#barrett-gate house

[elizabetharzanisketchbook]

Creaky corners and Grant, grant writing, 2023

[jadewolf22]

I'd Do it Again

Fem!Dom!Reader X Sub! Larissa  

Warnings: Fluff, angst, character death, death threats, physical abuse (?), ect… 

A/n: Inspired by the song "Die First" by Nessa Barrett  

Word Count: 657 

One year; That's how long it had been since you lost your wife, your beloved Larissa. Marilyn Thornhill–Laura Gates–whoever she was, had been arrested and Tyler was on his way to join her but that knowledge did nothing to soothe the ache in your heart. It wasn't fair, the fact that they were alive and Larissa was gone. Nevermore was still undergoing construction to fix the damage Crackstone had inflicted upon it and you hated seeing it from your window, the place Larissa had dedicated her life to, reduced to dust and stone. 

You hadn't left your house since the funeral, content on finding a way to undo this terrible twist of fate. Being a sorceress you had access to a wide array of spellbooks and, finally, you had found one to help you.  

You stood in the middle of a circle of candles in Larissa's office, muttering the spell under your breath. The smoke from the candles swirled around you, engulfing you in their grey ribbons. When they disappeared you were still in Larissa's office, but it was different. There were no cobwebs and the thick layers of dust were gone, everything was exactly as it had been a year ago. 

Happy that it had worked, you rushed from Larissa's office, making your way to the greenhouse, determined to make it in time.  

You rushed into the greenhouse as Thornhill pulled the syringe of nightshade from her pocket, aiming for Larissa. 

"No!" You cried as Thornhill brought the syringe down, running forward and pushing Larissa out of the way. Larissa hit the ground hard as you felt the syringe puncture your shoulder, the poison flooding your veins. Immediately, your body began to shut down. Your legs gave out and you fell to the ground, your body convulsing. 

"Y/n!!" Larissa screamed, running to you and dropping to her knees at your side, pulling you into her arm, "Y/n, no! Please, no! Don't leave me! Why would you do that?!" 

"I'd do it again . . ." You mumbled through the foam forming in your mouth, "If one of us has to die . . . Let me die first . . . I couldn't live without you . . . I love you, Riss . . ." 

Flooded with sadness and rage, Larissa left your side and turned to Thornhill, grabbing the smaller woman by her throat and growling, "Save her . . ." 

"No." Thornhill gasped, slowly turning blue  

"Save her or join her!" Larissa hissed, tightening her hold on the redhead's throat. 

That was the last thing you heard before your world went dark.  

You woke up in a hospital room a few days later. It was dark, the only light coming from the monitors strapped to you and a small lamp on your bedside table. You groaned, looking around the small room, smiling when you saw that you had company. Larissa was sitting in a chair at your side, asleep, her head nestled in her arms on the edge of your bed.  

"Ris," you called as loudly as your hoarse voice would allow, "Ris!" 

Larissa snapped awake, looking around wildly before her eyes rested on you. The shock and joy on Larissa's face was almost laughable, but you just smiled, tears welling in your eyes.  

"Y/n!" Larissa cried, tears spilling down her face as she threw herself into you, hugging you tightly. 

"Larissa . . ." you whispered, wrapping your arms around her as she openly began to sob, "It's okay. I'm okay." 

"I thought I lost you . . . " Larissa sobbed, tightening her hold on you. 

"I'm not going anywhere." you assured, "But Larissa," you waited until she looked you in the eye before saying, "I meant what I said . . . I'd do it again . . . If it comes down to saving you or saving me, it will always be you." 

"Let's pray that it never comes down to that again." Larissa whispered, nestling into your side. 

You smiled down at the beautiful blonde, kissing the top of her head before falling back into a peaceful sleep.

[paradlselost]

⠀ ⠀ ˙ . ꒷ 𝓕ANDOMS . 𖦹˙

TASK FORCE 141 — john price , simon ‘ghost’ riley , john ‘soap’ mactavish , gary ‘roach’ sanderson , kyle ‘gaz’ garrack , nikolai , ++ alex keller , farah karin , alejandro vargas , rodolfo ‘rudy’ parra .

KORTAC — könig , nikto , kim ‘horangi’ hong-jin , sebastian kruger ++ valeria garza , philip graves + the shadows , vladimir makarov .

TWO — arthur morgan , john marston , dutch van der linde , hosea matthews ( platonic only ) , abigail marston , mary beth gaskill , karen jones , tilly jackson , javier escuella , sean mcguire , charles smith , lenny summers , josiah trewlany , sadie adler , molly o’shea , kieran duffy , albert mason , charles châtenay , eagle flies , proetus + acrisius .

ONE + REVOLVER — jack marston ( teen + adult only ) ++ red harlow .

NEW VEGAS — arcade gannon ( mlm only ) , benny gecko , craig boone , fantastic , jason bright , joshua graham ‘ the burned man ’ , robert house , sunny smiles , viktor , yes - man .

FOUR — nate / nora , ada , cait , curie , paladin danse , deacon , desdemona , glory , john hancock , nick valentine , piper wright , porter gage , preston garvey , robert maccready , x6 - 88 .

SHOW — lucy maclean , norm maclean , the ghoul - cooper howard , maximus , lee moldaver , thaddeus .

VOUGHT — homelander , a-train , black noir , black noir II , queen maeve , lamplighter , translucent , firecracker , sister sage , the deep , ashley barrett , soldier boy , crimson countess , stan edgar .

THE BOYS — billy butcher , hughie campbell , annie january , sergei ‘frenchie’ , kimiko , marvin milk .

OTHERS — victoria nueman , luke riordan , andre anderson , cate dunlap , marie moreau , jordan li , emma meyer , sam riordan , maverick , popclaw , webweaver .

SLASHERS — jason vorhees : friday the thirteenth , michael myers : halloween og + rz , billy loomis : scream , stu macher : scream , brahms heelshire : the boy , harry warden : my bloody valentine , billy lenz : black christmas , bo sinclair , vincent sinclair , lester sinclair : house of wax , bubba sawyer : texas chainsaw massacre , thomas hewitt : texas chainsaw massacre reboot + beginning .

FAR CRY — john seed , joseph seed , jacob seed , faith seed , sharky boshaw , jess black , hurk drubman jr , adelaide drubman , grace armstrong , jerome jeffries , eli palmer , joey hudson , staci pratt , earl whitehorse . pagan min , ajay ghale . vaas montenegro , jason brody .

BALDURS GATE 3 — orgin dark urge , gale dekarios , astarion ancunín , shadowheart , lae’zel , wyll ravengard , karlach , halsin , jaheira , minsc , minthara , dame aylin , isobel thorm , omeluum , the emperor , rolan , dammon , ketherick thorm , enver gortash , orin , kar’niss , nym , sorn , raphael .

SUPERNATURAL — dean winchester , sam winchester , castiel , gabriel , adam winchester , lucifer , michael , anna milton , charlie bradbury ( wlw only ) .

OTHER — connor : detroit become human , joe goldberg : you , eddie gluskin : outlast whistleblower , father paul hill / john pruitt : midnight mass , riley flynn : midnight mass , sheriff hassan shabazz : midnight mass , kurt wagner : x - men , remy lebeau : x - men , peter maximoff : x - men , adrian chase : peacemaker , abner krill : suicide squad , edward nashton : batman .

[mixamorphosis]

Blog post & linked up tracklist [HERE]

Sarah Vaughan - September Song (DOL)

Nina Simone - House Of The Rising Sun (Live At The Village Gate) (Vinyl Passion)

Odetta - Down On Me (Vanguard)

Harry Nilsson - The Moonbeam Song (Fame)

Mark-Almond - The City (Harvest)

Jose Gonzalez - Crosses (Peacefrog)

JJ Cale - Magnolia (Mercury)

Fink - Sort Of Revolution (The Cinematic Orchestra Mix) (Ninja Tune)

Bruce Springsteen - Nothing Man (Columbia)

Lesley Duncan - Love Song (CBS)

Darondo - Didn't I? (Luv N' Haight)

Arrested Development - People Everyday (7" Metamorphosis Edit) (Cooltempo)

Pastor T.L Barrett & The Youth For Christ Choir - Like A Ship (Light In The Attic)

A Tribe Called Quest - Jazz (Jive)

William de Vaughn - Be Thankful For What You Got (Chelsea)

Cody ChesnuTT - Serve This Royalty (One Little Indian)

KRS One - Health, Wealth & Self (Jive)

Marvin Gaye - What's Going On? (Tamla)

Margie Joseph - I Been Down (Atlantic)

Arnold Blair - Trying To Get Next To You (Soul Jazz)

Sylvia Striplin - You Can't Turn Me Away (Uno Melodic)

Fred Wesley & The JB's - If You Don't Get It The First Time, Back Up And Try Again (Polydor)

Joe Bataan - Gypsy Woman (Fania)

Curtis Mayfield - Move On Up (Extended Version) (Curtom)

Gloria Jones - Tainted Love (Spectrum)

Jackie Wilson - (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher & Higher (Music Club)

Steely Dan - Reelin' In The Years (MCA)

Tritons - (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction (Barclay)

Download available via [Hearthis]

[taco-pal]

STARFIELD THOUGHTS SO FAR:

Been playing Starfield and while I love the game's astronomical highs, the lows the game contains are all old problems other games have already solved and also very annoyingly Bethesda design choices. It's baffling how Bethesda oscillates between being occasionally brilliant or stumbling into the most boring versions of quest design and character choices.

For instance, the gameplay loop of Fallout 4 felt incredible; loot houses and buildings for construction material while usually getting into some great gunfights that reinforce the idea of trying to survive in the wasteland and build a community. BUT we're going to have such a strange choice of a plot set up and limit the choices you're able to make and simplify the lore. Also you're not going to be able to romance the cool detective crooner and easy choice for love interest android man Nick Valentine because we're prudish weirdos who think it'd be icky!!!!

The main cast and main quests of Starfield are painfully dull. No one has any sort of real character depth. It's like they thought of a few archetypes but didn't give them any real sense of personality beyond that. Walter should be portrayed as a capitalist freak, instead he's a philanthropic capitalist funding his dream. Sarah Morgan is so robotic. Andreja is potentially interesting but has no depth. Matteo should be constantly presenting conflict within the group because he's religious, etc etc. Barrett seemed like he had a personality but there hasn't been much depth to him since the beginning of the game.

It's like Bethesda wanted to be as painfully inoffensive as possible that they whitewash conflicting ideologies constantly, so much so to the point that it feels like there's no real ideological differences between the main factions outside of the ones committing real crimes. Like, how could a free market economy EVER have a united government in space? How do all of these randos afford to have space ships? WHY give the player a ship immediately? It's also a massive misstep to not IMMEDIATELY include alien civilizations for interesting conflict!!!! This game wants to feel like Star Trek/Mass Effect but it misses so much of what makes those stories interesting. It is so apparent that they started working on this a decade ago because the science fiction tropes they present here became tired tropes between 2010- to now. Do you like Firefly? Here is our Space Western planet :) Do you like cyberpunk? Here is our neon drenched cityscape :) Do you like the Citadel from Mass Effect? Here is our version. :) It just does all of that stuff in ways that aren't even half ass effectve. It's also so fucking weird that they just don't want anyone to look hot? It feels so distinctly American in that it is so prudish and too cowardly to acknowledge that sex even exists in this universe lmfao. EVERYONE is so overdressed! It's hilarious. In the year that Baldur's Gate 3, the most horny game ever dropped? Laughable.

There's so much potential for interesting dramatic conflict and they don't explore any of it! It's such a boring way to present Constellation. Sarah Morgan says they do shady shit all the time and know what a jail cell is like, but has a meltdown the moment anything morally grey happens! It's like Bethesda is so averse to having any of these characters be disliked, so they ironed out any possible sense of real personality they could have.

It's so frustrating because there is so much potential here; a lot of the side quests are fun and present great dramatic conflict, even though they are undercut by some flat outcomes. Exploring planets and the ship stuff is all fun and engaging, jetpacking around and shooting dudes is fun as hell too. And yet the main quest is so damn boring it takes away from all of that. Ugh.

This is all without even getting into the horrid UI and terrible decision to NOT INCLUDE LOCAL AND CITY MAPS????? I want to love this game and have really enjoyed some of it! It's just got some very distinctly Bethesda flaws. It brings me no joy to say this. Ugh. :\

[fleshybones]

My favorite bands are Live, Bush, Alice In Chains, Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam, Motley Crue, Heart, Deep Purple, Porno for Pyros, Guns & Roses , The Shits, Minus the Bear, Blind Melon, Violent Femmes, Smashig Pumpkins, RealEstate, The Byrds, Pixies, America, Collective Soul, Interpol, Silversun Pickups, Kottonmouth Kings, Blur, My Bloody Valentine (when they were indie instead of Dark), Broken Bells,  Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., Talking Heads, Foster the People, Neutal Milk Hotel, Queens of the Stoneage, Galaxie 500, Grizly bear, the Antlers, Arcade Fire, Rolling Stones, The Who

Live Concerts I had enjoyed that were deleted: Yes, Billy Idol, Todd Rundgren, Jane’s Addiction, the Doors, Heart, Fleetwood Mac, Blondie, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Coldplay 

I am interested in Heart, Jefferson Airplane, The Association, Grateful Dead, Kenny Loggins, the Monkees, Boston, Poison, Motley Crue, cheech & Chong, cheap trip, the guess who, Peter frampton, grand funk (red), Gordon light foot, van Morrison , foreigner 

CD case fill with some psychedelic albums from 60s

Vintage cartoons from the 

Broadcast – haha Sound

Pharoah Sanders – Karma

Syd Barrett – The Madcap Laughs

Comets on Fire – Blue Cathedral

Silver Apples – Silver Apples

Oranssi Pazuzu - Värähtelijä

Blue Cheer – Vincebus Eruptum

Radiohead – Kid A

Boards of Canada – Music Has the Right To Children

Baroness – Yellow and Green X

Black Sabbath – Black Sabbath

Shuggie Otis – Inspiration Information

Deerhunter – Cryptograms X

Lush – Spooky X

The Byrds – Fifth Dimension

The 13th Floor Elevators – The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators

Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion

Caribou – Up In Flames

Beach Boys – Surf’s Up

Olivia Tremor Control – Dusk At Cubist Castle

Hawkwind – Space Ritual

The Orb – The Orb’s Adventures Beyond the Ultraworld

Genesis – Foxtrot X

Talking Heads – Fear of Music X

Frank Zappa – Hot Rats

Various Artists – Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965–1968

The Jimi Hendrix Experience – Electric Ladyland

Prince – Sign ‘O’ The Times

Shadow – Endtroducing…

Boredoms – Vision Creation Newsun

Yes – Fragile

Neutral Milk Hotel – In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Pink Floyd – Animals

My Bloody Valentine – Loveless

Mutantes – Os Mutantes

King Crimson – In the Court of the Crimson King

Sly and the Family Stone – Stand!

The Velvet Underground – The Velvet Underground & Nico

The Jimi Hendrix Experience – Are You Experienced?

Alice Coltrane – Journey in Satchidananda

Pink Floyd – Piper At the Gates of Dawn

Love – Forever Changes X

Flaming Lips – The Soft Bulletin

Spiritualized – Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space

Zombies – Odessey and Oracle X

Beach Boys – SMiLE

Miles Davis – Bitches Brew

Can – Tago Mago

The Beatles – Revolver

Funkadelic – Maggot Brain

Notes on Movies:

Malignant, Night House, Spider-Man Homecoming, The Eyes of Tammy Faye, The Alpinist, Swan Song, Old, Candyman, Venom , The colour out of space, Haunt, Doctor Sleep, The Lodge, Lucky Day, Stuber ,Tammy ,The Heat , Moonlight, Suicide Squad1&2, The Conjuring 3, Snake Eyes, Spiral , The Sparks Brothers, New Jurassic Park , Cruella, CryMacho , Halloween Kills, Ron’s Gone Wrong , The French Dispatch , Last Night in Soho, Antlers , Dune, Ghostbusters Aftrlife , Rava the last dragon , Licorice Pizza , The Lost City , The Northman , Father Stu , Firestarter , Everything Everywhere All At Once , Memory , Moon fall, Morbius , Ghostbusters Afterlife , Last Night in Soho , The Last Son ,No Time To Die , Nightbirde , Azor, Belfast ,Devil’s Fruit, Yellowstone , 1883, Encanto, The Matrix Ressurection, Voyagers, Of stars & Men , Tony Hawk Proving Ground , Skate Girl, Getting Nowhere Faster , Quit Your Day Job , Devoured by Gravity, Blade Runner 2019 , Battle of the sexes, Cake , Willoughbys , Tim burton , Night of the living dead, Fright night , The lost boys , Beetlejuice , Garden state, Orange County , Bubble Boy, Clueless , The Good Girl, Crazy/Beautiful, The Girl Next Door, Out Cold , Fast Times, Valley Girls, Grease , Donnie Darko, Brady Bunch , Bedknobs & broomsticks, Smart house , Johnny tsunami, Free Willy , Touchstone Pictures , Raiders of the lost arc , in the valley of the dolls, Rosemary’s Baby Ira Levin ,Down and Out in Beverly Hills.1986, 1987 Wall Street 

MOVIES: GENRE HORROR 

Amityville horror Portal  Halloween town Hour of the wolf Blue velvet  Thrilling Alfred Hitchcock Psycho Vertigo North by northwest Rear window Strangers on a train Dial M for murder  Rebecca  Poltergeist 1-4 When a stranger calls  Last house on the left  My bloody valentine 3D Happening  Disturbia Insidious 1-3 The conjuring 1-2 One missed call Stay alive  The fog The forest  Under wraps Hocus pocus  Flight plan  Mama  The eye  The thing Annabelle The visit The monster  The disappointment room  Viral  The Void  The love witch  Split Don't breathe  The Ring 1-2 The Evil Dead The midnight hour Bubba ho tep  Hotel Rwanda Darkness Falls  Bound  Tales from the crypt Sucker punch  The Heist  The vvitch

•My favorite movies : A Walk to Remember Hide&Seek  Breakfast Club Ed.tv  Toy Story  Ponyo Perks of Being a Wallflower  Child’s Play  Eurotrip  Napolean Dynamite  Signs Pursuit of Happiness  Da Vinci Code   The Watch Eternal sunshine  Dazed & Confused  The Fountain   Zodiac  Shawn of the Dead  The Reader  MissMarch  Fire it Up  Project X The Happening  Angels & Demons  Sex Drive Leprauchan Labyrinth  Butterfly Effect  Blue Crush ACM special classic Pocahontas Thebirds  Dr.Strangelove Smokey and the Bandit1  James Bond Skyfall  Who Framed Roger Rabbit  Neverending Story A Cure For Wellness Nocturnal Animals  Dr. Zhivago Stepbrothers Jaws  Clue  Children of the Corn  Saturday Night Fever  Crimson Peake  Tomb raider  Brothers Karamazov Snow white  The Box Trolls Kujo and the two strings  Singin’in the rain  Les Miserables SLC Punk  Cirque de Soleil AmimalHouse  one fell over the Cuckoo nest  west side story  Close encounters of the 3rd kind Swiss family Robinson thunder island niptuck  the big Lebowski  Sid the Kid ‘Syd & Nancy’   Little miss sunshine Mad world  The Outsider Lord of the Flies Willy Wonka  and the chocolate factory SecondHand   LionsThe Wizard of Oz  Revenge of the Nerds Alice in Wonderland  The Bad Batch  Point Break  once Upon a Time in Hollywood  Space Troopers SuperStar The Goonies  Little Shop of Horrors  Sleepy Hollow  The Prestige /Proletariat  The Lost Boys   Honey I shrunk the kid Dinosaurs  Freaky little Fuckers Coyote Ugly Rainbow Brite they smoke peyote in Amillion ways to Die in the West  Buster Scruggs brokeback Mountain  Silent Hill White Noise Sword and Stone Bedknobs and Broomsticks  Date Night ..

Her won’t go down to the water edge 🎵

[wh3r3sth3l0ve]

Sora x Tifa

Part 11

Part 10 below

Sora went through and heard the gate being instantly closed. He went straight and after 5 or so minutes of walking he found something looking like a seahorse but straight from the nightmare, as tall as himself, floating above the ground.

He whistled to get the attention of the creature and once it was near enough, he used a fire spell. It didn't work out very well, so he chose the traditional way. His keyblade swung from one direction to another and in no time the beast was dead. “I'll come back for you.” he thought looking at the carcass.

Three similar creatures and two giant sharp-toothed rats later Sora was back at the gate, carrying the evidence. The Guardian stared at him clearly impressed. He gave Sora some directions where to go and went back to his job.

15 minutes later Sora was at the gym asking about the Boss of the Guard.

- What do we have here? A new hero? - the man smiled. - Name’s Terion.

- Rose. - they shook hands. - What can I get for that?

Sora wasn’t really convinced about telling his true name to a complete stranger.

- Let’s see. 50 for each of those terpiscolts and 10 for each wererat. 220 gil in total. We’ll make it 250 to encourage you to hunt more of these.

- Not much but I’ll take it.

He took the money and went back to the bar to get some food.

Seventh Heaven was crowded but Sora found the last empty table in the corner and sat there, looking around. People here looked happy, they were drinking, eating and chatting. “No one noticed me. Good.” His face was serious as he got lost in his thoughts. “The only thing I can do is fight. Miserable.” He was deep down in sadness, looking at his hands laid on the table. He didn’t notice Tifa walking to him with a plate full of food.

- Here, it’s on the house for our Sector 7 Slums hero. - she smiled at him.

- Thank you. - Sora answered ripped out of his thoughts. - What’s that?

Something full of proteins to rebuild your energy after a fight.

He took the first bite and closed his eyes with pleasure, it was amazing. A memory flashed before his eyes: he was in the kitchen, giving a high five to a small rat smiling at him. “Little Chef!” the name of his friend came to his mind. As he opened his eyes again, he noticed Tifa still standing by his table, looking at him with curiosity.

- You like it?

- It’s delicious, thank you. And I’m still paying for that.

Tifa giggled quietly.

- Of course you are. - she winked.

- Why did you call me a hero?

- Here, in Slums, news is faster than your walk. - she smiled. - I have to go back to work.

She turned around and jogged behind the bar top. “It’s way too short.” Sora commented on Tifa's skirt in his mind when he eventually was able to think again. He finished his meal and relaxed on his chair.

Someone really big came inside. He was wearing sunglasses and a beard, his tank top was revealing incredible muscularity, right arm was replaced by an impressive machine gun. “This must be Barrett.” Sora reminded himself of Tifa's words from the day before. Barrett walked straight to the bar and nodded his head to Tifa with a welcome. A young girl ran out from the background and hugged him tightly. Barrett smiled and hugged her back, they talked for a bit. “Father to… What was the girl’s name?”

Sora noticed Tifa pointing him with a chin and Barrett looked in his direction.

A second later he was approaching Sora’s table, who stood up to say hi.

- New merc, huh? - Barrett reached out his left hand.

- You can call it like that. - Sora shook his hand.

- You mind me joining?

- Not at all.

They both sat down.

- What’s your name?

Sora wasn’t sure if Tifa revealed his true name and it was a test or if she really hadn't mentioned a thing. “He’s a friend of hers. I’ll take this chance”.

- Sora but officially I introduce myself as Rose.

- Sora works for me, uh. I'm Barrett. What’cha doin’ here?

- Looking for jobs. I don’t think I’ll stay here for long.

- Well, usually if Tifa tells me to meet someone, that someone stays, y’know? - he looked back at the bar and shouted. - Hey, Marlene! Get daddy and this gentleman somethin’ to drink, will ya?

Marlene nodded, smiling and poured two glasses of beer. She then carefully brought it to the table.

- That’s Marlene, my lil’ girl. - Barrett introduced his daughter with pride.

- Daddy, I’m 13, I’m not little. - she gave him an outraged look, smiled at Sora and curtsied politely. - Good morning.

- For me you’ll always be. Now go back and ask Tifa if she needs help, huh?

Marlene went back to the bar and took care of dirty plates and glasses.

- Beautiful, isn’t she? - Barrett asked, looking at the bar top.

- Yeah, she is. - Sora answered automatically, staring at Tifa bustling.

Barrett looked at him, then at Tifa, and again at him.

- I dunno if we’re talking ‘bout the same girl, huh?

Sora shuddered and looked at Barrett’s smirking face.

- Ya hav’ to be really tough and careful ‘bout that one. - He pointed Tifa with his thumb. - She’s some woman. And a whole lotta guys want her. The same lotta guys were sent off. - he laughed.

- I’ll remember that.

Barrett tilted his glass and drank everything in one shot.

- Well, gotta go. That one’s on me, you’ll repay someday.

- Sure, thanks.

Barrett walked out the bar and Sora dived into his thoughts about Tifa and what he just heard about her.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“FOUND GUILTY OF STEALING GAS,” Kingston Whig-Standard. February 3, 1933. Page 5. ---- George Smith of Kingston Remanded at Napanee for Sentence ---- NAPANEE, Feb. 3— In finding George Smith of Kingston guilty on a charge of the theft of gas from a car near the skating rink on Monday evening during the progress of hockey games, Magistrate Graham addressing Smith to the Police Court on Wednesday morning said: "You were a party to the whole transaction and you should have kept the boys who were with you out of trouble and you will be remanded until Saturday for sentence, and to the meantime your record will be looked up in the city of Kingston" 

Appearing with Smith was Arthur Pearson, a ’teen age boy of Napanee who was charged with the theft of gasoline and who was also remanded until Saturday for sentence. 

During the progress of the games gas was taken from George Dickson's car, and Provincial Officer Barrett who was at the rink, took Smith in custody. The accused elected to be tried by the magistrate and a plea of not guilty was entered.

Provincial Officer Barret, the first witness said that he had seen Smith on Monday evening, January 30th. Proceeding with his story Mr. Barrett said: "I came out of the rink and as I stepped through the gateway, I could smell gas. Proceeding a short distance I saw Smith come out from behind Dickson's car, also Laidley’s car, he going to the west side of the road." 

Continuing Mr. Barrett said: "I saw Smith walk sharply across the road and hide behind a car on the east side of the road. I stood still for a minute and saw the accused emus from out behind a car and go north. I suspected something and pursued the accused and in bringing him back, found a bottle and pipeing. The gas was running over the grass. On examination i found the gas tank empty and I placed Smith under arrest." 

James Souvie, a ‘teen age lad who had come to Napanee in the afternoon with Smith, one James Murray, and the twelve year old son of the accused sworn said that he had met Smith and with Murray went for a walk after arriving in Napanee. The wltnesa said he had given Arthur Pearson the pipe, but did not see any bottle. Asked "What was the piping for," the witness said, "I had an idea that they wanted to steal gas." 

Arriving at the gates near the rink the witness said that Smith and Pearson got out of the car and went towards the rink. The remainder of the party remained with the car, as Murray, who was the driver had to fix a fan belt. The witness said that he could not see Smith and Pearson all the time. He heard Smith say that he wanted gas to return to Kingston. Murray, the driver of the car, sworn, said that Pearson had asked Souvie for the pipe, and continuing the witness, said "I held a light for him to procure it." Murray said that Smith had referred to go on two occasions before supper and at the rink. The witness detailed the happenings near the rink. He said he saw Smith and Pearson take the pipe but did not see any bottle. 

Arthur Pearson, who is only sixteen yeasr of age, said that James Souvie called to see witness to order to procure some gas for a fellow to that he might return to Kingston. The witness said that he didn't remember anything about the bottle.

The accused said that he and Smith got out of the car and went towards the rink. "I took the cap off the car and put to the pipe," said Pearson, "but I did not see any bottle." 

Continuing Pearson said: "Smith walked up to the car where I had started the gasoline running” 

Asked: "Why did you leave the car?" the accused replied. "Smith told me to start the gas running. Smith’s Story Smith then related his story as follows: "I reside to Kingston, am 34 years of age and have five children. Accompanied by Jim Souvie and Murray, we left Kingston about 4 o'clock and arrived at Souvie’s house in Napanee about 5 o'clock. Accompanied by my son, the four of us went for a walk and soon came back to the market square. Souvie saw Pearson, called to him and the party proceeded to the house. I spoke about not having enough gas to return to Kingston and Pearson asked 'Is there any piping around?’ Souvie then went out and procured the piping, Murray holding the lantern. The piping was handed to Pearson who bent it and tried it with water to see if it would work. We then got into the car and drove to the rink. 

"Pearson told us to pull up at the gate where there to a light and Pearson jumped out of the car and proceeded down the road fifteen to twenty-five feet ahead of me, and started the gas running out of a car. I walked to the cars and then walked out between the two cars and was nearing the Ford car which brought us to Napanee, when Mr. Barrett stopped me and took me back down the road.” 

A signed statement was then produced by acting Crown Attorney Gerald Smith which the accused identified and on which the accused had signed his name as Souvie. The accused said that he had need the name Souvie during the war. Asked about the bottle Smith said: "I know nothing about it. I saw it during the early part of the evening and it was to the kitchen.” The accused could not swear as to the bottle being in the car, as he had not seen it until after being arrested. Continuing Smith said, “I did not tell Pearson to start the gas but I knew what he was going to do after he had left the car." He said that the night was clear and that he could see quite plainly.

Officer Barrett was then recalled and stated that the night was not clear and that he had to use a flashlight to see the bottle and piping. The accused asked permission to say something and startled the court by asking that he be given a suspended sentence. The accused said that he had five children and admitted that his mother was on relief to Kingston.

The magistrate asked him if he had been to trouble before and the accused said that he had served time but over a year ago. However, his record will be looked up and both he and Pearson were remanded until Saturday. 

Pearson's mother was in court and said that her son had been very good for some time put and she was of the opinion that her son had been led into this trouble by Smith. 

A disposition was made of the case against George McKittrick of Richmond Township for the theft of a watch, the property of Hubert McCracken, to which he pleaded guilty on Monday, when he was given six months determinate and six months Indeterminate in the Ontario Reformatory by Magistrate Graham.

[poetryfoundation-potd]

Autobiography of Thud

By Omotara James

After Donika Kelly

You live in Elmont, New York,

in a small house with a big yard

and gate that doesn’t lock.

Have a best friend

with shiny black hair

called Clarissa, who shares everything

and might be the only person

to smile when she sees you.

You play at her house after school.

She is not as brown or round,

but that doesn’t make her more or less

beautiful than you, just likable.

You take the bus to school Mondays–Fridays,

where you almost always share a seat twice

the width of your womanly hips, unless

someone is sick and no one wants the seat

next to you, where you practice how to leave

your body. You daydream

that your mum doesn’t have to work

and sometimes you’re sure you see her

powder blue car trailing the bus, just out the window.

You don’t wear glasses, but think they look smart.

Can still look people in the eye

when you speak and are spoken to.

Unsupervised adults, busy boys and girls

have things to say about your  figure, which

is the word men are most likely to use

when addressing a growing girl. Trauma

isn’t a word you’ve heard anywhere, including

the playground or the tele. Instead, you pick

up pretty junk, like muddy flower barrettes and strange coins.

Your pockets jangle on the bus home with your private

collection. You strew your loves with abandon

across the kitchen counter. Clarissa shines them,

placing them next to the repurposed tin can

on her dresser. Neither one of you knows the word altar

or wears the fancy barrettes to school.

Your mother works overnight. Your father too.

But his Aramis follows her Opium parfum

like the sun does the moon. In the morning,

the near miss of his body seems easier.

You roam like a buffalo through his possessions.

Spritz his cologne. Finger his ties. You could be anyone.

Mom shouts the warning for the bus. Reality

returns to the tongue like dry cud. You trot

through the kitchen to graze in peace, where

you find a different, familiar island gyal.

Every six months, maybe, dad brings one in need

of work before she travels back home. They

watch you and your brother. Closely. Discern that

Trinidad is not   your home. You awake to girls

in the shape of women towering over you.

They are as mean as square-cut glass. Get up

for school. They remind you how you are American,

which you learn is a slur for fat. They leave.

They return six months later with mangos,

black rum cake and small parcels. They teach you

fatty-fatty boom-boom is the sound you make

when you walk, when you smile or enter

a room:   fatty-fatty boom-boom.

You don’t know how to fight,

but have instincts to protect your brother

against people he won’t remember.

You love him now. Your secret is

that you have usurped his real mother. You play

Candy Land and Monopoly. Your brother

loves money so much that you trade him

pink and blue bills for Halloween candy.

You are aware you like food more

than you’re supposed to. You unwrap the candy

beneath your pillow so the sound doesn’t carry.

It’s summer, finally! You’re officially a second grader.

The first day at camp, your training bra is discovered

by Jessica Rose in the locker room.

Who accuses you of weighing 100 pounds.

Who washes her hair every day,

and smells like flowers before they die.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/159235/autobiography-of-thud

Audio Included

[hot-girl-nancy]

Honey

Pairing: Nancy Wheeler x fem!reader Summary: It's a shitshow of a summer and Nancy Wheeler has the prettiest smile you have ever seen. A/N: So this is going to be a series, I'll update a masterlist as I post more parts! You are more than welcome to send in suggestions and ideas! ----

It was hard to pretend I didn’t hear the shuffling in the distance while trying to steady my breath. Beside me, Nancy was crouched down and holding on to her walkie-talkie with her left hand. She turned the device completely off and reached out for me with her free hand. I looked down at our intertwined hands and gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Do you think it’s still there?” Nancy whispered.

I tried to peek around the corner of the house we were hiding behind. While I wasn’t able to see anything, I could still hear a low chittering sound. That sound alone could flip the strongest of stomachs. I could feel my heart begin to beat faster as I looked back at her. Using my free hand, I put my index finger over my mouth to tell her to be quiet. Nancy’s eyes grew wider and her grip on my hand tightened.

We had no weapons, no forms of safe communication, and no flashlights. We were sitting ducks in this hell-fashioned neighborhood of the Upside Down. I reached down onto the ground to feel around for anything I could toss to create a distraction. Nancy realized what I was doing and she pulled one of her hair barrettes out and handed it to me. Though it was small, it was also metal and would make just the right amount of noise needed to make our escape. I smiled at her, a silent, thank you, before standing to my feet and reeling back to toss the item. 

Suddenly, there was a loud static noise that tore through the air! I dropped to my knees and covered my ears. Nancy looked at me frantically as she covered hers as well. The creature made a high-pitched whining sound as it bolted away from where we were. The static noise stopped abruptly and a small figure rounded the corner. 

“You guys would be dead without me,” Erica said smugly. “Now let’s go before it comes back, that noise won’t deter them for long.”

“Thanks, Erica!” Nancy and I said together. We followed her through the vines of the Upside Down to where our bikes were thrown so we could get back to a gate. 

“Where is everyone else?” Nancy asked, picking her bike up from the ground. She grimaced as slime fell off the handlebars with a loud slurping sound.

“Dustin, Robin, Eddie, and Steve are back at the gate waiting for us. Jonathan, Mike, Will, and El are heading back to the Creel house to look for more info on what we’re going up against.” Erica replied with a shrug.

“What about Lucas and Max?” I asked, pulling my bike up as well. 

“Probably sucking face somewhere being gross.” Erica gagged dramatically. I let out a small laugh at that and we pushed off towards the gate, peddling fast and staying close together.

“One day you’ll be sucking face with someone and it won’t be so gross.” Nancy laughed. 

“I’ve seen who you suck face with, it’s gross.” Erica shot back. I stifled the laughter that threatened to spill out as Nancy cut her eyes toward us. 

—--

“Stop wiggling like that!” Steve shouted out as he held on to my right arm.

“I’m not wiggling, you’re just weak!” I shouted back reaching up (or was it down?) with my other arm to get a better grasp on him. Eddie helped Steve pull me out.

“The wiggling you felt was probably your arms about to give out.” Robin snorted. “Noodle arms, honestly.”

“Listen,” Steve started, putting one hand on his hip and the other in front of him in a “stop��� motion. “I’ve been working out, so let’s maybe chill with the noodle arm nonsense.”

“So are you implying I was too heavy?” I crossed my arms and glared at him. 

Dustin let out a loud laugh and turned to Steve in excitement. “How do you plan to answer?” Dustin giggled, “Be careful Steve, Y/N could definitely take you in a fight.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s not what I was saying at all. Can we please just,” he gestured to everyone in the room wildly, “leave?” Dustin’s face dropped as he realized there wouldn’t be a fight. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “bullshit” under his breath. 

Steve, Eddie, and Dustin started loading equipment into the trunk of Steve’s car while Nancy was fiddling with the walkie-talkie after turning it back on, trying to reach out to the other team. Robin, Erica, and I tasked ourselves with supervising the boys and eating some of the snacks we brought. 

“Son of a bitch, you guys are no help,” Dustin said, lifting some homemade weapons to dump in the trunk. 

Erica smirked at him, “I kept you dummies alive, you all owe me. I was thinking that money would be an appropriate gift. I’m not greedy, $50 sounds reasonable.” 

“$50!” Robin exclaimed, choking on a skittle. “There’s no way in hell we have that kind of cash, especially after Rambo over here used most of our funds for a shotgun.” “A shotgun that will save our lives,” Nancy replied. She stood up from where she had been perched trying to reach the others. “I’m not able to get through to them, we must be just out of range. When was the last time anyone heard from them?”

No one said anything. We all just exchanged glances and shrugs. 

“Right, well, what are we all standing here for? Let’s get our asses in gear and go find them.” Nancy demanded. When no one moved, she exclaimed, much louder, “NOW!”

Steve and Eddie bumped into each other and no one missed the blush on Eddie’s cheeks. I even caught Robin making a kissy face towards him, which in turn had Eddie flipping her back the bird. 

“Someone is going to have to sit in someone else’s lap. We don’t have the room.” Steve said scratching the back of his head. 

“That’s fine, I can sit in Y/N’s lap. I’m sure she won’t mind.” Nancy smiled at me, “Right?”

“Yeah, no, yeah, I mean yeah. Absolutely, that’s fine, that’s cool!” The words stumbled out of my mouth. Erica rolled her eyes, while Dustin, Eddie, and Robin smirked. Steve stared at us and then gestured to the car.

I climbed into the back seat next to Robin, who reached over to pat my lap for Nancy. I shoved Robin’s hand away and she gasped and held her arm as if I had hit her. Nancy climbed into the car carefully and situated herself on my lap. My heart began to race and I prayed she wouldn’t be able to tell. I shoved my hands under my legs, not quite sure what to do with them at that moment. 

“Nancy, can you like, lean down, or back, or something? I can’t see through the rearview mirror.” Eddie asked, turning in his seat to stare at us.

A slight blush crept up on Nancy’s face as she turned to look at me, “Would you mind if I -”

“No, yeah, I mean that’s fine, I don’t mind, really.” I cut her off. I could hear Robin exhale through her nose loudly. Nancy began to lean toward me. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until she asked me if I was okay. I caught Steve’s eye from the front seat as he watched us closely. 

Steve and I weren’t extremely close, but it wasn’t hard to tell he was in love with Nancy. We met through Robin after they started working together at Scoops Ahoy. They had become extremely close that summer and Robin would not shut up about him at school the following semester. I was excited she had found another friend, but the feeling of being replaced never quite went away. 

Robin and I have been best friends since Kindergarten. She stole my crayons and in return, I cut off one of her pigtails. My mother was not happy with that stunt, but Robin’s parents had laughed it off and said it was all a part of kids expressing themselves. It took some time but our parents had become close after that and play dates became a regular thing. 

Growing up close, we learned a lot about each other, including our mutual attraction to women. There was an awkward time in our friendship when we had thought maybe we were the ones for each other, but it turned out that wasn’t the case. Thankfully our friendship recovered from the awkward date and kiss we had shared and now it’s an inside joke between the two of us.

Robin introduced me to Steve a week into the new school year. I had been away that summer, visiting with family in another state and when we returned, the mall had burned down. Robin swore she would tell me what happened, but I had to meet her new friends. So, Friday afternoon, I went to the Family Video store to hang out with Robin and meet Steve. 

When I first walked into the store, there was no sign of anyone being in there. I glanced around at the row of movies on shelves, waiting for Robin to pop up from somewhere. There was a loud crash as a bunch of VHSs fell off a shelf a few rows over.

“Aw, come on!” I heard him shout. 

“You should be more careful, dingus.” Robin’s voice sounded out. I walked over to where the commotion was happening. On the floor, picking up VHSs, was Steve. Robin was a few feet away setting up a cardboard cutout to promote a new release. 

“Hi, welcome to Family Video, anything we can help you with?” Steve asked exasperated. He stood up and shoved the VHSs back on the shelf. I noticed that he looked me over, up and down, before a small smile appeared on his face. “I am completely at your disposal to find the right movie for you.”

“Chill out, dingus. This is my friend, Y/N.” Robin said coming over to hug me. “Dingus, Y/N, Y/N, Dingus” She laughed introducing us. 

Steve rolled his eyes at her, his soft smile returning to his face when he glanced back at me. He reached out to shake my hand. “Hi, I’m Steve. Robin’s told me a lot about you, glad to finally meet you.” I shook his hand, noting the smoothness of his skin. 

“You would have a better chance if you were Nancy Wheeler, big guy.” Robin laughed, clapping a hand on Steve’s back. Both of our heads whipped towards her, his with shock, mine with annoyance. “Oh yeah, she’s playing for our team.” 

Steve looked back at me, then back to Robin. “Do you know any straight people?” 

Robin raised an eyebrow at him and smiled maliciously. “Not. A. Single. One.”

“Are you sure this okay?” Nancy asked, pulling me out of the memory. She was sitting sideways on my lap, leaning into me, with her head on my shoulder. I nodded and instinctively, I put an arm around her to hold on to her then immediately pulled it back as if I had been burned. Nancy stilled for a moment, before grabbing my arm and placing it back around her.

“For safety,” she smiled up at me. Steve turned back around in the front seat and Robin gently elbowed me, she had a smirk on her face. I ignored both of them and focused on my beating heart, trying to regulate my breathing. 

Dustin slammed his door and Eddie started the car. Heavy metal blasted at us over the speakers. Erica reached out and switched it off. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“This is the last time I let you drive my car.” Steve said, looking over Erica at Eddie. 

Eddie didn’t seem phased at all as he turned the music back on and up, stuck his tongue out, and held up the rock-on-hand sign. The car lurched forward as he hit the gas, and we were speeding down the road, on our way to the others. ---- Part 2

[elizabetharzanisketchbook]

Sarah made us breakfast burritos, 2023

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Cold Vodka, Warm Hands (N.R.)

Words: 1.6k

The icy wind whipped across my face as I peered through the scope. The frigid metal of the Barrett M82A1 felt comforting in my hands. The cold never bothered me, of course. Due to my pyrokinesis, I had complete control over my own body temperature.

There wasn’t a sound for miles and, somehow, it was both peaceful and unnerving. The snow crunched with any and all movement, so we were staying unbearably still. I slowly scanned the abandoned factory for our target; a Russian arms dealer who was planning on stealing some alien tech and selling it for profit. We were about 1,500 yards from the factory. There’s not much cover out here, so our choice of positions was very limited. The shot would be a difficult one, with the distance and the crosswinds, but this is my specialty. Well, it used to be, before I discovered my ability to manipulate heat and fire. I’m one of SHIELD’s best sharpshooters.

As I checked once more for the target, a chattering noise distracted me from my task. I pulled my face away from my rifle to look at my partner, who was laying next to me, prepared to range the target and gauge the wind. Her lips were turning a shade of purple, and her teeth were chattering from the cold.

“Are you okay, Agent Romanoff?”

“Mhm.”

“Sure. Aren’t you Russian?” She leveled me with a hard glare and I slightly raised my hands in the air and went back to my task.

I noticed some movement through the scope. “Target, 11 o’clock.” 

“Oblique wind from the left, 8 miles per hour,” she called out.

I adjusted the scope accordingly and took the shot. Clean kill. No witnesses. Objective complete. I quickly unloaded the rifle and slung it over my shoulder as Agent Romanoff packed up. To say I was relieved the mission was over would be an understatement; this woman is practically a walking gay panic, and the mission had done nothing to help with my not-so-small crush on her. I risked a glance at her as we walked side by side. She looked freezing. Her right hand was in her pocket, but her left was exposed since one of her holsters blocked the left pocket.

“Is there any particular reason you’re staring at me, Agent y/l/n?” Shit.

“Oh, I- uh, I- um, can I hold your hand?” Her head snapped around to look at me as I realized what I said. “I just mean that, um, you look really cold and I can, you know, warm up your hand, at the very least. With my p-powers.” She didn’t say anything as she blankly stared at me, and I was worried that I had crossed a line until she abruptly stuck out her hand. I stared at the appendage for a second before realizing what she meant. I grabbed her hand in mine and focused on my powers, being careful to not let my hand get too hot.

We walked hand-in-hand the whole way to the safehouse. I could hear her sniffle every once in a while, but I didn’t say anything out of fear of getting punched. As we entered the safehouse, I realized it was more of a shack than anything. The walls were plywood and the whole thing was only one room. The kitchen area had a couple of cabinets and a small gas stove, and there was only one fairly small bed, as well as a small fireplace.

“Huh. This is…”

“Horrible. This is really horrible,” she finished for me. I couldn’t help but notice how nasally her voice sounded. 

I slid the bags off her shoulders and set them down next to mine. She sent me a questioning look as I walked her to the edge of the bed and sat her down. I said nothing as I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Sit here. Don’t move. Please.”

I walked around the room, lighting the oil lanterns. I grabbed some firewood from the pile and stacked it in the fireplace, using my powers to light a fire. I went into the ‘kitchen’ and rummaged through the cupboards. I heated a can of soup in my hands and poured it into a bowl. I found some teabags and heated some water the same way, since it was faster.

I brought the tea and soup over to Natasha, placing them on the stand next to the bed. She made no move to grab either item, too busy looking at me with a bewildered expression.

“What? You need to warm up. You’re already getting sick.”

“Why are you taking care of me?” She asked as I helped her move up against the headboard and under the covers.

I handed her the soup and said, “Well, you’re my partner— on the mission, I mean. It’s my job to protect you...on the mission.”

She hummed and I left to hang up our clothes to dry. I grabbed the second bowl of soup and sat in the bed next to her, as far away as physically possible.

“I don’t bite, you know. You can sit closer. You’re gonna fall off the bed,” she said amusedly.

“Right, sorry. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable, minus the fact that it’s still freezing in here.”

After we finished our soup, we went to bed since there was nothing else for us to do. I was woken up in the middle of the night by Natasha’s fit of sneezing and coughing. I sat up and patted her back as she coughed. That sounded painful. I got out of bed and brought her a roll of toilet paper since there were no tissues. I made her another cup of tea before getting back in bed. I could see her shivering as she sipped the hot beverage, and I had an internal debate with myself. Before I could chicken out, I slid closer to her and wrapped my arms around her, focusing on my powers.

“What are you doing?” She asked through her chattering teeth.

“Warming you up,” I replied simply.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.” She stopped protesting after that and continued drinking her tea. Once she was done, she set it on the stand. She snuggled further into my arms and we moved to lay down. I felt her breathing even out as her muscles relaxed. I fought off the exhaustion; if I fell asleep, my body would return to its normal temperature. I tried not to freak out at the feeling of having in her arms, knowing that after this mission, we’d go back to being just teammates.

Morning rolled around and I watched the sky lighten through the only window in the safe house. I hadn’t left the bed all night, aside from the two times I added wood to the fire. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Natasha stirred in my arms.

“Morning,” she rasped out. Oh my god, her morning voice is gonna be the death of me.

“Uh, morning,” I replied, clearing my throat. She sat up and looked over my face, suddenly making me very self-conscious.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uh, no, not really. I stayed awake to keep my body warm for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that, y/n.”

“No, it’s— I didn’t mind. Do you feel any better?”

“Well, I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. It’s still cold as hell, though. You know what I really need?”

“What?”

“Some nice, cold vodka,” she said with a small, genuine smile.

“Oh! I have some of that!”

“You brought vodka on a mission?” She raised an eyebrow as her lips curved into a smirk.

“Yes— no, well, kind of. I bought it on the way here. Nothing like Russian vodka, right?”

I walked over to my duffel bag and pulled out the bottle of vodka. I grabbed two mugs from the kitchen, as well as a package of crackers. I slid back into the bed and she raised an eyebrow at the crackers.

“What? I’m not letting you drink vodka on an empty stomach. I don’t wanna get puked on,” I said with a joking grimace, although I really didn’t want to get puked on. 

She laughed as she poured some vodka into the mugs. I opened the crackers and set the package on the bed, and she handed me one of the mugs.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” I said, then we clinked the mugs together and I grimaced at the burn.

“Ugh, why does it have to be so cold? Can we just stay in bed?” That is definitely the closest Natasha Romanoff has ever gotten to whining, and it was adorable.

“Well, our extraction isn’t until this afternoon, so yeah, for a while.” She pushed herself back into my body, and I wrapped my arms around her after recovering from the brief shock.

Three hours later, we were packing up and getting ready to hike to the extraction point. I put out all of the lanterns before leaving the safe house. Natasha stuck out her hand and I wrapped it in mine without hesitation. It wasn’t all that cold out anymore, but I didn’t say anything about it. We made it to the extraction point in about thirty minutes, her hand never dropping mine. The SHIELD jet came into view and landed in the clearing in front of us. I couldn’t stop the twinge of sadness at the fact that we were leaving. It was selfish, but I loved taking care of Natasha these past two days.

As the gate of the jet dropped, Natasha spoke in a sultry voice, “Thank you, Y/N, for keeping me warm.” She kissed my crimson cheek before sauntering onto the jet. I snapped out of my daze and followed her, trying and failing to keep my composure.

[morganarchived]

an absolute list of films i’d like to watch (so far)

thanks to the Letterboxd community for always recommending the most unhinged pieces ever

Gummo, Harmony Korine (1997)

Hard Candy, David Slade (2005)

House, Nobuhiko Obayashi (1977)

Ichi the Killer, Takashi Miike (2001)

Kids, Larry Clark (1995)

Léon: The Professional, Luc Besson (1994)

Oldboy, Park Chan-wook (2003)

Once Upon a Time in America, Sergio Leone, (1984)

Fantastic Planet, René Laloux (1973)

Punch Drunk-Love, Paul Thomas Anderson (2002)

[REC], Jaume Balagueró & Paco Plaza (2007)

The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Jim Sharman (1975)

Shock Treatment, Jim Sharman (1981)

Sleepaway Camp, Robert Hiltzik (1983)

The Warriors, Walter Hill (1979)

Videodrome, David Cronenberg (1983)

Taxi Driver, Martin Scorsese (1976)

The Ninth Configuration, William Peter Blatty (1980)

Flowers for Algernon, Jeff Bleckner (2000)

Mona Lisa, Neil Jordan (1986)

The Machinist, Brad Anderson (2004)

Miller’s Crossing, Joel Coen (1990)

Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola (1979)

The Farewell, Lulu Wang (2019)

Trash Humpers, Harmony Korine (2009)

Pixote, Héctor Babenco (1980)

Julien Donkey-Boy, Harmony Korine (1999)

Last Night, Don McKellar (1998)

Duck Butter, Miguel Arteta (2018)

Stalker, Andrei Tarkovsky (1979)

The Pianist, Roman Polanski (2002)

Reservoir Dogs, Quentin Tarantino (1992)

Blue Velvet, David Lynch (1986)

At Eternity’s Gate, Julian Schnabel (2018)

Birdman, Alejandro González Iñárritu (2014)

Climax, Gaspar Noé (2018)

Shirkers, Sandi Tan (2018)

A Ghost Story, David Lowery (2017)

Carol, Todd Haynes (2015)

Lupin the Third: The Castle of Cagliostro, Hayao Miyazaki (1979)

Baby Driver, Edgar Wright (2017)

The Revenant, Alejandro González Iñárritu (2015)

She’s Gotta Have It, Spike Lee (1986)

I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore, Macon Blair (2017)

It Comes at Night, Trey Edward Shults (2017)

Buster’s Mal Heart, Sarah Adina Smith (2016)

Cam, Daniel Goldhaber (2018)

Struggle: The Life and Lost Art of Szukalski, Irek Dobrowolski (2018)

I Think We’re Alone Now, Reed Morano (2018)

Skins, Eduardo Casanova (2017)

The Fundamentals of Caring, Rob Burnett (2016)

About Time, Richard Curtis (2013)

The Bad Batch, Ana Lily Amirpour (2016)

The Highwaymen, John Lee Hancock (2019)

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, Martin McDonagh (2017)

Natural Born Killers, Oliver Stone (1994)

XX, Karyn Kusama & Jovanka Vuckovic & Roxanne Benjamin & St. Vincent (2017)

Cargo, Ben Howling & Yolanda Ramke (2017)

Residue, Alex Garcia Lopez (2015)

Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold, Griffin Dunne (2017)

Joshua: Teenager vs. Superpower, Joe Piscatella (2017)

Chasing Trane, John Scheinfeld (2016)

Tallulah, Siân Heder (2016)

Expedition Happiness, Felix Starck & Selima Taibi (2017)

Bottom of the World, Richard Sears (2017)

Super Dark Times, Kevin Phillips (2017)

Notes on Blindness, Pete Middleton & James Spinney (2016)

Newness, Drake Doremus (2017)

ReMastered: The Two Killings of Sam Cooke, Kelly Duane de la Vega (2019)

Paddleton, Alexandre Lehmann (2019)

Juanita, Clark Johnson (2019)

Temple, Michael Barrett (2017)

Maya Angelou: And Still I Rise, Bob Hercules & Rita Coburn Whack (2016)

P, Paul Spurrier (2005)

I Am Happiness on Earth, Julián Hernández (2014)

Carrie Pilby, Susan Johnson (2016)

Belief: The Possession of Janet Moses, David Stubbs (2015)

I Called Him Morgan, Kasper Collin (2016)

A Family Affair, Tom Fassaert (2015)

Q, Sanjeev Gupta (2017)

Boyhood, Richard Linklater (2014)

Thelma & Louise, Ridley Scott (1991)

Brick, Rian Johnson (2005)

The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson (2001)

Moonlight, Barry Jenkins (2016)

Mulholland Drive, David Lynch (2001)

Solaris, Andrei Tarkovsky (1972)

Lake Mungo, Joel Anderson (2008)

War of the Worlds, Steven Spielberg (2005)

Tetsuo: The Iron Man, Shinya Tsukamoto (1989)

Mady, Panos Cosmatos (2018)

Raw, Julia Ducournau (2016)

The Neon Demon, Nicolas Winding Refn (2016)

The Love Witch, Anna Biller (2016)

Tusk, Kevin Smith (2014)

Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky (2010)

A Serbian Film, Srđan Spasojević (2010)

Antichrist, Lars von Trier (2009)

Paprika, Satoshi Kon (2006)

Audition, Takashi Miike (1999)

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Terry Gilliam (1998)

Perfect Blue, Satoshi Kon (1997)

Suspiria, Dario Argento (1977)

Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom, Pier Paolo Pasolini (1975)

Irreversible, Gaspar Noé (2002)

Teeth, Mitchell Lichtenstein (2007)

Guinea Pig 2: Flower of Flesh and Blood, Hideshi Hino (1985)

I Stand Alone, Gaspar Noé (1998)

Begotten, E. Elias Merhige (1989)

Dekalog, Krzysztof Kieślowski (1989)

Dancer in the Dark, Lars von Trier (2000)

Shoplifters, Hirokazu Kore-eda (2018)

Honey Boy, Alma Har’el (2019)

The Inner Scar, Philippe Garrel (1972)

The Handmaiden, Park Chan-wook (2016)

Funny Games, Michael Haneke (1997)

$9.99, Tatia Rosenthal (2008)

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, Ana Lily Amirpour (2014)

In The Mood for Love, Wong Kar-wai (2000)

Stranger Than Paradise, Jim Jarmusch (1984)

Quadrophenia, Franc Roddam (1979)

Blow-Up, Michaelangelo Antonioni (1966)

Do the Right Thing, Spike Lee (1989)

Christiane F., Uli Edel (1981)

Grey Gardens, Albert Maysles & David Maysles & Muffie Meyer & Ellen Hovde (1975)

The Tribe, Myroslav Slaboshpytskyi (2014)

Uncut Gems, Josh Safdie & Benny Safdie (2019)

Persona, Ingmar Bergman (1966)

Wild Strawberries, Ingmar Bergman (1957)

The Silence, Ingmar Bergman (1963)

Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Céline Sciamma (2019)

The Lighthouse, Robert Eggers (2019)

Promising Young Woman, Emerald Fennell (2020)

The Human Condition III: A Soldier’s Prayer, Masaki Kobayashi (1961)

As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty, Jonas Mekas (2000)

X, Ti West (2022)

Everything Everywhere All at Once, Daniel Scheinert & Daniel Kwan (2022)

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, Tom Gormican (2022)

The Conversation, Francis Ford Coppola (1974)

Sufjan Stevens: Carrie & Lowell Live, Aaron Craig & Alex Craig (2017)

La Haine, Mathieu Kassovitz (1995)

My Life as a Zucchini, Claude Barras (2016)

The Wolf House, Cristóbal León & Joaquín Cociña (2018)

Come and See, Elem Klimov (1985)

Noisy Requiem, Yoshihiko Matsui (1988)

Eyes Without a Face, Georges Franju (1960)

Angel’s Egg, Mamoru Oshii (1985)

Dogville, Lars von Trier (2003)

Pink Flamingos, John Waters (1972)

Are you lost in the world like me?, Steve Cutts (2016)

[greenninjagal-blog]

Thief

Can you imagine what type of world domination I could accomplish if I could just manage my time effectively????

Anyway have a quick oneshot :3 It was a writing exercise for my class that I made for you guys

Summary: Virgil is an art inspector but this particular case is not going to go the way he expects it to at all. 

Word count: 2913

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws 

Read on Ao3 || My general Writing Masterlist

The outside of the manor was intimidating enough, Virgil thought. The gong sounding doorbell was absolutely not necessary. His heart was racing in his chest, as it had been since two days ago when his boss had sent him an email about this particular verification, on this particular day, at this particular time, for this particular woman as a personal favor. Virgil had dressed up in his best suit and still felt like he was showing up naked compared to the shiny metal gates, the maple wood tree tunnel, the rose bushes, and the gold door knobs on the front double doors.

It was a maid that answered the door, who didn’t meet his eyes or ask him any questions or immediately send him away for daring to breathe in the same vicinity as the manor on the hill. She must have been told he was coming, because Virgil had noticed the lovely security system outside the front gates he had to be buzzed through and the cameras hidden between the branches of the trees and doubted that the Blackwell widow would allow just anyone to wonder up to her palace for a look around. He bet that there were bars on the slit windows around back and window sensors on the larger one’s up high and probably a laser light grid inside like a heist movie.

There wasn’t a speck of dust inside; Virgil felt like he was tracking dirt in with himself and the maid was silently urgently pressing him to keep up with her so that she could finish this task and go back to clean up it. Still, he couldn’t help how his eyes tracked the glimpses from the other rooms, marveling at the wealth: a China cabinet with gold plated dishes, porcelain dolls on shelves never to be played with… there was a grand piano in one of the rooms that probably had never been used.

And then there was the room that the maid led him to, that nearly stopped Virgil cold in his tracks.

There were vases on stands around the room tastefully setting the mood as worth more than anything Virgil could ever afford, two different Fabergé eggs on shelves that glistened in the mid-morning sun to make a kaleidoscope of colors over the room, paintings that Virgil recognized from upcoming artists and pricy ones from in house auctions that were invite only. The old, beat-up sports watch on his wrist suddenly felt ridiculous and he gently tugged on his suit jacket sleeve to cover it up.

In the middle of all, of it the Blackwell widow stood in a black skirt and a pink blouse and diamond necklace, looking for all intents and purposes as if she belonged amidst the flashy show of wealth, which well… it was her property, so she did. If he hadn’t already felt like he was out of place entering the opulent building, he was downright embarrassed to be standing in front of her. Her blond hair was twisted back out of her face, pinned back with a barrette that sparkled in in the light, and she walked towards him with a gliding grace that only came from having been born part goddess.

“Ah, you must be the man Roger told me about,” she said, dismissing the maid with a barely a wave with a rose-red smile that matched the shade of her nails. Her voice wasn’t loud—in fact it was pretty quiet, and Virgil had to concentrate to list to it, amidst his wondering mind and gaze to the dozens of other shiny impressive things in just this public part of the manor on the hill. “Brager, correct? I’m Eliza Blackwell. Thank you for coming on such a short notice.”

“Of course,” Virgil said, awkwardly. “Uh, Mr. Campbell said you urgently needed me to look over a painting?”

“Of course.” She smiled at him, filled with charming politeness, but Virgil was surrounded by enough glittering objects to recognize when the sparkle in her eyes was fake. She waved a hand towards the doorway back to another hall and Virgil hesitantly followed her. “It’s in the study. I’ll have the maid fetch us some tea—”

“It’s okay, actually,” Virgil said. “I’m not a tea drinker.”

“Coffee, then.”

“Mrs. Blackwell, I’d truly rather just look over your painting, if you don’t mind.”

She hummed in acceptance and Virgil let out a soft breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The study was…less impressive than the rest of the building. Virgil wouldn’t have even expected it was part of the same building if he hadn’t been led there: the shelves were floor to ceiling adorned with books of all types, and a slight layer of dust over even the ones closest to the front of the room. There was a locked cabinet that contained rare novels, but the key was missing, and the glass was in sore need of a cleaning. Mrs. Blackwell led him to a desk where the painting was resting waiting for him, and then she settled herself into a chair a good six feet away.

At first glance, he could tell the paint was the same composition for the time period at least; the hues had faded the way he would expect them to based on the exposure of the room. The strokes were the style that Antonio Acosta was known for, which Virgil had spent the past two days studying himself, and the signature in the corner was missing the “s” and the “t” crossed over to become the bridge of the “A”. He slipped on his nylon gloves, only vaguely aware of the maid that had silently delivered Mrs. Blackwell a cup of tea, as he focused on the painting.

The angle of the brush strokes was important, but it was usually the thickness of the paint to the composition itself that tripped forgers up. From a distant perspective the rowboat in a storm wasn’t horribly original, but there were a hundred twenty-seven individual rain drops painted on it, and each of them had been done the care and time and gentleness of a lover of art. How many artists had Virgil studied who made art and didn’t love it? It was beautiful.

It had been the sound of a teaspoon tapping the edge of a teacup that yanked him unceremoniously from his focus, shattering the soft appreciation that he’d gotten lost in.

Mrs. Blackwell hummed. “I’m sure you’ve read the papers, Mr. Brager.”

“It’s doctor, actually,” Virgil said, tilting the painting to observe the light angle on the hues of the paint.

“Dr. Brager,” she said less like she was correcting herself and more like she was humoring him. “This particular Acosta has been in my family for several generations. My late husband loved it very dearly, even though he was under the assumption it was a fake. But now that awful property lawsuit has been brought up about it.”

Virgil had glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, getting a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew there was a claim that an Acosta had been gifted via will to a family friend whose name he’d forgotten decades ago, but the day of the will reading, it had gone missing from the artist’s collection. The police hadn’t been able to track down the culprits and since no one had been harmed in the crime, it had fallen to the wayside. The family had been trying to find it with the help of private investigators or something like that. At the current art economy, Virgil had to assume the going rate for this type of painting was in the three hundred thousands.

“Mrs. Blackwell,” Virgil said in his best attempt at a normal, relaxed, and reasonable voice. He was holding an Acosta right now. She was talking about a lawsuit. “Do you believe this is a forgery?”

“Your suit is out of style, Dr. Brager,” she said stirring her tea. “Surely, you would like a new one. I know a tailor who would love to find a match to your complexion. He doesn’t get to work with people from your tax bracket very often.”

Virgil placed the painting on the table gently. Her teacup was hand painted, with a gold trim and it matched the saucer, sugar bowl and tea pot, but his eyes were drawn to a nondescript envelope on the table next to her hand that was practically bulging with green bills. Virgil thought, traitorously, that even if it was all one-dollar bills, it would be enough to set him for a few weeks.

“Of course,” Mrs. Blackwell said, “I understand if suits are not to your interest. It would be a shame, of course. I had a lovely conversation with your boss, Dr. Brager. Roger is a close friend of mine and he recommended you, personally, for verifying this piece. He mentioned you were one of the youngest on his payroll. Quite a feat. I would hate for you to lose your job due to some unfortunate...inexperience. That type of thing could ruin a career, especially at your age.”

“Are you…. Is this a threat?” Virgil asked.

“You’re a smart boy, Dr Brager.” She took a sip of her tea. “Why don’t you tell me if that piece is a real or not?”

“I’m not going to lie in front of a jury!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, young man. The premise for this case is already so flimsy if you say it’s a forgery, no judge will bother accepting this case. It will fade away and you’ll never be bothered about it again. Truly, I can’t think of a reason you would want to say anything else.”

“That’s….” Virgil blew a breath out of his nose and thought of the dozens of other priceless items he’d seen on the way in. “How many other things in this manor are stolen?”

She taps her teaspoon on her cup again, the polite smile gone, and a very serious expression in its place. “Dr. Brager, you might want to watch your tone.”

“This doesn’t belong to you! You stole it!”

Mrs. Blackwell placed down her spoon entirely, and Virgil’s heart froze in his chest, beating heavily as her dark gaze pinned him to the desk almost like a real physical force. He remembered the rumors suddenly: how Mrs. Blackwell had been married twice before she’d ever met the late Mr. Blackwell, how mysteriously and quickly Mr. Blackwell had passed away from an illness he had only really showed symptoms of the day prior, how they had the best doctors on their payroll and still Mr. Blackwell was buried in the family graveyard.

He started to think that, maybe, those weren’t entirely rumors at all.

He started to think that, maybe, all the glittering pieces in the rest of the house were meant to distract from the more deadly person living among them.

“I think—” Mrs. Blackwell said, “—you should choose your next words carefully, Dr. Brager.”

Before he could figure out if he was going to ever see the sun again, there was a scuffle on the other side of the closed door, that had both Mrs. Blackwell and himself whipping towards it.  

“—not tell me where I can and cannot go in my own house!” a stern voice snapped out, and both of the oak doors sprung open with a surprising force, revealing a young man at about Virgil’s age, dressed in black slacks and a pale-yellow button up, and a scowl on his face that gave Mrs. Blackwell a run for her entire manor of stolen possessions. Behind him was the maid, fluttering in a panicky energy at his elbow the exact way that Virgil felt.

“I’m sorry, Madam!” the woman rushed out as soon as she could. “He showed up so suddenly and wouldn’t wai—”

“Janus,” Mrs. Blackwell said shifting in her seat. “What do you think you are doing here?”

“I’m collecting my items, which you seem to forget include everything in this study, where you have no right to be conducting business, Mother,” the man said, just short of snarling. Virgil pressed back from the two of them digging his hands into the edge of desk to keep his knees from buckling under him. Unfortunately, even that slight motion drew the vibrant green eyes of the man, whom Virgil could guess was probably Janus Blackwell, the heir to the Blackwell fortune, among other more tabloid-related virtues. “Are you blackmailing people at my desk?! And is that the Acosta I told you not to touch?!”

“Janus, you are making a scene.”

“I will be making much more than a scene,” Janus said. “That painting has never belonged to us and you don’t even like it. The only reason you don’t want to hand it over is because you’re concerned about our family’s reputation, which mind you is already on a downward spiral when you pulled funding from the charities I’ve been giving to for years to funnel into the campaign to the senator that supports racial genocide.”

“It’s hardly genocide—“

That was hardly the most comforting statement, and Janus entertained that turn of the conversation no more than he entertained the idea of waiting outside the room for the meeting between Virgil and his mother to be over: in a smooth movement Janus turned towards Virgil with a furious expression, pulled out a wallet from his back pocket, and threw the whole thing at him. Virgil yelped catching it if only to make sure it didn’t hit the painting behind him.

“Are you insane—!"

“Everything in that is yours if you agree to tell testify that the painting is real,” Janus said and Virgil almost dropped the wallet on reflex.

“Janus!” Mrs. Blackwell snapped harshly, standing up so suddenly that her precious hand painted teacup and the envelope filled with money both tumbled to the floor.

Janus didn’t even turn to look at her.

Virgil was pretty sure his hands were shaking, that his lungs were collapsing in his chest, that he tripped on the way up the stairs to the gold knobbed front doors and hit his head and he was hallucinating everything that was going on right now. The leather wallet in his hands was well kept and engraved with Janus Blackwell along the trim. It, alone, was probably worth more than Virgil’s suit and the knowledge made the floor under him sway.

“Well?” Janus said, impatiently. “Do we have a deal?”

Virgil didn’t exactly think of himself as being impulsive, and definitely not the type to do things without marginally thinking them through. But at that moment, holding the wallet filled him with the type of confidence that only insanely rich people who steal paintings and threaten people have, and he glanced past Janus to his mother (whose face was melding between pale, pink, red, and purple like a watercolor sunset).

“Deal,” Virgil said, grinning at her.

“Out!” Mrs. Blackwell shouted. “Both of you. Out of my house!”

Janus, for his part, was very quick on the uptake, practically gleeful at Virgil’s bold and stupid statement, but it was contagious enough that it had Virgil smiling too. Virgil practically tripped over his own feet catching up with Janus in the hallway, his ears ringing with Mrs. Blackwell’s screech. The maid followed after him, shooing him off like a plague and once they were both dumped on the doorstep, she slammed the front doors closed.

Janus was laughing as if this was the best moment of his entire life. Virgil was shaking, and he wasn’t sure all of it was adrenalin in his body. There was a strange feeling in his throat: something between excitement and utter terror about the future. He glanced down at his hands, where the wallet was clenched tightly in his fingers. He opened it and the good buzzing feeling in his veins evaporated immediately.

“This…,” Virgil said. “This is empty.”

“Ah,” Janus said, grin starting to fade back to the serious expression from before. “I supposed this is the moment where I admit I am actually broke. Disowned, really. My mother hasn’t been a fan of me since my father passed, regretfully.”

Virgil stared at him, mouth shamelessly gaping, and he felt faintly like he was going to be sick. “I think you just cost me my job.”

“Would you like an apology?”

“I would like to be able to pay this month’s rent!”

Janus hummed, consideringly. Virgil resisted the urge to stuff the empty wallet down his throat, barely. Instead, he started down the stairs away from the mansion.

“Hey!” Janus called after him. “Where do you live?”

“Why? So, you can get me evicted today, too?!”

“Well, if it’s on the nicer side of town I might consider becoming a roommate to help with that rent. I’m told I’m excellent to live with.”

“Unbelievable,” Virgil said. “You do realize you just told me you were broke.”

Janus gave him a glittering smile—something that matched the interior of the house they were standing in front of. Virgil thought that if he looked even a smidge like his father than he might have understood why Mrs. Blackwell probably killed her husband.

“Relax, Dr. Brager,” Janus said, flicking his hand to reveal a familiar bulging envelope from his sleeve like a party trick. “I think everything will work out just fine for us.”

[Continuation :D]

[gisachi]

Better late than never?? Supposed to post on the day itself but of course I couldn’t. This is my rushed contribution to the prompt: domestic mixed with black knight&princess.

ShinRan Week Day 6

Prompt: Domestic (+ Black Knight&Princess)

Words: ~2.5k

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“Not just once, but twice! Who was it that saved my life again? Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what, uh, the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrow- sorrowful? - face under this moonlight. Oh wow this is cheesy.”

Ran leans on the arm of the couch, bound script covering her resigned face. If she had a hundred yen for every single complaint coming out of this detective’s mouth, she’d have enough to buy two entrance passes to Tropical Land for each day of the week, plus snacks and drinks.

“I went here because I thought you’d be a more immersive practice partner than ‘tou-san. You are worse.”

“I’m sorry, princess, if my mom being an actress ruined your expectations of me.”

“Oh, for sure. And otou-san doesn't destroy the scene by dropping nonsensical comments. And lie on the couch while reading the script. So he’s better by a lot.”

Shinichi props his body up, eyes rolling sarcastically before throwing a look at the lady on the edge. “To be fair, you came barging into my house so early on a Sunday. This is justified.”

“Shinichi, eleven in the morning isn’t early.”

With a stubborn grumble, the detective flops back into the cushions, script on his lap sliding to the floor. “ ’M tired Ran, long case last night, let me sleep.”

“Please, you’re my last option! School festival is in less than two weeks, and I can’t possibly ask Araide-sensei to spare time on a weekend outside of our rehearsal schedule when he’s busy working—”

The lightning speed Shinichi jolts upright causes Ran to cut herself short. “Araide-sensei is the cloaked knight?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Really? I-” she pauses, delayed in taking in the curt iciness of his response when he was so apathetic five seconds ago. On anyone else it’s clear what that tone implies, but she’s never heard it on him.

“Do you have a beef with Araide-sensei?” she asks.

“A beef?”

Ran arches an eyebrow, skeptic. Shinichi meets her gaze, eyes slightly thinning before glancing away, cheeks crimson.

“I mean— Why Araide-sensei? Shouldn’t he be busy, I dunno, being a doctor, than being a fictional knight or something.”

“All the guys in our class were too shy and declined, so Sonoko asked Araide-sensei when he happened to come in for a checkup. He agreed so easily! Would you believe he’d taken a lot of lead roles in plays when he was a student?”

“And that was fifteen something years ago.”

“He’s also good at things like emphasizing lines and handling a woman!”

“Anyone can- What?!”

“Stop being a sourpuss Shinichi, especially when you’re the first to decline.”

He looks at her quizzically. “I did?”

“You don’t even remember?” Amidst the faint pink on her cheeks, disappointment etched on the way Ran’s lips curve to a small pout. “You were the first Sonoko asked... You were so quick to turn her down, she said.”

Astounded by the revelations docking in his brain all at once, Shinichi struggles to recall the conversations he had exchanged with Sonoko the past weeks. None stands out. If she had included Ran’s name in there, he would remember instantly. But Sonoko didn’t. Suddenly, the floodgates in his mind open.

If he finds out later on about the plot and the cast, he’ll definitely find a reason or two to sulk, if not object. Whether Ran is partnered with someone else or Araide-sensei doesn’t matter, for as long as it isn’t him. Him who she’s positive would outright reject her offer to act as a prince because why would he? In any case, god knows Sonoko omitted Ran’s name on purpose for this.

The sly woman has stirred something up, and she will proudly take the front row seat on his reaction she was so sure he’d make.

Not saying Sonoko’s predictions are right. This is just how she thinks. And he won’t react the way she expects he will. She is not right.

Not. Right.

Sonoko, yaro...

“Stand up, let’s do this.”

“Huh?”

“You want immersive? I’ll give you immersive.”

Left with little time to process as Shinichi pulls her by the hand, Ran drops her script on the floor. The sudden shift in character is unbelievable. How can someone so sleep-deprived turn into someone this enthused in a span of a breath?

“But first, let me…” He leaves the room, and Ran picks up her script, still quite lost. Whatever she said earlier must have triggered something, and she’s torn if she’ll ask once he returns but considers the possibility that he may break character. Not gonna risk that. He said he’ll give her an immersive practice, and it’s oddly unexpected, but she’ll take it. This is good. After all, she needs him as the knight.

Wants him as the knight.

“Sheesh, Ran, stop…” Shying away from her own maidenly thoughts, Ran flips to the designated page, scene, and line, rehearsing as she waits.

Some minutes later, Shinichi reappears, holding his script and something else. Of all things she would expect him to own, a blue fancy Columbina mask adorned with elegant silver and royal patterns wasn’t one of them.

“Mom has these things, okay,” he explains, putting it on. Ran isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or tease, but she does neither when she gets a glimpse of him with half of his face covered, and she catches her breath at the sight.

Standing against silk red curtains and brilliant glow of afternoon sunlight, he really does seem like a mysterious knight…

“Don’t laugh, idiot. After doing this for you. Wear this,” he says, and Ran zeroes in on the line of his lips because she has nowhere else to look at as he places a small barrette tiara on her hair. Doesn’t matter what he says, what they wear, even if they fail to match the daintiness of the mask and tiara. Shinichi with this on makes Shinichi as the knight much more vivid now. And Ran as the princess...

“Sorry!” She claps a hand on her warming cheek, pulls back a dumb smile she doesn’t notice she is wearing. “And I— I wasn’t laughing!”

“Still smiling creepily though.”

“I wasn’t being creepy! Geez. Anyway! Page-”

“Page 27, Scene 8, Line 10. Got it.”

After some short blocking instructions, they drop their scripts on the couch, and begin.

“Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrowful face under this moonlight.”

Two steps forward and he removes the mask, and time slows down. She’s seen the same face a million times yet this time, her heart leaps like she’s laid eyes upon the most handsome face in the universe.

“Might—Might you be Spade?” She carries on, taking everything she can to maintain composure. “Long ago, you were banned from this land by my father… but now you’ve become the prince of Trump Kingdom...”

It’s nerve wracking, the way he’s strikingly still, eyes laden on her, either waiting for her next lines or admiring how beautiful she is with the tiara, she isn’t quite sure. The mask is gone, but he isn’t breaking character. Meanwhile, she’s trying her darned best to stay as Princess Heart of Bridge Kingdom.

“If you have… not forgotten about our childhood promise, then please…”

A nervous lump forms in her throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and his hands find her waist, and she nearly gasps but holds it in because right now, she’s Princess Heart, not Mouri Ran asking this of Kudou Shinichi. “Please, show me on these lips.”

“As my princess so desires...”

It should be ‘the’, not ‘my.’ And there’s supposed to be another line after that, but nothing stops him as he leans in ahead of time and her eyelids flutter to the erratic beat of her heart. It’s better to be partnered with Araide-sensei in this after all. He will not mess up his lines, and she will not lose her mind the way she’s losing it now.

Two parted lips are a pucker away when the doorbell chimes, making both jolt.

Ran is first to snap out of character, as if she hasn’t had the urge to earlier.

“That—That must be Sonoko. I forgot to tell you...  I invited her in.”

“Oh, great,” Shinichi says.

Forcing her limbs into working order, Ran disentangles slowly, drawing a distance. Shinichi glances at the mask in his hand, then at her, before tossing it to the couch and turning for the door. From the window, she watches him walk to the front gate, scratching the back of his head in an annoyed manner like she just woke him from sleep, but grumpier. She hasn’t seen him display much emotion on a Sunday noon the way she’s seeing him now.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered him, she sighs, her turn to slump onto the couch this time.

-

“As I was saying, the prod already scouted the finest material for the costumes, and I decided, pink suits Princess Heart— Hello? Are you listening?”

Ran nearly drops the knife she holds if not for her inhuman reflexes. “Of course! Princess Heart in pink! Yes.” Like nothing happened, she resumes slathering jam and butter on the toast she’s preparing for the three of them. She doesn’t need to look at her side to know Sonoko’s eyeing her from head to toe.

“What happened to her?” The woman turns to Shinichi who sits at the high stool by the kitchen island.

“Dunno,” he says, sounding as noncommittal as he probably appears. Her back is turned against him, but she can see his face, and god why is she blushing?

“I just helped her rehearse. For the play,” he adds.

“Oh?” Sonoko’s brow perks up her forehead, hair whipping as she turns between her and the boy across them. “Did you?”

“Yup. Page 27.”

The dramatic gasp that tears from their friend’s throat is exactly the kind of gasp they expected; even so, Ran still flinches as Shinichi’s stool rakes the floor. “You kissed and I didn’t see?!”

“Hah?!”

“No!”

The two yelp in unison.

“That’s sly! You have to do it again! I’ll judge.”

“Excuse you! It didn’t happen, what you’re thinking!”

“Sonokooo!”

“Oh, shush, Ran, this is good practice. Good practice.”

“But—”

“Relax, rehearsal is rehearsal! In the actual play, once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job—”

“I’m going to the toilet,” Shinichi gets off the stool, jaw stiff, out of the kitchen.

“—with a hug than a kiss. Right?” Sonoko ends, once Shinichi is out of the room.

“What?” Ran’s expression is inscrutable as she faces Sonoko completely, the flush across her face befitting embarrassment or ire. “You’re losing me here!”

“Oh, you’re not going to kiss, Ran. The lights will dim before your lips touch.”

“Then why—” she puts down the bread and walks in haste to the island to flip through the script, “Wh— That’s not in here!”

“Sonoko-sama hereby deems the script revised now that we have Araide-sensei.”

“Eh...?!” Ran cannot explain the play of her reactions. On one hand, a cloud is cleared from her mind, having to worry no more about doing something she has no experience with in front of watchful eyes. On the other, bunch of half-formed thoughts whirl through her mind that goes, Shinichi and I almost kissed for nothing, for nothing we almost k-kissed, an almost kiss with Shinichi, almost—

“That won’t do! I mean— That’s so not you! T-To choose a hug over a...”

“Duh, Ran! Even if it’s just a play, I won’t enable a kiss scene between a student and a staff member. We can fake the kiss. That, or switch to hug. Or better yet, change the male lead.”

“Change the male lead? In two weeks? Who will agree?!”

“Easy.” Just in time, Shinichi returns, hands in pocket and long face worn all the way to the stool.  “I know someone who will.”

-

‘Once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job…’ What? Kissing Ran? Shinichi wants to puke. Sonoko needs to think things through. If this is part of her plan, it’s unacceptable, it sucks.

There’s no way, no way anyone can do a better job kissing Ran than…

“Aaaargh, what are you thinking!” He ruffles his hair in dismay, curses here and there. He only wanted to help Ran yet he almost went for it. Not as Spade but as himself. The audacity. It’s part of the script, sure, but—

If it is part of the script, then have Ran and Araide-sensei rehearsed it before?

“That’s it,” Shinichi huffs, storming out of the bathroom. If this is the kind of reaction Sonoko wants from him, she’s in for a show. Not just a show but a lifetime of curses and mental stabs. For her to go this far is unbelievable. Did Ran even agree to that? Will such a scene really happen in the play? No matter how despicable Sonoko’s methods are, he has faith she respects Ran’s preference as the female lead. No offense against Araide-sensei, but he cannot take Ran’s first kiss, whether as Spade or not.

That is not to say he knows Ran’s preference, especially when it comes to a first kiss, but… it’s not... Araide-sensei... is it?!

He cannot ascertain, not when Ran did nothing when they were about to kiss…

Okay, halt there, self. I said immersive. That’s immersive. She was acting.

All was but an act. She’s a great actress. I suck. No need to make this a big deal.

Shinichi is a pitiful mess once he’s back in the kitchen.

“My offer still stands, you know.” Sonoko sits beside him, munching a toast, while Ran is busy returning the jam in the cupboard, back against them.

“Your offer?”

Shinichi glances at Ran, then at Sonoko, with that feral grin on her lips and Shinichi does a bad job looking pissed, and it’s maddening because he is pissed, just not obvious with the blush forming across his cheek.

Reprimanding Sonoko is what he intends to do. For doing him dirty, him and Ran dirty, for dragging a staff to be the male lead, for imploring Ran to give her first kiss she’s probably saving in a different setting. All invalid reasons, when he cared less about the play before. He’s a full-time idiot, and Sonoko knows it clearly that’s why she’s offering the role again. He doesn’t want to fall into her trap, the same way he doesn’t want anyone else to be Spade when Princess Heart is Ran.

But Ran looks over her shoulder and they accidentally lock eyes, and pink blooms across her cheeks before she turns around, and suddenly the words that leave his mouth completely betray the thought process he underwent in the bathroom.

“If Ran agrees, yeah,” he says.

.

.

[tcm]

Don’t Let the Subtitles Scare You: The History of the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar By Raquel Stecher

The Academy Awards has a long and complicated history of recognizing international films. The Best Foreign Language Film category, now the Best International Feature Film, was an attempt to rectify this and give international filmmakers, with films in languages other than English, an opportunity to earn the coveted Oscar statuette.

It all started with Conrad Nagel. He was one of the founding members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS). When he and 35 fellow members of the film industry convened at the Ambassador Hotel in 1927 to discuss the path forward for the organization, Nagel suggested that “International” be included in the title. According to writer Michael S. Barrett, “he was persuaded to drop the International and for many years AMPAS appeared specifically dedicated to American films.”

Prior to 1957, foreign language films struggled to get noticed by the Academy. Jean Renoir’s GRAND ILLUSION (’37) was the first international film nominated for Best Picture. Other films were recognized in categories such as Best Writing and Best Art Direction, but these instances were few and far between. Then came WWII, which had a major impact on international filmmaking. Barrett writes, “out of the ashes of war came a crop of innovative filmmakers champing at the bit to do something creative and useful, and this was shown in the new styles of moviemaking under which they labored, fervently promoted and eventually attained undying fame.” American audiences were drawn to Italian Neorealism, Japanese Jidaigeki and later the French New Wave as exciting and new forms of cinema. 

For the 20th Academy Awards in 1948, AMPAS’ Board of Governors created an honorary award for Best Foreign Language Film. At first it was not a competitive award. There were no nominees, the Board would select just one film and while the honorary award was presented during the ceremony, news of the winner would often be announced before the ceremony. From 1948 to 1956, eight foreign language films were awarded, including SHOESHINE (’46) and BICYCLE THIEVES (’48) from Italy; MONSIEUR VINCENT (’47), THE WALLS OF MALAPAGA (’49) and FORBIDDEN GAMES (’52) from France; and RASHOMON (’50), GATE OF HELL (’53) and SAMURAI I: MUSASHI MIYAMOTO (’54) from Japan. Interesting to note that they completely skipped the award in 1954 and no explanation was given as to why.

The special achievement award morphed into a competitive one in 1957. Countries could submit one film for competition as long as they fit the Academy’s strict criteria. Films had to be longer than 40 minutes to be considered feature length, from a country outside the US and include more than 50% non-English dialogue. But of course, to be considered, English-language subtitles were necessary. Only the country’s officially designated representative could submit a film for consideration. The Academy would then select five nominees from the submissions and members voted on secret ballots. The rules shifted over time. Since 2006, it’s no longer required that the language spoken in the film be the most commonly spoken language of that country. Also rules about both public and private Academy screenings in the Los Angeles area have changed and now a film no longer has to be screened in the U.S. to qualify. Technically, the winner of the Oscar is the country of origin and not the director or producer, however they are usually the ones to accept the award at the ceremony.

The first Best Foreign Language Film was presented by AMPAS president George Seaton to Italy for Federico Fellini’s LA STRADA (’54). The award was accepted by producer Dino De Laurentiis. Early winners included France’s BLACK ORPHEUS (’59) and MON UNCLE (’58), Sweden’s THE VIRGIN SPRING (’60) and Italy’s NIGHTS OF CABIRIA (’57) and 8-1/2 (’63). Some critically acclaimed foreign films were overlooked because they either weren’t submitted by their native country or were disqualified for some reason or another. These included major films like LA DOLCE VITA (’60) and THE SEVENTH SEAL (’57). And if a foreign film was screened in the US, it had a better chance at winning the coveted prize. Once a foreign language film won the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar, it would be screened in the U.S., qualifying it for other competitive categories, like Best Director, Best Writing, Best Costume Design, etc. the following year.

Presenters for this category have almost always been either actors or the current AMPAS president. Jack Valenti, longtime president of the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) holds the record for most presentations for this category. Having recently watched all of the televised presentations and acceptance speeches on the Academy’s YouTube channel, I couldn’t help but notice the consistent trend of flowery speeches about the universal language of cinema. A few presenters stood out. Stars like Jane Fonda and Anthony Quinn openly criticized the use of the word “foreign” in the category. It’s always been required that the winner deliver their speech in English. As acceptance speeches grew longer over time, many filmmakers, especially from war torn nations, would seize the moment and the platform to deliver a poignant message.

There are three acceptance speeches that stand out to me. Perhaps the most famous one is from 1999 when actor/director Roberto Benigni accepted the award for LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL (’98). Benigni leapt from his seat, walked over guests, hopped up the steps and gave presenter Sophia Loren the biggest hug. His speech was incredibly emotional and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house by the end of it. My second favorite was delivered by director Alfonso Cuaron for his film ROMA (2018). While the Academy hasn’t publicly admitted this, I think Cuaron’s speech, in which he very gently criticizes the category and thanks the nominees who “have proven that we are part of the same ocean,” influenced change. The following year the Academy quickly pivoted and changed the category to Best International Feature Film. Dutch director Fons Rademakers whose film THE ASSAULT (’86) won in 1987, delivers my favorite speech. In it, he speaks to the general aversion to foreign language films by saying “This Foreign Language Oscar has a request... please don't let subtitles scare you off as much as they seem to do from time to time.” Take his advice. Watch more international films!