will happen. After about an hour, They were all called to sit down and vote. They all believed that they did pretty good at convincing everyone.

Charles could tell Sam was nervous. He grabbed Sam's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Joseph smiled at Charles, knowing that he would have done the same thing. The room got deathly silent as the voting started. Massachusetts was last to vote. Sam seemed to be shocked that everyone had voted yes. John had to call Sam’s name to snap him out of his daze. Sam slowly stood up. Announcing he was voting yes, and looked at Hancock.

As soon as the words “The resolution for independence is hereby passed!” fell from Mr. Hancock's mouth, Everyone had not stopped smiling.

It was done. The colonies were united and ready to be independent.

All the delegates gathered around a small table. They placed the large piece of parchment down. The words declaring the colonies independence written neatly. Every man, one by one, Signed their name at the bottom. Charles smiled as he watched. Dr. Warren went up and signed his name rather large. Charles gave a small chuckle as Joseph knew that he had signed it that big on purpose. Sam handed out the quill to Charles. Charles looked up at him, shaking his head.

“I can’t.” Charles said knowing that his signature wasn’t as important and would only be wasted space.

“You earned it, son. Sign it.” Sam said with a small smile.

Charles nervously took the quill and signed his name. It wasn’t too small, but not too big either. Charles liked the way it looked and handed the quill back to Sam.

Charles couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He helped Boston have independence. He helped move this forward. He realized then, that he was not a nobody anymore.

[angelofberlin2000]

In his 14 minutes of screentime in Always Be My Maybe, Netflix’s latest rom-com phenomenon, 54-year-old Keanu Reeves — now 30 years into his stardom — skewers and subverts the personas we’ve come to attach to him.

Reeves, playing an outsized version of himself, cuts an imposing figure in his introduction. Time slows to a crawl. All eyes gravitate toward the velvet-jacketed figure with striking beauty and prickly charisma. After his entrance — a show for everyone in the farcical restaurant Maximal — he slides toward Ali Wong’s celebrity chef Sasha, offering spiritual platitudes in the face of her unfettered lust. “I missed your thumbs,” she breathily exhales. “I missed your soul” is his reply.

It’s a maniacally delightful performance that both reminds audiences of Reeves’s place in Asian-American Hollywood history and allows him to flex improvisational skills as he cycles through the various masks we have grafted onto him. There’s the impossibly otherworldly Keanu, who says with utmost sincerity, “The only stars that matter are the ones that you see when you dream.” There’s action-star Keanu, who smashes a vase against his own head in a game of Icebreaker and easily puts the jealous protagonist, Marcus (Randall Park), in a headlock — fully committed, physically graceful, and beautifully dangerous. The Keanu of internet memes and viral threads is here, too, in the very fact that he’s playing himself.

Reeves is having a dynamite year with the success of Always Be My Maybe, the outrageously violent John Wick Chapter 3: Parabellum, and Toy Story 4, in which he plays Canada’s greatest stunt driver, Duke Caboom. (Another sly nod perhaps? While born in Beirut, Reeves — who is of Chinese-Hawaiian and British ancestry — was raised in Toronto.) The actor’s more recent evolution into a meme may flatten his complexities, but it does signal why he has endured all this time, despite the persistent claim that he’s a bad actor, or just a limited one. As I’ve contended in the past, this is a gross misreading of a great actor. In her tremendous 2007 masterwork The Star Machine, film professor and historian Jeanine Basinger praises Reeves amongst his generational contemporaries: “Reeves is a neo-star fighting the concept of stardom itself, working steadily against persona to the point where no one has a clear idea of who Reeves is onscreen anymore. This has hurt him, but it has also allowed him to maintain versatility that means more to him than fame. […] His career would have been limited, and thus short lived. Instead, he has used his freedom to move on and slowly force audiences to accept him as a real actor.”

  Just take a look at the arc of his career — as a teenager going through an existential crisis in the blackhearted wonder River’s Edge (1986); the affably dimwitted Theodore “Ted” Logan from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989) and its sequel; the bodaciously supple and yearning FBI agent and surfer Johnny Utah in Point Break (1991); a bruisingly courteous SWAT officer in Speed (1994); the beatific savior Neo in The Matrix (1999);  the violent redneck in The Gift (2000); an occult detective radiating self-loathing and suicidal yearnings in Constantine (2005); and of course, the titular tenderhearted and violently dangerous assassin of the John Wick franchise. In looking at all of his performances, I am reminded of what the great Roger Ebert wrote in his review of the Bill & Ted sequel back in the early ‘90s: “I have seen Keanu Reeves in vastly different roles (the FBI man in the current Point Break, for example), and am a little astonished by the range of these performances.”

Throughout his career, Reeves has eschewed obvious transformation in favor of something trickier and more subtle. What has allowed him to remain a star, 30 years later, is a blend of virility, vulnerability, and an aura of mystery, hearkening to a bygone era of stardom that contradicts the current moment, which requires stars to seem endlessly accessible; his sheer joy for the medium that makes him a cinematic sensualist; his racial dimensions as a star; and his gimlet-eyed understanding of the female gaze. These qualities are unique in the current market of stardom in Hollywood, allowing him to straddle various cinematic contexts with ease — mainstream romantic comedies, somber indie flicks, gloriously decadent action flicks.

They come through in one of his earliest films, My Own Private Idaho, a meditative character study about two young hustlers — Mike Waters (River Phoenix), a shy narcoleptic in search of a sense of home, and the strikingly beautiful Scott Favor (Reeves), a trust-fund kid slumming it until his inheritance kicks in at 21. Reeves and his late co-star imbue their characters with a particular mix of virility, vulnerability, and mystery. I’d argue that all the greatest leading men in the annals of Hollywood stardom have existed at this intersection to varying degrees — something I feel has been lacking from modern male stars, partially because they are being formed in franchises that lack interest in the visceral aspects of humanity. (It helps that Reeves has declined offers to join Marvel, even though they’ve been trying to woo him to their stable for years.) Humphrey Bogart’s cool is consistently undercut by his own anger and self-loathing. William Holden held something dark behind his megawatt smile and gleaming blond locks. Paul Newman always felt a touch remote, like he was hiding bruised aspects of himself from the audience. Marlon Brando, of course, epitomizes these qualities. Reeves is brimming with similar contradictions. He reflects this tradition by being at once beatifically still and emotionally expressive, defined by loneliness and a yearning to be saved from it.

In My Own Private Idaho, Reeves is the object of desire not only for Mike but the camera itself. Deep into the film, Mike timidly reveals his love to Scott while they camp out in the desert, a fire crackling before them. Phoenix plays Mike as wild with energy he has no real outlet for, leading to an awkward physicality. Reeves grants his character a languid brio. He takes up space, laying close to the fire, his head dipped back to study Mike as he timidly expresses his feelings. He’s outstretched, willowy, and aware of Mike’s gaze; he examines the weight of it. The scene reveals one of Reeves’s greatest skills as an actor: being an active listener. As he studies Mike, he invites and toys with his feelings. “I only have sex with a guy for money,” he notes offhandedly as if it were a random truth, not a response to a declaration of love. But just as the prickliness of his character comes into view (foreshadowing later betrayals), Reeves displays a burnishing sincerity. Arms outstretched, he says, “Let’s go to sleep,” and proceeds to cradle Mike.

The full-bodied listening Reeves exhibits in My Own Private Idaho is a hallmark of his work opposite women as well. Reeves is a great example of what Roswell New Mexico writer Alanna Bennett deemed The Look: “The number one thing a man in a romcom needs, TV or movie, is the ability to look at their love interest REALLY WELL. The man barely even needs to speak if he just knows how LOOK at a person.” Reeves has given that look in multiple contexts — his face is bright with awe when he looks at Carrie-Anne Moss’s Trinity in the Matrix films; it has a touch of admiration when he gazes at Sandra Bullock in Speed; and it is filled with unmitigated desire for Diane Keaton’s Erica Barry in Something’s Gotta Give.

Nancy Meyer’s 2003 ode to beachside property and an older woman’s sensual awakening stars Keaton as a successful playwright who finds herself falling for two very different men — Harry Sanborn (Jack Nicholson), who briefly dated her daughter (how this didn’t disqualify him immediately continues to baffle me) and has to go through a damn heart attack before he can see what’s attractive in a woman around his own age; and Julian Mercer (Reeves), a sweet doctor with a penchant for black turtlenecks who is immediately smitten when they meet.

In the film, Reeves is attuned to the female gaze in its most literal incarnation — an understanding of how women see the world, what they want from it, and how they make sense of desire. During a dinner scene with Julian, Erica’s face and neck are flush. She’s skittish and nervous in the face of his undeniable — but never disrespectful — sexual and romantic interest. Reeves’s face shows the depth and breadth of The Look, as he glides from teasing lust to a spark of genuine intellectual attraction. At one point, when their conversations turns to women his own age, he says, “I’ve never met one I’ve reacted to” — stumbling for a moment, as if shocked by the depth of his own feeling — “… quite like this. When something happens to you that hasn’t happened before, don’t you have to at least find out what it is?” He’s a man overcome and humbled by his own desire. Is there anything sexier? Then he leans in, his face going soft, gently kissing the groove where her neck meets her shoulder. “I knew you’d smell good,” he whispers. Only Reeves could pull off a line like that.

Many actors of Reeves’s caliber are too invested in being in the spotlight of a scene to play a romantic lead like this. After the fall of the studio system in the 1960s, Hollywood no longer looked at women as a viable market, and while romantic comedies continued to get made, going forward, there was a notable shift in whose desire was centered — and how little male actors seemed interested in exploring romance and desire. Reeves’s willingness brought another layer of intimacy to his relationship with his audience, offering a more flexible, vulnerable portrait of masculinity that sets him apart from other name stars.

That intimacy is key to Reeves’s longevity. It’s what makes him such a great cinematic sensualist. In 2009, Matt Zoller Seitz argued that directors Michael Mann, Terrence Malick, David Lynch, Wong Kar-wai, and Hou Hsiao-hsien were the “the decade’s best sensualists filmmakers.” He wrote, “They share a defining trait: a lyrical gift for showing life in the moment, for capturing experience as it happens and as we remember it. The sensualists are bored with dramatic housekeeping. They’re interested in sensations and emotions, occurrences and memories of occurrences.” I’d argue that being a cinematic sensualist is a distinction that can apply to acting as well. For actors, it is about bringing texture and complication to a film, existing wholly in the moment, and a keen interest in the human body.

When we watch films, the body keeps score as much as the mind does. Reeves demonstrates an understanding of this. This is apparent in the delicate neck kiss in Something’s Gotta Give; the careful way his hand skitters across broken glass before deciding on which shard to slit his wrists with in Constantine; the calm he engenders with merely the sound of his voice in Thumbsucker. But it’s most impactful in his career as an action star. In many ways, the John Wick franchise is the perfect marriage of director and star. The third film is a tactile feast. Consider a scene early in John Wick 3, in which Reeves methodically takes apart and reassembles a gun for a single shot. This scene is, of course, a testament to the character’s skill as an assassin. But it also acts as a reminder of how out of step John is with the world around him, betraying a desire for the quieter moments in life — despite the brutal milieu he finds himself in — and a strange empathy for the world around him, whether it be object or animal. This allows a humanity to glitter throughout his performances that often feels absent from many action franchises that sacrifice character on the altar of plot.

There’s another part of Reeves’s star image I suspect has played into our abiding fascination with him. Until Always Be My Maybe, the most under-discussed part of Reeves’s persona was his race. Late in his slim but potent book-length essay Mixed-Race Superman: Keanu, Obama, and Multicultural Experience, Will Harris astutely writes about a particular aspect of the 2005 film A Scanner Darkly that, metatextually, speaks to Reeves’s whole career:

“To be mixed-race is to exist in a state of paradox. Race is an illusion that depends on purity and singleness. […] In A Scanner Darkly, set in a paranoid surveillance state in the near-future, Keanu plays a government agent called Bob Arctor, who because he works undercover, has to wear a ‘scramble suit’ in the office. The suit projecting 1.5 million constantly shifting representations of different people — male and female, black, white, Latinx — keeps his identity cloaked. Even the people he works with have no idea who he is.”

Like his persona, Reeves’s face itself is considered unplaceable. Growing up, he never read as white to me, but he has read that way to Hollywood, which allowed his career to be mutable in ways that very few people of color ever experience. But for much of the moviegoing audience, seeing his face has always been a point of connection. It’s the undercurrent of why his turn in Always Be My Maybe felt like such a significant moment in his career. It was as though something had been revealed about him for the first time, even though it had been present all along. That it was such a joyful, brazenly comedic role added yet another twist on his image. There was a sense that, even after 30 years in the spotlight, Reeves can still surprise us.

[charmedtheselfproclaimedking]

Charmed Again: Season 2 (Charmed Fanfic)

Episode 1 - Back to Black: Part 1 (Premiere)

Warnings: I don’t own the rights to any of the characters from the hit TV show “Charmed” or the storylines related to the show those rights belong to original creator Constance M Burge.

15+ Moderate/Graphic Displays of Violence, Sexual Innuendos, Witchcraft and Potentially Triggering Scenes.

Pan sat on the couch within the attic in her family home looking through a family photo album that included pictures of Prue, Piper, Phoebe, Paige, Melinda, Wyatt and Chris as well as containing baby, child and teenage pictures of herself and Paul.

“Do you know the elders summon me more than you do these days?” Piper complained as she appeared as if from out of nowhere.

“I’m sorry grams things around here have got even more crazy than normal as I’m sure you’ve probably seen for yourself.” Pan replied as she stood up, placing the photo album down on the couch.

“Yeah I’ve seen which is why I decided it was time to properly check in,” Piper explained to her granddaughter. “How are you coping with it all?”

“I’m doing good yeah it’s most Drake that’s struggling with it all although he’s acting like it’s not affected him, I know it has. He doesn’t let people in easily and when he does, he winds up hurt that’s got to blow.” Pan admitted to her.

“The elders have always been real pains in the proverbial especially with their archaic ideology you should’ve seen the hissy fit they through when I married your grandfather but eventually they learned I wouldn’t back down and it was time for them to change their ways which I hope happens again in this case.” Piper reassured her.

“I’m not sure this time Grams I’ve not seen or heard much from Quinn since he got reassigned and I doubt Drake’s going to open himself up again just to be hurt.” Pan replied honestly.

“Drake’s a lot more resilient than you think and he’s full of surprises I mean just look at him you and Paul all under the same roof.” Piper disagreed with her granddaughter. “I never thought he would wind up moving in and he did.”

“Pan are you coming back to...” Lacey began to ask while walking into the attic before noticing Piper. “Oh, never mind.”

“Hello again Lacey I see being dead is a good look on you.” Piper said to her granddaughter’s girlfriend.

“Right back at you Mrs Halliwell.” Lacey replied to her.

“I’m so glad Aunt Paige bended the rules about white lighters and sped up Lacey’s process.” Pan admitted as she walked over to Lacey and kissed her. “I couldn’t imagine life without you.”

“Yes, well every now and then the elders and by which, I mean my sister Paige manages to get things right.” Piper told them both. “Where is my grandson and great grandson anyway?”

“Paul’s working late at the law firm and Drake’s always late coming in from Devilish Delights.” Pan explained to her grandmother.

“What the hell is Devilish Delights?” Piper wondered.

“A very nice and very colorful performance venue for exotic male dancers.” Pan reluctantly replied.

“Oh,” Lacy laughed. “She means a strip club.”

“I suppose continuing to give you more and more chances are proving worthwhile for me.” Cindy smirked while she and Drake stood in Cindy’s office fixing their tops, having clearly just had some fun with each other.

“Please I’m the closest thing you have to a friend around here unless your hiding them somewhere really good.” Drake laughed, teasing his boss.

“Friends are seriously overrated I mean what use has anyone really got out of friendship?” Cindy replied. “If I wanted friends, I’d have friends, but I don’t.”

“Don’t you consider me a friend?” Drake asked as he moved closer towards his boss.

“I don’t do emotional attachments of any kind and that’s the reason why this works.” Cindy admitted before leaning in to kiss him only to be frozen mid-air.

“Didn’t I ban you and Paul from ever coming here?” Drake asked as he turned around to see Pan and Piper stood at the now opened office door.

“Yeah this time I’m not doing the freezing or the invading.” Pan replied while pointing at her grandmother, making it clear Piper was to blame.

“Who even are you?” Drake asked Piper, clearly unamused.

“Hello, anyone home?” Paul shouted as he walked into the foyer only to see Lacey orb into the foyer, although Lacey didn’t quite execute the landing making her fall to the floor upon appearing into the room.

“Damn, Quinn always made it look so bloody easy, but orbing is really hard,” Lacey moaned as Paul helped her back on her feet. “If I don’t start acing this white lighter thing quickly, they may consider taking my wings off me.”

“Lacey you’re still relatively new to all of this you’re not supposed to be the best straight away give it time.” Paul suggested to her. “Where is everyone?”

“Your grandmother Piper Halliwell returned from the grave once again just in time for Drake’s birthday tomorrow.” Lacey told him.

“Drake’s birthday is on the 31st of October, I should know considering I was there the day he was born.” Paul replied to his white lighter.

“True but Halloween is a big no for him, so we just do his birthday the week before, so he doesn’t have to be associated with all hallows eve.” Lacey explained to her charge. “I swear I tried doing a fancy-dress themed birthday for his 21st and the guy almost killed me on the spot.”

“How can Drake not love Halloween the guy’s obsessed with horror movies and all things spooky to an alarming level which I guess is the demon in him, but Halloween should be his favorite time of year.” Paul wondered. “Not to mention as a Halliwell it’s the most important time of year for us.”

“Delilah was a huge fan of Halloween and she used to go all out every year she’d throw this big party for the entire street and her and Drake used to spend so much time decorating, designing costumes and coming up with ideas.” Lacey revealed to Drake’s biological father. “It was their thing and he’s refused to celebrate it since to be honest with you I think she made such a big deal about Halloween because it was her son’s birthday she loved him more than anything and he loved her so much.”

“That’s terrible here’s me believing Drake and I were growing closer and not only didn’t I know he loathed his own birthday but I didn’t even know the woman that raised my son the woman he called mum was named Delilah.” Paul admitted, hurt by the realization his white lighter knew his own son better than him.

“I wouldn’t blame yourself on that one Drake’s a hard one to open up on a good day never mind opening up about the worst day of his life.” Lacey said, trying to make Paul feel better about himself. “His father was called Stewart in case you were wondering about him too.”

“What was his father like?” Paul asked her.

“He was a regular dad type nothing to write home about really Drake was always closer to his mum but Stewart and him did have their wrestling addiction they bonded over every week they used to go to shows together and Drake would get so excited to spend time with him.” Lacey continued to reveal more about Drake’s adoptive family before beginning to laugh over a memory she quickly shared with Paul. “I remember Mr Black tried bonding with him with a father son camping trip which I of course invited myself too and Drake was just hopeless and it wound up being just me and Stewart doing some father and son’s friend bonding why trying to find Drake.”

“Where was Drake when you eventually found him?” Paul wondered with a smile on his face, happy to hear more about his son even if it wasn’t from Drake himself.

“In a nearby hotel he paid for after swiping his dad’s credit card which was pretty much expected from us both except for finding Jake in the room with him which Mr Black wasn’t so happy about.” Lacey laughed. “He would’ve been even more pissed if he realized that’s when his son lost his…never mind.”

“I think we should work on having Drake move his birthday back to the right date I mean his mum would want him to keep up the tradition she created for them both.” Paul suggested to Lacey.

“Trust me when I say that conversation won’t end well, I’ve tried it a few times myself and it only ever ends up in disaster Drake really doesn’t like talking about anything deep especially with new people, no offense.” Lacey warned her charge. “Quinn was lucky Drake let him in like he did which was clearly a big mistake. I liked Quinn too I can’t believe I was fooled into thinking he was a good guy.”

“Quinn’s not a bad guy in fact he’s one of the best guys I’ve ever met.” Paul defended his departed friend. “The elders made it clear he had to give us up as charges if he had a choice, he’d still be here trust me.”

“I understand this whole white lighter gig has a bunch of stupid rules which I have to memorize like no matter how idiotic, grumpy or down right rude my charges can get I’m not supposed to bite back which is a thing I’ve complained to Paige about in length.” Lacey complained. “My point is Quinn at the very least could’ve said goodbye to Drake elders be damned Drake deserved a goodbye.”

“Maybe saying goodbye was just to hard for him.” Paul replied.

“Not that it’s not lovely having people I know pop up where I work especially the dead kind but what are you actually doing here?” Drake asked Piper as Piper, Drake and Pan stood in the parking lot outside of Devilish Delights.

“I’m pretty sure mid-day hook ups with your boss isn’t in the job description for stripping although I’m not exactly an expert in that area.” Piper joked before going on to reveal. “I’m here to celebrate your first birthday living under the Halliwell Manor which I’ve been told you celebrate a year early.”

“I’m grateful you dug yourself out of your own grave just for my birthday but it’s not exactly a special one and I don’t intend to do anything special for it.” Drake replied to his great-grandmother.

“Yeah that’s not quite how it works when one of us return from up there no digging is actually involved.” Piper explained to him.

“I really think you should reconsider doing something special it means a lot to us to get to spend your first birthday with you.” Pan tried to persuade her nephew.

“I understand birthdays aren’t your thing but there a big deal to us and I want to use this occasion to get a proper chance to get to know you.” Piper admitted to Drake. “Please just let us do something if only to appease us.”

“Fine,” Drake reluctantly caved. “We can do brunch or lunch but that’s all.”

“You are going to be so pleasantly surprised by how amazing I am as a chef in fact I taught your father everything he knows although I must admit he never quite mastered it as well as me but he sure comes a very close second.” Piper boasted.

Paul and Pan found themselves sitting at the table in the dining room of their family home waiting for Drake to come downstairs as the table was filled with a luxurious display of food while Piper kept popping in and out from the kitchen with more plates of food she somehow managed to squeeze onto the table.

“I know Lacey advised me against it, but I really think we should convince Drake to celebrate his birthday on his actual birthday Halloween isn’t exactly a holiday that we as witches should be avoiding.” Paul suggested to his younger sister.

“I say we don’t rock the boat this year at least I mean you’ve just got him living under the same roof pushing him too soon might not end well.” Pan replied to her brother. “Besides this is about the parents who raised him that’s not exactly an easy topic to approach especially when you’re the father who gave him up.”

“I agree with you both, I agree with Paul in that as a Halliwell it would basically be sacrilege to ignore Halloween, but I also agree with Pan that Drake celebrating his birthday should be up to him.” Piper interjected while placing another plate on the table. “Halloween has a way of making Halliwell’s celebrate whether they like it or not.”

“Maybe I should just talk it out with him and get him to be more open with me?” Paul asked his sister and grandmother.

“Because that has worked so well in the past.” Pan replied with sarcasm.

“I’m sorry honey but Drake’s brick walls have brick walls behind them and who knows how many layers of cement.” Piper told her grandson as she walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I mean even I’m handling with kitten gloves and I normally blow things up.”

“You’re both right I just hate the fact he’s still beating himself up about things that were in no way within his control and I hate he’s hurting and there’s nothing I can do to stop him from hurting.” Paul admitted.

“I know sweetie,” Piper replied as she hugged into her grandson.

Lacey orbed into the dining room once again missing the landing and this time falling mid air crashing into the table breaking the dining table and destroying Piper’s entire buffet of food at the same time much to Paul and Pan’s horror as they looked over at their clearly furious grandmother Piper.

“Oh god,” Pan said in shock. “My grandmother is totally going to explode my girlfriend.”

Having waited long enough for the birthday guest and leaving Pan, Paul and Lacey to clean up made by the rookie white lighter Piper decided it was time to chase Drake out of his bedroom only to find him putting on his jacket after knocking on his door and letting herself into his bedroom.

“Good you’re finally ready I did make a buffet but let’s just say Lacey’s orbing ruined the feast.” Piper said to her great grandson.

“Thanks, I can only imagine you went to a lot of work, but I have to go into work.” Drake replied to her.

“Isn’t the whole point of sleeping with your boss that you get benefits let’s say like time off on your birthday?” Piper joked.

“It’s that a subtle way of you saying you don’t approve of me stripping or that you don’t approve of me sleeping with my boss?” Drake asked his great grandmother.

“I married my white lighter which was considered a lot worse than dating your boss back then so I’m not going to judge you for who you sleep with or strip for I just want to spend some time with my first great grandchild on their first birthday with his family.” Piper admitted to him.

“No offense Piper but this isn’t my family in fact everyone at Devilish Delights has known me longer than the people in this house barring Lacey who is actually my family.” Drake replied. “I’m not trying to be mean or hurtful it’s just you’re not my family, this isn’t my birthday and even if it was, I don’t do birthdays.”

“We’re trying really hard here Drake sooner or later you’re going to have to meet us halfway.” Piper made herself clear.

“It’s been months since they took the charmed ones off me as charges when are you going to convince them to reinstate me as their white lighter?” Quinn asked Paige as the two of them stood within the clouds.

“I hoped for the process not to take this long but then Lacey wound up getting herself killed by a demon with her father’s face and Pan was left completely grief stricken so I had to change priorities and make sure I could rush the white lighter process for Pan and Lacey to be reunited.” Paige explained to the white lighter. “From the feedback I’m getting from the other elders it may take a while for them to come around to everything and even then, I’ll have a hard time convincing them the charmed ones need two white lighters. There is a way I could probably swing it with them to reinstate you now, but I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Paige I’ll do anything to get back to them.” Quinn pleaded with her.

“You’ll have to refuse all feelings you have for Drake and that you won’t act on any feelings for him and I could get them to reinstate you now but I’d rather you just wait until I get this demons and angels rule overturned.” Paige revealed to him.

“And how long will I have to wait for that rule to be changed?” Quinn asked the elder.

“I’m not sure how long it’s going to take or even if I will be successful, but I am extremely hopeful.” Paige reluctantly admitted while still trying to give Quinn some hope.

“I’ll make the promise to the elders and I’ll never act on my feelings for Drake.” Quinn decided. “I can’t be away from them any longer especially with the source and the triad still out there.”

Drake was stood within a local cemetery in San Francisco holding a red rose in his hand as he looked over at his adoptive parents Delilah and Stewart Black’s gravestone.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately mum wondering what my life would’ve been like if you were still around wondering if you ever forgave me for what I did.” Drake cried as tears fell down his cheeks. “Wondering if you’d want me to embrace the Halliwell’s or run away as fast I can. I met my biological mother and I betrayed your memory by calling her mum you’re the only real mum I’ve ever had and I’m so sorry for never appreciating you enough when you were around. The truth is I’ve never recovered from losing you and now all these new people are in my life trying to push me to move on and I’m so beyond terrified of trying to live again.”

“Your mother could never blame you for an accident that happened when you were still a child, but something tells me you’re never going to believe it until you hear it from her.” Piper said as she appeared standing next to her great grandson before Drake was left stunned to see his mother Delilah appear in front of him in a series of white orbs instantly becoming corporeal.

“Mum.” Drake struggled to mumble as his voice broke before he ran over to hug his mother beginning to sob in her arms as Piper looked on with tears in her eyes “I’m so sorry.”

“Drake you have nothing to apologize for honey.” Delilah told her son as she broke off their hug and kept her hand on his face stroking his cheek lovingly. “The fire was an accident that you had no way of knowing would even happen I mean how could you, you didn’t even know you had powers back then.”

“I’ve missed you and dad so much mum.” Drake continued to cry.

“You had no reason to miss me or your father because we’ve never left you, we’ve always been there with every move you’ve made.” Delilah revealed to her son. “We were there when your heart broke over your first love Jake, we were even they when you were stripping at that club although your dad and I look away at the skin filled parts. We were there when you became a cop, when you found your birth father, your birth mother and when you became a charmed one.”

“Really?” Drake asked his mother as tears continued to fall down his cheeks.

“You have made us so much prouder than we could have ever imagined you would. You’re an amazing and loving boy who has done some truly incredible things and I know you will continue to do even more.” Delilah admitted to Drake. “It truly breaks my hear that you keep closing yourself off to everyone because of this stupid notion you have of not deserving to be loved. Life will never get better if you keep not living it Drake and you deserve to have the most wonderful life.”

“I don’t feel like I do.” Drake argued with tears still in his eyes.

“Yes, you do you deserve to be the happiest person and I refuse to allow you to think otherwise for any longer!” Delilah demanded.

“I’ve never learned how to be happy without you and dad.” Drake admitted to his mother.

“You never have to be because even when you don’t see us, we’re always there.” Delilah promised him. “We will continue to always be there but you have more than just us now you have your father and your aunt now too and I know there’s enough room in your heart to love us all so let Paul and Pan in because they really do love you and you deserved to be loved.”

“Can I help you?” Cindy asked Piper Halliwell as she the witch walked into Devilish Delights where Cindy was stood behind the bar counter waiting for her arrival.

“Yes, you can go ahead and tell me why my great grandson’s boss is a demon who seems to be taking a special interest in him?” Piper wondered as she walked over towards the demonic club owner.

“You do realize your great grandson is also part demon himself.” Cindy replied to her.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions here unless you would prefer me jumping straight to the exploding.” Piper snapped at her.

“If you must know I genuinely had no idea who he was until after he was hired and trust me when I say I wasn’t particularly thrilled to find out he was a charmed one considering my history with you lot.” Cindy admitted to Piper.

“You mean because your father was Barbas and your sister Barba attacked my grandchildren not so long ago.” Piper told her. “I know you’re not like them and are trying to seek some form of redemption but why do you need to do it around my great grandson?”

“I never wanted to be part of this world or the Underworld but since meeting Drake I’ve found myself tolerating somebody for the first time I even tolerate his detective friend Lacey and that annoying squirrel boy Quinn.” Cindy answered honestly. “Paul and Pan will take some work.”

“If you ever hurt any of them, I will kill you!” Piper warned her. “In fact, I’d kill you now if it wasn’t for the fact history has once again seemed to repeat itself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Cindy quizzed the Halliwell Matriarch.

“I think you already know.” Piper responded with a knowing look.

[helenarlett-rex]

Goosebumps Review #8

*Grumbles* I guess it’s time for another review. Do I really have to? *Sighs* Okay fine… Moving on with reading all the Goosebumps I never got the chance to read as a kid…

(Spoilers)

Creature Teacher: The Final Exam

Goosebumps Most Wanted #6

Dear god this book sucked. And it’s a real shame because I really loved the original Creature Teacher. But what is the most mind boggling is that this is more or less the exact same story as the first book. It just copied the plot from the first book almost to the letter, and yet despite being the same story, this time it sucked instead of being awesome. So how do you manage to retell the same story but make it bad this time around? Well let’s go through all the problems in the order they appear and I’ll show you.

The first problem is our protagonist, Tommy. He’s bland. There’s not a single thing interesting about him. He has no personality. He doesn’t have any defining characteristics. This kid is just a total blank slate who is uninteresting to read about. Back in the first book, Paul Perez was the class clown. He was always joking to the point where it finally got him in so much trouble that his parents sent him away to boarding school. And even when things got bad he still kept it up because joking about his misfortune was the only way he could deal with it. He had a personality and he was fun to read about. Tommy doesn’t have that. In fact, his parents and sister show more personality in the 2 short chapters they are in than Tommy does the entire book.

And that’s also a problem, because Tommy’s family is the worst family ever. There are a lot of really aggravating characters in this book, but his family are some of the worst. They are all super overachievers who only care about winning and feel the need to compete over everything. And I mean everything. This kid’s parents can’t even sit down to eat breakfast without being like, “I ate the biggest breakfast!” “Oh yeah, well I ate my breakfast the fastest!” They are grown adults acting like annoying five year olds who feel the constant need to show off and be better than everyone else at everything even when it’s things that just don’t matter. Tommy’s sister is the same way and their parents encourage it while shunning Tommy for not acting like a petulant five year old. If this book had ended with Tommy getting a gun and blowing his family’s brains out it would have made for a more enjoyable ending and no one who read it would have been able to say he wasn’t justified in his actions.

Just trying to get through the first 2 chapters of this book was painful and a little hard to do because Tommy’s family aggravated and sickened me that much. But as bad as that was, how else do you take a story as good as Creature Teacher and make it not good? By changing the setting and pretty much merging it with one of the worst Goosebumps ever written. Yeah, the title of this book should have been “Mrs. Maaargh Goes To Camp Jellyjam”.

Okay it doesn’t actually take place at Camp Jellyjam. It takes place at a summer camp called Winner Island. But it may as well be King Jellyjam’s Sports Camp. Winner Island is a summer camp dedicated to making your kids into winners. It’s a sports camp where everyone is totally obsessed with winning all the time and not winning is shunned. (Which is why Tommy’s parents forced him to go there.) Sound familiar? It’s the exact model of Camp Jellyjam. The ideology of this camp is so disgusting to me it would have been hard to read even if I hadn’t already read The Horror at Camp Jellyjam and hated it. There is one part where Uncle Felix, the guy who runs the camp, actually tells Tommy, “Helping others is for losers. A winner doesn’t care about others. A winner takes what he wants for himself.” So now we get to add Uncle Felix and the rest of the camp counselors to the list of highly aggravating characters who need to be shot in the head.

The only improvement Winner Island has over King Jellyjam’s Sports Camp is the fact that the kids all at least have a reason to be so obsessed with winning this time. Because Mrs. Maaargh is one of the camp counselors and whoever is the biggest loser at the end of camp gets eaten.

The setting in the original book was perfect. Having Mrs. Maaargh as the headmistress of her own boarding school out in the middle of nowhere worked. She was able to set the school up like a prison where the kids weren’t able to get out or have contact with the outside world. She was the one in charge of the school so she had final say on how things were set up and how things were run. On top of that she was very clever on how she did things. Only the kids in the school knew she was a monster. The other teachers and staff were kept in the dark about this. Mrs. Maaargh could just say, “I have a medical condition. I’m very sensitive about it but the kids all make fun of me because of it.” Then any kid who tried to tell any adult that she was a monster was scolded for being insensitive. She even worked out a plan where once she had picked out which kid she was going to eat she started contacting his parents and telling them that he as acting up and having problems at school. So when she finally ate him no one would question the story if she told the police that he ran away into the woods surrounding the school.

But with this new setting nothing works. Winner Island may be an actual island where the kids are cut off from the outside world, but she isn’t the one in charge now. Uncle Felix is. That means he had to actually go out of his way to get this camp set up to imprison kids for the express purpose of letting a monster toy with and eat them. And he is doing just that. Mrs. Maaargh isn’t hiding the fact that she is a monster from anyone this time. Uncle Felix and all the camp counselors know she is a monster. They know she will eat one kid at the end of camp. And they are actively helping her and making sure the kids can’t get away. And they have apparently been doing it for years. Other than their warped mentality of what a winner is, the book never gives us any explanation as to why they are working with and helping this monster.

Nor is there ever any explanation given as to how they cover it up when every year one kid doesn’t come home from camp. In the first book they showed us how Mrs. Maaargh was a master at manipulating people and how she handled that, but this time they just don’t seem to worry about it. So I have to wonder how this camp hasn’t become the focus of a full blown police investigation and been shut down yet. One kid goes missing at this camp every year? The FBI would be all over that place. And they would be sure to notice that the whole island was wired with the surveillance cameras Uncle Felix uses to make sure none of the kids escape and demand to have those tapes handed over. And between Mrs. Maaargh constantly bragging to the kids about how she is going to eat one of them, and the camp counselors forcing the kids to play dangerous games like Dodge The Javelin, 90% of the footage would have to be edited out before handing it over and that would just tip off any investigation even more.

Changing the setting from “The Caring Academy” to a summer camp was one of the worst decisions R.L. Stine could have made with this book. Not just that, but it doesn’t even fit! The book is called Creature Teacher, not Creature Camp Counselor…

But I’m ranting too much about this one aspect. Let’s move on to the next problem with this book. The first book created a psychological aspect of horror. Mrs. Maaargh manipulated and toyed with these kids. They were always trying to please her but no one ever knew if whatever they were working on would make her happy or not. It was all up to her whims. Any given project could be just a likely to put them at the bottom of the chart as it could the top of the chart. This created an atmosphere of paranoia that became the true horror of the book. That’s gone in this book. With the sports camp setting it’s all a matter of how you preform in events. There is no aspect of uncertainty. You either win and she approves, or you don’t win and she doesn’t approve. Even Mrs. Maaargh’s son is gone. In the first book her son was always lurking around, spying on the characters, adding even more to the paranoia as you were never quite sure what he was up to… if he was trying to help them or trying to hinder them? But he’s been cut out of this book entirely. Stine took the scariest aspect of the first book and just removed it.

I’m not going to even bother going into any detail about what happens in the story because as I said it was just a retelling of the first book. So if you already read that one you already know what happens in this one. It’s like he just went down a check list checking off all the plot points from the original. Protagonist is enrolled late, putting him far behind all the other kids? Check. He makes two friends, a boy and a girl, who are both secretly sabotaging him to make sure they stay above him on the food chain? Check. He tries to escape but his escape is cut short because of bad weather? Check. The story was interesting in the first book but now we’ve already seen it done before so it just becomes boring.

Even the twist ending is so underwhelming it’s sad. After Tommy defeats Mrs. Maaargh with a Chekhov’s gun we saw coming a mile away, the whole camp decides to spend the last few days of camp celebrating. Campers and camp counselors alike. Everyone except Uncle Felix who locks himself in his office and then comes out two days later to introduce everyone to the new monster he got to take Mrs. Maaargh’s position. And the new monster is… No, it’s not Mrs. Maaargh’s son. That would have been a call back to the first book that would have made the ending of this book actually enjoyable. It’s just some random two headed monster who announces that at the end of camp he is going to be eating two kids. Which happens to be in two days…

So instead of finishing the book by saying, “Wow. I did not see that coming.” I instead finish the book by saying, “Huh… Uncle Felix is a dick for no good reason…”

I really hated this book.

[nextbigaiello]

Count Floyd...Why Was He Just EVERYWHERE!?

Okay so like I should preface that I have no problem with Count Floyd. On the contrary. I actually love Count Floyd and the fact that SCTV news anchor Floyd Robertson was his alter ego. The two could’ve just been two separate Joe Flaherty characters that had the same name, but they actually went out of their way to make the connection, and I absolutely love that. I already loved Floyd and his clear superiority over Earl Camembert, and adding onto his character with another opposing side really upgraded him to one of my favorite characters in SCTV. Both are hilarious characters. Floyd’s straight and narrow need to mock Earl and just tell the news for the adults while trying to be a recovering alcoholic, and his switch to a goofy and child friendly who knows he’s shelling out shit on Saturday nights make the character more than just one note. It really makes me happy when they acknowledge that both Floyds are the same Floyd in universe. The first time was in the very first edition of Monster Chiller Horror Theatre (from series 1, episode 18), where it was clearly mentioned in the opening credits: "With Floyd Robertson as Count Floyd." During one newscast, Earl gave a heartfelt testimonial to Floyd who had been at Rolling Hills Rehabilitation Center for the past year, mentioning that in addition to his news career, he had delighted children for years as Count Floyd. Another was in the very last edition of SCTV News (from series 6, episode 17), where an obviously inebriated Robertson showed up late to the newscast after a Monster Chiller Horror Theatre taping, still wearing his Count Floyd makeup. During that broadcast, he announced that Monster Chiller Horror Theatre's sound engineer was retiring, thus completely upstaging Camembert's announcement that he was retiring from the newscast; which is my favorite moment of this. Floyd Robertson being Count Floyd was a favorite fun fact of mine. But, the two characters started to separate and one got more attention than the other.

Sure! As is to come with great characters! Count Floyd had a powerful personality that was much stronger than regular Floyd Robertson, who was typically just the straight man to Earl’s antics. It is to be expected that more extravagant and formulaic characters would be more popular and thus be used more often. There’s nothing wrong with this. It just personally saddens me in this particular case because I really liked that Floyd Robertson was Count Floyd and had another side to him that could be let loose, and they just kind of threw that away making me wonder why they would go out of their way to combine the two if one side was going to have more of a separate impact. I don’t know. But don’t think that I hated Count Floyd because of his popularity boost. No no. He was still great; with his werewolf howl that he had and I never noticed as to why a vampire would howl nor seemed to care until Joe Flaherty on a podcast decided to call everyone out for not realizing it and now I feel dumb.....thanks Joe. But Count Floyd and Monster Chiller Horror Theatre was great! But Count Floyd was used A LOT with other projects and I don’t know necessarily why.

In SCTV, it didn’t bother me that Count Floyd became his own entity and focused on Monster Chiller Horror Theatre and being scary more often. But it was when he spun off into other media that I started to wonder....why the hell is Count Floyd in this?

Count Floyd (1982):

So this is a mini album....a VERY MINI ALBUM. There’s only four songs and they’re all strange. It's basically a comedy album and it sells that really well. I just don’t know exactly why they made it, especially in the height of SCTV. But prominent writers Dick Blasucci, Mike Short, and Paul Flaherty helped write and produce this with Joe, so there was some strength with this. It's just a strange little thing (literally) that kind of just escapes under the radar. If you want to check it out, go ahead. But don’t use it to nod off and get a lot of work done.

“The Weapon”, Rush (1984): https://youtu.be/iTBx0P0zOqA

Now I just stumbled on this today, but I feel like it should have a small mention. It’s not crazy like the other stuff I’ll talk about. In fact, its really cool and dope. It's interesting because this is just after SCTV, and we know Bob and Doug McKenzie were able to have Geddy Lee on their album in ‘81 due to Moranis knowing Lee from school, and we all know just how popular the McKenzies were and still kind of are. But Count Floyd had an opening video for the song “The Weapon” on Rush’s Signals and Grace Under Pressure tours, and it's a nice little fit. They use him well and it looks like everyone had fun.

The Completely Mental Misadventures Of Ed Grimley (1988)/ Cartoon Planet (90s): https://youtu.be/DcNi9qoaKqM

This is an interesting choice. Not a bad choice. Just an interesting one. The Completely Mental Misadventures Of Ed Grimley is really fun and weird and I highly recommend seeing it if you haven’t already. Even for an SCTV fan, it's very weird. Each episode actually pauses and takes time out to dedicate time to Count Floyd, which are live action segments against the cartoon world. It was no longer about scary movies and 3-D glasses, but a show about Count Floyd telling scary stories to an audience of kids who would mock him and tell him he wasn’t scary. But Count Floyd knew that the child friendly content wasn’t scary, and he always tried to make it sound scary so he could get paid.....that’s what his character was. But now he’s almost insulted now, when really the real Floyd could tell those kids to take a flying leap if he could. The reason for Count Floyd being on the show is because its Ed Grimley’s favorite show. Fair enough. I just think this starts a “Count Floyd is really just for kids” idea. Not that we wasn’t supposed to be something kids couldn’t watch, but Count Floyd and especially SCTV was something for all ages, and Count Floyd was meant as kind of a parody of those kinds of child friendly/spooky hosts from the 50s and 70s, so it wasn’t to be too sincere. But this started the trend of child friendly Count Floyd, and it would only go downhill from here.

Cartoon Planet just recycled the segments years later so they could have content. It features the characters from Space Ghost: Coast to Coast in a way that they’re trying to connect the two, but its clunky.

Making Real Funny Home Videos (1990): https://youtu.be/wLCDwrLCOVA

God this fucking thing-SO...I hate this. ‘Why’ is the biggest question I have for this. I don’t know the reasoning for this. All I know is that its dumb Count Floyd camp.

Basically what it is, is a “how to” style video in which Count Floyd....fully as Count Floyd, mugs to the camera for 30min and fails at teaching people how to make America’s Funniest Home Video videos. I’m annoyed by this VHS tape because this completely ruins the Floyd lore and makes Count Floyd this somewhat unstable and sad man. He has a full ass family; in SCTV he was “living with a girl and he wasn’t even married”, but also alluded to having a nephew. He never gets out of the character, and it kind of seems like he just kidnapped this family. Its less charming because this isn’t the same character from SCTV. This is a mad man who thinks he’s a vampire.

Look it isn’t the worst thing ever like I’m making it out to be. Its just character assassination in an extreme sense and its not even that funny. But I would at least check it out once if you want to see a strange little VHS score.

Smoke Detectives with Count Floyd (1990): https://youtu.be/2xb_My1HN6c

-_-

Must Be Santa (1999): https://youtu.be/1uXB9IR9vOw

A Canadian lifetime movie from 1999 has Count Floyd in it for a rough estimate of ten minutes. I also found this today. I skipped through it just so I could see how big a part he plays in the movie, and again....he doesn’t. The reason he’s there is because the main character’s name is Floyd Count, and the North Pole or whatever tries to do research on him because he’s like the new Santa, but Count Floyd shows up on the monitor instead and won’t shut the fuck up. It is a dumb cameo because its probably to be expected that they called the main character Floyd Count just so they could make this joke. But Count Floyd doesn’t do anything except howl and do intros to Monster Chiller Horror Theatre. A small cameo, but a dumb one nonetheless.

“Nightlife”, The Wet Secrets (2014): https://youtu.be/zYV1K3wyCnQ

It took a while, but this is a really good Count Floyd cameo. Well, I shouldn’t say its a Count Floyd cameo, more that its actually a Joe Flaherty cameo in which he plays a vampire. The music video is really cool and I appreciate it on a greater level because it kind of shows the difference between the past and the present and getting older, and how everything sucks, and especially that Joe Flaherty doesn’t need all this youthful shit that we have now. It's a really great video and song, and the end of the video gets me every time!

A Conclusion

Count Floyd is a really great character. I love his howl, his painted on widows peak, and his desire to sell kids cheap 3-D glasses for a stupidly large price. I love the fact that he was this alter ego to his staunch opposite, and the two could coexist together. I’m just annoyed that there were too many changes to cash in on popularity. If Count Floyd and Floyd Robertson were still the same person, Count Floyd wouldn't have been in those kid oriented projects. Because I like to think that Floyd Robertson has dignity (I mean as much as he can being an alcoholic). I like to think that Joe Flaherty is above this, and I think my grievances mostly stem from that.

No one talks about Joe Flaherty in the same sense of every other cast member from SCTV or the Second City stage. Sure hardcore comedy people will regale him as comedy gold, but that’s because he is. But there’s only so much I can take when I can only describe him to people as the dad from Freaks and Geeks and the “Jackass” guy from Happy Gilmore. And I’m not discrediting those roles at all. I love Freaks and Geeks and the part he plays in the show, I just wanted him to do more with that show! And Happy Gilmore is a really good movie and I actually really like that he’s given a somewhat big role in it. Joe Flaherty just flies under the radar for most people and it makes me sad. Especially when a lot of movies he does get to be a part of, they’re usually shit (Dogmatic, A Pig’s Tale, Home On The Range), or no one has ever heard of them or acknowledges him in the small role he plays (Going Berserk, Stripes, Snowboard Academy, Used Cars, Back To The Future Part II, etc..). Sesame Street Presents: Follow That Bird is my favorite movie of all time (sharing the #1 spot with My Blue Heaven) and Joe Flaherty is a big reason as to why that movie is continuously great. I just wish he got more recognition, and had film and tv roles that weren’t so cheap. He’s a comedy icon, and I want him to be treated as such. Count Floyd was a great character for him, but so was Floyd Robertson...and Guy Caballero...and Sammy Maudlin...and Norman Gorman, and Big Jim McBob, and so many others!

In the end, I just want Joe Flaherty and his creations to be cherished fondly. I want the character of Count Floyd to be the same Floyd from the very beginning with no hang ups and children to kick him while he’s down. Because then I know that comedy can still be just as funny throughout the years without aggressive changes that shoots for too low or too general an audience. Everyone can laugh at Count Floyd trying to describe the plot to the lost footage of “Blood Sucking Monkeys From West Mifflin Pennsylvania”, but I can’t say the same for adult child Count Floyd. To take from Guy Caballero and his wheelchair, all Count Floyd needs is some respect.

[sidney1966-blog]

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