#but i think my mother has accepted that eventuality if it's a french film i offer to put on lololol

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

Mom actually watched L'Honorable Catherine w me and she didn't hate it WOW

[n00dl3gal]

Like Old Times (Father-Son Bonding AU)

A direct sequel to the “Expiration Date” fic, which I’ll link in a reblog. I’ve also posted all my fics in this AU to AO3!! Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for their help and just generally being a cool dude, and the Scoutsune Discord server for indulging my brainrot

No warnings beyond family schmoop!

Less than an hour after the bread monster incident, the Administrator called for a ceasefire. “Only while your base is repaired,” she said over the TV screen. “BLU is quite disappointed in this negligence- as am I. Regardless, you may use these three days as you see fit. Go home, stay here- whatever you do, no more bread monsters.” The screen turned off with a click. 

Scout exhaled through his nose. He was thankful there was no mention of him or Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

Spy decloaked behind him. “Less time than I wanted, but c’est la vie.” Scout looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with an old contact during our break,” Spy said in Italian. “Would you like to come along? It’ll be like old times.” 

Scout’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. At least this way, he’d get out of helping Engie and Heavy with repairs. And possibly meeting Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

“Excellent. Our flight is at 7 AM tomorrow.” 

“We’re flying commercial?” Scout asked, also in (more hesitant) Italian. 

“Our destination is continental. We’ll leave the base by 5:30.” Scout groaned as Spy started to leave. But- wait, he hadn’t- 

“Oi, where are we going, anyway?” he called back in English. 

Spy paused to look at him and smile. “Boston.” 

“Why do we always get the ass-crack-of-dawn flights?” Jeremy asked groggily, reclining his seat.

“They are the ones with first-class seats available,” Raphael replied. He took a sip from his mimosa. 

“Yeah, cuz God forbid you fly coach for once.” Jeremy shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Hey. Have I ever been to Boston before?”

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His lip sucked in, as if in thought. “Yes. When you were very, very young. You wouldn’t remember.” 

Jeremy nodded. He wanted to ask more, there was something Raphael wasn’t saying but… well, he was never a morning person. He fell asleep before the plane even took off. 

. . .

It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed in Boston. Jeremy was never fond of long flights; having his legs cramped like that for extended periods of time was murder. He was half tempted to take a jog around Logan International. Raphael, on the other hand, was ushering them both to the car rental. “Can’t even get a stretch in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we are expected by 4, and I would hate to keep my contact waiting,” Raphael explained in French, accepting the keys from the girl at the counter. “She’s not a very patient woman, in some regards.” 

Jeremy huffed but didn’t argue. He just followed his father to the rental, tossing his suitcase in the backseat. “Y’know, the girl at the counter-” 

“We will not have time for you to go out on a date, Jeremy.” 

“No! No, it was- her accent’s kinda like mine, it’s weird,” Jeremy said. Raphael started the car. “Cuz I’ve only been here as a baby, and I got mine from TV and shit. It’s just… really strange, is all.” 

Raphael made a quiet noise of agreement. “Some of the shows you watched as a child were filmed here. It’s not as complex as you think it is.” 

“Yeah, probably not…” 

The pair lapsed into silence as Raphael drove. Storefronts and high rises morphed into houses. It had been a while since they were in a residential area. RED, for understandable reasons, kept away from civilians. 

Raphael took the roads with practiced experience. Sure, it had been implied he knew the area. If he had a contact here- one with a house, presumably- he must’ve spent time here. But this- this was far too familiar. A bit suspicious, actually. 

Eventually, Raphael slowed in front of a more rundown Brownstone. Still quite nice, just needed a little work. It felt… welcoming, in a way Jeremy couldn’t name.

“Lotta cars,” he observed as Raphael parallel parked. “Must be a party going on somewhere.” 

“Hmm, perhaps,” Raphael said, turning the car off. “Would you mind ringing the doorbell for me? I need to grab something from the trunk. Ask for Sara Jane.” 

OK, now Jeremy knew something was up. He was never the one to make the first contact, that was always Dad’s job. Jeremy might be a full-grown adult, but there were some things that didn’t change. This was one of them. 

Still, he nodded. He climbed up the front steps and ringed the doorbell. He heard- multiple voices from inside, predominantly male, but they quickly silenced themselves. A TV, perhaps? They really ought to get that flower box on the second story window fixed- 

The woman who opened the door was a bit shorter than him, though not by much. She was wearing a simple dress, hoop earrings, and flats. Her hair was dark, curved to her chin. But her nose and earlobes felt… achingly familiar. Like Jeremy saw them all the time. 

“Um, hi, I’m looking for Sara Jane? My name’s-” The rest of his speech was knocked out of him as the woman launched herself at him. Jeremy braced for an attack, but quickly realized she was… hugging him. 

She was hugging him, sobbing, and choked out the word “Jeremy.” 

Wait. He knew that voice. He had only heard it a few times in his life, few enough he could count them on one hand, but he knew it. “M-Ma?” he whispered. 

The woman- Sara Jane- Ma looked up at him, still crying. Her hands found his face as she observed him. “Y-yeah, sweetie, it’s me, it’s-it’s your ma,” she said. 

“Ma!” he laughed, tears of his own dancing down his cheeks. He hugged her back, practically lifting her off her feet. “Oh my God, Ma! I-I never thought I’d-” 

“Oh Jeremy, sweetie, look how tall you’ve gotten! Last I saw you, you fit in my arms! My baby, my handsome baby,” she spoke over him. She rubbed circles into his back as they embraced. It felt so, so right. 

Jeremy laughed even harder. “Are you kiddin’? I got it from you, you’re beautiful, Ma!” He stared at her, trying to commit every mole and wrinkle and perfect flaw to memory. “I can’t believe- oh my God, I’m actually meeting you!” 

“It was long overdue,” another voice said, as Raphael joined them on the front stoop. “I had put it off for safety reasons, but considering our current, ah, situation… I felt it was worth the risk.” 

Sara Jane squealed, pulling Raphael into the hug as well. “You’ve been taking good care of my boy, you promise me, Raphael?” 

“Don’t worry Ma, he’s the best dad I could ask for, considering,” Jeremy teased. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. Called me up last night and told me to get the whole motley crew together. Even managed to get Melvin to bring his twin daughters, bless his wife’s heart,” she explained. 

Jeremy blinked. “Uh- Melvin? Daughters?”

Sara Jane laughed. It sounded so much like Jeremy’s it practically hurt. This was his mother. Lord, he’s finally seeing her. “Melvin’s your older brother, sweetie. Eh, sixth oldest. Bobby’s the oldest.” 

“I have a brother?”

“Oh honey, you’re the youngest of eight,” Sara Jane said plainly. 

“...fuck,” Jeremy whispered. 

. . .

He didn’t just have seven brothers. He had seven brothers, four of which brought their wives, one who brought his boyfriend, and three who brought their kids. And the kids totaled to an additional six, counting the babies. 

It was… an admittedly tight squeeze in the living room. 

Sara Jane introduced Jeremy. Jeremy had been expecting to be treated like a stranger. He had vanished when he was a baby, after all, and his younger-older brothers probably wouldn’t remember him at all. 

And yet, it was like he knew them all his life. 

They teased him and punched him playfully and acted so friendly, so familial it nearly made Jeremy break down. He was still crying from meeting Ma, but being dogpiled with so much affection was suffocating. In a good way. He had seen on sitcoms the intrinsic bond between family, and while he felt it with Dad, they also risked their lives nearly daily. But it was real, it was here, and it was wrapping him in a warm blanket. 

Despite the chaos and the sheer number of people, Jeremy didn’t feel overwhelmed. He laughed and played along with their jokes, cracking some back when he could get a word in. Scott ragged on his dog tags, he countered by pointing out the hole in his pants. Michael told him he was still a shortass, he replied with “it takes one to know one.” Elliot and Ricky were the closest to actually getting hurt, and that was only because Jeremy elbowed them both so hard they nearly fell over. 

For the first time in 25 years, Jeremy understood what “home” meant. 

The kids were especially curious, eager to meet their uncle and step-grandfather. Within seconds, young Rebecca- only four years old- was challenging Jeremy to a race around the house. “I’m the fastest kid in the world,” she bragged, puffing out her chest. 

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy asked. “That a fact?”

“You wanna test me? I beat Johnny Three-Legs at running, and he’s got three legs!” Jeremy laughed and stood from the couch, letting her lead him outside. “On the count of three, OK?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jeremy teased.

“Onetwothree GO!” Rebecca yelled, taking off in a sprint. Jeremy knew that, by all accounts, he should beat her. His legs were longer, she didn’t have the proper running stance, and it was his job to be fast. That’s what he got paid to do. But some small voice was telling him to let her win, so he did. “Ha! I told ya!” 

“Ya sure did,” he replied, mock panting. “Look at you, a freaking blur on the green. You’re goin’ to the Olympics, kid.” 

Rebecca beamed and hugged his leg. “Promise, Uncle Jeremy?” He nodded because, after that display, there was no way he could speak without squeaking like a chew toy. 

Rebecca skipped back inside, past Raphael, who was watching on the stoop. “You’re a natural with children,” he observed. “I used to do the same thing when you were that age.” 

“Wait- wait, really? You sure fooled me,” Jeremy said. 

Raphael rolled his eyes. “What’s my job again, mon lapin?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jeremy leaned against the railing, watching Raphael’s cigarette smoke in the wind. “Hey. Uh… thanks for arranging all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“But I did. I meant it when I said this was overdue. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while, but have been unable. Then that whole ordeal with the supposed tumors, and-” Raphael exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you if you died without knowing them. I would’ve never forgiven myself.” 

Jeremy punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, pops. It all worked out, we’re still kicking, and that roast chicken Ma’s making smells incredible. Everything’s perfect.” 

Raphael finished his cigarette and smiled. “Oui. It is.” 

. . .

While Sara Jane had been able to get the rest of the family here, it was a school night. Kids needed to be tucked in by 9:30, so most of Jeremy’s brothers were gone by 8. Elliot was staying overnight, as was his boyfriend. Otherwise, the house quickly went from bustling to barren. 

It gave Jeremy a chance to explore his would-be childhood home.

He made his way upstairs, pushing open one of the doors. It led- to little surprise- to a bedroom. It was set up like a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a toddler bed in the other. Toys were scattered about across the floor. 

He heard Sara Jane sigh behind him. “This was your room, you know.” Jeremy turned to look at her as she flipped the light switch. “That crib… I had put you to bed the night your father planned to fake his death. I was in on the whole plan, naturally. He wanted to hold you one last time, so I said OK. When I woke up the next morning… you were both gone.” She exhaled slowly, grabbing onto his shoulder. “I wrote both of you off as dead, but I knew what had happened. Honestly, should’ve figured it out before then. You hadn’t woken me up crying,” she joked. Her eyes were watering. 

Jeremy hugged her, pulling her close. “You never took the crib down?” 

“By the time I was ready, Bobby’s wife was pregnant, so I kept it up for my grandbabies. I knew- I knew you were out there, sweetie. Both of you.” She kissed his cheek, squeezing him.

“I-I never got to be a normal kid, really,” he confessed. “I mean, Dad did his best, gave me comic books and board games and stuff, but-but I never went to school or made friends or anything like that. I-I didn’t even know I had a family. It took me forever to even realize I had a Ma. An-and everything I did-” The tears were flowing again, more freely than earlier. “Ya missed me losing my first tooth, and potty trainin’, and all that stuff parents should know about. I-I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Sara Jane wiped his cheek dry. “Don’t apologize for what your father did, Jeremy. And definitely don’t apologize for me not potty training another kid. Besides… hold on, I’ll be right back.” She made her way down the hallway. Jeremy didn’t follow, instead deciding to examine the crib. This was where he grew up. It was a simple crib, obviously well-used. Not worn-down, mind, just… used. It had a history. A history that Jeremy wanted to decode, but unlike his dad’s ciphers, he didn’t have the key. 

“Took me a second to find it,” Sara Jane said. She handed him what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Raphael- he wrote when he can. Taught me some basic codes, would send out letters whenever you’d leave a town. Never left a return address, but…” Jeremy flipped through the pages, moving to sit on the small bed. The letters were all coded but appeared to be about how much Raphael missed Sara Jane. Updates on Jeremy’s growth. Letters from a father to his lover and son’s mother. 

One page jumped out to him, though. “I remember this,” he said, running his fingers against the paper. It was a simple drawing of a young boy, holding a catcher’s mitt, and a taller man next to him. “I drew this after Dad took me to my first baseball game, for my eighth birthday. I thought I lost the drawing after we skipped town, but- he sent them to you?”

Sara Jane nodded. “And I kept them all. Oh, honey, the day I first heard your voice on the phone- Mikey can tell you, I damn near fell over. You sounded so happy, and even if I couldn’t see you, that’s all a mother wants.” Jeremy leaned against her and she shut the book. “That’s all a mother wants, sweetie. To see her kids be safe and happy.” 

“I am, Ma,” he assured her. “I promise.” 

They sat like that for a while, with Sara Jane commenting on various letters and drawings in the scrapbook. Apparently, Raphael sent her money when he could- more frequently now that Mann Co. paid so well. She also had a rough idea of their current occupations. “I figure, if you and your father are working for the same company- with his skills, there’s gotta be a whole lot of nonsense going on out in that desert.” Jeremy laughed at that because she wasn’t wrong. “But I also figure since he raised you right, he’ll keep the both of you safe.” 

“I keep him safe too, don’t worry,” Jeremy added. “Uh- listen, it’s touching and all you kept the crib, but I don’t have to sleep in it, right?” 

They both had a good chuckle over that. Their laughs were in perfect harmony. 

. . .

The next two days were a mix of learning the family history and exploring Boston. It was the offseason, so there weren’t any games going on at Fenway, but Jeremy still got a picture in front of the park. Sara Jane took the pair to a restaurant that served “the best damn clam chowder in the contiguous United States.” Which, incidentally, led them to discover Jeremy was allergic to clams. Thankfully they didn’t have to go to the hospital- he just sort of immediately got sick before it passed- but it did suck.

It was damn good chowder, though. 

They went down to the harbor where the Boston Tea Party happened. It was crowded with people, resulting in them not staying long. Jeremy was a bit better with crowds than Raphael, but neither was great with them. Came with the job. Getting overpriced memorabilia from a nearby gift shop, though, went over much more smoothly. 

When not out on the town, Sara Jane dug out more scrapbooks and photo albums, catching Raphael up on what his stepsons had been up to. She showed Jeremy pictures from Ricky’s first school play to Scott opening up his butcher shop. Graduation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures- it was all there, and Jeremy devoured it. He wanted to know these people. He wanted to know his family. And he did. He learned about Michael’s stint in the Navy, Melvin meeting his wife, how Bobby’s son could dribble a basketball for twenty minutes straight. He learned about how his parents met. How Raphael loved each of Sara Jane’s children, even if they weren’t biologically his. How Jeremy wasn’t planned- few of the kids were - but they were both so, so happy to realize he was coming. 

He also learned that, while diner food would remain the undisputed king, homemade meatloaf came pretty close. 

. . .

The only problem came when it was time to leave. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t want to return to work, or leave his Ma behind. Sara Jane wasn’t even torn up over losing her son and lover again. It just felt like there was so much left to say, to do. There was uncertainty as to when they’d be able to return. “We get time off for Smissmas, I know that’s months away but I’ll be here, I promise,” Jeremy swore, hugging Sara Jane for the eighth time. 

“You better,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You have 25 years worth of gifts to catch up on, not to mention birthday gifts-”

“Ma, you don’t have to go that far,” he whined. He was touched, sure, but the thought of that much luggage was truly frightening. Oh God, he was going to have to get gifts for everybody, wasn’t he? What do kids even want for Smissmas? 

“Hush, let me spoil my baby,” Sara Jane told him, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Jeremy…” 

Jeremy nodded. “I know, but I’ll call. I’ll write, too. Send pictures if I can.” 

“I’ll make sure he does,” Raphael assured her. Sara Jane stood to kiss his lips, with Jeremy looking away pointedly. “You have my word, ma petite chou-fleur.” 

“Alright, alright- now get going, I don’t want you two missing your flight. That boss of yours sounds like she’ll tear you both a new one if you’re late,” Sara Jane said, shooing them away. “Love you boys!” 

“I love you too, Ma!” Jeremy shouted back, for the very first time. 

The drive back to the airport was quiet. Jeremy stared out the window, watching his hometown- he had a hometown- pass by. “Hey, dad?” he asked, still looking outside. Raphael grunted to acknowledge he was listening. “One of these days, our contracts with Mann Co. are gonna expire. We’re gonna have to find new jobs.” 

“Yes, that’s correct,” Raphael said. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. 

“And-and I was thinking when that time comes… maybe we could come back to Boston. Find some gigs out here,” Jeremy suggested. 

Raphael sighed. “Unfortunately, being a spy means that you don’t have the option of retiring, Jeremy. Not until you’re unable to complete your job. At that point, though, you’ve probably died a dozen times over,” he explained. “Even if I could retire, settling down somewhere so close to people I care about- I would still have enemies.” 

“Right. ‘Course,” Jeremy said. “It’s OK.” 

“That being said,” Raphael continued, “you have the luxury of youth and not being tied down to such a career. If you want to find a job in Boston after we finish with RED, there’s nothing stopping you.” 

“But people will still be after me, since I’m your son. And you wouldn’t be around.”

“Every child leaves their parents someday. And you’re strong, Jeremy. You can protect yourself and your family.” Raphael smiled. “I don’t believe Sara Jane needs much protecting, but I do worry.” 

Jeremy laughed. “I mean, did ya see the muscles on Scott and Michael? Guys can probably bench press a tractor!” 

They both chuckled before settling into quietude. Eventually, though, Jeremy had to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, mon lapin.”

“...so your nickname for Ma is fucking ‘little cauliflower?’ What the hell, Dad?” 

[kiruuuuu]

Protection Mountain: The Finale⛰️

Yes. It is here.

Montagne/Bandit conquered my heart so quickly with what was meant to be a oneshot, then turned into a small series of oneshots, and ended up as my longest series in Siege. And now their main story is coming to an end. I would like to thank absolutely everyone who participated in this journey, be it through direct messages, magnificent art, shared ideas, comments, reblogs, likes, the simple act of reading and enjoying - you helped make this happen, you motivated and encouraged me. Thank you for falling into this bottomless hole with me 💖

A special thank you goes out to @ekhap, who commissioned this piece in the first place - without you, it’s likely I never would’ve written it. I’m so happy you enjoyed it, and I hope all of you who stuck around long enough to read this will too.

I have actually managed to post the entire series on AO3 as well, so you can comfortably read (or re-read) it here!! And without further ado, here is the final chapter of Protection Mountain. (Rating T/M, hurt/comfort + a ridiculous amount of fluff, ~8.5k words)

.

“I’m leaving tomorrow”, says Madeleine, voice soft and always a reprieve from the harsh reality of the hospital room around them. “I don’t think coming back will be necessary this time.”

Montagne squeezes her hand, making her smile.

She’s been juggling family and career for her entire life and right now is no different: on slower or off days, she hops on the train to visit, taking the opportunity to report on some local stories on the way, utilising her travel time to write up or edit her pieces. A busy bee, always worried about being overshadowed by her older brother. They haven’t seen each other this much for years and though the occasion could be merrier, Montagne is fiercely grateful for her presence. He’s unloaded some of his worries onto her and she onto him, and somehow they ended up lighter than before. Tourés tend to stick together, given the opportunity.

“Why do you say that?”

“You might not realise, but you’re looking much better, Gilles. You’ll be let loose on the world again soon.”

They exchange a quick grin over her choice of words. She’s certainly more of a menace to society than he is, and they both know it.

Next to her, Lion is sitting in a second chair, rigid. He’s confessed to Montagne in private that Madeleine reminds him of his mother – whatever that might entail – and so he’s unfailingly awkward around her, probably ruing the fact that they happened to drop by at the same time today. Dealing with strangers isn’t usually a problem for him; dealing with family of friends, however, is.

Apparently, Bandit won Madeleine over immediately, surprisingly enough. She says it’s his horrific German accent whenever he attempts to speak French and his deadpan humour, but Montagne is relatively sure she senses a bit of how much Bandit cares for him. Tourés are also protective of each other, siblings even more so. She wouldn’t have told him a thing about Montagne’s current condition if she hadn’t thought his worry genuine.

And then, out of the blue: “Cathérine called me.” She still sounds conversational, but her gaze becomes a tad more attentive.

Montagne stills.

Lion’s gaze is jumping back and forth between them, the man even more uncomfortable now.

It’s the last person he expected Madeleine to mention, so he needs a second to compose himself. “What about?” He tries to search for emotions, for any kind of reaction to encountering his wife’s – ex-wife’s name, but comes up empty. It’s like hearing about an old, lost friend of his: someone who once used to be important enough to be mentioned in his will, now someone who barely counts as a remnant in his thoughts.

“You, of course. Maman tattled and, eventually, it reached her. She wanted to know how you are and whether contacting you directly is a good idea.”

“And your reply?”

“I said I’d ask you.”

He nods, thankful. During their divorce, too many people presumed what would be best for either side instead of addressing them directly. It didn’t feel like their own private business anymore, somehow it affected everyone and so everyone was entitled to an opinion and a listening ear. He appreciates Madeleine allowing him this kind of control. “I don’t think she has my current number. Please give it to her and let her know I’d be happy to talk.”

And that’s that. They kiss cheeks and do a half-hug, exchange verbal pleasantries which are nonetheless heartfelt, and then she and her mild perfume are gone, leaving behind a slightly relieved-looking Lion.

“You do look a lot better, you know”, he confirms Madeleine’s earlier assessment, and though he seems intent on changing the topic – for him, family is still a sore topic most days –, Montagne’s mind lingers. Vague memories form a blurry whole, the image so distant it may well originate in a film he once saw or a book he once read.

Catou used to be his entire world and there were days he was convinced he couldn’t go on if she were to leave him. Yet time, the wound-healer, sometimes corrodes instead – and in their case, it must’ve mistaken their passion and devotion for sickness, for it cured them. They noticed before comfort turned into indifference, but only barely. By the time they decided on breaking up, another man was involved as well, though Montagne assigns him no blame whatsoever. Until their divorce was finalised, Catou kept her friend at arm’s length and he never even attempted to get any closer; but while she didn’t allow herself to fall in love again until Montagne openly gave his blessing, he could see the seeds growing already.

Neither of them cheated, he knows this for a fact. They’d never. He noticed how she became aware of the possibility of being with another man after a few of their long talks which denoted the beginning of the end, and while it hurt, he vowed not to stand in her way. If he couldn’t support her, he at least didn’t want to hinder her.

What hurt the most wasn’t any misguided feeling of betrayal or even jealousy, no. It was the realisation that he simply didn’t suffice. He gave her his everything and it turned out it wasn’t enough.

Maybe this is why he won’t accept Bandit’s proposal: the creeping fear of committing fully and finding it to have been in vain.

“You never spoke about her.” His friend has indubitably noticed his mood by now, or maybe the lack of response gave it away.

He supposes he hasn’t. Neither to Bandit nor to Lion, actually, not even when the topic had strayed to Claire and Alexis. “There isn’t much to say”, he summarises well over a decade of companionship, eroded and erased slowly by the very thing which tainted it in the first place: time apart. “We fell in and then out of love. She was a remarkable woman. She deserves someone who can keep up with her.”

Lion fidgets a little, avoids eye contact. Montagne’s words might’ve struck a chord but he’s too exhausted, too restless to talk it out. Madeleine’s statement has given him hope that he can leave soon, leave Bandit’s birthplace behind, hopefully to return and make happier memories in the future.

His friend’s next question catches him off guard. “Why did you marry her?”

It’s so much out of character for him to ask that Montagne needs a few seconds to come up with a reply. “I loved her, with all my heart. I expected to spend the rest of my life with her. Why do you -”

“Then why are you saying no to him?”

Montagne stares, shocked. The slight petulant undertone, the hint of defiance, the blunt accusation – Bandit himself could’ve posed the question, and it’s not for the first time Montagne realises how alike the two of them really are. But what leaves him utterly dumbstruck isn’t the implication of Lion approving of a marriage between them, no, it’s the fact that he can’t come up with a reasonable answer.

At least not one which doesn’t sound like an excuse.

He must’ve realised the impact his words have left behind, so Lion swiftly changes topics yet again, allowing for Montagne to recover and respond to a few simple inquiries, but nothing really manages to soften the blow.

.

~*~

.

There’s a reason he chose le Roc over more modern, flashier, possibly more efficient alternatives.

When he was younger, he used to hide his height by slouching, felt embarrassed by the fact that he’d stick out due to something he neither chose nor controlled – as a tall, muscular man, he’s perceived as intimidating or, worse, a challenge. He reacted to mentions of his physique with sheepish smiles and laughed it off when people referred to his ability to beat up whomever he liked, portraying it as enviable.

It took him a while until he began seeing his build as an advantage. It took friends confessing they felt safe with him around. Acquaintances appreciating his company during the dark. His soon-to-be wife admiring his drive to put his stature to good use. Ultimately, it influenced first impressions only, a quick glance upwards, but as soon as people heard him speak gently, noticed his aversion to unnecessary violence, be it verbal or otherwise, they forgot about his impressive physique immediately.

Like le Roc, it’s a shield. He utilises his own body to protect others and has subconsciously done so his entire life, be it to separate his little sister from her bullies, friends from aggressors, or even two agitated strangers: he absorbs the blows which to him are no more than light punches whereas they could cause more harm on their intended victims. He’s been likened to a mastiff and their instinctual drive to break up fights by simply standing in the way.

Like le Roc, it’s an asset. And like le Roc, it can get damaged.

What he hadn’t realised is just how much he relies on his body to function exactly the way he needs it to.

His life is his job, they’re irredeemably intertwined, and imagining one without the other is … nigh impossible. His mind struggles to come up with alternatives – helping others is in his essence, but picturing himself working in a nursing home maybe or a school, a community centre, is madness to him. Catou had been very involved in these kinds of projects, volunteered wherever there was a need, and while he saw the good she did, the joy she spread, she had a certain soft touch he simply lacks.

He’s a mountain. He can kill and besiege and protect and recover and rescue, but the thought of being responsible for children not his own, or the well-being of elderly people, terrifies him. A small mistake, a brief distraction could prove fatal. He’s trained for combat.

.

He needs to recover.

.

Sometimes, he wakes up and can’t feel his limbs. He hasn’t stood on his own two legs for who knows how long. Movement hurts, lying down hurts, existence hurts. But what hurts most is the prospect of never returning to the work he’s destined for.

No one is allowed to catch a glimpse of his frustration as he feels it’s ungrateful, possibly even malicious. Not only should he be elated over having survived at all, it would also imply he regrets having taken the actions he did, and nothing could be further from the truth. Saving Lion was inevitable; he just wishes he could’ve gotten away with less serious injuries. He wishes so fiercely. Bottling up his anger is destructive and being fully aware of how irrational his behaviour is merely continues the spiral of negativity, yet he’s powerless to change it. The people closest to him are still processing the shock of almost losing him and don’t need the added burden of his dread for his own future.

He wonders whether Bandit is repulsed by him. Aside from his atrophied muscles, he’s lost weight, there are the burns which will likely mark his body for the rest of his life, another ugly scar on one thigh where he’s been stitched up. His skin is discoloured in multiple places and he vividly remembers the way Madeleine winced when she visited him the first time. He already doesn’t consider himself overly attractive, so he must seem frightening. It doesn’t help that Bandit distanced himself the way he did at first – though it was likely the shock affecting him still.

Recently though, his lover has been doing much better. He’s been doing amazing, actually: when Bandit isn’t visiting him, he’s out and about, meeting with friends from the GSG9, eating at exotic restaurants, working out, keeping himself entertained. He keeps messaging Montagne, sending photos of dogs he meets or particularly tasty dishes they need to cook together (or rather attempt to), and every line of text lightens his heart. Bandit even keeps Six and Blitz up to date, informing Doc of Montagne’s condition unprompted, and converses with Madeleine as best he can. Of course, there are bad days sprinkled in now and then, days on which his gaze is endless and unfocused, days on which Bandit is either taciturn or won’t stop talking about unrelated things so Montagne can’t ask him how he’s doing. Recovery isn’t fast or linear, Montagne knows this.

He’s so goddamn proud nonetheless.

And even though seeing Bandit flourish, having watched him pick himself back up and carry on where he left off, witnessing the man he loves with all his heart succeed over this void in his chest once again causes Montagne’s chest to swell in pride and adoration, there’s a bitter note to it. An out-of-tune note, a scratchy, unpleasant one. Because Montagne believes he knows the reason for Bandit’s sudden motivation to improve his existence. And it’s not for its own sake, not for Bandit’s own benefit alone.

Montagne remembers stewing in his own thoughts, fighting the urge to call himself useless, agonising over what might become of him, and there’s no way Bandit didn’t catch him wiping his face when he burst into the room that one day a while back. He must’ve noticed how red Montagne’s eyes were, unusually red. He must’ve realised how fucking weak Montagne is. And probably decided it was his turn to take care of his love.

The next day, Bandit announced having joined a local gym for the time being, as well as his intention to watch a film by himself later. It can’t be a coincidence.

.

There’s nothing worse for Montagne than being a burden.

.

~*~

.

Bandit’s energy is enviable. It seems he’s attempted to prepare for every scenario imaginable: he’s washed all of Montagne’s clothes, bought a variety of snacks and pastries, piled magazines on the bedside table, purchased all kinds of toiletries and remedies including a remarkably well-stocked first aid kit, arranged lush-looking fruits on the small desk of their hotel room, and even produces ear plugs and a sleeping mask the moment Montagne mentions feeling vaguely tired.

It’s hard not to get swept up in the atmosphere his lover creates, especially when his own chest seems unusually light compared to the weeks prior – he’s elated to be discharged from the hospital, even if all kinds of other worries creep up on him during moments of quiet. Being able to return home is a wish he harboured without realising: he thought all he needed was distance from the very place that so consciously reminds him of his own frailty, but it turns out privacy and a new environment don’t suffice, not even close. Sharing a space with Bandit and Bandit only is an immense improvement, yet he longs to sleep in his own bed, feel like he belongs instead of being a perpetual guest. Still, he’s grateful for the spacious hotel room, some peace and quiet, and the assurance that no one is going to randomly check up on him anymore.

Except for Bandit, of course.

Maybe it was Madeleine’s comment which inspired him, or maybe he hadn’t realised how much he’d recuperated already, but once his sister had bidden farewell, his condition improved fast. It culminated two days ago, when Bandit entered his room to find him awkwardly holding on to the bed frame but standing, fully upright with no outside help, due to his own strength. He half expected to be scolded, though his weakness must’ve taken its toll on Bandit as well because all he did was burst into tears from happiness.

Montagne very nearly joined in.

Six arranged a flight directly once she received the message, paid for a wheelchair without batting an eye and ordered him to take it easy nonetheless. His leg will take a while to heal and the broken ribs forbid the use of crutches, so Montagne dutifully agreed and thought he could hear her smiling over the phone. He missed her curt, professional yet caring attitude, and it seemed she’d be glad to see him again as well.

All of which is why he’s allowed to spend his last night in Germany’s capital in the very same hotel room he occupied before it all fell apart. The life before tastes like honey, sweet and much too rich, thick in his throat and welding his mouth shut: how much he took his health for granted baffles him. How careless he was. How ungrateful. He longs to get back to lazy evenings with an oversized cat purring on his chest, to the chaos of messing up yet another recipe, their light-hearted bickering, not a care in the world. He’s desperate to return to it, without that creeping feeling of guilt over turning Bandit down for a mixture of sentimental, inadequate reasons he can’t even explain to himself. He lacks the words to express why the image of swapping rings or – heaven forbid – inviting his entire family to a big ceremony fills him with nothing but dread when instead he should be exuberant. Flattered, maybe.

“Do you want to shower?”

Bandit reminds him of a puppy, easily distractible and well-meaning, radiating pent-up energy. Montagne regrets having to refuse him anything. “No, I’d rather just read a bit and sleep. I can shower at home tomorrow.”

His lover very nearly pouts. “Are you saying I have to find another excuse to touch you all over?”

Montagne’s chuckle almost gets stuck in his throat. He’s not ready yet and has been racking his brain for reasons why they can’t sleep in the same bed, or why he won’t be able to undress at any point. He’ll have to deal with this eventually, but his foolish mind has convinced him he’ll be able to postpone it indefinitely if only he manages to use his injuries as a pretext.

If he wasn’t so fucking terrified, he’d call himself childish.

There’s no doubt Bandit has made an effort to tidy up the room, yet there are unmistakeable traces of his prolonged stay everywhere – the overflowing suitcase, tissues poking out from under furniture, too many cables for too many electronic devices carelessly strewn about. Housekeeping probably gave up after two weeks and resigned to only vacuum wherever possible and change the bedsheets, and the thought of exasperated staff dealing with the stubborn git he missed like hell makes him smile. He’s heard stories from various nurses and highly enjoyed Bandit’s redemption arc of starting out as a nightmare and turning into the highlight of their days. If he saw correctly, Bandit even bought them flowers. He must be very proud of his newly discovered move to weaken grudges.

“Wanna get on the bed?”, Bandit interrupts his thoughts a little too casually, so Montagne eyes him with suspicion.

“Do you want me to get on the bed?”

His better half purses his lips, probably considering whether it’s worth pretending like he has no idea what Montagne means (and oh, he hasn’t even considered this prospect, they’ll be finally alone and undisturbed, and despite his aversion to show any part of his skin, his body expresses some interest in the scenario) – but Bandit still manages to surprise him by muttering, almost embarrassed: “I just really want to cuddle right now.”

It’s disarmingly adorable, and Montagne’s heart melts. “Let’s do it, then”, he agrees. There’s some awkwardness in manoeuvring him out of the wheelchair and onto the much-too-soft mattress, but Bandit is stronger than he looks and able to provide enough support. As soon as Montagne sinks into the plushy pillows and Bandit presses himself against his side, all tension suddenly vanishes: his muscles relax, his thoughts calm down, his skin stops prickling. He hadn’t been aware how much he missed simple contact like this, the heat of another body against his own, the blissful feeling of being safe, being home, being loved.

This tiny bubble of everyday life suffices to soothe his cracked soul. He wishes he could wrap around Bandit fully, envelop him whole, drag him onto his chest, pull him into his arms – even offering his shoulder for Bandit’s head to rest on would help with his burning desire to be as close to him as possible, but for the moment he can’t. Not without considerable pain. Still, Bandit’s hand has slid into his, their fingers interlaced, and a gentle, regular breath caresses his cheek. Now and then, Bandit nuzzles him, presses a kiss to his cheek, sighs in contentment. They could stay like this for eternity.

And yet, Montagne’s guilt prohibits him from letting go completely. He has rejected this man. Refused to accept him into his life fully.

“If you wanna watch something, I pirated eleven films we haven’t seen”, Bandit murmurs against his jaw and makes him chuckle.

“I remember the hotel’s internet being unreliable. Don’t tell me you used public Wi-Fi? Mark would be horrified.”

“Yeah sure, I just sat down in the nearest McDonald’s and downloaded a hundred gigs of illegal stuff.” Bandit’s grin is boyish and attractive and so cute Montagne just wants to burn the image into his brain. “Better, actually – I asked one of the boys to do it. So we conspired together.”

“Are you going to miss them?”

Bandit thinks about it and eventually shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. It was nice seeing them again. But I think I miss everyone at Rainbow more. I haven’t been apart from everyone this long… ever, I think. Since I joined.” There’s more on his mind, Montagne can tell, so he waits and peeks down at the dirty blonde hair, the wild beard. Apparently Bandit decided shaving was too much of a hassle, so he gave up on it completely for the time being – and Montagne wholeheartedly understands. If he could grow one, he definitely wouldn’t be running around with naked cheeks.

After a while, Bandit adds, quietly: “I did visit Cedrick.”

Montagne wants to smack himself. How could he forget that Bandit’s twin still lives in Berlin? And while he’s proud of Bandit for taking the initiative and seeing him of his own accord, Montagne feels that he himself could’ve raised the possibility sooner. He knows they’re close, as close as any family member could ever hope to be with someone as fickle as Bandit, and he probably would’ve done wonders for Bandit’s psyche. “How is he? How is his family?”

“Good. They’re good. Gave me too much food, as usual. His wife got a promotion recently and the boys are doing great in school. They want to go to university later, imagine that. The first Brunsmeiers to go to uni.” Bandit glances up at him. “I also told them about you.”

There it is. He must’ve been dying to tell Montagne, judging by his pink cheeks and nervous fidgeting, and his demeanour as much as his words conjure up a bright smile on Montagne’s face. They had an unspoken agreement, an implied promise that they wouldn’t tell their families until they’re ready, which meant until Bandit was ready – coming out to friends was a big step, coming out to Rainbow a massive hurdle, and coming out to his family must’ve been a mountain to climb. His comfort zone has been steadily expanding, yet actions like these still turn Bandit into a skittish cat sometimes.

For someone with commitment issues like this, it’s incredible that Bandit decided for them to get married.

“Dom, mon amour, I am so proud of you.” He kisses Bandit’s temple and smiles even wider at his desperately dismissive mumbled reply of ‘’s nothing’. “That is wonderful news. How did they react?”

“Well, they wanted to meet you immediately.”

Yet they didn’t. Montagne’s smile fades a little. Did Bandit not want anyone to see him like this? Best case scenario, he figured that Montagne’s current state simply wouldn’t do him justice, and worst case… Would he be ashamed of him?

“But obviously, that didn’t work out, so I told them -”

“Why didn’t it?”

He must’ve noticed something, maybe an odd expression, because he reassures him instantly: “My love, I saw them yesterday evening. You’ll meet them soon enough, trust me. They were very supportive, in any case. I think Ced is just glad to know there’s at least one person out there who can tame me.” Bandit’s hand brushes over Montagne’s belly, toying with the hem of his shirt, and he puts his own over it.

Maybe he’s being dramatic. Thinking about it, his recent thought spirals followed a similar pattern to the dangerous ones Bandit entertains much too often, the ones Montagne has been trying to interrupt whenever he notices them. Except that Bandit can’t read minds as of yet and probably has no idea what’s going on with him, and how should he. Montagne hasn’t said a word. They haven’t mentioned their brief engagement, or whatever the fuck was going on for a bit, at all.

Maybe when Montagne said that he was worried about losing Bandit, he didn’t just mean Bandit’s own withdrawal from their relationship.

“I don’t like that you see me like this.”

Bandit reacts not, doesn’t glance upwards, but there’s a tightening of his half-embrace. He’s listening.

“I can’t stand it, in fact. I feel useless and powerless and I can tell it weighs you down as well.” Once he’s started speaking, the words nearly tumble out of his mouth by themselves, one by one does the truth finally spill over. “I’m sorry. You’re trying so hard, mon cœur, I know you’re trying so hard to be strong for me, and I love you for it, but… I don’t want this. I don’t want to be like this. I should be the one there for you.” His heart is heavy, his mind darkened and his eyes burning, threatening tears as evidence of his own fragility. Rarely do his emotions get the better of him yet his self-control is raw and worn out from too much use without a chance to replenish. “I know I should be grateful I survived, but I feel like an annoyance. I don’t even know if I can go back to Rainbow, I don’t know whether I’ll fully heal and I hate it.”

Before he can feel guilty for loading even more onto Bandit’s shoulders, his love cradles his head in surprisingly warm hands, whispers his name and puts their foreheads together. “It’s okay”, Bandit mutters, even though both of them know it isn’t, “Gilles, stop. It’s okay. Listen to me.”

Montagne expects platitudes and white lies, misplaced optimism, a few phrases people throw out and pat themselves on the back for consoling someone, but instead, Bandit says: “Look. All of this fucking sucks.”

Well. It sure does. Montagne frowns.

“I’ve been in the hospital before, I was injured pretty badly and felt less worthy than a sack of potatoes, believe me. I was hardly myself, I couldn’t sleep, the constant pain was horrendous and on top of that, all the pretty nurses were talking smack -”

This startles a small huff of amusement out of him and effectively interrupts his intrusive thoughts. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

“- I’m getting to that part. But you probably know how degrading it is when you can’t even piss by yourself, right? That’s the fucking worst. You’re like a baby, and you definitely feel just as stupid. It was one of the worst months of my entire life. But you know what? I got better.”

Ah. There we go. Montagne’s mouth goes thin.

“No, I know what you’re thinking: empty promises. You don’t understand how true it is, though. I’ve been rock bottom a few times, but it gets better. You’ve been there for it, so you know what I mean. And don’t even think for a second that each rock bottom was the same level, no, there were times when everything seemed hopeless, but honestly? Each time, it got a little easier to get back out. To get out and get to a better level than before. My parents…” He catches himself and shakes his head a little. “I don’t wanna keep talking about me right now.”

Montagne nudges him. “Please do. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

A deep breath later, Bandit continues: “My parents valued independence highly, so Ced and I were encouraged to help ourselves, which I suppose is a good thing. But it also taught us to not rely on anybody else. To not expect any safety nets: you fall, that’s it. Convincing yourself it’s worthwhile to go on after you’ve fallen was hard. I felt like I failed at life, and for a bit, giving up was the better alternative. But I did have a safety net after all: Ced did his part, a few friends did, my boss, too. So it worked out.”

“But you got worse again”, Montagne mutters.

“Yes. I got worse. Still, by then I knew not only that it was possible to get back out, but also that others would help. Miles away from asking for help, mind you, but with more hope. I kept learning. And…” Despite his reluctance to go on, Montagne remains quiet and waits. Some part of him realises it’s something Bandit has to say. “And… as horrible as that sounds, as much as I don’t even want to imagine it… I think I’m at the point where I could go on without you. If you didn’t – didn’t make it, for example, I could… I think I could. The beginning would be the absolute fucking worst, no doubt, but I’d find something to – to make it worth it. To continue.”

Wordlessly, Montagne drags him into a bear hug. Presses their bodies even tighter together, ignoring the stabs of pain in his side, ignoring all his muscles protesting, ignoring the uncomfortable weight against his injured ribcage. He just needs this man like air all of a sudden, and it seems impossible to him how he could’ve ever rejected him in anything.

He knows exactly what Bandit means. It might be put in a morbid way, but he’s trying to express just how much Montagne has helped him. Comparing this version of him with the fragile creature he once warmed in his arms is unthinkable; this Bandit isn’t vulnerable anymore. And though he was hit hard by Montagne’s near-death, he ended up recovering, largely due to his own strength. A few years ago, he would’ve reacted very differently to nearly losing a loved one, that much is certain.

Bandit is clinging to him as well, taking measured breaths against his jaw and hiding his face. “You’re the strongest fucking person I know”, he whispers, voice cracking. “And even if you lost all your limbs or your eyesight or what the fuck ever, you’d still be you. You’d still be as great as you were before. That’s a fact, you dumbass. And if you can’t do Rainbow anymore, you’ll open a stupid dog café in Marseilles or sell Fairtrade products in a corner shop, I don’t bloody know. All I know is that you shouldn’t listen to that irritating voice in your head because it has absolutely no fucking idea what it’s talking about.”

By now, Montagne is chuckling and crying at the same time, overcome by too many emotions to be able to process any of them. It feels like he was allowed a deeper look in Bandit’s workings, like he’s able to understand him a little better. More importantly, he does feel significantly less stupid now that he knows Bandit is familiar with thoughts like these and already opened himself up about them.

“I’m also worried you’d be put off by all my injuries”, he admits after a while of comforting physical contact, feeling much more confident in himself and assured they can actually talk things out.

His better half lifts his head to squint at him in confusion. “Put off…? Like, grossed out? This is nothing, I once had someone in my arms whose guts were – wait, you don’t mean that I’d find you unattractive, do you?”

Montagne eyes his love for a moment, the man whose knees get weak whenever Montagne whispers a single filthy word in his ear, the man who has admitted to having more wet dreams about him than he’d like, the very man who so valiantly held himself back until Montagne allowed him to let loose, and who has never held back since. The man Montagne missed every lonely second he spent without him over the past weeks. “Well, I’d hope not”, he mutters.

Bandit looks at him like he grew two heads. “Are you serious?”

“The bruises still look quite bad, and all the -”

“Okay, listen. You stop talking. I’m going to kiss every one of your bruises until you’re not sure whether it hurts anymore, and then I’ll make you come so hard you’ll pass out. To hell with waiting, I won’t take this for another second.”

He’s not sure whether he should take it as a threat or a promise, but when Bandit starts pulling Montagne’s clothes off his body, he finds that he has no intention to argue whatsoever. And it’s good to know this part of him still works. “Be careful, mon cœur.”

Dark eyes flick up and are accompanied by a growl: “Can’t promise that.”

And though this one was definitely a threat, all Montagne does is smile. He didn’t even realise how much he missed this.

.

~*~

.

Bandit continues to do all the work for them the next morning: he orders room service and serves Montagne breakfast in bed while also shoving everything he finds into their suitcases. No need to separate their clothes or belongings; they’re going to the same destination anyway. They should travel more, take some time off and explore the world together – a notion Montagne hadn’t entertained until now as he was never really tempted to leave France or just Europe in general without good reason, and their missions abroad together with the other operators’ supplemental information used to be sufficient for him. But now, the thought of spending a week in a hotel with no one familiar around him but Bandit, the image of them going on walks while holding hands, pointing out quaint aspects of the place around them… it’s enticing. He vows to bring it up sometime.

Muscles still sore from the previous night, his mind is the opposite: he feels refreshed, optimistic, motivated. Part of the reason is undoubtedly the sex, he can’t deny it – falling asleep with Bandit in his arms, the faint feeling of satisfaction still coursing through his body, it’s as invigorating as the act itself, the knowing, challenging stare as Bandit swallowed -

Well. He shouldn’t dwell on it. They don’t have a lot of time planned between leaving the hotel and the departure of their flight.

But anyway, it’s not just that, it’s also the conversations before and after. The way Bandit made him realise what exactly is important, that he can rely on his lover without a guilty conscience. He kept repeating how beautiful Montagne was, even during, and though it caused him to blush in considerable embarrassment, he certainly feels less self-conscious now. There wasn’t a single second in which Bandit’s assurance wavered, no moment where he showed doubt. He meant what he said.

And, thinking about it, it would be the same for Montagne. He wouldn’t care about Bandit’s physical state. He’d still love him unconditionally.

Then why are you saying no to him?

It’s different, Montagne wants to argue in his head. But is it? He’s known Bandit for longer than he did Catou when he proposed to her. They were at a different point in life then, not entirely sure about their careers (well, she wasn’t), uncertain about their future (and children is still a sore spot he refuses to entertain), really too young to make such a momentous decision. He’s been living together with Bandit for long enough to assess how well they work together. How well they fit.

No. It’s not any different in his heart. Where it’s different is his head: he’s twice shy, irrationally worried about getting hurt. And consequently hurts Bandit instead. Bandit has openly declared his wish to make their undying love and loyalty official, whereas Montagne punishes him for a crime he didn’t commit. A crime which was nobody’s fault, in the end.

Watching Bandit tear through the room and toss most of what they own into the nearest suitcase, Montagne notices how there’s one object Bandit hasn’t touched. Montagne’s passport. And he probably never will again, without explicit approval. He made a mistake, apologised and learnt from it.

Now it’s Montagne’s time to do so.

“Dominic”, he says, and instantly all activity halts. Bandit is comically frozen mid-throw, like a deer in headlights. Montagne never calls him by his full first name. “Mon amour.”

“… yes?” He seems unaware of the severity of the situation as of now.

“I would like to change my mind. If it’s still possible.” Montagne extends his hand and, instinctively, Bandit glides over to take it and sit down on the edge of the bed. “I do want to marry you.”

Bandit blinks at him. “Oh”, he says. And then: “Really?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about it, and I realise I’ve been unfair. We don’t have to rehash how… questionable your proposal was, but it made me overlook the most obvious truth: that I do love you above all and want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I do want to make it official that way.”

Bandit still looks dumbstruck, probably overwhelmed from the suddenness of the announcement. “Uh -”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like us to have rings, too, so I can carry something on me at all times that marks me as yours and the other way round. So yes, mon cœur. My love. I hope your proposal still stands, because I would like to accept it.”

By now, his lover has turned crimson. He’s fidgeting with Montagne’s hand, bending his fingers and generally not knowing what to do with his own, and his embarrassment is terribly endearing – up to the point where he mumbles something Montagne would swear he misheard. “… for the benefits”, Bandit ends, apparently addressing his own feet.

Now it’s Montagne’s turn to blink, uncomprehending. “What was that?”

“I wanted to marry for the benefits”, Bandit repeats, louder, and Montagne’s mind screeches to a halt.

He stares at Bandit, Bandit stares at the ground. “You… what now?”

“Not just – well I mean, also, but definitely not only… you know, financial, because I think there is…” Bandit’s tongue seems to be disobeying him. “But, mostly because…”

“What on earth are you saying, Dom?”

“I wasn’t allowed to visit you.”

The shoe drops.

Boy, does the shoe drop. This explains so much. Montagne blanks for a second before his brain retroactively feeds him bits and pieces of information which now neatly fall into place, now that he’s been handed the solution on a silver platter. In his delirium, he never questioned why Madeleine was the only one coming to visit him – hell, even his parents did – instead of Bandit as well; he did hear about a fight between Bandit and Lion and probably, in his feverish mind, figured that Bandit was banned because of this and couldn’t visit him as a result. But never, not for a moment, did he consider the option that they simply turned Bandit away because he was no more than a stranger to them, no official connection between them.

No wonder Bandit went stir-crazy, no wonder his mind snapped and convinced him faking official documents was a reasonable long-term solution, no wonder he announced their wedding so casually without ever officially proposing. It was never meant to be a step forward for them as a couple, was never meant as any kind of declaration – it was meant as a preventative method in case they ever find themselves in a similar situation.

No wonder Bandit is thoroughly embarrassed by Montagne’s acceptance speech.

If there even was any left, all of his residual anger vanishes upon this revelation. He’s not even dismayed about Bandit’s motives: had he, at any point really, explained himself, Montagne might’ve actually agreed with him – because while a marriage means something much more sentimental and symbolic to Montagne, he understands Bandit’s viewpoint as well, especially under the circumstances.

Bandit is still avoiding his gaze, so he lifts his lover’s hand and kisses its palm until he has his full attention. “We’ve become victims of a grave misunderstanding”, Montagne states, a smile playing on his lips. “I understand now. Still, my point stands: I would like to be married to you, for the reasons I stated, and also for the reasons you had in mind. But I’d like you to think about it, because we obviously have different approaches and I want to be sure our expectations match.”

And this is the moment burning eyes meet his, framed in an expression so open and vulnerable that Montagne has no doubt about the authenticity of Bandit’s next words: “I don’t need to think about it.”

Montagne’s heart doubles in size. His composure, his tension, all of it melts instantly, replaced by a heady rush of pure serotonin as he realises just how right this decision feels. Inevitable, almost, like this has been their destination all along without either of them being aware, but now they’re here; exactly where they belong. All their time together has led up to this, the difficult conversations they had, the obstacles they overcame, all the beautiful little moments which were wholly theirs. It’s incredible to him how far they’ve progressed, from near-strangers who barely exchanged a word to lovers so intimate they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.

It’s not about the proposal itself, not about the wedding or even the marriage after – Montagne himself knows best that a marriage is no guarantee for happiness; instead, it’s something deeper, significant only to them. A promise to each other, a promise to take care of each other, to stay loyal and supportive, to listen and talk to each other. Ultimately, it’s extremely private, yet they might decide to share it with the world regardless.

“Come here”, he pleads and kisses Bandit, half drags him onto himself and pushes his hands under Bandit’s shirt – no, his own shirt, he notices, the one Bandit slept in. A shirt he brought Montagne to wear in hospital and a shirt he took back to wash it, but it seems he didn’t get around to doing so. Instead he just wore it. “I love you so much”, Montagne whispers against scratchy beard hair, and of course that moment someone knocks on their door.

They look at each other and simultaneously roll their eyes. Lion has terrible timing.

“We don’t have much time left!”, the other Frenchman announces from the other side of the door. “So whatever it is you’re doing, you better -” He stops once Bandit yanks open the door with an annoyed scowl.

“We were actually getting ready”, Montagne lies smoothly and can’t help his beaming expression. The same glowing, fluttery feeling which has settled in his stomach is tugging on the corners of his lips, forcing him to grin.

Lion raises a sceptical brow. “Seems like you kissed and made up then.”

“And out”, Bandit provides helpfully. “Don’t stand around, get this luggage downstairs, I’ll take care of Gilles.”

“That better not be a euphemism”, Lion scoffs, but Montagne catches him fighting a smile himself.

Maybe the two of them are contagious. It would certainly make for a more pleasant flight.

.

~*~

.

By the time they’re back in England, Lion is thoroughly done with their shit.

The entire jouney, Bandit fawned over Montagne and tended to his every wish – uttered or not –, all of this done on top of all the accommodations he’d booked in advance. They spent a relaxed hour in the airport lounge, sipping on overpriced drinks and listening to the bustling around them, and even flew first class despite the shortness of the flight. Not even the screaming baby that performed the entire duration as if it was having its debut on the big stage was able to put a damper on Montagne’s or Bandit’s mood, and part of him understands Lion’s irritated response to their admittedly disgusting lovey-dovey aura.

His friend started out being cordial and visibly swallowing various remarks, progressed to thin-lipped, high-browed and disapproving, and ended with eye rolls and audible sighs. Every affectionate nickname worsened his mood, every public display like kisses or interlacing their fingers prompted a judging glance, and every soft-spoken sentence had him check his phone for the time.

Montagne has no space in his fully-occupied heart to feel any sort of guilt, especially because he suspects Lion is largely doing it for Bandit’s benefit as the German seems to relish the reactions he provokes. He is very smug.

His suspicions are apparently confirmed when he’s alone with Lion for a minute while Bandit bodychecks his way through an unmoving and uncaring crowd blocking the baggage claim. “Seems like you came to an agreement after all”, Lion states neutrally.

“We did. And if I’m honest, something you said helped with my decision.” Lion only nods, like he expected it. Curious. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to like him? If so, I won’t need a wedding present from you because that’s all I could wish for.”

“Let’s not go that far”, comes the hasty response and Montagne chuckles.

“Then why?”

A one-sided shrug. “I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

They share no more than a significant look before Bandit returns, masking his annoyance with overdone cheeriness, and so his statement remains unexplained. Whether he finally noticed the mirrored qualities he and Bandit share, whether he’s referring to Montagne’s first marriage, or whether he’s implying that he might meet Bandit with a different attitude in the future, Montagne doesn’t know. Still, the assertion resonates with him.

.

Seeing the oh so familiar landscape rush past the window on the last leg back to Hereford evokes an odd kind of nostalgia in Montagne. The view is one he’s always enjoyed, it marked the end of a difficult mission, the return to normalcy in a way – because his life at Rainbow has become the new normal for him, his everyday life, the foundation for his daily routine. The company of his colleagues is dear to him, as is the work itself, and as gruelling their training schedule is, he sleeps better when his muscles are sore and his head heavy.

Knowing he won’t be able to go back to this life for the foreseeable future causes a bittersweet feeling in his stomach. He will still participate, no doubt, will be included in briefings and kept up to date, will confer with teammates, offer advice. So it’s not like he’ll be isolated or exiled. But the knowledge of being incapable of doing what he’s used to stings a little.

Even so, his mind is focused on another matter. There are many more obstacles to overcome in the future concerning their engagement, starting with their respective families (though he’s under the suspicion Madeleine has realised something is up, even if she might not be aware of the severity of the situation) and ending with important decisions on how to hold their wedding party – but the most valuable aspect is that they’ll be doing it together.

Although he’s not so sure whether Bandit is ready for some of it.

“Take it to your grave or I’ll haunt your son when I’m dead.”

Lion seems largely amused by the threat, patiently waiting in front of the main entrance to Rainbow’s headquarters for Bandit to open the door. “One of his friends is a flat-earther, so he’s faced worse.”

Montagne snorts and Bandit nearly slams into the doors from scowling back at the other Frenchman. “Seriously though. This is just between us for now, alright? Even I haven’t told anyone, and neither has Gilles. Right, my love?”

“I’d like to point out that you were the one who told Olivier about your ‘proposal’ in the first place, mon cœur. Drunkenly, if I remember correctly.”

“Does that mean I can’t even tell Gustave?” Lion seems intent on making Bandit faceplant after all – he’s got the easy job of pushing Montagne around whereas Bandit is tasked with the much more difficult assignment of holding doors open for them on the way to their canteen. “I would love to see his face.”

“No. Nobody. Especially not in Rainbow.”

“What about Père Bertrand?”

“Absolutely not. Who knows whether he’s a snitch.”

“Who would he snitch to? God?”

“Look. I don’t know why this is so hard for you.” Bandit’s voice is rising in agitation as he shoulders open the last door, back turned to the room behind him, eyes fixed on Lion. “Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Okay? No one needs to know. No one! This is just between us.”

Montagne’s composure is crumbling. Wordlessly, he indicates the entirety of the canteen with a vague gesture, trying his best to hold back a hearty laugh.

In response, Bandit whirls around with a wild expression, only to be faced with an entire room decked out with the gaudiest decorations in pink and white, plus literally all of the other operators arranged along the wall, holding confetti cannons or glasses of champagne, wearing party hats and utterly aghast expressions, and above them, floating below the ceiling, are gold balloons spelling out  E N G A G E D.

The awkward silence is palpable.

The champagne bottle in Blitz’ hand pops with a startlingly loud noise, making everyone jump and almost taking out Twitch’s eye in the process, and Lion just starts roaring with laughter, holding on to the wheelchair as to not lose his balance.

“Welcome back, Gilles”, Doc offers and lifts his glass for a toast, and that finally breaks the spell. Everyone rushes at them, congratulating them and greeting Montagne after his long absence, Rook with tears in his eyes and Jackal with an encouraging smile, there are too many faces and too many well-wishes to identify them all. Their gesture is heartwarming, and though Bandit stands in the middle of the crowd, hiding his bright red face with one hand (and repeating that no, he is not taking questions right now), he’s far from fighting the many hugs he receives. When Sledge takes him into his arms, there’s audible bone cracking and joint popping, and Montagne is suddenly glad to be confined to the wheelchair.

Maybe their reveal didn’t go quite as planned, but the support they’re receiving is invigorating. Montagne might’ve preferred a small wedding prior to this, yet being confronted with hard evidence of how much all these people care for them is beginning to change his mind.

He will talk about it with Bandit, later. For now he has a party to attend.

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

FAVORITE MOVIE LOVE STORIES

THANKS FOR THE TAG: @superkingofpriderock​

Belle and Beast (Jean Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast, 1946)

Since i was a kid, Beauty and the Beast has always been my favorite western european fairy tale. I relate at the same to the Beast’s desire to be accepted by the society that fears and looks down his appearance and to Belle’s mixture of fear, curiosity and fascination by the hybrid anthropomorfic creature. And with their great chemistry, the actors Josette Day and Jean Marais really captured those feelings in this classic adaptation directed by Jean Cocteaus

Damiel and Marion (Wings of Desire, 1987)

A 1987 film by Wim Wenders originally called Der Himmel über Berlin (lit: ‘The Heavens Above Berlin’).The film depicts two angels, Damiel and Cassiel, wandering in Cold War era Berlin and listening to the thoughts of humans. Among those humans are an old man looking for the now-destroyed Potsdamer Platz and recalling the good times he used to have there; Peter Falk As Himself; and Marion, a lonely French trapezist desperately looking for a purpose in life.  The angels don’t directly intervene in human existence but sometimes give comfort to humans who need it, like a woman in labor, or a suicidal man on a tram, or a motorcyclist who is dying in the street after he was struck by a car. However, Damiel yearns to be human himself and to experience life as a mortal does. Eventually he falls in love with Marion, the trapeze artist, and has to make a difficult choice: to become human himself in order to be with her, leaving Heaven.

Queen Fantaghirò and King Romualdo (Fantaghirò/The Cave of the Golden Rose franchise, 1991-96)

Fantaghirò (known in the english speaking world as The Cave of the Golden Rose) is a series of five television films produced in Italy by Lamberto Bava (Mario Bava’s son), telling the adventures of Fantaghirò, the youngest of three princess sisters, who traines to become a brave warrior as a way to get free of the sexist restrictions imposed at her life by her father. Her kingdom has been at war with a neighbor kingdom for years, and one day the rencently crowned young adversary king, Romualdo, decides to end the war by personally challenging the best champion of Fantaghirò’s kingdom. Fantaghirò, disguised as man, presents herself as this champion, and their love story begins when Romualdo falls in love with the beauty of her eyes. What’s interesting about this couple is how their personalitys complement each other: Fantaghirò with a more combative strong temper, and Romualdo with a more sweet and calm temper.

Marianne Danielle and Doctor Van Helsing (The Brides of Dracula, 1960)

While watching Hammer Horror’s Brides of Dracula, i finded adorable how Doctor Van Helsing cares for Marianne Danielle (whom he befriends while arriving at Transilvania), how he wants to protect her and respects her feelings, to the point of trying contain his sorrow when she announces her engagement with Baron Meinster. I always imagine that when he defeated the Baron (who is revealed to be a vampire), and flee the wind mill with Marianne, he declared his feelings, she reciprocated, he teached her how to fight vampires, they married and became a battle couple searching to purge the world of the vampires. This is a pairing who deservers more love, fanart and fanfiction.

Fininha and Clécio (Tatuagem, 2013)

Tatuagem (Tattoo) is a movie set in the late 1970s, during the period of the Brazilian Civil-Military Dictatorship, that tells the love story between Fininha, an young soldier, and Clécio, an actor and playwrighter who produces satirical plays for a underground theater called Chão de Estrelas (Floor of Stars). Their romance is one of the most sweetest ever captured on film, but we also feel a certain unease that the fact of Fininha being at the service of the military who persecutes the theater artists will break the couple apart at any moment…

Karaba and Kirikou (Kirikou and the Sorceress, 1998)

Kirikou and the Sorceress is a 1998 French animated film, directed by Michel Ocelot, loosely based on a West African fairy tale.  It tells the story of a tiny baby boy, named Kirikou, who is born in a spectacular way (all by himself, without effort of his mother nor outside help) and can speak and walk immediately after being born. After a couple of questions, he learns that a wicked sorceress, Karaba, has cursed the village and devoured all the men and boys, except his uncle, who is on his way to fight the sorceress. He tricks the sorceress, saves his uncle as well as the children of the village (twice!!), brings the water back to the dried-up spring and, among other things, discovers the sorceress’ true motivations: Karaba is evil because of all the suffering she went through at the hands of men, including a very subtly implied rape. All the bad things that she allegedly had done are ultimately proved to be false. She does hate everyone, but she gets better. Despite being a baby, Kirikou asks Karaba in marriage when she pulls a Heel–Face Turn, saying that he doesn’t like little girls. She doesn’t accept, of course, but then her kiss turns him into a handsome young man.

Nina Shah and Lisa MacKinlay (Nina’s Heavenly Delights, 2006)

Nina’s Heavenly Delights is a Rom Com about a cooking contest,  directed by Pratibha Parmar. The death of her father Mohan brings prodigal daughter, Scot with Indian ancestry Nina (Shelley Conn) home again to Glasgow, her mother, siblings - and the family restaurant, “The Taj”. Being able to keep the latter now hinges on the cooking skills Nina learned at her father‘s knees. In the “Best of The West Curry Competition” she will have to face the former fiancé she left at the altar, Sanjay. In this competition, she will count with the partnership of Lisa, who owns half of the restaurant since Mohan’s death and already seems to be very much part of Nina’s family. And in the proccess, Lisa also becomes a part of Nina’s heart… 

Lady and Tramp (Lady and the Tramp, 1955)

I grew up watching VHSs of the old Disney 2-D Animated movies over, and over, and over. And a thing that i find funny is that most people tend to quote movies from the 1990s Disney Renaissance as when Disney Couples started to met each other first instead of fall in love at first sight, bu when we make a retrospective, in actuality it was Lady and Tramp who started the trend. First they met at Lady’s house and have a verbal fight due to diverging points of view about humans, them they encounter each other again at the streets when she flees from Aunt Sarah, and they walk trough the zoo to unleash Ladys muzzle, Tramp takes her to dinner at Tonys (wich us gives Bella Notte, one of the most romantic scenes in movie history)… every step that a real couple takes to meet each other is taken by Lady and Tramp.

Orfeo x Eurydice (Black Orpheus, 1959)

Black Orpheus is a 1959 film, a French production shot in Brazil and in the Portuguese language. It is a retelling of the ancient myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, set in Rio during Carnaval. Orfeo is a trolley conductor who moonlights as a dancer in a samba school. He is engaged to be married to the gorgeous and passionate Mira, but doesn’t seem too enthused about it. On his trolley car, he meets Eurydice, who has arrived in Rio from the countryside because she is being chased by a mysterious man who she thinks is trying to kill her. Orfeo and Eurydice fall in love, but the strange man—Death himself—is still stalking her.

I TAG: @jgvfhl​ @johnnyclash87​ @lioness--hart​ @mademoiselle-princesse​

[greatchaosgentlemen]

I think that its great to enjoy the characters and the stories that are told within the Skamverse. Discovered the OG in 2017 and was like whoah this shit is really  cool. Coming from the UK we already had the tales of Skins (great show check it out for British teenage life) but Skam is like life Monday-Friday and then Skins is more like the intense crazy weekend experience. Sorry if no one gets that analogy.

But basically I just think sure it is fine to comment on the shows and say what your liking and what you most definitely don't. It’s all art and I feel like we should all expect and accept that. But just don't stress out too much guys, sometimes I see so much anger and like i don't know if you guys are actually that angry irl but I don't know i hope not because that shit must be so bad. Skamverse is great but hey remember that these are just fictional characters and we shouldn't be loosing ourselves to them and forget to live our own lives. and of course some versions are better than others with their storytelling, acting, cinematography, score, representation etc. and some are just cringy af. Don't know if that to do with translations (shoutout to all the translators out there, Skam is one big reason that I've gotten in other language films and tv, you all do such an amazing job so thanks). But i just want to say I hope that we all remember that we can be the change and work towards creating the right dialogue in which any tom, dick and harry can feel happy and discover an art form (film, tv, book, poem etc) where they feel represented. 

just basically im just like saying A LOT MORE RESPECT NEEDS TO BE GIVEN PARTICUARLY TO THE ACTORS because some of y’all are T-H-I-R-S-T-Y and it ain’t cute. and like there's a difference being critiquing and being annoyed or being angry and expressing that normally; whereas some of you are just really dam rude to people. 

basically i think we all should just be happy that such a good show exists, and take all the positive and negatives that come from living at such a time where the Skamverse exists ( albeit this time is weird because CORONA !!!! Hope that everyone is safe and is practicing social distancing. We will eventually defeat this). We are all so talented and no matter what I want to reinforce that belief that truly you are loved no matter what your race, skin colour, sexuality, belief in religion, whether you forgot when your uni assignment was due and thought you had a weekend but actually it was due on the Friday so you had to spend 12 hours in the library (whoops just me ?!), thoughts on climate change (im just saying that to be inclusive because the science is there and if you don't believe that well im sorry your being ridiculous and i think you should be concerned about mother nature and that we should be fighting the 1% who truly control everything, your academic prowess and a million more things that frankly i can't be bothered to write down but the intention is there

and heck if you want to vent your frustrations just let them out of course because they shouldn't be bottled in, in my opinion. go and talk to someone irl and say how ridiculous you think this thing is that you think happen. or if you don't feel like you have one then hell message me because i LOVE to talk and in particular at this point in the world i got all the time in the world. personally i also like making my own retellings and writings of the Skam stories where i make it better (hahah ;)) and if you want to do that then heck do that and ill be more than happy to read it 

basically those are just some thoughts i had and because my fingers are beginning to hurt im just going to list what im feeling about the shows 

sidenote - i think capitalism sucks and that money and views have to be taken into account by companies etc because i really think all of the four og stories should just be told automatically by all versions. let them stories and actors shine babyyyy

skam usa - bro like being a fellow english speaker yours is the one i can follow obviously the easiest so why are you just so kinda i don't know different and blah. is skam really just an european thing ? i don't know but i think an argument could be made 

skam og - nei vilde. what a ride and what a vibe. your basically iron man and have spewed the Skamverse. in my opinion great actors and great stories, in particular for me my first introduction to someone who follows Islam. also your soundtrack is smashing. though who is perfect ya know and obviously would have loved for you to have continue up to graduation 

skam france - oooo la la la. i do like the french language so its cool to help me learn and stuff but i really feel like you guys have got hit with a lot of bts drama and rules and order so i just don't know. your original seasons i don't know yet. still its only a story so i mean it is what it is. but like also people around this cast need to be a hella more respective of the actors *sips tea*

skam espana- hola amigos. you the edgy one that got everyone on their toes. I like that and i tip my hat to you. just i don't know sometimes i feel it sometimes i don't. shout out for so far being the only wlw representation (don't know if that's the right acronym, so please don't hate me. but i hope that women found some positives there) and with norando i like totally get it with the story told there but still i love to love and just like sad to miss out on the on screen growth of the relationship but still its cool

skam italia - ciao bella - some of you is hot some of you is not. i think the story is good but i don't know i just want more italian flavour. still thats from a foreigner view and in fact maybe it is very italian. hopefully your season 4 will be good, exciting with all this Netflix additions ooooo 

druck - danke- you cool bro just going powering on through. like your a bit of juggernaut really and im like whoah. actually do like a lot of your vibe and stylistic choices. its tres cool. also very exciting about this new season etc that has broken, really vibing a possible skins similarity with the set up. fingers crossed 

skam nl - eskild you crossover legend - ticking all my boxes just so sad for your premature closure. didn't know much about netherlands so cool to experience language and culture. maybe you'll come back to the skamverse again like Hawkeye as he buggered off for first of infinity war. sending you good vibes 

wtfock- yes yes yes. not going to lie so far you are my favourite.overall good vibes and everything. hopefully its good vibes and the proper belgian kids like it. just good stuff and so innovative to discuss lockdown and everything. exciting times and exciting for season 4 when it drops 

basically all of this came from one beer so yolo, still out here living my best life and one day hoping that the UK gets a Skam version. so many ideas so many possibilities

and like if ive offended anyone then i am sorry wasn't my intention. just writing down my thoughts and im sure you will get over it because were all amazing. Just keep it chill and honestly like i wont give any negative stuff the time of day anyway so don't waste your time heheh *sips tea* 

also most importantly i am very sorry for my grammar and punctuation and everything. honestly i am just being lazy and cannot be bothered to go over and rectify it. also sorry for making a very confusing message that probably really doesn't make sense at all. haha 

still alt er love everyone 

*renegades away from the computer*

[kingdomofthelogos]

The Children Are Not Forgotten

I recently saw the movie “1917,” which is a World War One film that follows a soldier on his quest through enemy territory with the goal of saving his brothers from a trap. The movie is a powerful portrayal of the horrors of fallen creation, and there is a particular scene that reminds us how the children of God get caught up in such horrors. There is a scene in the movie where the soldier meets a young lady his age with a little child. This was not a casual meeting that one might have while walking down the street, or the sort of meeting where young people go out to enjoy dinner with one another. This was a chance meeting of isolated souls who were on their own quests through a town destroyed by war.

This chance encounter took place in the basement beneath a ruined building. The soldier jumped through a window and hid in the basement and found the young lady there with a baby. He was English and she was French. The two could not really converse fluently, but they knew they were alone save for a few Germans who were roaming the streets looking to kill anyone in sight.

After some time of carefully negotiated attempts at communication, the young man discovered that the baby was not her own, and she did not even know who its mother was. Furthermore, she did was not able to produce milk to nurse the child, and the future looked bleak for them. The pair was starving, just as the soldier was.

The soldier knew he had to continue his quest, for if he did not make it to his destination in time many of his fellow men would die in a trap. Yet, for a moment, his heart had turned its attention to these other souls that were in mortal peril.  His heart was torn over the young lady and the child in her care.

By an act of providence, the soldier found himself on a farm a few moments earlier. It had been laid waste by the Germans, who destroyed its buildings and livestock. However, there was a bucket of milk that was still good when he came upon it. Having no food or drink himself, he filled his canteen with the milk.

Now that he was with the girl and the baby, the milk had a new purpose. He knew it was for the child. Knowing he had to move on, he left the girl with the milk.

The Truth of Hell

Typically, we think of war zones as being forsaken by God, that they are hell. But, of course, hell is defined by its separation from God, and we know that God does not forsake His children.  This scene in the movie caused me to think about my understanding of war and God’s presence for those involved.

In WWII it was popular for young men to lie about their age and enter the service. My Great Uncle Buford was one who did just that, and it so happens that he was eventually stationed in Germany where he met his wife Ann. Ann was German, and she lived through real horrors like that which was portrayed in this movie. She had watched as her baby brother died, for her mother could not produce enough milk to nurse him. The horrors of war are real, but we must Give thanks to God, for these places of horror are not hell. For God is not absent from these places, not matter how convinced we are that He is.  We pray and we know that God is there to open His arms to all of His children who have died in such terrible places.

We are all children of God, and we are in danger the moment we let our hearts forget that fact. Just as the child in that movie was a child of God, so was the young man and the young woman. The soldiers, and the civilians alike are children of God, and the Master of Creation never fails to love His children.  

Matthew 18:1-9

Matthew 18:1 At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2 He called a child, whom he put among them, 3 and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5 Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.

6 “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. 7 Woe to the world because of stumbling blocks! Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to the one by whom the stumbling block comes!

8 “If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life maimed or lame than to have two hands or two feet and to be thrown into the eternal fire. 9 And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into the hell of fire. (NRSV)

What is this Really Saying?

This text is reminding us that we must accept in our heart that we are children of God. Furthermore, it commands us to change our hearts and become like children before Jesus. It is easy to forget that we are children of God. Nonetheless, the truth is that we are God’s children regardless of our age.

This text gives us a warning that we are not to cause the little ones to stumble. Moreover, we are not to cause ourselves to stumble, because we are little ones. We are not to make ourselves out to be idols, or to think higher of ourselves than we really are.

God does not take kindly to the wicked deeds that cause His children to suffer and stray in this world. Moreover, we can have firm assurance that those who cause such little ones to stumble and fall will seek a fate worse than a terrifying death.

Looking Across Time

From the beginning, mankind was created in God’s image. They were meant to be together with one another as a family, with family units that carried on the great work of keeping God’s order. The notion of being a child of God is not new when Jesus teaches us in the Gospels, for God has long taught us to understand that He is our Father.

This text is a text that reminds us that God wants us to be reconciled to Him. There must be a change in our hearts because sin has tainted us. God does not want us to be separated from Him, and if we can, just for a moment, stop and pay close attention to the details of the world, we will find that His hand is quite active as He providentially graces us with blessings throughout life. Our most ancient ancestors were children of God when He first breathed the breath of life into them, and even after the fall they were still His children. God has always desired that we be reconciled to Him, and He has always been pained to see His children suffer.  

Matthew 18:10-14

18:10 “Take care that you do not despise one of these little ones; for, I tell you, in heaven their angels continually see the face of my Father in heaven.[b] 12 What do you think? If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? 13 And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. 14 So it is not the will of your[c] Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost. (NRSV)

Again, we are reminded that God wants us to be reconciled to Him. Even the great tyrants who cause such wretched and horrible sufferings on this earth are Children of God. God even cares for the souls of those such as Nebuchadnezzar. God desires that we have that change, and that the lost sheep be returned to Him.

God’s Presence and Hope

The older I get, the more I realize how much God’s hand is involved in our world. There are acts of providence all around us, but we can miss them if we do not pay close attention. Moreover, we can miss them if we do not have the proper expectations of our relationship with God. So often we want to see God on our terms, not on His. We forget that He is the parent, omnipotent and omnipresent, and He sees that which we cannot. Sometimes we forget that we are not forgotten.

It truly was a clever detail, to include the scene with the milk in the movie 1917. It makes a subtle statement that is very profound once you see it. In a theatre of war and death caused by the sin of man, God’s hand is there to care about His children.

Paying attention to the providence of God is no easy task, for we are not beings with all seeing eyes. Nonetheless, God is active in revelation. His hand can be found, even in the dark moments of life. Let us examine our lives to look for the Hand of God in them. Let us look for the providential blessings which has gone under our radar.

Reflecting on that scene in the movie 1917, I realize there is no milk for the child without God. You might say, oh, that’s just a movie, with a creative plot point that is too ridiculous to believe such an event could happen in the real world. Yet, it is true. Such moments have happened, and God’s hand is active in our world. Even when little ones have fallen, they are were not forgotten by God. There is no meaning in anything without God’s hand there to guide us and collect us. The older I get, the more I realize just how true this is, and just how active God’s hand is.

God has not forgotten us, and those who come to God as children will be great in His Kingdom. There is great hope in this truth. We are called to be children, to change in our hearts and humble ourselves before our Father in Heaven. When we do this, and we start to look at the world with this knowledge on the tip of our minds, we will start to see just how present God really is. The children of God are not forgotten, and it is imperative that we humble ourselves before Him as our Father in Heaven.

[lurafita]

Petvengers (Or, how Peter tricks NY heroes into pet adoption)

Again, this is also on Ao3, but I want to have duplicates, just in case.

here is the link if you want to read it on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139326/chapters/45486811

This is part of a series.  This is bordering on crack, seriously. It is a lot of fun to write though. I hope you will enjoy it.

Peter has decided that New York's heroes should all have (at least one) pet. Because pets are awesome. Now he just has to convince them of it.

Here a little bit to catch you up:

As with all the other fics in the series, Civil War got resolved peacefully (and Ross is out of office), and Infinity War and Endgame did not and will not happen. This fanfiction series universe is a happy place. Okay? Good.

Tony and Pepper share custody over Peter with May. Peter occasionally calls Tony Dad (he might also at one point refer to Pepper as Mom, but Aunt May will always be Aunt May, without the title diminishing the magnitude of love he feels for her)

Peter has a male Pitbull named Hope, a shelter rescue dog who was about to be euthanized.

Tony has spilled the beans on live TV about Peter being heir to Stark Industries.

Peter is acquainted with some of NYPD's detectives and the captain.

Tony, being the overprotective helicopter parent he is, has used his, so far limited, access to nano-technology to make a watch for Peter that tracks pretty much everything and can't be taken off by anyone other than Tony (or, in the event of Tony's demise, Pepper, May, Happy, or Rhodey) – See part 1 and 2 of the series for reference.

Tony and Pepper still own and live in the Tower, and the Avengers all have rooms (floors) there as well. Due to the events of the second story in the series (the wounds we see and the scars we don't) May and Peter have also taken up residence in the tower (more specifically on Tony and Peppers floor, where they have their own living spaces). Though right now this arrangement is temporary and the two might move back into their house in Queens eventually.

Since I ignore Infinity War and Endgame, neither Tony nor Peter have nano-tech-suits. (Though they might at some point)

Also, the identities of other vigilantes are known to the Avengers (part of the fixed Accords thing)  

Last but never least, my very favorite part of this series, Peter swears in food names. Shit = Skittles, Damn = Donuts, Hell = Hot Dogs, Fuck = French Fries or Fruit Loops, any kind of name calling, i.e. Bitch, Ass, Fuckface, etc = Licorice

Chapter 1

Steve

Edward 'Ned' Leeds loved his best friend. He truly, absolutely, did. Peter was his brother from another mother.

However, that didn't change the fact that sometimes, Peter could be a teeny, tiny, little bit ridiculous.

Because who else would ever get the idea of tricking earths mightiest heroes into each adopting a shelter animal.

-

MyfriendscallmeMJ: Peter, you can't lie to save your life. How do you plan on tricking anyone, much less the Avengers, into taking a pet home? Especially since they already have you.

DefinitelynotSpiderman: Okay, first, rude. I can totally lie when I want to. In fact, I'm a great liar. Like,... Just look at my chatname! If that doesn't scream 'Master of deception', nothing does.

Guyinthechair: Ô_o...

MyfriendscallmeMJ: Ô_o...

DefinitelynotSpiderman: And second, I have a fool proof plan.

Guyinthechair: Ô_o...

MyfriendscallmeMJ: Ô_o...

DefinitelynotSpiderman: Parts of a fool proof plan... like... 46% of a plan,... that is not at all fool proof... but we can totally pull it off!

Guyinthechair: Yeah, somehow I do not feel confident about this. At all.

MyfriendscallmeMJ: What do you mean 'we'?

-

And so it was that Ned found himself, armed with his trusty camcorder, waiting in front of 'A heart has four paws' shelter for Peter, on a sunny Saturday morning. Really, all Peter had said was to meet him there at exactly 9:30am, and to be ready to film what would become 'a promotional video'.

Ned had absolutely no idea what Peter had planned, but it was either going to be absolutely epic, or completely embarrassing.

A quick look at his phone revealed the time to be 9:27, which left his best friend three minutes before Ned was allowed to officially change Peter's chatname into 'ThetardySpider'. He was already typing in his friends password into the first of many social media platforms, when (happy) barking reached his ears. He looked up to see Hope and Peter racing each other to reach him.

"Not late!"

Peter wheezed out as soon as he came to a stop in front of Ned.

"I totally did not forget to ask Friday to wake me up early today and was absolutely not just woken up 35 minutes ago by Hope licking my face off. Completely on time, that's me. Mr. Punctuality."

He doubled over immediately after, bracing his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

Ned checked his phone. 9:29. Donuts! Oh well, knowing his best friend, an opportunity for assigning punishing nicknames would present itself once again. So he bent down to give Hope some love, while Peter was finally regaining his lost oxygen.

"Okay! We all set? You got your camera, Ned?"

He held it up for Peter to see.

"What am I even supposed to film with it? And shouldn't you have brought at least one of the people you intend to con into pet acquisition with you, oh great master of deception?"

"Please, you make me sound like a criminal. I'm not going to 'con' anyone, just persuade them to do something I want by slightly bending the truth."

Ned gave him a deadpan look.

"Pete, that is the textbook definition of conning someone."

But the brunette waved him off, digging his phone out of his pants.

"Semantics. Now, Steve left for his morning jog at 5, the freak, and since it's Saturday and there is no mission to prepare for, he wanted to make it a full run 'round."

Ned's yaw dropped.

"Are you telling me Captain America is jogging through all of New York?"

Peter nodded distractedly while typing something into his phone.

"And he got up a 5 am to do it. 5 am, Ned! Sleep-hating-freak. Not even Sam and Bucky joined him for something this crazy. I mean, 5 am, Ned!"

"You know you have gotten up earlier than that. Actually, you have stayed up later than that."

His exclamation was waved away again.

"That was for Spiderman, and lab time with Tony,... and cartoons. You know, important stuff. Not to go jogging!"

Peter shuddered for effect.

"Anyway, according to his usual running speed, traffic, roadblocks, calculated detours and approximate number of stops he had to make to hydrate or take a selfie with a fan, he should be in this general area by now."

Apparently having finished with his first task on the phone, Peter then scrolled through his contacts and hit the call button for one 'Star spangled man with a plan'. He didn't have to wait long for Steve to accept the call.

"Hey Pete, what-"

"STEVE! IT'S AN EMERGENCY! COME TO LEE AVENUE 14! HURRY!" And then Peter promptly hung up.

Ned stared at him open mouthed for three long seconds, then he beamed and proudly patted his friend on the shoulder.

"You just lied to Captain America without stuttering, over-explaining yourself, or dissolving into a puddle of anxiety! Good for you!"

Peter's grin couldn't possibly be wider.

"Thanks! For a moment there I thought I was going to choke, but then I pulled through! Tasha practiced with me for two hours last night."

"The Black Widow knows about your plans?"

Peter nodded.

"Tasha knows everything."

"Does she know about the-"

"Yeah."

"And about the time when-"

"Yeah."

"And what about-"

"She knows that, too."

Ned let out a reverent "Whooow."

Then he thought of something else.

"What if the Captain calls the other Avengers for backup, thinking you are in trouble?"

"I told Karen to inform Friday to ignore any assemble requests made by Steve, right after my phone call with him."

"So that's what you were typing on your phone earlier."

Peter nodded, then suddenly looked down the street in front of them, Hope simultaneously lifted his head from where it had been resting on his paws.

"Get your camera ready, Cap is closing in."

Ned did just that, and forever captured on film as one (very sweaty) Steve Rogers ran full speed to the two of them.

"Peter!"

He didn't take long to reach the two teens, even with an excited Hope jumping up and around him to greet the super soldier.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Are you two okay? Is there a new villain? What's the situation? I called for backup, the others should be here shortly."

Knowing they would not, Peter grabbed for Hope to hold the enthusiastic Pitbull at bay, and waited for Steve to finish with his visual assessment of any possibly sustained injuries. Then he grinned.

"Quick, the one needing your help is inside!"

He grabbed the blonde's arm and unceremoniously pulled him through the shelter doors, a still filming Ned and tail wagging Hope right behind them.

_

Andrew was just getting some of the forms for new owners in order, when the automatic doors of the entrance opened with a ding, causing him to abandon his task for later.

He did a double take when non other than Captain America, Steve Rogers, in civilian (and kinda sweat stained) clothes was dragged in by a familiar looking teenager. Followed by another teenager holding a camcorder fixed on the american icon, and a familiar looking Pitbull.

Since his brain was obviously not equipped to sort through everything at once, he focused on the issue that was the easiest to resolve.

"Hey! You are that kid that was here with Tony Stark, right?"

Said kid grinned and proceeded to drag Captain freaking America to the front desk.

"Yes! I remember you too! I'm Peter, by the way. I see you did some remodeling with the place."

Andrew smiled and shook the teen's hand.

"Hi Peter, I'm Andrew. And yes, thanks to Mr. Stark's generous donation, we were able to expand quite a bit. Even got some space out back, for the bigger ones to run a little."

"That's great!"

"You aren't here to return your dog, are you?"

"Never! Hope is ohana, and ohana means family."

"Good, good. Say, quick question, kid. Is that man with you Steve Rogers, aka Captain America?"

"He is."

"Peter."

The authoritative voice of the living american legend, pulled Peter and Andrew out of their little conversation, and brought their full attention on him. Steve, for his part, after having scanned the buildings lobby for possible threats, or other dangerous things, and valiantly ignoring the camera Peter's friend kept trained on him the whole time, took a deep breath.

Calm, be calm.

"Peter, why am I here?"

The teen grinned brightly.

"Rescue mission."

Calm, remain calm.

"And who, exactly, needs to be rescued?"

The grin got brighter.

"Well, whoever you decide on taking home with you. Though I've always kinda pegged you for a dog person, so maybe we should start with them."

Calm, calm, calm, you fought in wars, soldier. Keep calm.

"Son, I'm not getting a dog."

The kid shrugged.

"Okay, the cats here are great too! Or maybe you want a bird? Some of these have a pretty long lifespan, you know? We can also look at the smaller animals. They have ferrets, and chinchillas, and rabbits-"

You fought aliens, and an insane robot, your boyfriend was brainwashed into trying to kill you and one of your best friends is Tony Stark! If you can live through all that, you can get through this insanity too.

"-though I really think you should get a dog. It just fits, you know?"

Calm, calm.

"Peter, I am not getting a dog!"

-

"So, this is Colonel. He is a mixed breed of unknown origins, though the shelter worker said that there is definitely some German Shepard in there."

Steve was met with the non blinking eyes of his fellow Avengers and friends, and their assorted families, who were for once all in attendance in the tower's common floor living room.

The Barton kids (minus Nathaniel, who was busy spreading mashed potatoes everywhere that wasn't his mouth, and especially his father at the moment) and Peter were playing with the two dogs.

Then Clint (who really didn't look at all intimidating with a toddler on his lap and mashed potatoes all over his face) was staring imploringly at his wife, Laura skillfully ignored her husband, Natasha went over to Peter to congratulate him on his successful manipulation of another human being, Sam groaned about not scooping up any poop, Bucky joined the kids and dogs on the floor, Pepper shook her head, May refilled both her, Laura's and Pepper's wine glasses, Bruce hid a smile in his book, and Tony almost fell off the couch, he was laughing so hard.

"Your dog has a higher military rank than you!"

-

end chapter 1

Next up: Bucky and Sam :-)

[doomonfilm]

Review : Joker (2019)

Cesar Romero transformed the character from an idea on a page to a villain on the screen.  Jack Nicholson made the character cool.  Mark Hamill gave the performance that most fans resonate with to this day.  Heath Ledger pushed the boundaries of method acting, tainting the character with real life tragedy.  Jared Leto made a mockery of the character.  If the early critical and audience reactions mean anything, Joaquin Phoenix may soon be king of the iconic titular character of his latest film, Joker. 

Aspiring comedian Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) spends his days as a clown for hire at Ha-Ha’s, a day-labor company where Fleck floats from gig to gig picking up a fast buck.  After being attacked by a group of kids, Arthur’s co-worker Randall (Glenn Fleshler) gives him a gun so that he can protect himself.  When not working, Arthur cares for his sick mother Penny Fleck (Frances Conroy), who spends her time watching late-night TV host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro) and writing mysterious letters to billionaire Thomas Wayne (Brett Cullen).  After meeting single mother Sophie (Zazie Beetz) and inviting her to a comedy show, Arthur is soon fired from his job when a gun falls out of his pant leg during a performance at a children’s hospital.  While riding home from his firing, Arthur is accosted by three businessmen on the subway, and in an act of self-defense turned murder, he kills all three.  The killing gives Arthur a sense of purpose and self-understanding that he had yet to experience, sending him on a path of chaos and destruction, all in the name of further self-understanding.

Joker is an incredibly unique approach to an iconic character, and a breath of fresh air in terms of a character study in terms of execution.  Due to the history of the Joker character in terms of his clear actions set against his purposely vague origin, we are presented with what I’ve dubbed a ‘front-loaded backstory’, where we are searching for starting points to understand and connect to the Joker moments we know so well.  Much of that is presented in terms of Arther Fleck’s mental disorder that he shares with his mother, his mother’s deception in regards to her connection with Thomas Wayne and Arthur’s familial origins, and how Arthur views society at large.  His laugh is connected to his disorder, his garb and clown makeup is attributed to his former job and comedic aspirations, and his undying connection to Batman is further enhanced due to a purposefully messy origin story.  His nihilistic nature is really what is focused on and explored in Joker, as Fleck learns that his wiring causes him to find pleasure in what should be pain, while simultaneously inspiring many in similar positions to take to the streets in protest of the same things that scare and sadde Fleck. 

The world that Todd Phillips creates was the most fascinating part of the film, in my opinion.  The classic Warner Brothers logo and titling make the film feel old, as well as the color timing and some of the costuming, but there are many modern day elements present as well, like the Wayne subway system or the graffiti found throughout the city.  Gotham and Arkham Asylum are both mentioned directly, but there are many heavy allusions to New York as well : the sanitation workers strike, the rat epidemic, and Fleck’s bizarro-world Donald Goines style killing all echo New York more so than fictional Gotham.  Wall Street is even mentioned directly in regards to the three Wayne Enterprises workers.  There is also a nice mix of direct and indirect (in my opinion) references to a handful of films... Taxi Driver and You Were Never Really Here need no explanation, nor does The King of Comedy (which works subtly due to the Fleck character, and directly due to Robert De Niro appearing in both films).  Some of the more unique references, however, are found when we take a closer look at Fleck... his connection with his mother and their fascination with TV gave me Requiem for a Dream feels.  His delusional nature and the way he projects his thoughts onto the world felt similar to Jacob’s Ladder at times.  Even Fleck’s self-aggrandizing dances, specifically the one he does in the bathroom after finding his power in the wake of killing the Wayne Enterprises workers, gave me feels of John Cusack’s dance he does for Catherine Keener after bedding her in Being John Malkovich.  All of this texture, combined with the blurring of lines between Gotham and New York, is really what makes this film work.  

On a technical level, this film is an astonishing achievement for Phillips, and one that shows incredible growth as a director.  The dark, reality-based humor from some of his lighter films is present, but the laser focus on it puts it front and center as the driving force that inspires his Fleck character.  The brooding score is offset by unique, upbeat music cues, bringing a manic-depressive feel to the soundtrack of the film.  Phillips uses EXTREMELY subtle touches to differentiate between Joker’s real and delusional moments, but the subtlety is so nuanced that it is not always immediately obvious in regards to the nature of what we’re seeing.  Joker’s wardrobe and makeup dance around the traditional presentation of the iconic comic and film character for the majority of the film, eventually landing on something that is close enough to the standard presentation, while still being unique to the world created by Phillips for Joker.  The textured city, as well as the unclear time/era of the film due to allusions to real moments in New York history, gives the narrative an uncanny valley feel while we search for something distinguishing to hang onto the film in terms of era and location. 

While many have been surprised by the depth of Joaquin Phoenix’s performance, it seems to me that he channeled the best parts of his performances in The Master and You Were Never Really Here in order to hone on in the troubled persona that alludes to the creation of the Joker.  Robert De Niro brings the charm of a late night host and comedian that translates into a sort of fatherly inspiration for the Fleck character, paralleling the characters as diametric opposites, and fueling the fire for their eventual meeting.  Frances Conroy is a living mirror to hold up against Phoenix in terms of the troubled mindstate he portrays, and the possibility/inevitability of his future.  Zazie Beatz is used mostly in an accessory manner, but her presence helps stir the pot of confusion in terms of reality and delusion, based on her demeanor.  Brett Cullen brings a darker, sinister and less humane feel to the Wayne patriarch, symbolizing human greed and power more so than class and admirable qualities.  Glenn Fleshler allows himself to wallow in a swinging, two-face nature that sways from ‘friend’ to ‘foe’, sometimes within the same conversation, towards the Fleck character and his coworkers.  Bill Camp and Shea Whigham get to dive into the old school NYPD detective energy, channeling films like The French Connection despite their small role.  Brief appearances by Marc Maron, Leigh Gill, Josh Pais, Brian Tyree Henry, Douglas Hodge, Bryan Callen and Justin Theroux (uncredited) round things out.

I think due to my personal connection with Heath Ledger’s career (and my personal dislike of it), and the way he won my respect in his portrayal of the Joker, he will always be my choice for the best.  That being said, Joker is a true shining achievement on the level of Logan in terms of how it takes a superhero/comic property and turns it into a gripping, emotional film.  As much as I’d like to see a Joaquin Phoenix-style Joker butt heads with a Robert Pattison-portrayed Batman, I am willing to accept this project as the beautiful one-off that it has been advertised to be.  Definitely worth seeing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it makes some noise when awards season arrives.

[curemoonliite]

Premiere Nebula Character Profile: President Dimanche Asteria

I just realized that I haven’t really done intros or profiles for my civilian Premiere Nebula characters, and I aim to right this wrong as soon as possible.  This is going to be a little more of a straightforward profile with facts about the character, rather than a self-introduction.  (Since she’s one of Olympia’s three presidents, we can handwave this as her really, really not having enough time to take on personal interviews.)  She’s growing to be one of my favorite civilian characters, so here’s a bit about her:

--Olympia, as a country, tends to have longer 7-year presidential terms with no real term limits.  (This will change over the course of the series after various conspiracies against the presidency come out.)  Therefore, President Asteria has been through about two-and-a-half terms by the time the Premiere Nebula timeline begins.  She’s a very popular politician, and I imagine she could easily be elected for four terms like FDR.

--Asteria herself was a semi-popular athlete who became far more well-known as a politician.  Was probably on one of the lower-tier teams that didn’t get as much public spotlight.  Retired early to go into politics.

--Like many iconic female political leaders, she’s viewed as a glamorous figure, whom many consider to be one of the most beautiful women in the country.  Her family came from France, and while they’ve lived in Olympia for many generations, President Asteria still has the dark wavy hair and Mediterranean complexion you might see on a French model.  (Though, like with Michelle Obama today, there’s probably a group of people who crush on her more for her muscular arms than anything.  She still keeps up an athletic regimen, guys.)

--Almost everyone refers to her on a last-name basis, partially because she’s a president and partially because...when she grew up, it was the hot trend to name babies after the day of the week they were born on, so her name literally translates to “Sunday” in French.  She doesn’t mind it much, but referring to her as “Dimanche” is still seen as a big sign that you’re in her inner circle--and that she very much wants to keep you in her inner circle.

--Asteria holds a precarious position in Olympian politics--while she’s respected as the senior among her fellow presidents, some see her as a flighty type who has had numerous romantic encounters with fellow politicians.  Notably, she’s been associated with two men, Hassow Tsukimura and Alain Sparks, who were at one time vying against each other for a presidential title.  Despite the potential scandal involved with dating two presidential candidates, Asteria was fully chaste with both of them and dated them at different times, eventually marrying the future President Tsukimura.

--She’s married to an up-and-coming senator, Reynaldo Clow, and does not appreciate any conspiracy theories about her past romances or her marrying for power.  Still, since Reynaldo Clow is being considered for future presidency, that doesn’t stop people from making comparisons between him and President Tsukimura.

--Dimanche is about 12-15 years older than Reynaldo, which isn’t really treated as a weird thing in Olympia.  This means that, even though Dimanche is at least a generation older than Omega, the two are still sisters-in-law.

--She has a seventeen-year-old son from her past marriage with President Tsukimura, Leo.  Leo, like his father, was a gifted child, and is already interning at a nearby hospital for an advanced high school program.  Asteria’s very proud of him, but...

--Leo was born a twin.  His sister died mysteriously when they were both five years old, while she was under President Tsukimura’s care.  President Asteria has never forgiven her ex-husband for this, and thoroughly believes that he had something to do with the death.

--Even after twelve years, Asteria is very clearly depressed about her daughter’s death, though she hides it from the media.  In the beginning of her presidency, she was a much more naive, lenient figure, but it’s often said that the death made her more jaded and skeptical.

--For this reason, Asteria’s relationship with her bodyguard clone, Miki, is stronger than the ones any of the other presidents have.  Miki is treated as more of a surrogate daughter than an employee--and Koto has felt jealous about this more than once.  (To the point where I’m even planning a potential AU story where Koto ends up as Asteria’s bodyguard instead of Tsukimura’s.)

--To this day, she’s the only president with any knowledge of the Manufacturer or what he does to Actresses.  This happened somewhat by accident, as she and Leo ended up caught in a Faerie Star trap.  Leo filled her in, since he’d been investigating the Actresses alongside Omega and Valka.  Once she finds out what’s been going on, she becomes determined to launch an independent investigation of her own, thoroughly backed by her contacts in Olympian government.

--For many years, the only person who understood her struggle as a mother who lost her child was Alain Sparks, former presidential candidate and (more importantly) Valka’s father.  The minute she finds out Valka is an Actress, this sets off even more red flags, and she often tries to counsel Valka and Omega...and that odd blue-haired girl who’s often seen by their side, who always seems insistent on refusing her help.

--She doesn’t get the chance to learn about the Manufacturer’s identity organically--she makes the mistake of enlisting Stelle Blaise, a certain “orphaned Actress” who’d spent years under President Tsukimura’s care.  Stelle is known for being a rather rash Actress, and drops the bombshell on Asteria without thinking too much about how it would affect her.  

“Oh, you know, that was all a ton of bull, he drew up adoption forms for me so people wouldn’t get too suspicious, I was kidnapped as a newborn, so I never really got to know who my parents were--”

Meanwhile: *President_Asteria.exe has stopped working*

--Stelle tries her hardest, but she isn’t always the best at understanding people.  President Asteria still accepts the adoption papers as real, if only because she’s a lonely mother who wants to take in as many lost and abused children as possible.

--While she’s very obviously rattled by the revelation that her ex-husband has been doing this, she’s not super surprised either.  She’s always been a little suspicious of him, after all...especially when the blue-haired Actress is severely injured in battle, and the DNA scan matches her to one Io Tsukimura.

--Finding her not-quite-dead daughter is a mixed bag for Asteria.  Obviously, she’s glad to have her in her life and adores her more than anything, but as a woman who values justice above all else, she feels that the way Io has been made into a child soldier and magical tool is almost more painful than death.  Almost immediately after she finds Io, she takes her into her house and fills Reynaldo in on the whole situation.

--Io often feels as though she’s too “rough around the edges” to be the presidential daughter people really want her to be.  As a result, she didn’t want her mother to know of her existence until she had genuinely reached that ideal.  Of course, Asteria doesn’t care if her daughter is an emotionally troubled, gothy film enthusiast who curses like a sailor, because at least she’s back where she belongs.  And as far as she’s concerned, if those good-for-nothing tabloids give a damn about it, they’ll have hell to pay with her lawyers.

[sienna-maxwell]

[ saoirse ronan, twenty one, cisfemale, she/her ]  ━ hey, I just saw [ sienna maxwell ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ most of her life ], and you can catch them around town working as a [ employee at the reel deal ]. I hear they’re known to be [ friendly & mature ] and [ sarcastic & reserved ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ films with a strong female character, crying at the cinema, classic rock, trivia games ].

hey guys! sorry i fell asleep yesterday, but i am aimee! I'm from the small french part of canada and i'm so excited to be here and play the lovely face of saoirse!! anyway, let's talk about my girl sienna now.

sienna was born in philadelphia but when she was four years old, her family moved to crownsville. she still goes often to philadephia to visit some family there, but she considers herself a crownsville girl and she loved this town so much.

she is the middle child, and grew up in a pretty normal household. her father was a lawyer and her mother dropped out of med school to take care of her children. she is a  'smother', but for Sienna she's the best but she would never say it out loud. they always fight but at the end of the day, they are always there for each other.

one thing she shared with her father was their love for movies, his father had tried to become an actor before he got into law school and he passed down his love for movies to sienna. at first, she wanted to be an actress but every time she found out more about movies she wanted to do something different like directing, producing or writing.

she always knew she wanted to be in the film industry and her parents never tried to stop her, but they never really thought she would pursue a career in it. they thought that by the time she had to go to college she would become a doctor or a lawyer but oh surprise! this girl, still wanted to be involved with films.

she was accepted into nyu and her mother tried several times to convince her to find a school nearby because that's how overprotective she was but eventually, she understood that was her dream and so, sienna moved to new york

new york was everything to her and she really loved her time there where she is double majoring in cinema studies and dramatic writing.

unfortunately, sienna's father passed away shortly after she finished her junior year in college and she decided to take a year off to spend time with her family but has plans to go back to new york in the next semester to finish her last year. however, she currently works at the local movie theatre. 

in terms of personality, she’s usually very approachable and friendly, however, she relies on her sarcastic sense humor which often can be seen as too aggressive. she also doesn’t know how to show her emotions, especially anger and as a result of this, she often comes as passive aggressive.

although she has been working on this, she tends to say what’s on her mind and has no filter. however, if she considers you her friend she will always be there to listen to you and no matter what she will have your back. many people tend to think she is too reserved or cold, but she is actually an open book, she trusts people too easily and sometimes that has led her to some big disappointments.

connections

listen, i'm an angst queen, but i'm also a sucker brotps, anyway gimme all the plots

best friend, cousins, siblings, fwb, ex-boyfriends or ex-girlfriends (she's bi), childhood friends, clients, film friends, friends from new york, anything really.

[buddaimond]

Extracted Q&A interview of Fim Stage with Claire Denis regarding High Life and Robert Pattinson: 

In summary:

Rob waited for 4 to 5 years to work with Claire Denis and told her he is not too young anymore to be accepted for her film.

While shooting High Life in Cologne, Denis was going through a very personal loss

A recommended English writer who was supposed to help supervise Denis’ first English language movie didn’t believe in casting Rob (* I WANT NAMES! I suspect it is Zadie Smith) but eventually didn’t get to work with her because she just didn’t jive with Denis n many levels.

Rob saying a line inspired by Juliet’s father (in Romeo & Juliet)

High Life is far from ready. “Robert is going to do voice, post-production, at end of May or something like that, and mixing is in June. In the meantime, I hope for some special-effect add-on.“

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do you find there’s a different energy when you’re working at a faster pace?

I never had a long period. It never happened to me that I had a big budget. I would say that my budgets are always too small for what I want, and I accept it as too-tight jeans because I thought, “Maybe it will be better for my life.” You know what I mean? I think it’s giving me a sort of fierce energy to fight against all odds. If I was at ease, maybe I would stay and bed and do nothing. But this film, I’d been waiting to start shooting this film, High Life, with Robert Pattinson, and, every month, there was this thing: “No, let’s wait another three weeks.” Then four years –five years, almost — went through, and Robert was still waiting, and I felt I was going to die. It’s not the waiting — it’s the non-waiting. Then when I was offered to do this film with a small budget, I said yes — because it will wake up my senses. I was in a paralyzed situation where I was ashamed to have Robert waiting on me. Ashamed to be lied. And this offer, wow, was like pure joy.

On a more practical level, I think about the potential for exhaustion.

This time, it was terribly exhausting because I’ve been waiting so long to do High Life, and then, as soon as I finished this one, I was told, “You have to be ready on September 4,” and I knew I was not ready. The art department will not be ready. The only person ready to be ready was Robert, actually. And then I lost Patricia Arquette, and then Juliette came to me and said, “I want to replace her.” There was a lot of friendly moments where Robert told me this great thing: “You see, Claire, you thought I was too young four years ago. Maybe now you will accept me because I am older.” It’s true that, at the beginning, I told him I wanted an older guy, but I don��t know.

It was painful for me, but probably also painful because I was breathless and because I was losing my mother in the same time, and I was shooting in Germany. My mind was always occupied by the fact that I wanted to be in Paris, holding her in my arms; and, on the other hand, I didn’t want to betray the actors. So I was always split, and I don’t think it is the saddest moment of my life, because it happened only once in life, that you are losing a mother. So I never experienced that before. It’s not like a love story, you know? I knew I was losing my mother, and I was shooting in Cologne — four hours away from Paris by train — and it was an extremely strange thing. Maybe I gave to the film, maybe, a sort of sadness, but I put all my trust in Robert — as if I was telling him, “I’m here for you. Otherwise, I would be in the train already, to the hospital.” I’m almost crying.

....

And it’s partly about parenthood, right?

It’s about parenthood, yeah. It’s, in a way, parenthood like 35 Shots of Rum — father and daughter.

When I last talked to Olivier Assayas, he talked to me about supervising his movies’ English-language subtitles. Do you have a hand in that process?

When I did High Life, the English producer introduced me to an English writer, and, for some reason, I was curious to meet her. But, for some reason, I was afraid that there was absolutely… although I really agreed to work with her, but she was so distant. We had no connection at all, even in literature, even in music, even in casting. She kept telling me that Robert Pattinson was the worst casting ever. Then I went on doing the film, only with Andrew, who is also working with Olivier translating. I asked him to be with me. I didn’t want anyone else, because, otherwise, a supervisor is someone who is not even interested in the film. They’re only interested in a superiority of English practice, and this is fake.

I remember that there was in my script… [Puts hands over face] I’m crazy. Because I wrote the script in French first and it was translated. There was a place I called the “Love Machine,” and it was a place where people could go and have their own sexual fantasies. This writer told me, “‘Love Machine’ is stupid. It’s a song. It’s nothing.” And I said, “Yeah, but it helped me to understand the meaning of it.” And it became the Fuck Box. But without her, because I thought, “She’s right, probably.” But I need, to move from “Love Machine” to “Fuck Box,” this Tindersticks vision of what it was. Because Stuart said, “Oh, it’s the box.” And I said, “Oh, the box. Yeah. Great. Fuck Box. Suddenly, this is really helping me.”

I feel I should mention that my bag has your former collaborator, Rivette, on it. I’m a huge fan of your documentary on him, of course.

Oh, no! Beautiful. Great. During High Life, I was thinking of Romeo & Juliet, the words of the father of Juliet — some lines. And he was telling his daughter, “My little baggage.” Meaning: he’s thinking she’s mine, but she’s also baggage, heavy to carry. I thought this was so beautiful, so I told Robert, “Would you mind to add that into the dialogue,” and I thought he was going to say, “No, this is too old-fashioned. How could I speak like, ‘Oh, my little baggage.'” Finally he loved it and he did it. So I think supervising English is something that has to do with song and reading — songs and sounds and reading a feeling. Like going from “Love Machine” to “Fuck Box.” It’s the perfect example, for me, of real English.

So your English is actually very good, if you can go from “Love Machine” to “Fuck Box.”

Yeah. Thank you.

You’ve had one great film open this year, so here’s hoping for another.

I hope. Yeah, I will finish in June. I think Robert is going to do voice, post-production, at end of May or something like that, and mixing is in June. In the meantime, I hope for some special-effect add-on.

Full Article:

https://thefilmstage.com/features/claire-denis-on-the-emotional-journey-of-high-life-and-how-filmmaking-is-like-murder/

[vigilante-rpg]

Welcome Rachel! We’re pleased to announce your audition for Garrett Hall / The Heir has been accepted! Please send your account into the main within the next 24 hours. We can’t wait to have you join us!

{{ PLAYER INFORMATION }}

NAME: Rachel

AGE: 19

TIMEZONE: PST

PRONOUNS: She/her, though I’m pretty relaxed about pronouns addressed to myself.

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m not normally busy over the summer. I could write at least once a day unless executive dysfunction takes hold, which isn’t a normal situation for me. My free time will slim during the weekdays when September starts due to school, but I keep my schedule spaced out so I can get writing and other things done.

PREVIOUS ROLEPLAY EXPERIENCE: I first made a role-play blog in 7th or 8th grade, and have rped for several years afterward on Tumblr and other platforms such as Google Drive, Discord, and RP Adventures. While I’ve had good times and made a couple close friends online, I have admittedly left Tumblr altogether because none of the communities I found were safe spaces for me. But I’ve had Karo, Lance, and Rachel advocate for this group and I’m really missing a quality rp experience

PERSONAL TUMBLR CONTACT: Removed for Privacy

TRIGGERS: None that I know of right now. I have some pretty strong trypophobia? But the things that I see as triggers are very personal, and not something that can be easily set off online.

{{ CHARACTER INFORMATION }}

CHARACTER NAME: Garrett Hall

PRONOUNS: He/him

AGE: 30

ORIGIN: The Heir

FACE CLAIM: Dan Stevens (Primary) or Arthur Darvill (Secondary)

QUOTE: “I never wanted this destiny. But now, I need it more than ever.”

OCCUPATION: Having recently left a lofty career as a lawyer outside of Newhaven, Garrett has recently gained a job as an accountant for a humble bakery. The explanation will be included in his biography.

PERSONALITY: [Intelligent] Even without the dual wielded powers inherited from his parents, Garrett grew up a prodigy of all kinds. From a young age he mastered languages from the English, Russian, and French he heard daily, to Spanish, sign language, and Mandarin. Kinesthetic intelligence developed in his training and play, both effectively honing his body for a future of constant movement. In school, he set academic records that have yet to be beaten. For much of his childhood, he was educated in classes above most children his age until his parents moved him back down, rightfully fearing the neglect of his emotional needs. With the focus on his own growth, Garrett came to brush off those who seemed lesser than him, whether he meant to or not. Sometimes he did. Without establishing connections with the rest of the essentials for life, Vlad and Chantelle worried for his future. However, Garrett refused to ease his burdens, continuing to cultivate his mind and the skills he proved good at. After all, it’s what all the people wanted from him, right?

[Blunt] One of the few things Garrett struggled with has always been social interaction. He can and has come off to others as rude and irritable, not just because he is, but also because he lacks the understanding of sensing others’ emotions and following that to a proper response. As a result, he simply says and does what is on his mind.

[Emotional] While he would argue his brain to be his greatest strength, Garrett is almost entirely emotionally driven, and rather impulsive at that. He is the type of person to act first and apologize later than to ask for permission or another’s point of view. As much as he pretends to be an impervious wall to those around him, Garrett is prone to wear sad eyes and scrunch his face to avoid a fit of helpless snickers. Plus, there’s the avoidance of sad films; he has made many people uncomfortable with gross tears. He has also grown acutely aware of his personal traits and needs, as well as the ways his actions affect the lives of others. This may be the biggest cause for his return to Newhaven.

[Observational] This trait is somewhat tied to those addressed before. Garrett is smart; he sees things and does everything he can to understand the who, where, when, why, how, and what to do next. It is much easier for him to go through this experience with the theoretical, scientific, mathematical, and rhetorical than it with the human mind. Humans are not so predictable, and Point A does not always lead to Point B with them.

[A Grade A Asshole] That’s it. This is him. We’re done here. In slightly more seriousness, he can really be a jerk. This is important when connected to his impulsivity and inability to understand people. Garrett has made a number of mistakes that hurt other individuals in his own self-destructive spiral. When he says and does what he believes needs to be done, his methods can be… questionable at best. 

[Troubled] Both Garrett and Legacy behave complete differently for the same reason: he doesn’t know how to amend the person he is with the person he wants or needs to be, as well as what is expected from him. His entire sense of self has been fractured, and it shows. Garrett attempts to push himself almost completely from the kind of person most would accept, much less want to be around. Legacy is quite the opposite, the golden boy he was fated to be since the very beginning. But neither of them are the real him. He doesn’t know how to get that back.

BIOGRAPHY: On March 28, 1990, everyone in Newhaven knew about the first son of Gryphon and Bogatyr, heroes of The Guild. The journey of Gryphon’s pregnancy was followed by the public since she first left the front lines to preserve her health and that of the baby. His name was never released, of course, lest the heroes, his parents, would be revealed.

They called him Fledgling, born with the beak of an an eagle and destined to follow in the footsteps of his father and mother.

Behind the mask, the Halls were a loving, if somewhat overinvested nuclear family. Vladimir Hall, cheerful father and knightlike superhero, lived as an interpreter of numerous Slavic languages for immigrants such as himself. Chantelle Prevost-Hall had more of a challenge to balance out her heroics and her civilian life as a popular stunt actress, but she was more than up to the task for what she felt was the right thing to do. They adored Garrett, and later their second son, Vincent, who inherited none of the family’s powers. But if Chantelle were to look back, she would see that her presence in the boys’ emotional conflicts was a place she fell short, and where she was needed more than ever. For Vlad, he was kind, he was affectionate, but the man simply could not empathize with his sons of a different generation and culture. Where they faltered to meet their children’s needs, they compensated in support of their education, social lives, and especially Garrett’s own unique abilities.

Along with his astonishing prowess throughout his years of education, Garrett was trained in his superhuman abilities — plural after his secondary power manifested at age 4 — so that he would flourish as a sidekick to the heroic power couple Gryphon and Bogatyr, and eventually ascend to become a hero of The Guild. Everybody knew this. People gossiped, journalists followed the masked child’s every move, and where they failed to catch anything of note, they could glean some off of the proud parents themselves. Nobody was more excited for Fledgling’s next development than them.

That is why Garrett never told them how he really felt. His fears, his anxieties and insecurities were clutched to his chest, and he never spoke a word of his peers and other adults who saw him as the loner, a shortcut to their own successes, or the perfect target to push into the dirt. When he came home with a soggy bookbag and a busted lip, he said he fell into a fountain. When given the silent treatment by his younger brother, powerless and painfully average in everything but heart, he said he had eaten the last of Vincent’s favorite snack. When someone spoke about Fledgling and his sparkling future, he smiled and kept his mouth shut, even though he screamed on the inside, “Does anyone care what I think?!”

The last flickering light of hope turned to smoke when he learned the answer. Almost 18 years old, freshly dubbed a hero in his own right, and he had nobody. Even his best friend, his favorite person, his first love, only looked up to the heroic side of the mask. Just like everyone else.

Fledgling was so lucky, wasn’t he? To be the child of heroes, to be anywhere close to Spectrum, to be a hero himself.

That’s not me.

The rest of that day was a blur. He went to his room, threw on a jacket, got in his first — and only — fight with his dad, and then he was gone. He doesn’t remember what he said that evening. Only the rage, the guilt, the fear, but not enough to pretend he could ever make his family proud. Fledging was declared to have stepped down a week later, when the Halls had to realize that Garrett wasn’t coming home.With no contact, no leads, no motivation for him to completely run away, it was as though Garrett simply dissolved into thin air.

The years following were just as foggy when Garrett tries to look back. He wandered the streets, learned what it’s like to fight for his life, hitchhiked out of the city, and worked the odd job here and there until a kind samaritan had pity and took him in. He got into college with a double major in law and accounting, then law school because you can take the boy away from heroics, but you can’t take the hero out of the boy. He became a lawyer in the city on the outskirts, and a good one at that. It wasn’t until the last year that he was found by his brother, now an officer who begged and bothered for his return.

He got through to Garrett. This was not the life he wanted to lead anymore. In the span of a day, he quit his job, said goodbye to the person who took him in those years back, and disappeared into the night. The second time he ran, this time to the very place he yearned to leave behind.

His abrupt resignation would not bode well if he applied to another law firm, and between the deskwork and the effort outside of the office, he would hardly have time to have a full night’s rest. It was Vincent’s suggestion to start small instead, so Garrett pulled out his second degree and took the first accounting job he could get, at a bakery just mere blocks from the apartment he rented out. It was the perfect foundation to slip into the evening sky for the first time in years, wings bared for all to see.

After everything he did, it all lead back to putting on those golden shackles.

{{ VIGILANTE INFORMATION }}

VIGILANTE NAME: Legacy

PRONOUNS: He/him

APPEARANCE: In his teens, Fledgling was designed by his parents a fun little getup of dark gray nylon striped with scarlet lightning bolts beneath his armor. The material of the armor (described in powers) remains a mystery to both Bogatyr and his son. It appears as strong meteoric iron, but has never been broken beyond a few significant dents, which is repaired on its own when released from the wielder. In that time, he always wore his helmet to conceal his identity, shaped like the head of an elaborate eagle for his gryphon traits within.

Years later, it is hard to tell if the newly named Legacy has changed completely or not at all. The body armor stays the same as it was, though larger to fit his grown physique. Underneath, he bears a flexible black shirt with a jagged gold stripe up the front and two slits near his shoulder blades, a fairly plain pair of snug black trousers, golden bracelets that reach from wrist to mid-forearm, and a set of sandals that shift to wrap around his legs when his feet transform into the claws of a lion. When without his helmet for protection, Legacy wears a gold and silver masquerade mask of a gryphon, similar to the kind his mother used to own.

SIGIL: A heraldic emblem of a gryphon in silver.

COLOUR SCHEME: Goldenrod (#DAA520), silver (#ACACAC), and black (#000000)

FIGHTING STYLE: Close combat, minimalizing serious damage.

CLASS TYPE: Offensive 

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral

POWERS: [Gryphon Physiology] From his mother, Legacy possesses a genetic structure that can shift from fully human to a more animalistic form. This ability is not powered by emotions or the person’s control, but is merely another body for him to inhabit. However, the more he changes at once, the more painful the process becomes. He has to physically make alterations to his muscles, bones, and every part of his body, which is hardly a natural effort. The most he can accomplish without causing significant injury to himself is manifest his wings, talons, claws, and bird-like eyes. Garrett has only tried to fully transform once as a teenager, but he failed impressively and never made an attempt since.

His strength and other physical attributes rely on his own fitness, except for the strength of his wings, massive and powerful to carry the weight of a grown man and then some, thus entirely capable of blunt damage should he risk injury to one of his most sensitive body parts. Another consequence is that his clothes get torn from the transformation if they are not specifically altered for this ability.

Gryphon and Bogatyr discovered his inheritance as soon as he was born; it was undeniable when they saw a beak in place of a wrinkled nose and mouth, and a head of pale, downy feathers. His parents made the decision while the medics tended to the newborn. They kept his identity a top secret from the disappointed city, known only to the doctors and the closest members of The Guild as they trained him parallel to his growing up.

[Armor/Weapon Manifestation] “He is his father’s son,” said Gryphon, hiding a smile behind her hand as Bogatyr slammed the door open with 4-year-old Garrett swinging a knife behind him.

“Mama! Look what I made!”

Bogatyr is able to create a full suit of armor around his body as well as an impressive range of weaponry as long as they are predominantly composed of metal. Legacy, on the other hand, can only make himself a sophisticated shortsword, shield, and the very basics of armor: visor, breastplate, shoulder guards, and simple coverings for his arms and legs. This ability also lasts for no more than a couple hours without causing significant strain (one and a half hours while part-gryphon), and can only bear up to the force of twice its mass without visible damage, likely due to a weaker version of the mutated gene. But the flexibility works well when he shifts forms with Gryphon’s power. For both men, the properties of their manifestations has no match to any known type of metal, but most closely resembles heat treated L6 Bainite. Between them and those who worked on research with them, they suspect the armor may be connected to iron and other materials from their bodies. For obvious health-related reasons, though, there have been no tests on either Bogatyr or Legacy.

{{ STATS }}

OBSCURITY: 1/5 (-1 obscurity)

CONTROL: 4/5

LUCK:  3/5

---

STRENGTH: 3/5

SPEED: 4/5

CHARISMA: 2/5

INTUITION: 3/5 (-1 intuition)

AGILITY: 3/5

STAMINA: 3/5

INTELLIGENCE: 5/5

DURABILITY: 4/5

{{ EXTRAS }}

HEADCANONS: -Even though he contains enough issues to fill a personal Pandora’s Box, Garrett does not come from a life of abuse or neglect. At this point in time, he’s come to accept that a number of different causes – miscommunication, insecurity, undiagnosed anxiety and depression, and outside forces that would take a second list to name off – resulted in his ultimate act of running away. He only wants to make his round of apologies and decide where to go next.

-He’s a devoted night owl, for better or for worse.

-Those from the Guild are likely to know his real identity.

-Because his father’s Russian, his mother’s French, and he was raised in Newhaven, poor Garrett speaks with an accent that is an unholy amalgamation of all three.

-Sometimes he tries to meme. Don’t let him.

-Legacy is surprisingly good at working with others. Garrett’s just an ass.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: -Garrett is part of Dimetre’s ex-lover/friend plot, but with a couple minor changes. He’s the character who inspired that plot, haha!

-Songs: Luck by American Authors, Stroke by Stroke from Jasper in Deadland, I Was Me - Imagine Dragons, You Don’t Know from Next To Normal, May I by Trading Yesterday, Lullaby for a Stormy Night by Vienna Teng

-Aesthetics: Papers and folders on a tabletop, the constellation Lyra, tears smearing the ink on a letter, golden wings, fallen angel, coffee with foam art, snowfall on a veranda, gleaming steel.

[writewhatyousee]

The Mechanic

The alarm clock shrieks its distorted buzz and I am forced yet again, to live another day. I actually prayed last night that the sleep fairies would take me with them, forever. But clearly, not even they wish to have me in their kingdom.

    I yawn and groan at the same time. And just like I do every morning, I smack the alarm clock with my fist and then cry, because – it’s just what I do.

    It takes me ages to pluck up the courage to get out of bed. My limbs are numb, my brain is tired (even though I had slept for eleven hours) and I have no zest for life.

    There is good reason as to why I feel so lifeless though. Johnny dumped me three months ago for blue-eyed, Swede, Greta. Our three year relationship ended as soon as he laid eyes on her GG sized boobs. I blame my mother, really. She was the one that hired Greta as her housekeeper. Even though Mother fired Greta, after finding the two of them in the midst of lovemaking on her lilac sofa, I still feel that she was partly responsible.

    I pat my eyes dry with my silky duvet, and desperately try not to think about Johnny. It’s hard not to, and it’s equally painful facing another nine hours in Nettie’s Salon. It’s soul destroying, pretending to be happy whilst styling hair of the ever-so-posh ladies. They openly boast about their secret love affairs; which makes it very tempting for me to drive the scissors away from their hairline, straight into their neck.

    I was never a psychopath but recently I have had terrible thoughts. Like now… I worm my way out of bed and contemplate phoning in sick. No hairdresser suffering depression should be allowed to handle any sharp apparatus. I decide then to search google for clarification. Surprisingly nothing shows up that’s relevant. There must be hundreds of depressed hairdressers out there, potential murders, but no clause stating that they should not continue in that sort of trade. But dammit, if I dare to puff my fag’s smoke in the direction of a non-smoker, it’s hugely frowned upon and one could even be convicted in certain circumstance. Crazy!

    I think too much!  I have been thinking for over an hour now. It’s too late for a shower, so I use a handful of wet wipes to freshen up my armpits and my stink area. I’ve just remembered that Miley Cyrus is coming into the salon today to have her hair shaved off for charity. Shit!

    This is what I mean… normal people would be up and roaring to meet the popstar queen. But not me. It’s completely slipped my mind, even though Megan had been going on about it for the past few months.

    I admit there is something terribly wrong with me!

    The ITV crew are going to be there filming the balding. I’m slowly feeling devilishly excited by that, and quickly pull on my black jeggings and orange cardigan. I’m not a huge Miley Cyrus fan but I’m eager to get a blade near her scalp – just because I can. My watch tells me there is no time to do anything else; I’m pretty certain my teeth won’t decay if I don’t brush them this one time.

 The heavens are angry and I reckon I have exactly two minutes to unlock my car door before the clouds burst.

  ‘Come on Manny!’ I plead with my nineteen-eighty-something VW.

    First falls a tiny droplet, landing on the tip of my nose. I continue struggling with the rusty lock, twisting and turning the key just like I’ve been doing for the past two years.

    ‘For fuck sakes! C’mon you stupid piece of shite!’ I shout. The rain is coming down harder and faster. Actually it’s more than rain, it’s hard and it hurts.

    By the time Manny allows me entry, I am soaking wet and bruised by the hail stones. God, my life sucks!

    I start up Manny. With a few turns of the key he eventually gives in and permits me to take to the road. Something doesn’t feel right though. Not that that is anything new, but there is a deafening clanking sound to his already noisy engine today.

    ‘Please,’ I beg him. ‘Just get me to work!’

    Manny is not as intelligent as Herbie. He makes no effort to crawl across the roundabout and decides to seize there, right in the centre of it.

    ‘Damn you!’ I shout.

    Cars zoom around me, hooting as they pass; as if I have done this on purpose. My heart is racing, I’m quite certain that any second from now, someone is going to ram up my arse, and that will be that. I blanket my eyes with my hands; I’m not afraid of dying.

    There comes a tapping on my window, and I open my eyes to find a dirty face staring at me.

    I roll down my window.

    ‘I’ll tow you away immediately,’ insists the dirty boy. ‘You are in extreme danger sitting here like this.’

    I nod in acceptance and watch him link my VW onto his four by four’s tow bar. We cross over the roundabout, and pull into the garage across the road.

    He brings his Range Rover to a standstill and speedily approaches me. ‘Are you okay?’

    ‘I have five minutes to get to work,’ I say, tapping my watch.

    ‘You aren’t getting there in this,’ he smirks, patting Manny’s rooftop.

    ‘Well, can you fix it really quickly? Please!’

    He didn’t seem bothered by the falling rain. He just stood there and let it wash over him, and I could just about see a spot of human flesh beneath the dirt.

    ‘No quick fix for this beauty, I’m afraid.’

    I didn’t like his sarcasm one bit. ‘Look. I have a very important client coming to see me. This is the one thing I can’t miss out on.’

    ‘I’m sorry miss. I haven’t a magic wand.’

    I felt mega irritated. If I wasn’t there to shave Miley’s head, Megan would. Imagine giving squealy Megan Bishop the pleasure of doing such a thing. She would gloat on for years about it and rub it in my face how she got to be on TV and all. I couldn’t even bear the thought of it.

    ‘Well, can you take me to work? Please. I’ll pay you and everything.’

    He sighed loudly, and twitched his nose. ‘I would love to, but I can’t as I’m the only mechanic here at the moment.’

    Shit! I reach for my bag, determined to tell Megan that she is not to lay a finger on Miley’s hair.

  ‘Bloody shit face!’ I shriek, emptying my entire bag’s contents on the passenger seat, hunting for my phone.

    ‘Can I use your phone?’

    ‘Of course. There’s one in reception.’

    I pull on the stiff door handle and force open the reluctant VW’s door. The boy pulls the door further open for me, and kindly leads me into the reception area.

    It’s typically a mans haven with all sorts of boyish ornaments. It’s also very dirty. He hands me a mobile telephone which I presume was white once but it’s so heavily covered with grease, it’s hard to be sure.

    I take it with caution. ‘Thank you.’

    I dial the salon’s number as fast as my fingers allow. Molly answers, with her usual put on French accent… don’t even ask me why she does that, I don’t know!

    ‘Molly, it’s me. I’m having a little problem getting there before nine thirty, Manny’s broken down again. Please halt Miley; don’t you dare let Megan shave her head! And can you come pick me up at the garage on Swan Street?’

    Molly doesn’t answer at once. I can hear she has the phone muffled with her hand.

    ‘Molly!’ I scream into the receiver.

    ‘Erm…’ she coughs. ‘Sorry Nikita, but she’s already started.’

    ‘What!’

    ‘Miley came in earlier than expected as she has a very busy schedule. So as soon as the TV people arrived, they got straight on with it.’

    My hand falls weak, and the phone slips from fingers, crashing on to the coffee stained desk. Hot, angry tears fall over my cheeks into my mouth.

    ‘Everything okay?’

    I turn around to find the mechanic walking towards me. His face is free of dirt now, and he definitely doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

    It’s hard to blink back tears, but I don’t want to come across like a pathetic drama queen.

    I do!

    As he nears me, I notice how incredibly handsome he is. Beneath his long, dark, fringe, sparkle the most dazzling green eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s a good few inches taller than me too which is comforting, as I’m a six footer myself.

    ‘Everything is far from OK!’ I holler with such a blow that his head jolts slightly. ‘My boyfriend cheated on me with a Swede – not the vegetable. My car is a useless pile of junk and because of the rubbish I have lost the chance to be on TV with a celebrity. I am not a psychopath, I just wanted to shave her head, bald!’

    I’m crying like a child. Snivelling, wiping my nose on my sleeve. I just don’t care anymore about anything.

    He passes me a tissue. It’s not the cleanest but I flush my nose in it anyway.

    ‘You can shave my head if it’ll make you feel better?’

    I look up at him and notice his beautifully formed smile. ‘I’m sorry for being your morning drama queen.’

    ‘Don’t be silly. And I was being serious, I really do need a haircut. In return, I’ll treat you to dinner.’

    My heart skips a beat by his proposal and I carefully watch how he nervously bites his bottom lip in anticipation.

    ‘Okay, deal.’

    He extends his large, grease-stained hand for me to shake. ‘Pleased to meet you. My name’s Mike.’

    ‘My name’s Nikita, and it’s a pleasure meeting you too, Mike the mechanic.’

    We giggled childishly and spoke of this and that.

    I never bothered returning to work that day, nor the day after that. Instead, Mike thought it was a perfectly brilliant idea that I run a barber shop at the back of his workshop. It works a treat. Now every day I wake up fully charged with a want to get out of bed… well except for the mornings that I awake with Mike the Mechanic.

 -Felicia Snashall @writewhatyousee

[upalldown]

The National - I Am Easy To Find

Album number eight from the Ohio indie rock band recorded in Aaron Dessner's home studio features guest appearances from Sharon Van Etten, Gail Ann Dorsey, Lisa Hannigan, Kate Stables, Mina Tindle and the Brooklyn Youth Choir

11/13

Necessity’s the mother of invention, and just as U.K. racism gave rise in the late 1970s to the activist, mixed-race Two Tone scene, so has #MeToo informed a new wave of indie-rock. For a culture that likes to fancy itself woke despite an ongoing tradition of sexism and sexual predation, it’s heartening to see not only a new generation of women and non-binary artists up front, but cis bros evidently rethinking their work and privilege in gender-mixed contexts. This year, Conor Oberst and Phoebe Bridgers teamed up as Better Oblivion Community Center. Ezra Koenig unveiled Vampire Weekend 2.0 on Father of The Bride with vocal help from Danielle Haim (and bonus points for the metatextual sample of Jenny Lewis singing the word “boy.”) On I Am Easy to Find, another standard-bearing indie dude brand has reconfigured itself with multiple women’s voices at the LP’s core, a portion of the roughly 77 musicians that temporarily explode the band’s quintet. The album was also conceived of a piece with a luminously sad and lovely short film of the same name, directed with emotive minimalism by Mike Mills (20th Century Women), and starring Alicia Vikander, who pulls off a heartbreaking and quietly astonishing hat-trick by aging from cradle to grave in 26 minutes with no perceivable changes beyond movements and mannerisms.

Evidently, as the African proverb suggests, it takes a village. But this art mobbing isn’t out of character for The National, a band that’s spent much of their career snowballing community, through festival curation (Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, the Eaux Claires Festival), producing friends’ records (for a time at Aaron Dessner’s Brooklyn home studio), operating a label (Brassland), and marshaling outsized projects like a five-plus-hour Grateful Dead homage (Day of The Dead) and the ever-growing 37d03d (aka: PEOPLE) collective.

I Am Easy to Find is, however, the first time they’ve applied this approach to the band itself, and they pull it off without diluting their National-ness. It’s a balancing act. “You Had Your Soul With You” begins with a stuttering melody built of sample-shards and Matt Berninger’s signature baritone incantations, which outline a failed relationship. The third verse is sung by Gail Ann Dorsey, Berninger eventually joining her in rueful harmony. The lyrical and formal suggestion, explored throughout the record, seems to be that it takes two to tango, and despite the canyon that separates our perceptions, however gendered, we all share vast tracts of emotional territory, and are capable of deep empathy. Whether we act on it is another story.

Dorsey’s dusky contralto, once David Bowie’s foil, also melds with Berninger’s voice on “Roman Holiday” and “Hey Rosie.” Tracks featuring higher-register singers plumb different tensions. “Oblivions” begins with Berninger trading lines with French singer/songwriter (and Bryce Dessner’s wife) Mina Tindle, before their voices converge, with Tindle out front, singing about marriage and the fear it fails to erase (“It’s the way you say yes when I ask you to marry me/You don’ t know what you are doing/Do you think you can carry me/Over the threshold/Over and over again until oblivion?”). That Beninger hangs back in the mix is interesting, both because it’s ostensibly his show, and for how pop songs — in mixing and arrangements — have historically treated women’s voices as subservient to men’s, not unlike the way photographic technology favors Caucasian skin tones. Tonal balance and audio separation are small gestures, but they demonstrate the breadth of cultural sexisms that need dismantling.

The duet-centered songs are the strongest. In its poignant tick-tocking piano melody, the camera-shutter percussion, the bleep-blorp electronics, the brightly funereal brass, the elegant choral and string arrangements, the title track beautifully skeins almost every sonic byway the group’s been exploring lately. A Big Apple tale, Berninger sings about “towers,” lies, and the way city life can rip a union apart, with Kate Stables, of the idiosyncratic English folk-rock group This Is The Kit, matching nearly every word. “You never were much of a New Yorker
/ It wasn’t in your eyes,” the couple sing to one another, with equal parts accusation and resignation.

In a similar way, “The Pull of You” suggests the banter of arch, articulate, probably degreed lovers — New York Review of Books readers, in therapy, whose smarts, sensitivity and self-awareness can’t save them or their relationship. And “Not in Kansas” uses a list of the things we use to define ourselves — beloved music, movies, drugs — to pin its character like a butterfly:

Smidges of bad ecstasy Must have left it in my pocket With my Christianity and my rocket I’m binging hard on Annette Bening And listening to REM again Begin The Begin over and over

It’s a tragicomic song, and Berninger sings it mostly alone, though one wonders how much of it was written by his life- and writing partner, Carin Besser, who co-wrote the set’s lyrics along with Berninger and Mike Mills. The loss in the song is palpable, as it is in “Light Years,” which ends the record in a swirl of strings and flashbacks, soft regret and acceptance — that faintly bitter taste that grows strangely appealing over time. Like the short movie, it doesn’t offer any morals or profound truths. Just beauty, and an invitation to savor it while you can.

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-album-reviews/review-the-nationals-i-am-easy-to-find-836169/

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/technology/entertainment/a-century-late-a-giant-of-early-cinema-gets-her-closeup/

A Century Late, a Giant of Early Cinema Gets Her Closeup

When you think about the titans of classic film, who comes to mind? Go ahead, take a few minutes.

No matter how long your list, it’s a fair bet that the French filmmaker Alice Guy Blaché — one of cinema’s earliest and most influential pioneers — didn’t make the cut.

Until recently, Guy Blaché was mostly relegated to the footnotes: credited regularly as the first female filmmaker (when credited at all), but overlooked in terms of her impact as an artist and an innovator. And yet starting in 1896, she made around 1,000 films, constantly pushing visual and thematic boundaries. She experimented with early synchronized sound, color and special effects. She explored gender, race and class. And she inspired future giants like Sergei Eisenstein, Alfred Hitchcock and Agnès Varda.

Now, amid a broader reassessment of women’s roles in Hollywood, her legacy is resurfacing. Thanks in part to a new documentary by Pamela Green called “Be Natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché,” released in theaters this weekend, Guy Blaché may finally be getting her due, nearly a century after she made her final film.

Green said she was astounded when, in 2000, she first learned about Guy Blaché in a TV documentary by Susan and Christopher Koch called “Reel Models,” about trailblazing women in film.

“I was blown away,” Green said. “I had a hard time getting over it, honestly. Why wasn’t she a household name?”

Shelley Stamp, a film historian who curated Kino Lorber’s 2018 box set “Pioneers: First Women Filmmakers,” which gathers more than a dozen of Guy Blaché’s films, said she had thought a lot about that question.

“I get asked this all the time about early female filmmakers,” she said. “And you know, there’s ways to dance around the answer. But I think the only explanation is sexism.”

“There has been a longstanding myth that filmmaking is a man’s game,” she continued, “and that narrative has had a lot of sway and has obscured the careers of many women, probably most egregiously Guy Blaché.”

Guy Blaché was born in 1873, as Alice Guy, to a convent-educated French mother who had been set up to marry an older, French-Chilean intellectual. Although her life began amid fairly traditional bourgeois circumstances, there were signs early on that Guy Blaché might be destined for an unusual path. Her father owned bookstores in Valparaiso and Santiago, and her pregnant mother insisted on traveling by boat from Chile to France, just so her daughter could be born in Paris.

Having learned stenography as a young woman, Guy Blaché applied in 1894 for a secretarial job with Léon Gaumont, one of several French inventors experimenting with the potential of early cinematography. Men like Gaumont and the Lumière brothers, who patented and presented an early cinematograph in 1895, were focused then on the mechanics of moving pictures as a way to document real life: workers leaving a factory, crowds gathered for a parade, trains traveling along tracks.

But Guy Blaché saw a different path.

“I thought that one might do better than these demonstration films,” she wrote in her witty autobiography, “The Memoirs of Alice Guy Blaché.” “Gathering my courage, I timidly proposed to Gaumont that I might write one or two little scenes and have a few friends perform in them.”

Gaumont agreed to her request, but that was only, she wrote, “on the express condition that this would not interfere with my secretarial duties.” Soon enough she had dispensed with those duties for an expanding list of others: location scout, casting director, costume designer, cinematographer, editor, writer, director and producer.

Her first film, a short called “The Cabbage Fairy,” was one of the earliest fiction films ever made, offering a charming twist on the question, Where do babies come from? (The answer, at least in 1896, was that they’re born in cabbage patches.)

Over the next 23 years, Guy Blaché blazed a variety of narrative and artistic trails. She made comedies, adventures and romances. She made thrillers, melodramas and westerns. She made religious epics and documentaries, never hesitating to expand into new or provocative domains.

Her 1906 short comedy “The Consequences of Feminism,” in which men and women swap roles, still feels remarkably modern in its unsparing assessment of double standards. “A Sticky Woman” and “Madame’s Cravings,” also made in 1906, brazenly foregrounded female desire with humor and wit.

“She was very interested in gender norms,” Stamp said. “She was very interested in sexism. And she was very interested in crafting films with active, adventurous female heroines.”

When her white actors refused to appear onscreen with black actors, she turned “A Fool and His Money” (1912) into what is widely considered the first narrative film with an entirely African-American cast. “A Man’s a Man” (1912) offered a rare, sympathetic perspective of a Jewish protagonist onscreen. “The Making of an American Citizen” (1913) tackled immigration and marital abuse.

After running Gaumont’s studio in Paris, Guy Blaché came to America and opened the highly successful Solax, in Fort Lee, N.J., one of the earliest production companies in the United States. Her films were distributed around the country and overseas, serving not only as entertainment but also as a bedrock for the way audiences and filmmakers understood cinema.

Jodie Foster, who served as the narrator and an executive producer for “Be Natural,” was keen to participate after Green told her about Guy Blaché’s history.

Pamela Green, left, directed the new documentary “Be Natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché.” Jodie Foster, right, served as its narrator and an executive producer.CreditMatt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images

“When I was growing up in the film business, I never saw another woman on set,” Foster said in an email. “Occasionally a makeup artist or script supervisor. The lady playing my mom. Directors were always telling my story (the story of a young girl) through their male lenses.”

Even so, she admitted: “I’d never heard of Alice before Pamela contacted me. How is that possible?”

Patty Jenkins, who directed “Wonder Woman” and is currently working on the sequel, was less taken aback. She appears in Green’s documentary as one of a wide range of Hollywood’s elites, both women and men.

“Though one might think that I’d be surprised I hadn’t heard of her, I really wasn’t,” she said in an email. “I feel like everywhere you look there are incredible stories of the achievements of all kinds of people who weren’t the ones that got into the history books. It’s nothing new.”

Guy Blaché was never a stranger to being pushed aside, even by her husband, Herbert Blaché. Although she had founded Solax, her powers there were circumscribed. “I would have embarrassed the men, said Herbert,” she wrote, “who wanted to smoke their cigars and to spit at their ease while discussing business.”

Eventually, Herbert set up a parallel studio he named after himself. He diverted their resources into Blaché Features, and Solax wound down. A few years later, he left Guy Blaché for an actress in one of his films, and together they moved to Los Angeles. Blaché Features folded, and Herbert continued his career there, as a for-hire studio director.

Left to support their two children, Guy Blaché moved to Hollywood as well. But the offers weren’t coming, and she was forced to accept a position as her estranged husband’s assistant. Devastated, she moved with the children back to France, where she tried to generate film work in Nice and Paris, without success.

She was never able to make another film.

Guy Blaché lived to be 94, which meant she had plenty of time to watch historians minimize or ignore her achievements. Respected texts passed her over entirely, or merely mentioned her as a rare woman in the industry. Gaumont himself omitted her copious contributions when he wrote a history of his company. Her blunt memoir, which wasn’t published until after her death in 1968, was in part an attempt to correct the record — to stake her rightful place in a culture she had helped create.

Decades later, Hollywood still proved slow to evolve. When Green tried to share Guy Blaché’s story in the days before the Time’s Up movement existed, she found the industry uninterested.

“Nobody wanted to talk about an older woman, who was French, who was at the beginning of cinema,” she said. “It was just so surprising. I felt that she had been robbed, in a way. And like I had to do something about it.”

She has since found that the need was there all along. It just had to be shaken loose. Foster’s experience provides the perfect illustration.

“When I realized I wanted to be a director, I had so few historical models,” Foster said. “Discovering the story of Alice was like a celebration, a vindication, a redemption. I wish she was here to enjoy the party.”

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Informal Q & A, 2017

Do you think that one day they will let live your life on the outside?

I have always believed that one day I would be released from prison, though early on I never expected that my release might be so long in coming. I still believe it will come. 

You are a model prisoner.  How do you explain the fact that you are still in jail? 

Being a model prisoner has little bearing on how much time a prisoner with a life sentence will do before being paroled. It should play a much bigger role. The biggest factor is that incarceration has been closely tied to politics in this country. There are over two million people in prison in America, since the big push for mass incarceration and mandatory sentencing in the 1980s and 1990s. Those with life sentences are politically the least favored for parole. There has been some improvement in recent years but about 86% of parole hearings in the state of California result in denial of parole. The fact that my crime has been associated with Charles Manson adds to the political difficulties in my case.

What would you be doing the rest of your life if you could be free?

I am 69 years old now. As much as possible in the years that remain in my life I want to spend days in the company of loved ones, to go on long walks in the country with my dog, and maybe do a couple of concerts, possibly a live performance of Lucifer Rising with some newer compositions. Large venues with projected film. I intend to continue to produce new music, visual art and do some film work as long as I am able.

Why did you spend so much time at your grandmother’s house when you were a child?  Is it because you were her favorite grandchild or because you didn’t get along with your parents?  

I was the eldest of five children, and very active, so my parents were happy to have me staying with my grandmother during the summers to ease their responsibilities. It was not because of strife at home. I loved my grandma, and I'm pretty sure I was her favorite grandchild. I also liked being in the big city, near Los Angeles where she lived. The first time was a two-week visit. Eventually I was staying the whole summer with her. 

How were your dad and mom?

I was blessed with good parents, loving and responsible. My dad worked two jobs to support his large family, and he was usually tired when he got home, so I regret that I didn't have an opportunity to form a close relationship with him. I was my mom's firstborn son and I've never doubted that she loved me, even when I disappointed her. I had rebellious tendencies and left home at an early age, but not because there was anything wrong with my parents. I grew up in troubled times. They are not to blame for that.

Did your dad tell you stories about your French Canadian ancestors? 

My father's parents were both deaf; they could not have told him about his ancestry. I did not learn that I am descended from an Acadian general until I was in my forties. 

Was your family very close to you when you were arrested and sentenced? 

My arrest and conviction was very very hard for my parents but they were as supportive as they could be and stood by me to the ends of their lives.

I don’t understand: you had children when you were in jail. Did you meet their mother before or in jail?  

I've not fathered any children while I've been in prison. My three biological children were all conceived prior to my arrest. I married Barbara in 1981. Though she died in 2012 I remain close with her three children and her grandchildren.

How did you meet her?  

In 1981 Barbara was a carpenter living in Sacramento and working on the restoration of the historic Capitol Building. I had recently finished the Lucifer Rising soundtrack, and a Sacramento TV news program did a little story about me and the work I was doing in prison. Barbara kindly wrote to me to express how she had been impressed by my efforts. A month later she asked me to marry her. Accepting was the best decision I've ever made.

What do you teach your kids? How do they live with a dad in jail?  Are you close or does it depend on how each one reacts to your condition?

Ah. I will not presume to speak for them. The situation is difficult for everyone, of course. I know they love me, and that is truly a blessing.

You say that Truman Capote wrote a fake version of the interview he made about you. You think he arranged the facts the way he wanted?  And in that case, why?

Truman Capote did interview me once, in the early 1970s. A number of years later he attempted to recreate the interview from memory, throwing in some self-aggrandizing and fabricated comments he attributed to me. Why did he do this? Narcissists tend to do what promotes their opinions of themselves with little regard for who gets hurt when they do it. I have read reports about how Capote mistreated many of his subjects to promote his own interests. That sort of behavior in a journalist is incomprehensible to me.

Do you remember the day you met Kenneth Anger? How was the Russian Embassy? 

Yes, I remember that meeting. I wrote about it in the story I wrote for The Lucifer Rising Suite album release. You can read this on my website. The Westerfeld House, the mansion we used to call The Russian Embassy, was old and in disrepair when I lived there, but it had great character, history and ambiance. I loved living there and creating there.

Did you sleep sometimes as a friend in Gary Hinman’s basement?

When I first moved to Topanga Canyon in late 1967 with my girlfriend we stayed with Gary, living in his basement, until I could find us a more suitable place to live. He was a kind man.

Before all this happened, what were your plans? Set up a new band, anything else?

There was so much social turmoil in those times that it was difficult to make much in the way of plans. I was always looking for opportunities to play music, and I was collaborating with other musicians, though not formally as a member of a band. I did a little recording, mostly on demos for aspiring solo artists, but the established music labels ruthlessly took advantage of musicians in those days. In an industry with little trust it was difficult to get good management and a record deal.

Did you ever meet Neil Young and Dennis Wilson in L.A. during these times and how? 

I first saw Neil Young when he was playing in Buffalo Springfield, maybe 1965, and crossed paths with him many times after that, but I never got to know him personally. I got to be friendly with Dennis Wilson, jamming with him in his apartment sometimes. He was a good musician, and I liked him.