#does he not work a nine to five??? or is this all filmed during weekends???

[world-cinema-research]

The Deer Hunter (1978)

By Cris Nyne

The Deer Hunter was co-written and directed by Michael Cimino. It follows a group of Slavic-American friends that work together in a steel mill in Clairton, Pennsylvania, just south of Pittsburgh. The area in which they live is dilapidated, and the steel mill fuels most of the local economy, which isn’t much. Friends Michael (Robert De Niro), Nick (Christopher Walken), and Steven (John Savage) are heading off to Vietnam after a weekend that includes Steve’s wedding and a trip into the mountains to hunt deer. The cast of friends is rounded out by Nick’s love interest Linda (Meryl Streep), Stan (John Cazale), John (George Dzundza), and Axel (Chuck Aspegren).

The movie begins in Clairton, where the group of friends are punching out of the steel mill and grabbing a beer at the bar to pre-game before Steve’s wedding that night. Steve’s partner, Angela (Rutanya Alda), is pregnant and they are having a grandiose Russian Orthodox ceremony before Steve heads off to Vietnam. The church hymns would return later in the film when Robert De Niro’s character, Michael, is stalking deer. This is where Michael finds his spiritual peace. After the wedding, the men head into the mountains for one last deer hunt before Michael, Nick, and Stevie are off to Vietnam. The film then hops the ocean to portray some very troubling scenes of war, along with the deadly Russian roulette “games” that the Vietcong imposed on captured US soldiers in the film. The movie then follows Michael’s returns home to depict the celebratory, yet grieving community of friends and family.

"The picture is a long, sprawling epic-type in many ways more novel than motion picture. It employs literary references stylistically, forecasting events which will happen in the film. Events are foreshadowed by the way the camera moves and by epigrammatic hints made by characters–techniques more frequently related to book writing. Cimino’s film is worthy of serious study and certainly will be treated to much analysis during the next year, and decade as well." -Charles Schreger for Variety, November 1978

What makes this film more touching, is that this would be actor John Cazale’s last film. He was diagnosed with lung cancer before filming and would pass on before The Deer Hunter was released in theaters. Mr. Cazale’s credits included The Godfather franchise, The Conversation, and Dog Day Afternoon. He would star in five films in the seventies. All five films were nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture. John Cazale and Meryl Streep were in a relationship together and his passing affected her greatly. Ms. Streep would accept the role as Linda so she could be by John’s side while filming. Robert De Niro paid for Mr. Cazale’s medical insurance to help save his friend and keep the production of the movie in motion.

The Deer Hunter was both critically and financially successful. With a budget of 15 million dollars, it would go on to gross just shy of 49 million, domestically. There were many glowing reviews for The Deer Hunter in major publication throughout the country. The amount of recognition the film received through accolades and awards is astounding, especially considering this was only the second film by director Michael Cimino. It was nominated for nine Academy Awards and won five of them. Amongst the awards were Best Picture and Best Supporting Actor for Christopher Walken. Rotten Tomatoes lists The Deer Hunter with an 86% on the “Tomatometer” and 91% audience score. The negative feedback about the film mostly revolved around Mr. Cimino’s bigoted depiction of the Vietnamese. The Russian roulette scenes were also derided by some for being historically inaccurate, as there were no such records of this ever happening.

“More terrifying than the violence--certainly more provocative and moving--is the way each of the soldiers reacts to his war experiences. Not once does anyone question the war or his participation in it. This passivity may be the real horror at the center of American life, and more significant than any number of hope-filled tales about raised political consciousnesses.” -Vincent Canby, The New York Times, December 1978

The film depicts hard times in America, and most certainly in Vietnam. Families don’t have much in terms of material wealth, but their lives and relationships are rich with endearing connections to one another. The cinematography brings you right into the scene with the actors and there is an abundance of grit throughout the film, both in style and substance. Although this was only the sophomore release from Mr. Cimino, the A-list cast of actors (especially De Nero, after starring in The Godfather II and Taxi driver) and the 15-million-dollar budget lends The Deer Hunter to be more of a conventional movie. The intense depictions of the Vietcong and the Vietnamese, along with the subject matter of putting a gun to your own head and pulling the trigger could upset, aggravate, or alienate certain audiences, which does add some elements of being unconventional, as well.

The Vietnam war left a massive stain on the quilt of American history. To this day, a lot of soldiers who survived the intense, dragging battle have permanent scars that cannot be seen. The Deer Hunter sheds some light on the scope of the experience, not only within the borders of Vietnam, but also how the war shaped and affected the lives of family and friends of the soldiers who either enlisted or were drafted. The film ends with the remaining group of friends singing the most somber, poignant version of “God Bless America”, leaving us with a stinging rebuttal for the cost of serving your country with a machine gun.

[wanghedi]

I obviously shouldnt have worried i would never see the 名学 group of people anywhere else when they cancel the show because mgtv is breaking apart and redistributing and reassembling these people into at least 3 different spinoff shows where the cycle through whichever ones are available that week these assholes will be on tv all fuckin year long just one show after another lmaooo

[craftypeaceturtle]

Distanced, part 2

Summary: How are these useless students coping with life?

Note: This is a group chat fic, my first one so this might not be that good! Also this contains swearing. Eventual intrulogical. 

Part 1 here!

.

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 13:02

Hello, sorry to interrupt, but I just want to ask where you gathering your sources? Are there any particular databases you’re using? Thank you.

Remus Prince: I’m just going through the read list.

The reading list? But that only has one text that could be anything remotely useful for this topic!

Remus Prince: ye but it’s a starting point

Remus Prince: like u can read it and then read whatever it references.

Are we allowed to do that?

Remus Prince: wha

Remus Prince: DUH! 

Surely that must count as plagiarism or something of the sort. You can’t use someone else’s sources.

Remus Prince: u sound so stupid

Remus Prince: u’ll read the book it references and form ur own interpretation.

Remus Prince: u’ll get different quotes

Remus Prince: u’ll be using it for a different argument

Remus Prince: why would u not be allowed to read texts!

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:13

Okay I emailed Dr Smith and he said it was fine. Thank you for the advice.

Remus Prince: OMG

Remus Prince: You actually told the teacher on me!

The teacher agreed with you? You’re not in trouble.

Remus Prince: THAT WAS MY SECRET!

Remus Prince: now the teachers actually think I’m capable

If it makes you feel better, I did not mention your name.

Remus Prince: you really had to double check?

Maybe I was being a little paranoid but I don’t think you understand the crisis I’m currently having. I typically spend hours running around the library and searching random titles to figure out suitable texts. When all this time I could have just been using the references! I am beyond furious and relieved at this new technique to research. 

Remus Prince: ah of course

Remus Prince: you totally came across that way in the 2 messages you sent

My world view has been fractured, I think that justifies not texting much. 

Remus Prince: why did you apologise

Excuse me?

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: now who sucks at reading!

Remus Prince: You said sorry in the first message.

I wasn’t sure if you were in a lecture or class. It’s polite.

Remus Prince: nah

Remus Prince: I’d answer even if I was.

That is not nearly as comforting as you are intending. How far along are you in your research?

Remus Prince: honestly?

Remus Prince: I’ve read five pages in on a book on the reading list. 

Remus Prince: I’ve done like nothing.

That’s indeed some amount of research. Again, as long as you are done by the 15th then whatever it takes.

Remus Prince: See you said no judgement but I picked up a lot of judgement

We have already agreed your reading comprehension is not the best.

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: so what are u up to?

Actually working on the research project.

Remus Prince: im bored

Remus Prince: I’ve been sitting waiting for my washing machine for like 9 hours 

Remus Prince: maybe later I will do work

I sincerely doubt it has been nine hours. How come you’re washing your clothes at such an awkward time?

Remus Prince: Awkward?

I can’t think of many students who would wash their clothes in the middle of the week day with classes. 

Remus Prince: every1 washes their stuff on the weekend

Remus Prince: plus everyone knows the weekend is for doing nothing. Might as well get all my jobs done now.

You really plan to do nothing during the weekend?

Remus Prince: hells ye

Remus Prince: maybe, at most, I’ll send Dee to campus coffee

As long as you’re done by the 2nd. Though I really should congratulate you on your superior taste to coffee shops.

Remus Prince: ?

If universal opinion existed, then Campus Coffee being the best coffee shop would be considered one. For whatever ridiculous reason, both Patton and Roman don’t really like it. 

Remus Prince: really

Remus Prince: I thought I saw Ro go in.

Roman occasionally practises lines with his other theatre colleagues and that is always where they meet up. But he never buys a drink as he is apparently a literal man child and cannot cope with a drink that isn’t just chocolate and milk.

Remus Prince: RIGHT??????

Remus Prince: my roomie V likes to pretend he takes coffee but he can only drink hot choc. 

Remus Prince: He doesn’t deserve coffee anyway

Exactly! Have you talked to Remy there?

Remus Prince: YE

Remus Prince: He practically forced me to be his friend with how incredible he makes coffee

Remus Prince: He’ll even add energy drink to mine!

Okay maybe that is a little strange. But I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. He finally convinced me to leave my usual order of a white coffee and I have not regretted it. 

He doesn’t actually add energy drink to your coffee right?

Remus Prince: ye he does but don’t worry he bullies me for it

Remus Prince: The entire time I sit and drink it he’ll be holding up his phone with 911 dialed.

That seems fair.   

Remus Prince: without being so incredibly forward

Remus Prince: do you want me to grab you a coffee now

What do you mean?

Remus Prince: Well im bored

Remus Prince: and it’s your fault for talking coffee

Remus Prince: now I really want coffee

Remus Prince: I’m now heading that direction.

I’m sorry but I cannot meet up right now. I’m doing work and then I want to be prompt coming home to help my roommate.

Remus Prince: fair thought id offer

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:20

If you’re still willing, I am sitting in the library and I would truly appreciate it if you could drop off the coffee. 

I can pay.

Obviously this is up to you. 

Remus Prince: soz was walking

Remus Prince: ye I can do that

Sorry for not being able to sit around, but I do appreciate this. 

Remus Prince: ur fine

Remus Prince: what u want

Firstly, it is “you’re”. Secondly, without sounding like a cliche film character, just say my name. Remy makes an effort to give me a slightly different order every day to “widen my tastes”.

Remus Prince: wow

Wow?

Remus Prince: For the very epitome of the nerd stereotype, did you really hit me with that “just say my name and they’ll know” trope?

Please, I can be cool.

Remus Prince: Are you begging?

Remus Prince: Also

Remus Prince: what do you look like again?

I’m sorry?

Remus Prince: reading comprehension! Fairly simple question.

I am wearing a black polo shirt with a blue tie. Caucasian with shaved hair. 5′10. 

Remus Prince: how efficient.

May I ask why?

Remus?

Remus Prince: Soz I just got our orders. 

Remus Prince: I’m really bad at faces.

You could have simply asked where I would be. I’m on the second floor, computer room 209. There’s a few others here but I’ll wave once you walk in. 

Remus Prince: okay maybe that would’ve made more sense

Remus Prince: shutup.

I know I have stated this before, but we have indeed talked before. You will recognise me. 

Remus Prince: listen I’m not fucking around.

Remus Prince: I am genuinely shit at faces

Remus Prince: it was one question prick

I apologise. I didn’t realise. 

Remus Prince: Hey I’m here, now heading up. 

.

.

MESSAGES: To Padre!!

Friday, 16:00

Greetings wonderful Pat! Did you perhaps end up baking today like you said you would?

Padre!!: Heya Ro! Yeah, we made cupcakes! We didn’t fancy making icing but we did have choc chips!

AW YEAH! Just wanted to check so I know whether to buy cake. Anything I need to pick up while I’m here?

Padre!!: All good here. 

Padre!!: Logan saw Remus today.

hE DID????????

Padre!!: Yeah, he brought him coffee. Some special coffee, not his white coffee.

ASJKDGA

(also how on this great big boundiful earth do you know his usual coffee order?)

Padre!!: Because that’s what family does!

Why would he bring him coffee?

Padre!!: I have no idea. Logan didn’t really talk about it. 

He didn’t talk about it?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

Padre!!: I don’t know what to tell you. He got all quiet. He makes it sound like they don’t even like each other but he still brought him a coffee. 

EWEWEW

YOU DON’T THINK HE’S TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE

Padre!!: I don’t know. It sounds like it but Logan said they had a bit of a tiff in the texts.

... a tiff?

Padre!!: Like a small argument.

No I knew what it means, I meant it in a “omg you’re so adorable for describing a disagreement as a tiff”. 

Padre!!: I want to joke around Ro but I am a little worried about him. He acted fine after the coffee and he said they didn’t talk. It just seems like such a weird thing to do! I’m worried Remus would try and pull something. This sounds exactly like how all those stories you tell begins. 

Lo’s not an idiot. 

He’s a nerd. 

There’s no way he would fall into his trap. He’d let us know if something wasn’t right. 

Padre!!: Good point.

I’ll be home in like 5 mins. I’ll run.

Padre!!: You don’t have to Ro.

Padre!!: I’m just overreacting.

Padre!!: Ro?

Padre!!: You better make sure you’re still looking both ways even when running!

[uomo-accattivante]

I recently came across a bunch of press articles and photos about Oscar Isaac that are so old, they appear to be out-of-print and pre-date social media. Considering they were probably never digitally transcribed for internet access, I’m guessing that the majority of current fans have never seen this stuff.

Even though a lot of these digital scans are challenging to read because they are the original fuzzy news print, I think there some gems worth sharing with you guys. Over the next several weeks, I will transcribe and share those gems on this page. Hope you enjoy them!

Let’s start with this fantastic 2001 profile piece done before Oscar was accepted into Juilliard:

South Florida’s rising star isn’t just acting the part

By Christine Dolen - cdolen@herald.com

February 4, 2001

As fifth-graders at Westminster Christian School in Miami, Oscar Isaac and his classmates were asked to write a story as if they were animals on Noah’s Ark. Oscar turned in a seven-page play – with original music – from the perspective of a platypus. Then he starred in the production his teacher directed.

He hasn’t stopped expressing himself creatively since. Today, Isaac is one of South Florida’s busiest young theater actors, and certainly its hottest. And not just because he’s a slender five-feet nine-inches tall with an expressively handsome face and glistening brown eyes.

Since making his professional debut as a Cuban hustler in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage in July 1999, he has played an explosive Vietnam vet in Private Wars for Horizons Repertory, a pot-smoking slacker in This Is Our Youth at GableStage, another Cuban on the make in Praying With the Enemy at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, the entrancing narrator of Side Man at GableStage, a Havana-based writer in Arrivals and Departures for the new Oye Rep and, most recently, a young Fidel Castro in When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba at New York’s Cherry Lane Theater.

Beginning Wednesday, he’ll be juggling five roles in City Theatre’s annual Winter Shorts festival, first at the Colony Theatre in Miami Beach, then at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. But that is not all: During the two weeks he is doing Winter Shorts, he’ll also be playing dates with the punk-ska band The Blinking Underdogs (www.blinkingunderdogs.com), which features him as lead singer, guitarist and songwriter.

Oh, and he just got back from auditioning for New York’s prestigious Juilliard School of Drama.

All this for a guy a month shy of his 22nd birthday.

Sure, you could hate a guy who’s that talented, that charismatic, that transparently ambitious. But the people who have worked with Oscar Isaac don’t. On the contrary, they’re all sure he has it – that magical, can’t-be-taught thing that transforms an actor into a star.

Playwright Eduardo Machado, who put in a good word for Isaac at Juilliard, says “he does have that star quality that makes your eyes go to him. It’s great that someone with that talent still wants to train.”

“He has a star quality that’s rare in a young actor,” adds Joseph Adler, who directed him in Side Man and This Is Our Youth. “Without a doubt I expect to be hearing great things from him.”

‘I JUST LOVE CREATING’

Isaac, who also makes short films, can’t say exactly why he was attracted to acting. He just knows it makes him happier than anything, that it’s what he was meant to do. And he’s been doing it since he was a 4-year-old putting on plays in his family’s backyard with his sister Nicole.

“I just love creating, whether it’s music or films or a character on a stage. I love taking people for a ride,” he says. “In Side Man, every night I would love being that close to the audience. I felt like I was talking to 80 of my closest friends.

“I could feel what the audience was feeling.”

His powerful, mournful-yet-loving monologue near the end of the play, he said, “worked every night. I knew it would get them. I’d hear sniffles.

“But it had less to do with me than with the atmosphere [created by the playwright and director].”

You could understand if Isaac, surrounded as he is by praise and possibility, had an ego as burgeoning as his career. Instead, he channels the positive reinforcement into confidence about his work.

“He has such a charm and an ease onstage, but he’s very modest,” says New York-based actress Judith Delgado, who shared the stage with Isaac in Side Man. “He’s hungry. He’s got moxie. I was blown away by him.

“He saved me a couple of times. I went up [forgot a line] and that baby boy of mine came through. He’s a joy.”

FORGING HIS OWN PATH

The son of a Cuban-American father and a Guatemalan mother, Isaac was never a stellar student. But he found ways of turning routine assignments – like the Noah’s Ark story – into creative challenges.

His science reports were inevitably video documentaries underscored with punk music. He acted through middle and high school, though he had a falling out with his drama teacher at Santaluces Community High in Lantana over his misgivings about a character. When she refused to cast him in anything else, he got his English teacher to let him play the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors his senior year.

His skepticism about authority and love of playing the devil’s advocate have long made him resist doing things the usual way. His post-high school “training” consisted of one semester at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus (where he met his girlfriend, Maria Miranda), touring schools playing an abusive character in the Coconut Grove Playhouse’s Breaking the Cycle, and working as a transporter of bodies at Baptist Hospital, where he absorbed the drama of people in emotionally intense situations.

“It was the most magnificent dramatic institute I could’ve attended,” Isaac said. “I was able to observe the entire spectrum of human emotion, people under the most extreme duress. I was mesmerized watching the way people interacted with each other in such heightened situations.

“I learned everything about the human condition, and it was real and harsh and brutally honest.”

Yet even given his propensity for forging his own path, something nudged him another direction while he was in New York making his Off-Broadway debut in December. Walking by Juilliard one day, he impulsively went in to ask for an application. Though the application deadline had passed, Isaac persuaded Juilliard to accept his, noting in his application essay that most of the exceptional actors he admires had acquired “a brutally efficient technique” to enhance their talent by studying at places like Juilliard.

Though he won’t know whether he has been accepted until the end of this month, his audition last weekend went well, he says. He did monologues from Henry IV, Part I and Dancing at Lughnasa, adjusting his Shakespearean Hotspur to a more fiery temperature at the suggestion of Michael Kahn, head of Juilliard’s acting program – though not without arguing that Hotspur wouldn’t be speaking to the king that way.

Isaac, not surprisingly, loves a good debate.

Adler, GableStage’s artistic director and a man who is as liberal as Isaac once was conservative, savored the verbal jousting they did during rehearsals for Side Man.

“He knows exactly how to pull my chain,” Adler says with a laugh. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of all great actors, and he’s bright as hell.

“He has relentless ambition but with so much charm. He’s very hard to say no to. He has incredible raw talent and magnetism that is very rare in a young actor along with relentless energy, perseverance and ambition. I see his growth both onstage and off. He’s mature in both places.”

Part of his growth, of course, will necessarily involve dealing with the rejections that are part of any actor’s life. His career is still too new, his string of successes solid, so it’s anyone’s guess how failure will shape him. But director Michael John Garcés, who picked him for When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba after Isaac flew to New York at his own expense to compete with a pool of seasoned Manhattan actors for the role, believes his character will see him through.

“Oscar is realistic, but he’s so willing to go the whole nine yards,” Garcés says. “He didn’t go out when he was in the show here. His focus earned the respect of the other actors, some of whom have been working in New York for 30 years.

“He hasn’t had a lot of blows yet, when the career knocks the wind out of you. But he has talent, determination and focus, and if he has perseverance – my intuition is that he does have it – he could achieve a lot.”

FAMILY TIES

His father and namesake, Baptist Hospital intensive-care physician Oscar Isaac Hernandez, couldn’t be more proud. (Isaac doesn’t use the family surname in order to avoid, in his words, being “put in that Hispanic actor box.”)

“I’m ecstatic that he’s probably going to be going to the most prestigious drama school in the United States,” he says. “School will help him focus his energies and give him discipline. He’s got the raw material and the drive.”

Isaac’s mother, Maria, divorced from his father since 1992, is a kidney-transplant recipient who acknowledges that she’ll miss her son if he moves to New York. But, she adds, she wants him “to live out his dreams. He amazes me every day. He calls me every day. I’m very proud of him.”

Even the other guys in The Blinking Underdogs are fans of Isaac’s acting, though it could take him away from South Florida just as the band appears to be, Isaac says, on the brink of signing a recording deal (it has already put out its own CD, The Last Word, with songs, lead vocals and even cover photography by Isaac.

“Oscar’s the leader of the band, a great musician who amazes me and motivates us,” says sax player Keith Cooper. “I’ve been to see every one of his plays. He’s a phenomenal actor.

“I completely buy into his role in every play. As close as I am to him, I forget it’s Oscar.”

His South Florida theater colleagues credit that to Isaac’s insatiable desire to learn and grow.

Gail Garrisan, who is directing him in Donnie and One of the Great Ones for Winter Shorts, observes, “It’s not often that you find a young actor who is willing to listen and who doesn’t think he knows everything. He loves the work.

“He really brought the young man in Side Man to life. When I saw it in New York, it seemed to be the father’s play. When I saw it here, I felt it was his [Isaac’s] play.”

Oye Rep’s John Rodaz, whom Isaac calls “the best director I’ve ever worked with,” gave the actor his first important job in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage. They met when Isaac came to see Area’s production of Oleanna and the actor, knowing Rodaz ran the theater, introduced himself.

“He has so much energy and such a sparkling personality,” Rodaz says. “He knows how to move in the world. He seems to take advantage of every situation in a good way; he’s not a cold, calculating person who’ll stab you in the back.

“[But] he wants it so badly. Everything he does, he’s the leader. When I was 21, I was taking naps.”

Rodaz coached Isaac on his Juilliard monologues and found the experience energizing.

“I got chills just watching him. That happens so rarely. I was so exhilarated when I came home that I just had to go out and run. You just know he’s got all the tools.”

Christine Dolen is The Herald’s theater critic.

###

[invisibleicewands]

Staged's Anna Lundberg and Georgia Tennant: 'Scenes with all four of us usually involved alcohol'

Not many primetime TV hits are filmed by the show’s stars inside their own homes. However, 2020 wasn’t your average year. During the pandemic, productions were shut down and workarounds had to be found – otherwise the terrestrial schedules would have begun to look worryingly empty. Staged was the surprise comedy hit of the summer.

This playfully meta short-form sitcom, airing in snack-sized 15-minute episodes, found A-list actors Michael Sheen and David Tennant playing an exaggerated version of themselves, bickering and bantering as they tried to perfect a performance of Luigi Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author over Zoom.

Having bonded while co-starring in Good Omens, Amazon’s TV adaptation of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s novel, Sheen, 51, and Tennant, 49, became best buddies in real life. In Staged, though, they’re comedically reframed as frenemies – warm, matey and collaborative, but with a cut-throat competitiveness lurking just below the surface. As they grew ever more hirsute and slobbish in lockdown, their virtual relationship became increasingly fraught.

It was soapily addictive and hilariously thespy, while giving a voyeuristic glimpse of their interior decor and domestic lives – with all the action viewed through their webcams.

Yet it was the supporting cast who lifted Staged to greatness,Their director Simon Evans, forced to dance around the pair’s fragile egos and piggy-in-the-middle of their feuds. Steely producer Jo, played by Nina Sosanya, forever breaking off from calls to bellow at her poor, put-upon PA. And especially the leading men’s long-suffering partners, both actors in real life, Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg.

Georgia Tennant comes from showbiz stock, as the child of Peter Davison and Sandra Dickinson. At 36 she is an experienced actor and producer, who made her TV debut in Peak Practice aged 15. She met David on Doctor Who 2008, when she played the Timelord’s cloned daughter Jenny. Meanwhile, the Swedish Lundberg, 26, is at the start of her career. She left drama school in New York two years ago and Staged is her first big on-screen role.

Married for nine years, the Tennants have five children and live in west London. The Lundberg-Sheens have been together two years, have a baby daughter, Lyra, and live outside Port Talbot in south Wales. On screen and in real life, the women have become firm friends and frequent scene-stealers.

Staged proved so successful that it’s now back for a second series. We set up a video call with Tennant and Lundberg to discuss lockdown life, wine consumption, home schooling (those two may be related) and the blurry line between fact and fiction…

Was doing Staged a big decision, because it’s so personal and set in your homes? Georgia Tennant: We’d always been a very private couple. Staged was everything we’d never normally say yes to. Suddenly, our entire house is on TV and so is a version of the relationship we’d always kept private. But that’s the way to do it, I guess. Go to the other extreme. Just rip off the Band-Aid.

Anna Lundberg: Michael decided pretty quickly that we weren’t going to move around the house at all. All you see is the fireplace in our kitchen.

GT: We have five children, so it was just about which room was available.

AL: But it’s not the real us. It’s not a documentary.

GT: Although some people think it is.

Which fictional parts of the show do people mistake for reality? GT: People think I’m really a novelist because “Georgia” writes a novel in Staged. They’ve asked where they can buy my book. I should probably just write one now because I’ve done the marketing already.

AL: People worry about our elderly neighbour, who gets hospitalised in the show. She doesn’t actually exist in real life but people have approached Michael in Tesco’s, asking if she’s OK.

Michael and David squabble about who’s billed first in Staged. Does that reflect real life? AL: With Good Omens, Michael’s name was first for the US market and David’s was first for the British market. So those scenes riffed on that.

Should we call you Georgia and Anna, or Anna and Georgia? GT: Either. We’re super-laidback about these things.

AL: Unlike certain people.

How well did you know each other before Staged? GT: We barely knew each other. We’ve now forged a friendship by working on the show together.

AL: We’d met once, for about 20 minutes. We were both pregnant at the time – we had babies a month apart – so that was pretty much all we talked about.

Did you tidy up before filming? AL: We just had to keep one corner relatively tidy.

GT: I’m quite a tidy person, but I didn’t want to be one of those annoying Instagram people with perfect lives. So strangely, I had to add a bit of mess… dot a few toys around in the background. I didn’t want to be one of those insufferable people – even though, inherently, I am one of those people.

Was there much photobombing by children or pets? AL: In the first series, Lyra was still at an age where we could put her in a baby bouncer. Now that’s not working at all. She’s just everywhere. Me and Michael don’t have many scenes together in series two, because one of us is usually Lyra-wrangling.

GT: Our children aren’t remotely interested. They’re so unimpressed by us. There’s one scene where Doris, our five-year-old, comes in to fetch her iPad. She doesn’t even bother to glance at what we’re doing.

How was lockdown for you both? AL: I feel bad saying it, but it was actually good for us. We were lucky enough to be in a big house with a garden. For the first time since we met, we were in one place. We could just focus on Lyra . To see her grow over six months was incredible. She helped us keep a steady routine, too.

GT: Ours was similar. We never spend huge chunks of time together, so it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At least until David’s career goes to shit and he’s just sat at home. The flipside was the bleakness. Being in London, there were harrowing days when everything was silent but you’d just hear sirens going past, as a reminder that something awful was going on. So I veered between “This is wonderful” and “This is the worst thing that ever happened.”

And then there was home schooling… GT: Which was genuinely the worst thing that ever happened.

You’ve spent a lot of time on video calls, clearly. What are your top Zooming tips? GT: Raise your camera to eye level by balancing your laptop on a stack of books. And invest in a ring light.

AL: That’s why you look so much better. We just have our sad kitchen light overhead, which makes us look like one massive shiny forehead.

GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael.

There’s a running gag in series one about the copious empties in Michael’s recycling. Did you lean into lockdown boozing in real life? AL: Not really. We eased off when I was pregnant and after Lyra was born. We’d just have a glass of wine with dinner.

GT: Yes, definitely. I often reach for a glass of red in the show, which was basically just an excuse to continue drinking while we were filming: “I think my character would have wine and cake in this scene.” The time we started drinking would creep slightly earlier. “We’ve finished home schooling, it’s only 4pm, but hey…” We’ve scaled it back to just weekends now.

How did you go about creating your characters with the writer Simon Evans? AL: He based the dynamic between David and Michael on a podcast they did together. Our characters evolved as we went along.

GT: I was really kind and understanding in the first draft. I was like “I don’t want to play this, it’s no fun.” From the first few tweaks I made, Simon caught onto the vibe, took that and ran with it.

Did you struggle to keep a straight face at times? AL: Yes, especially the scenes with all four of us, when David and Michael start improvising.

GT: I was just drunk, so I have no recollection.

AL: Scenes with all four of us were normally filmed in the evening, because that’s when we could be child-free. Usually there was alcohol involved, which is a lot more fun.

GT: There’s a long scene in series two where we’re having a drink. During each take, we had to finish the glass. By the end, we were all properly gone. I was rewatching it yesterday and I was so pissed.

What else can you tell us about series two? GT: Everyone’s in limbo. Just as we think things are getting back to normal, we have to take three steps back again. Everyone’s dealing with that differently, shall we say.

AL: In series one, we were all in the same situation. By series two, we’re at different stages and in different emotional places.

GT: Hollywood comes calling, but things are never as simple as they seem.

There were some surprise big-name cameos in series one, with Samuel L Jackson and Dame Judi Dench suddenly Zooming in. Who can we expect this time around? AL: We can’t name names, but they’re very exciting.

GT: Because series one did so well, and there’s such goodwill towards the show, we’ve managed to get some extraordinary people involved. This show came from playing around just to pass the time in lockdown. It felt like a GCSE end-of-term project. So suddenly, when someone says: “Samuel L Jackson’s in”, it’s like: “What the fuck’s just happened?”

AL: It took things to the next level, which was a bit scary.

GT: It suddenly felt like: “Some people might actually watch this.”

How are David and Michael’s hair and beard situations this time? AL: We were in a toyshop the other day and Lyra walked up to these Harry Potter figurines, pointed at Hagrid and said: “Daddy!” So that explains where we’re at. After eight months of lockdown, it was quite full-on.

GT: David had a bob at one point. Turns out he’s got annoyingly excellent hair. Quite jealous. He’s also grown a slightly unpleasant moustache.

Is David still wearing his stinky hoodie? GT: I bought him that as a gift. It’s actually Paul Smith loungewear. In lockdown, he was living in it. It’s pretty classy, but he does manage to make it look quite shit.

[milarvela]

By his own admission, John Barrowman has always been notorious in showbusiness circles. 'I'm known for my jokes, my sense of fun, my high jinks,' he says.

But those 'high jinks' have come back to haunt him recently as a result of serious allegations against his former Doctor Who co-star Noel Clarke.

John's role as Captain Jack Harkness in Doctor Who began in 2005 and the character was given his own spin-off series, the far more adult Torchwood, a year later.

It launched a hugely successful career for John on both stage and screen, taking in leading roles in West End musicals, big-budget US TV shows such as superhero series Arrow, and homegrown light entertainment favourites like All Star Musicals and most recently Dancing On Ice, where he's one of the judges. He was by anyone's measure a family-friendly favourite.

Then a couple of months ago the sky fell in. Following accusations of sexual harassment against Noel Clarke, who played Mickey Smith – the boyfriend of Billie Piper's character Rose – in Doctor Who from 2005 until 2010, historic footage emerged on YouTube of a sci-fi convention, Chicago Tardis, in 2014, released by The Guardian newspaper which had investigated Clarke's behaviour on the Doctor Who set.

In an interview in front of a live audience, Clarke is seen regaling fellow cast members Annette Badland and Camille Coduri with tales of John's behaviour on the set of Doctor Who, exposing himself 'every five seconds'. Clarke then jokes with the audience not to do this at their workplace or they might go to prison.

The allegations levelled against Clarke are extremely serious. At least 20 women have come forward to accuse him of sexual harassment and bullying, 'inappropriate touching and groping' and secretly filming naked auditions before sharing the videos without consent.

He denies all the allegations, but BAFTA has since suspended the Outstanding Contribution award it bestowed on him just weeks earlier, and the BBC has shelved any future projects he was working on with them.

Now John's behaviour on the sets of both Doctor Who and Torchwood has come under scrutiny once again. The furore has led to a video of Captain Jack Harkness being expunged from the current immersive Doctor Who theatre show Time Fracture, a planned Torchwood audio production featuring John and former Doctor Who lead David Tennant being scrapped and doubt about whether he will be invited back to the Dancing On Ice panel.

ITV will announce the line-up for the next series in September. John immediately issued an apology following the emergence of the video back in May, but today he's decided to speak exclusively and candidly to Weekend to give his side of the story.

'The moment has come to set the record straight,' he says from the Palm Springs, California, home he shares with his husband Scott Gill. 'This is the first time – and the last – I will address this subject. And then I plan to draw a thick black line under it.'

Firstly he says it's important to set the scene. On the set of Torchwood, which followed a team of alien hunters and explored themes of sexuality and corruption, he had what might be called a 'relaxed' attitude to nudity, and would wander around in an open robe. But it's claimed that he was well known for flashing and mooning at cast and crew alike on both the Doctor Who and Torchwood sets.

As Captain Jack Harkness I was the star of Torchwood, so I felt it was down to me to lead the company and keep them entertained,' he explains. 'When I was doing a nude scene or a love scene it was clear in the script I'd be naked and everyone would have known about that at least 48 hours in advance. So I'd be waiting in my trailer wearing just a robe with a sock over my "parts". Then, if I were standing waiting to film a scene where I needed to be nude and someone came into view, I'd make a joke to put them and myself at ease. My actions were simply designed to defuse any potential awkwardness among the cast and crew.

'I've never been someone who's embarrassed about his body so it didn't bother me if anyone saw me naked,' he adds. 'The motivation for what I'd call my "tomfoolery" was to maintain a jokey atmosphere. There was absolutely nothing sexual about my actions and nor have I ever been accused of that.' Whether this sort of behaviour would defuse any awkwardness, or actually foster it, is debatable.

WHY I'VE GONE INTO THERAPY

This scandal has clearly not left John unscathed. 'It was upsetting my mental health,' he tells me. 'My husband Scott suggested I talk to somebody. I won't discuss what I've said in therapy sessions – that's a matter of doctor/patient confidentiality – but I don't mind admitting it's helped me a great deal.

'It's made me aware that despite how much cancel culture may talk about respecting people's mental health, too often they don't respect the mental health of the people they're trying to cancel. So I needed to understand what was happening, which is why I went to speak to somebody.'

Has he had more than one session? 'Yes. It's a conversation that's still going on,' he says with a wry laugh. 'Seriously, whatever the situation, if you feel you need to reach out to someone it's very important to keep talking.'

'If what happened had taken place in the changing rooms after a rugby match it would be regarded as no more than a prank,' he continues. 'On the other hand, it's never going to happen in an accountant's office or a supermarket. But my job is not a regular nine-to-five, we're a family working long hours and in close proximity to each other.' Again, one has to bear in mind that a rugby changing room would be an all-male environment. There were many women in the cast and crew of the TV shows.

'In the theatre quick costume changes happen in the wings all the time, with everyone stripping off to get into their new outfits in time for the next scene,' he says. 'Girls might be braless, boys only in jockstraps. That's just how it is and no one gives it a second thought. But I accept that my behaviour at the time could have caused offence.'

Although John's recollection is that no one complained at the time, and he says that no one has complained since, at one point he was called in for a private conversation with Julie Gardner, an executive producer on Doctor Who and Torchwood. She has confirmed to The Guardian that she did receive a complaint.

'My antics had come to her attention and she told me I should rein in my behaviour,' he recalls. 'In blunt terms, she had just two words of advice: "Grow up!" That struck a chord. I did as I was told and my behaviour changed overnight. I'd still be full of jokes and fun, but no more naked pranks. I can see now my actions were pretty juvenile but this was a different time and it's something I would not do today.'

When these rumours were swirling back in 2008, it's also said John exposed himself during a Radio 1 interview in which his behaviour was being discussed. He denies this today.

'I was being goaded by the presenters about my reported behaviour on the Doctor Who set. I went along with it but I didn't actually do anything inappropriate in the studio. What would have been the point, it was on the radio? Still, it created such a stir that the following day I decided to make a full public apology and get on with my life.'

And that might have been that, but for the accusations against Noel Clarke coming to light. 'It seems to me that I've become collateral damage to a much bigger story,' says John.

Given his and Clarke's high profiles and the severity of the allegations against Clarke, this is hardly surprising. Has he spoken to his former co-star since the balloon went up?

'I have not.' Does he plan to? 'I do not. But listen, I'm not trying to cast myself in the role of victim here.' That said, he clearly resents these stories re-emerging, although he has had messages of support.

'In fact many members of the cast and crew have been in touch since this latest storm blew up giving me their support,' he insists. 'I won't name them because I don't want anyone to find themselves in the firing line.'

However, Gareth David-Lloyd, who played bisexual Jack Harkness's lover Ianto Jones in Torchwood, has chosen to go public about working with John. 'In my experience John's behaviour on set was always meant to entertain, make people laugh and keep their spirits and energy high on what were sometimes very long working days,' he said.

'It may be because we were so close as a cast that professional lines were sometimes blurred in the excitement. I was too inexperienced to know any different but we were always laughing. The John I knew on set would never have behaved in a way he thought was affecting someone negatively. From what I know of him, that is not his nature. He was a whirlwind of positive energy, always very generous, kind and a wonderfully supportive lead actor.'

In the weeks following this new public scrutiny John has had time to reflect, and has come to the conclusion there are two issues. One is the aftermath of the #MeToo movement; the other is cancel culture.

'I'm a supporter of #MeToo because no person should ever feel that in order to succeed in their career they can be coerced into doing something sexual against their will.

'My problem with cancel culture, on the other hand, is that it can take the form of intolerance and prejudice. It's a culture with no shades of grey. There's no leeway for forgiveness or room for recognising any change in someone's behaviour. Cancel culture tends to talk at you or past you or through you, rather than listen to you. Dialogue is extremely rare.'

He sounds upset now. 'Look, I'm in a good place,' he insists. 'I've got a great husband, a great family, a great "fan family" around me. But I've found it difficult. And yes, some of the things that were being said have been hurtful.

'Scott and I would go to bed on a Saturday night dreading the stories in the Sunday papers. And then I'd wake up to lies. One newspaper printed as fact that I'd been dropped as a judge by Dancing On Ice. Well, apart from the fact that the new panel isn't decided until the autumn, no one from ITV had spoken to me or my agent about this latest upset.'

Ashley Banjo, leader of dance troupe Diversity and a fellow Dancing On Ice judge, has only worked with John for the past couple of years so did not know him during the time of the behaviour he's now being scrutinised for, but has publicly spoken out in support.

'I've told John I'd readily work with him again,' said Ashley. 'He's always fun on Dancing On Ice and he's been very respectful and considerate. I'd like to see him come back. The impression I get from this story is it's something small and historic, something blown out of proportion. What I'm not a supporter of in regard to cancel culture is when the speed of allegation is much faster than the speed of investigation. Before I make a judgment I want to see and understand the facts.'

There has been outrage on Twitter, with many users pointing out that John's 'tomfoolery' could be regarded as indecent exposure, and that the fact it happened among work colleagues is no excuse. 'You don't do that in work. You don't do it full stop. If you did it in the city centre you'd be arrested,' posted one user.

So does he regret the way he behaved? 'You can't wind the clock back,' he says.

'They were different times, which is why I wouldn't do now what I did then. I've acknowledged that by the way my behaviour has changed. The trouble is that certain cancel culture enthusiasts are not allowing me to acknowledge it. I've always believed that the reason I was put on this planet was to bring joy to people, make them laugh. How I do that has evolved over the years. I'm still using humour, just in a different way than might have been the case ten or 20 years ago.'

Now, he says, he wants to move on, both personally and professionally. Many years ago he bought a house for his parents down the street from where he lives with Scott.

'They're getting on now and I've been their primary carer throughout the pandemic, doing their shopping, getting their prescriptions from the pharmacy and so on. My mother broke her pelvis at one stage but she's on the mend now. I'm just thankful I can keep an eye on her and my father. I'm thankful too to the scientists for coming up with the means by which we can combat Covid via vaccinations, and the healthcare workers for administering them and looking after us so selflessly. We owe them a great debt of gratitude.'

What about professionally? 'Well, I'm at the early stages of putting together a show full of anecdotes and songs that will tour throughout the UK when restrictions are finally lifted. As far as I'm concerned, it's back to business as usual.'

But it remains to be seen later this year with the announcement of the line-up for Dancing On Ice whether John's career too might be put on ice.

***

I can see now my actions were pretty juvenile but this was a different time and it's something I would not do today.'

Well, to be blunt, he’s too old to be doing it anyway, people would just roll they eyes at a pathetic old lech instead of maybe giggling at a younger man’s adorable/innocent/whatever tomfoolery.

'In fact many members of the cast and crew have been in touch since this latest storm blew up giving me their support,' he insists. 'I won't name them because I don't want anyone to find themselves in the firing line.'

I think he should name them. Just for fun. Come on! Because I doubt there have been (m)any. If this story teaches anything, it’s that whatever you say/do can come back to haunt your celebrity status years later in most unexpected ways. Or maybe he was always the intended main course, Noel Clarke only the appetiser...

[sarasmallmanwrites]

A-Level Playing Field

Nobody wanted my opinion on this, but it’s hard growing up poor. 

1988. It’s that damp kind of evening outside, clouded by condensation on the single glazed windows, and the smoke from my Nan’s Benson and Hedges. We’ve just had tea – this is North, of course – and everything is accompanied by slices of springy bread heavily lacquered in ‘soft spread’. The gold foiled butter is, usually, saved for my grandad, who works at a fibreglass factory. It’s a very long way away (actually 3.7 miles) and he leaves on his bike every evening with three rounds of tinned ham sandwiches in his bag. Tonight, my mum is out until half nine, working in the care home in the next town, picking me up at ten-ish, depending on how fast she walks. My mum is 27. Five years out of a loveless marriage, living in a council house, she has no qualifications but is working for her City and Guilds and her English ‘O-Level’, GCSEs haven’t hit our vocabulary yet, and won’t until my second cousin Mark does his two years later.

Tonight is Thursday. Nan goes out on a Thursday, which means she will leave the house at half seven in a haze of Vitapoint, Elnett and Lily of the Valley, to play Bingo at the local club. I am being looked after by Alan, my mum’s younger brother, living at home, working in the Mill that overlooks the town below like a stern Victorian overseer. He’s always grumpy, stuck in a town that has no opportunities, and no visible exit. The eighties have been cruel to young, working-class men. The vehement cry of ‘get the fuck out’ hasn’t reached our town but will do in eight years time, on a wave of Britpop, New Labour, cigarettes, and alcohol.

My uncle looks to the television for nightly escape. Thursday is Blackadder, it’s Not The Nine O’Clock News, it’s Comic Strip, it’s A Bit of Fry and Laurie, it’s Red Dwarf, it’s shipwrecked and comatose, and me engrossed on the couch, not sipping mango juice, but milky tea (the North!), as my uncle laughs his head off in between cigarettes. My mum returns, smelling like TCP and the outside, with salty, vinegary chips, and we eat them as we walk the newly tarmacked paths under the orange street lights. I ask her what a goldfish shoal is. She tells me to shush.

I decided that weekend that I wanted to be funny. I mean I could make people laugh when I did my Cilla Black impression, so surely that was a start, and thank to Carry On films I was brilliant at ‘Infamy, Infamy!’, I knew this because my grandad (the cleverest man I knew) had told me so. Even though I was only in Junior One, I knew that you had to be taught how to be funny, that there was definitely some kind of class that you would have to take to learn it, because I had never really been a natural at anything; apart from whistling, which I did with gusto in shrill, high- pitched tones wherever I could.

I read a lot, especially the paper – particularly the Daily Mirror, which probably explains why I am always heavily weighted to the left, and not just because of my ineptitude in heels – and found out that Hugh Laurie, who is obviously the funniest man I have ever encountered, went to Cambridge and was in something called ‘The Footlights’. Then was it, I decided. I was going to go to Cambridge and join ‘The Footlights’ and be funny like Victoria Wood and Dawn French. I imagine ‘The Footlights’ to be a rag-tag theatrical group living on their wits, humour, and more importantly, Pot Noodles. I tell my Grandad that I want to go to Cambridge. He tells me not to be daft.

Now, when I think about it, wanting to go to Cambridge was not a preposterous idea for any child at the age of seven; you are at the start of your education journey. There is plenty of time to get better at things, to practice, to be coached, to improve yourself; but for a working-class girl, who would eventually be the first member of her family to go to university, I might as well have said that I wanted to fly to Mars on fairy wings. But, children who attend private schools are told from the age of four that Oxford or Cambridge are the end goals for their education, with any of the higher-performing Russell Group universities being something that they could settle for, at a push. I didn’t even know what a Russell Group University was until about three years ago, and why would I? For me, in my small artsy primary school with forty children across four year groups, a dismissive attitude towards formal English education, and a liberal fancy for devoting the whole of the summer term to the end of year show, this was not something that was even thought about. Oxford and Cambridge were places printed on the back of books, they weren’t places that you went to university. In fact, most of my primary school teachers hadn’t even been to university but received their qualifications at the local teacher training college; the only exception is a brown jumpered gentleman with a penchant for using cupboards as a disciplinary technique. 

We’ll skip forward a few years later, and high school is a vigorous mixing bowl of talents, it takes until at least year nine before anyone even notices who I am amongst the squall of kids churning about in KS3. Dinner is pink sausage meat wrapped in a translucent puff pastry duvet, a treat even on the hottest days when the fat sticks to your lips; and the terms pass in a haze of cheap cider (the kind that tastes like sick), the floral pout of Cherry Lypsyl, and Chris Evans on the Radio One Breakfast Show; who is hastily snoozed every morning before I smell the lukewarm coffee my mum has left by my bed before she goes to work.  At this point my mum is a newly qualified nurse at the hospice two towns over, her fingers raw from hand sanitiser, but with rolls of antiseptic scented micropore tape that I use for a cacophony of projects. She is on nights right now, spooning gravelly granules of instant coffee into a mug, blurry from sleep, I am cobbling together a mask out of old Cornflake packets, stuck together with nursing supplies and painted with nail varnish that went past its best around the same time as the Thompson Twins. It is 1995, and the country feels like it is on the cusp of something.  I don’t know what, but I’m looking forward to the Year 2000 because I will be fully grown. Well, nineteen.

But what about Oxbridge? Well, for starters, if you attend a state school you have to be so immediately impressive to your teachers that they discuss you in the staffroom. It’s not enough to be good at one particular thing, you have to excel across the board. You have to be so amazingly shiny, that even the most jaded teacher in the school cannot fail to be dazzled by your brightness. For state school kids, Oxbridge is not something that they suggest to the average 10 A*-C kids, it’s not something that they even dangle in front of 10 A*-B kids who are pretty good. At state school, you have to be exceptional for your teachers to even consider you as a candidate, and then you have to achieve enough A*s in your GCSEs that you might as well open a Planetarium. Even then, all they can really do is say ‘I think you could go to Oxford or Cambridge, you know’, or flag you up to the local authority careers service as ‘potential Oxbridge’. There is no Oxford Fast Track programme in state schools, even for exceptional kids.

In a recent social media fracas, one lady proclaimed that if you gave kids a level playing field then poor kids would always triumph because they were more resilient - all those Crispy Pancakes, surely? But for children from a working-class background, we’re not even on the playing field yet; we have to borrow trainers with non-marking soles, scrape around for a quid for the bus. By the time we get to the playing field, we have already been running around for half the day trying to get there, we miss the warm-up because we were late and, honestly, by this point, we’re just knackered because we’ve had to work so much harder just to get there in the first place.

The warm-up is a given to those whose parents have been able to pay for their education – they even get complimentary orange slices for afterwards, just for extra pep and vigour. There are Oxbridge prep classes, extracurricular activities slanted towards the Oxbridge admissions interviews, and chances to take unpaid internships during the summer using family connections. It’s not just that though... it’s little things like knowing it’s pronounced ‘Barkshire’, not Berkshire, it’s when you use a napkin, it’s spending a week skiing at Courchevel. It’s olives. 

In 1998, I don’t know any of these things and, even if I did, my accent with its flat vowels and its Lancashire intonation would give me away in a heartbeat, because I sound like I’ve fallen off a pit pony on my way back t’mill. Things change quickly though. My mum has a baby. A screaming, mewling little boy born during The Simpsons on a Friday evening in October. Now there is absolutely no money for luxuries, and when our TV gets nicked, we end up using the small portable from upstairs. My Nan lends me money here and there to get to college, but it only covers the bus fare, and the small endowment that I receive  - supposedly to cover driving lessons - gets swallowed up with everyday things that seventeen-year olds shouldn’t have to pay for. I’m working for 4 hours a week in Woolies too, £3.10 p/h to stand around the toy department in a slippery polyester blouse the colour of synthetic mint ice cream, before skulking off to the bookshop to spend that money on things for college.  Nothing fancy but, by this point, I am well on my way to being a ‘Funny Girl’, studying a raft of ‘arty-farty’ A-Levels and English thrown in for good measure. The Cambridge Footlights hardly crosses my mind anymore, because Oxford and Cambridge are reserved for the kids doing the hard sciences, maths, law, politics, things that you need a calculator for. You don’t get into Oxford with A-Levels in Theatre Studies, Media, and Performing Arts, despite what they tell you about diversity.

Oxford or Cambridge do not offer a typical British university experience, and how can teachers who have never passed through the rigorous and exhausting Oxbridge admissions procedure be expected to offer any kind of advantage to their gifted and talented students? If you are a working-class parent relying on underfunded, underpaid and overworked FE lecturers to help coach your child through this, then you are immediately on the backfoot compared to a child whose parents can afford private tutors, admissions booklets, and interview coaches. This is no reflection on sixth form teachers in FE establishments across the country, who do all they can to nurture the kids with Oxbridge potential, but when some classes haven’t received new textbooks for two years, where students are encouraged to photocopy their own materials to save costs, you can see where the class difference begins to draw attention to itself without the need for neon yellow highlighters.

My UCAS book arrived in September; an impressive, thinly papered tome with a glossy black and white cover, University Colleges and Admission Services stamped across it in orange. It smells like a cross between the Argos catalogue and a phone book, which I feel is rather apt given that it contains the codes of institutions and courses that will break me out of this godforsaken town: a cypher that I etch out on the application form in black biro.

London

Southampton

Buckinghamshire

Preston

Liverpool

Manchester.

I don’t want to go to any of the bottom three, of course, far too close to where I came from to be relevant.  My second cousin Mark’s stint at Sheffield Hallam seemed to be an excuse for his mum to visit his ‘digs’ once a month with catering sized tins of Nescafe, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t quite looking forward to edging the lid off with a knife and stabbing through that ridged foil. My mum writes a cheque out in her secondary modern handwriting, crossing her fingers that they won’t cash it until after payday.

The discrepancies between low-income working-class families and those with a better income also show here too - this can be something as simple as slow internet connection, not having a working laptop and doing work on smartphones, access to transport, costs for travel to visit universities. Things like this are not included when factoring in costs for students from low income. How can you visit all the different university campuses, with all the travel costs and maybe even overnight accommodation, when your parents can barely afford to keep the lights on? There was only one institution that I wanted to go to. London Institute, a glamourous collection of art colleges that included the London College of Fashion, Central St Martins, and, more importantly for me, The London College of Printing.  The competition was fierce, but I was shortlisted for an interview in the capital with a former editor of the Daily Mirror. My house was showered in happy expletives that day. Even in 1999, tickets from Wigan to London were over £50 for a pre-booked return. My mum cashed in all of her Clubcard points for the ticket. But, just for me, because she hadn’t bought enough milk to cover the cost of two tickets. However, I must have impressed Tony Delano in that office in Clerkenwell, because he gave me an amazingly lowball offer meaning that my A-level results became a terribly graded self-fulfilling prophecy.

Oxford is different from usual universities in that there are colleges, thirty-nine in total. You might have seen them on University Challenge – Balliol, Trinity, Emmanuel, Brasenose – or from reading the Wikipedia pages of any of our last three Prime Ministers, including the incumbent Boris Johnson, who graduated with a 2:1 in 1987. That’s the other thing – you don’t study something at Oxford, you read it – you don’t start your studies, you matriculate, for which you need a robe. Now, I have been told by helpful and obstinate alumni via social media that Matriculation Robes are £25, ex-hire. However, I have also been told by a current Oxford student that the robe cost is £50 minimum, and no-one would dare wear a secondhand robe as ‘everyone would know’. It’s immediately singling yourself out as a Weasley in a room filled with Malfoys.

The accommodation costs are comparable to London prices; however, this does not cover the Christmas break, which means everything needs to be packed up and stored. Not only do you pay for the storage, but you pay for the boxes too. Much to my disappointment, no-one nips out for a Pot Noodle either, students are expected to dine ‘in hall’ (again, more cost!) where you can choose between an informal and a formal sitting – where your gown is required. I imagine for a working-class kid attending Oxford or Cambridge is very much like cosplaying on a Harry Potter set, but without the magic of a bottomless purse. There are balls too at the end of each term, formal affairs with ticket prices over £50. Again, said the former alumni, you don’t have to go! It’s not obligatory!

But let me tell you a harsh reality. Nothing ostracises a poor kid more than not being able to join in because they can’t afford it. Nothing. And we might have great friends who would all chip in and pay for our ticket, or lend us the money, but there is something very working-class about not wanting people to know that we can’t afford it. Surely we should not be asking these young adults who have studied and worked against all odds, to have a second class university experience because they know their parents won’t be able to help. You can’t even get a job to supplement your income either; the majority of colleges stipulate this, and as someone who had to work two term-time jobs at a much less prestigious university to live (even with the glorious student overdrafts of pre-austerity Britain), this really hit home at how much I would have struggled financially if I had gone to either of these institutions.

Recently my daughter applied for university. We get in the car and visit a university each week, driving miles up and down and across the country. We fight over choices and analyse each course based on employability, and whether or not she would like it. The process is completed in clicks and feels much more clinical than twenty years earlier, but rather than heading into unchartered waters, I have a map. It might be old and tattered, but I have a much better idea of where we are going now. My daughter believes that the meritocracy is a lie, and she tells me this in sharp, pointed tones as we receive her A-level results on a rainy Thursday morning. She goes to University in September and spends the autumn sending me videos of the Minster, or tutorials on how to swear in Japanese. She is only the second person in our family to continue on to higher education. I don’t just mean in her generation. I mean in total. We are the exception, not the rule.

One of the first questions someone at Oxford was asked by a fellow student last year was ‘private or state’, she replied ‘private’ and was met with a smile. There was no need to ask who the state school entrant was, as she queried the partridge and asparagus served for dinner – ‘this chicken is tough. Is that grass?’- and arrived for the formal sitting with her gown covering a denim skirt and shimmery top underneath. Private school teaches these things, no desperate faux pas for Isobel or Jeremy, whereas state schools do not have the resources or the knowledge to run classes on etiquette for the small number of their students that make it through the intense application procedures. This is not saying that low-income children should be discouraged – not at all – instead, it is saying that there is something inherently wrong with the system. At private school, you are disappointed if you don’t get into Oxbridge, whereas the state school child who gets in is an extraordinary anomaly talked about for years in hushed tones of reverence by the faculty.

And this is the issue with saying that children are on a level playing field, that everyone is measured on their own merit; because it is not true. For children on very low incomes, the odds are unfairly stacked against them, and the issues such as 2020’s disastrous A-Level results just add more bricks to an already near-insurmountable wall.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 31

Catch up on AO3

EMMA

What a crazy fucking weekend.

I watched Sebastian walk through the doors before I drove off. I was barely back on the main road when the weight of the time together really hit me. We shoved a lot into a short period of time, but the short period of time wasn’t that short. Total of four days. Four days isn’t that long to get to know someone, unless during those four days you were apart for maybe ten hours. Two before dinner and eight after. We weren’t apart from Saturday at eleven until just now. Three full days, minus him leaving equals sixty-eight hours of an uninterrupted time, add in fifteen minutes at the grocery and nine and a half for dinner. Now were at seventy-seven hours and forty-five minutes together. I have no idea why I did this math. Usually when you’ve known someone for four days you’ve hung out, talked on the phone, did a few things. We didn’t do that. We spent seventy-eight hours together. Barely any of it sleeping. The problem, which isn’t much of a problem, is trying to accept how I'm feeling about Sebastian after four days and seventy-eight hours sound like more time, which makes the difficulty saying goodbye make sense.

I need to talk to my best friend. My drive isn't nearly long enough. I told my vehicle to call Angie and waited for her to pick up.

"My favorite person!"

I smiled at the sound of her voice, "Even on a long weekend Tuesday morning?" Those are almost worse than Mondays. The short week being the only redeeming quality.

"Always." We both laughed. "I'm dog assed tired. We didn't leave Eli's parents until late. There were too many one last songs. How was your weekend?"

"Apparently it was the weekend for visiting parents. I met a man who was up here helping his parents move."

The excitement in her voice was clear, "Did you? I want to hear absolutely everything. Wait, is this a good meet or a bad meet? I still want details, but need to be prepared."

"Ang, he is incredible. I... he's incredible. It was such a good weekend. I want to flop down on my bed kicking and screaming. He is sweet, funny, and we talked for hours and hours. We had so much fun. And that was before the sex. Parts of my body are still tingling. When I get home my sheets are going to smell like him." I took a shuddering breath. Wow, it felt good to get that out.

"Holy shit!" Angie's laugh was pretty close to the best part of my day and I’d had a really good day. "You're gushing over this man. I can’t wait to hear everything. Why didn't you call me last night?"

"Because I only just dropped him off at the train station."

"Explains your still tingling parts."

Yes, it does. Meet up on FaceTime about four?"

"Sounds good."

We hung up and I felt like I could make it through the day without exploding. There is something about a new romance, especially when it comes out of nowhere, that fills you with so much energy. It's fun and exciting. I walked into school with a ridiculous grin and an idea.

I had to work fast. My kids would be coming soon. I ducked into Mallory's room on the way to mine, "Hey, can you come help me for a minute?"

"Sure. Right behind you."

Mallory was a fifth grade teacher. She would definitely corroborate that age were smart asses, but she liked smart asses. We'd started the same year and became friends going through all the orientation and training stuff together. Mal had clued me in on the gossipy teacher I'd gone out with a few times. I would not have been the first story he'd told.

Mallory caught up to me, "Everything ok? I missed you yesterday."

We were good friends, but not good enough for me to tell her about Sebastian before talking to Angie. "Yeah, I was enjoying the long weekend and wasn't ready to be social."

"I hear you. Felt like a work pot luck."

My day had been much better. "I laid around all day." Truth. We walked into my room and I sat my stuff down, handing my phone off to Mallory. "I want a new picture for my final newsletters. Wanted to get it before all this white got dirty."

Mallory took my offered phone, "You look really pretty."

"Thank you." I wanted a very first grade teacher picture. I went to the bookcase in front of our nearly full word wall. I held one hand out like I was showing off our year, which I was, but I was showcasing the words baby, blue, and boy. She took a few pics, I gave her a quick hug, and told her I'd see her at lunch. I took a couple of close up selfies before sending the full body one to Sebastian with a text saying, "Ready for the week."

I got back, "Damn..."

My kids started arriving and it was lunch before I checked my phone. I had a two word message this time, "Closer, please." I picked the selfie I thought he'd like best and sent it before heading to the teacher's lounge for lunch.

It would be after school before I heard from him again.

Sebastian ~ So pretty

Emma ~ Glad you think so. TY

Sebastian ~ Posting something on IG. Not creepy to follow now.

Emma ~ We're past the creepy zone?

Sebastian ~ More or less. My thoughts about a first grade teacher are more inappropriate than creepy.

Emma ~ Completely different.

Sebastian ~ Good day?

Emma ~ Very! Heading home. You?

Sebastian ~ Meeting with manager. Tell you all about later. Safe drive home.

Emma ~ TTFN

I headed home, skipping my usual trip to the gym. Volleyball practice could count. I was out on my deck with a glass of iced tea when Angie called right before four.

"Start at the beginning."

I went through how we met, dinner, and the festival on Saturday. The falling asleep on the couch got us laughing.

"He sounds adorable, Emma. Tell me about him. Where's he live?  What’s he do?”

Angie knew all about Ed and she was married to a musician, so I wasn't concerned about her reaction to him being a celebrity.

"He's tall and works out. His body his amazing. Gorgeous blue eyes, brown hair with just a little wave, and a beard. His lips ... his smile lights up his face and he has crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He's gorgeous."

"Of course, he is."

The slight sarcasm in her voice wasn't doubting what I said, but the level.

"You think it's the sex haze." We call the tendency to find someone more attractive if the sex is good being caught in the sex haze. It will blur a lot of faults. "Except he is objectively gorgeous. Want to see a picture?"

"You bitch! You should have led with a picture."

I laughed, "No, I shouldn't have." I sent her the silly picture with the bear from the festival. "I wanted you to hear about him before knowing who he is."

Her eyebrows pulled down, "Who he is?" I heard her text notification and watched her face go from confused to wide eyed, "Holy fuck, Em! That's Sebastian Stan."

"I didn't recognize him until we were outside the grocery. I started laughing." I told her about him not wanting to be anything more than a guy on a date and our conversation about Ed. I could see the disbelief on her face. I didn't talk about Ed. "I thought it would make things easier."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. It's just weird how you meet this famous actor, but aren't all that impressed because your second dad is in Pearl Jam. It's like some weird fate thing. Ed's not going to be happy."

I laughed loudly, "Oh, he’ll fucking hate it."

I told Angie the rest of the story, leaving out some of the more personal bits. When I finished we sat silent for a minute.

Angie smiled, "What do you need from me? You already know the complications that come with being famous. Not particularly stable relationships, paps, and fans. He doesn't sound like a paranoid narcissist, which is a bonus."

I nodded. I did know the pluses and minuses. "I don't need anything really." I took a deep breath, "I needed to talk to someone who wouldn't give a fuck about who he is. My dopamine levels have got to be astronomical. I like him. It started in the grocery, when I realized he was lost and not a rehab patient. There was something about him, how he felt. I immediately wanted to know him and the more I got to know the more I wanted to be with him." I paused, smiled and shook my head a little. "There was this connection. It's comfortable and exciting at the same time. I know it doesn't make sense, but it makes perfect sense. He just feels right."

Angie let the fingers over her lips fall away, "Em, if any one deserves someone, something wonderful it’s you." We shared a smile. "When are you going to see him again?"

"This weekend. He’s coming up for the volleyball tournament." Just thinking about seeing him made me grin.

"Hey," Angie's eyes lit up, "I think Eli met him." She picked up her Macbook and started walking. "A party or something." I could see she was in her living room. "Hey babe, didn't you meet Sebastian Stan?"

I couldn't see him, but recognized Eli's voice, "Who are you talking to?"

I yelled, "Hi, Eli!

His face came into view as Angie sat next to him, "Hi, Em. Shit, are you two fangirling over a Marvel movie?"

I said no at the same time Angie said yes.

Eli rolled his eyes at us. A frequent occurrence when we were all together. Still, he answered. "A couple of times. He's infuriatingly better looking in person."

"What's he like?" Angie, not me.

Eli looked between us before answering, "Nice guy. Funny as hell when he's drunk and they start talking shit. Boone's husband, Kirk, worked on Gossip Girl. Seb's been to gig, a couple of parties. He was filming something and couldn't come to the wedding, but he was at the bachelor party."

Angie shoved him, "Where were we at these parties?"

He looked at her like she was crazy, "You could have been there. No one pays any attention to him. If anything, he tries to blend in. He’s kind of an introvert. And really, would either of you recognized him before Civil War?"

Angie smirked, "One of us wouldn't recognize him if she ran into him."

Eli narrowed his eyes at her then looked at me, "What have you done, Emiliana?"

I waved my hands around in front of me, "Why am I getting the dad voice?"

More eye rolling, "What have you done?"

I rolled my eyes right back at him. "I went to the grocery and there was this guy in a baseball cap and hoodie cursing and talking to himself in the baking aisle. Turns out he was Sebastian Stan."

Eli snickered, "Sounds like him." Angie put her phone in front of him. I could see the wheels in his head spinning. "You would never ask for a selfie. Hook ups don’t include photos. You went on a date."

I raised my eyebrows.

Eli copied me, "You're dating him."

"It would seem so."

"And I’m providing a character reference?"

I shook my head, vehemently, "No. I was having a teenage girl moment calling my best friend to rave about the new guy and she remembered you'd met him. I promised not to Google." They stared at me, "I want to get to know him not research. Fuck knows I don't want him to find me on Google."

I guess Eli could till the last bit shook me, "Em, he would never know where to look."

I shook myself out of the mood, "Yeah, so no, I'm not wanting details on him. He’s a good guy. He’s sweet, good to his mom, was nothing but respectful to me. He’s good to me.”  These were my best friends. “I know he partied too much for a while and there was an ugly breakup where they fought in public, said some mean shit. I don't want information unless you need to wave me off."

Eli frowned and shook his head, "I wouldn’t ask your permission to wave you off."

"I love you too, Eli."

[kittensjonsa]

Otherwise, Engaged

The Proposal AU

Summary: Sansa has to get through a tough weekend. Her boss, weekend with the family and saving her job. Oh, right, and a fake engagement too.

---

Sansa could feel her heart thumping in sync with the throbbing in her temples. Five more minutes.. just five more minutes please.

He was always early and almost everday he would step in just three minutes shy of nine o' clock in the morning. And here she was internally screaming at the line at Starbucks, moving at a glacial pace.

“Okay thanks!” Sansa hollered at the ruddy boy, the same one whom she greeted every morning when she stopped by to get her cuppas. Lucky for her, he knew exactly what her order was and all she needed to do was swipe her credit card. He was her life saver. Scrambling into a cab, she prayed, at least she'd get there a minute before her boss.

Sansa knew she should have stopped at one chapter but a wave of inspiration came over and one chapter became three - and the next thing she knew she jumped, awakened by the loud metal clang of her stationery holder that must have toppled onto the floor in the midst of her slumber.

“Oh shit! Hold please!” Sansa sighed in relief and mumbled her thanks as she rushed into the lift. She could still make in time.

8.56 am. Whew.

But of course like most of her days, it all turned to shit in a split second.

“Son of a! Nooo!” a warm sensation pooled at her chest, one of the coffee cups had smashed onto her black dress as the mail boy she raced into frantically picked up the envelopes strewn all over the floor.

“Arrghhh!” Sansa screeched and glared at him as she stomped to her desk. Angrily, she punched her computer start button. Nothing ever goes right. Nothing. 8.57 am.

“This will have to do. Jeyne will have to do without this shirt for one more day,” Sansa mumbled to herself, ripping open the plastic that covered a dry-cleaned white silk shirt she could wear over her dress. She meant to return it to Jeyne that morning but well, this was an emergency. The stain wasn't noticeable at all but Sansa was too self-conscious to ignore it.

Tying up the hems into somewhat of a cropped top over her v-neck black dress now stained and smelling of triple shot espresso, Sansa figured it looked professional enough for any meetings today. She just had to pull it off for the next ten hours or so.

“Good morn- hey is that my top?” Jeyne chuckled at Sansa's makeshift style statement.

“A teeny accident but I swear I will return this to you tonight if I have to okay. I am so sorry,” Sansa pouted, hoping her one and only friend at work would just let it go and leave it, seeing how the day was turning out to be.

“No biggie Sansa but looks good on you. I should try that some time.”

Oh thank god.

Then, the IM dinged. Two words flashed on her computer screen.

“IT'S HERE!”

Sansa looked around and watched everyone scramble back into their cubicles; no more giggling by the water dispenser, no longer was there laughing by the coffee machine just heard seconds ago. Everyone was just trying to avoid getting stuck in any common areas, any walkways that meant they had to come face to face with the boss.

Her boss, that is. Jon Snow.

How unfortunate was she to have a boss everyone loathed. Satan, she dubbed him once. Well she had many names for him, recounting many tales of her frustrations at work during her many calls to her family and it became a term of endearment almost. She could probably write a best seller one day alá Devil Wears Prada - with film rights and everything. But for now, it's ten hours a day, weekends at the office and crowded book fairs.

A figure in black went past her. His head of jet black curls was unmistakable. He was a male Medusa; never look him in the eye unless you want to be turned to ash, metaphorically speaking. The rumours that went around were ridiculously vicious albeit amusing.

“Good morning, Mr Snow. As always, here's your c-”

“Sansa, get George on the line. I just scored him an interview on Oprah and I'm gonna need to talk to him. Also, after that get Aliser a meeting with me because that dick is gonna get it from me today,” her boss strutted into his office, as if he owned the building, without as much as greeting her since his eyes were too glued to the email he was furiously typing on his phone.

“Coffee.” Sansa mumbled and cleared her throat as she waited for him to grab the takeaway cup from her outstretched hand. Like clockwork, he did, still ignoring her like as always, every morning. Sansa had gotten used to it.

Jon Snow settled into his chair and immediately turned on his computer, his phone now tossed aside now that there were more important things to start off with.

Yep, good morning to you too Satan.

“Well, so we have a staff meeting at 10, a conference call with the Westerlands office at 11 and you have an appointment at the Immigration office at 1. So should I cancel your lunch and push it back to 2 pm?”

Jon swivelled from the screen and looked at her. His brows were furrowed and to Sansa that was never a good thing. Three years with this man, this slave driver, she knew everything there was to know about him, his likes, dislikes, his micro expressions that helped her navigate through this murky depths of hell she called a job - of being the executive assistant of one the most well known and respected former Pulitzer prize winning journalist now turned editor-in-chief of Mormont & Sons Publishing. Good things don't come easy, she would tell herself that every day, through the late night coffee and dinner runs, the book fairs and the weekends in the office.

“Immigration? What? No, cancel that. I filled out those papers already. You sent them out, didn't you?”

Sansa nodded. Of course she did, she also collected his dry cleaning, his groceries and the expensive watch he had serviced, which took her an hour and half to get to the other side of the city because they were the only ones Jon trusted enough to do.

“Right, so back on with the lunch meeting then.” Sansa inched her way to the door as Jon turned back around to his computer.

“Sansa?”

Ugh.

“Who's Rick and why does he think I'm hot? Why does he have his Tinder handle here?”

What?

“Umm.. I have no idea who that is.” Sansa froze at her spot.

Jon took a sip of his coffee, his stern face visibly amused by the awful scribble on the white coffee cup. “Triple espresso shot, no sugar. Hmm.”

“Well, I'm guessing that should be my coffee that was meant for me,” Sansa finally admitted.

Jon pursed his lips as he stared at her. “So, you're telling me that you too, drink triple espresso shot with no sugar?”

Sansa shrugged. “It grows on you.. I guess.”

“I thought you drank tea.”

“Well... variety, right?”

Jon's eyes were still on her, unamused. “You spilled my coffee didn't you?”

Sansa sighed. This day was no better than any other. If only she could catch a break.

Jon pointed to his own jacket and then to her. Sansa looked down and saw a small spot of dark brown on her makeshift cropped jacket, the pristine, shiny and well pressed silk blouse. Damn it.

“Good save on the shirt.”

Umm.. thanks?

“If... there's nothing else, you know where I'll be,” Sansa pointed to her desk outside as she slowly made her exit.

Then, the phone rang.

“Mr Snow's office,” Sansa answered dutifully. “It's Mr Thorne. Do you want to take it?”

Jon thought for a moment, then gestured to a general direction - it could only mean he wanted a one on one.

“Mr Thorne, Mr Snow is on his way to you right now.”

Jon stood up and tossed a notepad to Sansa. “You're coming with me, I need a witness.”

A witness? For what?

Murder?

“Oh you self righteous son of bitch!” the bellow shook her and Sansa almost dropped her notepad.

“You think you can waltz right in here with your big head and big ass editor ego and tell me what to do? I don't think so!” Aliser yelled at him, ripping the glasses from his face.

Shit. Don't punch each other. Please.

“Oh Thorne, you really are a thorn in my ass. Actually everyone's ass. You're just a lazy, entitled braggart who can't do the job right.”

Aliser only scoffed. “So you think your hot shot award is going to get you places huh? Throw your weight around like you own this shit?

“We told you many times, get George on board, get George on board, sign him and write a couple of books. But guess who did that instead? Me. I always have to finish your job for you because you can't do it ever.”

Aliser turned silent but his face was red with rage. Sansa couldn't blame him. He was being fired.

“Look, you have two months to look for another gig. I won't make you sign a non-compete and I'll tell everyone you resigned. I'll make sure Finance settles a leaving bonus for you. For all your years of service. How about that, huh?” Jon coolly offered in an effort to diffuse the rapidly growing tension in the air. Sansa gulped. Please take it, I want to get out of this room.

“You're going to regret this Jon Snow,” Aliser warned. Jon only shrugged and made his way to the door. Sansa quickly followed behind him and only managed a polite smile to Aliser.

“You got all that down didn't you? About the non compete and everything?” Jon asked as they made their way back to his office.

“Make a note to HR and let them get on it. And tell them I'm scouting for new editors. Which means I need you this weekend.”

Sansa's heart sank at the thought. No not this weekend. It's Gramp's 80th.

“Sansa? Did you hear what I just said?”

Sansa cursed under her breath and turned her attention back to Jon as they both stood in front of his office.

“Yes.. yes of course. Got it all down. But this weekend-”

“Why? Do you have plans?” Jon's tone was enough to warrant a slap from her.

“It's my grandfather's birthday weekend and I already told them I'll be there.”

Jon looked at her unblinking. “Well, tell them you'll come for the next one. I mean, if you want to keep your job that is. You do know birthdays happen every year, right?”

Sansa hated every time he brought that up. If it wasn't the book fairs it would be overtime at the office. When does it end?

Sansa bit her lip; there was no point arguing. “All right. I'll call them later.”

Jon winked and gave a token smile. “That's the spirit.”

Defeated, Sansa inhaled deeply, picking up the phone on her desk, hoping no one would be home pick up the call.

Sansa Stark, Editor. Sansa Stark, Editor. Sansa Stark, Editor.

It was the only thing in her mind that could help pull her through whatever life had in store for her that day.

“Hey Sansa, Mr Mormont wants to see Mr Snow right away. He says it's urgent,” Jeyne's voice broke her out her reverie.

Great, another one.

[queeniewritesce]

Shall We Dance 1/?

Chris Evans rolled out of his bed and ran a hand down his face, scrubbing the last remaining traces of sleep. It was good to be home even if his break was coming to an end after forty-five days. Having wrapped up filming for Captain America: Civil War in late August, he had been happy to get some rest and visit his friends and family in Boston before heading down south to work on his next project, Gifted. He was looking forward to working with Octavia Spencer again and the script was solid, a good departure from the explosions and green screens this last few years provided.

Last night had been his last full night at home and Chris and some of his friends went to Mccreedy’s Pub for beers and pool. He arrived home around four A.M, his pockets lighter and highly drunk.

He groggily made his way to the bathroom of his en-suite, bending down to grab his checkered boxers from the floor. After relieving himself he looked himself in the mirror while washing his hands and face. Yes, it was good to be home, no fake fights to learn, no need for a daily shave and no places he had to b...

“SHIT!” His voice was loud, and it echoed in the empty bathroom. “Shit, shit, shit...”

He raced back to his bedroom and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The black and white Patriots logo blinked to life and right above it the clock read eleven fifty-two A.M. Groaning, he sat back on the edge of the bed and pulled his contacts app, quickly dialing finding and dialing the number he was looking for.

The call connected after three rings and before he was able to say anything the sound of giggling and laughter reached his ears. He was missing a great time with his friends judging by the background noise.

“…and you’re a crazy woman! Your danger Will Robson button must’ve broken when you’re born!” came Garret’s voice on the phone followed by more laughter. “Chris my man you’re fucking late!” Chris heard a feminine voice saying ‘Fuck you Gar’ on the background followed by “Silence woman, I’m on the phone!” from Garret.

“Yeah, ‘bout that…” Chris could hear the stadium music playing, welcoming everyone to the Gillet Stadium, home of the New England Patriots. “I’ll probably won’t make it today bro, I just woke up and I feel like someone drove a tank over my head.”

“You sound like crap as well bro…” Garret sighed on the phone. “Listen, you want us to leave? It’s not fair that we’re using your suite and you won’t even be here.”

Chris felt like a jackass, Garret had come up to him a few days after he had been home and asked if Chris would be okay with him borrowing his suite at Gillet Stadium and taking a few friends to watch the Pats play. It would be Garret’s girlfriend’s birthday on the 31st and the game was the start of one long birthday weekend culminating with a special Halloween party.

“NO, no, come on man, I’d never make you leave!” He groaned when he got up, pacing the room. “We’ve made these plans like a month ago, it’s part of Penny’s birthday celebration and you shouldn’t have to halt your plans because I fucked up. I’ll let the suits known I won’t be in but you’ll stay put and enjoy the game, ok?”

He leaned on the window pane with his right arm, soaking up the sun and watching life go by on the streets below his old townhouse. He had purchased the house in late March and there was still so much to do to restore the house to his former 1900 glory. It excited and terrified him, but Chris was adamant he would do the renovations himself.

“You sure you can’t swing by halftime? We’re gonna kill some Delphinus ass and you’re root to watch the game with.”

Chris could hear Guillermo in the background screaming ‘kill the fish, kill the fish’ while the same woman's voice from before laughed and corrected him saying dolphins were mammals and calling him a dumbass. She had a hearty laugh, loud enough to be heard through the phone call but not high-pitched and he could’ve sworn he heard her snort during his conversation with Garret. Adorable... the thought crossed his mind for a second.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. I’ll just take some Advil and go back to bed, commiserate over my own drunk ass. My flight is at nine P.M. and I really don’t want to flight while hangover and football is only football when there’s beer involved. Put Penny on the phone though, I wanna wish my future wife a Happy Birthday.” Chris laughed knowing he’d get a rise out of his friend.

“Fuck you, Evans, she’d never leave my ass for yours, you’re too pretty for a man, she likes them rough and…“ Garret was interrupted by what Chris deduced was an elbow to his side.

“I actually like my man without a potty mouth, Mr. Haywood… Hey Chris! Thank you so much for the surprise!” Penny sweet voice came through the speaker.

“Well babygirl, then I’m definitely not the man for you, am I?” Chris laughed with Penny. “Listen, I’m sorry I can’t make it today, I have no excuses but I’m a drunken fool.”

“Yes, yes you are!” she laughed before getting serious, her nurse voice on “Are you drinking plenty of water? Have you taken some ibuprofen? Order some greasy food and try not to stay on your bed all day, alright?”

“Yes Nurse Seabrook, no Nurse Seabrook.” He chuckled and made the way to the kitchen to find the Advil bottle. Penny was a nurse at Christopher’s Haven and had met Garret when both Chris and his friend had gone for a visit. Garret left saying she would be his girl one day and true to his world he had won her over not a month later. That was two years ago and Chris was sure a proposal wasn’t far off in the distance. She made his best friend happy and for that he loved her.

“Oh, shut up with the Nurse Seabrook nonsense would ya? I’m just sad you won’t get to meet my sister, she flew in last night and I was looking forward to introducing you two.” Penny said while he opened the bottle and got two pills.

“Are you trying to set me up with your sister, Penny?” he opened a cabinet door and got a glass.

“I do not set people up Christopher, I find pieces of a puzzle that are supposed to go together and let destiny take its course.” She giggled. Yeah, she was totally trying to set them up.

“You’re something else Penny!” he sighed after drinking a full glass of water. “Listen I gotta try and get some more sleep, but happy birthday you little cupid, I hope it’s a great one. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, and I promise to make it up to you somehow.”

“There’s no need to make it up to me, dear. You’re a great friend and a busy man. We’ll see you when you’re back ok?”

“I love you both very much, I’ll call you when I have a chance.” Chris made his way back to his bedroom, closing the blackout curtains and sliding into his bed before disconnecting the call.

His dreams were discombobulated images of football, his friends and a laugh that he couldn’t place a face to, but warmed him whenever he heard it.

__...__...__

Chris looked back to the stadium and he could see people filling the seats around the suites. A soundproof glass kept the noise at a normal level inside his, but the excitement was palpable. Families donned Patriots jerseys and Santa hats, the jumbotron showed a man dressing head to toe like a giant Christmas’ tree and then the image changed to a couple of girls dressed like sexy elves. Man, they must be freezing in this weather… It was December 20th and the temperature had dropped dramatically the night before, right now it was 26° but the weatherman talked about it getting as low as 15° during the game.

He was glad he had purchased a season suite. It wasn’t cheap but it was heated, had leather seats in the inside area, four HD TVs playing the other games of the day as well as the one being played on the field below and it came with their personal bar down the hall, tucked away from the crowd. Chris wasn’t against meeting fans and taking pictures, but sometimes he just wanted to have fun with his friends, let his guard down and enjoy himself.

Some of his drinking buddies were already there, a beer bottle on their hands and talking shit about a lot of things.

“Chris, thanks again for the invite brother, it’s not every day you get to watch the Pats kick some Titan’ ass from the 50-yard line,” Samuel said while raising his beer bottle in a salut.

“Here, here, let’s hope they freeze on their socks. Tennessee might be cold, but this Foxborough man! It’s our territory.” Another man, Dix, clinked his bottle to the first ones and they drank, Chris, following with their own salut and drink.

He turned his attention to the door when it opened, revealing Guillermo and his girlfriend Dora, Garret, and Penny. She had her head turned back and was speaking with someone just outside the door.

“I know right, she looked like you pissed on her Cheerios, she was so mad!” Penny laughed while fully entering the room.

And then he heard it, the laugh that had accompanied his dreams those past two months got louder when it entered the room.

“It’s not my fault she’s wearing stilettos in this weather. It’s fucking freezing and she had on fifteen-inch hills, a dress, and no tights! Who does that for Pete’s sake? Anyway, if she had moved when I said excuse me she wouldn’t have gone down like a sack of potatoes. My ass needs space to move around, you know that!” the girl finished and closed the door behind her, already unbuttoning her jacket. “Gosh, so warm, I love this place, I really do.”

“Yeah, like your ass is really that big Lucy.” Penny also removed her jacket, taking both and handing them over to Garret. “CHRIS!”

Penny sauntered to Chris with open arms, her small frame easily being engulfed by his.

“Welcome back big shot, how’s my favorite Captain?” she said hugging him with all her might. Penny really gave the best hugs he thought while hugging her back.

“I’m the only Captain you know Pen, of course I’m your favorite!”

“Actually, you’re not, our brother JP is also a captain”, she shrugged and moved her eyes to Penny, a smirk on her lips “and I’m telling him you said that!”

“Lucy, don’t you dare!” Penny was smiling while hugging Chris sideways. “Ok, so you’re my favorite fake Captain, JP is my favorite real Captain. How’s that?” she showed her tongue to Lucy before remembering that introductions were in other. “Chris this is my big sister and an even bigger pain in the ass, Lucy Seabrook. BabyBoo, this is the dorkiest man on earth, Chris Evans.”

In the few seconds that it took for Lucy to walk the three steps between them, Chris finally took a good look at the girl. Around 5’4”, she had a full hourglass figure, bigger than what usually attracted him but something about her called to him. A round face with amazing green eyes stared back at him, her full, kissable lips on display sporting a reddish-pink hue. Her red hair had shades going from strawberry blond to mahogany, but the main portion was a deep burnt orange, reaching past her waist and brushing the top of her ass cheeks. While her breasts looked gorgeous on that sweater, he had always been an ass man. And what a great ass that was, all round and perky. His cock twitched at the thoughts running through his mind.

She had dimples when she smiled and he caught himself smiling back with the same intensity, before enveloping her small hands with his.

‘I guess when people talk about feeling a shock going thru them when they meet someone they click with, this is the feeling they’re talking about.’ Chris laughed to cover the shiver that ran through his body.

“Hi.”

[peraltasames]

mountains and valleys (and all that will come in between) - chapter one

Jake, Amy, and four distinct yet painfully similar times the universe pulled them apart and pushed them back together.

read on ao3

part one: undercover

When Jake leaves Amy standing outside the precinct, her mouth slightly agape and the air sucked out of her lungs, she doesn’t know when she’s going to see him again.

In a much darker realm of possibility that she doesn’t dare to explore for too long, she doesn’t know if she’s going to see him again.

She recalls in vivid horror the time that her old precinct, back when she was a beat cop, received word that one of their detectives was tortured and killed on an undercover operation scarily similar to the one Jake is embarking on. She hopes and prays that the detective the NYPD lost that day five years ago didn’t leave some unlucky man or woman with a confession of love and longing that they would never get the chance to act on.

She stands in place, her feet incapable of movement, for an indefinite amount of time. She isn’t sure if it’s five minutes or an hour that pass by - or, if she’s lucky, the entirety of the three to five months that the FBI estimates Jake’s mission to take - but eventually the wind picks up and a shiver runs up her spine. She feels her phone buzz in her pocket and wonders how long it’s been doing that, how long she’s been completely unaware her surroundings.

Teddy Wells

Hi, Amy. Are you still coming over? It’s unlike you to be late.

Teddy Wells

(2) Missed Calls

There are a million things she wants to do right now: run after Jake (though he’s long gone), scream, throw something breakable, drink an entire bottle of vodka, flee the country. Spending time with Teddy is low on the list. She isn’t obligated to - they haven’t been dating for that long and it’s perfectly okay for her to choose a night in without giving him a full explanation - but blowing off her boyfriend would mean that something has changed.

She can’t admit that she feels as though her entire world has been shifted on its axis. Not to herself. Definitely not to the man she is dating. And not to Jake, either, because he never gave her the damn chance to.

He disappeared like a wildfire that was suddenly extinguished, and she’s left to deal with the rubble.

-

According to the alarm clock next to her bed, which she must arch her body over Teddy’s sleeping form to read properly, it’s nearly three in the morning.

Precisely five hours after the time that Teddy insists they go to bed following their evening crossword, and she’s gotten - in total - about one hour of sleep.

It’s not Amy’s fault. She knows she has to be up in three hours for work and it’s going to be a busy day working as a secondary on Rosa’s homicide case. She knows she’s barely slept all week and her body is hating her for it.

She blames a part of her brain that she knows from AP bio but is too damn tired to recall for the images that appear every time she closes her eyes.

Jake, laughing in the passenger seat of her squad car about the imaginary backstory he’s invented for one of his undercover personas.

Jake, biting his lip and absentmindedly running his hand through messy hair as he stares pensively at a case file, the gears in his mind turning wildly.

Jake, standing in front of her eight days ago and saying “I kinda wish something could happen between us...romantic-stylez”.

The ethical complications of thinking such thoughts about another man while in bed next to her sleeping boyfriend clog her mind, making it even harder to rest.

She trudges to the kitchen, surrendering to her losing battle with sleep. Her socked feet tip-toe on the hardwood floor to avoid any creaking sounds that may wake Teddy.

It isn’t until she raises a glass of water to her lips that she notices her hands are shaking. Her entire body is shaking, actually, which is one of the first indicators of an oncoming panic attack. She tries to breathe slowly, close her eyes and count to ten, like she’s been instructed to. It works some of the time.

“C’mon, Amy,” she mumbles to herself, shutting her eyes even tighter as she feels tears threaten to escape. “Get it together.”

I know you’re with Teddy, and I know it’s going really well.

She shakes her head, slamming her glass down on the counter a bit too loudly. “Stop thinking about it,” she says aloud, willing Jake’s voice in her head to just disappear.

I don't know what's gonna happen on this assignment, and if something bad goes down, I think I'd be pissed at myself if I didn't say this.

Her fingernails dig into her palms as she tries to ground herself to reality. She’s worried that these thoughts and emotions are going to eat her alive.

“Fuck,” she blurts out, her hand coming to cover her mouth the moment she blurts out the word. The Santiagos conditioned their children not to curse at a young age through loss of before-bed reading time, and it’s stuck with her through to adulthood. She rarely swears, and only does so in situations that demand such a word to be spoken. But, damn, if this doesn’t fit the bill, what does?

I kinda wish something could happen, between us, romantic styles.

In the darkness of her kitchen, with not a soul there to hear her, she whispers:

“So do I.”

-

It takes another five days for Amy to confide in someone. She’s not thinking about Jake - one of the rare moments of the past two weeks that her thoughts manage to travel elsewhere - as she sits on Teddy’s living room sofa, reading one of her favourite crime novels while he flips through the channels.

“Do you want to watch this one?”

She’s too engrossed in her novel, which is steadily climbing towards the big climax she’s read a dozen times but never tires of, to look up from its pages.

“Whatever you want, I’m not really watching,” she mumbles, hastily turning the page.

Teddy murmurs words of agreement and selects whatever title he was pondering, and it takes about twenty seconds for Amy to recognize the dialogue.

“You throw quite a party. I didn’t realize they celebrated Christmas in Japan.”

Before she looks up at the screen, she’s briefly transported to several distinct memories of the past few years: Jake’s couch four months ago, a half-eaten pizza and two cans of orange soda in front of them, watching this very movie; a year before that, viewing it (along with the sequel) at Charles’ place during Jake’s surprise birthday party; her first year at the Nine-Nine, sitting in the break room with a shitty laptop on the table playing the film while Captain McGintley took his afternoon nap, despite Amy’s better judgement.

“Everything okay?”

Amy glances down at the book, which she unknowingly dropped in her lap as her eyes fixed on Bruce Willis shooting a gun on Teddy’s television. She realizes with a sharp pain in her chest that this is the first time in years that she’s watched this movie without Jake present.

“Do you not like Die Hard? We can watch something else-“

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head. “I mean, no, I don’t like Die Hard, but...that’s not what’s bothering me.”

Teddy furrows his eyebrows and turns off the television, twisting his body to face her and, perhaps, to figure out what she’s thinking.

“There’s a reason I’ve been kind of weird the past couple of weeks.”

He prompts her to continue with a slow nod. It certainly has not gone unnoticed the way she’s flinched away from so many of his touches, declined his advances in the bedroom every evening, stared into space for most of their dinners together.

“You know how Peralta got fired?”

Teddy nods again, somewhat more apprehensively. Jake’s been a source of tension for them before, from their first date after Tactical Village Day when Teddy questioned if they had some sort of romantic history and Amy rambled incessantly about how he’s her coworker and she would never date him rather than giving a simple and far less suspicious “no.”

“You can’t tell anyone this, but he had to get fired so he could go on an undercover mission with the FBI. And before he left, he, um...” She swallows the lump in her throat, which now feels incredibly dry. “He told me he had feelings for me.”

Teddy’s eyes widen, and he discards the blanket previously draped over his lap.

“Well, you told him it’s never gonna happen, right?” he asks quickly, anger building in his voice.

“I didn’t really get the chance, he kinda just dropped the bomb and walked away and we can’t have any contact-“

“Do you have feelings for him?”

The right answer to that question isn’t immediately evident to Amy - a “no” would be a blatant lie, but “yes” would immediately terminate a relationship that she isn’t sure she’s ready to see the end of. Teddy is the perfect man on paper, the kind of man that her father would probably approve of upon their first introduction. He’s a good cop, just like Jake, but his approach to detective work is methodical and precise and completely unlike the frantic (brilliant) energy of Jake solving a case nobody else, even Amy herself, could solve. She feels comfortable with him, she feels safe, but she’s wondered from time to time if it’s a little too safe. It’s only logical - there’s no way he can break her heart if he never really has it in the first place.

Regardless of her intentions, she gathers from Teddy’s disappointed glare that the right answer is probably not complete silence.

“I think I-I’m confused.”

Teddy pauses, his ears reddening like he’s gearing up for an argument, but instead lets out a heavy sigh and nods his head. “Okay. I guess you should probably-“

“Go home and take some time to think,” Amy finishes.

“I was going to say we should talk about this, but…if that’s what you need.”

Amy looks at him apologetically and presses a quick peck to his cheek before standing to gather her things.

“I’ll call you on the weekend,” she calls out to him before shutting his front door behind her, scurrying downstairs and to the nearest bodega to buy a pack of cigarettes.

-

The next three months bring longer days and warmer weather to New York. Summer means the precinct is at a more acceptable temperature for Amy’s eternally-cold skin, it means the majority of her colleagues are cashing in their time off and she has more casework to keep herself busy, and this year it means long nights hiding at work to avoid her boyfriend who is still, somehow, her boyfriend despite her weeks of confusion and claiming she felt they were “out of sync.”

Really, the confusion is far from resolved. It definitely won’t be until Jake is back and she can at least speak to him about everything, but it’s become increasingly unclear when that will be as the three-month park passes and they still have little to no information on the status of his case.

It’s a particularly hot June afternoon, shortly before the end of her shift and the beginning of the weekend. She’s heading to New Jersey tomorrow morning (it’s no coincidence that she’s visiting her parents so much more frequently these past few months - Jersey is a Teddy-free zone, and therefore a hard-to-answer-question-free zone) and wrapping up the last of a string of open-and-shut B&Es.

Her head jolts up from her desk when she hears the sound of the captain exiting his office, the familiar clacking of his shoes on the tile floor a sound that she’s taught herself to respond to with alertness.

“Jeffords, Santiago, Boyle and Diaz, can I see you all for a moment?”

She’s up at her feet in an instant, the first to enter the captain’s office as the others follow behind her. Rosa’s the last to walk in, and Holt closes the door immediately behind her.

“What’s going on, sir?” Terry asks, crossing his arms.

“A friend of mine at the FBI has given me some insight into Peralta’s case that I felt I should share with all of you,” Holt explains, moving to stand behind his desk.

She can’t gage from his expression whether the news is that he’s coming home or that he’s dead or something else entirely, but her knees go weak nonetheless and she grabs onto the back of a chair as subtilely as possible.

“What is it?” Charles asks quickly with wide eyes. “Is Jake okay?”

“He’s alive,” Holt says quickly, and Amy’s world stops spinning long enough that she’s able to nod in understanding and stand a little straighter. “The case is going well, and there is a chance that they’re getting close to being able to set up a sting. Unfortunately, the closer that Peralta gets to the Ianucci family, the more their enemies become his. He hasn’t sustained any major injuries, but the danger of the case has grown exponentially…”

Amy watches Holt’s lips move for another minute or two, but the rest of the words fade out into a dull humming sound in her ears. She wants to collapse to the floor or run to the bathroom and throw up, but her feet are glued to the floor.

“Santiago, are you alright?”

It’s not the first time the voice of her commanding officer is the only thing to snap her out of a heavy trance. She looks up at Holt and realizes that he’s done his spiel and his eyes, along with everyone else in the room’s, are fixed on her.

“I’m fine, sir,” she says, supporting her statement with a contender for the most obviously fake smile in history. “I’m sorry, will you excuse me? I think I’m getting a-a call-“

With a small nod of approval from Captain Holt, she’s pushing past Rosa towards the exit and running to the roof. She needs air. She needs nicotine. She needs, and this one is by far the most pressing, to see Jake Peralta healthy and alive.

-

A dark corner at Shaw’s and several bottles of beer, Amy quickly realizes, is the best and only available antidote for the day she’s had. No Teddy, no smalltalk with coworkers, nothing but the numbing effect of the alcohol on her tired brain.

She hasn’t spent much time here over the past few months. It turns out there are a lot of places that feel just a little bit wrong without Jake around. Some are unavoidable - work, for instance, and the little deli across the street that they both love. Others, she avoids at all cost - the bar, his neighbourhood, that one apartment building on Barton Street where they conducted a stakeout many months ago on the worst (yet somehow, best) date of her life.

“What’s up with you?”

She looks up from anxiously picking at the wrapper of her bottle at her fellow detective and - sometimes, Amy thinks - friend.

“Oh, hey Rosa,” Amy says quickly, already raising her guard. “Um, nothing’s up with me. What’s up with you?”

She sighs as Rosa gives her the look that she knows by now to mean that she is not having any of her bullshit and subsequently slides into the seat across from her.

“Fine,” Amy mumbles after a few moments of Rosa’s hard stare. She’s a little drunk and feeling a lot of emotions, so she settles on the one that’s the easiest to express right now - anger. “I’m mad at him.”

Rosa narrows her eyes. “Teddy?”

Amy shakes her head incredulously. She supposes it’s the natural assumption, him being her boyfriend and all, but she’s never mad at Teddy. He doesn’t do anything wrong. Even if he did, she doubts he could ever make her feel as mad as she does right now.

“Peralta,” Amy clarifies, not helping the look of confusion on Rosa’s face. “He’s…the worst. I’m pissed at him.”

“For what? He’s been gone for months.”

Amy laughs, taking a long swig of her beer until its contents are completely drained. She imagines she looks like a crazy person as she slams the bottle on the table and continues laughing.

“That’s the problem, Diaz. He left for months, right after he-” She hiccups from the recent chugging of her beverage. “He told me he likes me. Like, likes me likes me. For realz, romantic-stylez, likes me. Jake Peralta.”

Rosa eyebrows raise a little bit, but there is no gasp of shock that follows Amy’s confession. After a moment, she simply nods.

“Hold up,” Amy mumbles, her hands gripping the table as she begins to feel slightly dizzy. “Did you know? Did he tell you?”

“No, Jake and I don’t talk about that crap,” Rosa asserts quickly. “But…I suspected it for a while. I think everyone kinda did.”

Amy lets out a sigh of exasperation, suddenly feeling like the worst detective on Earth. Has he really liked her for a while? Potentially before she embarked on her current relationship, satisfactory yet completely dull in comparison to the excitement of bickering with Jake while on a case?

“He just left and now he could get hurt or-or die and he didn’t even give me the chance to respond,” she whines, burying her face in her hands as her hair falls like a curtain around her head. “What a complete ass.”

“So you like him back, huh?”

Amy hurriedly brushes the hair out of her face to look the other woman in the eye.

“I never said that,” she snaps, once again reverting to the defensive. “I-he’s Jake, I wouldn’t-I mean, maybe, but I’m still with Teddy and I’m just confused, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I just don’t want him to die. That doesn’t mean I like him.”

“Okay.”

“It would be nice to get the chance to figure it out, though. With him here.”

“I know.”

“And…I don’t want to lose him.”

Rosa’s eyes soften a little this time, though her tone remains steady: “You won’t.”

Amy holds her coworker’s - no, they’re definitely friends - gaze, nodding slowly. Rosa’s right about pretty much everything. She hopes this is no exception.

“I need another drink.”

“I don’t think so, Santiago,” Rosa stands and blocks her path back to the bar. “C’mon, I’ll take you home. I haven’t had anything to drink yet.”

A few minutes later, in the passenger seat of Rosa’s car, Amy opens her eyes for the first time since they left the Shaw’s parking lot and turns her head to face Rosa as she focuses on driving.

“Do you think me and Jake - uh, romantic-stylez - would be bad idea?”

Rosa pauses and glances over briefly. “I don’t think you’re gonna remember this tomorrow.”

Amy just curls in on herself and gives into her drunken desire to zone out and stare out the window at the passing city lights.

“But no,” Rosa mutters faintly just before Amy passes out. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

-

Amy doesn’t get much warning that he’s coming back. There’s been whispers among their detective squad, but no real confirmation that this would be unlike the many other times they were close to a sting but couldn’t quite pull it off.

She has the weekend off, and Sunday evening she gets a text from Rosa:

Jake’s back. They got most of the Ianuccis yesterday - busted at a family wedding. He’ll be at work tomorrow.

She’s beyond grateful for the heads up, because she has at least twelve hours to compose herself before she’s face-to-face with him for the first time in six months..

On one hand, she’s entirely unprepared to see him. On the other, she’s tempted to drive to his apartment right now and kiss him harder than she’s ever kissed anyone.

The more rational part of Amy, the part that is still in a relationship with a reasonable man for a woman approaching her thirties to be dating, wins this one.

She barely sleeps the night before he returns, her mind drafting a dozen options for what she may say to him when they reunite. Some are more dramatic or cliche than others, many would morally require her to break up with Teddy first. All of them end with some acknowledgement of her feelings, but none end up leaving her mouth when the time comes.

They’re in the evidence lockup, alone in a room together for the first time in so long - it felt like an eternity for her, at least - and she just can’t say it. Not like this, not now, not yet.

“I’m still with Teddy. Romantic-stylez.”

The hurt, slightly surprised look on Jake’s face - which she has been subconsciously re-memorizing since the moment he stepped off the elevator - makes her regret the choice instantly, but the real sweeping blow to her heart comes when he takes back his confession a moment later.

Later that day - somewhere between the clinking of glasses, Jake respectfully informing her that he does indeed still have feelings for her but understands that she’s still with Teddy, and a quiet walk alone to the subway after she decides she needs some air - Amy back to square one in terms of the confusion as to where her heart lies.

She arrives at Teddy’s at their agreed upon time and lets herself in, taking her boots off and placing them in the orderly line of his shoes on the rack by the door.

“In the kitchen, Amy!”

The sight before her in his large, well-lit kitchen with marble countertops is nothing new. She can estimate immediately that he’s about halfway through his Pilsner-brewing process, which he’s recently become quite obsessed with. Simply through frequent observation, she’s pretty sure she could make Pilsners in her sleep at this point.

“How was work today?” Teddy asks without looking up from the stove. “I heard Peralta’s back from his big, fancy FBI operation.”

The ignores the condescending tone and obvious jealousy, taking a seat at one of the stools and dropping her purse.

“It was fine.”

“Did you finally tell him nothing’s gonna happen between you two?”

Amy nods slowly, staring at her hands in her lap, and then realizes he still isn’t facing her. “Yeah. I told him.”

Teddy adjusts the burner on the stove and turns to her with a wide smile that fades the moment they make eye contact.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, brows furrowed. “Did he give you a hard time? If he’s being a jerk-“

“No.” God, she wishes he was a jerk. It would be so, so much easier if he was an entitled asshole. “No, he was perfectly respectful. I’m not upset, just-”

“Confused?”

Teddy repeats her choice of words from months ago - a word that is still haunting her - and she wants so badly to lie and shake her head and pretend that everything is fine and there’s nothing to be worried about. She can’t do that in good conscience, but she figures she can keep dating Teddy and see where that relationship takes her as long as she’s at least relatively honest with him.

“Yeah,” she confirms. “So, what flavour is this batch?”

She can see it in his eyes that Teddy isn’t happy with her answer, but at least she knows that she told him (part of) the truth as she sits back and listens to him talk about yeast and fermentation for the next forty minutes.

What she doesn’t admit to him, nor to herself quite yet, is that their relationship has been a ticking time bomb from the moment Jake flagged her down outside the precinct six months ago. Whether she likes it or not, it’s only a matter of time before it explodes and destroys everything in its reach.

Destruction isn’t always the worst thing, though. Not when it’s making room for something new and, if she’s lucky, something beautiful.

[brokehorrorfan]

Event Report: NorthEast Comic Con (Spring 2019)

Back in November, I spent my Thanksgiving weekend attending my first NorthEast Comic Con & Collectibles Extravaganza. Having had a blast, I was excited to return for the next semi-annual event. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait very long, as its Spring 2019 edition occurred over Saint Patrick's Day weekend. I returned to the Regency Hotel in Boxboro, Massachusetts on March 16 to experience all the celebrities, panels, comedy, concerts, vendors, and other fun it had to offer.

The afternoon kicked off with a panel featuring iconic comedian/actor Gilbert Gottfried (Aladdin). He was funny, as he naturally is, but this was not a standup set; it was an honest conversation. He discussed everything from the recent fake outrage over his not being in the new Aladin film and the controversial jokes that resulted in his being fired as the voice of the Aflac Duck, to being raised on the Universal monster movies (and questioning why the Wolf Man dressed so well if he knew he was going to transform into a werewolf) and comedy in the modern age. ("The internet makes me feel sentimental for old-time lynch mobs," he quipped.)

Prompted by audience questions, Gottfried also talked about his ad-libbing on Aladdin (during which he would occasionally have to be stopped and reminded that it was family film), working with John Ritter on Problem Child (which no one thought was going to be a hit), Howard Stern, Hollywood Squares, Wife Swap, his Amazing Colossal Podcast, and more. Never one to miss an opportunity for an off-color joke, Gottfried responded to a comment about a failed TV pilot by stating, "Buddy Holly has better luck with pilots than I do." The session was recorded for the The Boston Comedy Podcast, so you'll be able to hear it in its entirety soon.

Later in the day, I caught another panel with Nicholas Brendon of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Criminal Minds fame. With no need for a host, the animated and entertaining Brendon began by riffing on the likes of tuna casserole to cannibalism for a few minutes before launching into the entire story of how he was cast on Buffy (in which he went from production assistant on Dave's World to reluctant actor, then booked Buffy a mere two months later). He was open and honest about his past struggles, but he has turned over a new leaf and is now giving back by using his celebrity to raise awareness for mental health.

In addition to Gottfried and Brendon, the guest list included Chris Rankin (Harry Potter franchise), Gigi Edgley (Farscape), Ann Robinson (The War of the Worlds), Mark Goddard (Lost in Space), Clayton Prince (Hairspray), animation producer Jeff Kline (Transformers Prime), Emmy Award-winning puppeteer Bill Diamond (Little Shop of Horrors), author and Squirrel Girl co-creator Will Murray, Disney comics writer Joe Caramagna (Duck Tales, Frozen), cartoonist Guy Gilchrist (The Muppets), and paranormal investigator Kadrolsha Ona Carole, among others.

NorthEast Comic Con's standup battle royal proved to be a fun way to spend any down time. Local and budding comedians had the opportunity to sign up and perform seven minutes of material for a chance to win $100 a day and compete for the $500 weekend prize. The competition was judged entirely by audience applause, and Phil Anthony ultimately took home the grand prize. It was apparent that some of the competitors didn't have much stage experience, with bits that weren't fully realized or comedic timing that needed work, but the audience was receptive and ready to laugh.

Comedian Roger Kabler has been impersonating Robin Williams for many years, which earned him a finalist spot on the ABC celebrity impersonator reality competition The Next Best Thing in 2007. Following Williams' death, Kabler decided to utilize his talents and pay tribute to Williams with a film called Being Robin. A brief portion of the movie was shot at the convention, and attendees were allowed to participate as audience members as Kabler performed a portion of his Williams act. Not only does he have the voice and look down, but Kabler also nails Williams' idiosyncratic mannerisms. The film is currently seeking funding; I’m looking forward to seeing the final product after witnessing a small portion in the making.

An unexpected highlight of the previous NorthEast Comic Con was seeing Gwell-o, a Gwar-inspired metal band featuring members of the comedy rock act Green Jelly dressed as intergalactic monsters in homemade, cardboard and duct tape costumes. They performed as part of the Saturday night after party this time around, and I couldn't miss it. A new layout to the stage allowed all nine members of the band to fit up there. The lineup features four people who sing backups and perform combat theatrics during the show, while the other five musicians perform a mix of originals and covers, including Gwar's "I Hate Love Song" and "Sick of You," Green Jelly's "Three Little Pigs," Judas Priest’s “Night Crawler," and “I Need Mo’ Allowance” from the cartoon Doug.

Proudly hailing for Ipswich, Massachusetts, The Fools headlined the after party. At first glance, they seem like a rock act in the vein of The Rolling Stones or Van Halen. Upon a closer listen to vocalist Mike Girard's lyrics, however, it becomes apparent that they are satirizing the classic rock acts of yesteryear as much as they are paying tribute to them. That's not to say they don't take themselves seriously; the quintet makes their tight live show appear effortless.

Along with the celebrities, panels, standup comedy, and live concerts, NorthEast Comic Con offered cosplay contests, gaming, kids activities, and more, not to mention dozens of exhibitors and vendors. Many attendees came in costume, ranging from pop culture giants to comic book characters to original creations. For my money, two people dressed in large, elaborate Kang and Kodos costumes from The Simpsons were the most impressive.

A NorthEast Comic Con employee mentioned to me that this was the convention's biggest turnout at the Boxboro location yet. While it's wonderful to see the event grow with bustling crowds of enthusiastic fans, I revel in the fact that NorthEast Comic Con & Collectibles Extravaganza remains an intimate experience in comparison to the massive pop culture expos, which can be overwhelming and impresonal. On top of that, the show continues to keep its prices low and value high.

Click here to see all of my NorthEast Comic Con Spring 2019 photos.

[twig---verginix]

8 people I’d like to get to know better

I was tagged by @2outherngemiinii!

ONE / name / alias - fun fact, I didn’t initially intend to make Emerson my name- didn’t really plan on changing my name at all. My birthname’s Emmalene- a made-up variation of Emma, pretty-sounding enough. I don’t mind it at all, really, it’s a good name. I picked Emerson for a creative writing assignment where I wrote the max five pages without picking a name or a gender for my first-person narrator (which wasn’t the assignment, by the way. I just figured out Literally Everything But That for no damn reason and just put brackets where a name should be). So when I’m getting ready to turn this thing in I go “oh Fuck” and search “gender neutral names” and figured, shit, that name doesn’t sound horribly out of place. sure. 

And then LATER like, maybe weeks, who knows, I had downloaded and was trying to play Pokémon Uranium (trying, regrettably, as lag during battles made it practically unplayable on a Mac, oops). Pokémon Uranium, if you’re unaware, is a fanmade Pokémon game that offers three different trainers to choose from- a boy, a girl, and a nonbinary trainer. And for whatever reason, I dunno, it just felt right to type in Emerson. And then came the “oh, duh” moment.

TWO / birthday - May 27! Memorial Day weekend baby

THREE / zodiac sign - Gemini 

FOUR / height - like, 5′7? I think?

FIVE / hobbies - Playing video games, reading, uhh I’ve taken to memorizing poetry for no good reason at all. Oh and writing and drawing sometimes.

SIX / favorite colors - Yellows and oranges and greens.

SEVEN / favorite books - A Series of Unfortunate Events is wonderful, I just finished a book called The Clockwork Three that made me cry and also had an automaton, which is always a plus, I’ve loved Avalon: Web of Magic since I was eight, and uhhh The Way to Satin Shore kicked my ASS. 

EIGHT / last song i listened to - “Dead Ends” by Radical Face.

NINE / last film i watched - I got to see the Child’s Play remake in the theater, which was really cool. I’m not a huge fan of gory horror, but this one was modernized really well. Like, it integrated modern insecurities about technological security into an Ooh Scary Murder Doll movie. It was cool.

TEN / inspiration for muse - I’m not super sure how to answer this one but I’m going to say clouds.

ELEVEN / dream job - Pokémon trainer.

TWELVE / meaning behind your url - Oh geez I forgot about The Edge Chronicles!!!! Okay well that’s one of my favorites too. Twig is a kid who was raised in a Big Ass Forest where APPARENTLY if you CHEAT AT SPORTS your village KICKS YOU OUT so it’s just like real life, actually. So then he wanders around the aforementioned BAF for approximately one novel’s length of time having, just, a grand old time almost being eaten by the local flora, performing dentistry on the local fauna, following the demon his grandfather resurrected and unleashed upon the world off a cliff, yknow. classic bildungsroman. ANYWAY he eventually becomes a sky pirate, which is exactly what you think it is, big fucking classic pirate ships floating through the air because of floaty rocks and it’s awesome. He does Other things also but the point is, he ties his hair in little knots all around his head and he named himself Twig and he’s the best. Mr. Steward and Mr. Riddell if you’re out there I’m a fan of your work.

@typicaltendencies @brit-no @halliepenopop @jeremytheblack @marktwainslegsweregoats @kaijubaku @sagiun and @1990scandy- if you want to, go for it!

[marvelmission]

Christopher McQuarrie speaking about Tom Cruise breaking his ankle.

Note: This is a very long post and I would like to apologise for all the punctuation and grammar errors. This is taken from the podcast McQ had with Jeff Goldsmith which can be found here https://backstory.net/q-and-a-with-jeff-goldsmith/ Unfortunately there is no direct web link to the podcast so you will have to find it by clicking on the menu button and then scrolling through the episode list. Also, small spoiler alert so If you haven’t seen the film don't read this. 

“What happened was it was day one of the foot chase and that shot that you saw he breaks his ankle he's running across the roof. It's that long cable cam shoot and the cable cam goes around him 360 degrees that's actually two shots...and as he runs behind the fuse box its a stitch to hide the fact it’s part 1 and part 2. We shot part 2 first and because that was the biggest stunt and the most complicated thing we thought get this out of the way and then how hard can the rest of it be, its Tom Cruise running. It's like falling out of bed. So, we spent most of the morning dialling the stunt in and the really complicated part was dialling the camera move in. We didn't think the stunt was all that complicated. So, we had a stuntman doing the jump over and over again to save Tom the pain and we got the camera move right. Tom came out jumped once - bounced off the wall. The wall is padded and Tom is wearing a chest pad so he just ricocheted off the wall. Did a second time - bounced off the wall, and then on the third try he just decided to extend his foot a little bit to slow the impact down so that he could grab on which he did successfully...but his ankle went like that. 

It's actually two frames in the shot where you can see it and the ankle goes from a human foot to a...piece of rigatoni back to a human foot. And Tom hit it. He pounded into the wall and I'm watching four different cameras follow this, including the one that’s looking at his face and he hit the fall and he just does that thing you see in the movie and of course all of us who are watching the monitors there's a whole bunch of us standing around. Everybody was like "owhh ", but more like wow he's really selling that, he really made it look like that hurt. And we're custom to that, were custom to Tom finding moments to make Ethan look like...Tom's not afraid to look afraid, he's not afraid to have Ethan look like he's hurt. And then he starts to pull himself up and he's limping past the camera and I was like wow he's...he's continuing to sell it and I guess he's gonna shake that off in the next shot. And then we yelled cut and Tom went down. He just immediately took all his weight off the ankle and we knew there was a problem I could tell right away. So, they brought Tom back and he was in this tent. We had a little green room set up for him and I walked in and he was laying on a couch with his leg up like this and he had a bag of ice on it and I was watching his ankle physically swell while we were talking. And he said, "did we get the shot?" and I said, "yes we got it" and he said, "good because we're not coming back...it's broken" and I said, "are you sure?" and he said " yeah I'm sure. I've broken a lot of bones. It's broken" I said "okay" and he said, "I'm sorry man" I said, "there's nothing to be sorry about...erm... hey listen there's a silver lining to this we just don't know what it is yet". [...] I said this was going to be okay and I was already in my mind calculating everything that was coming in London that you saw in this movie everything with Alec Baldwin and all of that stuff that hadn't been written yet and we were shooting it three days later. And I realised ‘oh thank God I don't have to shoot any of that crap in three days’ and I realised I had the time to write it. I went into the cutting room with Eddie Hamilton and for the first week, this was the scary part. The scariest part was not when he broke his ankle. The scariest part was the seven days after he broke his ankle and the swelling was so severe that we didn't know the extent of the damage. We didn't know was tendons, ligaments, or just bone. And if it was tendons and ligaments it was surgery and we would not be having this conversation now we'd be having it sometime after Christmas. If it was a broken bone there was a chance and we had to wait that week so that was the really scary time. They told Tom it would be nine months before you run if you ever run again and there is a very good chance you will never run again which is not something you tell Tom Cruise. And Tom said "well I don't have time for that...I got to be walking again in six weeks" and the doctor was like "well you're not walking in six weeks that's not going to happen". And he [Tom] said we that's what I have to do so we need to figure out a plan by which I can be healing in that time and I need to be ambulatory in six weeks. We sat down with Jake Myers and calculated if you're not running in five months we're not making the release date and if we don't make this release date we don't know when this movie's coming out. And of course, all these release calendars are set up so you're just looking at a minefield in front of you and if you miss this date you can't just move to the next weekend or three months later...you're up against and in this day and age Marvel something, or Pixar something, or Disney something. This date [27th July] was in stone and it was not going to move. We were going to make this date. [...] Six weeks later he came back to work. He never wore a cast. There was never any surgery the ligaments were fine, the tendons were fine and six weeks later had originally been something in London, but because of the now chaotic schedule and his healing, everything had to be rearranged. So, his first day back at work was climbing Pulpit Rock in Norway. So, that helicopter shot that's pulling back and Tom turns around and starts to climb that mountain his Talus bone was shattered six weeks before and the ankle brace that they created for him didn't work and Tom's climbing that mountain with a shattered ankle for your entertainment. You can see Tom selling it when he first charges at Henry. He was conscious of the fact that over the course of the day the ankle would be hurting more so he sold it as an injury that he had during the helicopter crash that enabled him to do that.”

[classyfoxdestiny]

Education summit offers test of Boris Johnson’s ‘diplomatic muscle’ after aid cuts #ٹاپسٹوریز

New Post has been published on https://mediabox.pk/education-summit-offers-test-of-boris-johnsons-diplomatic-muscle-after-aid-cuts/

Education summit offers test of Boris Johnson’s ‘diplomatic muscle’ after aid cuts

Boris Johnson’s cuts to international aid look set to undermine his efforts to secure pledges of $5billion for education in the developing world at an international summit being chaired by the UK this week, campaigners have warned.

There are fears that the recent Commons vote to indefinitely extend the cut – from the United Nations target of 0.7 per cent to 0.5 per cent of GDP – has hit the UK’s “diplomatic muscle” said the development movement One.

The campaign’s UK advocacy head Lis Wallace told The Independent that Mr Johnson was on track to fall as much as $1bn short of the money needed to fund the Global Partnership for Education over the coming five years, putting learning for 175m boys and girls at risk.

She said that failure to hit the target at the London summit on Thursday would amount to a judgement on the UK’s decision to slice £4bn a year from its aid budget in response to the financial crisis caused by the Covid pandemic.

And she warned that, coming after a G7 summit in Cornwall which fell short of expectations, missing the target would set a bad precedent for Mr Johnson’s most high-profile foray onto the international stage this year, when he hosts the UN COP26 climate change conference in Glasgow in November.

“When a government hosts these moments there are expectations,” said Ms Wallace. “We look to them to set the bar, to step up and ask other governments to match that kind of level of ambition.

“It’s a big test of our diplomatic muscle as a country. And it’s happening in the context of the aid cuts and in the context of a parliamentary vote which makes the cuts semi-permanent. That does send a signal to other countries – at the very time that we’re asking them to step up, it looks like we’re stepping back.”

UK news in pictures

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1/50UK news in pictures

UK news in pictures

27 July 2021

A view of one of two areas now being used at a warehouse facility in Dover, Kent, for boats used by people thought to be migrants.

PA

UK news in pictures

26 July 2021

A woman is helped by Border Force officers as a group of people thought to be migrants are brought in to Dover, Kent, onboard a Border Force vessel, following a small boat incident in the Channel

PA

UK news in pictures

25 July 2021

Vehicles drive through deep water on a flooded road in Nine Elms, London

AFP/Getty

UK news in pictures

24 July 2021

Utilities workers inspect a 15x20ft sinkhole on Green Lane, Liverpool, which is suspected to have been caused by ruptured water main

PA

UK news in pictures

23 July 2021

Children interact with Mega Please Draw Freely by artist Ei Arakawa inside the Turbine Hall at the Tate Modern in London, part of UNIQLO Tate Play the gallery’s new free programme of art-inspired activities for families

PA

UK news in pictures

22 July 2021

Festivalgoers in the campsite at the Latitude festival in Henham Park, Southwold, Suffolk

PA

UK news in pictures

21 July 2021

A man walks past an artwork by Will Blood on the end of a property in Bedminster, Bristol, as the 75 murals project reaches the halfway point and various graffiti pieces are sprayed onto walls and buildings across the city over the Summer

PA

UK news in pictures

20 July 2021

People during morning prayer during Eid ul-Adha, or Festival of Sacrifice, in Southall Park, Uxbridge, London

PA

UK news in pictures

19 July 2021

Commuters, some not wearing facemasks, at Westminster Underground station, at 08:38 in London after the final legal Coronavirus restrictions were lifted in England

PA

UK news in pictures

18 July 2021

A view of spectators by the 2nd green during day four of The Open at The Royal St George’s Golf Club in Sandwich, Kent

PA

UK news in pictures

17 July 2021

Cyclists ride over the Hammersmith Bridge in London. The bridge was closed last year after cracks in it worsened during a heatwave

Getty

UK news in pictures

16 July 2021

The sun rises behind the Sefton Park Palm House, in Sefton Park, Liverpool

PA

UK news in pictures

15 July 2021

Sir Nicholas Serota watches a short film about sea monsters as he opens a £7.6 million, 360 immersive dome at Devonport’s Market Hall in Plymouth, which is the first of its type to be built in Europe

PA

UK news in pictures

14 July 2021

Heidi Street, playing a gothic character, looks at a brain suspended in glass at the world’s first attraction dedicated to the author of Frankenstein inside the ‘Mary Shelley’s House of Frankenstein’ experience, located in a Georgian terraced house in Bath, as it prepares to open to the public on 19 July

PA

UK news in pictures

13 July 2021

Rehearsals are held in a car park in Glasgow for a parade scene ahead of filming for what is thought to be the new Indiana Jones 5 movie starring Harrison Ford

PA

UK news in pictures

12 July 2021

A local resident puts love hearts and slogans on the plastic that covers offensive graffiti on the vandalised mural of Manchester United striker and England player Marcus Rashford on the wall of a cafe on Copson Street, Withington in Manchester

Getty Images

UK news in pictures

11 July 2021

England’s Bukayo Saka with manager Gareth Southgate after the match

Pool via Reuters

UK news in pictures

10 July 2021

Australia’s Ashleigh Barty holds the trophy after winning her final Wimbledon match against Czech Republic’s Karolina Pliskova

Reuters

UK news in pictures

9 July 2021

England 1966 World Cup winner Sir Geoff Hurst stands on top of a pod on the lastminute.com London Eye wearing a replica 1966 World Cup final kit and looking out towards Wembley Stadium in the north of the capital, where the England football team will play Italy in the Euro 2020 final on Sunday

PA

UK news in pictures

8 July 2021

Karolina Pliskova celebrates after defeating Aryna Sabalenka during the women’s singles semifinals match on day ten of the Wimbledon Tennis Championships in London

AP

UK news in pictures

7 July 2021

The residents of Towfield Court in Feltham have transformed their estate with England flags for the Euro 2020 tournament

PA

UK news in pictures

6 July 2021

A couple are hit by a wave as they walk along the promenade in Dover, Kent, during strong winds

PA

UK news in pictures

5 July 2021

Alexander Zverev playing against Felix Auger-Aliassime in the fourth round of the Gentlemen’s Singles on Court 1 on day seven of Wimbledon at The All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club

PA

UK news in pictures

4 July 2021

Aaron Carty and the Beyoncé Experience perform on stage during UK Black Pride at The Roundhouse in London

Getty for UK Black Pride

UK news in pictures

3 July 2021

England’s Jordan Henderson celebrates after scoring his first international goal, his side’s fourth against Ukraine during the Euro 2020 quarter final match at the Olympic stadium in Rome

AP

UK news in pictures

2 July 2021

Dan Evans serves against Sebastian Korda during their men’s singles third round match at Wimbledon

Getty

UK news in pictures

1 July 2021

Prince William, left and Prince Harry unveil a statue they commissioned of their mother Princess Diana, on what would have been her 60th birthday, in the Sunken Garden at Kensington Palace, London

AP

UK news in pictures

30 June 2021

Dancers from the Billingham Festival and Balbir Singh Dance Company, during a preview for the The Two Fridas, UK Summer tour, presented by Billingham International Folklore Festival of World Dance in collaboration with Balbir Singh Dance Company, inspired by the life and times of female artists Frida Kahlo and Amrita Sher-Gil , which opens on July 10 at Ushaw Historic House, Chapel and Gardens in Durham

PA

UK news in pictures

29 June 2021

A boy kicks a soccer ball in front of the balconies and landings adorned with predominantly England flags at the Kirby housing estate in London

AP

UK news in pictures

28 June 2021

Emergency services attend a fire nearby the Elephant & Castle Rail Station in London

Getty

UK news in pictures

27 June 2021

People walk along Regent Street in central London during a #FreedomToDance march organised by Save Our Scene, in protest against the government’s perceived disregard for the live music industry throughout the coronavirus pandemic

PA

UK news in pictures

26 June 2021

A pair of marchers in a Trans Pride rally share a smile in Soho

Angela Christofilou/The Independent

UK news in pictures

25 June 2021

Tim Duckworth during the Long Jump in the decathlon during day one of the Muller British Athletics Championships at Manchester Regional Arena

PA

UK news in pictures

24 June 2021

A member of staff poses with the work ‘The Death of Cash’ by XCopy at the ‘CryptOGs: The Pioneers of NFT Art’ auction at Bonhams auction house in London

EPA

UK news in pictures

23 June 2021

Bank of England Chief Cashier Sarah John displays the new 50-pound banknote at Daunt Books in London

Bank of England via Reuters

UK news in pictures

22 June 2021

Actor Isaac Hampstead Wright sits on the newly unveiled Game of Throne’s “Iron Throne” statue, in Leicester Square, in London, Tuesday, June 22, 2021. The statue is the tenth to join the trail and commemorates 10 years since the TV show first aired, as well as in anticipation for HBO’s release of House of the Dragon set to be released in 2022

AP

UK news in pictures

21 June 2021

Scotland’s First Minister Nicola Sturgeon receives her second dose of the Oxford/AstraZeneca Covid-19 vaccine

AFP/Getty

UK news in pictures

20 June 2021

Joyce Paton, from Peterhead, on one of the remaining snow patches on Meall a’Bhuiridh in Glencoe during the Midsummer Ski. The event, organised by the Glencoe Mountain Resort, is held every year on the weekend closest to the Summer Solstice

PA

UK news in pictures

19 June 2021

England appeal LBW during day four of their Women’s International Test match against India at the Bristol County Ground

PA

UK news in pictures

18 June 2021

Scotland fans let off flares in Leicester Square after Scotland’s Euro 2020 match against England ended in a 0-0 draw

Getty

UK news in pictures

17 June 2021

Members of the Tootsie Rollers jazz band pose on the third day of the Royal Ascot horse racing meet

AFP/Getty

UK news in pictures

16 June 2021

A woman and child examine life-size sculptures of a herd of Asian elephants set up by the Elephant Family and The Real Elephant Collective to help educate the public on the elephants and the ways in which humans can better protect the planets biodiversity, in Green Park, central London

AFP/Getty

UK news in pictures

15 June 2021

Hydrotherapists with Dixie, a seven-year-old Dachshund who is being treated for back problems common with the breed, in the hydrotherapy pool during a facility at Battersea Dogs and Cats Home’s in Battersea, London, to view their new hydrotherapy centre

PA

UK news in pictures

14 June 2021

Scotland’s David Marshall in the net after Czech Republic’s Patrik Schick scored their second goal at Hampden Park

Reuters

UK news in pictures

13 June 2021

Raheem Sterling celebrates with Harry Kane after scoring England’s first goal of the Euro 2021 tournament in a match against Croatia at Wembley

Reuters

UK news in pictures

12 June 2021

Oxfam campaigners wearing costumes depicting G7 leaders pose for photographers on Swanpool Beach near Falmouth, Cornwall

EPA

UK news in pictures

11 June 2021

Members of the Vaxinol team, who are commercial, industrial and residential cleaners specialising in disinfection and decontamination, use electrostatic spray systems to deep clean the Only Fools Bar in Liverpool

PA

UK news in pictures

10 June 2021

A woman walks her dogs as the incoming tide begins to wash away the heads of G7 leaders drawn in the sand by activists on the beach at Newquay, Cornwall

AP

UK news in pictures

9 June 2021

Adam Chamberlain, 45, general manager of Big Tree pub in Sheffield, has put up over 500 flags, taking 36 hours, in preparation for Euro 2020, which kicks off this weekend

Tom Maddick / SWNS

UK news in pictures

8 June 2021

REUTERS

Polling for One suggested that failure at an international summit would reflect badly on Mr Johnson, with 65 per cent saying that having volunteered to host the gathering, it is his personal responsibility to ensure it succeeds, against just 7 per cent who disagreed.

A majority (61 per cent) said Britain was at its best when it shows it is serious about tackling global issues and plays a leading role in tackling the world’s problems.

And more than half (54 per cent) agreed that other countries were more likely to make big commitments at a summit hosted by the UK if Britain itself sets an example.

Mr Johnson’s pledge of £430m for the Global Partnership for Education, announced at the G7 summit, fell short of the £600m sought by some civil society organisations.

It formed part of an overall promise of at least $2.75bn agreed by G7 leaders in Cornwall, also including €700m from the EU, leaving a further $2.25bn to be raised from non-G7 donors, likely to include Australia, China and Scandinavian countries.

Some 68 per cent of those questioned in the poll agreed there was a “moral obligation” on richer countries to ensure every child receives a good education, against just 9 per cent who disagreed. And 53 per cent rejected the idea that it does not matter whether children in poorer countries get a good education or not, against 23 per cent who agreed.

Ms Wallace said: “As an organisation, we were disappointed at the outcome of the G7, which did not come up with a plan to end the Covid pandemic and made commitments to share vaccines which were too little, too late. It looks like we are going to miss the mark at the global education summit, and that doesn’t bode well for COP.

“It seems that, when it comes to our diplomatic efforts, the aid cuts mean we have one hand, if not both hands, tied behind our back when we are asking others to put money in.”

But a Foreign Office spokesperson said: “The target of $5bn has always been a five-year target. At the last Global Partnership for Education replenishment summit in 2018 around 80 per cent of the funding was raised at the summit itself, with the rest coming in across the lifetime of the replenishment period.

“The UK is the largest bilateral donor to the replenishment. We have committed £430m towards the Global Partnership for Education’s replenishment ahead of the Global Education Summit in London later this week. This is our highest ever pledge, with an uplift of 15 per cent.”

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[feuillyys]

Tbh, what do you think the Les Amemes™ would do for jobs?

(i realized halfway through this that you might have meant for this to be about 100% less serious than it ended up being but)

enjolras becomes a motivational speaker, and it’s something that shocks everyone. he spent a lot of time in college unsure of what he should do that would have the most positive impact on society and on the people in his life, but it all started by accident when he was filmed going off his soapbox and getting emotional and somehow went viral. he becomes really well known for helping inspire people to overcome their temporary situations, for feeling comfortable in their own skin, for coming to terms with and accepting their gender and sexual identities even if no one else does. he gives a TEDtalk once and all his friends make memes out of it but it stays in the top ten most viewed for weeks after it airs. he finds the best way to make an impact is to inspire others to start trying, too.

grantaire is the art teacher at an elementary school. he had a little bit of success selling his own artwork but put it aside when he found out how fun it was to spend day after day with little kids. he found it wasn’t so hard to get up in the mornings when he was doing it for something he loved. (plus he invested in a really good coffee machine. like. a really good one). he loves teaching the young ones because they don’t care about balance or lines or composition, they just want to create and he misses how simple it used to be. he has an entire scrapbook at home filled with every creation he’s ever been given and when he’s feeling particularly low he pulls it out and smiles at all of them and then let’s himself paint for fun, just like them.

courfeyrac spent a lot of his years struggling to decide what he wanted to do with his life. he didn’t decide on purpose to become a teacher, but it seemed like the logical choice as soon as he filled his schedule with education classes. he’s the teacher that everyone loves, eccentric in his fashion tastes and always making the assignments crafts, but his success rate is exceptionally high and he genuinely cares about his students. he teaches them to be kind, and accepting, and helps them come to terms with their passions regardless of what they are.

combeferre becomes a pediatric surgeon. it’s hard at first, and he comes home to his apartment some days during residency and just cries for hours until his phone rings and he has to go back. but he turns out to be exceptional at it, and he turns out to be a phenomenal teacher to all the residents who come after him. kids adore him because he talks to them like regular people, he teaches them about the medicine and space and moths and Star Wars and any other interests they have, and parents love him because he’s the best there is at ensuring that their kid wakes up safe and sound.

feuilly is a social worker, specializing in children, families, and schools. he takes special care in following up on all of his cases, and he always finds the perfect family for a child to stay with. he takes on a lot of pro bono cases—god knows he can afford it with all the random jobs he takes on the weekends. he has an eery sixth sense for knowing when a fit is right or wrong, but he never closes a case unless he’s certain he leaves a family more whole than when he met them.

bahorel tried law school, he really did, but his passion laid elsewhere. as soon as he dropped out, he convinced his family to help him open a youth arts center where he devotes his time helping kids of all ages advance their skills in drawing, painting, acting, singing, dancing, all of it. the kids he sees come and go often tell him they owe their successes to him, and he cries and hangs up copies of their graduation pictures or stage productions on the wall of his office.

joly gets his medical degree and promptly decides to open up a free clinic. he raises awareness for chronic illnesses and specializes in treatments for amputees, he starts a foundation that is constantly raising money, proceeds going to his clinic so that he can continue treating people but also going to research because medicine is about progressing. he doesn’t necessarily want to be the one to do the research, he chose to work as a doctor in a clinic for a reason, but he knows it’s important.

bossuet becomes a therapist. he’s hand rounds and bouts of bad luck but it’s left him with lots of advice and lots of empathy to give. he makes sure to let each of his clients know that their choosing to come must be on their own times and he takes special care getting to know each and every individual one of them. sometimes when their eyes go tight at the mention of money, bossuet will wave them out the door at the end of the session laughing about how the credit card machine is broken, isn’t that silly, it’s just his luck—and his patients come back the next time extra grateful for him.

jehan is a writer; but the kick is they write under a pseudonym and only a few people in the world actually know. when they finished their first official work, the fame wasn’t as important as the message seemed, so they searched for a publisher who would support the pseudonym and has only told a few people outside of that what they actually do for a living. the rest of les amis assume they just work odd jobs whenever they feel like it. but jehan writes, and sells a lot of copies, and they love it endlessly.

marius is a professor of linguistics at a university. he knows so many languages and is so fiercely passionate about the way language is structured and formed and evolving—his classes almost always fill up first, and have waitlists that are pages long. the students love how interesting he finds words, many of them are entranced by the way he always sees the world through rose-colored glasses, and a lot of them are there to giggle at the way he blushes and stutters just so when someone compliments him in any way.

cosette gives music lessons out of her house. there’s literally not an instrument she can’t pick up and have mastered in five minutes, so she teaches it all. piano, guitar, harp, accordion, a didgeridoo one time, a cello, a trumpet once, singing, even dancing. she just cares about music and wants to give everyone the chance to learn. her youngest student is four years old and her oldest is eighty three, and alongside teaching them musical theory she shows them how to use music to always see joy in the world.

éponine models for a while, before she finds her groove more comfortably in designing clothes. she gets a lucky break when a successful model catches sight of one of her designs, and begs her to let him wear it on the next catwalk. when she isn’t designing clothes, she’s helping r out at the school and teaching new techniques to the elementary kids who hang off of every word she says. she’s always dressed to the nines, but unbeknownst to the majority of the fashion industry is the way she spends her free time making clothing to give to people who can’t afford it. she donates a lot of her creations to homeless shelters, and often enlists gavroche to help her find places to give out clothes.

musichetta owns a restaurant chain. it started off as just a small café hidden behind the streets of paris but got really popular for its delicious sandwiches and atmosphere. her shops are social media famous, and many people visit her now just to take aesthetic pictures of the shop and order a panini and a coffee to go. she beams with pride and her creation but still works at the original, wiping counters and greeting guests and, even occasionally, taking pictures when asked.

bonus;gavroche wants to be just like his sister when he grows up. his style in clothes is a lot different from her edgy chic vintage, but he loves how much she loves it and finds his own ways to make his clothing unique and fun.