#ken pogue

[claudia1829things]

"INTO THE WEST" (2005) - "Jacob Wheeler and the Awareness of Self"

"INTO THE WEST" (2005) – "JACOB WHEELER AND THE AWARENESS OF SELF"

Many people would usually consider the topic of Self Awareness when discussing New Age religions or Eastern mysticism. Characters from a Western television miniseries seems like the last thing anyone would think of when discussing the meaning of Self. Yet, a major character led me to consider this very topic, while re-watching Steven Spielberg’s 2005 miniseries about two families – Lakota and western Virginia - called "INTO THE WEST".

"Self" has been described as the essential self or the core of an individual. A person who has learned to live one’s life with a strong sense of Self is considered as someone who has achieved or come close to a level of self-actualization - namely, achieving personal growth through accepting the true core of oneself. If there is one character in "INTO THE WEST" who seemed to personify self-actualization, it was Thunder Heart Woman (Tonazin Carmelo and later Sheila Tousey), the Lakota woman who had married into the Wheeler family. I am not saying that Thunder Heart Woman was a person with no insecurities, personal demons or anything of the sort. But of all the major characters, she seemed to be more in tune of what and more importantly, who she was.

In the miniseries’ second episode titled, "Manifest Destiny", Thunder Heart Woman had seemed impervious to the Wheeler family's attitude toward her, during her immediate family’s short stay with her in-laws in Virginia. Even when faced with the disapproval of a German minister and fellow wagon immigrant called Preacher Hobbes (Derek de Lint), she remained impervious to his bigotry. At least according to her husband’s narrative. But this essay is not about Thunder Heart Woman. It is about one of the men in her life – the one love in her life, who managed to catch my attention. Namely one Jacob Wheeler (Matthew Settle and later John Terry).

The third of four brothers from a Virginia wheelwright family, Jacob Wheeler seemed very similar to his Lakota wife – the type of person that seemed to know his own mind. The miniseries’ first episode, ”Wheel to the Stars” revealed that Jacob’s Virginia family seemed to view him as a non-conformist . . . or oddball. He, in turn, regarded his hometown of Wheelerton, Virginia; his family and its profession with mild contempt. In short, this young Virginian was a fish out of water in 1825 America and he knew it. This would explain Jacob’s longing to see the world beyond his hometown and the eastern United States. He did not hesitate to express his enthusiasm for the West. After meeting mountain man James Fletcher (Will Patton), he immediately set out to achieve his desire to leave Wheelerton.

Possessing a talent for persuasion, Jacob managed to convince two of his brothers – Nathan (Alan Tudyk) and Jethro (Skeet Ulrich) – into joining his trek to the West. Jethro turned back at the last minute and Nathan ended up accompanying him. After Jacob and Nathan parted ways in St. Louis, the former caught up with Fletcher and famed mountain man, Jedediah Smith (Josh Brolin) and convinced the latter to allow him to accompany Smith’s expedition to California. I could probably list a number of examples of Jacob’s talent for persuasion, along with his exuberant and non-conformist nature. What I had failed to mention was that he possessed a strong and stubborn will to achieve what he desired. A perfect example of this was his determination to return to California after he, Smith and their fellow mountain men had been kicked out of the province by Mexican authorities. Not only did Jacob manage to achieve this goal, he did so at a great price. And yet . . . one of the interesting aspects of the Jacob Wheeler character is that despite possessing a strong will and extroverted nature, he also had certain vulnerable characteristics and insecurities. Especially insecurities. In both ”Wheel to the Stars” and ”Manifest Destiny”, Jacob’s relationships with his Wheelerton family and Thunder Heart Woman revealed just how insecure he could be.

Jacob seemed to have a rather peculiar relationship with his Virginia family. Despite regarding them with contempt for their provincial attitudes, he had also allowed their attitudes to bring out his own insecurities. His grandfather Abraham (Ken Pogue), his father Enoch (Serge Houde) and his three brothers – Nathan, Ezra (Joshua Kalef) and Jethro – either derided or teased him about his lack of interest in the family’s wheelwright business. And all of them viewed Jacob as a daydreamer with no sense of family duty or any common sense. The Wheelers have never hesitated to express their low opinion of Jacob’s desire to experience life beyond Wheelerton. I cannot help but wonder if the Wheelers’ contempt toward Jacob’s non-conformist ways had bred a sense of insecurity within him. Or if this insecurity was one of the reasons behind his desire to escape Wheelerton for the west.

It is possible that I may have stumbled across one result from Jacob’s less-than-ideal relationship with his Virginia family. I do not know if anyone else had noticed, but it seemed to me that whenever any of the other Wheelers teased, ranted or expressed contempt toward Jacob or his views on the West, he rarely bothered to defend himself. Jacob did not defend himself whenever his brothers mocked him at the dinner table.; when Jethro made the "tail tucked between your legs" comment, following Jacob’s return to Wheelerton in "Manifest Destiny"; and when Enoch accused him of luring both Nathan and later, Jacob to the West. Instead of defending himself, Jacob merely remained silent in an effort to ignore the hurtful comments.

However, there have also been moments when he did defend himself. Jacob made a snarky comment about his grandfather Abraham’s penchant for rambling on about his past as Revolutionary War veteran and the family’s business. And the elderly man reacted in such a vitriolic manner that I found myself wondering if Jacob had ended up with a new hole in his backside. When Nathan raged against him for helping an escaped slave named Ben Franklin (Sean Blakemore) in Tennessee, Jacob insisted they had done the right thing considering that Ben had earlier released Nathan after holding him hostage with a knife. And when Nathan lost his temper over Jacob’s refusal to follow him to Texas, the younger brother merely insisted upon continuing his intention to join Jedidiah Smith’s expedition.

One could only wonder why Jacob had rarely bothered to defend himself against his family’s scorn. Did he share Thunder Heart Woman’s talent for imperviously ignoring the scorn and prejudices of others? I rather doubt it. Whereas Thunder Heart Woman had seemed unconcerned by others, Jacob’s face tends to express his pain or embarrassment caused by his family’s attitudes. I suspect that deep down, Jacob longed for not only his family’s respect, but their acceptance of his true self. But unlike many people, he was not willing to change his nature for the Wheelers or anyone else’s acceptance.

Why did Jacob decide to return to Wheelerton with his pregnant wife and daughter after eleven years in the West? In his narration, Jacob claimed that he wanted Thunder Heart Woman and his daughter Margaret Light Shines (Elizabeth Sage, later Irene Bedard) to meet his Virginia family. Perhaps he was telling the truth. Yet, a part of me found that hard to believe. The moment Jacob began to enjoy his Lakota in-laws’ hospitality, he felt certain that his own family extend the same kind of warmth to his wife. And yet . . . he had insisted upon returning to Virginia. Why? Had Jethro hinted the truth in his "tail tuckered between his legs" comment – that Jacob encountered nothing but failure in the West and returned back to Virginia for a livelihood? Or was it something deeper? Perhaps a last chance for Jacob to seek final acceptance from his family? Who knows.

Whatever Jacob had sought in 1836 Virginia, he did not find it. His father Enoch revealed that the family’s wheelwright business had suffered a setback, due to the economic depression that struck the United States in the mid and late 1830s. And the Wheelers seemed no more closer in accepting Jacob for himself or his Western family. His cousin, Naomi Wheeler (Keri Russell) viewed Indians as non-human. His brother Ezra regarded Thunder Heart Woman as a mere "squaw". Naomi’s sister, Rachel (Jessica Capshaw), viewed young Margaret’s hand as a piece of dung. And Enoch seemed to act as if his new daughter-in-law and grandchildren did not exist. No wonder Jacob ended up complaining about the Wheelers’ treatment of his Lakota family.

Eventually, Jacob decided to take his wife and children and return to the West permanently – preferably Californa. It seemed the Wheelers’ continuing disregard toward them – along with news of his idol Jedediah Smith’s death – led to this decision. He almost seemed cold and distant toward his parents and Ezra. But he did not count on Jethro and his three female cousins’ decision to accompany him to California. Apparently, not all of the Wheelers viewed him as an oddball for his preference for the West. Jacob seemed heartened by Jethro’s decision to join him. And although Naomi, Rachel and Leah’s (Emily Holmes) decision to join the trek West took him by surprise, Jacob readily accepted their company. In the following narration, he came to this conclusion:

"I hope that I would prove equal to the responsibility I had undertaken."

I found this comment rather odd. Jethro and the three cousins had been determined to follow Jacob and Thunder Heart Woman on the trek to California, regardless of anything the couple would have done or said. Even Jethro had later pointed this out.

The next three years (1837-1840) must have been the best Jacob had ever experienced with any of the Virginia Wheelers. The three cousins – Naomi, Rachel and Leah – finally began to view Thunder Heart Woman as a member of the family and cherished her and Jacob’s three children (Abraham had been born in Wheelerton in 1836 and Jacob Jr. was born in Missouri sometime in late 1840). Jacob’s close relationship with Jethro seemed like a far cry from the conflicts with Nathan that marred his trip to the west back in the 1820s. One would begin to think that Jacob no longer suffered from any insecurity by this point. And yet . . . they only remained buried inside him, waiting for the right moment to manifest.

In the end, it took the wagon train journey to California (dubbed "the Wagon Train of Doom" by me) featured in "Manifest Destiny" for Jacob’s insecurities to get the best of him. Upon their arrival in Independence, Missouri in the fall of 1840, the Wheeler family remained there during the winter before joining a California-bound wagon train led by one Stephen Hoxie (Beau Bridges) in the spring of 1841. Surprisingly, only Thunder Heart Woman seemed reluctant to leave Missouri. I suspect she had enough of being constantly on the move for the past several years. But the rest of the Wheelers, especially Jacob, seemed determined to head for California.

Once the Hoxie wagon company began their westward trek, everything seemed to be faring well. The weather seemed beautiful. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits – including the black family from Illinois named Jones that managed to join the wagon train without any opposition. Both Naomi and Rachel attracted the romantic attention of the train’s two scouts – 'Skate' Guthrie and James ‘Jim’ Ebbets (Ryan Robbins and Christopher Heyerdahl). This contentment finally ended when Thunder Heart Woman spotted wolves feeding off the corpse of a buffalo and when the train later crossed what I believe was the Big Blue River. The incident proved to be the first of two disagreements between the couple. Thunder Heart Woman viewed the wolves as a sign that the wagon train would come to a bad end. She insisted that the Wheeler family return to Missouri. Jacob dismissed her worries as superstition on her part. But the expression on his face clearly indicated his doubts on the wisdom of the trip.

Then the first disaster struck. One of the emigrants, a German-born minister named Preacher Hobbes (Derek de Lint), lost control of his wagon during the crossing. Distracted by the Hobbes family’s situation, Jethro nearly lost control of his wagon. Leah fell out of the wagon and drowned in the river’s fast flowing water. Although Hobbes received an angry response for his carelessness from Captain Hoxie, the Wheeler women’s anger seemed to be directed at Jacob for leading them to this western trek. The expression of guilt seemed very palpable on Jacob’s face, as Naomi demanded that he take the family back to Missouri. Leah’s death proved to be just the beginning.

The further west the wagon train traveled, more disasters followed. The emigrants were forced to deal with a severe thunderstorm and a cattle stampede that left the only son of a black emigrant named Absalom Jones (Neville Edwards) dead. Not long after the storm and the stampede, both Naomi and Rachel married two of the wagon train’s scouts, Skate and Jim. But that brief period of happiness failed to last when the wagon train attempted to travel through a pass. While traversing a pass, a wagon broke free, knocked Rachel down and ran over her leg, causing a severe compound fracture. The leg eventually became infected. Hobbes, the closest thing to a doctor available, tried to amputate Rachel's leg; but his efforts turned out to be clumsy and Rachel died before he could finish. Although no family member angrily demanded that return to Missouri, the expression on Jacob’s face obviously conveyed his feelings of guilt.

The final blow to Jacob’s disastrous return to the west occurred when Mrs. Jones died from cholera. Since the Wheelers’ wagons had been traveling with the Jones’ wagon at the back of the train, they had been exposed to the disease. Hoxie and the scouts forced the Wheelers and the remaining members of the Jones family (Mr. Jones and Sally Jones) to remain behind under quarantine while the main body of the wagon train carries on. Only Naomi was able to continue with the train, since she had been with her new husband. Jethro became afflicted with symptoms of cholera but recovered. Both Jacob and Thunder Heart Woman drifted into a serious quarrel, when he suggested that she take their children and attempt to find her Lakota family. Needless to say, Thunder Heart Woman took the suggestion badly and reminded Jacob that he should have listened to her warnings about the journey.

No new outbreaks occurred after Jacob ordered that all drinking water be boiled. The Wheelers and the Jones rushed to catch up with the wagon train, but discovered that it had been attacked by Cheyenne warriors. All of the emigrants had been wiped out, aside from Naomi, who first became a captive and later, a wife of a Cheyenne chief Prairie Fire (Jay Tavare). The Wheelers and the Jones families were also attacked by Cheyenne warriors. They managed to repulse the attack, but Jacob ended up seriously wounded by an arrow in his chest. The surviving emigrants tried to move on with a wounded Jacob, but the juts and bumps of the trail made it impossible for him to endure the pain. Instead, he insisted that Thunder Heart Woman, Jethro, Mr. Jones and the children continue west to California without him, since he would only prevent them from crossing the Sierra Nevada Mountains before winter. They left him behind with great reluctance.

Thanks to a fortuitous encounter with one of his brothers-in-law, Running Fox (Zahn McClarnon), Jacob survived his wound before continuing west. The period he spent east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains allowed him to wallow in loneliness and grief over the separation from his family. But he remained determined to find them. And it took him another four to five years before he finally did. Becoming a member of John Charles Frémont’s California Volunteer Militia during the Mexican-American War allowed Jacob to scour the region for signs or news of his remaining family. Five years passed before he finally came upon the ranch that Jethro and Thunder Heart Woman had settled. Jacob also discovered that in the intervening years, his brother and wife had considered him dead, began a relationship and had a child – a little girl named Cornflower. Devastated by this turn of events, Jacob decided not to reveal himself to his family. At least not openly. Instead, he left the wooden medicine wheel necklace that Thunder Heart Woman had given him when they first met to his youngest child, Jacob High Cloud. Another five years passed before Jacob finally reconciled with his family, due to the efforts of his daughter, Margaret Light Shines.

Ever since I first saw "INTO THE WEST" and especially the above mentioned scene from "Manifest Destiny", I have found myself wondering about Jacob’s actions. I understood why he decided not to intrude upon the family that Jethro and Thunder Heart Woman had formed upon their arrival in California. But why did he leave the medicine wheel necklace to young Jacob? Surely, he knew that his family would be aware that he was alive . . . and knew about their situation? Looking back on his action, it struck me as a very passive-aggressive on his part. He lacked the courage to face Jethro and Thunder Heart Woman. And yet, he seemed determined to thwart the happiness they had created . . . as if he was punishing them for continuing their lives without him. Or perhaps Jacob felt a great deal of envy toward Jethro because the latter turned out to be the one who successfully led the family to California, and not him.

Perhaps Jacob had always a passively-aggressive personality from the beginning. His relationship with his Virginia family struck me as being marked by a great deal of passive-aggressive behavior from the start. Jacob seemed determined to be his own man, whether in his enthusiasm for the West, his decision to leave Wheeler or join Jedediah Smith’s expedition over following his brother Nathan to Texas. And yet . . . he never defended himself in the face of their criticism. Instead, he resorted to resentful silence. Why did he constantly fail to defend himself? Was he merely trying to keep the peace? Or did some small part of him fear that his family may have been right about him? It seemed strange than many fans and critics of "INTO THE WEST" seemed to adore Jacob for his seemingly self-assurance and outgoing personality. At the same time, they derided Jethro for being an insecure loser in their eyes. I got the feeling that they were so busy either scorning Jethro or adulating Jacob that they failed to detect the latter’s personal insecurities and darker traits. And Jacob certainly had them by the bucketful.

Did Jacob ever overcome his insecurities? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I wonder if many are aware of this, but it usually takes an individual to overcome his or her faults during an entire lifetime. A good number of people never succeed in overcoming all of their faults. And since "INTO THE WEST" focused more on his and Thunder Heart Woman’s children in the last three episodes, audiences never discovered if he had overcome all of his faults and insecurities. Jacob certainly seemed more at peace in his old age than he did during his first forty years. Perhaps those years of solitude near the Sierra Mountains foothills helped him finally achieve some inner peace.

[addictivecontradiction]

The dead zone, 1983

[drewsandsebastianswife]

There are literally so many amazing and incredible stories on here but these are some of my favorite ones out there. I am literally in love with all of these and the writers of these incredible stories.

Rafe Cameron:

•you’re losing me: https://www.tumblr.com/runningfrom2am/719053666095595520/youre-losing-me-rc - @runningfrom2am

•Favorite Girl: https://www.tumblr.com/hotchsstuff/716329959750352896/favorite-girl-rafe-cameron - @hotchsstuff

•Daddy’s Money: https://www.tumblr.com/simpforboys/711179785199599616/daddys-money - @simpforboys

•Let’s have a good time: https://www.tumblr.com/cosmicmunsonwrites/724489956660215808/reader-gets-super-drunk-with-the-pogues-so-they - @cosmicmunsonwrites

Drew Starkey:

•“Petah…the horse is here”: https://www.tumblr.com/r66dus/733919510365700096/heyyy-lovely-iw-as-wondering-if-you-could-write - @r66dus

•The Puppy Interview: https://www.tumblr.com/r66dus/710183321911574528/the-puppy-interview - @r66dus

•The “Outer Banks” Cast Reads Thirst tweets: https://www.tumblr.com/r66dus/710806681295159296/omg-the-new-interview-of-reading-thirst-tweets-you - @r66dus

•He’s just Ken but he does it so well: https://www.tumblr.com/r66dus/734553710688174080/could-u-pls-do-drew-x-femreader-where-she-gets - @r66dus

Bucky Barnes:

•A Friend of Yours (series): https://www.tumblr.com/duuhrayliegh/657377608473919488/a-friend-of-yours - @duuhrayliegh

•Personal Pillow: https://www.tumblr.com/mrsbarnesblog/732081137629921280/personal-pillow - @mrsbarnesblog

•My Everything: https://www.tumblr.com/mrsbarnesblog/732264733481304064/my-everything - @mrsbarnesblog

Regulus Black:

•Second Son (series): https://www.tumblr.com/cherryslyce/712258161504108544/second-son-navigation - @cherryslyce

•Grudges: https://www.tumblr.com/petitemistletoe/720060966287638528/grudges - @petitemistletoe

•Grudges (part2): https://www.tumblr.com/petitemistletoe/721600346887208960/grudges-part-ii - @petitemistletoe

•to the moon and back: https://www.tumblr.com/lixzey/732308498806865920/to-the-moon-and-back - @lixzey

•Troublemakers: https://www.tumblr.com/mrsmikaelsxn/714984248955830272/troublemakers - @mrsmikaelsxn

• Monster Among Men: https://www.tumblr.com/lixzey/731884519292076032/monster-among-men - @lixzey

•My Cat in Disguise: https://www.tumblr.com/unabashednightmarepizza/724659775882821632/%F0%9D%91%80%F0%9D%91%A6-%F0%9D%90%B6%F0%9D%91%8E%F0%9D%91%A1-%F0%9D%90%BC%F0%9D%91%9B-%F0%9D%90%B7%F0%9D%91%96%F0%9D%91%A0%F0%9D%91%94%F0%9D%91%A2%F0%9D%91%96%F0%9D%91%A0%F0%9D%91%92 - @unabashednightmarepizza

•What side are you on?: https://www.tumblr.com/lustsickforyou/714730201963266048/what-side-are-you-on-sirius-black-x-reader - @lustsickforyou

•A snake and his little bird: https://www.tumblr.com/robynlilyblack/691307004956917760/a-snake-and-his-little-bird - @robynlilyblack

Timothée Chalamet:

•Letters (series): https://www.tumblr.com/lixzey/728997852322430976/letters-one-day-timoth%C3%A9e-receives-a-package-from - @lixzey

•forever yours.: https://www.tumblr.com/lixzey/733344558600028160/forever-yours - @lixzey

•mine, forever mine: https://www.tumblr.com/lixzey/733503682243706880/mine-forever-mine - @lixzey

Remus Lupin:

•seven minutes to forever: https://www.tumblr.com/lixzey/735140166433488896/hey-maybe-you-could-write-remus-lupin-x-fem - @lixzey

•Jealous Remus: https://www.tumblr.com/xxhispieceofheavenxx/708728354571993088/can-i-pls-request-remus-being-jealous-and - @xxhispieceofheavenxx

•sour wolf: https://www.tumblr.com/shiftermia/728286378678484992/sour-wolf - @shiftermia

•when was the last time you slept?: https://www.tumblr.com/girasollake/726673918069473280/could-you-possibly-do-the-one-bed-trope-with - @girasollake

•You’re Losing Me (series): https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/718987676510978048/%F0%9D%98%A0%F0%9D%98%B0%F0%9D%98%B6%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%A6-%F0%9D%98%93%F0%9D%98%B0%F0%9D%98%B4%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AF%F0%9D%98%A8-%F0%9D%98%94%F0%9D%98%A6 - @astonishment

•At Arms Length: https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/729767772079407104/%F0%9D%98%88%F0%9D%98%B5-%F0%9D%98%88%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%AE%F0%9D%98%B4-%F0%9D%98%93%F0%9D%98%A6%F0%9D%98%AF%F0%9D%98%A8%F0%9D%98%B5%F0%9D%98%A9 - @astonishment

•professor, professor: https://www.tumblr.com/lixzey/732668122404978688/professor-professor - @lixzey

•”She’s My Wife”: https://www.tumblr.com/kquil/731747952363716608/remus-lupin-2359-shes-my-wife-sum-you - @kquil

I literally have to thank @astonishment for bringing me into the marauders fandom. I LOVE Harry Potter but Mal made me fall in love with James and Remus with her incredible writing!! I literally read all her works in less than a week🫢🫣😂

James Potter:

•Time Warp: https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/693982145556955136/%F0%9D%98%9B%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AE%F0%9D%98%A6-%F0%9D%98%9E%F0%9D%98%A2%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%B1 - @astonishment

•Why Did She Say Yes?: https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/697329877925380096/%F0%9D%96%B6%F0%9D%97%81%F0%9D%97%92-%F0%9D%96%A3%F0%9D%97%82%F0%9D%96%BD-%F0%9D%96%B2%F0%9D%97%81%F0%9D%96%BE-%F0%9D%96%B2%F0%9D%96%BA%F0%9D%97%92-%F0%9D%96%B8%F0%9D%96%BE%F0%9D%97%8C - @astonishment

•Darling, Dearest, Dead: https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/698958021732204544/%F0%9D%98%8B%F0%9D%98%A2%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%AD%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AF%F0%9D%98%A8-%F0%9D%98%8B%F0%9D%98%A6%F0%9D%98%A2%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%A6%F0%9D%98%B4%F0%9D%98%B5-%F0%9D%98%8B%F0%9D%98%A6%F0%9D%98%A2%F0%9D%98%A5 - @astonishment

•All Of The Benefits: https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/708662967233822720/%F0%9D%96%A0%F0%9D%97%85%F0%9D%97%85-%F0%9D%96%AE%F0%9D%96%BF-%F0%9D%96%B3%F0%9D%97%81%F0%9D%96%BE-%F0%9D%96%A1%F0%9D%96%BE%F0%9D%97%87%F0%9D%96%BE%F0%9D%96%BF%F0%9D%97%82%F0%9D%97%8D%F0%9D%97%8C - @astonishment

•If I Kiss You, I’m Sorry: https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/711289099349311488/%F0%9D%96%A8%F0%9D%96%BF-%F0%9D%96%A8-%F0%9D%96%AA%F0%9D%97%82%F0%9D%97%8C%F0%9D%97%8C-%F0%9D%96%B8%F0%9D%97%88%F0%9D%97%8E-%F0%9D%96%A8%F0%9D%97%86-%F0%9D%96%B2%F0%9D%97%88%F0%9D%97%8B%F0%9D%97%8B%F0%9D%97%92 - @astonishment

•You’re Losing Me (series): https://www.tumblr.com/astonishment/718987676510978048/%F0%9D%98%A0%F0%9D%98%B0%F0%9D%98%B6%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%A6-%F0%9D%98%93%F0%9D%98%B0%F0%9D%98%B4%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AF%F0%9D%98%A8-%F0%9D%98%94%F0%9D%98%A6 - @astonishment

•Game Night: https://www.tumblr.com/thewriterghost/733238745843826688/game-night - @thewriterghost

•Rivals: https://www.tumblr.com/mastermindmiko/730404983676321792/rivals - @mastermindmiko

(TASM) Peter Parker:

•Stacked Against You: https://www.tumblr.com/delicate-dorothea/721251792081518592/stacked-against-you - @delicate-dorothea

•The Last Time: https://www.tumblr.com/delicate-dorothea/725983375860645888/the-last-time - @delicate-dorothea

•How You Get the Girl: https://www.tumblr.com/californ1asnow/721891388315320320/how-you-get-the-girl - @californ1asnow

Coriolanus Snow: I promised myself I would not like Snow because of the first hunger games movies but @runningfrom2am ‘s leveling the playing field series made me break, it’s just SO GOOD

•leveling the playing field (series): https://www.tumblr.com/runningfrom2am/735903707790819329/take-me-to-the-lakes-where-all-the-poets-went-to - @runningfrom2am

•money, power, glory: https://www.tumblr.com/kitscutie/734552947740082176/omg-if-youre-still-wanting-requests-for-coryo - @kitscutie

•snow and roses: https://www.tumblr.com/kitscutie/734453621921611777/hi-i-saw-your-post-about-snow-omg-can-i-request - @kitscutie

•snow and roses (part2): https://www.tumblr.com/kitscutie/734607629043761152/snow-and-roses-part-ii-coriolanus-snow-x - @kitscutie

•cold nights (series): https://www.tumblr.com/runningfrom2am/737839190954409984/cold-nights-masterlist - @runningfrom2am

Charles Leclerc:

•HEARTBREAK ON TOUR: https://www.tumblr.com/twobluejeans/724169015147315200/welcome-to-the-masterlist-youre-just-in - @twobluejeans

[lonestarflight]

“Touring the Michoud Assembly Facility Friday, 20 new astronauts have a look at a Saturn V first stage booster under construction. The group also inspected the Saturn V S-IC. Five scientist-astronauts are included in the group. The 20-man team was selected by NASA last year.”

The astronauts are from Group 5 "Original Nineteen" and Group 4 "The Scientists", they are (L-R): Stu Roosa, Al Worden, Bill Pogue, Charlie Duke, Jerry Carr, Joe Engle, Vance Brand, Jack Swigert, Jim Irwin, Joe Kerwin, Paul Weitz and Ken Mattingly.

Date: May 28, 1966

Mike Acs's Collection: link

[nolanhollogay]

pick some ocs, what are their “this barbie/ken is” slogan?

this is so fun!!!!

- achilles' is "this barbie is a dancer"

- nova is "this barbie is a pogue" <3

- edgar is "he's ken & catholic"

[nonesuchrecords]

Ken Burns was on CBS Sunday Morning to talk with correspondent David Pogue about his new two-part documentary, LEONARDO da VINCI, which will air on PBS November 18 and 19 and for which Caroline Shaw wrote an original score that was released last week. "There's a kind of dynamism and movement to it that's just exquisite," Burns, who is joined on the show by his co-directors, Sarah Burns and David McMahon," says of Leonardo's work. "He could feel I think quite rightfully that he had lived a fuller life than practically anybody I've ever come across in my study in any period." 

[tilbageidanmark]

MOVIES I WATCHED THIS WEEK (#199)

4 MORE TURKISH CLASSICS:

🍿 BURNING DAYS, a slow-burn, overlooked thriller-Noir about a strait-arrow youngish state prosecutor arriving in a remote little town in Anatolia, where he discovers, to his detriment, that it is rife with political corruption. Tense and surprisingly-ambiguous, with a latent homo-erotic sub-plot (which obviously caused a scandal in Turkey when it screened). There are subtle metaphors of a boar hunt, xenophobia and massive sinkholes on the playa around the town, which adds complexity to the suspense. Underrated and recommended - 8/10.

(This is the 1,000th film that I've seen this year.... Congratulations?...)

🍿 VANISHED INTO BLUE (2012) is a quiet little masterpiece, played in one unassuming tracking shot. A boiling kettle slowly steams a mirror on the wall, and the story is told as a reflection in that mirror. A middle age woman is serving a meal to her husband, who's about to give her some disturbing news. 10/10.

🍿 In Nuri Bilge Ceylan's CLIMATES (2006) he and his real-life wife play a couple whose marriage falls-style apart. Anybody who ever lived through a relationship that painfully disintegrates, will be able to recognize the pains here. Not as searing as Bergman's 'Scenes from a marriage', or as devastating as 'A Marriage story', this is a slow-burn and silent masterpiece. The film is told from the husband point-of-view, even though he's a mildly-unsympathetic, mildly-chauvinistic asshole. There's even a "Western-style" rape-game scene that is unsettling. 8/10.

This is my 8th film by Ceylan. He is such a classic story-teller, and each of his movies deals with different topic in all too different environment, but all are so humane. The only films of his I haven't seen by now are 'The small town' and 'Clouds of May', which are next in line.

🍿 LAW OF THE BORDER (1966) was one of the first realistic films of the "New Cinema" in Turkey. The Neo-Western story took place in a poor, primitive village, dependent on subsistence smuggling and sheep farming. It was re-discovered and restored by Martin Scorsese's 'World Cinema Foundation'.

🍿

2 POLITICAL THRILLERS:

🍿 "Nobody gives a shit of what happens in Northern Ireland..."

HIDDEN AGENDA (1990), my 7th film by Ken Loach. A straight political thriller, so very different from all the social-realist dramas of his that I've seen so far. Younger Logan Roy and Frances McDormand and the complicity of the British security forces in pure terrorism upon the Irish. And the conspiracy goes all the way to evil Margaret Thatcher! Of course, the film was "controversial" among right-wing Brits at the time, who viewed the IRA then like some people do the Palestinians now. It wasn't exactly '3 days of the condor', more like... [Costa-Gavras' 'Z'?... Not sure what...] It's time to listen to some Pogues again... 7/10.

🍿 SEVEN DAYS IN MAY (1963), another of John Frankenheimer's nail-biting cold war thrillers about a military conspiracy and a Coup d'état in the United States. The plot's ideological background is the nuclear disarmament with the Soviets. Starring friends Burt Lancaster (with his 'You know it when you hear it' intonation) and Kirk Douglas, the Brad Pitt and George Clooney of that era. Also, another unmistakable voice, that of producer John Housman, here in a cameo of a decorated Vice Admiral (his first acting role), and Ava Gardner.

It surely is Lieutenant General Michael 'Flynn's (Ret.) favorite film (Except of the ending)... 7/10.

🍿

THE CLOSING OF WINTERLAND was a 5-hour-long concert given by the Grateful Dead on December 31, 1978, the last concert given at the arena before it was shut down. ♻️.

RIP, PHIl LESH!

🍿

2 FANTASTIC DOCUMENTARIES, BEST FILMS OF THE WEEK!

🍿THE ABOVE (2015), my third documentary gem from Kirsten Johnson (After 'Cameraperson', 'Dick Johnson is dead'). A mysterious white blimp is hovering over Kabul, Afghanistan, like a large sky whale. It’s a U.S. military surveillance balloon which is highly classified, and people work and mill around under its watchful eye. 9/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿 PONY BOYS (2022) is the wholesome, terrific story of two brothers, 9 and 11 year old, who traveled alone by a pony cart from their Boston suburb to the 1967 expo in Montreal, Canada. The successful 27 days, 350 mile journey was encouraged by their free-thinking mom, and was a delight to watch from start to finish.

🍿

2 PEEPING TOMS:

🍿 The much admired PEEPING TOM, the film that just about finished Michael Powell's career. A lurid tale about a developmentally stunted, creepy serial killer who shoots snuff movies of his female victims. Since they both came out at the same year, and both featured a perverted slasher, the comparison to Hitchcock's 'Psycho' is unavoidable, but unwarranted in my view. I couldn't see complexity in the psychological make-up of the man-child murderer, and not much depth in making the movie audience voyeurs together with him. The garish cinematography and artificially-colorful Mise-en-scène however were standouts. (Opening Shot Above). "He won't be doing the crossword tonight!" 2/10.

🍿 The much earlier PEEPING TOM from 1897 was strait voyeurism, but not much else. It figures: Within 2 years of the invention of the new media of 'moving pictures', it would be applied for pornography.

🍿

In ISLAND SONGS (2017), Icelandic musician Ólafur Arnalds drives around the island and meets seven other local artists. Together they create ethereal songs and melodies, and play them out in beautiful churches, tiny villages and community centers.

🍿

3 BY INDIA DONALDSON:

🍿 While waiting for her new feature Good One, which was heralded as "The year's best debut", I watched her previous 3 shorts.

MEDUSA (2019) is a sexy story of a sexy young woman who is sexting with a marble statue. Roger's daughter does young women well.

🍿 HANNAHS was a bit more enigmatic. Another young woman cons her way into another woman’s NYC apartment. She's cute but irritating. The directing of this one is exceptional. 7/10.

🍿 She has an expressive voice and a style of her own. IF FOUND (2021) is possibly the best introduction to her work. An odd, dog-crazy young woman steals a dog that was left tied to a fence. [*Female Director*]

🍿

PYTHONS X 2:

🍿 THE PYTHONS: SOMEWHERE IN TUNISIA, CIRCA A.D. 1979 is a lovely behind- the-scenes documentary done during the filming of 'Life of Brian'. It also commemorated their 10 year anniversary working as a troupe. I loved the Tunisian ambiance! (Via)

🍿 FAWLTY TOWERS (1975) is considered one of the greatest British television programs. Cleese is the nervous and rude hotel owner, his real-life wife Sybil, Manuel the waiter, Etc. I took in the first episode again, just for laughs. ♻️.

🍿

After ‘The court Jester’ I vowed not to sit through another Danny Kaye's cringey slog-fest. But then I saw this fabulous tap dancing clip with new-to-me Vera-Ellen, and wanted more of her. Ouch! Ghost story-gangster-musical WONDER MAN (1945) where he plays twin brothers was painful to watch on all levels. Even his ‘Ochi chyornye’ and the final opera patter, his only two singing numbers, were just not great. No more! 2/10.

🍿

100 YEARS OF ULYSSES (2022) is a middle-of-the-road, idolized Irish documentary about James Joyce's process of writing his novel. A bit masturbatory and self-congratulating, but still moving in parts. I forgot how rebellious he was, how revolutionary were his political visions for Ireland. 6/10.

🍿

SOME TERRIFIC SHORTS:

🍿 THE EGG (2019) is a magical nugget, created by Philipp Dettmer, the creator, head writer and CEO of the amazing channel 'Kurzgesagt.' It's a philosophical story about transcendentalism and re-incarnation, recreated by the same flowery style used on their scientific videos. A brilliant 10/10!

🍿 FOR THE HUNGRY BOY (2018) is my all-time favorite Paul Thomas Anderson work, even more than his “Phantom Thread”, out of which these discarded shots were collected. Vicki Krieps is a major crush. The score is Jonny Greenwood's "House of Woodcock" from the movie. 10/10!

🍿 BRAZIL (1981), my first film by underground Brazilian director Rogério Sganzerla. It's a musical postcard that could be issued by the Tourism Bureau, and features clips by João Gilberto and Gilberto Gil. The frothiest, most romantic music in the world. Also, inexplicably some clips of Orson Welles 1942 trip to Rio.

🍿 LIFE IN RETRO FUTURE WORLD, an AI short that takes us back in time to a better future. Many more from Stephen Patterson. (via)

🍿  

(ALL MY FILM REVIEWS - HERE).

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review by @zyafics

LITERALLY FINISHED AN ASSIGNMENT AND NOW I CAN TAKE A BREATH LETS GOOOO (long annotations below ⬇️)

Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster.

my psychopath lets gooo

The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor.There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue.

ur descriptions paints the scene of s2ep10 when they were on the ship so well, like i remember staring at your words going: wow 😦

"They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me.""Now, what am I going to do with you?"

why r all the crazy ones so fine

“To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

i love LOVE when the reader provokes rafe using his father like bro that's such a trigger for him rein it in 😭

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

YOOOOOO 😡

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set.

god, i love ur descriptions so much u don't understand i'm taking notes as i read this 📝

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

i love how much of a psychopath he is in this fic, like yes, this is the crazy man of s2 (i can fix him 🤞🏻)

He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.

YES, i love maybank!reader's deep analysis of rafe bc we know and that doesn't excuse his behavior but it helps us understand him 🥹

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

i love her lore so so much!!

And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too.

she's a love not a fighter fr 😩

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away.""Family's supposed to be everything, right?"

my daddy issues babies, sometimes i wanna push u two together like barbie and ken during play sessions (am i making sense idk anymore)

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

I LOVE LOVE LITTLE DETAILS LIKE THIS

“Shut up. Just… shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm

he has a heart !!!!

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

one of the things i admire so heavily with your writing is ur ability to write tense dialogues, the way they fight back and forth with words!! like i love it so so much!!

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper."And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

LOVE LOVE A HATE KISS

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain.And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other.

the poetry!!! shakespeare!!! u can write hamlet but can william write this?!?!?

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing."And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

i love when they're making out but they find ways to take shots at each other "I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. “Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "“Fucking asshole.”“Fucking brat.”

he's such a prick 😭 i want him in my bed

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

one of the hottest things a man can say to me

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

one of my favorite scenes got me kicking my feet like a school girl (dude u CARE stfu 😭)

“We’re getting out.”You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."“Okay.”“Okay.”

I'M OBSESSED WITH YOUR WORDS OH MY GOD

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | okay okay, let me catch my breath because that smut (their banter!!) was so fucking hot 🥵 (why do i use emojis like a middle school boy? anyways) i think what i truly noticed from this fic is how compelling you can make a scene. the way you built transitions so seamlessly through strong descriptions about what's going on (plot wise!) and it's such an admirable skill that i deeply deeply wish i have. especially because the language and vocabulary you use are so clean and expressive without making the audience (like me) feel dumb about not knowing the definition (does that make sense?) also also. as i always point out, i'm obsessed with your build-up dialogues. right before we hit the intense parts, you manage to build up this anticipation and adrenaline from reader and rafe arguing back and forth. and what i appreciate is how you kept the enemies part of enemies to lovers all the way through, only concluding that reader feels complicated near the end. like i love that she didn't fold; she continues to be defiant and her and that brings me to another trait i love about ur writing: ur consistency in your readers. if u plan on making a certain reader rebellious, you keep it to the very end and i love that. oops, this is getting a little too long. anyways, as always, incredible work gigi, i would love to see more of maybank!reader from you especially a second part to their escape (and what it means for them to be back in obx together?? her brother's reaction?? 🫠)

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v; they tell each other to shut the fuck up a lot lmao;

word count: 8k...im sorry

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between the Kooks and the Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever. 

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth, lingering for days. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, fueled by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie. Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of Ward Cameron. The man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder. 

Because in his twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly assessed your options. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face. 

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a cold, calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking. 

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit, huh? Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch. You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at you, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he advanced towards you. You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that had settled in your bones.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at a moment's notice. You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people. 

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him. 

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again. 

His laugh was sharp and bitter. "You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“ 

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but fear clawed at your chest. The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading. 

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, burning hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body taut with the desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.” 

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting. His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the trepidation you’d felt stuck.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had. If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you. 

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!” 

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of relief and dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would give a single fuck. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you’re a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently. Your brother would probably assume you’re dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean taunted you from beyond. Days had melded into one another, each marked only by the arrival of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some sense of clarity, some hint of what your future held, but his visits offered nothing but insults and foreboding silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention. 

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that set your nerves on edge. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The stakes were clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a tense haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, his expression unreadable.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. This was a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists. 

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you. 

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. The island loomed closer, its pristine beaches and swaying palm trees offering a stark contrast to the danger that lurked just beneath the surface.

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight and unyielding as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you clung to the slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you on this remote island.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, their presence a constant reminder of the mess you were in.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman. 

“This will be your home for the time being," Ward said, his voice cold and unfeeling, as if he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, it practically swallow you whole. 

“My son will be keeping you company, don’t get too excited.” 

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration. Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a stark reminder of the power he wielded over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father. 

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face and something inside you urged you to fight. 

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," you said, your voice a low growl, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.” 

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to. He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You know he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him. 

Rafe’s words hung in the air like a noose, but you refused to let them tighten around your neck. "Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

For a moment, a flicker of doubt passed through his blue eyes. They were bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again, your pulse racing but your resolve intact. You had to get out of here. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation. You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department. 

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit. 

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine. Rafe's visits, Ward's looming threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward. You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently. Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother. 

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end. 

You saw the cracks in his armor, the moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence. It gave you whiplash. 

You began to argue less with him, your animosity slowly giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin. You watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask. 

Rafe's eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words. 

At this point he just sounded tired. 

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find. "You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention. 

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone. 

Again. 

The days continued to pass, but something had shifted. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too. You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act. 

Another day began with the same oppressive heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting a golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the rising panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. He stood with his back to you, staring out the window. 

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that cut deep and made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet. 

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it. 

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him. 

You met his gaze, the raw honesty of your answer surprising even you. "Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

Rafe seemed to consider this, his expression unreadable. "Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his own unresolved conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It’s heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”

You nodded, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

His eyes blazed with anger. “It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.” 

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad. 

"We always have a choice," you countered, your voice firm. "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression a tumult of emotions. Then he shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly. Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was the weight of your conversations or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle. Still, every interaction chipped away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air was still, the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You had been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house was quiet, Ward was gone and you hadn’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you knew how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork. 

You could it. 

This was your chance, and you couldn't afford to waste it.

You moved silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seemed to echo in the stillness, and you held your breath, praying you wouldn't be caught. The front door loomed ahead, your path to freedom. Your heart raced as you slowly turned the handle, wincing at the faint click that accompanied the action.

The night air hit you like a wave as you stepped outside, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had been your constant companion. You glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear, then made your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach. The plan was simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You kept low, moving quickly but cautiously, every step bringing you closer to your goal. The boat was within reach when a noise behind you made your blood run cold. 

The crunch of gravel underfoot was unmistakable. You turned sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerged from the shadows. The asshole who’d gotten you here in the first place. He was closer than you had anticipated. Your heart pounded, adrenaline surging through your veins as you broke into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouted, his voice carrying across the trees. You didn't dare look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You felt a searing pain in your arm, but you couldn't stop. You pushed through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rang out, but you were too focused to determine where it landed. You reached the boat, hands trembling as you fumbled with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensified, but you forced yourself to keep moving. Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around. You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but he was stronger. He pulled you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioed for backup.

"Got her," he said into the radio, his breath hot against your ear. You tried to wriggle free, but his grip tightened. Moments later, two more guards arrived, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house.

Your mind raced the sting in your arm a painful reminder of your failed attempt. As they pulled you inside, the walls seemed to close in around you, your brief taste of freedom slipping away.

Moments felt like hours as you sat in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. The quiet murmurs of the guards outside were interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flew open, and there stood Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barked, his voice a volatile mix of anger and confusion. His gaze scanned the room, landing on you. 

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He stormed towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous. Before you could answer, he whirled around to face the guards who had re-entered the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouted, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchanged nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammered. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twisted with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice dripped with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who had caught you tried to explain, but Rafe cut him off. “Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain was making you delirious.

 “We need to get that cleaned up,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holstered his gun and gently took your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards looked on, unsure of what to do or say. 

Rafe shot them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snapped. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men had left, Rafe's demeanor changed. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, hardened back into anger. He ran a hand through his long hair, pacing the small bathroom before finally stopping in front of you. His eyes were intense, burning with frustration.

He sneered at you, his voice dripping with disappointment and exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spat out, his frustration palpable. "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You tried to speak, to defend yourself, but he didn't give you the chance. His words came fast, each one like a dagger aimed at my heart. "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning into yours. "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to regain control of his temper. "You're just reckless," he continued, his voice quieter but still seething with anger. "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

He trailed off, his attention faltering for a moment before snapping back to you. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between knocking you out cold and something else—maybe concern, maybe fear.

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you called after him, your voice trembling with both pain and defiance.

He stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you. The fury in his eyes was matched only by the bitterness in your own. "I don't," he retorted, his tone icy. "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You stood up, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, facing him head-on. "So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose "Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twisted showcasing his wrath, and he took a step towards you, closing the distance. "Shut up!” he growled. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He took another step towards you, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching. "I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gave you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twisted into an expression of silent hatred. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. His hands came up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper.

"And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.

The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. His mouth was demanding, almost punishing, and you responded, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you wanted to push him away.

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other. Each fingertip left an imprint, a silent declaration of the strength he was restraining. It was like he was fighting to contain this force within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both. 

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… All you wanted were his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roamed slowly yet purposefully over your lower back, over your waist. You breathed out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pulled him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes. 

He pulled away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinked down at you. You watched him lick his bottom lip, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His eyes flared with renewed anger, but also with something else—something darker, more primal. Your words were like a match to gasoline. He didn't respond verbally; instead, he took a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift, decisive motion, Rafe carried you to the dining table, and you barely had time to register the cool wood against your back before he was on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matched your own. There was no tenderness there, only raw need and a desire to consume. He pried your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kissed you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers gripped your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation fluttered beneath your skin, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he pressed flush against your center.

His hands moved with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. You reciprocated eagerly, your own hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepened. Everything around you blurred as the room spun, his warmth against you making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips, intoxicating and irresistible.

You tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just couldn't wait. He let out that deep, sexy growl that made a shiver run down your spine. His hands were all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they went. It felt like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way that words could never capture.

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leaned down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he couldn't tell if you were amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks rounded as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But you didn't want control. You wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you'd been trough and just feel.

Rafe seemed to sense this, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifted you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction was exquisite, a delicious tease that left you craving more.

"Rafe," you breathed, and he almost fell to his knees at the soft whimper that left your lips when he couldn’t help but jerk his hips forward. He responded instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a fervor that left you dizzy. The table creaked under your combined weight, but neither of you cared. Your hand grabbed his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There was a wildness there, a reflection of the storm inside you. You reached up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, left a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slipped from your mouth as he palmed at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth grazed your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. 

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You opened your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you were the one in charge, but the intention died the moment Rafe cupped you through your shorts. A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat. Heat bloomed in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that flooded your skin and left you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierced into yours, watching as he pressed the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your entrance and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asked, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.” he rasped coldly, moving your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips parted on a sharp inhale as you felt him touch you for the first time, “Yeah, thought so.” 

Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his hands, and the room around you blurred into insignificance. All that mattered was the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his unwavering control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whispered again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that had fueled you for so long. But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You hated how much you needed him, how much you craved his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’d been locked away from society for too long. That was the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirked, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes. "No, you don’t.” 

You did. At least you used to, everything’s confusing now.

He teased you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that made your heart race.

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need was overwhelming, a fierce ache that demanded release. 

“Fuck you," you spat, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that made your hips buck against his hand. "That's right," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escaped your lips, and you arched into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers moved expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that left you breathless. Every touch, every stroke was designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you were nothing but a trembling, pleading mess.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasped, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "Please, I need you."

His smirk widened, and he pulled his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He didn't make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he freed himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water. 

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that made your heart skip a beat. 

You nodded, your eyes locking with his, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, Rafe."

He didn't need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. Your back arched involuntarily, your lips parting as he entered you, filling you completely in a way you had never imagined.

He rolled his hips firmly against yours, and your head tipped back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You’d never felt so full. He didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. After another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm. His movements were hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. 

You clung to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaked and groaned beneath you, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering control. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You could feel him losing control, his need matching your own. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, blocking him out so you could pretend you weren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really wanted to shut him out, you just couldn’t fight the crazy pull he had over you. His voice was like a force of nature. You opened your eyes and locked onto his intense gaze. Seeing him above you, his face twisted with raw need and determination sent chills down your spine. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with this dark, unyielding intensity that left you totally breathless. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval and something deeper, something that made your heart race even more. It made you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck"

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. The pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that left you gasping, moaning, begging for more. His name slipped from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answered with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied, more primal.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world had narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that would undoubtedly linger.

"Rafe," you whimpered, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm... I can't..."

He understood. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commanded his voice a raw whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that left you trembling and breathless.

Rafe followed you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that left him shaking. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rode out his orgasm, his movements slowing until he finally stilled, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was something almost tender in his gaze. 

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

“Rafe...“

Before you could process his words, before you could question or argue, his lips were on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle. 

Devastating almost. 

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Rafe’s words snapped you back to reality, the pain in your arm a sharp reminder of your injury. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporated, leaving you with the stark realization of your situation. You pushed at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Then do something about it."

He just stood there, staring at you as if he had never seen you before. As if he was truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hated every second of it because your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shook his head, drew closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needed to ensure that you were real, that everything was real.

“We’re getting out.”

You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[anumberofhobbies]

Home computers (1977): “There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home.” —Ken Olsen, Founder of Digital Equipment Corporation (DEC) Laptop computers (1985): “For the most part, the portable computer is a dream machine for the few…the real future of the laptop computer will remain in the specialized niche markets.” —New York Times The internet (1998): “By 2005 or so, it will become clear that the internet’s impact on the economy has been no greater than the fax machine’s.” —Paul Krugman, Winner of the 2008 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences The iPhone (2006): “Everyone’s always asking me when Apple will come out with a cell phone. My answer is, ‘Probably never.’” —David Pogue, Technology Editor of the New York Times

[theart2rock]

Farewell - diese Musiker mussten 2023 gehen

Leider war auch das letzte Jahr nicht zu allen Musikern gut gewesen. Einige richtig einflussreiche Menschen mussten die Bühne wechseln, wie immer eigentlich zu früh. Den Musiker hören ja nie wirklich auf Musik zu machen. Was bleibt ist in allen Fällen ein Vermächtnis. Ein Werk für die Nachwelt. Deshalb möchte ich natürlich all den Musikern gedenken, die im 2020 in den Tourbus gestiegen sind und ihre letzte Tour angetreten haben. - Sebastian Marino (Overkill, Anvil, Ramrod) 07.11.1965 - 01.01.2023 (Herzinfarkt) - Fred White (Earth Wind & Fire) 13.01.1955 - 01.01.2023 - Manni Jordan (Heaven's Gare, Steeltower, Carrion) 27.01.1960 - 02.01.2023 - Jeff Beck 24.06.1944 - 10.01.2023 (Hirnhautentzündung) - Doug Grandon (Psychosis, Mass Psychosis, M.O.D.) 10.01.2023 (Parkinson) - Lisa Marie Presley 01.02.1968 - 12.01.2023 (Herzversagen) - Van Connor (Screaming Trees) 17.03.1967 - 17.01.2023 (Lungenentzündung) - David Crosby (Byrds, Crosby Stills and Nash) 14.08.1941 - 19.01.2023 - Top Topham (The Yardbirds) 03.07.1947 - 23.01.2023 - Michael Kupper aka Maik Moti (Running Wild) 29.08.1957 - 16.02.2023 - Steve Mackey (Pulp) 10.11.1966 - 02.03.2023 - Gary Rossington (Lynyrd Skynyrd) 04.12.1951 - 05.03.2023 - Wayne Swinny (Saliva) 22.03.2023 (Hirnblutung) - Nora Forster (Sex Pistols) 06.11.1942 - 06.04.2023 - Lasse Wellander (ABBA) 18.06.1952 - 07.04.2023 - Guy Bailey (The Quireboys) 07.04.2023 - Ian Bairnson (Alan Parsons Project) 03.08.1953 - 07.04.2023 (Demenz) - Mark Sheehan (The Script) 29.10.1976 - 14.04.2023 - Tim Bachmann (BTO) 01.08.1951 - 28.04.2023 (Krebs) - Gordon Lightfoot 17.11.1938 -01.05.2023 - Andy Rourke (The Smiths) 17.01.1964 - 19.05.2023 (Bauchspeicheldrüsenkrebs) - Chas Newby (The Beatles) 18.06.1941 - 22.05.2023 - Kirk Arrington (Metal Church / Vanderhoof) 23.01.1962 - 22.05.2023 - Sheldon Reynolds (Earth Wind & Fire, The Commodores) 13.09.1959 - 23.05.2023 - Tina Turner 26.11.1939 - 24.05.2023 - Lee Rauch (Megadeth) 10.09.1964 - 23.06.2023 - George Tickner (Journey) 08.09.1946 - 05.07.2023 - Jane Birkin 14.12.1946 - 16.07.2023 - Tony Bennett 03.08.1926 - 21.07.2023 - Sinéad O'Connor 08.12.1966 - 26.07.2023 - Randy Meisner (Eagles) 08.03.1946 - 26.07.2023 (COPD) - John Gosling (The Kinks) 06.02.1948 - 04.08-2023 - Robbie Robertson (The Band) 05.07.1943 - 09.08.2023 (Prostata Krebs) - Peter Haag "West" (Hämatom) 15.08.2023 - Bernie Marsden (Whitesnake) 07.05.1951 - 24.08.2023 (Meningitis) - Jack Sonni (Dire Straits) 09.12.1954 - 30.08.2023 - Jimmy Buffett 25.12.1946 - 01.09.2023 (Hautkrebs) - Steve Harwell (Smash Mouth) 09.01.1967 - 04.09.2023 (Leberversagen) - Matt Vinci (Liege Lord) 01.03.1965 - 09.09.2023 (Krebs) - Roger Whittaker 22.03.1936 - 13.09.2023 - Jon Kennedy (Cradle Of Filth, Hecate Enthroned, Imperial Genocide) 25.08.1977 - 25.09.2023 (Autounfall) - Jeff L'Heureux (Culprit) 17.11.1959 - 10.10.2023 (Motorradunfall) - Rudolph Isley (The Isley Brothers) 01.04.1939 - 11.10.2023 (Herzversagen) - Steve Riley (Keel, W.A.S.P.) 22.01.1956 - 24.10.2023 (Lungenentzündung) - Heath (X Japan) 29.01.1968 - 29.10.2023 (Krebs) - Vittorio "Vic" Vergeat (Toad) 15.05.1951 - 01.11.2023 - Pete Garner (The Stone Roses) 03.11.2023 (Krebs) - Charlie Dominici (Dream Theater) 16.06.1951 - 17.11.2023 - Mars Williams (The Waitresses, The Psychedelic Furs) 29.05.1955 - 20.11.2023 (Krebs) - Kevin "Geordie" Walker (Killing Joke) 18.12.1958 - 26.11.2023 (Schlaganfall) - Shane MacGowan (The Pogues) 25.12.1957 - 30.11.2023 (Lungenentzündung) - Danny Laine (Wings, Moody Blues) 29.10.1944 - 05.12.2023 (Lungenerkrankung) - Ken Erb (Shok Paris) 14.12.2023 - Manny Martinez (Misfits) 16.12.2023 - Colin Burgess (AC/DC) 16.11.1946 - 16.12.2023 Leider wird auch diese Liste vermutlich nicht vollständig sein. Rockt in Frieden Lesen Sie den ganzen Artikel

[rededgefashion]

Spotted: The next round of arrivals for the costume party! Brooke looking amazing as a pirate queen. Pogue giving everyone nightmares as Jeff the Killer. Arrow showing everyone he's Keneough by dressing up as Ken. Georgina going as a Victoria Secret version of Rapunzel. Nova rocking the 2012's in her dress as a Bitchin Binder. Freya showing her spicy side as Ginger Spice. Illiana dressing up as Salma Hayek's character from Dusk Til Dawn. Alejandro going as a Roman and probably gonna have more thirsts written about him today and Thursday. Elliot looking good as hell as Red Hood. Lydia baring as much as she can as a mysterious and sexy masquerade character. Keep the looks coming! XOXO

@brookexbarlow @poguexoconnor @arrowxellington @georginaxrussell @novaxrockwell @freyaxsmithx @illianafuentes @alejandroxfuentesx @elliotbooker @lydiaxbrown

[michele-847]

KEN POGUE!

2.04 Bird In The Hand ↳ They shot at me, they shot at my friend. I want to know what it is we walked into.

[saturdaynightmatinee]

CALIFICACIÓN PERSONAL: 7 / 10

Título Original: Run

Año: 1991

Duración: 91 min.

País: Estados Unidos  

Dirección: Geoff Burrowes

Guion: Dennis Shryack, Michael Blodgett

Música: Roger Chartery, Phil Marshall

Fotografía: Bruce Surtees

Reparto: Patrick Dempsey, Kelly Preston, David Cameron, Gerry Davey, Ken Pogue, Sean McCann, Steve Adams, Marc Baur, Gerry Bean, Hilary Strang, Alan C. Peterson, Pamela Martin

Productora: Hollywood Pictures, Silver Screen Partners IV

Género: Action; Drama; Thriller

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0102818/

TRAILER:

[kierreras]

your barbie gift is amazing, would you do one with jj or other pogues too?

thank you for saying this, it really means the world to me! and i'm sorry for the late reply. oh, i have some thoughts on how to make the same gifset with sarah, actually. and maybe i'll do something with jj? but he's just ken! i'm actually kidding, even though i can't imagine writing barbie logo on jj's gifs, so maybe i'll do a ken version with him. as for other pogues, i don't think that i have many ideas for "this barbie is ..." part with others, so for now it's hundred percent would be kie & sarah, possibly jj

[soughtserenity-a]

" It does and news flash bitch if there's a new Kook princess it isn't going to be some nobody who showed up out of nowhere i don't care how good the head is Topper has been on thin ice since ever. " She giggles and snorts. " You picked the wrong one and the actual king is with a pogue! It's so bad... so sad. aw. " She pouts.

JJ leans over the little window and blows a kiss at pope who puts it in his pocket with a bashful shimmy and they both giggle.

" Good for you girl. " She drinks some of the mixed drink and sticks out her tongue. " This is good but Jesus the flavor is gone. " She chugs some Hawaiian punch and then pours the rest in in the drink. " These boys are not worth investing in honestly. I don't want to be somebody's mama telling them right from wrong especially if they're going to be a tool about it. Kelce? Follower supreme? PLEASE. Top might be worth it but he's gonna say one wrong thing I'll deck him and now I'm the bitch. "

" Besides I'm not setting roots here you already know my end goal. New york art scene. Imagine these ken dolls in new york. " She rolls her eyes. " LA maybe but even then i dunno. Lots of other pretty and important people there. "

"puhlease, like anything i say to topper gets through to him. i swear there's like a block in his brain that prevents him from learning anything. ugh, don't even get me started on that bitch. it screams wanna be pick me. thinks she's the next kook princess now that sarah is considered a pogue." a roll of her eyes is given.

"careful, jay, i might just swoop in and help with the business. then you'd have to deal with me more often." she laughed softly, shaking her head a bit. "you know the two of you would be cute." she laughed before shaking her head.

"topper doesn't know what that means. platonic is not in his vocabulary. but you know what is? pussy whipped. even if he doesn't actually get any. bat your lashes at him and he does whatever you ask. i mean, i support what you're doing though. that's kelce and me. mainly because i'm friends with his ex girlfriend."

[videomessiah]

Crazy Moon (1987)