#since u know the latter got a dead wife

[sleepyminty]

Man the heathmael-cathy discord reminded me so much the angela X roland-angelica discord. Make me feel a bit nostalgic

[izzielizzie]

Footnotes in the Story of Your Life

Nancy Drew never wanted to move from everything she knew in New York to an unwelcoming town in Maine, and she secretly refuses to enjoy her upcoming final year of high school, but that might not even happen when she and four Horseshoe Bay natives - Bess Marvin the socialite, Ace the stoic son of a single mother, George Fan the town foster child/screw up, and Ned Nickerson HBPD’s favorite ex-con - are accused of attempted murder. Nancy’s startled - when she said she wanted something interesting to happen she didn’t mean this - but soon she starts to notice that not everything is as it seems here (AU).

Title from “Tolerate It” by Taylor Swift

Nancy’s mother finds her sitting on her bed on the first day of summer with a framed photograph in her hands. Kate Drew softens at the sight of her daughter, her usually perfect posture long forgotten as she wilts into the bed.

“Nance,” she says quietly, and Nancy instantly looks up, her face crumpling. Kate crosses the bare room to sit next to her only daughter, wrapping a secure arm around her shoulder. “Moving must be hard, huh?” For the past month, the family of three had been packing up their New York home in River Heights, loading things into trucks as their friends came by with endless casseroles and ceramic dishes they didn’t know what to do with. Nancy, as social as her mother before her, had drawn into herself more and more as she made her goodbyes. 

“Liven up Nance,” Carson, Kate’s husband and Nancy’s father had said not too long ago as they ate the tuna casserole Helen Coring - Nancy’s best friend - had brought earlier that day as they put the contents of Nancy’s room into a U Haul truck. “We’re moving to River Heights Drive. Not that much of a change, right?”

Nancy had spent the rest of the night glaring at her father, resenting his audacity, and Kate had taken over with the reassurances. 

“Yeah. I just hate the idea that I’m missing senior year.”

“Well, you’re not missing it per say. You’re still going to school here.”

Nancy looks at the picture of her, Helen, and another friend named Burt at the junior prom, their arms around each other. Nancy sighs. She considers launching into a tirade about how New York and Maine are very different places and no she is missing school, the important parts at least, but she knows that this move is hard on her mother too, so she refrains. “I guess so,” she says, reluctantly putting the picture on the stand she had placed next to her bed. 

Kate kisses the top of Nancy’s head. “Good. Now why don’t you explore and I’ll see what casserole I can heat up.”

“Ugh Mom,” Nancy says, already grinning as she pulls her blue raincoat from one of the boxes on the floor in front of her.

 Nancy’s wanderings lead her to a small seafood restaurant with a great view of the Atlantic. Nancy’s not used to being this close to large bodies of water, and it’s making her a little nauseous. Her father, a native of Boston, assures her that she’ll get over the salt air smell, but Nancy’s not so sure. 

She looks up at the claw shaped sign, creaking eerily on its pole. The Bayside Claw Nancy reads. What a fitting name. And a fitting sign. Nancy’s about to turn and keep walking, since she’s not a big seafood person, but she sees a handful of well dressed men enter the restaurant. Nancy’s spent enough time in New York City to know when a well dressed person is just fashion conscious, or when they’re rich and up to something. These men are definitely the latter. Nancy pauses for a few moments to make sure that the men have had the time to settle, since she locked eyes with a young man with sandy blond hair and the beginnings of a goatee, and she doesn’t want him to think she’s following him.

Nancy is an unnecessarily paranoid person. 

She pushes through the doors of the restaurant and is nearly mowed over by a person the moment she steps into the dining area. “Whoah, I’m sorry,” she says, stepping back in time to see a woman with long black hair and an oversized cardigan stagger backwards, clearly discombobulated by well… everything. 

“Ugh, Victoria,” A girl about Nancy’s age in a green uniform grumbles. She catches sight of Nancy. “Sorry about that ma’am,” the waitress says, reaching down to haul the woman (presumably Victoria) off the ground. The waitress pushes Victoria out of the door that’s still held open by Nancy. “Go be drunk somewhere else!” The waitress - whose name tag reads George - turns to Nancy. “Can I help you?” 

Nancy freezes, not quite sure why to say she’s here now that she’s been spotted by this rather vocal waitress when she’s saved by another waitress, this time in yellow. 

“George, Mr. Hudson wants us to give his wife food,” the waitress says in a posh British accent. She’s holding a wobbly plate of fish and salad in one hand. 

George turns from Nancy to the new waitress, annoyance crossing her face. “Well what do you want me to do? Roll it onto a cart for her? Go bring it outside!”

“Mr. Hudson left his wife outside?” Nancy asks, without thinking. 

“Yeah, that fellow over there,” the waitress in yellow points to the sandy haired man Nancy had tailed into here. 

“And that fellow is both incredibly rich and able to give us a boost and my foster dad so maybe you should shut up and give Tiffany her food,” George snaps. Both Bess and Nancy flush. 

“Sorry,” Bess mumbles, stepping away and around Nancy to slip through the front door. Nancy’s a little jostled when Bess passes her, and she spins a little, turning towards the kitchen. She catches sight of a young man in a colorful Hawaiian shirt ringing the bell to signify an order. They lock eyes - ice blue on sky - and Nancy feels a wave of déjà vu pass over her, but she shakes it off. She turns back to George, who’s still looking at her, waiting for Nancy to say something. 

Finally, Nancy makes up her mind. If she’s going to be stuck in this tiny town she might as well do something to occupy her time. “Are you hiring?”

George looks her over. “Are you new here?”

Oh. So it’s that kind of tiny town. “Yes, my family just moved here.”

George nods. “Right. Well, we could always use a new waitress. We had one leave for college and Bess isn’t the brightest so…” George trails off, cocking her head. “Do you hear that?”

Both Nancy and George tilt their heads towards the front door of the restaurant, where they can hear muffled shouting. Both girls look at each other for a moment before Nancy spins and pushes the door open. George is hot on her heels, and after a few moments, a third pair of feet joins them. Nancy turns to see shaggy blond hair under a black cap and knows that it’s the boy from behind the counter.

Nancy stops suddenly when she sees Bess standing over a body, shock on her face. “Omph,” Nancy says as both George and the other guy come barreling into her. She stumbles, and George catches her around the waist. Nancy opens her mouth to ask the very obvious question hanging in the air- 

“Bess? What happened?” a decidedly male voice asks, taking the words straight from Nancy’s mouth. She looks up to see a tall boy with cocoa skin exiting a blue truck parked a foot behind Bess, the body, and the sleek car looming over the person Nancy can only assume is Mrs. Hudson. 

A strangled cry escapes George, and she rushes forward, dropping to her knees next to the woman. “Help her!” George says, looking up at the four of them as she lifts Mrs. Hudson’s head to rest on her knees. She cradles it in her hands like an injured bird. 

“What happened?” the Hawaiian shirt boy repeats. Bess is sobbing now. 

“I turned to go back to the restaurant and all of a sudden she cried out and fell! I don’t know!” 

Nancy, still not quite sure what in the world is happening, crouches next to George and Mrs. Hudson. She lifts one of Mrs. Hudson’s hands, feeling her wrist for a pulse. 

“She’s not dead,” she says as sirens come wailing towards them.

Fifteen minutes later, Nancy, Bess, George, and the two boys are sitting in the hospital waiting room with Mr. Hudson, George leaning against Mr. Hudson’s shoulder.

“The Hudsons have been her foster parents for the longest out of any of her homes,” Bess says, leaning over to whisper in Nancy’s ear. Nancy smiles at her. “I remember what it’s like being new. I only moved in with my aunt here in Horseshoe Bay last month. I used to live in London. I’m Bess by the way.”

“Nancy,” Nancy says.

“Welcome. Where did you live before?”

“New York.”

“City?”

“State.”

“Oh that’s nice. I love the city, did you go often?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Nancy says as the waiting room doors swing open. She’s startled to see a man in a uniform striding towards their little group. He’s probably in his thirty or forties, and he’s got a no nonsense look on his face. 

“Are you the people found at the scene of the crime?” he asks in lieu of greeting. 

“Woah, woah, crime?” Mr. Hudson asks, standing up, startling George, who had been dozing on his shoulder. 

The officer turns to Mr. Hudson solemnly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “There was poison found in your wife’s system, Mr. Hudson, which means that someone had attempted to kill her.”

Everyone turns to Bess, except Mr. Hudson and the officers. 

Mr. Hudson stares at the officer for a moment before sinking into his seat, a look of genuine fear on his face. “Who would want to kill Tif?”

“Not me I swear!” Bess cries, latching on to Nancy’s arm. Nancy gently pries her fingers off her arm.

The officer shakes his head, ignoring the distraught waitress. “I’m not sure sir, but it’s our job to figure it out. Why is why I need to speak to these five.”

They all look at Mr. Hudson: Nancy, George, Bess, and the two boys whose names Nancy still doesn’t know. But Mr. Hudson’s face is ashen, like he’s going into shock. The officer motions at the young people. “Come along.”

The five of them look at each other uncertainly before standing and following the officer into the hall. Nancy catches sight of his badge: Chief E. O. McGinnis. 

Now, Nancy, being the daughter of a lawyer, should know her rights, and the right to remain silent is the biggest one, especially since she’s a minor, but she’s too confused and terrified to think straight. 

She’s being investigated for attempted murder. Attempted murder. God her mother’s going to kill her. 

The unlikely five line up against the wall. Chief McGinnis paces in front of them. “Alright. I’m looking at an ex-con,” he pauses in front of the guy from the truck. “The town screw up,” (this time he’s in front of George). “A city girl,” he’s in front of Bess now, who looks rather guilty in Nancy’s opinion. He moves to the fancy shirt guy standing next to Nancy. “An HBPD legacy and Nancy Drew.”

Except, that’s not what he says.

He pauses in front of Nancy, and tilts his head at her. “Who are you again?”

Nancy stares at him as the weird feeling of déjà vu hits her again. No. That’s not right. He knows who she is. 

But she doesn’t know who he is. 

Nancy feels her hands start to shake. Everything here is wrong. She should be sitting at the police station. She should know what’s happening. But she doesn’t because she’s being accused of attempted murder. 

But it shouldn’t be attempted. Nancy slides down the wall, her hands pulling at her skin where she can feel the ghost of a locket. 

My mother’s gonna kill me she thinks. But no, her mom’s dead. And Ryan isn’t George’s foster dad. He’s her dad.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t ri-

“Okay just give her space.” 

When Nancy comes to, she’s looking up into the face of the boy who had been working at the Bayside Claw. Nancy’s laying on the ground, her head against the cold tile. The boy gently slips an arm under her shoulders, helping her to sit up.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

Nancy doesn’t know the answer to that. He can tell, so he tries a different question. “What’s your name?”

“Nancy Drew,” she croaks. He smiles.

“Hi Nancy Drew. My name is Ace Hardy.”

“Hi,” Nancy mumbles back.

“And that’s Nick,” Ace says, pointing to the boy from the truck who’s hovering on the outskirts of the circle of people around her. “I hear you’ve met the girls.”

Nancy nods and Ace gently slips his other arm under her knees, lifting her up in his arms like she weighs nothing. He walks her towards the waiting room, talking as he goes. “That, Nancy, was a panic attack. Have those often?”

Nancy leans her pounding head against his muscular shoulder. “No.”

“Well, first time for everything. Got anyone we can call?”

“My dad,” she mumbles. Ace nods to Bess, who rushes forward with her phone out. Nancy recites her father’s number, and Bess puts it to her ear.

“Hello? Hi, yes, this is Bess Marvin. I’m calling about your daughter. She’s in the hospital, she had a panic attack.” Bess is quiet for a moment. “Nancy Drew, yes.” After a moment, Bess rattles off directions and hangs up. 

Ace puts Nancy down on a chair next to Mr. Hudson. Nancy looks at him sideways. She’s about to say something to him when suddenly - as if her brain has been reset or something - she forgets what she was going to say.

“Want some water Nancy?” Ace asks. Nancy smiles at the unfamiliar boy. 

“Yes, please,” she says. He stands and heads to the water cooler, Bess taking his spot. “What did the officer mean by Ace is a legacy?”

“Oh, that,” Bess says sadly. “Ace’s father was a Captain on the police force. He was in a chase once when Ace was a child. His car got hit, and he didn’t make it.”

“That’s so sad,” Nancy says. 

“I know,” Bess agrees. “His mother is all he has. She’s a librarian, but she doesn’t make a lot of money. They just get by with her salary and the pension from the state. That’s why Ace turned down MIT. To work at The Claw.”

“That must be so hard,” Nancy says. She can’t imagine giving up her dream of going to Columbia. 

“It is,” Bess agrees as the doors to the waiting room are pushed open. Nancy sees her father and mother being trailed by an annoyed McGinnis.

“You can’t just take a suspect home! She has to be fingerprinted! She has to give her statement!”

Carson turns on McGinnis. “Excuse me, but my daughter is a minor and she’s had a panic attack.”

“We’re taking her,” Kate adds. She spots Nancy and rushes to her, crouching to put her hands on either side of her daughter’s face. “Nancy, baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Okay, we’re taking you home, don’t worry, Mom’s here.”

It’s a simple statement, and normally Nancy would complain that it makes her sound like a child, but it relaxes her nonetheless. She slumps into her mom, letting the exhaustion and confusion sink over her. 

Kate runs her fingers through her red hair as Carson argues with McGinnis, who finally relents. 

“Fine, fine, you all can go if Drew is going. But I expect you back at the station at eight am sharp.”

Nancy is pulled to her feet by her mother, and before she moves, she puts a hand on Mr. Hudson’s shoulder. “Your wife will get better sir,” she says. Mr. Hudson puts his hand over hers. 

“Thanks.”

Nancy waves goodbye to everyone else before following her parents. As she falls asleep in the back seat of her dad’s car, all she can think is that something about this entire night is off. 

[shadowlight25]

Am I trippin or did archer girl's bro still move after namra had snapped his neck?🤔 I almost feel like he could be one of the others who she is talking about in the end. And that's why baresu smiles at the end. Bc personally I feel that cheonsang is not dead!! But they won't show us that right away if that makes sense. So its another familiar face. All the other people we know in the group died as regular zombies being bombed. She also mentions it was other students who managed to get away from the school so new characters?!? I thought they were all dead besides them lol. They must have survived on dead animals since they show us the ones on the street...Gwinam has to be dead bc his arc already finished and it would be tiring to still have him as a villain. Him being on top of cheonsang is the reason why the latter lived. No body no corpse! All we see is the name tag and a hand that could be anyone's. You can't tell with all that ash.

Why the heck did they never show cheonsang's dad?! That made no sense and it's like he didn't even mention him. Only the mom was put importance.

No slander towards Jimin for abandoning girlie!! She got scared and the zombie was coming straight at them. Unless the leg is broken than she should have tried to get up on her own. Weakness will only get you, the other person or both killed. I disliked people talking about karma when she could have still died regardless if she did the good deed. The only person who got deserved karma was nayeon. Sadly Jimin became the thing she wanted to kill.

Nayeon....tell me why her death was so weak bruh. They show us the whole flashback of the teacher telling her to go back to save the others and she dies three seconds later. I wanted her to get close to the gang to get them snacks at least and then she could die. I thought she would come back as hambie.

Why did they kill the dad of onjo so quickly...I couldn't even feel really nothing when he died or the reunion bc they gave us no time to savor the moment. But he did get her to safety even tho I feel like he could have avoided getting bit and lasting a bit more. It's like the show wanted to take turns hurting onjo and then cheonsang like....

The new enemy will be the military or whatever else organization that one man is a part of. He is sus and I think they are gonna test on the teachers son/wife to possibly create hambies of their own to combat the virus. The crazy hambie chic is nowhere to be found....

I think archer girl's bro shouldn't have died yet either....it should have been pink sweater girl bc of how clumsy she is. It wasn't necessary for them to all the lose someone very close. This also was a short lived reunion.

They never did show us the teacher again...he has to be a hambie.

Fuck ms park!! There is not excusing that blatant undeserved murder. I don't care if your the teacher. I hate how she let that slide. Don't care she died.

I think the only time I was mad at namra was when she was snapping necks and didn't mention this to the rest bc it seemed as if she noticed how to kill them the right way.

How the heck that baby survive that long 🤣 and with out making a peep.

Oh and what was the thing with onjo thinking stuff was salty?!?

Im sorry but baresu was goofy for wanting to get bit by namra like what 🤣... There is no guarantee u will be a hambie and you are one of the most valuable in the group.

Boy on rooftop is trash!! I hope he actually turned into a regular zombie. It's not the rest of the worlds fault that you were bullied. He was ok until he didn't say nothing about the rest of the kids behind the door. The crazy girlie too. She fucked up the chance for the kids to leave. The teacher also isn't excused for causing this shit all to happen.

Bring on season 2!!

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

Final part of The Letter >:D this was so much fun @randomly-a-fan ! Luv u❤️ so sorry it took so long!

Recap here !

The Reckoning

Pairing: Jason Voorheese x MJ, Jason Voorheese and MJ x Malon, side of Freddy Krueger x Malon, Archie x Malon,>:)) ?? x MJ and Jason

Warnings: Censored curse words, violence, gore/wounds , angst, small fluff, ?? being sweet, horror

This one might not be that good D: but I tried

Don’t hesitate to tell me the mistakes I made, since it’s long af<3

There’s a lot of time skip(—) but my ideas were mixed and I forgot some things and I’m lazy-

Songs I used:

Archie blinked slowly as he tried to find where he was, having no ideas and seeing as it doesn’t look like anybody’s here. Small parts of his memory were coming back to him very slowly, so he hoped to remember all soon....

And mostly hoped that Jason would do something about it. His father didn’t know about all that Freddy thing, nor his mother... so he couldn’t really except them to help. With a sigh, he walked around and tried to familiarize himself with the boiler room...

*

MJ was woken up with a gasp, sighing as she realized it was the same nightmare she had yesterday. A loud alarm was blaring from under the door and flashing red lights seeped through the cracks. “What’s going on?!” Panic took place as MJ’s eyes widened, her small frame shaking. There were screams outside, and she didn’t want to know who where their owners. Everything seemed like chaos, to her horrified satisfaction, there was even a coopery smell in the air, which told her that the people behind the door wouldn’t open it soon. A scream passed her lips as she realized she was wrong and there was a sudden banging on the metal, her hands clutching the white covers on the cheap bed. She panicked even more when the door started to open, ready to run outside when they’ll open it— Only to stare at the man before her. “W-what.....???” She was shocked and a little confused, his height difference being obvious. She saw the killer in the papers, but she never thought she would see him in real life... or even live long enough to take in his features. The silent killer only looked at her, his fist, face and white clothes bloodied, as he started walking. Was he sparing her?? Not wanting to be left alone and wanting to show him that she was grateful, she caught up to him. “Th-thank you...” The tall man didn’t show in any way that he heard her, but she was just happy he didn’t kill her. What she didn’t know tho is that he already knew her, but that’s a story for another time if any of you read the previous stories—

She walked alongside him, her shoulder brushing his big arm by moments. He didn’t seem to mind, but she was starting to feel anxious as they passed bloodied and destroyed corpses on the ground. When she wasn’t looking up at him, the killer’s blue eyes took her small frame in, no emotions on his face. The truth is, when he saw that she and Jason were taken, he waited in the open to get taken in. Even if it took some time for the smaller officers to get close to him, his plan worked, like always.

MJ’s eyes widened when she saw the figure of her undead husband approaching, a big smile on her face as she ran from the side of the long haired killer who saved her and embraced him, the latter doing the same and he smeared blood on her white clothes, but she didn’t care at the moment. The Shape looked at the reunion, a small sparkle of emotions blooming in his eyes for a really small second before it disappeared.

*

Some time later, in the dream realm, Freddy was looking at the newspaper, a growl escaping his throat as he read the titles. “Crystal Lake massacre escapes mental asylum!” “The Shape of Hadonfield taken in and escaping!” In his rage, the dream demon threw a mug that was on the table, scaring half to death the two kids in the corner. “That bxtch....” Rage engulfed him. How tf did Michael get into this?! Freddy grumbled.

The purple-haired clown was hiding the small redhead behind him, seeing that she was really scared. Malon started to feel sick as the heat seamed to increase, her small body not being able to bear it. When Archie felt her sliding down the wall, her feet coming to rest against his, he turned around and saw her breathing in big gasp, sweat literally dripping from her face and neck and he started to panic even more.

*

Having gotten out, the trio (Jason, MJ and Michael) walked into the parking, The Shape immediately going to a car and opening it with random keys the husband and wife didn’t notice. Suddenly, MJ doubled-over and gasped in pain as she felt really hot, her breaths coming in small gasps as she hyperventilated. Her husband immediately rushed towards her, getting down on his knees as he tried to understand what’s wrong, the click of the car’s locks audible behind him. But they didn’t have time for that, so he opened the door and before he could do anything, Michael took MJ and put her in the back before taking Jason by the arm and putting him in the driver side. He knew a little how to drive since he had to move some victim’s car, but he couldn’t for now because of his shock with being thrown in the seat and MJ moaning in pain at the back. Before he could do anything else, Michael closed the door and looked in the direction of where they came from, still with no emotions showing on his face, only a killer glare. If glares could kill, the nurses and police officers would be dead right now. His feet slammed on the pedal when shots rang, 2 bullets piercing the back window.

—

After being far enough from the hospital, Jason got into the back seat with MJ, who was feeling a little better now. “I-I’m okay now, baby...” “Thank you... And I-I’m so so sorry, it wasn’t me who sent the location—“ With wide eyes, he stopped her by putting his mask up and placing his cold lips softly on hers, one hand behind her head. Speechless and with a smile, MJ kissed him back. They cuddled and hugged for some time, and without realizing it, Jason fell asleep beside her. When she decided that she wanted to tell him about Malon’s situation, she realized he was sleeping... so she cuddled some more with a frown, knowing she wouldn’t be able to wake him up.

—

He was in a room he knew too well, having been here when he fought The Nightmare, Freddy Krueger. He couldn’t stop himself from letting out a shaky breath, his heart going a little faster as he remembered that day. “Well hello there, Big Guy.... Care to join the party?~” Jason turned around in a second as he saw the burnt guy before him, his rotten teeth into a wicked smile. Confused, he frowned and prepared his machete beside him, even if he knew it wouldn’t do anything to him. Party?? What party?? Eyes glancing down, he regretted it. Scratch marks and hair were all over the ground, even what looked like meat which he knew it wasn’t.

His eyes widened when he saw Malon’s body behind him, her red hair hiding her bloodied face and her body on the hot ground—

“Too late.”

—-

A breathless gasp escaped his unmasked face as he sat up, realizing that he was moving. MJ, who was driving, smiled sadly when she saw her husband awake. “Good, you’re awake.” She then stopped the car, turning the keys as Jason took his surroundings in. They were back at their house, the camp. A smile smile appeared on his face until he remembered what he saw in his dream and decided to tell his wife, the latter gasping in shock. “That... that’s probably the man that took her—“ A big hand was put in her shoulder as she started to hyperventilate again. She buzzed against it, the hand cupping her cheek as it’s owner made her look into his eyes, brown eyes blinking as he looked at his wife with a calm face. He knew what he had to do, he would do the same thing he did when Malon was taken the first time... He took his wife inside, her still shaking body wrapped tightly in his arms. Before starting with the plan, they changed their clothes and Jason carefully pushed MJ to get on the bed, taking his notepad and writing on it as she frowned. “She is in the dream realm, we’ll take her back.” “You.. You’re sure Jay..?” He gave a nod in response. So with a sigh, she leaned back and tried to sleep, Jason getting behind her carefully as he set the watch on his wrist, the last time he took it coming back to his mind. He put the minuter to 35 minutes and got down. Their bodies tangled together as they relaxed, their minds going blank as they fell into their nightmare.

Boiling hot steam streamed out of the groaning pipes above them as they got up, MJ taking Jason’s hand as her eyes darted back and forth. The father was determined to find his daughter, again, even if it took his own life this time. He didn’t knew why Freddy did this, why he tried to take all the good things he had, but what he was sure of is that he would make sure to take him back to the real world and make him pay. He knew that Malon wasn’t really dead, he felt it. He only wanted to provoque him, like that last time. His thoughts were cut short when he heard a boyish scream, followed by a high pitched one. He immediately ran toward the noise, MJ running after him with wide eyes, only to trip on a chain that came out of nowhere. “Jay—“ The metal wrapped tighter around her, making her whimper and silencing her. Jason’s steps immediately stopped as he turned toward his lover, his machete at the ready. Not even taking the time to think, he swung the weapon with so much force that the chain creaked and almost broke, finally breaking when he gave another. He caught her body, slowly placing it ont he ground before kissing her head and running toward the noise again, leaving his lover all wrapped up in the rusty metal. Ignoring her calls, he knew she would be safer there. A quick glance at his watch, his breathing hitched in his throat when he saw he had only 20 minutes.

When Jason finally found the source, after 10 minutes of running around in circle, he had to hold back another gasp. Before him were Archie and Malon, the two of them covered in bruises. He didn’t know what was more shocking, Malon sweating and looking sickly pale on the ground, or Archie standing before her protectively, a claw mark on his face and two on his arm. The scratches weren’t deep, but it still looked like it really hurt. They looked like they’d been through hell, small burns covering their bodies.

He couldn’t hold himself back, jumping and tackling Freddy who only now realized his presence. They fought on the ground for some time, Malon crying and whimpering in the background as Archie tried to calm her and watched silently. Each time the dream demon tried to wrapped something around him or disappear, he would always find him at the end. Jason gave all he could, almost getting transpierced by his own weapon. 3 mins. He made sure Malon and her friend were alright before he kicked the brunt man two or three times, making him bark out a laugh. He then rolled to the side as Freddy’s glove was about to slash, taking down the kids with him as the watch finally beeped—

He rolled down the bed as he woke up, the children groaning as they came in contact with the hard floor. MJ was still sleeping, so he made sure to carry her somewhere safer before The Nightmare appeared and slashed at his back, making his daughter scream as she fell and MJ waking up. The two female screamed and cried as they hugged each other, the older one taking the small boy and pulling him back as he tried to get into the fight.

Freddy got thrown through the window as Jason jumped too, Malon following closely behind without him noticing. She was scared for her father and knew that she could never beat a grown man, but her curiosity got the best of her. They got to the lake, Jason forgetting his fears as he continued to slash his weapon, smirking under his mask when he sees Freddy leaning down and panting. They fell to the ground, and as he raised his machete and was going to kill him, the man under said something that made him stop.

“Come on, momma’s boy. Slash me infront of your daughter.~” he dared to look behind him as he caught his daughter small frame behind him, her eyes wide open. The demon had the smuggest look on his face, which didn’t help Jason’s decision as he put his arms on top of his head as he brought down the weapon with his two hands, hearing the sickening sound of the blade transpiercing his flesh.

[back-and-totheleft]

"I do have the right to talk"

In many people’s opinion, Oliver Stone doesn’t just court controversy. He buys it dinner and tickets to a Broadway show. With movies like “Platoon,” “Salvador,” “JFK,” “Born on the Fourth of July” and “Natural Born Killers” on his resume, it’s no wonder the Oscar-winning director has a hot-button reputation of sorts. Perhaps that’s why one of the most controversial things about his new film, “World Trade Center,” which opens Wednesday, is how uncontroversial it is.

Based on the true story of two New York Port Authority cops who were pulled out of the rubble after the towers collapsed Sept. 11, 2001, the movie plays it straight – it keeps politics, one of Stone’s favorite topics, out of the picture.

During a recent conversation at the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead in Atlanta, the confident, well-spoken filmmaker talked about his new film, a few of his old films and being Oliver Stone.

Q: When the word came that you were making a movie called “World Trade Center,” I think a lot of people thought, Uh-oh, he’s going to create a controversy, he’s going to sensationalize a national tragedy. Why would that be?

A: I got politicized a long time ago. My films were seen as one thing or another. I was surprised, frankly. There’s an Oliver Stone they talk about, and he’s not me. I mean, this is a ball of years. Twenty, 30 years, going back to “Midnight Express” even (the 1978 film that won him his first Oscar, for Best Adapted Screenplay). Years of confusions and repetition of lies.

A big one, for instance, was “JFK.” The lie has been, Oliver Stone makes up history. He falsifies history. Brainwashes children. He would have us believe the idiot theory that 25 government agents, along with Lyndon Baines Johnson, killed John F. Kennedy.

The true meaning of that film was a question about what reality is in politics, what surface events mean. All the language was suppositional, except for (Jim) Garrison’s feelings at the end of the trial. And even some of that was suppositional.

The rap on the politics (in my movies) is really about statements I’ve made between the films. I could be faulted for that. I did shoot myself in the foot for saying things. But I don’t believe in being censored. Because I’m a filmmaker and a celebrity, people think I have no right to talk. But I say to you, I do have the right to talk. I’ve earned the right to talk. I served my country. I did my time. Paid my taxes. Had children. All that (expletive).

Q: But you do see that you’re a hot-button personality to people, even when it’s not a politically themed movie. People seem to react very personally to you and your work.

A: I became a hot button, especially on that film (“JFK”). But “Natural Born Killers” added to it. And probably “Born on the Fourth of July” and “Platoon” (Stone won best-director Oscars for the latter two). By the time I made “The Doors,” with the drugs, I was a ��raving lefty.”

Q: Where were you when you found out America had been attacked on 9/11?

A: Nothing exciting. I was in L.A. Asleep. The time zone difference. My wife woke me up and turned on the TV. It was pretty shocking stuff.

I’m not a pacifist or a bleeding-heart liberal, as some people say. I believe in measured vengeance. Two thousand al-Qaida fighters killed 3,000 people. I’m all for going after those 2,000 and, when it became necessary, the Taliban. The world was with us, and I think I show that in the movie. That was the right war, the one Dave Karnes (the Marine who discovered the trapped men) should’ve gone to. Instead, he went to Iraq, which seems to me a confusion. A confusion I don’t understand.

Q: One of the things that ran through my mind after the movie was the line from “Manhattan,” where Mariel Hemingway says to Woody Allen, “You gotta have a little faith in people.”

A: I can’t say that’s the original reason. It was just a great story, and it was true. It came to me out of the blue. I wasn’t thinking about a 9/11 movie, but Andrea Berloff wrote this script that had these five figures in it. (The police officers, John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno, are played by Nicolas Cage and Michael Peña, with Maria Bello and Maggie Gyllenhaal as their wives and Michael Shannon as Karnes.)

They were inspirational to me. I’d never thought of it that way. As a microcosm. These people dug in. They didn’t give in to fear. They found their courage. Their faith, you can call it. The metaphysical thing that exists, the evidence of things unseen. They dug in and connected in a kind of collective dream, a collective unconscious. It’s a web, a thread, between five people.

Q: You’ve said your movies are an emotional barometer for you. Where does “World Trade Center” find you?

A: It was good to come back home after being in Iran for three years (for “Alexander”). To come back to this country, which is at war, and go back to the bottom of the cellar, so to speak. This country was raped collectively, and this is like going back to the therapist and saying, I want to know about the day of the rape. That’s where you start. Realism. Then let the demons out.

I didn’t know about these guys until 2004. And this Marine. At our first screening, we handed out cards, and the audience thought we’d laid in a Hollywood B-movie on top of the reality. They were shocked. They thought it (his character) was all (expletive).

But it wasn’t. This was the guy exactly. I saw him on TV doing interviews. And he really did go to Iraq.

Q: Speaking of going to war, in 2007, it will be 40 years since you were in Vietnam. Looking back, what do you see? And looking forward?

A: (shaking his head) Forty years goes like … it’s all moments.

The irony of it is, I was very pessimistic when I was young. Who else would go to Vietnam at age 19 to commit suicide? As I’ve become more realistic in life, I’ve become more optimistic. Because you have a better sense of the negative, and, knowing the negative, the darkness, you appreciate the light more. It makes you more optimistic when you do get the light. When you’re younger, you take it a little bit more for granted.

Q: I once read an item about you in The New Yorker.

A: (interrupts) Oh, no.

Q: You were having lunch with your mother.

A: (small sigh of relief) Oh, that was another one.

Q: She said she came to this country from France after the war (to join her American husband), and she was the only woman on a huge ship with 1,500 men. And she was already pregnant with you and was so nauseated she had to be fed intravenously. And you said, “No wonder I’m the way I am.”

A: She’s an Auntie Mame type. Not the greatest mother, frankly, but you’ll never forget her if you ever meet her.

Q: So you’re saying you were shaped in the womb by a lot of testosterone and a little bit of seasickness?

A: (laughs) I was probably throwing up myself.

Q: Someone once wrote that you were part Captain Ahab, part Ken Kesey. Would you add anyone to that list?

A: Oh, yeah. I’d add a few people. Any of the people I’ve done in my films have affected me. I’m part Nixon, part Garrison, part Jim Morrison.

And Alexander (the Great). I definitely lived through Alexander. I think that was misunderstood as an act of hubris, but what he was to me was the ultimate voyager. The ultimate adventurer.

Q: Which could also, in some way, describe you.

A: Yeah, but I wasn’t saying I was Alexander.

Q: Your approach to “World Trade Center” does seem different from many of your earlier films. Not so much a hot issue as a heart issue.

A: I used to be faster. I did 10 movies in 10 years. This movie was no different in its methodology, with the exception of “U-Turn” and “Natural Born Killers,” which were fiction.

I do my homework. I interviewed, and I interviewed. I interviewed everyone. We have a gold mine here. These two guys are lucid and can talk about it. And process it. This is a gold mine for me, a gold mine for all of us.

You know, the end of “Platoon” has a similar feeling. When Charlie (Sheen) is leaving the jungle, he says something to the effect: We the survivors have an obligation to the dead to remember. And with the remainder of our lives, we must bring a goodness and meaning to this life.

And I think that’s why John and Will are here. That’s why they’re helping us.

-"I do have the right to talk," The Orange County Register, Aug 6 2006 [x]

[presidentrhodes]

iron husbands?

yaaaaaas thank u ❤️❤️❤️

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

tony is the hunter; he comes from a long family of hunters who hunted werewolves in europe and then crossed the pond to come to the us. rhodey is heir/alpha to one of the royal bloodlines and centuries of survival instincts carved into his very dna has taught him to keep a low profile. rhodey's kept an eye on tony since college because their respective bloodlines have a long, bloody history. when wolves start turning up dead, rhodey assumes tony must be responsible, so he shows up in new york, ready to put tony's entrails on display in time square as a statement to the humans. except, to his surprise, he finds out tony has not only left his family's bloody history behind in the past, he's become a vocal activist campaigning for the rights of magical creatures in the country, including the werewolves. cue, rhodey and tony team up to find out who's killing the wolves and take them down; in the process, they obviously fall in love.

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

tony is the mermaid; he's been cast out of his family because of a mistake that got many merpeople and other marine creatures killed. he's been struggling to survive in the vast depths of the ocean, depressed, lonely and almost going out of his mind. one day, he sees a fishing boat capsize; while the land breathers are obviously an enemy, he ignores his basic survival instincts to help the fisherman struggling to stay afloat in the rough waters. tony brings the fisherman to a nearby island, with lots of greenery in the middle and no humans on it, and tends to his wounds (a broken arm, cuts and bruises etc). when the fisherman comes to, tony learns his name is rhodey and that, like him, he had also been cast out of his family and has nowhere else to go; that's why rhodey had set off for the ocean, hoping the waters would take him somewhere new. tony proposes that given their similar situation, they can begin their life anew on the island. and rhodey agrees.

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

tony's the witch, rhodey is the familiar. tony spent the first 20 years of his life thinking he didn't have magic, even though everyone in his family is a witch or a warlock. rhodey's an animagus; his animal form is a grey wolf, and he had been with tony since he was a puppy and tony an infant. one day, tony is being chased by a wendigo and rhodey leaps in front of it to save tony's life, getting seriously wounded in the process. tony panics because rhodey's literally bleeding out in his arms and he summons every last bit of strength and wills rhodey's wounds to close shut. they do; and suddenly tony feels the magic surge through his veins, beat against his pulse and thrum in his ears. rhodey's wounds heal completely within minutes and tony, with his newfound powers, drags his best friend and familiar to the nearest bar for a celebratory drink because "fuck you, howard, i'm a witch."

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

tony is the barista. he runs a small coffee shop that fits barely 10 people indoors and business has been bad ever since a fancier café opened across the road. tony knows he's going to probably have to close down soon and move out of the city because he can no longer afford rent. one night, right before he's about to close for the day, a tired businessman comes stumbling in and offers a $100 bill for a cup of coffee. tony notices how distressed and tired the man looks, so he lets him in and makes him a strong cup of coffee and warms up some meat pie, which the latter accepts gratefully. he finds out that rhodey's under a lot of stress because the board of directors at his company is trying to oust him from power. tony lends rhodey a listening ear that he desperately needs and they stay there in the café until 3am. from next day onwards, rhodey becomes a regular patron at the café, but business still dwindles until one day, tony puts up a notice outside informing customers that he will close down by the end of the week. rhodey doesn't show up for the next several days and tony assumes he probably gets his coffee from the other café now; until, on friday, as tony's about to close his outlet for the final time, rhodey shows up and hands him a stack of papers: it's the purchase deed for the space across the road. turns out, rhodey made the other café owner an offer they couldn't turn down. rhodey tells tony that he quit his job as ceo of his company and asks tony if he wants to be business partners. within a month, they're running the café from across the road and business has never been better; tony still works as barista from time to time even though they now have 10 full-time staff and rhodey's already talking about plans to create more franchises across the country. at some point, they evolve from being just business partners to...well, partners.

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

tony's the TA/PhD candidate and rhodey's the professor. they are both astrophysicists by training and they study pulsars for research. needless to say, their academic opinions differ plenty and whenever tony isn't marking problem sets and rhodey isn't lecturing young, impressionable minds, they're arguing about pulsars and what they can tell the world about matter and the existence of other exo-planets over a night cap. tony is envied by the other doctoral candidates in his year because he gets to spend so much time in professor rhodes' proximity (hello??? hot, youngish professor who's super accomplished, super smart, has some graying hair, wears tight polos and black-rimmed glasses? fucking hell...) in this instance tony's like 29, rhodey's about 34.

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

rhodey's the knight and tony's the prince. here's the backstory: tony's mum was king howard's first wife. when howard remarried, he had another son, prince arno. per the kingdom's rules on succession, you can only ascend the throne if you're of pure royal blood. tony's mum was a commoner, so she was never afforded the royal title of queen, whereas howard's second wife was a princess from a neighbouring kingdom. that said, king howard wants tony to inherit the throne, something that many of his close advisors as well as arno and his mother refuse to accept. they see tony as an impediment and when howard falls ill, numerous attempts are made on tony's life. tony is obviously very booksmart and he excels at strategy, which is why howard wants him to be king. when howard senses a possible civil war could be brewing in the kingdom, between supporters who want tony to be king and those who'd prefer arno, he calls aside a young knight, sir james, and makes him swear on his life to protect tony. (howard knew tony and rhodey had been childhood friends, which is why he approached him in the first place) when shit hits the proverbial ceiling, rhodey protects tony from all manners of assassination attempts until arno and his mother are finally thwarted and kicked out of the kingdom. tony becomes king and rhodey becomes his most trusted advisor, friend, confidante, and general. basically, tony hands the keys of the kingdom to rhodey and relies on him and his decisions to run it.

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

tony teaches kindergarten and loves his young charges very much. one day, they're joined by a shy, quiet new student, lila, and her overly anxious uncle, james. tony tries to reassure rhodey that lila, who had just lost her parents, would be fine and that he'd make sure she isn't being bullied or harassed for being the new kid. as the term progresses, lila slowly comes out of her shell; she makes friends, she loves recess, she loves colouring, and she is good with numbers. every week tony calls his kids' parents to update them on their children; his conversations with rhodey, however, last twice as long and become twice as frequent, until one day rhodey invites tony to lila's birthday party. tony isn't sure how to read into this: the other parents have never really invited him to their kids' birthdays and yet he doesn't want to turn down the invitation from the rhodes' (mostly because he doesn't want to upset young lila). though nothing happens at the birthday party, rhodey keeps asking him out. it starts under the pretext of wanting to know how lila is doing and morphs into them just spending time together until tony impulsively kisses rhodey on the day of lila's graduation to k2. with lila no longer his student, tony asks rhodey out on a proper date and soon he's spending his weekends at the rhodes' place until about a year later, he moves in with rhodey and lila.

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

rhodey is the editor for the opinions section in one of the top newspapers; he has a pretty fierce reputation of being a hardass editor who would chew and spit out anyone making rookie mistakes in the entire newsroom. new writers and reporters basically cower in fear; tony's an established hotshot columnist who's been headhunted from a rival paper to write a weekly political column. he is pretty well-known among politicos and is well read by a loyal audience, both offline and online. tony is basically used to getting his way until he submits his first copy for edit and rhodey returns it, each page crossed out in red, and with a remark on the final page that read: our company motto may be all news fit to print, but i am not letting this garbage print. tony is furious. how dare someone call his columns garbage when the news organisation is literally paying him a six-figure salary to write them. he marches up to rhodey's office and barges in, ready to fight. but he stops on track and blushes when he realises this asshole editor is the same handsome college senior that tony had a short, deeply physical relationship with almost 20 years ago. the argument just melts away from him and even rhodey can't find it in him to be as curt and critical as he is to the other writers because damn...the encounter brings up a lot of memories and regrets they have both had since leaving college and then losing touch.

send me a ship!

[lowbatterypleasecharge]

k-pop preferences: FMA

Ed: 

Monsta X - loud and gaudy, need I say more

Peripherally follows BTS - got to support them short kings

He wasn't a huge fan of Twice, but Al and Winry started playing the Feel Special Album and "Get Loud" is gospel

Stray Kids - "Miroh"... but also "Hellavator" and "DoUbLe KnOt"

Al: 

SNSD are the Amazons we deserve

Of course he follows Taeyeon, you buffoons

Twice in general, but also "TT" - "TT" is his spirit animal

IU is Class™

Seventeen - well-liked by everyone, "Very Nice," how could you go wrong?

Winry:

Really anything she can bop to while working, she's not picky

Made her ringtone on Ed's cell "Pick Up the Phone," because what the hell Ed

"Save Me" saved her many times, during many work shifts

Them Loona girls are pretty cool - "Butterfly" is promising

"Tell me why-y-y I'm so lonely," she absentmindedly sings to herself as she stares, bleary-eyed at the arm plate she has to weld into place before the shipment at 6 AM tomorrow. Today. 2 hours from now.

"Sugar Free" is her workout jam, no judging

Hohenheim:

There are thousands of souls, sometimes at war, in his body. He loves and hates all music equally. Hyukoh hits a certain way, though. There's a silence within himself when he hears "Gondry" that he hasn't known for centuries.

Roy: 

"Back in my day, we had quality music: Epik High."

Stuck in second gen

"Chaser" is his go-to drunk karaoke song - he and Hughes used to go to town on Fridays

(He may or may not have serenaded Hawkeye to "Mirotic" after a bottle of tequila...we don't talk about the scar on the back of his left knee)

Sometimes the young-ins do something right - I'm looking at you, "Shangri-La"

Riza: 

Usually passes the AUX cord to someone else, but objective quality

Dreamcatcher is always a safe bet, style for days

Keeping her eye on BVNDIT because deep female voices are where it's at

SHINEE has her respect - classic, still going strong with "Good Evening"...as long as she never has to look at their debut hair again

(If she Tokyo Drifts to "I'm Sorry," only Black Hayate has to know)

Hughes: 

Though technically unrelated to K-pop, we all know Hughes did a rendition of "Baby Shark" with his wife and daughter and proceeded to curse every military base he was stationed at

Knows most of the same songs Roy does, but also oddly informed on the K-pop landscape as a whole - from g.o.d. to, gods forbid, ITZY

Sings "Lovey Dovey" a lot - whether it's for the memes or because he unironically worships the song, no one can tell

Havoc: 

Got7 ult bias - everyone wants to know why

But also, "Guys, iKON, 'Love Scenario' is where it's at."

Who's he kidding, really any gg could sing and he'd watch

Armstrong: 

Every morning he eats his 5 dozen eggs to "Sixth Sense"

EXO's "Mama" dramatics are goals

Knows the dance to "Again and Again," for some reason

Lust: 

"Bad Boys" by RV, but also "Peek-a-boo" MV is fire

Rip Pristin V, guys

Y'all wished they liked BP

Jennie is living her best life, though. Be hot...that's it, that's all there is to life. It's that easy.

EXID and Hyuna - free the titties, do God's work

Envy:  

There's a vibration under their pillow, which doesn't really bother them. But it happens again. And again. They lift their head slightly, groggily squinting into the darkness of their room. And then...a slightly muffled "A-to-the-G-to-the-U-to-the-STD." "Oh, Lust can go to voicemail."

They wouldn't say they like "Instagram" per say, but it's like the song won't let go of them. It's on every Spotify playlist they have, somehow. It's unsettling.

Greed:

Block B sinner, through-and-through, cultural appropriation be damned - they want it all

"Monster," no explanation needed

"Bang Bang Bang" is now inextricably entwined in their vocabulary because God is dead, and we have killed them

(and "DDU-DU-DDU-DU," but hopefully his crew doesn't know that)

Ling:

"24 Hours" > "Gashina," and he will die on this hill

But also he's been determined to figure out how to Taemin since "Move"

Vape, you say? Be gay, you say?

Lan Fan is in charge of setting up "Trouble Maker" on the boombox before he yeets out the window, or maybe "Sorry Sorry"...it depends

"Young Lord, what is 'jyp's don't leave me,' and why is the dance tutorial in our search history?"

Greed!Ling:

They've made a compromise, it's 2NE1, and it's possible they're both better for it

Perhaps "I Am the Best" is the anthem they deserved, all along

Lan Fan:

Day6 - the existential yearning

"I Smile" she thinks, very much not smiling

Also, scene kid Lan Fan in her black hood, meditating on life's greatest questions and Seungyeon's "Guilty"

(In other news, Lan Fan has learned to suppress many things in life, the lyrics to "Some" are not one of them)

(P.S. "Gashina" > "24 Hours," but the Young Lord doesn't have to know that)

Mei:

Anything Al likes, obviously, though she despairs at gen 2 gg legs

Astro, obviously

I.O.I. - Korean releases only, she's not a heathen

"Just One Day" - romance in a nutshell

Has a weak spot for traditional Korean influences - "Lit" and "Idol" come to mind, though she's pretty sure she wouldn't like the latter under normal circumstances

Scar:

Doesn't normally listen to music outside of religious reasons

Did the military try to make Scar do a PR stunt to RM and Whales' "Change?" Yes, they absolutely tried.

Olivier:

Again, not a huge music person, doesn't really do it for her

A nod in passing to those who don't pander to the masses on Weekly Idol, even if she doesn't know who they are

(Ever since then, Armstrong keeps blithering on about functions? She thinks. She doesn't care to understand how they're connected to red lights or electric shocks, though.)

Dr. Marcoh:

Trot

"Man, the kids really can sing these days," he thinks, biting his bottom lip and bobbing his head to Masked Singer

[chimswae]

Untold Bonus Part 2

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance, Father!Au

Word Count: 2,324

Author Note: This is an old story of mine i think i wrote it in 2017, so please ignore my clicheness and the excessive usage of clicheness~ that makes u cringe haha

You can check full masterlist below :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Part 2

“Oh god, how come you guys are here” Yeoul smiled and slowly took sleeping Minyeol from Taehwan.

 “Not my idea, ask Bangtan Sonyeodan” Taehwan eyed the six guilty guys who seemed all ready to dodge bullets from Jimin.

 Jimin knew something was fishy the moment when Taehyung kept on pestering him with kakaotalk message yesterday. They were up for no good. So this was it, cockblocking his honeymoon. Touche.

 “Now let’s start with Jungkook” Jimin crossed his arms, snickering under his breath still bewildered.

 “WHY ME?” he retorted.

 “Because you are the youngest. You are going to give this hyung answers. HONEST ANSWER, alright Koo?’” Jungkook gulped in fear. This was seriously getting out of hand.

He was not supposed to get involved but because of other hyungs, he was guilty as charged.

 After good 20 minutes probing answers from this innocent maknae on their real intention traveling all way from East Asia to Middle East when they have something better to do like a romantic trip in Jeju Island. Jungkook would either nod along in agreement or shook his head in dismay probably feeling offended of his other hyungs whom showed no sign to lessen the burden on his shoulder.

 Others were enjoying the fact that they were out of equations unlike Jungkook. Out of all the members, Jimin was fond of Jungkook and if there’s one person that would give in to his question, then it was the maknae.

 Jeering sarcastically, Jimin rubbed the bridge of his nose trying to brain whatever Jungkook told him “So let me rephrase it. You are saying, this is Minyeol’s idea? My Minyeol?” he probed again causing the younger guy to nod frantically.

 “Jeon Jungkook don’t pin the blame on my child!” Yeoul looked baffle.

 Jungkook cracked a nervous smile, licking his lower lips few times “ Yes, kind of. But, Minyeol is asking us when will you return, the person who suggested us to tail you here..was..Tae hyung” Jimin let out a dry laugh accompanied by a glare at Taehyung and Taehwan direction.

 “Which Tae? Taetae or Tae 2.0” he snorted.

 “Excuse me? So now I am Tae 2.0?” that offend Taehwan, “Don’t drag me in, this Kim Taehyung’s idea” he continued with a deep grunt.

 “Tae HOW COULD YOU?” Jimin shrieked in disbelief. Taehyung lifted his hand instantly, showing a V sign with awfully childish grin.

 “Jiminie.. I really want to visit Morocco… I thought it would be fun if we give both of you a little surprise. That is why we decided to come two days later than you to give you space” he grinned ear to ear.

 “So much for showing your empathy Kim Taehyung” Namjoon scowled.

 Yeoul giggle at his cuteness, as she sneaked her free hand to stroke Jimin’s back “It is okay Jims, the more the merrier. Thanks to them we get to meet our son” if it weren't for Yeoul sweet voice and her sunshine smile, Taehyung would be dead by now.

 “Fine... Since it ends up this way” eyeing Yeoul lovingly, Jimin leaned to her level giving Yeoul a soft peck on lips. He then slung his arm around her shoulder, taking a glance at peaceful Minyeol in his wife arms.

 Just like that, Jimin decided to embrace the reality that his members were there since he’s left with no choice. A soft cheer could be heard as the guys excitedly took their luggage and readied to crash in. Tomorrow would be another new day, indeed.

 Jin, Namjoon, Hope and Yoongi shared room together so they were long gone leaving the maknae line with the couple at the lobby. Once Taehyung obtained the key from the front desk, he waved eagerly “Tae 2.0, Jungkook lets go! I got the key” he exclaimed.

 “Yeoul, let Minyeol stay with us. Jimin and you need your little fun time anyways. This is your honeymoon” Taehwan offered.

 “It is okay Tae, he will be staying with us tonight. You guys go have a good rest. It was a long journey. Trust me you need that” Yeoul replied with a grateful smile. Taehwan could be a little too caring and nice, she felt bad for making him babysit Minyeol whilst she’s on honeymoon. Even though, it was actually Taehwan who volunteered to look after Minyeol.

 “Are you sure Yeoul?” the maknae seemed unsure because he still thought they were at fault for coming without notice.

 “It is Yeoul Nuna for you” Jimin corrected shooting daggers at Jungkook direction. The younger boy rolled his eyes in protest and ignored his hyung’s demand.

 Afraid Yeoul might hurt her arms for standing still for good half an hour now, Jimin took Minyeol carefully from her arms. Minyeol stirred a little and continued to sleep so peacefully in his father’s embrace.

 Yeoul mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Jimin and turned to face Jungkook and Taehwan. She hushed the two guys away and assuring them, they were okay with Minyeol with them.

“Good night Yeoul, Jimin” he was about to give Yeoul a friendly hug but come at halt as he heard a dry cough behind him. Oh yes, Park Jimin. Taehwan caressed the top of her head lovingly instead and snickered at Jimin’s way.

 That guy really had the audacity to give me a dirty look, what a jealous freak. Cuss Taehwan in his head.

 Jungkook beamed “Oh see you tomorrow. Good night hyung and Yeou- Fine… Nuna” he grumbled. Jimin had a satisfied smile plastered on his face knowing how easy to get Jungkook listen to his words. They watched both of the disappeared with Taehyung and heaved a relief sigh.

 “It is going to be a long long day tomorrow” he cringed at the thought.

 “Hey, it would not be that bad” Yeoul giggled.

 Interesting. The arrival of Bangtan Sonyeondan with their plus two would be one hell of honeymoon trip.

 ---------------------

 “I told you we should not drag them along” Jimin hissed.

 “Why not? It feels like a real family trip! With you, minyeol, me, and others. Smile mister husband, it is not that bad. Look at them, they are cute” she awed at the sight in front of him. Jin and Yoongi were struggling to climb up the back of the camel despite having a platform to support their weight, for some reason those two were just having a bad luck today.

 “MIN YOONGI CAN YOU STOP TUMBLING OVER LIKE DOMINOS” they could heard Jin whined like a baby.

 Yoongi pressed his lips into a thin line getting ready to curse the elder boy out loud “Kim Seokjin-ssi, need i to remind you camel aint my everyday public transportation. Shit,you whiny grandmama” he gritted his teeth in annoyance.

 Grumpy granny Jin pushed Yoongi away earning a death glare from the latter as he decided to climb up the camel first since Min Suga was taking his whole life to stabilize himself up there. As soon as he settled down or when he thought he was, the camel rose from its feet. To their surprise, Jin was just as bad as Yoongi, he landed on ground with face buried deep in the sand.

 The whole situation was ridiculous, everyone shrieked with laughter loving to see the eldest one among them struggling. Leader Namjoon came to rescue, still laughing straight on his face. He pulled Jin up, patting his face a little too lovely to get rid of the soft sand from Jin’s handsome face.

 “We need to take care of this worldwide handsome, his face is precious” said Namjoon mocking on Jin. He slapped his hand with a deep growl unhappy with his own bad luck today.

 “JIN-SSI DO IT PROPERLY!” Yeoul glanced at Jimin sudden outburst and laughed at his silliness.

 A visible frown on Jin’s forehead could be seen as he snapped his head to meet Jimin’s eyes “SAY THAT AGAIN PARK JIMIN! I WILL SERIOUSLY MAKE THIS CAMEL STOMP YOU OVER” that was the beginning of their love squabble.

 These two could not be stopped, as for Yeoul she had no intention to get involved. She’s better off alone with Minyeol unless Jimin decided to join them per his so called romantic camel ride.

 Taehwan helped to lift Minyeol up so the little kid could ride the back of the camel without fear “OMMA….IM SCARED” he squealed with a small giggle. Adorable Minyeol won every soul in the Sahara Desert just like he always did.

 “You will be fine Park Minyeol.. Remember, you are a boy” Yeoul winked, patting his leg as an encouragement. It took him few minutes before Taehwan let go him fully, he finally could stable himself.

 “Appa.. Omma.. I DID IT. MINYEOLLIE ON THE MELMEL BACK” he couldn’t suppress a triumphant smile on his face. Park Minyeol why you got to be so Park Jimin, Yeoul smiled inwardly.

 Jimin gave his son a big thumbs up and big wave enjoying the happiness flashed across Minyeol’s face. They really needed another fun trip like this in the future, minus Bangtan Sonyeondan and Lee Taehwan. Oh well, just the three of them would suffice.

 She took a few step towards Minyeol but Taehwan was quick to stand in her way “Nah, you are not going to ride this. I will be riding this with my Minyeol. As for you” he pressed his forefinger on top of her head, twirling her to Jimin’s direction.

 “You have a husband to take care of, you don’t want lady camel fall for his kitty smile right?” blinking confusedly, he pushed her back with a light pat slightly signaling her to move.

 Yeoul turned to Taehwan with a deep frown “You are so possessive over my son!” she gave him a final pout before strutting to Jimin whom ready to give a warm embrace. Like hell, he was on standby most of the time. Embracing unhappy Yeoul, he rocked her side to side.

 “It is okay you will have all the time with Minyeol. Why are you fighting over Minyeol? You know Taehwan is never going to lose to you” he tapped the top of her nose as she scrunched up cutely in response.

 “Now now, I cant wait to ride this!” the corner of his lips twitched into a charming smile.

 Wounding both of his hands around Yeoul’s torso, with a light push she was up at the back of the camel. Not long after Jimin hopped with the help of the helpers there and the platform of course, settling behind Yeoul.

 Now that their body was wounded together, Yeoul’s cheeks heated up at the body contact. Cuddling was their forte, but then for some reason Yeoul would still feel a little shy being super close with Jimin. She couldn’t help but to feel slightly anxious and nervous. Love really does wonder, it drives people insane no matter how frequent they experience it. It keeps on repeating. That never ending butterfly effects.

 Jimin rubbed his hand along Yeoul’s, interlacing their fingers together, he smiled at the warmth. The journey began, they were right behind Taehwan and Minyeol. Sahara Desert Camel Tour should be up to three days or more but for the sake of this trip, they chose the shortest route just to see around. They had kid with them so it was impossible to make them ride and camp for three days or more.

 The sky is clear and vast, it was a peaceful journey only the friction of camel footsteps against the sand could be heard. Once in awhile they heard others chirpy voice awing at the picturesque view around them, there was no doubt it offered them an astounding sight. It was dreamy.

 Taehyung would request to stop along the journey whenever he found a place that worth Vante photography time. He would act like a real professional photographer and insisted one of the members to become his unpaid model. Those members would be either Kim Namjoon or Jeon Jungkook. If he was in luck, Min Suga would offer hand to help but Vante preferred a photogenic human like Kim Namjoon.

 Even though when at times Namjoon refused to comply to his request, Jin would step in but Taehyung would politely rejected him. He defended himself by saying Jin is too popular for his shot and too handsome which later offend Namjoon. Oh well, he didn’t mean it that way sometimes Kim Taehyung had a weird way in expressing his thoughts.

 Mind you, Park Jimin survived all those years with him. He is Kim Taehyung after all.

 Two hours of ride, it finally came to an end. Indeed, it was unforgettable experiences for everyone. They had chance to explore magnificent desert landscape and most importantly it was once in a lifetime kind of thing.

 They ended up at the other end of the pit stop, and as everyone was ready to leave the place to be transferred back to the entrance, a loud shriek froze everyone. They were looking for the direction of the voice only to be welcomed by Hoseok second attempt of girly shriek.

 “Ew, what’s that” Yoongi tilted his head curiously.

 “IT IS CAMEL POOP” the maknae widened his eyes and his gasp soon turned into a smug. In this situation, it was hard not to laugh because Hoseok’s right leg was dipped inside the filthy sticky thing. Yeoul clasped hand over her mouth tried not to barf.

 Jin cringed giving him a disgusting look “Jung Hoseok.. the camel has claimed you as his soulmate” he teased. The tour guide quickly went to Hoseok side, offering help to get rid of the large camel poop engulfing his leg.

 Namjoon shuddered “That is gross, oh god. I cant unsee that now” with that he turned his head to other side with a playful whistle.

 “Disloyal brats” Hoseok mutter under his breath as he continued to get the large stain off his leg and pants.

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This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

[veliseraptor]

if u ever in the mood - re: will to live; from loki's pov, what happened when thor left and how did the grandmaster comfort him? :O the part where thor came back and found him all drugged was heartbreaking!!

and here you are, anon, a long time later, because sometimes patience is rewarded? this kind of all exploded out of me at once, which I guess…could be good or bad. we’ll see! judge for yourself.

Hope to Die, 2.2k, loki pov, frostmaster, takes place during chapter 2 of will to live, some detailed descriptions of loki’s death, dubcon/noncon depending on your mileage but slanting toward the latter so uh mind the gap

Loki paced back and forth for a long time after slamming the door, sustained by the force of his simmering temper. How dare Thor, how dare he drag Loki back to this hell and then walk away, treating him like - like Loki had said, a pet, to be kept and called for at whim, there when wanted and kenneled out of sight when not. Except in this case the kennel was Sakaar and he was not alone enough.

Fine. Fine. Let Thor do as he pleased. Loki didn’t need him here, didn’t want him here, and if he expected Loki to sit still and wait for him like a wife with her husband at war then–

Then he was wrong.

The anger burned out slowly. He still tired quickly, his body still weak, his magic working in fits and starts if at all. The Grandmaster had healed him - mended his flesh, pulled his soul out of Valhalla and shoved it back in, and while the join felt less raw than it had it was still as though the two were adjusting to being reunited. Sinking down onto the bed, Loki stared at the closed door.

He’d half expected Thor to barge in after him, but perhaps he’d learned something about self-restraint. Loki considered opening the door himself, going back out to try speaking again with a cooler head, but he didn’t want to. Just once he wanted Thor to be the one to back down, to apologize. Didn’t he deserve that much?

Loki swung his legs up and lay down on the bed, his back to the door. Staring at one of the large windows, the knowledge seeped into him that he couldn’t keep Thor here. That there was nothing he could do to hold him. In the end, he was powerless. Don’t come back, he’d said in his rage, but what if Thor really didn’t?

He could leave Loki here. Alone.

Loki stood up and took two lurching steps toward the closed door before he stopped himself, clenching his fists at his sides. No. He wasn’t going to cave. Wasn’t going to go groveling and pleading to Thor’s feet. He had enough shreds of dignity left for that. If Thor left - if Thor left, he would be fine. He could manage on his own. He’d done it before, and he knew better what to expect, now.

And besides, Loki told himself, Thor wouldn’t. He’d brought Loki back to life, whatever Loki thought of that decision and its cost. He wouldn’t walk away now and waste the effort he’d put in.

(Unless he feels his duty completed with your resurrection. Unless he finds you more inconvenient than you’re worth. It’s as you said: he loves you better dead and idealized than alive.)

Loki shoved that away and stalked back to the bed, flinging himself onto it and closing his eyes. It didn’t matter. Whatever Thor did, Loki would be fine. There was, it seemed, nothing he couldn’t survive.

Even death.

**

“Loki,” Frigga said, her embrace warm, and he could even smell her familiar scent. He folded into her arms, almost buckling, and if he could might have wept. “My love.”

They were sitting beside each other in a facsimile of her garden in Asgard, shimmering and golden. She let go of him and he sank to the ground, leaning his head against her knee, and said, “I’m sorry. I should have…”

“Hush,” she said softly. “It’s over now, sweetheart. Let it all go. No ills can touch us here.” She smiled at him, soft and warm. “You’re safe.”

It had been so long since he could truly believe those words. Oh, he’d come close, during his brief reign, but it was nothing like the feeling that swept over him now: sweet relief, peace, a sweeping away of the burdens that he’d scarcely realized he’d still been carrying.

“You are forgiven,” Frigga said. “And you are home.”

He opened his eyes. For a moment he just laid there, trying to hold on to the feeling of peace, snatching at the memory of warmth, but it slipped through his fingers like water and flowed away. Already, he could barely remember what Frigga had said.

Loki glanced toward the door, but it was still closed, undisturbed. He stood up, slowly, and walked over, opening it just a crack, weakness overcoming him. He needed to see Thor, at least. He did not need to forgive him, but he needed to see him.

The room was empty. Thor’s door was open. The axe leaning against the wall was gone.

Loki’s stomach plunged. He strode across the room to the open door and clicked on the light, but the bed was untouched. His heart started pounding, his breathing quickening.

What had he said? I don’t want you here. I don’t need you here. Don’t bother coming back.

No, he thought, with sudden wild terror. No, no, no. Thor wasn’t gone. He hadn’t - left. He’d gone out, venting his anger somewhere, and he would come back.

But it had been hours. The axe was gone that he would use to bring him back to Midgard. Loki pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, fighting back the urge to vomit from the terror that swept over him. Thor had left him here, without saying a word, and the last thing Loki had said to him was to tell him not to return.

Maybe it’s best if we never see each other again, Thor had said, the last time they were on Sakaar, and after the performance Loki had put on it seemed he must have shrugged and come to the same conclusion. Thor had left and he was weak and alone in an ocean full of sea serpents.

Thor, Loki thought with sudden, awful certainty, was never going to return.

He stumbled over to a chair before his knees buckled, shaking, trying absorb the fact of it. Thor had left him. Dragged Loki back to life and then left him like a troublesome dog–

You told him to leave. Can you blame him for not wanting to be here, with you, wretched creature that you are?

Loki tugged on his own hair, rocking back and forth and trying to catch his breath. Maybe, he thought, maybe he was wrong. Maybe Thor was coming back, would come back. Whatever business he had on Midgard, he would take care of it and return - or maybe this was a punishment. Anger flared up again at that thought; if Thor thought he could make Loki do as he pleased like this then he was going to rue it.

(If he came back now you would weep for relief and cling to his feet begging him to stay.)

His chest just kept tightening. His one safety, his one thread in this wretched life he’d been brought back to - gone.

The small whimper was far from intentional, but it came out anyway. Please, he thought. Please, Thor. I take it back. Just…

“Oh, dear,” said a horribly familiar voice. “Sweetheart, honey…what’s the matter?”

Loki’s breathing snagged and he fell very still. “Grandmaster,” he said, and hoped the breathlessness of it didn’t sound like the fear it was. “I - wasn’t expecting you.” Had he done something, he wondered wildly. Attacked Thor, hurt him?

“I do like to surprise you.” Hands fell on Loki’s shoulders and squeezed; he tensed so he didn’t jump. “Did someone upset you, kitten? Hurt you? Tell me who it was and I’ll take care of it.” He paused. “Where’d that brother of yours go?”

Loki swallowed hard. He didn’t dare try to pull away. “I’m not certain. I woke up and he wasn’t here.”

“Is that what’s getting to you?” The Grandmaster asked. He sounded a little incredulous. “Are you - oh! You’re worried, that’s sweet. Well, he’s all right. Or he was when that rainbow showed up and swept him off. Not so much as a by your leave.” He huffed. “So rude.”

Rainbow showed up. The Bifrost now channeled through the axe? If the Grandmaster was telling the truth…and he might not. He could easily be lying. But it sounded like truth. The air shuddered out of Loki’s lungs. “Oh,” he said faintly.

“I have to say - I mean, I know he’s your brother, but good riddance.” The Grandmaster’s thumbs rubbed in little circles on his shoulders. “What a buzzkill. I feel like he’s just really getting in the way of…well, us.”

Loki’s throat closed. “Grandmaster, I don’t think I’m…”

“Ready for aerobic activity?” The Grandmaster laughed. “That’s fine, doll. Though not - uh, not too long, right? I’ve been so patient but I can’t wait to, um, pick up where we left off.” He started to slide his fingers up Loki’s shoulders toward his neck and he jerked away involuntarily, lurching to his feet and whirling. His head spun and for a moment he could feel pressure on his windpipe. The Grandmaster looked a mixture of surprised and offended.

“Wow,” he said after a heavy moment of silence. “Wow. That was, uh…”

“I’m sorry,” Loki said quickly. “I wasn’t…it’s only that.” He swallowed hard. “Given…what happened to me, it’s…my neck is a tad - sensitive.” The Grandmaster blinked at him and then understanding seemed to dawn.

“Oh!” he said. “Oh, right. The–” He gestured vaguely at his own neck. “It was pretty gruesome.”

Fighting for air as Thanos’s fingers tightened around his throat. The crunch of his trachea followed by a crack, agony, nothing. Loki felt sick and held his breath so he didn’t vomit on the carpet.

“Duly noted!” the Grandmaster said cheefully. “Now let’s…let’s get you out of here, hmm? Take your mind off things. You look a little pale. I’ve got something that’ll pick you right up.”

Thor had been the one and only buffer between him and the Grandmaster. And now…he wasn’t bothering to hide the hungry way he looked Loki over like a piece of meat he looked forward to devouring. If not tonight, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after. He knew how this went. And there was no prospect of escape.

Nothing but Sakaar, and the Grandmaster, for the rest of his life.

Hysteria bubbled up that he just managed to gulp back down. “perfect,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’ll have whatever you give me.”

The Grandmaster smiled. “There you are,” he said. “That’s more like it. That’s what I like to see.”

**

Thor was gone for three days, four, before Loki admitted even to himself that he really was never coming back.

It was easier than Loki thought it would be to fall back into old habits. Or not precisely old habits. Previously he’d been careful, or tried to be. Stayed as sober as he could manage without being conspicuous. Plotted. Planned. There’d been a purpose, a goal.

Now…

There was no use in moderation. And an acute and overwhelming desire for oblivion. Not death - he doubted he would be allowed that escape. But if Sakaar was good at anything, it was finding ways to avoid having to think.

The Grandmaster circled him like a wild dog eyeing its weakening prey

“Try this,” the Grandmaster said, holding a small fluted glass, half full of something the same lurid blue as the stripe under the Grandmaster’s lip. Loki took it, and the Grandmaster smiled at him. “It’ll be fun! Drink up.”

There was a disconcerting gleam in his eye. “Is this you grown tired of waiting?” Loki asked.

“Tired of waiting? No, of course not!” The Grandmaster shook his head. “So suspicious. No, this is just…to make sure you enjoy yourself. I know you’ve been so…stressed.”

Loki swirled the liquid in the glass.

He emptied the glass in two swallows and tilted his head back. His smile felt false, forced, but he held it just the same. “Thank you, Grandmaster,” he said. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

“I know!” the Grandmaster said. He stepped toward Loki and reached out, brushing his fingers against his cheek. “You know…we don’t have to go to the party. We could just…stay here and have some, mm, quality time. What do you think, honey?”

For a wild moment Loki imagined refusing. Imagined saying that forbidden word: no.

The Grandmaster smoothed his hands down Loki’s side and pulled him toward him. “Say yes,” he said, teasing, not teasing at all.

Something in Loki’s core snapped and went numb. “Yes,” he said, and didn’t try to make it sound like real assent. The Grandmaster’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that,” he purred, and kissed Loki, steering him back toward the bed. He went limply, letting the Grandmaster steer him, casting his thoughts far away.

This body was barely even his, anyway. He didn’t need to stay for this. Didn’t need to know the particulars of what the Grandmaster would do to him this time.

The Grandmaster pressed Loki down on his back, hands moving down to his thighs. Loki half-closed his eyes and imagined standing on the bridge of the Statesman, Thor at his side. I think everything’s going to be all right, Thor said, and put an arm around Loki’s shoulders.

Thor was gone, Loki reminded himself. He was on his own.

It was a relief when the drink took effect, plunging him headlong into an ecstasy that wiped all thought away.

[janiedean]

I know ur busy celebrating kit and rose's wedding (like the rest of the world), but would be able to tell me how realistic missendei's language skills are, and what her limitations would be? Like, would she be able to understand different dialects and regional slang of languages, or people with really heavy accents, and would she understand the meaning of phrases like 'break a leg' that mean different thing to what they say? (Idk how to put it) 1/2

2/2 Also how do u think missendei learned each new language? From native speakers or from other translators? And also (this could be my own language learning experience) how would she have become so good if she hadn't practiced the language in its country? (FYI I'm learning Indonesian, I did great in class, went on exchange and couldn't understand more then a few words in conversations on the street and w native speakers). Also what kind of knowledge of each culture would missendei posses?

well I’m not an interpreter and I’m not the greatest missandei expert ever but, first of all let’s make it clear that she has a different background for show and books, ie c/p-ed from the show’s wiki:

Missandei was born on the island of Naath in the Summer Sea, off the coast of the continent of Sothoryos. She was enslaved at a young age and taken to Slaver's Bay in Essos, where she was eventually put to work as an interpreter for the slaver-master Kraznys mo Nakloz, one of the Good Masters of Astapor.Missandei speaks nineteen languages including High Valyrian (her favorite), the Low Valyrian dialect of Slaver's Bay, Dothraki, the Common Tongue of Westeros, and has some knowledge of the functionally dead language of the Ghiscari Empire.

in the book she knows the common tongue, high valyrian, bastard valyrian and ghiscari, which is a lot less than nineteen. now, there’s people who speak more or at least know more than nineteen - I looked it up and there’s an american linguist who apparently has knowledge of at least sixty - but realistically:

if you count dialects as different languages or so on it’s absolutely possible that she knows that many - I mean, if she knows two different valyrians she might know other variations. that said, in the book again she knows four one of which is a dead language and like.... I know italian, mother tongue english, I can more or less translate two dead languages and I read french, we’re pretty much there and I’m not that much of a language coinnesseur X°D

that said when it comes to how much: if she learned through reading and not listening (obvious case for the dead language..) then she most likely would know more sayings (ie break a leg) than be good at accents because you have to hear the latter while you can figure out the former but again, I learned english 50% on springsteen/bon jovi and 50% on stephen king and at fifteen I knew more maine slang than the british english I did at school, it depends on your sources so if missandei learned it on books that had sayings in them or from people who spoke that certain slang she’d pick it up;

how she learned: well both wikis agree on astapor’s old maesters so most likely she went to school with them which means that she had a premium education and access to good books/a lot of reading material so most likely mostly books and she prob. had the same teachers apprentice maesters had;

knowledge of culture: again, depends on what she learned/got in contact with.

meaning, I’m using myself as an example because it works for this context and also replies to your ‘but how about contact with the natives’ question: my english is currently C2 - ie, same as a mother tongue - and I never in my life had regular contact with english natives outside the internet. I learned everything a) reading books, b) translating songs, c)  watching movies without the dub, d) reading/writing fanfic. I didn’t need to have contact directly with english people because I was covering it with other stuff - okay, admittedly my accent sucks ass because I didn’t have practice there but it still wasn’t enough to fuck over my CPE vote since I got out with an A anyway X°D and like: I read/consumed mostly american media and by the time I was sixteen I had a probably enviable background in a) new jersey state-specific culture, b) maine and new jersey slang, c) nebraska’s geography (REALLY blame springsteen for that), d) vietnam war basic facts AND vietnam war-related slang, e) certain specific brands of humor that’s not funny outside nyc, f) a lot of other weirdly specific stuff that was tied to US culture. on the other side, since I wasn’t dabbling in the UK side of it, I wasn’t that knowledgeable on the topic, which meant that if I watched a US movie I most likely understood most characters whichever accent they had unless they were speaking heavy slang, if I watched idk full monty I didn’t understand shit and I still find british accents way more complicated than american accents. also, when I started watching the wire I couldn’t understand 70% of the lingo, five seasons later I could probably get by in baltimore if people spoke slang-ish to me. and so on. it all depends on what you’re exposed to. if I got into english thanks to idk doctor who and/or dunno some british band, OASIS?, I probably would know more about britain/the uk than the US and instead the only thing re the UK that’s not like political that I’m 100% sure I have a full background on when it comes to cultural stuff is the state of record shops in the 90s and a few stuff about football clubs thanks nick hornby I love you for that. anyway: you can absolutely learn someplace’s slang, culture and nuances without ever setting foot there, it depends on where you learn the language, so if she was exposed to it or some when it comes to those languages, most likely. otherwise she most probably has a scholarly knowledge and so she wouldn’t know the specifics or the accents, but it depends on how she learned it of course. but you can absolutely become v. good at a language without being in that country X°D I mean I never set foot in an english-speaking country for more than three weeks on vacation and I’ve never been to the US, hasn’t stopped me from - according to the internet - pronounce like someone from nj and have a word choice like someone from maine apparently X°D

tldr: she’s good because she practiced a lot most likely, and had a top notch instruction for westeros and had a gift for languages. but if we go with the book version it’s absolutely normal to know three/four languages (again, for one my mother had this colleague in bruxelles who was italian with a french wife, but the kid was gonna have to learn english in school and also dutch/flemish since they lived in belgium, so that kid most likely spoke four languages currently by the time he was fifteen X��D) and if we go with show version nineteen is a bit much but absolutely doable especially if some are variations of others. :) hopefully this was clear XD

(also: watch a lot of indonesian movies without a dub and translate by hand indonesian lyrics/music, might sound stupid but for me it worked wonders ;) )

[oncexinxmyxdreams]

The Sorcerer and the Gardener

(I know I used something like this years ago, but since I can’t find the original, I’ll just use this one.) https://www.deviantart.com/catastrotaffy/art/Blank-Character-Bio-Sheet-90733420

SPOILERS AHEAD! 

Full name: Lilah Ashbrook Pronunciation: Reads as it looks.  Nickname(s) or Alias: She used to be called “Darling Girl” all the time by her mother, but she detests it. Other than that, if she let anyone grow close enough to her, she wouldn’t mind being called Li for short. Just don’t call her Redhead!  Gender: Female.  Species: Human.  Age: 32 (currently.)  Birthday: December 14th.   Sexuality: Straight.  Nationality: Immigrated to Enchancia, but won’t reveal where she’s originally from. (It’ll be revealed over time.)  Religion: Not sure. (Would there be a religion in Sofia the First? Not touching that.)  City or town of birth: Can’t tell yet. ;)  Currently lives: Outskirts of Dunwiddie in a cottage.  Languages spoken:  English (Simple Tongue I’d call it.)  Native language: Relationship Status: Single (and still recovering from a bad relationship.)   PHYSICAL APPEARANCE Height: 5′8′’ (At least two inches shorter than Cedric.)  Weight: 150 pounds.  Figure/build: Spoon shaped; defined waist, thick upper thighs, “shelf” hips; average chest; strong arms. She used to be lean and athletic in her late teens and early twenties. Has a snub nose, diamond shape face, and slender fingernails.       Hair color: Dark red.  Hairstyle: Waist-length and layered. Its usually pulled in a low ponytail, but she’ll do a low bun or braid too. She will use a dark green ribbon for design.   Facial Hairstyle: Eye color: Steel-blue.  Skin/fur/etc color: Tattoos: She has ones covering her arm; they’re in a foreign writing (Old English Runes) and detailed script. She has a dragon on her back; it nearly covers all of it. She dislikes these, but particularly hates the ones on her hands; they’re brand tattoos as punishment (used with a hot iron.)     Piercings: Scars/distinguishing marks: Preferred style of clothing:  Frequently worn jewelry/accessories: Three necklaces: an old fashioned key; a compass that was her brother’s and a locket that belonged to her tutor/father figure (Atticus.) She always wears these under her blouses.  HEALTH Smoker? Used to be in her late teens.  Drinker? Heavy drinker. Is trying to change that.   Recreational Drug User? Which? Addictions: Alcohol.  Allergies: Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities:  PTSD from after her brother’s violent death.  Any medication regularly taken: PERSONALITY Personality: Resourceful, hardworking, witty, modest and warm-hearted. Sometimes can be judgmental, but always willing to admit her mistakes. Struggling from insecurity thanks to bad decisions she made before and too nervous to admit them to anyone.   Likes: Nature, rain, books about flowers, sweets, and having a good night’s sleep.  Dislikes: Fancy gowns, being called “redhead,” animals ruining her gardens and sorcerers. (She’s improving on the latter thanks to Cedric.)       Fears/phobias: Nightmares, rejection and blood.   Favorite color: Its a tie between blue and green. 

Hobbies: Gardening and card games.   Taste in music: Fiddle music.  SKILLS Talents/skills: Wisdom about botany. Used to play the fiddle as a child. Skilled with living in the wilderness.    Ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles? EATING HABITS Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore (Vegetarian): Omnivore, but can only make stew, porridge, eggs, sandwiches and cookies.  Favorite food(s): Potato Soup.   Favorite drink(s): Early Grey Tea.  Disliked food(s): Broccoli.  Disliked drink(s): Prune juice.    HOUSE AND HOME Describe the character's house/home: Current home is a cottage outside of Dunwiddie. It’s white with a grey slanted roof and a dark blue door.  It has a loft bedroom which should’ve been made into a whole second floor by the original owners. the whole cottage inside is simple, but comfortable as Lilah appreciates that lifestyle. She has different flowers, three of her favorite being roses, daisies and lilacs planted in her huge yard. She also has pansies in little pots and croci along with a herb garden. The whole property is surrounded by a beige fence.      Do they share their home with anyone? Who? Just with her gerbil named Kipling. He’s not that bright, but he’s got a big heart and an even bigger appetite to go with it. .. Significant/special belongings: Has her brother’s old bows and arrows along with an old coat of his that she now wears. She also has an old book that belonged to Atticus’ wife. Her three necklaces are significant as well.

CAREER

Level of education:

Basic mathematics, spelling, reading and writing. After a certain age, children in her hometown were given their jobs. However, Atticus taught her extra lessons because he knew she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life with a low education. 

Qualifications:

Work ethic, self-taught and determination.  

Current job title and description:

The Royal Gardener. 

Name of employer:

King Roland the II. 

COMBAT

Peaceful or aggressive attitude?

She will be aggressive if necessary but she hasn’t been in self-defense in years which was common in her hometown. She hasn’t had any problems since she left home.  

Fighting skills/techniques:

Was taught basic fighting with swords and arrows, but wasn’t good at these.  

Special skills/magical powers/etc:

Weapon of choice (if any):

She does carry a small knife in her boot if there’s danger or if she needs anything cut. 

Weaknesses in combat: Will become uneasy if there’s blood spilled. 

Strengths in combat:

FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FOES

Parents’ names:

Irene and Dunstan. Both ended up having a bad relationship with Lilah, particularly Dunstan always being so cold to her.   

Are parents alive or dead?

Dead. 

Is the character still in contact with their parents?

Even if they were alive she wouldn’t want to be in contact with them. 

Siblings? Relationship with siblings?

One older brother; Ephraim. He didn’t like being an only child and was excited to have a sister even if there was a ten-year age gap! They were close since their parents were always working so Ephraim pretty much took care of her. When Ephraim died, Lilah was shattered. She was told that he was mauled by wolves, but a decade later realized he was murdered. As an adult, her conscience comes as Ephraim’s voice and she’s especially weepy on his birthday and death date Sometimes she feels hurt and jealous to see siblings hugging each other since she still missed him. 

Other Important Relatives:

Grandmother: Jocasta a.k.a. Gran. She was a tough older lady that Lilah wasn’t close to, but she knew her granddaughter wasn’t being raised properly and insisted on getting her help. On her deathbed, she regretted not being kinder and wondered about her grandson’s death. Atticus: a tutor that came along to help Lilah after Ephraim’s death though her parents treated him like a babysitter. Being a widower and having lost a child himself, he grew to see Lilah as the daughter he never had. After seeing how he was a better father than her own, Lilah called him Dad.

Partner/Spouse:

Not yet...

Children:

Best Friend:

Cedric’s slowly becoming one. Other than that, she was lonely except for her brother.  

Other Important Friends:

Lilah and Calista already get along well which predicts a bond between them. 

Acquaintances: 

Pets:

A black gerbil named Kipling. 

Enemies? Why are they enemies?

Old hometown was ruled by a council that convicted her of conspiracy and treason. They left iron brandings on her hands for punishment. There was also a wicked sorceress that helped with dark magic to hypnotize people into crime. Lilah was forced under the dark magic to harm the enemies of her hometown and she never knew what happened until much later on. 

BACKSTORY

Describe their childhood (newborn - age 10):

Lilah’s childhood was happy. She was rambunctious, but affectionate. She had Ephraim to play with and even when he was off practicing archery, she would wait patiently for him. When her parents were around, her mother would coddle her while her father gave her treats so he could be alone. 

It all changed on February 1st when Ephraim died, changing the family dynamic forever. Lilah was only 10 years old. Months later, she met Atticus who was enlisted to be a teacher for her. Seeing that her parents and distant grandmother weren’t providing the best care for the grieving child, Atticus found himself taking full charge which Lilah hated. Slowly, she grew to like him and she started to improve emotionally and academically under his tutelage.  

Describe their  teenage years (11 - 19):

At this time, Lilah knew Atticus for about a year and considered him her friend. Even when given the chance to find another job, Atticus stayed because he was concerned for her. Also due the fact, he had lost a child, he was starting to see Lilah as his own. Some years later, at 14, Lilah was put in with the army as tradition, but survived. Afterwards, she was forced into work as a blacksmith where she grew stronger physically. Atticus made sure to teach her academics on the side to sharpen her mind since he thought she deserved a good education. She officially saw Atticus as a better father figure since her own emotionally and mentally abused her. She started calling Atticus Dad and called her biological parents Mother and Father, but not with much kindness. When Lilah was 16, her grandmother, Jocasta, passed away, leaving a seed of doubt in Lilah’s mind about Ephraim’s death. (Jocasta muttered on her deathbed about why Ephraim died because it didn’t make sense to her.) 

There’s other things that happened, something particular when she was 18, but that’ll be revealed in the story. What she didn’t know at the time was that the council wanted full power over all kingdoms, big and small and were willing to do anything to achieve it.      

Describe their  adult years (20+):

Around the age of 20, Lilah began to speculate more about Ephraim’s death thanks to the final words of Gran. She spent any spare time she had trying to piece together any theories and clues. Also she was put under dark magic from a sorceress to follow orders to attack neighboring cities who knew nothing about her home. Lilah wouldn’t remember a thing and would describe it to Cedric as being overly drunk after many stiff drinks. At 22, she found out Ephraim’s murderer was family friend who was hired by the council to kill Ephraim. Vowing revenge, she killed him with Ephraim’s own dagger. Afterwards, she was ashamed to realize that her brother never would’ve wished ill will to his murderer. Shortly after, she was possessed again by dark magic to attack a small village, but this time she realized what happened and was horrified. She even discovered that Ephraim was killed for not following orders to attack neighboring villages like her, but it costed him his life. She renounced her hometown and planned to leave. However,  Lilah was quickly arrested and tried by the council in her city for treason and conspiracy for the murder. She was punished with hot branding irons in different letters on both her hands. After that, she covered them with gloves in fear that she’d be discovered. Right when she left her home, Atticus died, leaving her heartbroken again, but encouraged by him to find a new life.  

She spent years wandering alone, knowing that her home had destroyed itself in another war. She went from kingdom to town looking for a new place and new life. She took an interest in gardening since it wasn’t common back in her old home and she was enjoying nature. Through trial and error, she learned how to garden and eventually found an abandoned cottage outside of Dunwiddie where she was found her gerbil, Kipling and would avoid people the best she could. Anyone who passed by, she would immediately send away due to fear of her past catching up with her. Yet that changed when she was 32 and Sofia showed up having heard about her and knowing her family was looking for a new gardener. Lilah begrudgingly decided to do it, but found that she liked it. She met Cedric and was quickly attracted to him despite her prejudice about sorcerers. However, she found herself growing more fond of him over the next months as a person. As of currently in the story, she’s debating on if she’s really falling in love with him and is certain he wouldn’t feel the same, especially since she considers herself “damaged” from her past. .    

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs SAO S1

The real question is how no one has arrested this game creator yet 

There are only two types of game players those who create their avatars to look as much like them as possible and those who want to be a pretty princess 

“2,000 people have died so far” well that escalated quickly

Lmao @ Kirito’s group-work anxiety same my guy same

I don’t trust Blue Haired Knight he is hanging back at the rear while everyone else fights 

Well he’s dead now so I suppose it’s irrelevant

I like that Kirito was phased by the fact his partner was a pretty girl for about five seconds before he was calling out battle tactics

Jesus Kirito went from plucky young boy to Edgelord in ten seconds

“Are you talking about suicide?” “That’s not such a bad idea” I mean... u right

I can’t be the only one wondering what’s happening to their bodies while they’re spending literal months in this game unable to eat or defecate

How do u think Kirito’s mum would feel about him sleeping in bed with girls

Kirito made friends and they all died so quickly yikes 

All of Kirito’s decisions are made so abruptly he decided to adopt Silica out of nowhere

Nice to know romance isn’t dead in the virtual reality hellscape

Things are so happy right now I’m sure everything’s about to go terribly fucking awry

Apparently Kirito is a bounty hunter now these time lapses are wild

I can’t believe Asuna is taking Kirito on a date in exchange for letting her nap

Grimlock is a name that screams evil but I’m honestly more suspicious of Yoriko

It seems me being suspicious of someone means they’re immediately going to die lmao

Nope I was correct the first time whoops

“How many times you been married anyway?” Kirito pls 

“I had to kill her while she was still my wife” calm down Othello

Kirito, explaining marriage: “If you marry someone, that means you already like whatever you know about them, doesn’t it? And if you discovered something you didn’t know about them before and fell in love with that too, then that would be awesome?”

Dfghjkfhgkjdhgksd;hf

Lisbeth: Brr it’s cold

Kirito: Well damn Lisbeth I can’t control the weather

But if Asuna has a date and it’s not with Kirito who else are these teens romancing 

“Especially if that someone’s a girl like you, Lis” the biggest recurring trope in this anime is that Kirito is inadvertently romantic 

Lis is such a good friend she sees that Asuna likes Kirito and immediately backs down

“It’s been almost two years since this game of death began” yikes how decrepit must your real body be what about your family what if some of these players have children you are a child

These domestic virtual times are sweet but depressing because their lives are a lie

Sfdjhgdfhgkjh does Asuna’s bodyguard have a titty detector that senses when someone is touching her

“Hey, Klein, still alive huh?” Kirito’s social skill are so great

Lmao @ Kirito punching Klein for trying to hit on Asuna even he seemed surprised by it

I appreciate the plot twist of dual wielding because it’s cool but not like unreasonable within the context of the story

I really do not like that Asuna is basically the prize in this duel 

It’s really zero percent surprising that this event turned to murder so quickly

Literally every choice Kirito makes is so abrupt like I know he likes Asuna but he went from reluctantly joining her guild to kissing her and vowing to stay by her side forever in like a day calm down Romeo 

Gfkhgkjdfhgkfhgkjhfkgj Kirito just wanted to hang but Asuna thought he wanted to bang I’m crying

“And then... we’d get married” I know you’ve been in this game a long time but I feel like you are definitely still minors

This show is the definition of that escalated quickly they decided to get married one minute ago and now they have a house in the woods

“Is he younger than me?!” ASUNA I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MARRIED HIM WITHOUT KNOWING HIS AGE WHAT IF HE’S 12 AND YOU’RE 17 AND ALSO IF YOU DON’T KNOW HIS AGE WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE BOY YOU JUST MARRIED

They’ve still got separate beds and haven’t seen each other naked but also I don’t know what I expected they’re like 15 

I can’t believe they’ve just adopted a child this is insane they are really embracing the ‘I do what I want’ philosophy

You can never escape the stranglehold of capitalism even in virtual reality

“Your mom’s crazy strong, isn’t she?” they’ve really embraced their roles as Yuhi’s parents huh

“I’d rather trust her and regret it than not trust her and regret it” what a lovely philosophy Kirito

It’s really cute that they’re like this little family and all but also really fucked up and sad because they’re not her parents and who knows if Yuhi’s even real

Oh my goodness their baby is a robot 

“Remember, you’re our child” this is going to be upsetting

Did they just promise to recreate their robot baby christ how do you plan on raising her

“Nice job, honey,” this is so funny he’s so proud of his wife the fish slayer

Finally addressing the reality of their decrepit comatose bodies

I knew we couldn’t trust Captain Cheekbones 

I’ve never heard “I promise I’m gonna end this world” said in such an optimistic tone

Whoa they’re both dead that is not where I thought this was going but I guess they went full Romeo and Juliet huh

Well this plot twist makes a lot more sense also how is no one in this hospital stopping Kazuto from escaping the hospital surely a nurse notice him flatline

Is this intro meant to imply that these guys continue to play MMO games after their extremely traumatic two year comas

How exactly did Kazuto explain his relationship with Asuna to her family

Is Asuna’s father going to marry off his comatose daughter?? Surely there are laws against this 

“If I proposed and she could speak, I’m pretty sure her answer would be no” WHAT THE FUCK 

Kazuto makes it sound like she’s just moving away instead of being married against her will while in a coma 

“In the end your heart belongs to her” Is Suguha in love with Kazuto because even if you’re not siblings you’re still cousins ew pls stop

Robot baby has returned

Kirito does not know the meaning of low profile

I am not okay with this cousin-fucking vibe that’s going on Leafa u need to stop

This dude is a fucking rapist I hate him 

How is Kazuto’s education going I wonder considering he just lost two years of his life 

“Do you feel the same way about him?” Obviously not bc she’s too busy wanting to fuck her cousin

Dickface accidentally giving Asuna hope by confirming that Kirito lives

“Did he.... set you that way?” Leafa is asking if Kirito has a daddy kink

This level of drama and dedication to not letting anyone die must not make sense to someone who does not know he was trapped in a life-or-death game coma

It’s funny to see how quickly Kirito has jumped on the killing train now that there’s no longer a danger of actually killing someone

Although with Asuna there it stands to reason that there is potential to hurt someone because there are still some people whose nervous systems are still tied to the game

I can’t believe that Kirito is delaying stopping his girlfriend’s real-life marriage to deal with in-game politics where are your priorities dude 

Kirito as a news anchor: Violence in video games is ruining this generation

Honestly this boy has never been anything less than 200% Extra a day in his life how does he expect to get Asuna if he is causing a ruckus everywhere he goes

Lmao @ everyone hitting on Kirito while he is lowkey thinking about how he’s married 

I can’t wait for Asuna to murder her forced fiance

“Do I want to be a good sister? Or...” do you want to fuck your cousin? It is the latter and it’s unsettling

“I’m in love with my brother, and that’s something I can’t tell anyone about ever” at least you’ve registered that it’s incest but doesn’t mean it doesn’t give me the heebie jeebies still

Without the context it might just seem like Kazuto and Asuna are a weird couple that calls each other mommy and daddy 

I guess Kirito brought a sword to an arrow fight 

“I can do this on my own,” he said immediately after dying

Leafa tried to give Kirito the Hug of Passionate Restraint but instead gave him the Shoulder Grab of “You’re Making a Poor Decision”

Suguha coming to the realization that her life has twice as much incest as she thought it did

I DON’T KNOW WHO IS MORE UNCOMFORTABLE RN ME OR KAZUTO

“I’m sorry” Don’t apologize Kazuto it’s not your fault your sister/cousin wants to bang you

“Right then and there, I swore to close the gap that had grown between us over the last couple of years” looks like that gap was closed a little too well my guy 

That’s a lot of love confessions in a very short time frame 

What are you apologizing for homie literally all you did was exist and be a good human being 

I fucking hate Sugo he is the worst person alive

I think this is the first time I’ve seen someone assaulted on screen in an anime I feel sick to my stomach

What kind of honourable ass shit is this Kirito just gave his enemy a sword

I guess honour only extends so far when you’re tossing someone’s bisected body into the air to impale them

What the fuck are you gonna kill a teenage boy Sugo 

Well if you’re gonna get stabbed a hospital is the best place for it to happen

THIS IS THE REAL WORLD KAZUTO YOU CAN’T JUST KILL PEOPLE YOU DON’T LIKE 

Kazuto should really get those stab wounds treated

Lmao @ these priorities “well you just woke up from a coma it’s time to meet and make out”

Pretending you have objection to PDA Ms. Let’s Get Married at 16

I like how they all come out of the VR world and they’re all still fuckin nerds

Kirito is such a good big brother to his creepy little sister

[mildredsaunder]

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Get Your Ex Back Quiz

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What To Do When Your Ex Wants U Back

[ecotone99]

[MS] The Broken Man

The man who lived down the street, just six houses from us always wore a disappointed look on his face, halloween trick or treating was never fun as he always used to make us run off w/o as much as a dumb raisin. The neighbourhood kids hated him for that very reason, and I was no exception. I wondered often, what could he possibly own that made him so arrogant, so proud, so much so that even socialising with kids was beneath him? As I grew up, it turned out that adults were no exception either. This once I recall, all the adults of the society were to gather around for a meeting to review the rules and regulations of the society, everyone but the man who went by the name of Mr Steadler was in attendance. Noticing his absence, a triplet of the committee members was sent to his house to inquire why couldn't make it to the meet. Being the socialising wizard he was, he wasted no time in belittling the very existence of the committee and the clinginess of the members to get to his house uninvited, invading his personal space, and not letting him be.I remember asking my mom about Mr Steadler and why he was always in such a bad mood, and why he never talked to anyone, adult or child. To my disappointment, my mother had no answer either. It turned out, nobody in the neighbourhood knew anything about Mr Steadler apart from his address, his limping walk, and his charming personality. Being as curious as I was, I made it my mission to unravel the mystery that was Mr Steadler. I began by noticing Mr Steadler's routine for a week. Everyday he used to leave his house at 9 A.M. and return at 11 P.M. He never broke this pattern. At most he deviated for an hour or so but that could have very easily been the traffic holding him up. I also noted that between him leaving the house in the morning and entering it in the night, he never had so much as a grin on his face. I began to wonder if this guy ever really had a good day. He looked like he was about 45, maybe 46 years old, which made this even a sadder mystery to solve, to track the daily routine of a 46 year old man who never experienced a single day of happiness? It was getting depressing, even for a 15 year old. But I wasn't ready to give up just yet, I concluded that if I want to get to the bottom of this, I need to follow Mr Steadler around to know more about him. And so, upon the brink of Sunrise one Monday morning, my journey to become local detective had begun.I woke up early, freshened up quickly and waited anxiously on my bike for Mr Steadler to make a move on with his day. My parents weren't being very supportive of my actions, but like all heroes I knew that if I were to make it, I had to let go of them one day or the other.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mr Steadler came out, locked the door behind him and drove off to wherever he used to drive off to. I followed him, maintaining quite a distance from him. With my helmet on, I was pretty sure it would be difficult for him to recognise me from this distance. I followed him to a mansion located just outside the city. It took us about 4 hours to reach there. Mr Steadler stepped out of his car and went inside the mansion while I stayed behind and set myself up at a nice vantage point with my pair of binoculars to give me a good view of what's happening inside the mansion through its windows. For the next 3 hours what I saw can only be called comedy in its truest form. I saw him cleaning the mansion from top to bottom while a guard kept poking him with a stick, saw him dance for, I'm assuming, the resident kids, saw him getting yelled at by possibly the owner of the mansion while he was on his knees. This was all too funny to miss. But then he did a very peculiar thing just before he left, he went to the adjacent garden, stood there for about 5 minutes and did the most abnormal thing he could possibly do - He smiled. Once he was done making a fool of himself, he got in his car and went off. I assumed we're off to our home and so I got on my bike and followed him from the same distance as before. But I was wrong. He made a turn I didn't recognise. I kept following him for another 90 minutes until we reached a graveyard. This took a dark turn real quick for me. I thought maybe Mr Steadler had spot me and now to protect his image he would take care of me here in the graveyard and dispose off my body in one of the graves. All sorts of horrible thoughts were circling in my head now, how he could use a stick, a hammer, or a jack to knock him unconscious, maybe rape me before killing me whole and then leave my naked body in a hole to rot for eternity? I wanted to run away but then I noticed him getting out of the car, standing at the gate of the cemetery and start crying. He wasn't here to kill me, he was here to grieve. But for whom?As he went inside, I closed in the distance so as to come within earshot of what he was about to say. I finally understood the importance of gravestones at that very moment. He went near a grave which I couldn't make out clearly of whom it belonged to, but I didn't care, all I wanted to do was listen. And so I did. What I heard next brought tears to my eyes. "Hey momma, I'm back. It's been 2530 days since you left. I know I say it every time I come here but I just don't know how to begin talking to you without saying how much everything changed since you left. The mansion in which we used to live in was taken over by dad, he kicked us all out and started his own family, completely abandoning us. Talia fell in love with a guy with connections to the underworld and lost her life to a don who enslaved her for 3 years. When she could no longer live with herself, she cut herself in the middle of a night and those monsters, instead of covering up her body and performing a proper funeral, left her naked cut body to rot in the streets for days until someone found it because of its foul smell. It took some time to identify her but when the media did, it broke me. To see my sister go through that filled me with rage and left me feeling so powerless because there was nothing I could do against these people. After some time had passed since Talia, I met this girl Alice in whom I found comfort. I confided in her and she embraced me with open arms. We went out for a couple of weeks before finding out she was already married to the same don responsible for Talia's murder. Thanks to our similar facial features, it wasn't hard for him to figure out who I was. As soon as he found out, he had me abducted from a fair I was attending and had me in front of a gun's barrel. He gave me two options, either die on the spot or live another day as one of his servants. I don't know why I chose the latter for the former would mean dying once but the latter would be to die everyday. Every single day he makes me clean his massive mansion with a small tooth brush. Everyday I fail to finish even a single floor for which he punishes me by making me stand in water filled with Piranhas. I have lost most of both my feet because of this, his wife, Alice yells at me horrible words just because I'm part Jewish, and keeps reminding me that me and my kind deserved the holocaust and what a whore my sister Talia was. It hurts more to know this is what she thinks of me now that we're over. To humiliate me further, the don would often fuck one of his sex slaves or his wife at times in front of me by tying my cock to a rope hung around a sensitive lever which would unleash the hounds on me should I get hard looking at them have a go at it. Once or twice an incident happened and I still have the scars all over my body. My life has gotten so sad that I'm afraid of making any friends whatsoever, I have to be rude to people, even kids all the time because I know that one little out for my emotions would mean a total breakdown for me, where I'd cry like a baby. Everyday before I leave that horrible mansion, I go over to their garden and smile that at least you guys are no longer here or you'd have it much worse than me. Heh, it's kind of ironic isn't it? Your death making me so sad while at the same time being a blessing. God, if there exists one, does work in mysterious ways, perhaps. I, anyway came here to tell you mom that, I'll be joining you soon. I want you to heat up whatever's leftover from last night because tomorrow I'm coming to you and Talia."Tomorrow he was going to his dead mother and sister? What did that mean? They're dead, how can he -Before I could finish processing that thought, I heard a cracker go off behind me. It was odd for a firecracker to go off at a cemetery. I sneaked a peek behind the gravestone I was hiding behind and saw Mr Steadler's skull all blown into several little pink pieces. The sound I heard wasn't of a firecracker... It was a gunshot.The gunshot had moved me, I didn't know what to do, all I knew was I had to get out of here otherwise it would be I who'd be in trouble. I made a run for my bike and cycled home as fast as I could. It was the longest journey I had ever embarked, from the cemetery to my place. All the events of the day kept going on repeat in my head. I reached home and went straight for a shower. I felt dirty, disgusted, and sad. I couldn't help but breakdown while in the shower. After a while it was difficult to tell how much of the liquid was actually water and how much were my tears. It's been 5 years since that one horrific night, nobody but me knows the tragic life that Mr. Steadler lead and now it's my burden to live out the rest of my days with that knowledge.

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[back-and-totheleft]

After the Fall

In Oliver Stone’s new film, World Trade Center, a rescue worker stands atop a pile of steaming rubble, planning his descent into the inferno below. “I need a medic up here,” he yells. “Anybody a medic?”

“I used to be a medic,” comes a voice from the darkness.

A tiny figure scrambles up the base of the hill like a large bug. As he passes into the light, we see that it’s Frank Whaley, an actor who got his start with appearances in Stone’s Born on the Fourth of July, The Doors and JFK.

“My license lapsed,” the figure says. “I had a few bad years. But I’m good.”

Such is the legacy of Stone — a towering figure in modern film who always seems to be wrangling his own personal demons — that it is almost impossible not to read a scene like that autobiographically. A three-time Oscar winner as both writer (Midnight Express) and director (Platoon and Born on the Fourth of July), Stone has spent much of the past dozen years surrounded by controversy or chaos: His satirical tabloid blitzkrieg Natural Born Killers caused novelist John Grisham to accuse him of engendering real-life murders. Nixon, his oddly sympathetic portrait of the ex-president, eluded liberals and conservatives alike. The jumpy, kinetic editing style he employed in the day-for-noir U Turn and the pro-football pageant Any Given Sunday inspired longtime Stone critic Elvis Mitchell to label the latter “the world’s first ADD epic.”

Then the first of two HBO documentaries (Comandante) on Fidel Castro was shelved for being too sympathetic, while a subsequent portrait of Yasser Arafat (Persona Non Grata) saw Stone’s crew fleeing Ramallah four hours before the Israeli army attacked the Palestinian leader’s compound. (A third film, expected to profile either Kim Jong-Il or Saddam Hussein, was canceled.) He has been arrested twice — in 1999 and 2005 — for DUI and possession of marijuana, respectively. During an appearance at HBO’s “Making Movies That Matter” panel at Lincoln Center in October 2001, he allegedly made inflammatory remarks regarding the September 11 attacks, earning him scorn and ridicule in The New Yorker and elsewhere. Most painfully, when Stone, in 2004, finally realized his 20-year obsession to make Alexander, a sweeping history of Alexander the Great filmed on three continents, the film failed to find a domestic audience.

Now comes World Trade Center, a delicate, contained and extremely powerful evocation of our 2001 national trauma, starring Nicolas Cage and Michael Peña as John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno, New York City Port Authority cops who were miraculously excavated from beneath the glowing rubble of Building No. 7. In an odd way, it brings Stone’s career full circle: His first student film, Last Year in Viet Nam, made at NYU in 1970 (for film professor Martin Scorsese), opens with a panorama of southern Manhattan and what would have been the Twin Towers, except that they weren’t completed until January 1972. But in another respect, World Trade Center may be Stone’s most subversive film yet — a rousing, populist, patriotic adventure story that kicks the legs out from under the right-wing criticism marshaled against him. It could prove the ultimate irony that the bête noire of American conservatives — the man who profiled right-wing death squads in Salvador, My Lai–like atrocities in Platoon, hostile takeovers in Wall Street, the anti-war movement in Born on the Fourth of July and, most notably, the fecund proliferation of Kennedy-assassination conspiracy theories in JFK — may find his most enthusiastic audience among the very partisans who have heretofore decried his lifetime of work. As no less a cultural observer than Mel Gibson said of Stone in the 1997 thriller Conspiracy Theory, “He’s a disinformation junkie for them. The fact that he’s still alive says it all. He probably should be dead, but he’s not.”

In person, Stone has an infectious laugh, seems genuinely engaged and takes the full measure of my questions before answering, at which point his ideas often come so fast they seem to be skipping across the surface of the conversation. He’s also the most fun kind of intellectual, in that he perpetually appears to be trying to figure himself out. Briefly a classmate of George W. Bush’s at Yale, he seems — at least on the evidence of our wide-ranging, three-hour discussion — to have absorbed a good deal more of its freshman syllabus. We spoke at his West L.A. editing suite, where he is currently preparing a three-hour, 45-minute DVD-only “road show” version of Alexander, complete with intermission.

L.A. WEEKLY: Where were you on the morning of September 11, 2001?

OLIVER STONE: L.A. Asleep. My wife put the TV on.

And what did you think was happening?

It was sensational. It was exciting. It was horrifying. It reminded me in its barbarity and ferocity of the French Revolution — the tumbrels, heads falling. And I had feelings of anger in me, and vengeance. I had a fight with my son, actually, because he was much more objective about it: “How do you know? Don’t assume anything. You’re acting like the mob.” But there were other feelings as well. You know, I realize I’m an older person; I’ve seen Vietnam and a lot of death and shit. Oklahoma City was horrible. JFK’s assassination. Watergate. The 2000 election. We’ve been through our times of shit in this country, so this was another version.

World Trade Centeris very powerful — emotionally powerful. I had a very visceral reaction to it.I think it’s obviously the film, but it’s also more than the film — it’s the fact that the subject matter is so loaded. If you make a film about fire jumpers, and a fire jumper comes to see it, he’ll say, “Well, you got this part right, you got this part wrong.’?” With this film, we’re all fire jumpers. It’s also very different from a lot of your other films — it’s gentle and contained and quiet. I’m wondering if you had to devise a different approach because the subject matter was so delicate.

I just want to say first that the way I look at myself — it’s not necessarily in the result — but with every film, I really have made an effort to make each one an island unto itself in this little sea that we go around in our ships. And every island has been a destination, a stop for a period of time. I’ve tried to take a different style for every film, because it’s the story that comes first, and the subject dictates the style. Even with something like Natural Born Killers, which seems very stylistic and eccentric, it’s still the content that I think is valid and important. With this film, certain things presented themselves: Obviously, the sensitivities of everyone involved, but ultimately that’s the sky around the project. With JFK, for instance, there were his children to think of, Jackie was still alive, Teddy Kennedy. Blowing his head off in Dealey Plaza didn’t go down well with them either. But there was a bigger story to tell.

Here we were limited by movement, so we worked out a style by which, methodically, the film would go in and out of light: Light would fight with the dark, or rather, light would try to make it up to the dark. Claustrophobia is an issue with a film like this. I did Talk Radio, so I know that feeling of being on one set the whole time. Also, Born on the Fourth of July: That was a very contained movie, in a way, because we had a young man in a wheelchair in the second half, where there’s very little movement. When I read this script, I said, “How do we make this movie watchable? How do we make the tension manageable for a mainstream audience?”

It may surprise a lot of people that you’re not using a lot of shock cuts, moving around inside the frame — what you’ve termed your “cubist” style.

Well, where can you move in a hole? A hole is limited. Finding the right point of view in the hole is crucial.

You once said about Platoon?, “I felt like if I didn’t do it now, I’m going to forget.” We’re five years out from 9/11 now, and there is much public hand-wringing about whether it’s too soon yet to deal with this subject matter.

I think it’s a bogus question. The consequences of that day are far worse today. More people have died since then because of the war on terror. There’s more war, there’s more fear, and there is constitutional breakdown left and right. Have the good sense to go to the psychiatrist quickly. If you’ve been raped, talk to somebody about what that day itself was like before you build up all this armor.

You pursued this film, correct?

Yes. Petitioned. My agent, Bryan Lourd, a man of taste, said to me, “Look, I read this script two weeks ago — it stays with me, it’s emotional. I don’t know if it will make a dime, I don’t know if I can get it financed, but just read it.” So I read it, and I said, “My God, I never thought of this — to do 2001 this way.” I knew [World Trade Center producers] Michael Shamberg and Stacy Sher. But no one would make it; Universal dropped it at the [proposed] budget. I was doing other things, I wasn’t stopping my life. But then it came back around. Paramount was just coming into being [under new management]. We were very lucky, because that new studio energy was coming in, and they wanted to make it so badly that it happened right away.

And did you talk with the producers about politics — if there would be a political viewpoint that informed the story?

There was no room for it, because John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno were not interested in politics, per se. They don’t talk about politics like you and I do. Their lives are not determined by it; they live according to what is given them. So it never entered into the equation. I loved the script [by Andrea Berloff] as it was. I loved the inspiration of the story. So I vowed to stay inside those parameters.

New York is probably the most liberal city in America, and yet the 9/11 attack has been so politicized, its imagery considered so proprietary, that right-wing skepticism has been mounting steadily against you since this project was announced. A story in The New York Times said the film is being strategically marketed to right-wing opinion leaders using the PR firm that advised the Swift Boat Veterans group. It even quoted the conservative National Review Web site as saying, “God Bless Oliver Stone.”

I knew [the studio] was doing grassroots marketing to everybody — Hispanics, cops, firemen, teachers, church groups. I didn’t know that they had hired a specific firm; I found out that day. I’m pleased they like it, because it goes beyond politics.

Could you foresee a left-wing backlash against the film?

If people on the right are responding with their hearts, I’m all for it. But if they’re making it into a political statement, it’s wrong. Those on the left might say, “Oh, this is a simplified context, and these are simplistic working-class values. You’re not showing a wider political context.” Or secondly, that we’re sentimentalizing the event — which would be unfair, because I think there’s a lot of grit there. But this is a populist film. We’ve said that from the beginning. In our hearts, it was a Frank Capra type of movie. And he didn’t necessarily get great notices.

In an odd way, I was reminded of Preston Sturges Hail the Conquering Hero — a wartime comedy that pokes fun at the notion of patriotism and, by extension, patriotic movies but which, by the end, almost subversively, fills you with this patriotic fervor. I’m wondering if you see this as your “Nixon in China” moment: Only the director of Nixon and JFK could get away with a film where the most heroic character is an ex-Marine who consults with his pastor before putting himself in harm’s way.

That character, Dave Karnes, is an unlikely hero. He goes to church — that’s a documented thing; he checks with his pastor in a born-again church before he goes down to Manhattan. He evaded the authorities. Get it done; that’s a Marine thing. I think you can argue that the Marine is an ambivalent character, because at the end of the movie, this sense of vengeance is what fuels the wrong war in Iraq.

But for him it’s the right war.

For him it’s the right war. That’s correct. I think if you really look at JFK or at Nixon, which are the two political films I did uncensored in my career — which is amazing unto itself — JFK is neither right nor left, and was attacked equally by the left, who did not like the Kennedy figure of 1963. It was done in the centrist tradition of American dissent: It questioned government and the authority of government. So I was taken aback that the right made such a big issue out of it. I suppose, because they were in office [when the film came out]. But they had never done that historically. They would have been on the side of the investigation; [Barry] Goldwater may well have been. JFK was not a bunch of fantasies strung together. It involved an enormous amount of research — as much as World Trade Center, if not more.

You could make the same argument about Nixon. You took the dominant political figure in our lifetime and gave him the Shakespearean treatment his life cried out for.

It was a psychological point of view. The right wing thought it was going to be a hatchet job; instead, it made him a human being. Unfortunately, in my career, I have spoken out between films, and that’s what’s gotten confused with the films themselves. I think the focus has been lost. Somewhere along the line, I guess, I said, “Look: I’m a filmmaker, but I’m also John Q. Citizen, and things piss me off. I have a right to say, if people ask me and they’re interested, what I fucking think.” And that’s the line I’ve always gotten in trouble with. It’s always between the films, if you look at the statements I’ve made. There’s nothing in the films themselves, as far as I know, that’s really offensive politically.

How much of the criticism against you do you think is organized for partisan political gain?

I’ve always wondered that — especially in the ’90s, after the JFK situation. You have to wonder: Will it come out one day in a government file? You hear about those programs from the ’50s and the ’60s. I was so grateful that Michael Moore came along. He helped me.

He seems to enjoy it. Maybe it’s the counterpart to how the left treats Charlton Heston.

Charlton Heston once said in an interview, “People like Oliver Stone would never hire me in the new Hollywood.” And I went out of my way on Any Given Sunday to hire him. I loved him. I said, “Forget politics, I love your character.” Political reputation pigeonholes you, and in a society that’s very busy, it’s an easy way to get rid of having to think too much about people and what they’re saying. I’m a dramatist; I’m a humanist. I protest.

There’s one line in World Trade Center — I think we hear it on a TV monitor in an office at the Port Authority — where the announcer says, “. . . the shock of the explosion that was coincidental with the two towers coming down,” and then you move on to something else. Was the suggestion that an unexplained explosion might have accompanied the towers’ demise the one seed of doubt you intentionally planted in an otherwise apolitical movie?

Well, I think that all reality is questionable, as you know. Frankly, I’m not an expert on that at all. And I haven’t pursued it, because I think the consequences of where we are now are far worse. But even if there was a conspiracy, it wouldn’t change where we are now. We’re into another place, where there’s more war, more terror, more bankruptcy, more debt, above all more constitutional breakdown and more fear than ever before. That’s very serious. And we’re on the edge of possibly something bigger and very dangerous. Richard Clarke’s book [Against All Enemies: Inside America’s War on Terror], at least, is about a true conspiracy that we know existed, of a small group who took over the government and did it their way — manipulated, created the war. It’s 30 or 40 people, right?

Sy Hersh says it’s 11 guys.

It was a conspiracy, and it was basically at the top. It’s Cheney and Rumsfeld influencing Bush. Cheney and Rumsfeld go back to the Ford administration, and when they got their way, they kicked butt. That’s a great story. But that’s not even all of it. When you’ve got a guy like Representative Pete Hoekstra from Michigan, who was a friend of the Bush administration — who had approved of the Patriot Act, the eavesdropping, the taxes, the bank records, all of it — saying in the press that there’s something worse that he’s pissed off about, because they hadn’t consulted him. Something worse? I mean, all the cards are not on the table, right? This is a big story. And we’re living it. How can you write about it? We’re fucking rocking in the boat. It’s like trying to write a great war novel when you might be going into World War II.

Were you at Yale the same time Bush was?

I was in the same class, yeah. I don’t remember him. I was never in a fraternity. I went twice — I dropped out one year and then went back for half of a second year and dropped out.

But at one point Bush requested to meet you, didn’t he?

Yeah, I met him. It was a political breakfast speech here in California at a club, the Republican right wing. They invited me — they’ve always had fun with me, I don’t know why — and it was a big hotel room and a speech about tough love and justice in Texas. He was governor then, around ’98 or so. I swear, I knew in that room on that day that he was going to be president. There was just no question. He had that confidence, and they adored him. There was an organized love for him. He asked for me to come up to the podium and we had a one-on-one. I was in the Bush spotlight — that thing where he stares at you and he gets to know you a little bit.

Assigns you a nickname.

There was one funny line. He knew I’d been in Vietnam. Actually, I didn’t know he’d been at Yale. He told me he’d been in my class; it was a surprise to me. But then he said he’d had a buddy who had been to Vietnam who’d been killed. “Buddy,” he said. It was funny — it was on his mind, he raised it. And it was the way he looked at me: I just felt like, boy, I bet you he’d rather his buddy had come home than me. But he was very friendly, very charming — a very sociable man.

Have you ever thought about going into politics — running for office? Would you consider doing that in a later part of your life?

Not seriously, no.

Orson Welles wrote a weekly political newspaper column during WWII — he was friends with FDR through Sumner Welles, a distant relative of his and a presidential adviser, and at one point he considered running for the Senate from California or his native Wisconsin.

Politics is about raising money and being popular and shaking a lot of hands and spending a lot of time with people. Those are not my strengths. It would be exhausting and would completely destroy my ability to do what I do.

You were pro-Vietnam before you enlisted in the infantry, right? You were fairly conservative?

Yes.

So we could say that you spent the entire 1960s across the political divide from most of what you’ve now come to stand for?

My story is complicated. I did write a novel about being 19 called A Child’s Night Dream. My parents divorced when I was 14, and being the only child, there was no family to go back to. Basically, going to Vietnam was really throwing myself to the wolves. It was a form of rebellion and suicide.

I’ve read a quote to the effect of “I felt like I had to atone for the act of imagination.” Was it actually the failure of the novel that sent you over the edge?

After I left Yale the second time and finished the novel — I was writing the novel instead of going to class, and that’s why I flunked out — my father was supporting me, and that’s an impossible situation: 19 years old, your father is furious at you for the tuition that he’s lost, and you’re living in his apartment trying to finish a novel. It’s like Jack Kerouac moving back home with his mother. But I really believed in it: I was insane with passion. It was the only thing I had. I had no woman friends in my life. I had nothing to support me beyond that. And when that failed, I went into the Army with the idea of “Let God sort it out, whoever I am.” It’s egregious to think that you can be on the level of Mailer or any of your heroes — Hemingway, or Joyce; I was into Joyce heavily at the time.

Part of the fun of watching someone like you working without a net, from a distance, is charting the rises and falls of your career. And sometimes there are films that don’t hit right, that suffer because of the moment or the context — the sky around it, as you put it. I’m thinking specifically of Nixon, which was a commercial failure, but seems to get more sophisticated every time I see it. Or, more recently, Alexander.

I’ve had three big setbacks, in terms of being completely dismissed: Heaven and Earth, Nixon — by many people, at least — and Alexander. On Alexander, it was just devastating, because in America and England, the numbers were so tough. It wasn’t just that people didn’t like it. It was ridiculed. It was destructive criticism. Meanwhile, in the rest of the world we were connecting, we were among the top 20 films of that year in the foreign market. We did better than four of the five Oscar nominees abroad. It was well respected.

Why didn’t Alexander connect? Do we agree that it didn’t connect with English-speaking audiences?

I like the director’s cut better than the first version, because I had more time to prepare it. And the structure is different. It wasn’t because of the homosexuality — that’s a red herring. The mother’s back story and father’s back story, which are really essential, don’t come in until later. We’re doing a third, expanded version now — we’re going all out. This is not for theatrical; it’s for the people who love the film who want to see more of it. It’s the Cecil B. De Mille treatment — three hours and 45 minutes. What I’m doing is going back and showing the whole thing in its sumptuousness, really going with the concept that it had to be an old-fashioned movie, with an intermission, like a road show. Be a showman, instead of trying to be a responsible filmmaker. Go all out on this one. This is my Apocalypse Now, my De Mille epic. [The first time] I was trying to step up to the plate, so to speak. I should have pulled it back, taken an extra year like Marty did with Gangs of New York. But it would have cost a lot of money.

In Oliver Stone’s America, the documentary included with the DVD box set of your films, you say, “I’ve always admired Alexander because of the momentum and the speed with which he traveled and conquered. In my small metaphoric way, I would say the countries were films, and I moved through them like him . . . he’s striking everywhere. I think it was great. We had a great run. But it’s definitely a new phase.” Is Alexander the figure you most closely identify with?

I am a Method director to a certain degree. I do become part of what I shoot. And I think with Alexander, the perception is of hubris, certainly — “Alexander the Great? Who the fuck is he? He thinks he’s Alexander.” I could see that coming. But I always knew who Oliver Stone was. I never lost track of that. And I made the film humbly, in 94 fucking days on three continents. I ran the crew like I always run the crew. Nothing changed in my habits. I walked in the deserts, we shot in a sandstorm once, and it was the same old Oliver who did Salvador. Hubris is taking 110 days on some stupid comedy. That’s an insult to filmmaking the way I was raised. I’m sticking to NYU principles, and I still do to this day. Movies are a tradition; we didn’t invent it — we take it from somebody else and pass it on.

But with Alexander, you faced a challenge like you’ve never faced before, because no matter how bruising the attacks on JFK and Nixon, your core audience was always still with you. For whatever reason, Alexander failed to connect with an audience.

Yeah. In America.

In America. I don't wish to judge it; this is an empirical observation.

No, it didn't connect. Alexander is the high point of my life, and it always will be. I’m not asking for universal love on that; it’s just impossible. It’s not paced to the American style, nor is he a conventional hero. He’s filled with doubts. But Alexander is a beautiful story, and I think I did him well. I mean, I wouldn’t have released it [otherwise]. But I can’t give up; I would never give up. I would be all wrong in my assessments of myself as I work. You have to hear your own self, follow your own drama, or whatever Thoreau said long ago at Walden Pond. [“Follow your genius closely enough, and it will not fail to show you a fresh prospect every hour.”] Alexander was a huge setback for me, and it certainly hurt me in this business. But you have to understand that people have been saying bad things about me for years. I don’t listen; I have to try to keep going.

I don’t want to make specious connections, but you’ve had several high-profile drug arrests in the last few years. Before that, you were making supernihilist films in an edgy, frenetic style. I'm wondering if these are all moving parts of the same phenomenon.

I’ve smoked dope and drunk alcohol most of my life, okay? Getting pulled over and arrested is a fault, it’s a mistake — a wake-up call. I did get busted a couple of times. One was at a roadblock, so it’s not like I was endangering anybody’s life. The other time, I got pulled over by a civilian cop; I was actually busted for driving too slow. And when the tests came back, I was below the intoxication level. Nobody knows that, because it never got published that way. I should get a chauffeur is what I fucking should do. [Laughs.]

But nobody cares if you smoke pot. They care if it affects the work, if it’s part of a larger problem.

Okay, but I don’t feel bad. I got heavier, physically, at certain points, and I think that gives the appearance of degradation, like Jim Morrison. But I did have a pre-diabetic condition through my mother, and I was on too much sugar. Any Given Sunday, I love that movie, but it was more effort than you think — it was like a three-ring circus, to make five football games in five stadiums work. It took so much energy. There were some problems with the crew on that film. So by the end of that movie, my doctor said I was too stressed, and at my age it was dangerous. There were some issues of medications and stuff, no question about it. But sports people love that movie. With Alexander, there’s a fan site where there are people who have seen it 50 times. They go to the sites in Macedon. They love the romanticism of it. So it’s confusing to me. I’ve tried every fucking time to get it right, even if I haven’t been in my best physical shape. I will get it right. Not everyone is going to agree with me, but I’m going to get it right.

With World Trade Center, it's your first time to deal with studio financing in a decade; you look better, healthier. Has your life changed? Is this a new start?

Your story is a journalistic narrative, and it’s a good one, about Oliver coming back after Alexander, and how there’s a change in his life. And I’ve somewhat agreed with it, but I’ve also pointed out that my methods have stayed the same. But it is about your storyline, in a way — about life. If you go to film school, and you think about your career traditionally, you arc up, in the sense that your budgets get bigger, the stars, whatever. There’s a nice arc to a man’s life. You make your better films later — it’s horrible if you’re Orson Welles, if you make your best film first. And Alexander was a chance to do something on another level entirely. So I reached a peak of ambition. And the ambition was perhaps not matched by my execution, although there are points in the execution that do match the ambition, I think. So then it died a metaphoric death. Point of view died with it, as it died when Heaven and Earth came out. That [movie] was a very sensitive side of myself that I loved — it was tender, and the woman was tender. And it was ridiculed and killed, and part of me, you know . . . those feelings were hurt and eradicated for a while. Same thing with Nixon. You want to get rid of the person after you finish. You want to go back to being who you are, but you’re no longer the same person, because your journey has changed.

And part of me did die [with Alexander] — that part that was enamored of “my very important storyline,” end of quote. Me being the storyline. I played it out. I did all my biographical figures. I have no need to be John or Will. I had a need to be Ron Kovic. I had a need to be Alexander. I had a need to be Nixon and Morrison and Garrison. That’s the change. So now I can be myself, maybe. I can be more authentic to myself. I think there was an attraction to go from the past into the contemporary world in its most hellish moment. It’s like I dropped out and I couldn’t get back in, until by going back to 2001, I could come back into this era. I feel liberated, in the sense that, not that it would be next, but I feel I could do a movie about those next five years. Not that I think it’s complete yet — I think there’s a lot going on that we don’t know about in the government. But I think there’s something in the air. I smell it, and I feel fresh again, having done something — my new, 24-hour, humble microcosm of that day. Wherever I go with World Trade Center, it’s going to spin off to wherever I go next.

-Paul Cullum, “After the Fall,” LA Weekly, Aug 9 2006 [x]

[jillhejl]

Chris Cornell Part 1

I had to be at work early today--7 a.m., for a special process that needed to be done.  As so happens when you need shut-eye, I instead woke up at 4:15 a.m. and couldn't go back to sleep.  At 6, I finally got up, had a message on my phone that the power was down at work and texted my boss on how we were going to proceed.  At the end of our conversation, I took one of my dogs out, came back in, and saw my phone flashing.  She had typed one more message, "Chris Cornell died?"

I replied, "F#*@ what?"

She knew how much he meant to me.

I had last seen Chris play 10 months ago.  He was as fantastic and moving as always.  Cool, both in control and at ease in his banter, singing, and playing.  It was the sixth, and now I know my last, time I saw him in concert.  The first was on the last tour of Soundgarden in the '97.  They opened for the grandfather of grunge, Neil Young.

The next time wasn't until April 11, 2007 at the Metro in Chicago.  It ranks as my #1 concert experience...and let me tell you, I've been to a lot.  I had begged so many people to go with me (can you believe this), and FINALLY my friend Andrea said she'd go.  The concert was sold out, but we got some tickets from a StubHub type place.  I remember when she sent me an email that contained a copy of the ticket.  I swooned.  I printed out that email and carried it around with me in my wallet.  I loved his voice, his music, his looks, his attitude.  I just couldn't believe I was going. Chris had been through Audioslave by then, and he was touring as a solo act.  His hair was short at that time, really showing off his gorgeous face.

I remember what I wore, how my hair was cut, and that it was raining that night.  I was standing next to a guy who had driven up from Champaign from the University of Illinois.  He had a cold, but he was there.  As we stood waiting for him to come out, my heart was pounding, and I felt myself getting jelly legs!  I turned to my friend and said, "I have to go!"  I just was overcome with the moment.  She said, "Turn around, you're not going anywhere."  And I turned around, and one minute later he came out, and cooly said, "How ya' doin'?"

We were only about 10 feet from the stage, and he could survey the crowd easily.  And at one point, truly, he stared right at me with those blue piercing eyes.  I'm sure he held everyone's gaze at some point, but at that moment it was me, and I couldn't breathe.

The most memorable moment was when he sang his version of Michael Jackson's, "Billy Jean."  It was slowed down into a soulful groove and then crescendoed into his sexy wail at just the time the lights flashed an guitars wailed.  I will never forget that moment.  It was one of those times where I was fully IN it, but also was outside of myself with this knowledge of what I was experiencing.  It was out-of-body is all I can say.  You don't get transported like that at every concert.  Truly, there's just a handful.

I saw him 2 more times that year--once when he stripped his sweaty shirt off, and that was a moment we didn't forget.

But let me make it clear--he had physical beauty, yes, but it was that voice...that distinctive voice--hard-edged but tender and feeling, too--that was the true draw.  Henry Rollins once said that Chris Cornell's voice could peel paint off of a wall.  But it was the soulful side of his slower songs and acoustic performances--powerful, painful, rough-edged, expressive--that was the true draw.  He made you feel it.  Robert Plant of Led Zepplin had that influence of the blues mixed in with rock mixed with Middle Eastern music.  He was bluesy, hard and soft.  That was Chris Cornell.

The strangest thing is that I had been listening to Chris nonstop over the last week.  I had been painting late at night, especially last weekend, and I had Chris playing on YouTube.  I love his combination of the music from U2's "One" and the lyrics of Metallica's "One."  Over and over I played it, along with his version of Prince's, "Nothing Compares 2 U" and Whitney Houston's/Dolly Parton's, "I Will Always Love You."  I listened to Soundgarden's, "Fell on Black Days," and Audioslave's, "Getaway Car."  I always loved "Sunshower" from the movie "Great Expectations" etc.  I could list this on and on.  I'm listening to the latter right now, and my heart is in my throat, because he is gone.  He really is gone.

Maybe that powerfully pained voice had to come from a place of some desperation/depression.  I wouldn't have thought Chris would kill himself.  He had been through so many suicides of friends and contemporaries in his life (e.g., Andy Wood--from Mother Love Bone which caused him to form the group Temple of the Dog and which just recently reformed and toured; Layne Stanley; Kurt Cobain, etc.)  No one knows, though, the depth of someone's pain.  There's an article that states him as saying, "it's harder to get help the more famous you are."  I get it.  You're in the public eye.  You supposedly have everything you could ever want.  That's the worst part of depression.  You SHOULD feel o.k. with all you have.  And when you don't, where do you turn, what do you strive for?  What gives you the drive to put one foot in front of the other when you're in pain?

I knew he loved his second wife and children deeply.  I've watched him carrying his daughter Toni around in videos and at concerts since she was a baby.  She looks just like him and has a beautiful voice as well.  He had to be in so much anguish to be driven to what happened last night.

I've watched videos of his last performance in Detroit, and he looks weary, exhausted.  The songs seem very slowed down.  I read somewhere that some insiders thought he had relapsed with alcohol.  He had been sober for about 14 years.  But this is all supposition--you want to know why now, just like with Prince--another irreplaceable voice.  All I know is, he could not have been in his right mind.  Was he weary from playing the same songs after 25 years?  Was the pressure, and inability to get out of something--a tour--pressures from the music industry just too much?  I don't know, and we probably won't.

But Chris, your talent, your voice, we ache for you, and we are crushed.  God bless you.

From 7/11/16 - the last time I saw Chris in concert.

Some of the better articles on Chris:

NYTimeschris-cornell-soundgarden-audioslave-voice

Rolling Stone Magazine Chris Cornell

UK Daily Mail - timeline of Chris Cornell post concert

NYTimes Chris Cornell Dead at 52

GuitarWorld-Chris Cornell's Final Concert

Chris Cornell on Fatherhood

Chris Cornell's Final Red Carpet with Family

LATimes 1991 article w/Chris Cornell on making Badmotorfinger

The one below is something I found after I original blogpost.  The LA Times writer wrote the same thing I did, comparing Chris and Robert Plant and Mideastern Influence.  I guess I heard the same thing they did:

Chris Cornell-A generation lost its Robert Plant

LA Times Obit Chris Cornell

Chris Cornell Interviews Jimmy Page, Part 1