#benjamin's wagon

[niennandil-me-writes]

why you should(n't) rob a jewelry store in the middle of the day

[birthday present for the amazing @krissinonstop, who this canon belongs to. Big SPOILERS for Benjamin's Wagon 1-6]

Redd didn’t know what he had expected when he was called to the most prestigious jewelry store of Benjamin’s Wagon. His boyfriend grinning at him from behind the store window, held in place by the hulking store detective on his right, with Mrs. Peters, the owner of the store standing at his left with an expression on her face that could curdle milk, had been in his top five guesses – and only failed to rank higher because he hadn’t expected him to steal from a store Yasmin frequented.

He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally preparing for the scene that waited for him, before sighing and opening the door. A bell chimed cheerily as the door was pressed open, building a stark contrast to the shrill voice of Mrs. Peters assaulting him before he had even stepped inside.

“Finally! I can’t believe how long it takes to get a so-called professional on this crime scene! What does one have to do in this town to have justice be served? Imagine if this – subject – had drawn a weapon on me or my customers, or my employees while we were waiting for you to show up!”

Redd bit back a snide remark about having to stop a murder on the other side of town – a lie. Bit back another remark about the store detective looking perfectly capable of beating up anyone who’d try to threaten her, seemed in fact like he spent his time beating up people for no reason at all – an observation. Bit back yet another remark about the biggest threat to her employees’ physical health, mental health, and financial stability being Mrs. Peters herself – an undisputed fact.

He said: “What is the matter here?”

“Good that you’re here, sheriff,” Christopher said. “This guy has been following me around ever since I entered this shop, and now him and his accomplice – “ he tilted his head at Mrs. Peters, “ – won’t let me go.”

Mrs. Peters ignored him. “He tried to steal from us!”

Redd looked at Christopher, who didn’t even try to look innocent. “Do you have proof of that?”

“Bob caught him red-handed!” said Mrs. Peters, who seemed to talk exclusively in exclamations.

“That’s racist,” Christopher said. “And I’m not even indigenous.”

“We found this necklace on him,” Mrs. Peters said, holding up a silver band with an amethyst pendant.

Redd looked at Christopher again, who shrugged. “Must have fallen in my pocket.”

“Arrest this man at once! He should be in jail! Or prison! For 10 – no, 20 years! He should not be near polite society.”

“I’ll take care of this, Mrs. Peters,” Redd tried to calm her down. He took Christopher by the shoulder and led him to the door.

“Why are you not arresting him?” yelled Mrs. Peters. “He stole from us!”

“And you got back your property,” Redd said. “I’ll just have to take his information and clear some things up before bringing him to the Sheriff’s Department.”

Redd led Christopher outside and into a narrow alleyway between the shop and a burger joint before he let go of him.

“Do your parents know you’re here, young man?”

“They’re too busy pretending I don’t exist,” Christopher said, unbothered. “Aren’t you gonna handcuff me, sheriff?” He winked.

“I didn’t see it as necessary.”

“Too bad. I like the handcuffs.”

Redd smirked. “That would have made Peters shut up. But it would also have made her way too happy.”

“You got a point there.” Christopher leaned back, his shoulders and left foot pressing against the brick wall behind him.

Redd fully turned now, to face him. He crossed his arms. “A necklace? Really?”

“Dee’s birthday is coming up,” Christopher smiled.

“I’m sure she’d be happier to get something you didn’t steal.”

“Incidentally, my birthday is coming up as well,” Christopher said. “And I thought maybe dear Mrs. Peters might gift me the price of the present for Dee.”

Redd couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Really, I’m surprised you got caught. You’re better than this.”

“Maybe I wanted to get caught.”

“Do you like the handcuffs that much?”

“It’s more about the person who puts the handcuffs on you.” Christopher pushed himself off the wall and shot Redd a smirk that begged to be kissed off his lips.

Redd sighed. “You know we can do that without you committing petty crimes.”

“Petty? That thing cost over two hundred dollars,” Christopher exclaimed. “Really, it’s Peters who is robbing people. Besides,” and he took another step closer, “since you’re always busy with work, I thought I’d become your work for the day.”

Redd sighed again but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Fine, but that means I still need to do my job. Did you steal anything else?”

Christopher shrugged. “You could search me to find out,” he suggested.

“Christopher…”

“Come on, humor me.”

In the end, Redd let himself be swayed – not that he needed much convincing. He started patting him down.

“Is that a knife?”

“No, I’m just happy to see you. Oh, wait, that is actually my spring-knife. Uh, be careful with that.”

Redd confiscated the weapon for now, then resumed his task. He stopped at a bump in Christopher’s jacket pocket. He slipped his hand into the pocket and pulled out the small object.

“I’m assuming this isn’t yours,” he said, turning the small plastic box in his hands. An overexaggerated print on the dark velvet casing marked it as the property of Mrs. Peters’ store.

“She didn’t seem to be missing it,” Christopher said.

“What is it?”

“One way to find out.”

Redd sighed, opening the delicate box with a twist of his fingers. It sprung open to reveal a single small object made of unadorned silver, encased between two velvet cushions. Redd gaped at the ring, which sat unassuming in the box he had found on his boyfriend.

When he finally looked up from it, he found Christopher no longer standing but instead kneeling in front of him. His smirk had gained the subtle edge of satisfaction over an accomplished heist, but there was a softness around his eyes.

There were a lot of thoughts in Redd’s head, the words “really, like this?” somewhere on top. But, really, there was only one response:

“Yes.”

“I haven’t even asked you yet,” Christopher said. He was full-on grinning now.

“Yes.”

“Do you think the ring is right for Farley – “

Redd ignored him and grabbed him by the arms to pull him up and kiss him. Christopher didn’t resist his arrest as he was pulled into a strong hug. He answered the kisses just as hungrily.

“Yes,” said Redd again between kisses.

When he finally pulled away, he said: “I’m making us a nice dinner tonight.”

Despite his general mischievous attitude, Christopher seemed relieved by the answer he had received. Then he was right back to his smirk: “So, does that mean I can keep the earrings I stole?”

“What?”

“You won’t believe this, but Charlotte also has a birthday.”

[kevinthescoutblogger]

Serving in Nauvoo Homes and Shops

Elder Kevin and Sister Lou Dene Hunt are enjoying serving in Nauvoo homes and shops. We are pleased to be serving in Nauvoo as “Site Missionaries” in the Illinois Historic Sites Mission (that includes Nauvoo and Carthage).  This is a great blessing and privilege. As noted earlier, Sister Hunt’s parents, Elder E.H. and Sister Verna Belcher served in Nauvoo from 1979 to 1981.  They spent their…

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jacob’s Journey to Egypt

So Israel set out with all that he had, and when he came to Beersheba, he offered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac. And that night God spoke to Israel in a vision: “Jacob, Jacob!” He said.

“Here I am,” replied Jacob.

“I am God,” He said, “the God of your father. Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make you into a great nation there. I will go down with you to Egypt, and I will surely bring you back. And Joseph’s own hands will close your eyes.”

Then Jacob departed from Beersheba, and the sons of Israel took their father Jacob in the wagons Pharaoh had sent to carry him, along with their children and wives. They also took the livestock and possessions they had acquired in the land of Canaan, and Jacob and all his offspring went to Egypt.

Jacob took with him to Egypt his sons and grandsons, and his daughters and granddaughters—all his offspring.

Now these are the names of the sons of Israel (Jacob and his descendants) who went to Egypt: Reuben, Jacob’s firstborn.

The sons of Reuben: Hanoch, Pallu, Hezron, and Carmi.

The sons of Simeon: Jemuel, Jamin, Ohad, Jachin, Zohar, and Shaul the son of a Canaanite woman.

The sons of Levi: Gershon, Kohath, and Merari.

The sons of Judah: Er, Onan, Shelah, Perez, and Zerah; but Er and Onan died in the land of Canaan.

The sons of Perez: Hezron and Hamul.

The sons of Issachar: Tola, Puvah, Job, and Shimron.

The sons of Zebulun: Sered, Elon, and Jahleel.

These are the sons of Leah born to Jacob in Paddan-aram, in addition to his daughter Dinah. The total number of sons and daughters was thirty-three.

The sons of Gad: Ziphion, Haggi, Shuni, Ezbon, Eri, Arodi, and Areli.

The children of Asher: Imnah, Ishvah, Ishvi, Beriah, and their sister Serah.

The sons of Beriah: Heber and Malchiel.

These are the sons of Jacob born to Zilpah—whom Laban gave to his daughter Leah—sixteen in all.

The sons of Jacob’s wife Rachel: Joseph and Benjamin.

Manasseh and Ephraim were born to Joseph in the land of Egypt by Asenath daughter of Potiphera, priest of On.

The sons of Benjamin: Bela, Becher, Ashbel, Gera, Naaman, Ehi, Rosh, Muppim, Huppim, and Ard.

These are the sons of Rachel born to Jacob—fourteen in all.

The son of Dan: Hushim.

The sons of Naphtali: Jahzeel, Guni, Jezer, and Shillem.

These are the sons of Jacob born to Bilhah, whom Laban gave to his daughter Rachel—seven in all.

All those belonging to Jacob who came to Egypt—his direct descendants, besides the wives of Jacob’s sons—numbered sixty-six persons. And with the two sons who had been born to Joseph in Egypt, the members of Jacob’s family who went to Egypt were seventy in all.

Now Jacob had sent Judah ahead of him to Joseph to get directions to Goshen. When Jacob’s family arrived in the land of Goshen, Joseph prepared his chariot and went there to meet his father Israel. Joseph presented himself to him, embraced him, and wept profusely.

Then Israel said to Joseph, “Finally I can die, now that I have seen your face and know that you are still alive!”

Joseph said to his brothers and to his father’s household, “I will go up and inform Pharaoh: ‘My brothers and my father’s household from the land of Canaan have come to me. The men are shepherds; they raise livestock, and they have brought their flocks and herds and all that they own.’

When Pharaoh summons you and asks, ‘What is your occupation?’ you are to say, ‘Your servants have raised livestock ever since our youth—both we and our fathers.’ Then you will be allowed to settle in the land of Goshen, since all shepherds are detestable to the Egyptians.” — Genesis 46 | The Reader’s Bible (BRB) The Reader’s Bible © 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean Readers Bible. All rights Reserved. Cross References: Genesis 4:2; Genesis 12:2; Genesis 13:7-8; Genesis 15:1; Genesis 21:14; Genesis 25:20; Genesis 28:15; Genesis 29:29; Genesis 34:40; Genesis 35:23; Genesis 41:45; Genesis 43:30; Genesis 44:27; Genesis 45:10; Genesis 47:1; Genesis 47:2-3; Exodus 1:5; Exodus 6:14-15; Exodus 8:26; Numbers 1:38; Numbers 26:12; Numbers 26:15; Numbers 26:23; Numbers 26:26; Numbers 26:44; Numbers 26:48; Numbers 26:57; Joshua 24:4; 2 Samuel 20:1; Matthew 1:3; Luke 15:20; Acts 7:14-15

Genesis 46 Chapter Summary - Jacob's Journey to Egypt

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Chapter One: The Visitor

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter Summary: It's late August, and Lydia has arrived in the US from Europe to take up her position as visiting professor of art history at Barrow College. Enter Prof. Benjamin E. Morales, literature scholar and (as he puts it) 'your very own welcome wagon'.

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: Mature; will become Explicit in later chapters.

Content: Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; discussion of infidelity and emotional abuse; discussion of self-esteem issues and body insecurity; strong language.

A/N: Meet Lydia as she meets Ben. See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background. Pure, nerdy fluff as dork meets dork in a New England college town.

(One for the Big Night nerds, as it's referenced in the chapter: I literally only realised the name of the rival restaurant when I went to check that I'd got the descriptions right for this chapter... IYKYK.

A complete and utter coincidence, I promise.)

Taglist: @cutesyscreenname; @lunapascal; @fuckyeahdindjarin; @julesonrecord; @tieronecrush; @perennialdoll247; @vermillionwinter; @iamskyereads; @imaswellkid

The large, red-brick building is quiet, walls freshly painted and linoleum gleaming in the late August sunshine in anticipation of the impending start of the academic year at Barrow College. In the administration office for the Faculty of Arts, the faculty secretary - Susan, a woman in her late fifties, and the very image of seasoned efficiency - is preparing your new staff ID card, office key, and a plastic folder full of welcome documents and essential information. 

While you wait, you survey the gallery of staff photographs on the wall, trying to quell the nerves in the pit of your stomach. The first day anywhere was never easy. First day as a visiting professor in a liberal arts college on the other side of the Atlantic? Ramp that difficulty level all the way up to eleven.

Susan emerges from behind the counter and hands you your ID card, ensconced in a dark green Barrow-branded lanyard, and the pack of documents. “Okay, Lydia. Normally this is the point where I’d bring you to see the head of the Literature Department,” she explains. “I know you’re an art historian, but Literature runs the visiting program. Always have, always will.” She shrugs and rolls her eyes. “This is the Barrow way.” 

“So you’re not bringing me to see the head of the Literature Department?” you ask. 

“Professor Arden is at a conference, unfortunately. But you’ll meet her next week,” Susan gestures towards the door, and you dutifully move into the main corridor. “In her absence, Professor Morales is going to run through the essentials with you. Don’t worry - Ben’s great, you’re in good hands. Can’t work a copier for love nor money, of course, but a real sweetheart.”

She points out some of the main teaching rooms in the building occupied by the various departments in the faculty, and you can’t help but be amused at how it all feels like a TV or movie set to your eyes. You’d grown up watching American high school and college shows and movies, and now, here you were: Green chalkboards! Those seats with the folding armrests! All that was missing were the standard-issue yellow pencils and those yellow legal pads everyone seemed to use. 

Susan leads the way into a classroom, encouraging you to take a seat. Whereas the other rooms had been notable for their pristine uniformity, this seemed to be in use as a kind of temporary office. A laptop sits on the main desk unit, surrounded by piles of books and papers, covered in coloured tabs.

“This isn’t Professor Morales’ usual office, of course,” Susan explains, pointing to the ceiling. “Leak. His ceiling is being repaired so he’s working here for the moment. Usually he’s just round the corner in 315 - a couple of doors down from your office, in fact. Anyway: he’s running a little behind schedule, though that’s nothing unusual with Ben…I’ll go remind him you have an appointment!” Her voice fades with her footsteps as you take in your surroundings. You notice the chunky volume on the desk: War and Peace. You roll your eyes, thinking about all the times over the years that you’d seen Tolstoy’s masterpiece “casually” left in full view by academics keen to impress, not to mention the assholes you’d encountered as a graduate student, keen to get you into bed by convincing you of their intellectual ability. Whereas their copies were always a little too clean, though, this one was a bit dog-eared and worn at the corners. Maybe Ben Morales was that rare thing: someone who’d actually read it.

You never thought you were the kind of person who would even apply for a year-long visiting professorship at a New England liberal arts college thousands of miles from home, let alone actually take it up. A combination of impostor syndrome and pressure from your then-partner to stay put - “but baby, what about my career?” - had conspired to convince you such a thing would be impossible. 

That was then. This was now. Things had changed, and so had you.

You couldn’t not be changed by the brutal end, a couple of years before, to a fifteen-year relationship: a sudden departure, revelations of infidelity, endless days and nights of tears and numbness, feelings of worthlessness compounding a lifelong lack of self-esteem. It was bad enough without the various accusatory “explanations” offered by your ex-partner for their actions, all designed to make you feel like this was your fault, the consequence of your having been “too much”, too dull, too unattractive now, too stressed-out (never mind that you carried the can for everything). 

Time and many, many hours of therapy helped you to move on. You knew now that you now had a kind of freedom and joy that had never been fully present in your relationship. You were proud to embrace your authentic self. Your friends and family remarked on how happy you seemed, how bright, how confident. They praised your achievements and growing academic profile, even as you never felt quite good enough - professionally or personally.

What they couldn’t see were the metaphorical defences you had built up around yourself: treacherous ramparts surrounding a huge wall of emotional stone, protecting the broken heart and fragile soul within. Your friends and family were enough, as were occasional hook-ups and one night stands as and when the opportunity arose. Even as you left the past for dust, you refused to countenance anything more. 

You believed that you didn’t need anything more - and in a lot of ways, that was true. You liked your life now. You could do as you pleased. Better to have freedom and self-preservation than exposing yourself to the risks that come with emotional connections. You were nearing forty-two. Who’d want a forty-something art historian with too much baggage - emotional and physical, bearing in mind the body you’d come to feel increasingly unhappy with, all scars and stretch marks and aching joints and general discomfort? 

More than that, and to your grim fascination, you never really…felt anything for anyone anymore. At times, you wondered if that part of your brain had been switched off. Sex without attachment or meaning was one thing; real attraction and feelings another thing entirely. Hell, you never even crushed on musicians or actors any more. You’d kind of made peace with it. Maybe this was your destiny. 

You were ‘living your best life’, as your best friend put it. You were hailed for your strength and your optimism. You knew you were better off in this not-so-brave new world, unexpectedly single as you stared down the barrel of middle age. You embraced new opportunities. “You’re still young,” your mother had counselled. “Take the chances life presents, Lyd. See the world! Share that big beautiful brain of yours.”

Now you actually had to do it. Visiting Professor of Art History in a small college with a great reputation. A whole year at Barrow in which to try new things, expand your horizons, and enjoy your freedom.  

Bring it on.

Nervous energy had kept you awake prior to your long-haul flight, and the time difference was starting to kick your ass. You were just on the verge of going in search of a weapons-grade energy drink when he sauntered into the room, wrangling a messy pile of freshly-printed course handbooks.

You suppress a giggle at the sight of him: not because he looked funny, but because he could have walked straight from the pages of a cheesy teen magazine story about unrequited love for a favourite professor. He’s tall, broad, dark, dressed in a pale blue Oxford button-down worn untucked over slightly faded black jeans, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. A pair of well-loved but evidently well cared-for black Doc Marten shoes. You guessed he might be a couple of years older than you, but not very many. Wavy dark hair that looks like it would turn into curls if left to grow out, streaked through with silver. Moustache, and what you guess you might call a sort-of beard - more of a scruff, really, and greying in places. Glasses - but of course! - and behind them what looked (because you were never great with direct eye contact, especially when first meeting) to be dark brown eyes. You’d almost think an unseen costume director had added the pencil he was gripping with his teeth as a final touch, for maximum Hot Professor Cliché effect.

He plonks the pile of handbooks on the desk and does an exaggerated exhalation of breath as he turns to face you, removing the pencil from his mouth and offering a wide smile. He advances towards you, hand outstretched, and you stand up to shake his (rather large, you notice) hand. 

“Welcome to the department! I’m Ben Morales, comparative literature prof and your very own welcome wagon.” He smiles brightly, eyes crinkling. “You must be Lydia.”

You return his smile, albeit shyly. “That’s me - though most people usually end up just calling me Lyd after a while. On rare occasions it becomes Lyddie, though that’s not much shorter than my actual name. My sister used to call me Lydularity but thankfully that didn’t stick.”

Shuuuuuut up, Lydia.

He grins. “Lydia, Lyd,” he turns your name over, as if becoming accustomed to saying it. “Your mom a Jane Austen fan?”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. “I wish it was that cultured, but sadly no. As my mother never fails to remind me: I’m named after a 1970s pop song. And not a very good one, at that. My view - not hers.”

“Well, at least it’s a nice name,” he laughs. “I’m guessing Susan has covered almost everything but I should make sure you have all the essential information you need before school starts - timetables, IT stuff, where the only drinkable coffee on campus is - actually, wait.” He picks up a blue coffee mug from the desk. “You want some coffee?”

You’d take anything at this stage to keep you even a little perkier. “Uh, sure. Yes please. With milk - I mean, creamer. Whatever it is. Half and half, is that what it’s called?”

He nods as he heads out of the classroom in search of coffee. “I normally take mine black, so I’m not up to speed on the creamer situation. It might just be some off-brand stuff. But hopefully you aren’t a connoisseur. Yet.”

You shake your head with a smile, watching him jog lightly out the door, mug in hand.

He has what your friends would describe as ‘chaotic energy’ - somehow both put-together and messy, with a million different thoughts presumably bouncing around in his head at any given moment. It was a relief. From what you’d read on the college website - there was no profile photo, you remembered - he had an exceptional track record as a scholar of European literature, recognised with any number of awards from peers and students alike. You’d even made a mental note to read some of his articles on magical realism and adaptation. 

Because of his impressive profile, you were prepared for the possibility of him being in the mode of some of the more obnoxious men you’d worked with over your years in academia: intimidating, serious, keen to remind you that they were a ‘genius’, and rather vain. Ben, at least judging by your first impressions, seemed to be the complete opposite. 

He swings back into the room with a mug in each hand: his own blue one and, to your surprise, a retro Sesame Street mug for you. You take the coffee from him at the desk, settling back into a front-row seat and smiling with bemusement at the beaming faces of characters you’d loved since childhood. As he sits down on the desk he notices your reaction and looks sheepish. 

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind the choice of mug-”

“My mom always says these guys taught me to read and count. Feels right to have my first real American college coffee in a Sesame Street mug”, you say quickly, raising the mug. 

He grins. “Well, that’s a relief. That’s my favourite one.” He raises his own mug, reciprocating your gesture. “Uh… to the Children’s Television Workshop?”

You’ve sat through enough briefings and orientation sessions in your time to know how dull they could be. This, though, is less like a meeting and more like an overdue catch-up between old pals. The conversation takes various turns and digressions as Ben explains Barrow’s various quirks, traditions, and regulations. He’s expressive and demonstrative: a match for you in both talking with your hands and in unintentionally pulling silly faces. The longer you talk, the more relaxed you feel: here was one of your hosts, warm and funny, and already like a friend. Your residual anxiety about the visiting post fades. 

It’s going to be a good year. 

“And, in conclusion, that’s why you don’t buy filter coffee from the cafeteria after midday,” Ben says. “I think that’s everything? I’ll walk you to your new office. Oh, and - dinner at seven thirty?”

His invitation takes you by surprise, and it shows on your face. Ben looks a little confused. “I mean, if you want to have dinner with me. We normally take the new visiting professor out, just as a welcome gesture - you’re stuck with just me this evening, though.” 

He shrugs apologetically. “Of course, maybe you’ve got plans with your family or partn-“

“Dinner would be great!” you interrupt, keen to avoid any discussion of partners and inevitable explanations. “Shall I just meet you here, or…?”

He begins to scoop up the course handbooks. “I can pick you up, if you want? The restaurant is in the next town over. Unless you’d rather I not pick you up. Because-“

You come up to the desk to help him gather the print-outs, shuffling them quickly into orderly piles. “No, that would be great. I mean, I still think it’s Tuesday of last week, I wouldn’t trust myself with following out-of-town directions just yet.”

He beams and leans over to pick up the rest of the handbooks, and you get a slight, sweet hint of his scent: clean soap, a cologne with top notes of bergamot, and an underlying warmth. Maybe even a touch of paper, of all things. 

He smells good. 

You step back and your eyes meet for a moment. Unthinkingly, you breathe in sharply as you look properly into his dark eyes for the first time. 

Holy moly, those are quite something.

And that’s when it happens. A tiny flicker of electricity crackling across your brain. It’s so fleeting that you don’t even register it, not immediately. It’s only much later on, alone and thinking about the first time you met, that you find yourself conjuring up the memory of his scent and of those beautiful brown eyes.

“They just love the colouring books you left for them, Lyddie!” Your mother is talking to you via FaceTime, recounting the latest adventures of your little nieces in loving detail.

You aren’t really listening. It’s past 7.30 and you’re deeply conscious of not being late for your dinner invitation, keen to hide your usual chaotic inability to be ready on time for anything from your new colleagues for as long as possible.

You crane your head to look out the front window of your apartment, just in time to see a car pull up outside. Your mother is still narrating exactly what your older niece drew at preschool in the 48 hours since you’d left for the US.

“I gotta go, Mom! The dinner, remember? I love you -“

“Call me when you get in!”

“I won’t, because time zones? Okay I have to go byebyebye -“ and you end the FaceTime call as you close your front door and skip lightly down the stairs to the entrance hall of the building. 

It was difficult to know what to wear to something like this. Academic welcome dinners and events were often relatively informal, and Ben had not struck you as the kind of man who’d be gravely offended if you turned up in jeans and a long-sleeved tee. But you didn’t know a lot about the restaurant, so you erred on the side of caution: a mid-length, indigo chambray button-down dress that you’d made yourself, fitted around the waist with a v-shaped neckline; rose gold vintage-style flat sandals in the late summer heat; and - just in case it got chilly - a red cropped cardigan that was another of your creations, hand knitted a couple of years before. 

Ben is leaning against his car when you appear at the main door of the apartment building. He’s changed, too: a soft-looking white shirt has replaced the blue Oxford he was wearing earlier. His sleeves are rolled up, and this time the shirt is tucked into his dark jeans. He’s wearing light-coloured suede desert boots and sunglasses. He gives you a little wave as you walk down the path to meet him, moving to open the passenger door for you before settling in on the driver’s side.

“Hope the apartment is okay?” he asks as you adjust your seatbelt and tuck your purse at your feet. “I think they’ve been putting visiting profs there for years. God knows what secrets it holds by now,” he adds dramatically.

You put on your own pair of sunglasses to shield your eyes from the evening sun. “It’s pretty nice, honestly. I’m still waiting on a lot of stuff to arrive, but I’ve got the essentials and working wifi. What more could you want?”

He smiles as he pulls away from the kerb. “Good to hear. So you’re on your own, or is your-” 

“Just me!!” you chirrup, slightly too enthusiastically. “Free and easy.”

Uh, cringe much, Lydia?

It’s quiet for a few moments and you start to wonder if you should start talking again before it gets even more awkward. You’re just about to open your mouth when he starts tapping the touchscreen on the dash.

“Do you mind if I put on some music? Not to halt conversation, don’t worry! I just usually have a soundtrack for most things: driving, writing, grading…”

You grin. “Music would be great - I’m a fellow playlist curator. My writing ones are fickle, though.”

At the next red light he taps and swipes before selecting a playlist. “Hope you are okay with middle-aged dad tracks for driving.”

Ah, he’s a dad. You hadn’t noticed a ring but that obviously didn’t mean anything.

“How old do you think I am? I’m middle-aged, I’ll have you know. And my musical tastes have been middle-aged since I was a teenager.” You feign being affronted and he huffs a laugh. 

“In that case, I can subject you to the full rigours of the playlist.” He taps play, and a smile spreads across your face as you recognise the steady opening bass riff of ‘Fortunate Son’ and start to nod along.

“Oh, man - Creedence? Okay, I see what you mean about the dad tracks,” you admit, bobbing your head to the rhythm as John Fogerty’s voice rasps through the speakers. “In a good way, though!”

Ben taps the fingers of one hand on the steering wheel as he drives. “Plenty more where that came from. Unfortunately, this is only a twenty minute trip, and this playlist is at least five hours long, but I can email you over the link if you’d like?” You nod, watching the surroundings change as you travel out of town, trying to take it all in: the neat houses, the tall trees and woodland that line either side of the route, the road signs pointing out local tourist spots. 

You’re heading for the next town over - a bit larger than Barrow and, as Ben explained on the drive, better appointed when it came to options for a nice dinner out. 

“Perils of a college town,” he’d added, “we have a great diner, a couple of good cafés and takeout places, but the main clientele are students looking for a sort of Man Vs Food experience. And we usually don’t want to hit the visiting prof with that right away.”

You chuckle, watching as the green of the trees gives way to painted timber houses, brick, and stone as you enter the town. It’s not long before Ben is pulling up near a small restaurant whose hand-painted sign reads LINO - RISTORANTE.

“This place is always worth the drive over,” he explains as you step into the restaurant’s small porch and open the door. Lino’s is small but beautiful: dark, vintage-style wooden furniture and white linen tablecloths; wood panelling on the walls; a candle in those old-style chianti bottles with the little wicker baskets on each table. It’s almost full on that weeknight evening, the gentle hum of conversation and cutlery accompanied by a soft soundtrack of Italian classics.

It’s weirdly familiar, and it takes you a moment to realise why. Settled at your table, you look around with a grin. Ben raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“This place, it’s - it’s just like the restaurant in…”

“Big Night.” He chimes in with you and does a little air punch, unable to hide his delight at the reference. “Someone else gets it! Finally!!”

You laugh and take a sip of your water. “I’m pleased. But clearly more people need to be introduced to that movie, huh?”  “Fuck yeah!” He looks a little embarrassed at how excited he is, pinking around the ears and dropping his head to look at the menu. “Sorry, I’m getting carried away. Just so thrilled that someone else had that reaction, too. You’re the first to get it!” He looks back up at you and offers a shy smile.

Here’s the thing about notionally professional academic dinners, especially with people you don’t know that well: they are almost always like an hours-long conference presentation, with the added complication of having to eat while discussing your current research. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d ended up aimlessly stirring your coffee after several hours listening to other people drone on about their praxis and theoretical grounding late into the evening, sure that they’d written you off when you tried to swerve the conversation around to lowbrow topics like music or (heaven forfend) television. Because serious intellectuals don’t watch television, unless it’s important and worthy programming (in other words: dull). 

Ben had left a good impression from earlier in the day, but you were still a little nervous in case dinner was where you were expected to ‘prove yourself’. As it turned out, you didn’t really talk about work at all. Instead, you’d spent the best part of two hours eating astonishingly good Italian food while letting your inner film and music nerd run riot, in the company of a man who had rapidly revealed himself to be just as much of a geek as you were. The topics of conversation shifted organically as you ate, changing as if scheduled to coincide with each course. 

Antipasti: favourite movies. Top fives compared and debated across various categories. You’d established a shared love of international cinema, Close Encounters of the Third Kind (“You have to read Bob Balaban’s book about being on set with Truffaut!” you’d exclaimed, sending chunks of tomato flying off your bruschetta in your enthusiasm), and Indiana Jones (“I do feel increasingly icky about Temple of Doom”, he’d confided). And unanimously agreed that the Muppet Christmas Carol is, in fact, the best adaptation of Dickens’ story yet made.

Main courses: music. He talks about his collection of vinyl records, built around a core of albums that had belonged to his dad. You swap tales of favourite live music experiences, from stadiums to tiny basement venues. He is far too impressed when you let slip that you can play guitar and sing. (Of course he’s impressed now. After all, he hasn’t heard you yet.)

It’s been a while since you felt so at ease with someone you’d only just met, and the sense of safety reassures you that coming here was the right thing to do. As you finish your tiramisu and sip on espresso to round out the meal, you chat casually about yourselves and your careers.

“So what made you go for the visiting gig?” 

You thoughtfully sucked the last bit of mascarpone cream off your spoon. “I’ve never lived in the US - I was here for a couple of conferences but only for a few days, and I always wanted to spend more time here. And I needed a change of scenery and a new challenge. I guess I’d needed it for a while, but then after everything that went down it felt much more urgent, you know?” 

He looks a little puzzled. “Everything that went down?”

“What I mean is, it’s been a shitty couple of years,” you clarify. A deep breath. It’s still weird telling people about this. “Long story short: my partner basically walked out on me, they were having an affair, blah blah blah. Fifteen years together, I never saw it coming, left on my own. But that’s done now. In the past.” You wave your hand lightly through the air, as if swatting away a particularly irritating insect.

He looks genuinely sorry for you. You brace yourself for the inevitable expression of sympathy, the “plenty more fish” lines, or just the awkward silence that comes when you’ve shared too much, too soon.

“And how are you, now?” he asks. That’s all he says. Emphasis on the “you”. 

“I’m… well, I’m a lot happier, I guess? I think I’m much more myself. I don’t want to ladle more of this on you but I’ve realised there were things there that weren’t right. And that I carried a lot of, well, stuff that I shouldn’t have. So I feel…free?”

You do not tell him about the ramparts and solid walls that you’ve built around your emotional core, the crumbled blocks and shards of your past all too ready to trip and pierce anyone who tries to get too close.

“And I’m free to do cool shit like come here for a year, and watch whatever the hell I want on TV and not be judged for it.” You grin and pull a silly face, hoping an injection of levity into proceedings will help move the conversation on. 

He leans in conspiratorially, a cheeky smile dancing across his lips. “So we should be grateful to them for being a dick, because we got you here as a result?”

You arch an eyebrow and look at him in mock seriousness. “Let’s not give them any credit, shall we?”

He laughs and drains the last of his coffee. “On a nicer topic,” he proposes, “is there anything you really want to do while you’re here? And I don’t mean courses or sections you want to teach. Stuff you want to do while you’ve got your year on this side of the pond.”

“Once I’ve settled in a bit, I want to explore. See some places. Add to my tacky snowglobe collection from places I’ve been,” you grin. “There’s so much, though - New York, Boston, DC…” You suck on the inside of your cheek as you think. “What I really want, though, is to go west. Even just for a week.”

He nods, raising his eyebrows. “Some kind of manifest destiny thing, or…?”

You roll your eyes. “Thankfully, no. A combination of my own film nerdery and growing up on a regular diet of old-school Westerns on rotation in the house, thanks to my dad. It’s got this allure, you know? The West. Especially California. So yeah, that’s on my bucket list for next summer, before I go back.”

“I’ll give you some recommendations, if you’d like?” Ben looks a little shy. “That’s where I’m from - the Bay Area, specifically.” 

“No way! Tell me everything. So how did a Bay Area boy end up in the dreaming spires of a New England college town?”

This is how you find out that Ben Morales is 47, came to work at Barrow over a decade ago after a couple of postdocs and short-term posts, and is the eldest of three siblings. His younger brother and sister both live in their hometown, close to their mother who has lived alone since his father died a few years ago. You get a sense that their proximity helps alleviate some of his eldest child guilt about being on the other side of the country. He dotes on his niblings, showing you photos of them from time spent out west during the summer and speaking about them with evident pride and amusement. 

He is not, as it turns out, a dad.

He listens attentively as you talk about your family: your parents, your little nieces, your sister and her partner, and the relatively tight-knit little unit that exists between you. “It’s not like we see each other all the time, not since I had to move for my job,” you explain. “But I don’t know how I would have got through everything without them. And being so close helped me be independent, on some level.”

He nods. “I get that. I mean, when I went on my year abroad to Málaga I was the first person in the family to go anywhere outside the US or parts of Mexico, and this was huge.” He smiles at the memory. “I know that my mom was freaking out. The whole neighbourhood knew she was freaking out. Until I moved to the east coast the furthest she’d ever been was to visit her family in Texas or just over the border.” His expression shifts, more thoughtful. “But she and my dad never wanted to let me feel I couldn’t do it. You know?”

He’s so genuine and earnest. It makes perfect sense why he would be such a good professor, and why his students have been so keen to nominate him for award after award.

The server comes over to take the empty dessert plates and espresso cups, and Ben asks for the check.

You fire off a message to your mom as you’re heading to bed: 

Just letting you know I’m home. Dinner was great. Made the right choice coming here - already met some lovely people and they’re so welcoming. Talk to you over the next couple of days. Love to Dad x

You plug your phone in to charge and lie back on the pillows, feeling content and excited for the year ahead. You’re on the cusp of sleep when your screen lights up again, and you reach for your phone. If it’s your mom, it’s a weird time to be replying.

It’s not your mom. It’s a message from Ben Morales. 

You’d asked to swap numbers when he dropped you home earlier. After all, he was the only colleague you’d met, and if you had some sort of major emergency it couldn’t hurt to have someone to call.

BEN MORALES: Hi Lydia, it’s Ben. Just wanted to say it was really great to meet you and we’re so lucky to have you with us for the year. And thank you for the book recommendation! Just give me a yell if you need anything. See you tomorrow - get some sleep! B

There’s a picture attached - a screenshot of the order he’d just placed for a second-hand copy of Bob Balaban’s Spielberg, Truffaut and Me, his diary from the making of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

You can’t help but smile.

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

[apocalypseornaw]

Should've Known (2/3)

Benny Lafitte x Reader (reader has nickname of Bandit. This will be a mini series with the break up first then how they got together then Benny coming to find her)

Human/Hunter Benny AU

Benny reflects on your relationship during his drive from Louisiana to Sioux Falls

The day Benny met you was way back when Lucifer had been busted out after the seals were broken. Demons and monsters were crawling out of every dark corner of hell and when Bobby had sent up the message that hunters needed to circle the wagons to push back Benny and Elizabeth had thrown their hats into the fight as well.

Getting to the safe house where all of you were hold up was a task in itself. They'd just finished the tests needed to get into the threshold when he'd heard a set of voices hollering "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" He hadn't expected two women to come sliding into the door, covered in blood and laughing something about ghouls.

Dean has jumped to grab both of you, Bobby and Ellen both were clearly terrified at the blood covering you both but after you'd wiped the blood free of your face and assured everyone the blood didn't belong to either of you introductions were done. Ellen had introduced Jo as her daughter and Bobby had introduced you as basically his kid "We call her bandit but that's a story for a different day" Dean had added with a laugh when he had to dodge you swinging at his arm.

You'd grinned before wiping your hand on your jeans and offering it to him and Elizabeth "Well if I would've known we had company I would've cleaned up a bit" Jo and Dean had both cracked up but one look from Ellen silenced the three of you. "Serious note, thank you two for coming. We need all hands on deck"

After that fight you'd ended up helping Jo to sort of takes reigns of some of the hunters network to take the load off of Bobby which meant more and more hunters knew you.

It took about a year and half of knowing each other before the first time you and Jo had stopped in Carencro for a visit. Benny could still remember when you'd called him "Lafitte, um we need a better first aid kit then we got and a decent place to crash for a couple hours. Think we can take you and Liz up on that offer?"

-------

Elizabeth had helped you and Jo patch up and considering neither of you felt like going to the café or out for food Benny had offered to cook you something.

Jo was still in the shower and Elizabeth was putting the first aid items away when Benny had heard a light set of footsteps behind him. He'd been around you enough to know you were purposely making noise to let him know you were there. He hadn't turned around from the stove before saying "Just wondering Darlin, you ever gonna tell me the story behind Bandit?"

You laughed and he cut his eyes at you watching as you grabbed a bottle of water then came to stand not far from him watching the food as he stirred the contents of the pan around "Your sister knows" he turned in earnest then to look at you "Well that's just wrong"

You laughed again and he had to enjoy the sound. He'd learned quickly that it took you a while to let down your walls and seeing you relaxed around him meant a lot. You'd tapped the bottle in thought before finally saying "Raccon traits Benjamin. Stays up all night, dark circles under eyes, looks cute but will fight you and very well may be rabid"

A smile slipped onto his face at that "Bandit works then" you'd grinned then leaned over his shoulder "What ya cooking anyways?" He shrugged "Making a stirfry. Figured it wouldn't be too hard on your stomachs but would give you something warm so you two can get some rest"

About that time Jo and Elizabeth emerged and the mood quickly shifted, any conversation between just you and Benny long forgotten.

When had the two of you slipped from friends to more? Was it when Andrea started swearing something was going on between the two of you? (resulting in Jo going after her)

Or was it when you got hurt and Jo had called Elizabeth for help because the two of you were about thirty miles from them and he'd left In the middle of the night to go to your side.

---------

The day he'd found out Andrea cheated on him it just so happened you'd swung through Carencro with Dean and Sam to see Elizabeth before continuing on to New Orleans to pick some stuff up for Bobby.

The three of you had gone to Benny's bar with intentions to grab a beer then head to the café before hitting the road. Neither of you had expected that about the time you'd be walking into the door Andrea would nearly knock you down storming out.

Benny had made it to the corner in enough time to see Dean grab your arm before you could hit the ground and steady you. He'd seen the anger in your eyes as you'd hollered "The fuck is your problem Andrea?"

She'd eyed you before looking at Benny who'd by then made it to the doorway "Yet you ask how I could cheat?" "Woah woah woah...she cheated on you?" You'd asked Benny and when he nodded a smile that couldn't be described as anything other than dangerous slipped onto your face "I'm gonna beat your ass bitch!"

Dean had grabbed you before you could get a hand on Andrea and Sam had helped him to drag you into the bar. The last thing Dean had said over his shoulder was "Andrea. I can hold her for maybe five minutes then you're on your own"

After the split from Andrea it seemed like you and Benny started finding your way to each other a lot more often. When you needed a hunting partner that wasn't Jo or either Winchester you'd call him and vice versa.

The first time he'd realized he'd developed feelings for you beyond friendship was on a hunt. You'd gotten hurt protecting a few kids. Seeing the blood staining the front of your shirt had terrified him. Even worse was when he had to be the one to stitch you up.

You'd laid across the bed in the motel and teased him as he laid out the suture kit "Damn Lafitte you look a little green. Cmon it aint that bad. Focus on my hell hound scars and this looks like face paint in comparison"

He'd laughed to humor you more than anything then worked in silence. When he was done you'd squeezed his hand "See? No biggie. Now do you need patching?" He shook his head because he had a few ribs he was certain was cracked but there really wasn't nothing that could be done for them.

He'd helped you to stand and it was then you'd seemed to notice your shirt was wrecked. "Damn, I need a new shirt" he hadn't thought before offering you one of his. When he had the smile on your face had made his heart flip "You sure Benny? Ask Dean and Sam I don't return shirts"

He'd helped you to slip your ruined shirt off, trying to ignore how it felt to have his hands on your skin. Once his shirt was covering you, the distance between the two of you were pratically none existent.

You stood picking absent-mindedly at the front of the shirt and he'd not moved his hand after buttoning one of the buttons on the grey henley you now wore so that it wouldn't fall down off your shoulder "Benny?" Your voice was so damn soft when your eyes met it took everything in him to not kiss you or at least ask if he could. "Thanks for the shirt" you'd told him then pulled away to climb into one of the beds in the motel room. He'd nodded more to himself then to you "Anytime Bandit"

The first time He'd kissed you, you'd voiced the fear of being a rebound. The truth was Andrea couldn't have been further from his mind. The only thought he'd had that night was just how gorgeous you'd looked dancing at the bar with Sam.

Hell he hadn't thought much of Andrea in a while before that. Yeah he'd loved her and her cheating had hurt but he couldn't help but wonder could it have been a course correction because looking at you? He didn't know if he ever would've gotten with her if he'd known you like he knew you now.

Weeks passed and he finally managed to get it through your head you weren't a rebound. He cared about you. You slowly started to open yourself to being with him. The first time the two of you had slept together you'd woke up the next morning and had been so damn distant it had scared him. He didn't want one night to cost him one of the most important people in his life. He hadn't realized you were thinking the same thing.

---------

After that the two of you learned to talk to each other, learned to trust in the love that had formed from a friendship years strong. That was why he didn't understand why you'd left. Why you hadn't given him a chance to explain.

He gripped the steering wheel of his truck a bit tighter. Elizabeth had throw a plate at his head when he'd gone over to ask her why she'd told you he'd asked Andrea to come to town. He didn't blame her for telling you, hell he loved the fact that she was protective of you but he wished she would've asked for an explanation first.

He had one hell of a drive ahead of him but he had to see you face to face,had to at least try to explain what had actually happened and at the very least to convince you that you were the most amazing woman he'd ever known.

He knew he would be facing Bobby and Ellen's wrath, Jo's too but it would be worth it if it meant he could fix things between the two of you.

@123passwort @valeks-star

[kwebtv]

TV Guide -  August 15 - 21, 1964

The “Wagon Train” Regulars

John Herrick McIntire (June 27, 1907 – January 30, 1991) Film and television character actor who appeared in 65 theatrical films and many more television series. McIntire is well known for having replaced Ward Bond, upon Bond’s sudden death in November 1960, as the star of NBC’s Wagon Train. He played Christopher Hale, the leader of the wagon train (and successor to Bond’s character, Seth Adams) from early 1961 to the series’ end in 1965. He also replaced Charles Bickford, upon Bickford’s death in 1967, as ranch owner Clay Grainger (brother of Bickford’s character) on NBC’s The Virginian for four seasons.  (Wikipedia)

Robert Fuller (born Leonard Leroy “Buddy” Lee, July 29, 1933)  Horse rancher and retired actor. He began his career on television, guest-starring primarily on Western programs, while appearing in several movies. In his five decades of television, Fuller was known for his deep, raspy voice and was familiar to television viewers throughout the 1960s and 1970s from his co-starring roles as Jess Harper and Cooper Smith on the popular 1960s Western series Laramie and Wagon Train, and was also well known for his starring role as Dr. Kelly Brackett in the 1970s medical /action drama Emergency!  (Wikipedia)

Benjamin Franklin "Frank" McGrath (February 2, 1903 – May 13, 1967)  Television and film actor and stunt performer who played the comical, optimistic cook with the white beard, Charlie B. Wooster, on the western series Wagon Train for five seasons on NBC and then three seasons on ABC. McGrath appeared in all 272 episodes in the eight seasons of the series, which had ended its run only two years before his death. McGrath's Wooster character hence provided the meals and companionship for both fictional trail masters, Ward Bond as Seth Adams and John McIntire as Christopher "Chris" Hale.

After Wagon Train, McGrath appeared in 1965 and 1966 as Uncle Lucius in nine episodes of ABC's situation comedy Tammy, with Debbie Watson in the title role and Denver Pyle as the grandfather. Thereafter, McGrath was a guest star on two network westerns, as stagecoach driver Neddie Henshaw on the 1966 episode "Linda" of NBC's The Virginian and as Buster in the 03/13/1967 episode "Plunder", of ABC's The Big Valley.  (Wikipedia)

Terry W. Wilson (September 3, 1923 – March 30, 1999)  Actor most noted for his role as "Bill Hawks", the assistant trail master, in all 267 episodes of the NBC and ABC western television series, Wagon Train, which aired from 1957 to 1965.

Wilson appeared in more than thirty-five films and television programs between 1948 and 1981. Many of his early roles were uncredited. On July 2, 1953, he was cast as a stagecoach guard in episode 121, "Woman from Omaha", of The Lone Ranger. In 1956, he had another uncredited role as a robber in the ABC/Warner Brothers western series, Cheyenne, the first television western in an hour-long format, starring Clint Walker.

After Wagon Train, Wilson appeared in several other westerns, including ABC's short-lived Custer and Hondo in 1967, in four episodes of NBC's The Virginian/The Men from Shiloh starring James Drury in 1970 and 1971, once on CBS's Gunsmoke in 1972, twice in Richard Boone's Hec Ramsey in 1973 and 1974, and as Judge Lennon in the episode "Counterall" of Buddy Ebsen's CBS detective series, Barnaby Jones.  (Wikipedia)

[fancoloredglasses]

Star Trek, part 5: Deep Space Nine (Gunsmoke in space)

[All images are owned by Paramount. Please don’t sue me]

With TNG riding toward its final season and the sixth and final film starring the Original Series crew leaving theaters, rumors started about a new Star Trek series. Obviously there would be films starring the Next Generation crew (more on that in a future review), so would this see the birth of a new legendary starship and crew? How would it differ from the Enterprise?

In 1993, these questions would be answered. This wouldn’t be a starship off looking for adventure. It would be a starbase where adventure would come to them!

A lot of the promotional materials had stated that if Star Trek was “Wagon Train in space," the new show would be “Gunsmoke in space”

(Thanks to Intro Master)

Deep Space Nine (or commonly referred to as DS9) was set on a former Cardassian base orbiting the previously-occupied world of Bajor. The Cardassians, having gotten everything they wanted from the planet, abandoned it and the base to the Bajorans, who asked the Federation for assistance in rebuilding their world. The Bajorans aren’t officially part of the Federation (yet; that’s DS9’s secondary mission), so members of the Bajoran military are aboard to keep the Federation honest.

The station that was dubbed Deep Space Nine was originally a Cardassian mining station known as Terek Nor. The mission for the now-Federation station changed when it was discovered that a wormhole opened in the region.

This wormhole opened trade and exploration to a previously-unreachable region of the galaxy known as the Gamma Quadrant (the region that we all know and love is known as the Alpha Quadrant), with Deep Space 9 being a hub for commerce and travel, as well as the first line of defense for any threats from the Gamma Quadrant (not to mention a deterrent to the Cardassians suddenly wanting Bajor back)

With a new series comes a new uniform.

The new uniforms moved the colors (same color scheme as TNG) to the top of the uniform, with the rest being basic black with a grey undershirt. It was to give a feel of a “grease monkey” uniform where the crew was intended to get their hands dirtier than a starship crew would. Of course, the Bajoran military had their own uniforms as well, as evidenced by the two other crew in the photo. (yes, that is a Ferengi in the photo. More on him later)

DS9’s commanding officer is Commander (later Captain) Benjamin Sisko (played by Avery Brooks, who previously played an enforcer named Hawk in Spencer: for Hire) Sisko is a veteran of a major battle against the Borg (which the Federation lost), in which he lost his wife. He had spent the three years following the battle in the Federation shipyards, hoping for an uneventful rest of his career. He was more than a bit pissed when he was given this assignment. That anger has tempered over the years that has morphed into a ruthless (if compassionate; I mean, this is Star Trek!) cunning.

He was certainly NOT a carbon copy of Picard as Q (in his only appearance on the show) would find out.

(Thanks to Star Trek Clips)

Sisko’s First Officer is Major (later Colonel) Kira Nerys (played by Nana Visitor; on Bajor, the family name comes first), a former member of the Bajoran Resistance. Kira is fiercely loyal to Bajor and sees the Federation as just another invading force. She eventually respects her fellow crew, despite the fact that they’re not Bajoran.

The head of Station Security is Constable Odo (played by Rene Auberjonois, who previously was on Benson. Needless to say, this is a far cry from a sitcom!), a shapeshifter who doesn’t know his origins. Odo’s word is law when it comes to the safety of the station and its inhabitants. It is later revealed that he is in love with Kira.

The station’s Science Officer is Lt. (later Lt. Commander) Jadzia Dax (played by Terry Farrell), a Trill. A select number of Trills are paired with a symbiotic life form (call Symbionts, naturally) that share the memories of their previous hosts with their current Trill host (the name of the Symbiont is the Trill’s last name; the gender of the host doesn’t matter to the Symbiont, and it likely will have hosts of both genders over its lifetime)

Dax had lived several lifetimes before pairing with Jadzia. Its previous host, Curzon Dax, was a mentor to Sisko (which is why Sisko occasionally calls Jadzia “Old Man”)

The Chief Medical Officer is Lt. Dr. Julian Bashir (played by Alexander Siddig) Bashir is socially awkward, but very intelligent and intensely curious. Because of this (the intelligence and curiosity, not the social awkwardness), he attracts attention from Elim Garak, a Cardassian tailor who is also an ex-spy with whom Bashir develops a friendship, and Federation Intelligence, who wants to recruit him.

Bashir also has a major unrequited crush on Dax, which would later be…is requited a word? (more on that later)

The Chief of Operations is Senior Chief Petty Officer Miles O’Brien (played by Colm Meaney), who was a recurring character on TNG and (obviously) transferred to DS9 from the Enterprise. It’s his job to keep the station together despite its systems not being based on Federation technology. Over the course of the series, he and Dr. Bashir became best friends.

You will note that in the cast photo there are two characters not in a Starfleet of Bajoran uniform…

Quark (played by Armin Shimerman, who also played Principal Skinner in Buffy the Vampire Slayer) is a Ferengi and the owner of a bar/gambling house in the marketplace/public area known as the Prominade. He is also the local crime lord. Very few illicit dealings happen on the station without his knowledge (and often his authorization) Despite this, he and Odo has a respectful rivalry (Odo wants to nail Quark with something that will get him removed, while Quark delights in driving Odo crazy)

Rather than being comic relief, Quark is played as having an understated cunning (though sometimes overshadowed by his racial greed; if the Ferengi were played like this, they could've been a credible threat) Pretty much everything that is canon about Ferengi culture (including most of the Rules of Acquisition) comes because of Quark.

Quark’s son Nog eventually enrolls in Starfleet Academy, becoming the first Ferengi to become a Starfleet officer.

Sisko’s son, Jake (played by Cirroc Lofton) grew up around Starfleet, but when he became an adult he chose to become a writer instead of joining Starfleet. He is best friends with Nog, encouraging him to apply to Starfleet Academy.

As the series progressed, war came through the wormhole (more on that later, so the station needed a dedicated Tactical Officer.

And so the recently-promoted Lt. Commander Worf joined the crew. He and Dax begin a relationship.

(Thanks to April 5, 2063)

However, life outside the series continued and new uniforms were introduced in the movies that spun from TNG (oh, you knew they were coming; more on those in a future review)

(Thanks to Giant Freakin Robot)

Similar to the “work” uniforms, the top portion was grey for all personnel, with the undershirt denoting division.

Now on to the threats (cuz you know there are plenty!)

Thankfully, the Borg did not make an appearance, though the Klingons, Romulans, and obviously the Ferengi and Cardassians did.

However, new threats came through the wormhole in the form of a conquering coalition known as the Dominion, ruled by the Changelings (of which Odo is one, though he knew nothing of where he came from, let alone what his people are, at the beginning of the series) and the genetically-engineered races who serve them.

The Jem’Hadar are the foot soldiers of the Dominion…

…commanded by the Vorta.

In response, Starfleet assigned a ship to DS9 in an effort to better protect it.

(Thanks to Memory Alpha)

The USS Defiant (NX-74205) is a prototype vessel originally designed to battle the Borg. It proved too powerful for its size (nearly shaking itself apart when engines were at full power), so it was toned down a bit and (with cooperation from the Romulans) outfitted with a cloaking device to allow stealth missions against the Dominion.

The Dominion War lasted the final two seasons of the series (ending during the series finale) . It might have ended sooner than it did had the Cardassians not decided to join the Dominion. As a result of that alliance, Dax is killed by a Cardassian in the season 6 finale!

(Thanks to Omega Trek)

[In actuality, Ferrell was offered a role on another show. Rather than accommodate her shooting schedule for the other show, Rick Berman decided to kill Jadzia Dax off]

However, this wasn’t the last we’d see of Dax, as it was implanted into a host that was not prepared to receive it (nor did she ever want to be a host), but Dax would’ve died without implantation, and she was the only Trill aboard.

Ensign Ezri Dax (played by Nicole DeBoer) is a lot less sure of herself than Jadzia was, mainly due to having a new voice (and 8 new sets of memories) in her head that she was ill-prepared for. Though she likes Worf, she decides not to continue the relationship he had with Jadzia, though she DOES hook up with Bashir!

Like TNG, the series ran for seven seasons. It showed a lot more cracks in the Federation’s utopia. Things should’ve been explored more, but for whatever reason the writers didn’t want the crew asking too many questions.

The series is available on Paramount+, PlutoTV, and behind your favorite paywall. If you would like to see an episode reviewed, please let me know!

[amberlynnmurdock]

New Love, New Haven

Chapter Eleven: Navigation 

Pairing: Benjamin Tallmadge x Original Female Character 

Summary: Nathan and Ben have a heart-to-heart. Sadie and Ben find other ways to keep a secret. 

A/N: Hope you’re all having a lovely June! I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

Warnings: very very mild sexual content (IDK why I’m even putting a warning but I guess it’s alluded lol) 

June 1773

Something had shifted ever since the secret was out about Ben and Sadie. Things were so much easier for them now, Sadie almost missed sneaking out and passing notes. For Sadie, it was nice to not have to worry about getting caught or have to watch her words around everyone anymore. Even for Ben—a weight had been lifted off his shoulders now that Nathan knew. It felt even more right to be with Sadie now that it wasn’t a secret anymore.

Sadie was wiping down the bar at the tavern, replaying the moment she had confessed to Nathan about Ben.

If they were kids, and Nathan had found out a boy was secretly dating his sister, he would’ve pushed the boy into the ground and told him to stay away. She laughed, remembering so many times Nathan defended her when she was young. Her mind wandered to an early

memory she had of Nathan.

☆☆☆☆

April 1763

It was a cold spring day and the sun shone brightly but not bright enough to feel warm outside. It was one of those days one had to be constantly moving around to not feel cold. For Sadie, she would rather be sitting comfortably in the wagon instead of running around and roughing it up with her brother and his friends.

Nathan held the handle of the wagon and ran across the field, dragging Sadie along. She held onto either side of the red wagon as Nathan took twists and turns in the field. Sadie laughed uncontrollably. Anyone else might’ve felt unsafe being pulled like that but Sadie knew her big brother wouldn’t do anything that’d hurt her.

They were racing his friends who pulled their own wagons. Nathan was the first to reach the big tree near the pond, and he raised his fist in the air in success.

"We won!” Nathan shouted at his friends.

His other two friends, names Sadie couldn’t remember, pulled up with their own wagons out of breath, and quite upset.

“She didn’t win! All she did was sit there and be pulled around,” one of them spat, sticking their tongue out at Sadie.

“Yeah, why is she even here anyway? She should be inside with the other tots knitting and doin’ whatever boring thing girls do!”

Sadie, completely shocked by their comments, kept still in the wagon. She looked at her brother and covered her face with her hands, tears welling in her eyes.

“Hey, stop that!” Nathan shouted at his friends. “She has every right to play out here like we do! Come on, Sadie. We’ll find something else to do.” Nathan huffed and began to pull the wagon, with Sadie, back to their house.  

☆☆☆☆

Sadie smiled at the memory. Nathan was always quick to defend her. Part of her wondered if it was hard for Nathan to realize she didn’t really need his defending anymore. Perhaps that’s why he reacted the way he did when he found out about Ben. She was older now; she could fight her own battles, and make her own decisions.

She started to wipe a stubborn speck of dirt on the counter. She didn’t hear the doors of the tavern open.

“Sadie,” Nathan’s voice came from behind. Sadie stopped wiping the counter and turned around to greet her brother with a smile. Folding the rag, she placed it on the counter and faced her brother.

“Nathan, what are you doing here so early?” Sadie asked crossing her arms.

“I’ve come to speak with you,” Nathan answered. His smile was crooked, his blonde hair shining even in the natural lighting of the tavern. Nathan held his tricorn in his hands in front of him, as if he had been caught with something he stole. The look of sadness on his face worried her. Knowing whatever it was couldn’t be good, she took a deep breath.

“What is it, Nathan?” Sadie asked, walking toward her brother.

“It’s—I’m leaving a bit earlier than anticipated. For East Haddam,” Nathan admitted with a deep sigh. “I wanted to tell you before Father did.”

“Oh,” was all Sadie could say. “Oh… well, when?”

“The end of the month,” Nathan replied.

Sadie raised her eyebrows, in an attempt to dry the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes. She smiled brightly for Nathan, although it felt like her heart had been squeezed tightly.

“You get to start your new venture sooner!” She mustered all the lightness she could in her voice, clapping her hands together. She met Nathan’s pained expression with a smile and squeezed his shoulders. “I’m so happy for you, Nathan.”

“I didn’t want to go so early,” Nathan defended, shaking his head. “I wanted to spend the rest of the summer here with you, with Genny…but I must go.”

Sadie felt a lump in her throat form. Why was it, when things always changed in their lives, did Sadie always think back to when they were just kids? Right now, she couldn’t get the image out of her head of Nathan running around with her when she was just seven years old. Their mother yelled at them for playing in the mud. The image of Nathan on his way to Yale in a carriage with their father, for the first time ever. And now, another core memory was forming right before her eyes. Nathan was done with school, done with college, and now what lay ahead was simply the future. The days of them being kids were gone—this was real life now. Sadie didn’t need to be protected anymore, and Nathan didn’t have to do the protecting. Now it was time for them to learn how to navigate their lives, without them being in it all the time.

“This is the most exciting thing you’ve waited for,” Sadie reasoned, tears falling down her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll miss you,” Nathan simply answered, shrugging his shoulders. He wiped Sadie’s tears away and brought her in for a hug, holding her tightly. “’Tis not going to be the same without annoying you here at the tavern.” He smiled. Sadie laughed against his chest and pulled back, wiping her face.

“You better write to me,” Sadie playfully punched his shoulder. “And write to me all your lessons you teach. Maybe even ones you learn, too.”

“Of course, I will,” Nathan affirmed. “I’ll visit as much as I can, at any opportunity.”

“Then good,” Sadie nodded, gathering herself. “Now enough of this sentimental stuff.”

Nathan laughed, putting his tricorn on a nearby table. He offered to help Sadie clean the counter of the bar, which Sadie gladly accepted. The rest of the time he spent there, they talked about what he would be teaching first, and where he would be staying. Nathan spoke of Genny and how they will be working things out. He hopes Sadie will spend time with Genny when he’s gone.

And at least, Ben was here until the end of August.

☆☆☆☆

Ben sat at his desk, sitting quietly as he read through his book on mathematics. Truthfully, it was one of the more boring subjects for Ben. Not because he didn’t like it, but since it came so easy to him, it wasn’t quite exciting. Still, he disciplined himself and told himself to get through just one more chapter.

That’s when Nathan suddenly came inside his room, well, their room, and kicked off his boots and plopped on his bed. Ben chuckled at his friend, closing his book.

Nothing was strange between him and Nathan since he found out. Nathan didn’t appreciate being lied to all this time, but he was glad it was Ben who Sadie had fallen for. He trusted all of his friends, but he didn’t trust all of them like he trusted Ben. He would trust Ben with his life. If he could do that, why wouldn’t he trust him with his very own sister?

“I’m leaving earlier than anticipated,” Nathan told Ben, sitting up in bed. Ben turned around in his chair.

“When?” Ben asked.

“The end of the month,” Nathan answered.

“Christ,” Ben replied, “that’s in a fortnight.”

“I know,” Nathan sighed heavily. “I just told Sadie.”

“Hmm,” Ben remembers feeling weary whenever Nathan would say Sadie’s name, so it’s a foreign feeling for him to not put on a front now. “How did she take it?”

“Well, I suppose. I mean, it’s not the last time we’ll see each other,” Nathan laughed, “I guess it’s just different this time around. I’m not going away for school—this is my career, the rest of my life.”

“A lot of things are different now,” Ben said.

Nathan laughed ironically. He sighed before he spoke his next words.

“Your relationship with my sister is between you and her,” he began thoughtfully, “but please, Tallmadge, I just ask one thing: be kind to her. Look out for her.”

Ben’s mouth went agape. He shifted in his seat so he was fully looking at Nathan.

“My intentions with Sadie are pure. I—she is very, very important to me. I plan to be with her as long as she will let me,” Ben explained.

“Very well,” Nathan considered Ben’s answer. “Well, my next question is, how do you plan to uphold that? When you leave, in August?” Although Nathan couldn’t protect Sadie from everything anymore, that didn't mean he wouldn’t look out for her. He knows how sensitive his sister can be—if Ben were to not remain loyal when he left, Sadie would be upset.

With conviction, Ben stood up from his chair.

“I will write to her every single week. Day, if possible. Wethersfield is not far from New Haven—a day’s travel, which means the mail will come quickly. I will visit as much as I can, and—“

“Okay,” Nathan stood up, meeting Ben’s height. “Understood.”

Ben was nearly out of breath from his ramblings, defending his intentions.

“I don’t take being with her lightly, you must know this, Nathan,” Ben continued. “Especially since you are her brother and my best friend.”

“Forgive me for wanting assurance. Should I remind you I only found out about a few days ago?”

Ben rested his case when Nathan said that. He nodded in understanding.

“I trust you,” Nathan placed his hands on Ben’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “But you must prove it to her.”

“I will,” Ben affirmed. “Absolutely, I will.”

☆☆☆☆

Sadie sat up in her bed, her legs in a criss-cross position, in her nightgown. She had a small candle going by her bedside table. She peered out her window, waiting for Ben’s arrival.

It was half past midnight. Just because their secret was out in the open didn’t mean they couldn’t find other ways to sneak around. Sadie felt giddy. She’d never had someone of the opposite sex come into her room.

Earlier, Sadie put together the chamomile concoction she’s made once before to get her father to sleep heavily. She might’ve felt guilty but her father had been overworking himself lately, and a restful sleep was what he needed, whether he knew it or not.

Sadie saw a figure in the distance, and the closer it got to the tavern, Sadie could confirm that it was Ben. He wore his tricorn hat to cover his face, and a large jacket, and carried his satchel full of notes. Upon seeing him go to the back, Sadie quickly and quietly trotted down the stairs to meet him.

She put a finger to her lips to shush him. He followed her quietly up the steps. When the floor creaked, they froze. After hearing her father’s snore, they continued up the steps and quickly shuffled into her bedroom, where they would be safe.

“Phew,” Sadie exhaled as she shut the door behind her. She smiled at Ben, who shrugged his hat and coat off. “We made it.”

Ben smiled, his golden brown hair messy from the hat. He ran his fingers through his hair to fix it. He let his locks fall loose. He beckoned her over with his arms wide open. Sadie tiptoed to him and fell into his warm embrace, placing her cheek on his chest.

“So,” Ben simply said, “this is your room.”

Sadie pulled back, “Yes. There’s not much going on, but it is quite cozy. Especially when I have something to read.”

Ben’s eyes lit up at the mention of something to read. He briefly let go of her and got out his satchel, opening it up to reveal a large textbook for Sadie. Her eyes widen at the sight of it.

“Good Lord, Benjamin,” Sadie exclaimed. Ben laughed at her reaction. “Is this what you’ll be teaching in Wethersfield?”

“No,” he shook his head, “this is for you.”

“For me?” Sadie repeated. She held the large leather-bound book in her hands. It read Chronology of Ancient Kingdoms by Sir Isaac Newton. It was dated 1728.

“Wow,” she marveled at the book, “why this one? I am grateful for it, but I’m curious the reasoning.”

“Something different,” Ben explained simply. “This isn’t the only one I have for you, but it’s the first one you’ll get.”

“You mean you’ve got more books for me? Where are you getting them from?”

Ben smiled. “My own collection. I won’t have room for them to travel with me when I go. And I don’t know anyone better who will take great care of them, and find them useful, too.”

Sadie was touched. She placed the large book on her desk, running her fingers over the cover.

“And when do you go?” Sadie asked softly, running her fingers over the side of his face now. Ben’s eyes fluttered at her touch. Although she was only in her nightgown, and her hair was down as well, Ben thought she never looked more beautiful, standing in front of him.

“The end of August,” Ben answered.

She pressed her lips together.

��I’ll be a year older by then,” she mused.

Ben nodded in response.

They talked more as they held each other, standing in the middle of her room. Ben twirled one of the front pieces of her hair as Sadie spoke about her plans for the fall with Genny. She listened when Ben told her how his lesson plans were coming along. Good, he had said. He couldn’t wait to show her when they were ready. Sadie shook her head.

“Save it for the letters,” she said rather sadly, without meaning to. Ben furrowed his brows in concern, placing his fingers on her chin.

“I’ll always write you. And I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

Sadie walked past him and faced her bed. She fiddled with her hands. Maybe she was tired, maybe she was anxious, or both. These feelings she’d been hiding away would come about at some point. But, not tonight, she told herself.

Ben was right behind her as if he could read her thoughts. She turned around to look at him again with a sleepy smile. Suddenly, she felt his strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. She placed her hands on his chest, bringing a bit of distance between their faces. Her heart began to beat fast. For a moment, Ben only looked at her behind his own tired blue eyes. He studied her, both their breaths growing heavy the longer they held contact. Suddenly, Sadie forgot what she had been worried about because the intense look in Ben’s eyes made her believe in something. In them.

“You drive me mad, Sadie,” Ben hoarsely whispered, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. Sadie smiled in response. “And you find that amusing,” Ben shook his head. “You don’t understand that I deeply desire you,” Ben confessed in a low voice, his warm breath hitting the cool of her neck. Sadie looked away from him, biting her lip, but the feeling was overwhelming. She was afraid if she looked at him with him looking at her like that, she’d combust right there.

She pulled him by his arms to her bed. She sat down first and had Ben sit next to her. With one leg on the bed and one hanging off, she took both Ben’s hands and held them.

“I’ve never had someone on my bed before,” Sadie confessed.

“It’s all right,” Ben comforted. “We don’t… have to do anything. We can just lay.”

“I want to,” Sadie continued. “I just…I don’t know…” Sadie wondered where her confidence had gone. Just months ago, she practically begged for Ben to touch her intimately and he refused. Now that the moment had presented itself again, she was scared. Perhaps she realized she had more to lose than she realized, once Ben went away. And once again, her worries bubbled on the surface. But when she looked at Ben, who looked so patient with her, her worries were gone.

“Let’s lay,” he suggested, taking her hand and pulling her toward him. He leaned back into her bed, and she nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck.

They would navigate those treacherous waters another time, Sadie thought. It was much more comforting to just be there in bed with Ben, with no expectations and no pressure. She didn’t have to say it. It was written all over her face. Ben knew she wasn’t ready. She’d save herself for him though, because one day, she would be.

[margindoodles2407]

Margin's Zelda Playlists

I am reposting this because I've added like. 50 new songs and deleted at least 10. Call this the ship of theseus i guess

Anyway, these are each their own separate playlist but I have them all on one playlist to save room. :) Enjoy! And if you have any songs that remind YOU of a specific game let me know- I'd love to listen to them, especially if they're related to one of the games with only a few songs on the playlist! All of these songs can be found on Youtube; not sure if you can find them all on Spotify or Apple Music though :(

The Legend of Zelda (the series; also my Pre-Skord Playlist)

Gate of Time/Zelda's Lullaby by HyruleOrchestra

Ballad of the Lonely by trashyinferno

Rule #15: Four Aces by Fish in a Birdcage [EXPLICIT]

This Tragedy of Mine by Knight of Endale

They're Only Human from Death Note: the Musical

Nothing Changes from Hadestown: the Musical

I Lived by OneRepublic

The Call by Regina Spektor

No One Lives Forever by Oingo Boingo

Skyward Sword

Washing Machine Heart by Mitski

When You're Evil by Voltaire (it's a ghirahim mood)

Bruno is Orange by Hop Along

Curses by The Crane Wives

Anchorage by Marian Call

It's Alright by Mother Mother

Ophelia by The Lumineers

Icarus by Bastille

Something I Need by OneRepublic

Minish Cap

Dandelions covered by Bet

All the Small Things by Blink 182 (don't ask me why)

Flowers in my Hair by Wes Reeves

Four Swords

Open Up Your Eyes covered by Daniel Ingram

The Friend You Need from My Little Pony: the Movie (please ignore that these are both from mlp the movie okay. first of all i unironically enjoy mlp and secondly they remind me of shadow)

Ocarina of Time

The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel

Treehouse covered by Eric D

Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons [EXPLICIT]

Small Hands by Keaton Henson

King by Lauren Aquilina

You Don't Get to Know Her Anymore by Pedals on Our Pirate Ships

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths [EXPLICIT]

Emperor's New Clothes by Panic! at the Disco

Providence by Poor Man's Poison

You Turn the Screws by CAKE

Good Night, Demon Slayer by Voltaire

Go the Distance covered by BYU Vocal Point

River from the Sky by The Weepies

Time/Space by Alex G

Keep You Safe by The Crane Wives

Majora's Mask

Turn the Lights Off by Tally Hall

Twin-Sized Mattress by The Front Bottoms [EXPLICIT]

Home by Cavetown

Best Friend by AJJ

Rule #9: Child of the Stars by Fish in a Birdcage

Slow Down by Poor Man's Poison

Listen When You Miss Me by Naethan Apollo

Twilight Princess

Be Nice to Me by The Front Bottoms (the lyrics aren't EXPLICIT but someone does drop an f-bomb in a spoken background track)

Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show

Hell's Coming With Me by Poor Man's Poison

Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier

Sundown and Sorrow by Hank Williams

Hermit the Frog by MARINA [EXPLICIT]

Shadows and Regrets by Yellowcard

When the Wolf Meets the Moon by Confused Crow

Drinking Song by Haley Heyndrickx

Wind Waker

Rule #23: Birds of a Feather by Fish in a Birdcage

Joli Rouge by The Dreadnoughts

Kokomo by the Beach Boys

"That's got to be the best pirate I've ever seen" from Pirates of the Caribbean (yes. the meme. not "He's a Pirate" the song, i specifically mean the meme.)

Rule #28: Sand by Fish in a Birdcage

Stand By You by Rachel Platten

If We Have Each Other by Alec Benjamin

Abandon Ship by Fin Argus

Welly Boots by The Amazing Devil [EXPLICIT]

Captain's Call by Derivakat

Leave Her Johnny by The Longest Johns

Phantom Hourglass

The Flying Dutchman by The Jolly Rogers (i am sorry that the playlist is only 1 song long :'{ )

Spirit Tracks

Stickshifts and Safety Belts by CAKE

Opening Up from Waitress: The Musical [EXPLICIT]

Ghost Grinder by Steam Powered Giraffe

A Link to the Past

Ghosting by Mother Mother

Welcome Home Son by Radical Face (PLEASE give me recommendations i need more songs for my beloved :'{ )

Link's Awakening

Dream Sweet in Sea Major by Miracle Musical

Hidden in the Sand by Tally Hall

Mary by Alex G (there is a clean version please look it up)

Dream a Little Dream of Me by The Mamas and the Papas

Bones in the Ocean by The Longest Johns

Oracle of Ages/Seasons

Shadow Stalker by Mercedes Lackey (again PLEASE i need song recs)

A Link Between Worlds

Mona Lisa by Mxmtoon

Banana Bread by Sarah Maddack

Tri Force Heroes

Fashion by Lady Gaga

Puttin' On the Ritz by Taco

The Hyrule Fantasy

Rule #33: Pyre by Fish in a Birdcage

Fairytale by Alexander Ryback

Parables and Primes by Danny Schmidt

Zelda II: The Adventure of Link

Snow by Ricky Montgomery

Seven by Sleeping at Last

Hyrule Warriors

Villains Aren't Born (They're Made) by PEGGY

The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH CIA MOVING ON

I'll Make a Man Out of You from Disney's Mulan

She's Kerosene by The Interrupters

Ain't No Crying by Derivakat

Burned Out by Dodie (@unclemoriarty I blame you for this one :] )

That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil [EXPLICIT]

Inkpot Gods by The Amazing Devil

Battle Cries by The Amazing Devil

The Fall by Half Alive

Choke by I Don't Know How But They Found Me

Blossoms by The Amazing Devil

Breath of the Wild

House of Memories by Panic! at the Disco

Amnesia Was Her Name by Lemon Demon

The Distance by CAKE

The Cost of the Crown by Mercedes Lackey

The Mute by Radical Face

A Moment Forever Ago from Central Park

Waiting on a Miracle from Disney's Encanto

Rule #31: Calamity by Fish in a Birdcage

Frank Sinatra by CAKE

Seventeen by MARINA [EXPLICIT]

The Family Jewels by MARINA

Expert in a Dying Field by The Beths

Everglow covered by Remedy A Capella

Stella by Cereus Bright

She covered by Rob Wilson

The Horror and the Wild

Tears of the Kingdom

Rule #29: Throne Room by Fish in a Birdcage

Rule #15: Waterfall by Fish in a Birdcage

Pompeii MMXXIII by Bastille

@whyoneartheven

[deathbysatellite]

Capp 1 Household: Week 1 - Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Less than a minute into actual gameplay (after spending ages trying to get my game to read my graphics card), and Juliette is already swooning over Romeo.

While Tybalt is already trying to pick a fight with him.

Hermia tries to hang out with her brother by attempting to play red hands I believe, but Tybalt wasn't interested. This is just the start of him being the least agreeable sibling.

Consort is apparently a pretty lonely dude, because he kept rolling Wants to Make a Friend, and he doesn't even have Popularity as either aspiration.

That evening, much of the Capp clan head downtown.

Surprisingly, they all fit at one table. In addition to our main Capp members, we've also got Goneril, Albany, Cornwall, and Miranda.

The whole family then heads over to Gothier Green Lawns.

While the adults play poker, Tybalt keeps shoving Juliet.

This quickly escalates into Juliette attacking her brother, cementing their relationship as enemies, which has yet to recover.

They fight again once they get home.

Juliette sneaks out that night with Romeo.

When it comes to chance cards, I try to pick the option I think that Sim would go with. Given the history between him and Patrizio, I figured Consort would try to sabotage his president's chances. Unforturnately, this backfired on him, and he lost a whopping 3 logic skill points!

Juliette is having much better luck though, as a random even grants her a charisma point.

The welcome wagon shows up shortly before the teens get home from school, consisting of Waylon Menon, Jace Mackarevick, and Vyn Scott.

Meanwhile, one of the kids (I think Juliette) brings home Juan Harris, who seems to be the first person to get along with Tybalt.

Tybalt and Hermia head out, as Tybalt wants a cell phone.

I don't recall why I sent Hermia with him, but nevertheless, she runs into her crush, Puck Summerdream, and manages to snag her first kiss with him.

Once home, Tybalt calls up Benjamin Long in the hopes of striking up a friendship.

Everyone has apparently decided the best place for catch is the family graveyard. At night.

Thankfully, they all head inside right before Caliban decided to make an appearance.

Cleo, a dog that Juliette adopted, joins the family that night. While that was the name the game gave her, I like to pretend that Juliette named her after her great-great-grandmother, Cleopatra Capp.

Cleo starts off quite the destructive things, and manages to destroy two pieces of furniture in as many days.

Alas, poor chair.

Consort attempts to befriend Cleo, but she is rather slow to warm up to anyone. She's not independent or aggressive, but she just wouldn't accept many positive interactions for a few days.

Out to get more electronics; this time it's a handheld game for Juliette.

Hermia does her best impression of the Not-Things from Doctor Who.

Tybalt continues to antagonize Juliette, and amusingly shoves her through a door.

Apparently all is forgiven once they get back home, in a rare instance of them getting along.

[scotianostra]

On January 21st 1890 the Forth Bridge was first tested when  two 1,000ft long test trains, each comprising a locomotive and 50 wagons, and each weighing 900 tons, rolled onto the newly-built Forth Bridge side by side from the south.

The Forth Bridge was, and indeed, is, an engineering marvel when it opened, and it still carries up to 200 trains a day, a remarkable feat for a bridge over 130 years old!

Ferries had crossed the Firth of Forth to link Edinburgh to the north of Scotland since at least the 12th century. Engineers proposed bridges as early as 1818, and work finally began on a design by Thomas Bouch in the 1870s. That project stopped abruptly after Bouch's Firth of Tay suspension bridge blew down in a gale in 1879 while carrying a passenger train, killing 75 people.

John Fowler and Benjamin Baker submitted a design in 1881 for a cantilever bridge made of modern steel to carry rails across the Forth. Factories were built on site to cut and shape the steel, and a new town housed 4,000 workers.

Three 330-foot towers went up, each atop four separate foundations. The towers cantilevered out toward one another, not quite touching. Machinery hoisted two 350-foot truss spans into place to be supported by the ends of the cantilever arms. Result: two clear spans of 1,710 feet each and a total length of 5,350 feet, not counting the approaches.

The muscular design, with its massive cross-bracing and 58,000 tons of steel, was hailed as a triumph of Victorian engineering on its completion in 1890. Fowler's knighthood was upgraded to a baronetcy, and both Baker and head contractor William Arrol received knighthoods of their own.

But the Forth Bridge was also criticized as expensive (3.2 million pounds, or almost 400 million pound in today's money) and "unnecessarily" strong. One such critic would live to regret his words. Theodore Cooper's design for the Quebec Bridge over Canada's St. Lawrence River used much lighter structural members. It collapsed while under construction in 1907, sending 19,000 tons of steel into the river and killing 82 construction workers.

The Forth Bridge still has the world's second-longest cantilever spans, and trains still run over it every day. It has been called the Forth Rail Bridge after completion of the Forth Road Bridge in 1964.

The Forth Bridge was inscribed as a World Heritage Site by United Nations body UNESCO in July 2015 at its meeting in Bonn, Germany. It becomes Scotland's sixth World Heritage Site and now enjoys the same status as the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China.

[niennandil-me-writes]

Goretober 3: Teeth

[fanfic for @krissinonstop's novella project Benjamin's Wagon. Spoilers for books 1 through 5]

Andrej blinked. “Can you say that again?”

Steph took a deep breath.

“No, just the last part. The important part,” he said before she could repeat her five minute elaboration.

“I got bitten by a vampire.”

Andrej rubbed his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his right hand and resisted the urge to punch another hole in the wall of his motel room. He took some time to find words that would even remotely make sense, and failed. “So... are you a vampire now?”

“Well, not exactly. If my source is correct, I should only turn fully once I drink blood.”

“Uh huh.”

“Human blood, preferably.”

“Hm.” He was too tired for this shit. There was a dead man in his mirror, he had been unethically experimented on not 24 hours ago. “And you are in my room now because...?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Ah.”

That’s how they had ended up here. Andrej sitting up on his bed, a makeshift torniquet around his arm, Steph beside him, holding a knife. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He was too tired for this shit.

“Thanks, Andrej. You’re a really good friend.”

“Yeah, whatever, I just don’t want you to kill me in my sleep,” he said, looking at the knife suspiciously, then at Steph's face, or more specifically her teeth. “And you’re sure it won’t transmit via spit?”

“You should be fine as long as I don’t sink my teeth into you.”

“Should be?”

“You’ll be fine.” Steph waved her hands dismissively, then tilted her head. “It is kind of weird, you know? If vampires need to feed regularly, and everyone who gets bitten turns into a vampire, then wouldn’t the proportion of vampires to food completely skew after a while? Like a predator prey model or something? Logistically, it wouldn’t work out, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t really been thinking about the logistics of vampirism so far,” Andrej said. “Especially because until recently, I didn’t know they were real.”

“And now you’re living with one,” Steph smiled. “How the turns have tabled.”

“It’s how the tables have turned.”

“What?”

“Can you just get it over with?” He had to stop himself from screaming.

“Okay, okay!” Steph put the knife to his arm, while Andrej pretended he didn’t hear her mumbling about flunking biology and hoping she wouldn’t make him bleed out. As soon as the first drop of blood appeared, she went quiet.

“Did you just lick your lips?” Andrej asked.

“Maybe...”

“You just did it again!”

Instead of answering, Steph darted forward and put her mouth around the wound, less like the image of a seductive vampire and more like a snake trying to swallow a football.

Andrej sharply inhaled through gritted teeth as she started drinking his blood. The burning of the wound was replaced by an uncomfortable sucking sensation. He could feel the sharp teeth touching his skin and knew one wrong move by either Steph or him would make those fangs pierce him.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

When Steph didn’t pull away, he pushed against her head. She sat up, blood smeared around her lips like spaghetti sauce on a three-year-old. She pouted. “Do we have to stop already?”

“You said you just needed a little bit!”

“But you taste soooooo good, Andrej. I love sucking you!”

“Can you please not phrase it like that!” Maybe he wouldn’t die from blood loss, but a heart attack instead. This had been a long day. He had been picked up at a bar, tied up, had things shoved down his throat – damn it, now he was doing it, too!

Steph kept pouting. Andrej sighed. “Fine.” What was he saying? Was the blood loss getting to him? He was feeling a bit woozy. Steph literally jumped at his resigned permission, bloody lips twisting in a grin for a second to show off her teeth right before she set her mouth to his arm again.

Andrej sighed. At least she didn’t bite him.

[lyledebeast]

 Reading the meta @malicious-compliance-esq posted earlier this week about the different ways in which William Tavington from The Patriot and Black Jack Randall from Outlander do or do not meet different definitions of sadism was eye-opening. This post gave me a lot to think about and exposes nuances in the meaning of sadism that I had not considered before. But the thoughts that came up the most for me as I read this piece were not so much about sadism as about how The Patriot presents compassion.

This excerpt from malicious-compliance-equ’s meta particularly resonated with me.

“I can’t watch any of this material without getting driven bonkers repeatedly by how the framing of “good and evil” in both universes relies heavily on “if A then B -> if not A then not B” type of thinking. We see this fallacy operating frequently with Tavington’s and Randall’s actions vs. Martin’s and Fraser’s. Specifically, we see a lot of spotlighting of particular actions with cruel consequences—albeit very different motivations with Tavington vs. Randall—taken by the Redcoat characters in each canon. This is well and good in itself; what makes less sense is how Martin and Fraser are framed as automatically good because they didn’t do those specific things.”

In the case of Tavington and Martin, the most obvious particular action with cruel consequences taken by the Redcoat in question is the killing of women and children.  However, there really isn’t a fair basis for comparison here.  Given the movie’s near complete erasure of colonial Loyalists, the main conflict is between Patriots and British soldiers.  The families of Colonel Tavington and his men are protected from militia reprisals less by the morality and self-restraint of Ben Martin and his men than by the Atlantic Ocean.  However, some points of comparison regarding compassion do bear further investigation: Martin’s treatment of his own men vs. Tavington’s treatment of British soldiers and Martin and Tavington’s very different offers of compassion to the opposing side.

A number of these comparisons converge in the series of scenes in which Tavington traps the militia and takes some men prisoner and Martin negotiates for their release with General Cornwallis.  The first scene begins with an exchange in which Martin offers mercy to the young lieutenant in charge of the company protecting British supply wagons, saying that if he and his men lay down their arms, no harm will come to them.  “This is The King’s highway!” the young man shouts as canvas falls from the wagons to reveal . . . more soldiers! For regulars, they certainly share in Tavington’s love of the theatrical. The scene reaches its climax when Tavington and the Green Dragoons come out of hiding, sweeping down the ridge to surround the militia.

The comparison is stark.  This poor lieutenant and his men are being offered up to the militia like the goat in Jurassic Park, but kind-hearted Benjamin Martin has no desire to harm them.  Their lives have more value to him than to their own officers.  A similar comparison is drawn after the negotiation when Martin is about to walk free.  When Tavington recognizes him, all that stops him from going after Martin is General O’Hara’s call to “stay that sword, Colonel!” When O’Hara points out that killing Martin will result in the deaths of the British officers he claims to have in his custody, Tavington reminds him “he’s killed as many officers in the past two months.” While Martin risks his own life to save those of his men, Tavington is willing to sacrifice not only these regulars but also his fellow officers.

An examination of a scene that takes place between these calls that interpretation into question.  Martin seems to hold simultaneously two contradictory positions concerning British officers: one is that they are deserving of compassion, and the other is that they are all culpable in Tavington’s actions.  If his exchange with Tavington’s bait lieutenant illustrates the first, the one with Cornwallis exposes the second.  When Cornwallis raises the issue of the militia targeting officers, citing the need for men of rank to “lead and, if need be, restrain their men,” Martin counters by bringing up attacks on colonial civilians by men led by those very men of rank.  The script treats this as a gotcha to which Cornwallis has no response, but his earlier words bear a closer look.  Martin is talking about Tavington here; there is no evidence in the movie than any other officer is ordering attacks on civilians.  But the scenario Cornwallis describes of an officer restraining his subordinates is exactly what we see happen between him and Tavington earlier in the movie and between O’Hara and Tavington in the next scene.  These British generals do more to protect colonials from Colonel War Crimes than the militia ever does, and it is Martin’s choice to tar all British officers with the same brush that leads directly to that restraint ending.

Tavington, meanwhile, knows who his real enemy is.  He responds to the “madness” of setting Martin free with a reminder that he has already killed officers and will likely go on killing officers if he is not stopped.  Sacrificing the lives of these men could save the lives of unnumbered others.  We see a similar regard for British lives in the first encounter between Martin and Tavington.  One of Tavington’s first orders to the regulars who have swarmed Martin’s farm is to remove the wounded British soldiers from the premises, likely to protect them from Martin’s wrath once his punishments are doled out.  A good call considering that the British officer who is so visibly distressed by carrying out these orders is killed on Martin’s just a few minutes later. It’s hard to take Martin’s complaints about the wickedness of British officers seriously when he is only in a hurry to kill the nice ones!

A fascinating irony of The Patriot is that while Martin’s conflation of all British officers with Tavington goes unchallenged, that Tavington treats Patriot civilians the same way he treats Patriot soldiers is offered to the audience as the ultimate outrage, even though these civilians are far more supportive of Martin’s actions than any British officers are of Tavington’s. Tavington is wholly lacking in any compassion for Patriots; his offers of leniency or forgiveness are deliberate ruses designed to make his job easier. But at least he’s consistent.  I don’t think I can better describe the paradox of Martin’s mercy offers better than I do in this meta, but in addition to being poor writing it’s also darkly funny. 

Martin only offers mercy to British soldiers in scenes that immediately precede Tavington’s arrival, which has the effect of making him look less like a noble hero and more like a cartoon jock physically intimidating a nerd until a pretty girl comes by.  Then it’s “Oh, no, I wasn’t gonna hurt him! He fell.  I was just helping him up, right Ichabod?” Of course, Martin is not expecting Tavington, but the point remains that these instances of offered compassion serve only to grant him moral high ground.  If his compassion was narratively important in itself, someone besides him would benefit from it

Empty gestures aside, Martin’s motives are as practical as Tavington’s.  As we see when he enlists his young sons in his first massacre in the movie, the actual purpose of targeting officers is to create disorganization and panic in the ranks, making the situation less dangerous for the attackers.  The militia are attacking supply trains and not the single regiment that represents an actual threat to civilians because their military objective is keeping the British in South Carolina, not protecting civilians as Martin implies.  Ironically, his offers of compassion have the effect of demonstrating that the British do not deserve it.  If they are going to reject his beneficence in favor of carrying out their orders, what choice does he have but to kill them all?  Perhaps the most unintentionally hilarious aspect of his movie is its insistence that Martin only uses violence as a last resort when his only attempt to use reason instead is wasted on the one British officer as unreasonable as himself.  Truly, he and Tavington deserve each other.

[krissinonstop]

Find the Word game

I got tagged by @elanorniennandil-me for this challenge. The rules are simple - find the word (or something close to it) in a fic/piece of writing (published or WIP) and share the excerpt it's in.

my words are: orange, death, cigarette, tear, mirror

Since I do most of my writing in German, the excerpts will be in German too. Sorry! 

I also won’t tag anyone for the simple reason that I don’t know any people on here. 

Enjoy!

Orange: Zombiestory 2

Auf der Bank gab es keinen Platz, an dem er seine Flügel unterbringen konnte, weshalb er sich nach einigem Zögern vorsichtig auf sie setzte. Sein Gesicht sah aus als wäre er gezwungen worden, nach dem Zähneputzen einen Kanister Orangensaft zu kippen.

Tod: Zombiestory 1

Der Vampir brachte sein Gesicht näher an mich heran, machte ein paar zögerliche Schritte nach vorn. An seinen unsicheren, tastenden Bewegungen erkannte ich, dass er nicht gut sehen konnte. Möglicherweise wusste er nicht einmal, dass jemand mit ihm in der Halle stand. Immer näher kam er mir, schnüffelte und schnaubte, stieß mir dabei seinen fauligen Atem entgegen. Ein Duft in der wundervollen Sorte ›Aas & Tod‹, wie harmonisch. Er konnte beinahe mit mir mithalten. 

Zigarette: Zombiestory 2 (cn smoking, obviously)

»Eigentlich dürfte ich das nicht tun. Ich hoffe, du weißt es zu schätzen.« Zum Vorschein kamen ein, mein, Päckchen Zigaretten und mein Feuerzeug. Mit großen Augen beobachtete ich, wie er eine hervorholte und mir hinhielt. Ich lehnte mich vor und klemmte sie zwischen meine Lippen, dann gab er mir Feuer und ich lehnte mich zufrieden auf dem Sitz zurück. Das hatte ich gebraucht. Keine Freiheit, keine Erlösung. Einfach nur eine Kippe und die Ruhe des leise pfeifenden Windes, der durch das Blattwerk streifte. 

Träne: Benjamin’s Wagon 3 - Goldener Schnitt

Und doch, als er diesem Leben endlich gegenüberstand, hauchte er seines kurze Zeit später aus. Gold hätte geweint, hätte er es gekonnt. Tränen und Tränen an öligen blauen Tränen hatte er geformt, aber es hatte sich nicht so befreiend angefühlt, wie es bei Menschen aussah. 

Spiegel: Zombiestory 1

Schon nach etwa fünf Minuten langweiligen Herumstehens vor dem Spiegel und Anstarrens mehrerer Bonbons schoben sich kleine, weiße Fingerspitzen aus dem Spiegel und wollten nach einem der am Boden liegenden Bonbons greifen. Zu Romeros Vorteil hatte das Wesen jedoch nicht damit gerechnet, wie schnell er sein konnte. Sein Arm schnellte nach vorne wie eine Peitsche und umfasste die Hand des Spiegelspringers in seinem ungeschützten Zustand. »Hab ich dich.«

Das Geschöpf wurde von Romero aus dem Spiegel gezogen und landete in dem Haufen von Bonbons. Verwirrt blickte es auf. »Das war eine Falle, oder?«

»Das merkst du aber früh.«

[eerieonlakeerie]

The Ghost of General ‘Mad Anthony’ Wayne and his Missing Bones

Photos provided by: UnchartedLancaster.com

“Anthony Wayne was an American soldier, officer, and statesman during the Revolutionary War. His daring military exploits and fiery personality quickly earned him a promotion to brigadier general and the nickname “Mad Anthony.”

Wayne is probably the second most frequently sighted ghost on the East Coast. Second only to Abraham Lincoln. He is also the only Pennsylvanian known to have two separate graves, with body parts in both."

"George Washington considered Wayne to be one of the best tactical commanders and military strategists of the Revolution.

Wayne was born on January 1, 1745, near Paoli in Chester county. He received an excellent education and worked as a surveyor for Benjamin Franklin. When the Revolutionary War began, he assembled a militia and became colonel of the 4th Regiment in Pennsylvania. Wayne aided Benedict Arnold and saved Washington’s troops from a massacre at the Battle of Brandywine in September 1777.

Wayne was at Valley Forge during the winter of 1777-1778, where the Continental Army recouped and rested. Wayne led men to more victories when fighting resumed, including a decisive battle at Stony Point along the Hudson River.

After the war, Wayne settled in Georgia on land granted to him for his military service. He briefly represented Georgia in the House of Representatives before returning to the Army to accept command of U.S. forces in the Northwest Indian War. His forces defeated the Western Confederacy, an alliance of several Native American tribes, at the 1794 Battle of Fallen Timbers, and he masterminded the Treaty of Greenville, which ended the war.

Photo provided by: HistoryLink

Two years later, Wayne died on December 15, 1796, in Erie, Pennsylvania, at Fort Presque Isle while on active duty. He was 51.

Following his wishes, Wayne, wearing his uniform, was buried two days after his death in a plain wooden coffin at the foot of the flagstaff of the post’s blockhouse. The top of the coffin bore his initials, age, and the year of his death in brass tacks.

Had it not been for a strange twist of fate, “Mad Anthony” Wayne would have laid there in peace for eternity.

For 12 years, the remains of Wayne remained undisturbed in a plain grave. However, some thought his burial was not fitting for such a great war hero, and in 1809 Wayne’s family decided to bring him home to rest in St. David’s Church Cemetery closer to his home in Radnor Township, not far from Valley Forge.

When Wayne’s son Colonel Isaac Wayne had the coffin opened in Erie, everyone was shocked! Instead of a crumbling pile of bones, they found a body in an excellent state of preservation.

Isaac had come ill-prepared to move an entire body across the state.

A local physician, Dr. James Wallace, came up with a remedy. He suggested they put Wayne’s body in a large vat and boil it to separate the flesh from the bone.

The general’s flesh and clothing were reinterred beneath the blockhouse. Meanwhile, Isaac took his father’s bones in the back of a wagon and made the long 400-mile journey across the state along what is now U.S. Route 322.

This may be hard to believe, but Pennsylvanian roads were even worse in the early 1800s. They were bumpy paths full of rocks, ruts, and tree stumps.

When Isaac finally arrived at the gravesite and attempted to reassemble the skeleton, the family discovered to their horror that several of the bones were missing. It appeared that some of the bones had fallen out of the wagon while making the arduous trip across the commonwealth.

Isaac was greatly distressed by this turn of events and regretted his decision to disinter his father for the rest of his life.

After that, stories began to surface that every New Year’s morning, General “Mad Anthony” Wayne’s birthday, his ghost rises and begins the long journey on horseback from St. David’s to Erie and back in search of his missing bones. People along that route have insisted that a man clad in Colonial garb has been seen riding a horse and stopping if searching for something.

“Mad Anthony’s” ghost has been seen throughout Pennsylvania, including along Route 1 near Chadd’s Ford, where the Battle of Brandywine occurred and at Valley Forge National Park. There have also been sightings in New Jersey, New York, Virginia, and Canada.

Sometimes Wayne is astride his trusty steed Nab, described as possessing fire-flashing hoofs.

Whether alone or on horseback, Wayne’s ghost looks fierce and determined, as though he is still waging battles against the British and Germans.”

Story provided by: UnchartedLancaster.com

[accuratenewsng]

Police Confirm Arrest of Singer Portable Over ‘G-Wagon Debt’

Popular street singer Habeeb Okikiola, best known as Portable, has been arrested by the police for allegedly refusing to pay the balance of a G-Wagon vehicle he purchased from a car dealer. The singer was arrested on Tuesday in the Abule Egba area of Lagos, police spokesman in the state, Benjamin Hundeyin, told Channels Television. “Portable was arrested in the Abule Egba area of Lagos on…