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titlemewickedwonderland · 2 years

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Mr. Sandman (Chapter 5)

Summary: Felicity Burgess, the adopted daughter of Alex Burgess and Paul McGuire lived a sheltered life from the dark secret that lay beneath her feet. But what happens when that secret is now her's to keep? Will her love for her family keep her from doing the right thing or will Mr. Sandman bring her a dream worth sacrificing everything?

Chapter Triggers: Slight cursing.

"All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them." -Walt Disney

Click here for chapter 4

Wonderland's Workshop

If it were not for Johanna Constantine Felicity swore she would have drowned herself in the city of London. She had quite forgotten how the world beyond the gates of the Burgess estate was very much modern. Cell phones, clothing that exposed more skin than was appropriate, and the newest of cars driving down the streets. Everything about the era of London she had stepped into was beyond what she was comfortable with. It had taken her first few months to get comfortable in her new environment. Thanks to Paul's ingenuous idea to send out flyers in the city for a request of a roommate; Felicity managed to find Johanna. Well, more like the woman found her. She was unlike anything Felicity was used to. A few years older than herself but with an air of confidence about her. She was cautious but not unfriendly when the pair had met to discuss details of their establishment for living together. As Johanna was the only one to have answered the flyer Felicity prayed this was a good sign. There was nothing for the girl to fear though, she liked Johanna right off the bat even when she was a bit bold and crass at times. The redheaded teen felt safe with the woman. She didn't know why until a few months after she moved into the small studio apartment that the elder of the two owned.

Johanna Constantine should have been one that Felicity should steer clear of because the woman with the dark brunet hair and darker brown eyes was one who used magic. She was an exorcist of all things; and although she did not need the money for rent thanks to her employers who often doubled or even tripled the lady's fee for her services Felicity was more inclined to think the woman was just lonely despite her bluster and sure cockiness. The teen had sworn that she would never indulge herself in the company of those who practiced magic let alone had some sort of religious infatuation but magic seemed to run through her thanks to the home she used to live in. Mystery, suspense, and magic of all sorts had surrounded Felicity growing up in the Burgess manor after she had legally taken the name so she should not have been surprised in the slightest whenever Johanna had one night confined in her of her practices.

They had shared a bond of understanding. Although, Felicity did not know much about what Jo spoke of a lot of the time she was always keen to listen and soak up whatever information she could and even when so far as to do something nice for the woman if by chance the teen had found something witchy or artifactual during outings in the city that Johanna may have liked and brought it home for her. Most were junk but then there were other times that Felicity would find something unique and magical that Jo would hop straight up on.

They were close, even after 8 months of living together. When Johanna first began noticing the drawings the teen had been sketching she began to tease her but Felicity knew despite her line of work the exorcist would not believe her even if she told her the truth. It was one day that it was raining outside; the raindrops rolling down the glass and casting shadowy rivulets on her paper as Felicity sat curled up on the sofa with a sketchpad in her lap. Her hands smudged with the sooty black chalk of the charcoal pencil she was using to draw the face of a hauntingly beautiful man on the crisp white paper. Johanna had just gotten out of a shower when she noticed the girl still up even this late at night. No lights were on except for a lap in the corner of the room; most of the illumination coming from the moon would peek out of between the stormy clouds.

"What's that then? Got a secret boyfriend you're fantasizing about?" the older woman sat on the arm of the sofa and leaned closer to look. "He's quite handsome."

Felicity's lips curled up in a tired smile as she tenderly rubbed the pad of her finger along one of the brows she was just finishing up detailing. Smudging the dark color to make it look a little more realistic. A soft hum eased through her throat as she studied the face. The face of the man who'd haunted her since the last time she'd seen him. It was funny, for someone who could control and create dreams; he never once ever entered hers no matter how hard she'd dreamed of him. Morpheus was always just out of reach and every morning she would feel lonelier and lonelier until one day she just stopped trying.

"He's not my boyfriend Jo. He's not even human."

"What's that supposed to mean? Do I have to hunt down some supernatural being to protect you know?" the dark-haired individual commented with a raised brow.

Felicity laughed a bit and shook her head as she peered up at her friend. "If you kill the king of dreams you'll ruin humanity." she quipped back.

"What are you going on about?" the other had tsked "You saying this man here is some sort of dream god? Like what, the sandman?" Johanna snorted playfully shoving her shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous."

Felicity's smile faded some as her eyes dropped down to the picture again; her fingers idly stroking along one sharply defined cheekbone. "He's real Jo. I know you don't believe me. One day you will. Morpheus is out there…real as can be, I should know. I've met the man." there was a wistfulness about her voice as she gazed at those eyes on the paper craving them to be real.

"The Sandman is just a children's story love." Jo reached out to gently squeeze her hand. "He's not real."

"He's as real as the demons that you exorcise Jo." the redhead looked up stubbornly. "And he'll come back someday and when he does. I'm going to tell you I told you so."

The other's lips turned up into a fond smile as the woman shrugged. "I'll wait for that day then. But until then, I'm going to go make me a cuppa. Want one?" she rose heading across the open space towards their kitchen.

"Yeah, thanks…"

The air was uncomfortable and thick as Felicity sat at the edge of the sofa beside Jo. Her eyes never left Morpheus who stood tall and proud in the cluttered space with hands in his pockets. He too would not look away from the girl. The stare-down was making Johanna feel awkward as she glanced between the two.

"So, what you want?" she finally broke the silence to address the being standing like a statue in their living room. "This about your sand again? I told you to leave me alone, mate. I don't have your sand."

Felicity's head tilted as she watched Morpheus's attention draw back towards her friend as he spoke. "But you know where it is. It was never yours to take."

"Hold on a minute you two. What's going on? You two met before?" Felicity jumped into the conversation with hands flailing. "Are you talking about your bag of sand, as in one of your three tools Morpheus? Why would Jo have it?" she demanded softly looking confused

With the mention of his tools the dream king turned his attention fully to her; his face impassive as always but there was a spark of something in his eyes as he stared her down.

"You know of my tools?"

The stare heated her skin and she shrugged; wrapping her cardigan around her frame as if she were cold. "Yeah, I do." she replied swallowing the bitter taste on her tongue as she added "I researched about you after you left. Any sort of books I could find. Got some help from Johanna with some magic users who might have known. Anything I could get my hands on."

"Why?" the question was asked in such a way that the girl felt as if she was being interrogated and her walls came up rather quickly.

"Why?" she breathed incredulously. "Morpheus, you put my father into a coma! Did you know he died because of it?" she demanded looking hurt. "I pleaded with you not to hurt them-"

"I granted no wishes of yours, Felicity. To imply that I made an agreement with you is of your own doing." His voice was oddly hard

The girl stared at him looking hurt at his words but she knew he was right. He hadn't spoken a word to her even when she had begged him to spare her father's life.

"I dealt justice where justice was due. You speak of things you do not fully understand." Morpheus's features were rock solid as he turned away from her but even if Felicity had not been looking at him Johanna had and she was not blind to the mist of his blue eyes.

"The demon king was said to have had a demon locked away in his basement. It wasn't a demon was it?" Johanna stated even though she knew the answer already.

Felicity looked physically hurt as she looked over at her friend and she shook her head. No, it was no demon that her grandfather kept in his basement.

"Fucking 'ell." Johanna rubbed her temples.

The room was silent a moment before the brunet rose to her feet and clapped her hands regaining the other's attention. "Alright, you lot. listen up, Morpheus, I will help you find your sand. I know where it's at...Felicity. I would like you to come with me."

"Why must I go with you?" the redhead protested looking over at her.

"Because you cannot be trusted alone right now and I need you to keep an eye out for your friend here while I go get him his precious sand. Alright?"

Felicity sighed softly and rubbed her temples. "Alright." she agreed after a beat but even a blind person could see she was not happy about it.

There was tension between the dream lord and the red-headed girl as they stood outside Johanna's old girlfriend Rachel's place not even an hour later. It was damn cold outside; late in the night. The girl wondered if Rachel would even be awake. But even still, they stood apart in the haunting light of the street lamps beneath the archway of the apartment building. The exorcist had been buzzed up already, leaving the pair of them, and Felicity swore she would not break the silence first.

She could feel his hard stare even from across the few feet that separated but she kept her gaze stubbornly on the cobblestone beneath her boots. Her hands were tucked into her jacket pockets and her shoulders were lifted up to cover her ears in the cold. In haste, she had forgotten gloves and a scarf and was dealing with London's coldness as punishment.

"You do not look well."

She shrugged and kicked at a pebble. "I don't sleep much anymore."

and after a beat "You've stopped dreaming." that caught her attention and she lifted her head to look at him.

"How would you know that?" she questioned with a raised brow. Then it dawned on her and a sarcastic laugh slipped past her lips. "All this time...all the time I've called for you...wished for you to come to visit me in my dreams..you never did but you knew I was searching for you!"

Morpheus's face flashed a bit in frustration. "I was busy, Felicity. My realm, the Dreaming was in shambles; my world was dying and I had to rebuild it but I cannot do that without my tools. That is why I came in search." his gaze turned to her as he studied her features

"I did not mean to hurt your feelings."

"No, you mean you didn't know that I was with Johanna when you searched because you weren't thinking of me.' she quipped back crossing her arms

"You act as if we are lovers. I do not answer to a mortal like you Burgess."

Her mouth hung open but before she could say anything a flutter of wings made her click her jaw closed and looked down to see a black raven hopping on the ground between them. It looked like a normal raven if it didn't open its beak and speak in the human tongue.

"Sorry for disturbing you boss but uh, the lady upstairs looks like she needs you."

"A talking bird...I should not have been surprised." Felicity muttered "This yours then? How many damn ravens do you have working for you? First that one in my childhood home with the white chest and now this one. Are you sure you're not-"

"A raven with white chest feathers you say?" there was a stillness about Morpheus's face and Felicity's eyes caught the sight of mist behind those endless blue eyes.

"Boss..."

"I'm going, Matthew." with a flurry of robes he was gone leaving Felicity standing in the cold frustrated as all hell.

"What was that about?! Seriously?! You couldn't have just taken me with you" she threw her hands in the air and looked down at the raven at her feet before huffing a breath that clouded her vision in white and storming off across the street to sit at a bench to wait.

Johanna had come out first and right off the bat, Felicity knew something was wrong. She looked damn near to crying but she did not say anything. She didn't even come over to see Felicity and instead stood leaning against the brick wall. It had begun to rain rather heavily so the redhead had rushed over just in time as Morpheus came out of the building looking solemn. The teen swallowed and looked between the two. Johanna met her gaze before the deep voice of the dream king spoke.

"She died in peace."

"I already called her father." Felicity looked between the two shocked as she read between the lines. "You know, she was actually a good person. But you don't care, do you? You don't care about anything but your sand, dream lord."

Felicity watched in silence as their exchange ended with Johanna walking out into the rain with an umbrella. The girl wanted to go after her but something held her back and instead she turned to Morpheus who was already watching her.

"Trouble just comes with you where you go huh?" she gave a feeble smile before taking a step back to follow in Johanna's footsteps to head home but his voice stopped her.

"I did not abandon you, Felicity."

A wry smile tugged at her lips and she shrugged and took a step away from him. "You don't owe me anything dream lord. We aren't lovers remember? We aren't even friends."

"If it were not for your help I would not have been released. That act will forever be stuck in my memories. I will always be grateful for that."

"Don't act like it was something special Morpheus. You said it yourself, we are nothing to each other. I'd like to think that we humans are nothing to compare to the likes of you and your siblings. when the world finally shuts its doors you will never remember our names let alone our faces. But that's okay, you got what you wanted. Time for you to go." she stated in a voice that was bitter

"Did you still want to see the Dreaming?" the question came unexpectedly as she was just about to step into the rain.

"What?" she spun around squinting at him.

"I could hear you, in your dreams even when I was not there. I could hear your thoughts when you sought information about me. You were curious about my realm." the man took a step closer and for a second she thought he was going to pick out a handful of sand and throw it in her face.

"That was months ago Morpheus...I stopped trying to reach you when you didn't come to my aid."

"But you are still curious. No matter how this world has changed and you with it. You cannot deny the desire you possess inside of you for the knowledge you seek." he tipped his head and she stilled looking up at him a long moment.

"Are you saying I've changed a lot?" she tried to ease the tension.

"I'm asking you if you wish to quench your curiosity," he replied and a slow smile tugged at her face

"Does that make us friends if you do?" she raised a brow.

She watched as his hand retracted from his pocket and slowly held his palm out for her. Was he serious? Visiting his realm? Why? Why out of everything did he want to show her his realm? Was it a thank you gesture for all those months ago; were words not enough as gratitude? Not that she was complaining, he was right. She had wondered many a night when she couldn't sleep what his world looked like.

"And you'll bring me back after?" she questioned thinking of Johanna. She could not in her right mind abandon her friend especially after her girlfriend died

"If that is what you wish." If that was what she wished? What an odd way of saying it.

She could be mad at him for as long as she pleased. But Felicity Burgess's heart had never changed from being curious about things that were not of this world. She blamed this very man for her obsession. She liked to think she'd changed over the course of 8 months and perhaps she had. But there was one thing that had never changed. The gravitational pull this man had was something she could not resist.

So she did what any rational human being would do in such a situation. Felicity placed her cold palm against his warmer one and closed her eyes as sand swirled around them taking them into a whole different world.

Click here for chapter 6

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#the sandman #netflix the sandman #the sandman series #dream #dream of the endless #morpheus #lord morpheus #the sandman fanfiction #fanfiction #dream x original character #morpheus x original character #netflix series the sandman #original character fiction #tags open

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turnerchic · 2 years

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CHANGE YOUR MIND

alex turner x reader

Summary : Alex and you are set up on a first date (11-13 era Alex - imagine whichever era you want tbh)

words : 885

WARNINGS : sexual flirting hints? y/n's girlboss aura

Alex's Pov

"well can you atleast tell me where you're fucking taking me matthew" Alex sighed in the passenger seat of the car

"Al it's called a blind date you'll find out stop whining" Matthew chuckled

"yeah a blind date not a fucking blind taxi ride thi- ugh whatever" struggling to get his sentence out through frustration causing him to give up causing Matthew to laugh more

Y/N's Pov

you arrived and sat in the restaurant wondering if you were late or early since it took 40 minutes to get ready, you were wearing; a black mini dress, nude lipstick and your hair was unbrushed not knotty but bareable (in a messy french girl way)

you looked around fighting against the urge to pick at your nail polish Gosh you even painted your nails for this guy (red)

"hello ma"am are you waiting for someone?" a man called holding a clipboard with a list

"yeah actually, it's under..Turner" if he's cancelled i-

"right the tables over there number 5 a waiter will be with you, enjoy your evening!"

you smiled and walked over to the table, it was posh, pretty and everyone was dressed smart

so now all you have to do it wait.

Alex's Pov

Alex stepped out of the car checking his watch "oh god matthew i'm late i swear" he said while rushing into the building

he walked up to the man at the front "Hey i have a- its under Turner"

"yes table 5 over there, enjoy your evening sir" pointing to where you were already sat.

"she's already here" he thought you couldn't see your face just the back of your head, you were sat with your head in your palm. fuck

well, Alex rushed over slowing down when he got to the table

"hey im abit late im so sorry it were Matt-. Alex" holding out his hand for you.

Y/n's Pov

God. your head shot to the side but then God literally.

he held out his hand and you took it "Y/N" causing him to smile "pretty name" and you smiled

"and it's okay i only just came in"

"it were Matthew i dunno but that's good i thought i were really late" rubbing his forehead

"Matthew he told me about you"

"embarrass me?"

"no no just told me you were mates, long time and the basics"

"that's good then, you look beautiful by the way Y/n"

"thanks Turner"

"Turner? i like it darlin-"

"Hello may i please take your order if you both are ready" the waiter interrupted smiling

"oh yeah um...i'll just have the pasta with the side of soft bread" you said to the waiter

"i'll have same as her" Alex said and the waiter walked off

"so what do you do Y/n"

"Fashion, runway modelling that stuff"

"oh you model"

"is it surprising?" tilting your head

"oh no not like that you're pretty i don't know you seem like a café girl" he tried explaining

"a...café girl?" you said "is that an insult?"

"no no..oh it doesn't matter" he gave up chuckling

"i'm only kidding but what about you Alex, what do you do?"

"i'm in a band i'm sure Matthew should of mentioned it"

"no he didnt actually"

Alex's Pov:

She doesn't know i'm in Arctic Monkeys? he thought

but that's a good thing. she might be actually interested in me

"oh so you're not a fame hungry gold digger"

"famous? what are you big Alex"

"it's Arctic Monkeys, but no it's most of the past dates enjoyed the money and fame more than me"

"i'm not here to make your pockets hurt turner don't worry"

"i know love don't worry"

Y/N's pov

our food arrived and me and Alex ate most of our meals honestly it was quite bland

"i'm finished"

"same here do you wanna do dessert's?" he requested

"i'm on a diet Turner" you leaned forward

"you don't need a diet and they're small ive been here before" he leaned over the table too towards you "trust me babe"

"oh am i your now babe Turner?"

"oh hottest babe i've ever met" he winked

"i like to hear that" you smirked

"the compliments? you like how i tell you you're the most breathtaking woman i've ever seen" he said pushing some hair behind your ear "i mean everything you're great, talented..im sure you have many other talents too" he trailed his finger down your cheekbone to your jaw to your chin while he looked your body up and down

"i was a gymnast, still flexible, know all the moves..." you said turning the conversation in that direction

"ohh now you're bad" he laughed "you know i've had a great time with you y/n, and i know many other ways to show you a great time" he picked your hand up off the table, placing a kiss on the back of it

"now you're pushing it" you both laughed

you both got up paying the check and walking out of the fancy restaurant onto the quite busy streets of NYC

"hey if you want me to walk you home or owt i can or if you want to call you a taxi i'll pay i-"

"home?" you turned to him "the nights only just begun Turner" smirking looking back and starting to walk away asking him to follow after you

"we'll, lead the way then babe" and he followed you.

he'd follow you anywhere

Authors note - thank you for reading this isn't checked so im aware there is probably spelling/grammar errors.

requests open.

#alex turner fanfic #alex turner smut #alexturner #arcticmonkeys #alex turner #arctic monkeys #matthew helders #alex turner fluff #the last shadow puppets #AM #SIAS #alex turner x reader #alex turner imagine

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issaxcharlie · 3 years

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Ghost of you (1/2)

Pairing: Luke Patterson x Fem Reader

This fic is inspired by Dancing with your ghost by Sasha Sloan and specially Ghost of you from 5SOS and one of its verses also makes an appearance.

It’s also a collaboration I did with the lovely @cookiebuba, thank you for trusting me to write it, love! (I really hope you like it🥺)

Summary: This first part is angst and is basically Y/N catching up with her boyfriend Luke one last time in the 90’s and then Luke founding her once he’s back in 2020.

And that's the only thing I'll say because I really don't want to spoil you. I also adored to write it🥺💖

1997

“Hello again, my love.

Today marks 2 years since you left, And it's still as hard as the first day. One of the hardest things is waking up. Sometimes I stay almost an hour on bed, looking towards the door. Terrified to turn to your side and find it empty again.

Every night I try to rest for hours until finally exhaustion allows me to sleep wrapped in one of your old shirts, pretending that you are quietly sleeping next to me. Sometimes I have to play the only slow song from the first and last Sunset Curve record to ease the craving of you and in the hope that it will help my mind to meet you in my dreams. Those nights when I am lucky enough to find you are what keeps me relatively sane, because no matter how much it hurts to have to say goodbye, not seeing you again would be so much more painful.

I could dream of us anywhere, doing anything. But it’s always the same dream, what I yearn most projected in it. It always starts with me opening the door of our house, you are writing a song in the living room and as soon as you look at me you smile as if you had not seen me in years, wrapping me in your arms with all your strength.

You tell me how much you love me, and that when you are without me you feel as if your soul is missing. And then you ask me to promise not to leave you again. And it hurts, it hurts like fucking hell. Because I know I’m dreaming. Because I know it’s not actually you. Because I know I can’t promise you that. And god, how much I want to promise you that.

I divert the conversation crashing my lips on yours because I don’t want to lie to you, even if it’s only a dream. You pick me up and I hang my legs around your waist. And for a second I allow myself to forget. I sink in your perfume, in your arms, in your kisses, in how your tongue feels inside my mouth, in how your hands walk all over my body, In how my name sounds almost magical in your husky voice.

We spent the rest of the day just being us. Laughing, writing, playing, singing.

I sing to you the last song I wrote, the one I wrote especially for you after the first dream. The first time it just came out naturally, like it had been there the whole time. When I woke up I decided to write it down and complete it, and the next time I dreamed you I started playing it for you, just like all the following times. Because it’s the only excuse I have to cry there, for you to comfort me. Because it’s the only way I have for you to understand a little of what I am suffering without ruining the illusion.

“Come here beautiful, you’ll never have to experience something like that, I promise. You’ll dance with the real deal.” If you only knew, love.

That's when I melt on you. The tears don’t stop falling as you practically wrap me in your arms and we dance calmly around the room, I’m sobbing like crazy while you sing in my ear to try to help me relax.

I can tell you’re freaking out, comforting someone while crying was never your strong suit, but being me you always try your best,and that was more than enough.

The dream always ends with me in your arms, when I finally calm down and our heartbeats sound as one. Everything feels good for a second until suddenly I can't hear yours anymore. I beg you to hold on to me but little by little you fade away. I try to dance alone, pretending that you are still there to try to make you reappear, but I never get it. I never get you. So I keep dancing and crying until the stabbing pain wakes me up.

And I know it sounds awful and heartbreaking, but I can assure you, If to see the shine in your eyes, hear your voice and feel your lips, I have to end up dancing with the ghost of you, I’ll do it every single time. It's worth it... you are worth it. I would happily pay for the suffering I go through when I wake up every day in order to continue living the good moments.

I officially released the song a month ago, and it's doing fairly good. I knew I had to come to tell you, and it was a good excuse to finally dare to tell you that I still find you recurrently in my dreams. You will always be the love of my life, my biggest dream. I love you Luke, yesterday, today and always.”

After talking to him for hours, she gets up, wipes her knees, and examines the tombstone of her beloved for a few more seconds before leaving the cemetery.

The only thing on her mind right now is how unfair life was with her.

2020

After several months Julie finally decided to hear the music that she used to listen with her mother at full volume every day. Iconic songs from the 90's that marked the life of her mommy and later, in some way, hers.

‘Ghost of you’ starts playing and Julie can't help but feel even more connected to the song now that she lost Rose and the boys came into her life.

Just as she thinks of them almost as if she had summoned them, Sunset Curve appears. Reggie is about to speak when Alex puts his hand on his mouth. The three turn pale and begin to search where the sound is coming from, until the three approach their friend's laptop, a tear instantly falling from Luke's eyes.

“Ghost of you by Y/N Y/L. The story says that the poor thing lost the love of her life when she was just a teenager, she couldn’t recover from that loss. 2 years later she released this song to honor his lover on the anniversary of his death, and ended being one of the most iconic songs of the 90's era."

“Dancing through our house with the ghost of you. Cleaning up today, found that old Zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt.”

There is no doubt that she wrote it for him. The pain on the young woman's face makes him want to hit his head against the wall until he’s unconscious.

Reggie and Alex aren’t in better shape, they both seem about to pass out. Julie wasn’t expecting them to be so affected over an old love song.

“I know the feeling guys, her voice is breathtaking and heartbreaking at the same time, is insane. I know she would have done a lot more of amazing music if she’d had more time.”

If Luke's heart continued beating it probably would have stopped at that very moment.

“Julie, What do you mean with If she’d had more time?”

“She died a month after releasing the song in a car accident. I think in 1997.”

THANK YOU FOR READING, part 2 HERE✨

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson fanfic #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson fic #luke patterson imagine #charlie gillespie fanfic #julie and the phantoms #jatp luke #charlie gillespie imagine #jatp #jatp imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie one shot #jatp one shot #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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Permanence // Luke Patterson

Summary: On the run for most of her life the reader had been accustomed to being a lone wolf in world with eyes everywhere. Living in the age of technology and life online makes it hard for a girl stuck in a permanent state at nineteen physically. All things change when the reader moves next door to a healing teenager and her ghostly band.

Warning: Swearing, loss of death, talk of injuries/hospital, angst, and fluff

Words: 5.1k (yikes)

A/N: Loosely based on the film Age of Adaline. Also includes a scene using the BBC show Call the Midwife as well. I’ve been MIA due to this fic. I love it.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The love tingled in your lips as the taxi pulled away from the curb leaving behind the white-haired woman. Your hand raised to wave as the woman turned into a speck in the review mirror but never far from your heart and thoughts.

“Going on a trip?” The taxi driver questioned taking a right turn with a jarring sensation. His brown eyes speedily meeting yours, “Does your mom grandma live in San Francisco?”

A mournful smile appeared on the wrinkle-free complexion, “Something like that.”

The reply didn’t faze the driver in a big city he had chosen to make his living with for his family, he had heard worse. The airport reared its head with the big heavily populated by tourists and loud machinery of transport.

The royal blue wool jacket concealed the black blouse tucked into the grey, and black tartan fitted trousers. Paired with the black velvet kitten heels that had been in your possession for a very long time. Hair left down in the soft waves and makeup natural for the plane right.

The flight was over quickly for the young woman with her carry on, and purse collected you immediately headed to baggage claim. The suitcase was easy found and lifted off the conveyor belt with little trouble. Your expressive eyes finding the taxi, some may call you old fashioned for not ‘ubering’, but it was a nostalgic action.

“Where to?” The taxi driver asked with pretty blue eyes shadowed by the crows’ feet at the corner’s of her eyes. Swiftly you listed off the address to the house you had bought with your vast savings, “Half hour ride.”

You settled back into the leather seat as the city passed by with the memories staunchly kept in a locked box escaping. Los Angeles had been the location of the only family trip you had had in your late teens.

Los Angeles, 1936

“Darling! This Samuel, he owns the restaurant up the beach.” Theodore’s bright white smile gleamed as he returned to your side, “He’s personally invited us to celebrate the first night of our life together.

The pleated cark charcoal pants held up with black suspenders snuggle atop the button-down shirt of denim blue colour. The shirt left with the top two buttons undone revealing the white undershirt. Shiny polished black shoes on Theodore’s feet he was dressed as perfect as the day he caught your runaway hat.

“Oh, thank you.” You told the shy man as he led you up to the well-known restaurant with the gorgeous view of the water.

Samuel went further by providing his best table in the house, leaving the host annoyed at the interruption. The dinner was spent with Theodore listing off the itinerary for the week in the city. From visiting the museums to watching a film at the Los Angeles Theatre recommended by Theodore’s connection from work.

“You like to share a dessert Darling?” Theodore asked tenderly holding your soft hand in his smooth one. His smile never faded as you declined his offer satisfied with the large meal from the five-course dinner.

“I’d much prefer the comfort of our hotel room.” Your lips ended the words with a smile that paired well with the glittering eyes. Theodore’s heart expanded as his wife’s smile, he had fallen in love with first.

“The hotel placed a nice bottle of champagne in our room,” Theodore spoke once the bill was taken care of. He pulled your chair out to help you slip on the navy blue wool jacket on from the back of your chair, “You are absolutely beautiful.”

“Still as charming as ever.” You whispered gazing up at him with such love.

You had loved Theodore from the first chaperoned date at sixteen with the handsome eighteen-year-old that had saved your hat. The wind that day had been unbearable as you walked the beach of San Francisco with your mother. At seventeen, you wed; a mere few days previous. Theodore came from a well-off family but worked as an engineer for the city.

“We’re here.” The taxi driver spoke as the car pulled to a stop at a pretty house painted a blue with white accents.

Mumbling a thank you the driver took off once your belongings found ground on the sidewalk and the fare paid. The house door unlocked with a click revealing the furnishing you had sent and hired a company to build. The boxes of personal belongings had arrived in boxes the previous day and awaited unpacking.

The first order of business on your to-do list was changing the locks as well as testing the safety alarm. The next few hours you unpacked your kitchen and clothing as the locksmith took his time finishing up previous appointments.

Your hand hovered over the oval golden framed photo of your wedding day with Theodore with a smile on both your faces. You didn’t look a day older than the day you married Theodore even if it had been so long. The familiar clench at the sight of the man happened every time you saw the photo.

“You’d be so proud of Rosie.” Your index finger caressed the elegant picture of your first love with a mournful emotion.

Pulled from the sad memories as the doorbell rang signalling the arrival of the locksmith. The appointment was swift before you finished unpacking the living room from the bookcase to the picture frames. As the minute handle circled the clock face, you settled in for the simple meal.

“Tea on the porch.” You sighed curling into the cherry red Adirondack chair in the front porch watching as children went inside their houses.

It wasn’t how you had anticipated your life dreaming of a life with a family in a lovely home. You never expected to live in fear for your life, and your child’s as the second World War reared its ugly head. You never envisioned having to move every few years to keep safe. Lastly, you had never foreseen watching Rosie’s hair turn white before your own. You thought you’d be buried beside your husband after a long life. So far, it had been too long at this point with your childhood friends all dead.

“Hi.” The voice of a teenage girl spoke. Your gaze left your lukewarm tea for the girl at the bottom of your porch.

Strands of her curly textured hair pulled away from her face it revealed her clear tawney complexion. The most expressive brown eyes framed with thick lashes that took your breath away with the kindness in them.

“You just moved in right?” The girl asked as you climbed down the steps to the younger teenager, “I’m Julie Molina, I live next door.”

“Hello Julie, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke, shaking the extended hand of the young girl inspecting her.

Her fashion was obviously of the current time whereas your own style was a mixture of different eras. The style fits in but touches to bring in the past decades you had lived through.

“Where are your parents?” Julie asked with a furrowed brow.

“I live alone.” You replied sighing as the confusion flashed in the younger teen’s eyes before you elaborated, “I’m nineteen. I bought the house, my parents live in my home state.”

They weren’t living, but they were buried in the cemetery with the other family members that had since passed. Unless a freak accident happened, your plot near your husband wouldn’t be filled. The only person who knew the truth was Rosie, she was your daughter.

“Wow! That’s cool.” Julie beamed glancing over her shoulder as her phantom friends poofed in behind her.

The sudden appearance startled you and while it was confusing you had become well acquainted with weird. You hadn’t aged a day since a stormy night on the country roads in 1938 heading to pick up Rosie. You barely flinched at the appearance.

“Oh damn, Julie’s neighbour is hot.” The leather jacket one spoke scanning the newcomer with an awed expression.

The boy with the sleeveless top sharing the same awed expression. Whereas the blonde in pink’s breath released in an exasperated sigh. Only a corner of your lips twitched up at realization this must happen quite a bit.

“I should head back inside. I have a few more boxes to unpack. It was lovely to meet you, Julie.” Your eloquent words taking the boys by surprise from the lack of modern language and slang. You didn’t use any of the terms that Julie and Flynn spoke in.

Luke followed Julie with glances over his shoulder to the back of the mysterious girl closing her front door. It wasn’t often Luke was intrigued by anything other than his music. Still, something about you was the most interesting thing. Not even touring some of his favourite bands’ personal homes was as interesting.

“C’mon Luke!” Reggie called out to the lingering teenage ghost. Unbeknownst to the retreating guitarist, your curtain had been pulled away as you peeked at him.

Over the next few weeks, you had become acquainted with Julie, even admitting to seeing the boys. It was a mess of Reggie blushing at your revelation of hearing his comments on your beauty. It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was a friend group.

Two months later, over the course of a week, you withdrew from the group for the comfort of your living room. A garbage bin for used tissues as it sank in once more that the anniversary of Theodore’s death rolled around. 82 years since he was tragically killed.

You looked a mess and barely reacted when the four friends to it upon themselves to enter your home. Your hazy mind barely caught onto the arrival as Julie ushered your saddened form to the bathroom.

As Julie helped dress you, taking it from the extensive closet, the boys cleaned up the living room, and Alex poofed out. He returned with a pizza he began cooking coming to a stop at Luke’s gaping gaze at the mantel above the fireplace.

“What’s wrong?” Alex demanded rushing to the guitarist side equally shocked. Perfect timing as you came back into the living room with Julie.

“That’s Theodore.” The words came out gravely from the lack of use for the past few days. Your feet brought you to the side of the three boys, “It was raining the day. The sky broke when we left the church.”

“That’s you?” Reggie inquired frantically glancing between the old photo and your exact replica of the picture.

Julie gasped at the sight picking out the scar on the edge of your forehead barely seen in the photo but the matching appearance remarkable. The soft smile appeared as your hand came to grab the frame remembering the lovely day—the beautiful ceremony and the small reception before heading out for the honeymoon.

“Theodore Prescott was eighteen when I first saw him on the beach in San Francisco. Mother and I chose a windy for a walk; my hat blew away. Straight into the trousers of a young man that I would fall in love with instantly.” Your smile grew as your form settled back on the couch, having traded the frame for an old album. The four people were quiet.

“We married a year later in 1937, I was seventeen years old. Theodore whisked me off to Los Angeles for our honeymoon. We dined at fancy establishments, caught a film at the Los Angeles Theatre.” Your smile faded, leading Julie’s heart to clench as she knew that expression from seeing it in the mirror, “He was an engineer.”

“What happened?” Julie questioned grasping your soft hand in her own hand, focusing her eyes on your face. Your face remembering one of the most challenging times.

“Theodore was an engineer for the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge. A section of the bridge collapsed taking three men down. Theodore was one of them.” A lone tear travelled down your cheek, “It was difficult grieving my husband and caring for our daughter.”

Luke’s gasp was audible, “Are you a ghost?”

“No.” You told the seventeen-year-old guitarist, “I’ve been nineteen for the last 83 years.”

“Eighty-three years?!” Reggie exclaimed completely taken aback blinking fast to take it in, “Did you find a fountain of youth? Some special French creams?”

“Reg, shut up.” Alex elbowed the raven-haired teenager in the side with an apologetic smile, “I’d apologize and say he isn’t normally like this…but you know us too well.”

“It’s alright Alex,” You told the drummer fiddling with his ring as you returned back to Reggie, “It was storming in 1938, but I had promised to meet my parents and Rosie at the cabin. Visibility got worse, and I fishtailed right off the road into the ravine. I’m not sure the science but I know I died, and then I woke up.”

“This so weird,” Luke mumbled listening intently to the story with wide eyes that quickly matched his friends.

“Believe it’s shocking when your daughter graduates from college with her mother looking younger than her.” The bitter chuckle couldn’t be held back, remembering it as the first time you were retitled as Rosie’s sister.

“I just got used to being a ghost.” Alex sighed, settling into the armchair to the left of the couch. Luke sat on the couch next to you while Reggie took the armchair across from Alex.

As the sun rose higher and began to set, you enthralled the teenagers with stories of your long life. Luke was the most interested in the music you have seen evolve over the course of time, and the musicians you had met. In telling them stories, it allowed you to step out of the dark abyss of your mind.

“Freddie Mercury?” Luke asked from the other cherry red Adirondack chair turned to see you in the matching one.

“I had coffee with him in a little hole in the wall coffee shop in New York. He loved whip cream, but he didn’t like the dairy they used. The shop is now a Starbucks.”

The giggle escaped at Luke’s look of absolute awe, “That’s so rad.”

“Rad. Haven’t heard that in a long time.” The sparkle for sure would have sent Luke’s heart thudding like Alex’s drumming in Now or Never; if it still beat that is.

“…so do you think people can fall in love more than once?” Luke had been very undecided in asking the question. Everyone around could tell he felt something for you so unlike any other relationship.

You kissed your teeth, thinking about how to properly articulate your thoughts on such a heavy subject. It was clear that you felt something for the teenage ghost even if you had lived far longer than Luke had.

“I think it’s possible. Luke, I’ve lived a long time and while I’ll love Theodore for as long as I live that doesn’t mean I have been alone.” You revealed to the ghostly guitarist stepping back in a part of your history buried incredibly deep.

“The way you were torn up made me think-“

“I’ll always mourn Theodore, I had a year, and that was never enough. I worked as a midwife in England in the late 1960s.”

Poplar, London, England circa 1960s

The blonde-haired bombshell marched her way through the crowded Poplar district in London scanning the late-night Christmas shoppers. Beatrix, Trixie to her friends, had a young mother a mere street away. The only available midwife to help her happened to be off duty shopping for gifts.

Trixie was thankful for the American accent that distinguished the midwife from the crowd, pointing her towards a store window. Your eyes dragged away from the lovely young mother giving her thanks for delivering her baby a few months prior.

“Trixie!” You beamed, revealing a white smile that lit up your pretty eye colour. Trixie’s anxious expression dropped the smile, however, “Is something wrong?”

“Jenny Turner is in labour. Tom is with her right now, but I need help. Everyone is further away.”

In seconds you had pulled the charcoal cape secured by the bands crisscrossing your shoulders to properly rest. The cloak had armholes with material covering the holes, no sleeves seen. The cape covered the plain light blue nurse uniform with the white-collar and the maroon red cardigan.

Trixie led you to the small apartment housing twenty-one-year-old, Jenny, with Reverend Tom Hereward waiting. This would be Jenny’s second child with her husband Roger leaving the midwife’s nervous after her first pregnancy.

“Hello, Jenny.” You spoke stepping closer to the woman, “Trixie said you requested my presence.”

“You delivered my first baby. I want you here, Roger a county away for work.” Jenny heavily spoke as a contraction ended, “I’m not due for two weeks.”

“Baby Turner is too excited to meet their big brother.” You soothed settling beside the young mother, “You’re in great hands with Trixie. You are close to the hospital and the clinic if you’d prefer to move.”

“No. I want to stay.” Jenny was sure of that, at least. Her hand left yours to clench the white bedsheets as a contraction clenched her midsection.

“Then I’ll be right here with you.”

It was a promise you kept as Trixie delivered a healthy baby girl appreciating your help when you cleaned the baby. Trixie helped Jenny deliver the afterbirth and clean up the room just in time for Jenny’s mother to enter the room.

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jenny spoke with a small tired smile. The smile that made the job worth watching babies being born, of family’s growing.

Tom was waiting outside in the living room as you exited the bathroom. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the Reverend Hereward waiting for you with his patient smile and a tender look in his blue gaze.

“How is Jenny?” Tom asked, holding the door to the street open.

“Tired after delivering Cynthia. Cynthia is an eight-pound baby with no complications. Thank you for praying Tom.”

“Trixie informed me of Jenny’s first pregnancy, and I felt like I was needed. Do you happen to be free tomorrow night?” Tom asked, linking his fingers in yours with a smile that almost looked nervous.

“I am.” You responded as Tom walked you to Nonnatus House where the unmarried midwives resided. You stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Good night Tom.”

“I’ll meet you at the park,” Tom responded, waiting patiently as you entered the building before he turned on his heel to head to his residence. Unknown to him, you peered down from your bedroom window as he pulled something out of his pocket.

A small box housing a ring he would propose with the very next night. A ring that broke your heart. A ring that you’d never see up close as you handed in your resignation and left England as quickly as possible.

Luke’s invested gaze shuttered as you revealed you had run away before Tom could propose because it could never happen.

“He was going to propose, and you didn’t say goodbye?”

“I don’t know if I could have said no when he asked. I wish I knew what I would have said, but it was unfair. How could Tom, as a Reverend, accept that his fiancée or wife would never grow old? It went against everything he believed in.” You countered with a raised eyebrow, “He married the midwife that was hired a year after I left. Barbara Gilbert. Trixie sent me the letter.”

Luke’s perceptive eyes caught the tinge of sadness in your gaze recalling the second man you had loved. You loved with your whole heart and with that came a lot of heartbreak.

“Do you keep in contact with them?”

“I send a letter to Trixie every once in a while, to check up on her. She married a few years after I left and had a few children. I believe she had a step-daughter.”

Luke’s mouth went to open before a flash of light, and a slight gasp was heard from the blonde drummer. His eyebrows raised as the close proximity between his best friend and his new friend. He shook it off as he turned to face Luke fully.

“Did you forget? We have a gig.” Alex spoke amused as Luke’s eyes widened theatrically vividly recalling the excitement in Julie’s eyes.

You waved the duo off to disappear in a ball of light to the gig they had for the night while you entered your home. You didn’t hear Alex make a comment that Luke couldn’t deny.

“You’ve fallen for her,” Alex spoke just outside the coffee shop that housed the record execs with the power to change their afterlife. The quirk of a smile sealed Alex’s opinion of the girl.

Content to spend your time in the house you retreated to the kitchen. Your hand slipped into your pocket for the phone that had few contacts such as Rosie and Julie’s along with the number of Rosie’s doctor. Mostly pictures of Rosie and landscapes but never your face, not after the 1953 incident.

Living next door to the Molina’s you often shared recipes with Ray, he had taken you under his wing. He felt empathetic with the young neighbour he saw you as a daughter almost, unaware that it would the other way around. You had years on the widowed father.

The wooden spoon stirred the sizzling stir-fry that had been a fixture in raising a rambunctious little girl interested in skinny her knees. The stir-fry was the quickest meal while Rosie played outside or in the little play corner with her dolls. It seemed like the world knew when your phone rang.

“Hello, darling.” You spoke securing the phone between your neck and shoulder, “Did you teach Gladys poker?”

The silence was stifling, “Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

A cold sweat broke out as the unfamiliar voice came from Rosie’s cell phone roused the deep-seated fear of loss. The wooden spoon in your hand clattered on the tile flooring of the modest-sized kitchen.

“Your grandmother Rosemary Prescott tripped over a cane. You’re her emergency contact.”

“Has she been admitted to the hospital? How extensive are her injuries? Let me get a pen and grab the address.” You rambled frantically scouring the kitchen for the notepad, “Was she alone?”

“She’s still being seen by the doctor, and I’m unable to reveal the details over the phone. Her friend Gladys was there, and she hasn’t left your grandma’s side.” The person responded in an even tone with the failed intention of soothing you.

“What’s the address?”

“I’m a nurse at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center.” The nurse prattled off, providing the address and visiting hours.

As soon as the call ended, you had quickly grabbed a quick bite from the meal before packaging it up. Next, you dug out the small suitcase to pack the essentials with the mental capacity of a zombie. The bag was stowed in the backseat of the car while you kept your purse on your shoulder.

You barely comprehended knocking on the Molina door or Ray opening it, “Hello Y/N.”

“Ray. Tonight, I made stir-fry, I’ll be out of town for a few days.” You told the man catching sight of both Carlos and Julie in the background.

“Are you okay?” Ray questioned taking the container from your shaking hands, “Do you need us to do anything?”

“Could I have a h-hug?” You stuttered feeling a smidge better than the older man tugged you in for a hug. Two pairs of arms joined with the Molina kids ambushing you.

“You’re coming back, right?” The question came from the concerned hazel-eyed guitarist watching the interaction with a particular look. A look he knew came from not being able to comfort you.

“I’ll be back once I know Rosie is okay.” You replied, locking eyes with Luke over Ray’s shoulder earning a tender smile from the male.

“I’ll pray for your Grandma,” Ray spoke, stepping back to let both Julie and Carlos say their goodbyes to their neighbour. Everyone but Carlos and Ray half-heartedly smirking at Ray’s belief that Rosie was older than you.

Unlike typical times you didn’t linger in the Molina home with the distracted thoughts of Rosie injured with her mother with her. Rosie is the only thing you would drop anything for, the love of a mother and her child. So distracted by your thoughts you didn’t notice Luke had appeared right beside you.

“Are you driving?” Luke asked, tapping his shoe on the porch step, bringing your sad eyes to meet his, “Or are you taking a plane?”

“A plane. It’s a five-hour drive to San Francisco from here not taking in traffic time. I bought a last-minute ticket.” You replied, heading straight for the car with Luke hot on your heels to the vintage car.

Half of you wanted to refuse his evident intention to join you, but a part of you yearned for the comfort. A stroke of luck had a plane seat beside yours empty, time didn’t exist, but it dragged on at the same time. So lost in thoughts you never noticed the brush on a pinkie on your skin.

While you stared off in the distance, Luke’s jaw was dropped at the silky feel of your skin. Words bubbled up his throat just before he knew it wasn’t the right time to bring it up. Instead, he chose different words to regale you with stories of his childhood.

“I begged for a dog when I was eight years old. Reggie had this golden retriever his family had before he was born. My dad was allergic in the end, so I was content with Reggie’s dog.” Luke spoke, “That didn’t mean I didn’t sneak in this stray one night. We kept him in the garage while we found him a forever home.”

“What was his name?”

“Fender.” Luke sheepishly spoke, catching the tweak of your smile as the clouds in your eyes cleared for a few minutes. Luke loved being able to ease your mind through the flight, not holding back on the embarrassing stories either.

“Thank you.” You told the easy natured teenager with a familiar flutter in your chest that terrified you.

You could name only one other time you had felt that flutter when everything was easy. 1936 with a man you thought would be your one and only. Feeling something that strong for a ghost was incredibly scary.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Luke asked just outside the closed hospital door, separating you from your daughter. Your lips parted to deny his question but you couldn’t so you simply shook your head.

“Come in!” The voice was prompt after knocking on the door. Opening the door, you found Rosie’s grinning in her bed with Gladys at her side, scolding her.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Gladys spoke shuffling by you out of the door with a quick hug. The second Gladys closed the door, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Rosemary Elspath Prescott. What were you thinking?” You crossed your arms walking closer to Rosie, “You know your ankle hasn’t been the same-“

“-since I shattered during a cheer comp in college. Mama, I know. It was an accident.” Rosie softly spoke just before her gaze met Luke’s with fear planted squaring in her blue gaze. Luke’s lips parted, “He knows?”

“Oh.” Luke blinked at the sudden new change in his afterlife with Rosie actually seeing him, “I’m Luke.”

“This is going to sound craz-“

“Mama, you’ve been nineteen for over eight decades. I think we’ve hit the crazy already, tell me. Before I get a bad heart.” Rosie joked with that twinkle you saw countless times over the years.

The first time you saw it was when you found her on the counter at age two when she learned how to climb. Other times included her sneaking out to a senior party with her friends and the teasing she started when she got her first grey hair.

“You better have taken our discussion about your salt intake serious young lady.” You pointed at her mere seconds before your shoulders dropped. You leaned down to kiss the crown of her head, “Luke’s a ghost.”

Rosie’s lips parted, staring down the boy before whispering very softly in your ear, “Well. At least he doesn’t age. You look happy with him Mama, I’m not getting any younger, and he’s really cute.”

“Don’t talk like that.” The low response came out broken at the horrible future where you would bury Rosie.

A cold hand landed on your waist as you stretched to place an ornament on the tree you chose with Luke. The wire hugged the branch a ghost of a kiss pressed against your cheek, a moment of quiet in the loud house. Reggie and Alex had been baking cookies with Rosie for the last two hours. Julie was finishing her family dinner at her home before she would come over.

“Merry Christmas,” Luke murmured tugging you in his chest. A flutter of butterflies moving in your tummy.

Once Rosie had been discharged from the hospital, she had been convinced to temporarily move to Los Angeles. For the first time since Rosie’s senior year in high school, you got to live with her. Subtlety had never been her strong suit with nagging you and Luke about getting together.

“Merry Christmas.” You replied, stretching to peck his lips once before cuddling into his chest with the thick sweater.

“Would you like a cookie…Dad.” Rosie teased, bringing a tray into the living room with the gooey chocolate chips.

Another revelation other than being able to touch the boys was that once Julie saved them from Caleb, they could eat small quantities. They couldn’t eat a lot, and they didn’t need it, but it was a comfort to the group.

“That’s so weird.” Alex chortled, taking in the shocked and uncomfortable expression Luke had. Reggie beamed with a mouthful of cookie. This was the first Christmas the boys had surrounded by only acceptance, love, and untainted happiness.

“How about we stick to Luke?” Rosie chuckled just as weirded out by the odd age gap and the forever youth the couple displayed.

While Rosie interacted with the arrival of both Flynn and Julie, you curled into Luke’s embrace taking in the room. Julie and Flynn listened to the rebellious stories Rosie carried. Alex had retreated to the kitchen with a guy with shoulder-length brunette hair. Reggie was involved in a conversation with Ray; another unexplained phenomenon after the Orpheum.

Your eyes found the mantle with the picture of Theodore and you. Right beside it a lovely photo with Luke dipping you in a kiss and besides that picture was the very last picture of Luke with his parents. How lucky you had been in the years you had lived to end up with a chosen family.

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glenngaylord · 3 years

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Glenn Gaylord’s Capsules From The Bunker – Summer 2021 Lockdown Style

Like many of you, I’ve lost all concept of space and time during this lockdown era. I’d watch movie after movie, but somehow forget to write about them. I’d consume films for sustenance, but then I’d move on to the next task of cleaning a room, doing a crossword puzzle, or staring at my dog for hours on end. Thank goodness I have a few friends to have breakfast with every now and then, or else I’d have assumed I had been transported to a cabin in Montana. “Am I a film critic or a hermit?” I’d ask myself daily…that is, if I even understand what days are anymore. All of this is to say that I have a lot of catching up to do now that we’ve taken a baby step or two towards returning to some sense of normalcy. Wait a minute. What’s that? Highly transmissible variants? Back into the cave I go. While I still can, I’ve managed to blurt out a few capsule reviews of some films worth mentioning.

In Between Gays – Film Review: Summer Of 85 ★★★★

Prolific French filmmaker, François Ozon, has made a career out of finding dark crevices in the most unexpected of places. Here, with Summer Of 85, he tweaks this New Wave era gay romance just enough to upend our expectations. In pure Talented Mr. Ripley meets Call Me By Your Name meets Luca fashion, Ozon spins what could have been that sun-dappled, seaside summer that changed everything into a love that perhaps never was, zeroing in instead on a young man’s obsession for something unobtainable. Beautifully shot and acted, Ozon takes the story to more provocative places than you’d initially expect while still maintaining the boppy fizz of a great Cure song. Despite the mish mash of tones, the film has a pulse all of its own. It’ll make you swoon, pull the rug out from under you, and then make you wonder how he managed to quietly get a little twisted.

Summer Of 85 currently in select theaters, see official website for details. Released on DVD and BluRay August 17th.

Truffle In Mind – Film Review: Pig ★★★★

Writer-director Michael Sarnoski makes an auspicious feature debut with the story of a man searching for his stolen truffle-hunting pig. Caked in dirt, blood and looking not so much like a homeless man but as a person who died inside a thousand times over, Nicholas Cage gives one of his best performances ever as a man who seeks the truth at all costs. He asks his only connection to the outside world, Amir, played wonderfully by Alex Wolff, to drive him through Portland’s dark underbelly to retrieve his pet companion.

Although the film takes us to a rather unbelievable “Fight Club” moment, it generally holds its mood with credibility. It’s a great calling card, not only for Sarnoski, but also for his talented cinematographer Patrick Scola, who brings a painterly quality to every single image. The film finds beauty in a bite of food, a breath of air, or simply the compassion between two main characters who have seemingly little in common. It’s a shame the trailer elicits laughs when Cage utters lines like, “Who has my pig?” Clearly they want to sell the actor’s neo-gonzo persona, but Cage brings so much depth and seriousness to this project, only raising his voice once. He deserves the highest praise for committing to such an oddly touching, gorgeously quiet story. At risk of sounding Dad-jokey, the only thing that hogs the scenery is his porcine friend.

Pig is in theaters now.

All Is Lost – Film Review: Old ★★

In 1999, M. Night Shyamalan made a great film, The Sixth Sense, and has been chasing that dragon ever since, often to diminishing returns. His films, however, often do well because he has great concepts, a keen eye for visuals and timing, yet things always seem to turn clunky and inane real fast. With Old, he continues down that path by giving us something compelling—a group of people on a beach who age quickly—and ruining it with dialogue seemingly written by an algorithm and rendered unintelligible much of the time, while the terrific cast seem to have no idea how to make Shyamalan’s words sound any better than a high school play. A couple of sequences did make me sit up and take notice, and he uses compositions and offscreen space well, but overall, Old plays like a stretched-out episode of Lost, and like that cool but overstuffed series, you’re not gonna get very good explanations as to what transpires. Sure, the big twist works well enough on some level, but it doesn’t save you from the discomfort of watching good actors flatline in more ways than one.

Old is currently in theaters nationally.

Hi Fidel-ity – Film Review: Revolution Rent ★★★1/2

Shot in 2014, Andy Señor Jr., who played Angel on Broadway along with a host of other credits, staged the classic musical Rent in Havana during a thaw in our relations with the Communist regime. He did so against the wishes of his Cuban family, who suffered under Castro and insisted his production would merely serve as a propaganda tool for the government. He plows ahead instead, capturing the months long process in a rather artless home movie style. The aesthetics don’t carry any weight here when you have such a compelling subject matter. Witnessing his actors struggling with their performances while also living in harsh conditions adds new layers to the late Jonathan Larson’s story of squatters in the age of AIDS.

With a limited talent pool, one of whom doesn’t feel comfortable with the gay subject matter and another who lives with HIV himself, Señor finds new connections to Larson’s material as well as an affection for his heritage. What we may have taken for granted here in the US in terms of sexuality and gender expression feels like a whole new experience when seen through a Cuban lens. Señor speaks out against the Castros with quick sequences showing moments of oppression, thus preventing this film from perpetuating the lies of its government. Instead, he gifts the people of this poor, struggling country with a real sense of community and its first burst of musical theater in ages. Sure he’s a privileged westerner who dangles hope in front of people only to return to his cushy life, but he does so with heart and good intentions. You end up loving and rooting for his cast in this moving, sweet documentary.

Revolution Rent is currently streaming on HBO Max.

Do The Hustlers – Film Review: Zola ★★★★

Call me wary when I went to see a movie based on a viral twitter thread and directed by Janicza Brava, whose Sundance Award-winning short, Gregory Go Boom, proved to be not only tone deaf but downright offensive towards people with disabilities. Her new film, Zola, excels however, in ways her prior work has not. Taylour Paige, a standout in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, plays the title character, a stripper who meets Stefani (Riley Keough) one night and is convinced to travel with her down to Florida where they can make a lot of money dancing all weekend. Things, however, do not go as planned, with Zola’s story escalating from one insane twist after another. Paige and Keough are outstanding, as are Nicholas Braun and Colman Domingo as their traveling companions. Jason Mitchell, so great in Straight Outta Compton and Mudbound, brings a wild, dangerous energy, something he shares with the film itself. It comes across as The Florida Project meets Hustlers, but with its own surreal, unexpected tone. I laughed out loud often, especially with Paige’s loopy reactions to her surroundings and the giddy, zippy energy on display. Zola chews you up, twerks on your face, and spits you out, exhausted yet anxious to see whatever this talented group of people will do next.

Zola is currently playing in select theaters and available on demand.

Banned On The Run – Film Review: There Is No Evil ★★★★

It’s impossible to review There Is No Evil without giving away its central premise, so I will avoid as much description as possible. Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof has crafted a four-part anthology of sorts around an agonizing moral issue important to people worldwide. At the end of the first part, a stunning cut to an unforgettable visual reveals everything and allows you to watch the rest with informed eyes. Rasoulof seamlessly excels at different genres, from family drama, to action escape, to romance, weaving a tale of such depth and sorrow for its talented cast of characters.

The making of it proves as interesting at the film itself. Banned by the regime from producing feature films for two years and prohibited from traveling outside of Iran, Rasoulof, like any crafty filmmaker, came up with an ingenious plan. He slipped under the radar by calling these four short films, mostly shot in small towns far outside the reach of Tehran, and then had the final product smuggled out of the country. A filmmaker with such talent not only at telling stories, but the with ability to will his vision into existence against all odds, deserves the world’s attention.

There Is No Evil is available on DVD, BluRay and VOD now.

In Space No One Can Hear You Think – Film Review: F9: The Fast Saga ★★★

Considered review-proof, the Fast and the Furious franchise has ruled the box office for the past 20 years, so my calling its latest entry, F9: The Fast Saga, monumentally dumb will have zero influence on anyone’s decision to see it. We all know it’s big and stupid, as do the filmmakers. These films, deliver said stupid with such gusto, that you simply surrender and have a great time nonetheless. Nothing, however, prepared me, for this series to go all Moonraker, sending a car to a place no car has ever gone before. You’ll know it when you see it and probably say, “That’s ludicrous!” and also say, “That’s Ludacris!”

F9: The Fast Saga is currently playing on every screen on Earth and in select theaters throughout the universe.

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noeliareads · 4 years

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“5SOS IN 2014?”

The prompt: “I would like to see a goth!/punkbf!johnny au bc reasons” Man, you’re not the only one!

words: 1028

category: fluff+randomness

author note: I pulled my emo/punk playlist from the grave. I hope you enjoy it!

“5SOS IN 2014″

“Johnny, do you really need another pair of dr martens?” You ask as you collapse on one of the benches in the store.

“Yup!” Johnny’s tall figure browsed the different styles of shoes until he saw one pair that caught his eye. He lifted the boot proudly. “How about these?!” Your eyes widened causing Johnny to crack up.

“God no.” You say. Johnny raised his hand to call over the employee and proceeded to ask for his size. “Johnny!”

“What?” He leaned on the wall facing you and crossed his arms. The tattoos on his arms peeked underneath the leather jacket he insisted on wearing even though the weather forecast predicted a high of 90 degrees. Still, he looked rather ravishing.

“Y/N.” You blink away your previous thoughts and looked up at him.

“Huh?” His pierced right brow lifted slightly.

“What are you staring at dummy?”

“Noooothing.” You sing.

Johnny pushed himself off the wall and crouched in front of you. He rested a hand on your knee.

“Oh really?” He taunted. Just in time, the employee brought the pair of boots. Johnny thanks him quickly and sits beside you to try them on.

“Dude.” You say. “Do you really wanna get a pair of platform dr martens?”

“Lol. Why not?” He responded standing up with them on. You gaped. God no.

Your boyfriend was easily around 6’3. (ya’ll are lying to yourselves if you think he’s 6’0). With those boots? He looked TALL but like, TALL. Too tall. The way he intimidated you just doubled. I mean, how could he not? He was the definition of a punk bad boy. If you google punk or goth you will find the typical spiked hair, tattoos, the eyeliner… You get the idea. Johnny had his own vibe. Yeah, he mostly wore black and always wore his leather jacket and always wore his docs and he did wear eye makeup a lot… ok yes, he’s a punk wannabe.

Today? With those boots? *chefs kiss* the platform boots paired with his skinny jeans made his legs look infinite. But as he looked at himself in the mirror you couldn’t help but still feel slightly scared of him. He laughed at your horrified expression in the mirror. His laugh was so contagious that he made you laugh too.

“Babe no.” You say. “Just get a pair of vans.” He whipped around in the blink of an eye.

“Vans?” He exclaimed clutching his chest. “Do you want me to look like 5sos in 2014?”

“What’s wrong with that? They’re hot. Plus, I’m wearing a pair now.” He sat beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he whispered in your ear.

“It’s the aesthetic.”

“Aesthetic?” You scoff. “Aesthetic is Alex Turner in AM era.” Your boyfriend tilted his head to the side. (gif for a bit of context)

“So I’m not punk aesthetic?” You get up and pull up your pants before standing in front of him. Ironically you were eye level with him.

“Babe.” Placing a hand on his shoulder you whisper “You listen to Twice every time you shower. You cry with romance movies PLUS you sleep with your childhood blankie.”

The giant covered your mouth with his hand, quickly looking around making sure no one heard.

“For the record-” you muffle “you’re my aesthetic.” A faint blush covered his cheeks and the tip of his ears turned red.

“Umm… Excuse me-” Mark, the employee interrupted “Are you going to get the boots?”

“Yes, but instead of these I need the regular ones in a women’s size 7.” Johnny said.

“John, who’s that for?”

“You silly.”

“But babe...” You felt bad, they’re expensive pairs of shoes.

“Shush, no buts. You mentioned wanting them for a while. Plus, take it as an introduction to the punk aesthetic.” He winked.

“You’re too much you know that right?”

“Ahh, that I know.” He affirmed. Johnny was excited! He could now match shoes with his girlfriend, as cheesy as it sounds. Regardless of his rough exterior, he was a complete softie.

The transaction was done quickly, Johnny not letting you pay a dime. You two walk out of the store hand in hand greeted by the beautiful summer heat. Johnny gagged.

“Ewwwww. It’s humid!” He let go of your hand and shrugged his jacket off, exposing his arms splattered with tats. The most prominent one being on his left forearm. His parent’s birthday in roman numerals. Damn. You think. How did I snag this guy? Johnny was ethereal, especially sporting the undercut he got done a couple of days ago. You could see his ear-piercing more clearly.

“Babe, stop staring. You’re drooling.” You immediately wipe our mouth causing him to burst out laughing.

“Shut up.” You murmur as he pulls you close.

“I love you.” He murmured pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too J.” You get on your toes and give him a swift peck. “Wanna get coffee?”

“Ohhhh say less!” He snatched the car keys from your hand and sprinted towards the car. “I CALL THE AUX CORD!”

“What?” You yell running after him and mentally cursing him for having such long legs. Why did we park so far away? “JOHNNY SEO!” You holler. “I’M TIRED OF YOUR PUNK BANDS!”

“YOU LIKE MOST OF THEM ANYWAYS!” He yells back already reaching the car. You catch up and gasp for breath as you lean on the driver’s side.

“Did you die?” He asked. You glare at him and scoff.

“No shit sherlock.” You two get in the car and he passes you the keys.

“Can we listen to fall out boy though?”

“Ok. That I do like.” Johnny fist bumps the air and connects his phone to the car speakers. Suddenly, Red Velvet starts playing at full blast. You’re looking at him mockingly as he purses his full lips looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t even hide the fact that he was listening to RV.

“Red Velvet, huh?” He smiles sheepishly and shrugs.

“Zimzalabim is a bop.”

“Okay. Whatever you say, love.” You put the car in reverse and leave the parking lot. “Psycho is better tho.” You add quickly. That last comment drove you two into a debate of which RV title track is best.

#johnny seo #johnny #johnny nct #johnny suh #john suh #johfam #johnny fluff #au #kpop #nct 127 #johnny seo au #fanfic #kpop fanfic #johnny seo imagines

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benaffleckofcrowdsurfing · 4 years

Text

Lazerquest - part 4

Alex Turner x Reader

Chapter 4/?

Description: you are an impulsive bartender who recently moved to London after traveling across the United States and living on the road for a few years. You befriend Alex, a musician who recently got out of a long term relationship, and you show him the ways of your free-spirited lifestyle in an attempt to help him move on from his ex. However, you become more of a muse than a friend for Alex and all is revealed when he releases his band’s fourth studio album, “Suck it and See”.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Tag list (msg me if you would like to be added):

@lolurnotmileskane @imagine-that-100

Updates whenever the heck I please (at least once a week)

Author’s note: hi friends. This is a sucky chapter because im brain dead from work, but i promise things will pick up soon. Ive got big plans for this bad boy, i just need to figure out how to get there.

**************

“Here she is,” Alex burst, and stopped in front of a beautiful vintage Porsche. Your jaw dropped as he leaned up against the car. It was a beautiful deep green color with tan leather interior, and although it was obviously an old car, it was in pristine condition.

“Oh my god, Alex, this is yours? Is this a 1969 convertible 911?” You inquired, but you knew the answer. You were a bit of a car geek, and Porsches were some of your favorites. You ran your fingers lightly across the hood in awe, you couldn’t believe you were actually touching such a classic car. Alex had a proud grin on his face.

“Yes ma’am. One of my larger purchases after Favourite Worst Nightmare went platinum. She’s my baby,” Alex beamed, and opened the passenger door for you. “Your chariot awaits, Milady.”

“Why, thank you Sir,” you imitated Alex’s accent, before stepping into the car. He shut the door behind you and went over to the drivers side.

“I got a brand new sound system put in, it has an auxiliary cord and everything. You can go ahead and hook your phone up to it if you’d like, it’s your adventure so you can pick the music,” Alex said, and handed you a cord. He then turned on the car and shot you a huge grin. You pulled out your brand new IPhone 4 - a going away gift from your best friend back home - and scrolled through Itunes. You settled on another album that reminded you of home: Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californiacation. As the opening track, Around the World, began playing through the car’s speakers, Alex drove off and out of his apartment complex’s garage.

“So, where to?” Alex had to yell over the music.

“You know the vintage shop by the place I work?”

“Yeah, the one with all the leather and costumes and shit right?”

“That’s the one!” You chortled. Alex and you exchanged knowing glances before he stepped on the gas and you turned up the music.

The two of you were speeding through the city, and you thought you looked quite good. Your hair was flowing in the spring breeze, and your leopard fur coat matched the interior of the car perfectly. Alex looked cool as all hell in his oversized aviator sunglasses, and his toned arms resting on the steering wheel of the car made your insides weak. When you’d stop at a traffic light, the people in cars around you would stare and smile at you, and to be honest you liked the attention. You liked being the mysterious girl in a Porsche with Alex Turner. As the 911 pulled up to the vintage shop, you clapped your hands in excitement.

“I hope you brought your wallet, Turner. We’ve got shopping to do,” you winked at Alex as he opened your door and put a hand out for you to hold onto as you exited the car. What a gentleman.

When you entered the shop, you grabbed Alex’s hand and dragged him towards the huge section of racks containing leather jackets.

“Alright, Al. Remember when I said I knew how to make your outfit perfect? Well here we are. You need a good vintage jacket to match that vintage shirt and vintage car of yours,” you smirked. Alex gave you a massive grin before practically diving into the massive collection of jackets.

“You go look around, Y/N, and I’ll show you the one I choose once I’ve found it. Like some sort of big reveal,” Alex instructed. You ruffled his hair and squeezed his arm before skipping away.

You found yourself in the dress section, like usual, and began digging. Most of them were rather cheesy numbers from the 80’s, but just as you were about to give up and move on, you found a stunning 60’s Mod style dress. It looked like a checkerboard, it was 4 huge grids alternating between black and white. It was a rather stretchy material and was a bit short, which you thought was unusual for the time period, but you knew that it’d just make the dress far more flattering. A huge grin appeared on your face, and you darted to the dressing rooms to try it on.

Just as you had slipped the dress on, you heard Alex calling your name. You were so eager to see the jacket he had picked out that you didn’t bother to look to see how the dress looked, you opened the curtain to go find Alex. You were surprised to see him waiting for you right outside of your dressing room. Both of your jaws dropped at the sight of each other. Alex looked amazing in his jacket, he had picked a rather worn one in a biker style that looked to be around the 1950’s era.

“You look like a greaser, Al. Like a modern Danny Zuko or something. It’s fantastic,” you gushed. Alex hadn’t said anything yet, he just looked at you with wide eyes and a little smirk.

“And you look like a modern Twiggy. Absolutely brilliant,” he breathed, before taking a step towards you. He traced the outline of the dress with his large hands, before reaching for the price tag. He was so close you could smell him, this time the sandalwood and cigarette was accompanied by the smell of worn leather. “I’m buying this for you.”

“Oh no you aren’t, you can buy your own jacket and I’ll buy my own dress. Oh and those SHOES!” you gasped and practically ran to the wall of shoes. You pulled down a pair of chunky soled white go-go boots and squealed when you discovered they were in your size. You put them on right there in the middle of the shop and gave Alex a huge smile. “Thoughts?”

“I don’t think you want to know what I’m thinkin, Love.” Alex’s eyes were glued to you, the corners of his lips curled up into a devious smile.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a little nudge. “Stop playing, Alex. I’ve got to go take this beauty off, then I want to go look at costume jewelry. Then our day can really start.”

“Brilliant.”

“Be back in a jiffy.”

When you had come out of the dressing room, you found Alex at the front of the shop looking at jewelry. The man behind the counter was showing him a gorgeous yellow diamond choker with a black diamond in the center.

“It’s a 30’s era piece, one of my personal favorites. I think it’d look absolutely lovely on your bird, there,” the man said and nodded towards you and then back at Alex.

“I think so too, Sir. I’ll take it,” Alex beamed. You blushed when he looked down at you and bit his bottom lip. “And don’t let her pay for those shoes and that dress either, I’ll take care of it.”

You frowned. “Alex, seriously. I can buy my own things.”

“I don’t care, I want to buy them for you.”

“You don’t need to do that for me.”

“Y/N.”

“Alex.”

“Y/N/N.”

“Al. I’m being so serious.”

“Do I need to show you my bank statements? Trust me, it’s nothing. Think of it as a little thank you for staying up with me last night.”

“Alexander….”

“Y/N…..”

“Cut it out and move so I can pay for my shit.”

“Nope. I’m buying them for you.”

“You’re impossible, Al.”

“You love me, Y/N/N.”

**********

Once Alex and you had returned to the car, he took the necklace out of the bag and instructed you to turn around. He wrapped it around your neck and gently moved your hair out of his way so he could fasten it. Once it was on, he turned you back around, and fixed your hair. He was still wearing his new jacket, and you took the moment to admire how good he looked. Neither of you spoke, he just stood there with his hand on your shoulders, smiling down at you. You could feel your cheeks turning pink as the two of you locked gazes. After what felt like an eternity of blissful silence, he chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re an interesting one, you.” He muttered as he opened the door of his car for you. “So, where to next?”

“Not sure. Just travel East till you reach the water. I want to go for a swim,” You hummed.

Alex looked at you, rather amused, before starting the car. “I know just the place.”

************

By afternoon time, both you and Alex had shed your coats and were driving down a windy, narrow, road, soaking in the sunshine. You had taken off your shoes and your seat belt so you could lounge your legs up on the dash and look up at the sky above you. Alex had put on Room on Fire by The Strokes, and the two of you sang along as you sped towards the beach. He had one arm draped over the steering wheel, the other alternating between playing chords on the air guitar and messing with your hair.

When the two of you made it to the beach, it was nearly sundown. Alex had taken you to a small village perched on a cliff above a large and sandy seashore, and the two of you parked on a small bluff before hiking down towards the water.

“You know, you said you wanted to swim, but neither of us have swimwear,” Alex called after as you ran down the bluff and onto the beach. You didn’t answer him, though, you just turned to face him and took off your top. Alex was extremely taken-back by what you had just done at first, but when you continued to slip off your shorts and skip down the beach, he caught on and took off his own shirt and jeans. You were quite a bit closer to the water than him when he had done so, but just before you were about to stick your toes in the cold water, a pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground.

You let out a little shriek as Alex threw you over his shoulders. He adjusted his arm around your thigh, and began walking deeper into the water.

While helpless in the arms of the musician, you couldn’t help but notice his boxers. “Nice dino undies, Al. Very badass of you.” You gave him a playful slap on the bum and he slightly tightened his grip on your legs.

“Well I’m sorry that I didn’t expect to be getting naked in public today, Y/N. Not all of us can wear an Agent Provacateur set on some random Tuesday.”

You knew Alex was referring to the undergarments you had chosen this morning, and you laughed. Sure, it was a black and lacy number and looked a bit fancy, but it definitely wasn’t Agent Provacateur. “For your information, Al, I got this at Target. And watch your mouth, Buddy, I’m not some slut that just expects to end the night in her bra and undies. I just like to feel put-together.”

“Oh, trust me Y/N, I’m not complaining,” Alex smirked. He was now waist deep in the waves, and still had you on his shoulders. He shifted you down so he was carrying you bridal style, and grinned at you before biting his lip. “Now are you ready to get wet?”

You smirked to yourself a bit. If you had held my thighs like that any longer, Turner, you wouldn’t have had to put me in the water for that to happen.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Alex,” you laughed. When he told you to hold your breath you did, and at that he tossed you into the water. The cold of the ocean bit you the moment you hit the wave’s surface, and you gasped in shock.

“Jesus it’s cold,” you shrilled. Alex laughed hysterically as you tried to climb on him and out of the water, still shaking due to its temperature. He pushed you off of him, and when an exceptionally large wave came your way he completely submersed himself under it.

“Bloody hell, you’re right. Fucking freezing.” He yelled as his head popped out from the white caps surrounding the two of you. “Why’d you want to do this, Y/N?”

“Well, you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!”

“Well then there you go, my plan worked out perfectly,” you beamed. The late afternoon sun gave Alex a golden tint, and with the combination of his wet curls and the waves surrounding him, you thought he looked something like a Greek god. The thought made you let out a breathy laugh, which caused Alex to scrunch his nose at you.

“Making fun of my Dinosaur boxers again, Y/N?”

You faked a gasp and put a hand over your chest dramatically. “I would never!”

“Then why are you staring, Love?”

Shit.

“Just trying to figure out how I can get you back under the water,” you sniggered. Alex began swimming away from you, so you chased after him and when you were close enough you put your arms around his neck. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, do you know?” Alex chuckled, and hooked his hands under your armpits. He lifted you all the way up and out of the water, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl. When he put you back into the water, you wrapped your legs around his torso and placed your hands on either side of his face. Alex pressed his forehead to yours, and you looked into each other’s eyes.

The two of you were so close you felt like you could feel the atoms between you, and a massive smile painted itself across your face.

“You’ve got gorgeous eyes, Y/N,” Alex whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear over the roaring of the ocean. His comment caused your cheeks to turn as pink as the sunset behind you.

“As do you, Alex.” The two of you were still wrapped in each other’s arms, forehead to forehead and nose to nose. “Now, take me back to shore before it gets too dark. We’ve still got items left on our agenda.”

Alex furrowed his brows before turning around and allowing you to climb on his back. “What more could you possibly have in store for us, Y/N.”

“You’ll see.”

“You know, being with you is like constantly getting left on a cliffhanger.”

“I like that, Al.”

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fearsmagazine · 3 years

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VARÈSE SARABANDE RECORDS Announces RECORD STORE DAY 2021 Releases.

Varèse Sarabande Records will be releasing seven amazing soundtrack LPs on Record Store Day 2021’s newly announced release dates: The Matrix will be released as a deluxe 3-LP set, Village of the Damned will be released as a deluxe-edition double LP, The Iron Giant and The Goonies will get the picture disc treatment, and Shrek, Ghosts of Mars, and Aliens will be released as limited-edition color LPs. This annual celebration will be held through a series of Record Store Day drops, which will occur on June 12th and July 17th.

These seven Varèse Sarabande Records titles will be available on the dates listed below at thousands of independent record stores. For a list of participating stores and more information about these special LPs, visit RecordStoreDay.com.

*JUNE 12th: The Matrix, The Goonies, Village of the Damned, Shrek *JULY 17th: The Iron Giant, Ghosts of Mars, Aliens

THE MATRIX: The Complete Edition – Don Davis (3-LP Set) – *RELEASE DATE: JUNE 12th* The science-fiction masterpiece has captured the imagination of another generation with news of a new Matrix film in production. This deluxe 3-LP set is pressed on Glitter-Infused Green vinyl, expanded to 44 tracks, and housed in a stunning new art design. Also included are classic film stills and an exclusive new interview with composer Don Davis.

TRACK LISTINGS

Side A 1. “Logos / The Matrix Main Title” 2. “Trinity Infinity” 3. “Neo Con Brio” 4. “Follow The White Rabbit” 5. “Neo On The Edge” 6. “Through The Surveillance Monitor” 7. “Unable To Speak” 8. “Bait And Switch”

Side B 1. “Switched For Life” 2. “Switched At Birth” 3. “Switches Brew” 4. “Cold Hearted Switch” 5. “Nascent Nauseous Neo” 6. “A Morpheus Movement” 7. “Bow Whisk Orchestra”

Side C 1. “Domo Showdown” 2. “Switch Or Break Show” 3. “Shake, Borrow, Switch” 4. “Switch Works Her Boa” 5. “Bring Me Dinner” 6. “The System” 7. “Freeze Face” 8. “Switch Woks Her Boar” 9. “Cypher Cybernetic” 10. “Ignorance Is Bliss / Cyber Cyphernetic” 11. “See Who?” 12. “Switch Out”

Side D 1. “Boon Spy” 3. “Oracle Cookies” 4. “Threat Mix” 5. “Exit Mr. Hat” 6. “On Your Knees, Switch”

Side E 1. “Mix The Art” 2. “Whoa, Switch Brokers” 3. “The Cure” 4. “It’s The Smell” 5. “The Lobby” 6. “No More Spoons” 7. “Dodge This” 8. “Fast Learning” 9. “Ontological Shock”

Side F 1. “That’s Gotta Hurt” 2. “Surprise” 3. “He’s The One Alright”

THE GOONIES – David Grusin (Picture Disc) – *RELEASE DATE: JUNE 12TH* In celebration of the 35th anniversary of The Goonies, the beloved soundtrack by Dave Grusin will be released on an LP picture disc for the first time ever! The special release features the album cover on side A and the infamous One-Eyed Willie on side B. The track listing to this abbreviated single-disc version of the original score was personally selected and assembled by Grusin himself.

TRACK LISTINGS

Side A 1. “Fratelli Chase” 2. “Cellar And Sloth” 3. “The Goondocks (Goonies Theme)” 4. “The ‘It,’ Fifty Dollar Bills And A Stiff” 5. “Pee Break And Kissing Tunnel” 6. “Skull And Signature” 7. “Plumbing” 8. “Restaurant Trash” 9. “Boulders, Bats And A Blender”

Side B 1. “They’re Here And Skull Cave Chase” 2. “Playing The Bones” 3. “Mikey’s Vision” 4. “Triple Stones And A Ball” 5. “Wishing Well And The Fratellis Find Coin” 6. “Mama & Sloth” 7. “One Eyed Willie” 8. “No Firme And Pirate Ship”

VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED: The Deluxe Edition – John Carpenter & Dave Davies (2-LP Set) – *RELEASE DATE: JUNE 12TH* The Deluxe Edition for Village of the Damned presents the full score as heard in the film for the first time, a far more complete presentation than the 1995 Original Soundtrack which was not only truncated but made of an entirely separate mix that wasn’t featured in the film. The set does, however, include the track “Midwich Shuffle,” a fun number which was created specifically for the 1995 soundtrack, despite never actually appearing in the film. Interest in John Carpenter’s original film scores has never been higher, and his collaboration with Dave Davies of the Kinks is a one-of-a-kind moment in cinematic music history. The album includes all-new original art direction with new notes and classic film stills and comes pressed on Orange Haze vinyl.

TRACK LISTINGS

Side A 1. “Angel Of Death / Midwich Sleeps / Daybreak” 2. “The Fair (Extended Version)” 3. “Gas Station / Asleep” 4. “Awaken / The Funeral” 5. “Welcome Home, Ben (Extended Version)” 6. “Big Meeting / The Decision” 7. “The Same Dream”

Side B 1. “Baptism (Extended Version)” 2. “Baby Mara” 3. “Children’s Theme / Dilemma” 4. “The Parents Arrive” 5. “Children’s Carol (Instrumental)”

Side C 1. “Loss / Carol Of The Damned” 2. “Carlton” 3. “Ben’s Death / Ultimatum” 4. “Burning Desire (Extended Version)”

Side D 1. “Last Kiss / The Bomb” 2. “The Brick Wall (Extended Version)” 3. “March Of The Children (End Credits)” 4. “Midwich Shuffle”

SHREK – Harry Gregson-Williams & John Powell (Limited-Edition Color LP) – *RELEASE DATE: JUNE 12TH* Shrek is the second most successful animated franchise in history and celebrating its 20th anniversary in 2021. Harry Gregson-Williams and John Powell are two of the most prominent composers working on animated features today, and they joined forces to create a score that is still as fun and memorable as it was when it was first released. The LP will be released on Neon Green vinyl, making it a standout addition to any record lover’s collection.

TRACK LISTINGS

Side A 1. “Fairytale” 2. “Ogre Hunters / Fairytale Deathcamp” 3. “Donkey Meets Shrek” 4. “Eating Alone” 5. “Uninvited Guests” 6. “March Of Farquuad” 7. “The Perfect King” 8. “Welcome To Duloc” 9. “Tournament Speech” 10. “What Kind Of Quest” 11. “Dragon! / Fiona Awakens” 12. “One Of A Kind Knight” 13. “Saving Donkey’s Ass” 14. “Escape From The Dragon”

Side B 1. “Helmet Hair” 2. “Delivery Boy / Shrek / Making Camp” 3. “Friends Journey To Duloc” 4. “Starry Night” 5. “Singing Princess” 6. “Better Out Than In / Sunflower / I’ll Tell Him” 7. “Merry Men” 8. “Fiona Kicks Ass” 9. “Fiona’s Secret” 10. “Why Wait To Be Wed / You Thought Wrong” 11. “Ride The Dragon” 12. “I Object” 13. “Transformation / The End”

THE IRON GIANT – Michael Kamen (Picture Disc) – *RELEASE DATE: JULY 17TH* This first-ever picture disc of this heartwarming 1999 animated film celebrates The Robot, his best friend, Hogarth, and a cast of characters. The music is by Academy Award®-nominated composer Michael Kamen (Lethal Weapon, Die Hard), who was well-known for his work with Eric Clapton, Metallica and Pink Floyd, in addition to his brilliant theatrical scores.

TRACK LISTINGS

Side A 1. “The Eye Of The Storm” 2. “Hogarth Hughes” 3. “Into The Forest” 4. “The Giant Wakes” 5. “Come And Get It” 6. “Cat And Mouse” 7. “Train Wreck” 8. “You Can Fix Yourself?” 9. “Hand Underfoot” 10. “Bedtime Stories” 11. “We Gotta Hide” 12. “His Name Is Dean” 13. “Eating Art” 14. “Space Car” 15. “Souls Don’t Die”

Side B 1. “Contest Of Wills” 2. “The Army Arrives” 3. “Annie And Dean” 4. “He’s A Weapon” 5. “The Giant Discovered” 6. “Trance-Former” 7. “No Following” 8. “The Last Giant Piece”

GHOSTS OF MARS – John Carpenter (Limited-Edition Color LP) – *RELEASE DATE: JULY 17TH* In celebration of Ghosts of Mars’ 20th anniversary, the epic soundtrack will be released on “Red Planet” vinyl. John Carpenter recruited an unbelievable cast of musicians to record the soundtrack to this sci-fi horror film, starring Ice Cube and Natasha Henstridge. Among the featured players are GRAMMY®-winning musician Steve Vai, most of the heavy metal band Anthrax (including Scott Ian), Elliot Eason of the rock band The Cars, Buckethead of Guns N’ Roses, and Robin Finck of Nine Inch Nails and Guns N’ Roses. This soundtrack is apocalyptic and an important mark in John Carpenter’s unparalleled career as a director and composer.

TRACK LISTINGS

Side A 1. “Ghosts Of Mars” 2. “Love Siege” 3. “Fight Train” 4. “Visions Of Earth” 5. “Kick Ass”

Side B 1. “Slashing Void” 2. “Power Station” 3. “Can't Let You Go” 4. “Dismemberment Blues” 5. “Fightin’ Mad” 6. “Pam Grier’s Head” 7. “Ghost Poppin’”

ALIENS: 35th Anniversary Edition – James Horner (Limited-Edition Color LP) – *RELEASE DATE: JULY 17TH* Aliens is regarded as one of the greatest science fiction franchises of all-time. In honor of its 35th anniversary, the long out-of-print original soundtrack gets a fresh reboot on Acid-Blood Yellow-Green vinyl. The soundtrack is scored by the great Academy Award®-winning composer James Horner (Titanic, Avatar, Beautiful Mind). The LP features the original Sigourney Weaver key art and original film stills.

TRACK LISTINGS

Side A 1. “Main Title” 2. “Going After Newt” 3. “Sub-Level 3” 4. “Ripley’s Rescue” 5. “Atmosphere Station”

Side B 1. “Futile Escape” 2. “Dark Discovery” 3. “Bishop’s Countdown” 4. “Resolution And Hyperspace”

ABOUT VARÈSE SARABANDE RECORDS

Founded in 1978, Varèse Sarabande is the most prolific producer of film music in the world, releasing the highest quality soundtracks from the world’s greatest composers. From current box office hits and top television series to the classics of Hollywood’s Golden Age, Varèse Sarabande’s catalog includes albums from practically every composer in every era, covering all of film history; from Bernard Herrmann, Alex North and Jerry Goldsmith to Alexandre Desplat, Michael Giacchino and Brian Tyler. Varèse Sarabande is a part of Concord.

Follow: twitter.com/varesesarabande

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12xurecs · 3 years

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coming January 15, 2021 Chris Brokaw - ‘Puritan’ (12XU 122-1) Chris Brokaw is the consummate underground rock musician. In a career spanning thirty-plus years he has been in countless bands (Come, Charnel Ground, Codeine, The Lemonheads, to name a few) has been a sideman with everyone from Thurston Moore to GG Allin, pounded countless stages on nonstop tours, and played on over seventy recordings. Puritan is his tenth solo album and it's a killer. 

From the hypnotic repetition on the extended instrumental outro of title-track opener 'Puritan', the wounded grace of 'Depending', to the fragile beauty of the Velvets-esque duet with Claudia Groom, 'I'm the Only One for You', and the ghost of Alex Chilton echoing through 'The Bragging Rights', onto the GBV-like firestorm of 'Periscope Kids', and ending with the ‘On The Beach’ era Neil Young minimal strum of his cover of Karl Hendricks’ “The Night Has No Eyes”, Brokaw has crafted an understated masterpiece. ‘Puritan’ is an album that is all heartache and rebirth, resignation and joy, the kind of record that is so needed but all too rare these days. A classic from front to back. - Mark Lanegan 2020 (fig 2 photo : Anthony Saffery, fig 3 photo : Andy Hong) Q&A with Chris Brokaw on 'Puritan' Q: How long has it been since your last solo record and what have you been doing in the time between? A : My last solo record "End Of The Night" came out in May 2019. Since then I finished up some Lemonheads touring, toured the west coast with a band playing my new record (Lori Goldston on cello, Greg Kelley on trumpet, Luther Gray on drums, Dave Abramson on drums, me on guitar), toured Japan with Thalia Zedek (solos + duos), toured Europe with my band Charnel Ground (me +Doug McCombs and Kid Millions), toured the west coast again playing guitar in Doug McCombs' band Brokeback, played a duo gig with Mike IX Williams in Boston...and then the plague hit. I've just been teaching guitar + drums on Skype since then, recording a little, laying low in Cambridge. The last album I did of rock songs, with vocals and lyrics, was in 2013, and I guess I've been gathering material since then. Q: Can you tell me a little about your songwriting method? CB : Most of them take a long time. Sometimes I'll have 8 seconds of a song, totally realized, I can hear a whole band doing it in my head as if it's on a record....and then I just wait, and eventually form the rest of the song around it. I've written some songs using mesostics and/or acrostics, tho none on this record. "The Heart of Human Trafficking" took a long time, and I had to take a leap of faith to conclude that it was actually done, that the particular form it took was finished. "Puritan" I wrote about a week before we recorded it. The band totally nailed it in the studio but I was still writing the lyrics at the microphone. I had to make it a crowd of voices, sort of tripping over one another, trying to form a path. In both these songs I was really happy to have the results be surprising. At this point I most happily await things from myself that I don't totally recognize. "I'm The Only One For You" I wrote originally for a movie, a short ghost story called 'Mother's Garden'. The song is kind of a period piece, but then I fell in love with it. Originally it was pretty short but one night I was playing it with my trio in this cavernous brewery in Massachusetts and was like, what happens if we just stretch this out...in this room with this huge high ceiling... "Report To An Academy" was named after a Rudyard Kipling story of the same name. I tried to use some of the ideas in the story, specifically the thoughts of a creature trying to imitate humans, as a jumping off point, but I couldn't fit a vocal or lyrics into the song, and it stayed an instrumental. I was going through a period where I felt like I was imitating humans....negotiating some changes. "Periscope Kids" I was trying to get something really sand- blasted-sounding. I'm a big fan of Nico and I was thinking of her a lot on this one. The Periscope Kids were a couple I knew in Seattle and they were bad news and that whole song is bad news. My songs aren't like Johnny Cash songs, most of them only I will probably know what they're really all about. That's ok, for better or worse I think that's how it has to be. Whatever people get out of them, that's great. Much of what's in them is literal for me but maybe not for the listener. Q) How long have these songs been gestating? CB : "Periscope Kids" is oldest, I think around 2014. "Puritan" one week old. Everything else in between. Q) Can you pick a couple songs that hold particular meaning to you and talk about them? CB: "Depending" is probably my favorite. So far it seems to be everyone's favorite. It feels stately, and it's nice to just step into that. There's a line in "Depending" where I say: "I never thought, moving my lot alone across a prairie I'd have the thought to give up my bones unto the birds to carry whether I drive, whether I park and wait a few, it won't depend on you" And I mean that was me literally driving a truck with all my shit across the country from Seattle to Boston in 2017, extremely uncertain about what was ahead after a pretty disasterous period out west...and thinking at one point, in some part of the country where you don't see any cars or trucks or houses for hours, maybe I should just drive off a cliff and let the vultures pick my bones clean....And whether I do or not... that's my call! Sort of a declaration of independence. - Which I thought was grim and insane and funny all at once. It still cracks me up. "I'm The Only One For You", like I said, went from being a sort of pastiche to this kind of lush romanticism I've only dreamed of. My friend Claudia Groom (formerly of the Seattle band Juned) did such an amazing vocal on it...it fucking kills me, the band plays so beautifully...I'm very happy with it. "The Night Has No Eyes" is the one cover, written by a dude from Pittsburgh named Karl Hendricks who passed away in 2017. I did the song originally for a tribute/benefit album, but re-recorded it with Thalia for this. It closes the album with a voice that feels about forgiveness and/or acceptance, and while that voice is essentially an outsider's it seemed like a conciliatory way to end an album that is working through a bunch of other shit. Q) Inspiration? CB: I've come to love playing and singing, but came sort of late to a lot of it, so I feel like I'm still finding my way in it. It's one of a few different things I do. Like I said earlier I'm always happy to get surprised by the songs that come out. I wrote "Puritan" right before we recorded and it's definitely about moving back to New England, a place I'm not from (I grew up in New York) but one I've fallen in love with and I think found my place in. I think saying "Chris Brokaw: Puritan" is deliberately funny but maybe I'll be the only one laughing on that. The album is definitely threaded with ideas about how people judge one another, but....I don't know, I don't want to explain shit. Explaining art is terrible. The Chris Brokaw Rock Band : Chris Brokaw guitar, vocals Dave Carlson - bass guitar Pete Koeplin - drums with special guests : Tricia Adelmann - vocal on "I Can't Sleep" Claudia Groom - vocal on "I'm The Only One For You" Thalia Zedek - vocal, guitar on "The Bragging Rights" and "The Night Has No Eyes" Recorded and mixed by Andy Hong at Kimchee, Cambridge MA 2019/2020. "Bragging Rights" and "The Night Has No Eyes", recorded by Britt Robischeaux at Cloudland, Fort Worth, TX, November 2019. Mastered at Chicago Mastering Service by Matthew Barnhart. All songs written by Chris Brokaw except "The Night Has No Eyes" (written by Karl Hendricks, lyrics used by permission). LP layout and design by James Keeler. Front cover photo by Sasha Syeed.

#chris brokaw #codeine #come #consonant #charnel ground #mark lanegan #12XU #puritan

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justforbooks · 4 years

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The Best Spy Novels to Read While Stuck at Home

Forty, page-turning spy novels, to Keep you on the edge of your seat. Marked by an exhilarating pace, plenty of dramatic twists, and richly drawn complex protagonists, spy novels are about as riveting as it gets in the library. And while all the excitement of double agents and espionage keeps you at the edge of your seat, these books also offer insight into fascinating and troubling historical periods.

In the name of thrilling reading, no matter what time of year and to wrestle with larger philosophical questions of betrayal, human connection, and the legacy of international conflict, I rounded up 40 of the best spy novels around, to read while stuck at home. Written by former CIA and other intelligence agents and some of the most prolific literary minds of all time, get to know the best spy novels below.

Here are my picks for the best spy novels you have to read while stuck at home.

Rosalie Knecht, Who Is Vera Kelly?

1962 in New York City's Greenwich Village and Argentina. A radio show host is struggling to make ends meet and fit into the underground gay scene when she gets recruited by the CIA to wiretap a crooked congressman in Argentina, and works her way into a radical group of students planning a coup. Think coming-of-age meets historical fiction with a strong female protagonist.

Jason Matthews, Red Sparrow

Modern-day Russia. Dominika Egorova is forced into becoming a secret agent that uses her sultry beauty to seduce an American CIA officer. When she develops genuine feelings for him, her loyalties begin to shift and the plot thickens.

Gina Apostol, Gun Dealer's Daughter

1980s Marcos-era Philippines and modern-day America. Though this book doesn't follow a linear chronology, it reflects Sol's fragmented memory and trauma. As a young woman limited by the comfort of her wealth, she seeks to overthrow the Marcos regime. Spying on the American generals and Philippine elite from her own fancy dinner table, Sol's loyalties struggle between her family, homeland, and her insurgent student friends. Politically charged, lyrical, and eye-opening, this is a must-read.

Helen MacInnes, Agent in Place

New York, Washington, D.C., and the French Riviera during the Cold War. When a Russian spy who's expertly infiltrated Washington society gets his hands on a top-secret NATO memorandum, a high-profile CIA officer's cover is blown in Moscow. Now, everyone is racing against time to uncover who the Russian spy actually is.

Viet Thanh Nguyen, The Sympathizer

1975 Vietnam and Los Angeles, A half-French, half-Vietnamese double agent relocates to America after the fall of Saigon, and betrayal, both personal and political, ensues. At once a love story and a spy novel about the legacy and evils of colonialism, the Vietnam War, and ensuing refugee experience in the U.S. you won't soon forget The Sympathizer. It's satirical, sharp, suspenseful, and poignant.

Joseph Kanon, Leaving Berlin

Post-WWII Berlin, Germany. Alex Meier is a young German Jew who fled to America at the onset of WWII to escape Nazi persecution. But with the Cold War underway, it's the peak of the McCarthy era, and he's pigeon-holed into working undercover in East Berlin for the CIA. It's the only way he won't be deported. But when he gets there, he finds out that his target is the woman he loved and left behind before the war. It's a thought-provoking and action-packed love story.

Joseph Conrad, The Secret Agent

London, late 1800s. A shop-owner gets wrapped up in an anarchist scheme to bomb the Greenwich Observatory, but the plan goes wrong and throws his life into chaos. It raises philosophical questions and is a literary masterpiece, but that doesn't keep it from being a thrilling, entertaining read.

John Le Carré, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Post-WWII Britain. Unhappily retired after a failed mission, an aging officer sets out to catch a traitor who has worked their way into the highest ranks of British intelligence. Full of political and social commentary with a fast-paced plot, there's a reason this is such a classic.

Ian McEwan, The Innocent

Berlin, 1955. A young Englishman living in American-occupied Berlin is commissioned to install the tape recorders that that will wiretap Russians in Soviet-occupied East Berlin. He begins spying on the Americans for the Brits while helping the Americans spy on the Russians. But, he fails as a spy, and the plot becomes more complicated when he falls in love with an older German with a violent, possessive ex-husband.

Lauren Wilkinson, American Spy

Burkina Faso. In the FBI, Marie Mitchell sticks out as a young black woman. In American Spy, Marie wades through a sea of a mostly white male intelligence community, and an assignment to Burkina Faso, where she meets Thomas Sankara, revolutionary president of the landlocked, West African country.

John le Carré, The Spy Who Came in From the Cold

Cold War-era Germany. British intelligence agent Alec Leamas should be on his way back to London, but one more job—an undercover mission to topple East German intelligence, leads Leamas back into dangerous territory. In an interview with Electric Literature, author Lauren Wilkinson (author of American Spy) calls this spy novel "terrific."

Susan Hasler, Intelligence

Post-9/11 America, during an election year. Intelligence trails Maddie James, a CIA counterterrorism analyst as she pursues an al-Qaida operation with an eccentric team. Meanwhile, the Administration is more interested in maintaining the message that America is winning the war on terror. According to author Susan Hasler, a former member of the CIA, writing the novel was a way to cope with residual 9/11 period anger.

Valerie Plame, Blowback

Cyprus. Young, blonde CIA operative Vanessa Pierson assumes the identify of a financial adviser in Cyprus on a reconnaissance mission. Her target: An international arms dealer, Bhoot, who is believed to be aiding Iran to bolster its nuclear activities. With an assassin on her trail, Blowback is full of fast-paced action scenes, as well as intimate details that the Washington Post describes "might elude a male writer." Blowback is co-authored by former CIA agent Valerie Plame, and Sarah Lovett.

Stella Rimington, At Risk

Britain. British intelligence taps Liz Carlyle, a scrappy counter terror agent to stop a terrorist attack. And the person of interest is traveling under a British passport, an "invisible." Author Stella Rimington relies on her former life as a high-ranking spy to author At Risk, Rimington's debut novel.

Patricia Wentworth, Hue and Cry

London. Before Mally Lee's wedding in six months, she accepts a position as governess to a shipping magnate's young daughter. Upon entering the Peterson grounds, however, Lee will be accused of being a thief and spy. Mally flees, leaving her fiancé in emotional shambles and private investigators in hot pursuit. What has Mally stumbled into?

Irène Némirovsky, The Courilof Affair

18th century Russia. Léon M, son of Russian revolutionaries, is tasked with assassinating the ruthless Valerian Alexandrovitch Courilof, Russian Minister of Education. Fronting as Courilof's personal physician, Léon M works his way into Courilof's summer house, and as his relationship with Courilof grows, learns things are more complicated than they seem.

Stephenie Meyer, The Chemist

United States. A page-turning tale of an ex-agent on the run from her former employer (a clandestine, unnamed agency). To clear her name, she accepts one more job that will put her in an even more precarious position. But, the job goes south. What now?

Jennifer Chiaverini, The Spymistress

Civil War-era America. Elizabeth Van Lew is a Union loyalist living in the Confederacy, and she will risk it all to help build the Richmond underground, break free inmates from Confederate Libby Prison, and gather military intelligence under the pretense of humanitarian aid. In this historical novel inspired by a true story, Van Lew's contributions during the Civil War comes alive.

John Buchan, The Thirty-Nine Steps

Over a century old, and Buchan’s adventure novel still passes muster. The first of five novels featuring an all-action hero with a stiff upper lip, Richard Hannay, this is unpredictable, exciting fare – and will keep you guessing until the last page.

Graham Greene, The Quiet American

A novel depicting French colonialism being uprooted in Vietnam may not sound like the most thrilling you’ve ever heard, but in the hands of English literary giant Graham Greene, anything is possible. Featuring British journalism, undercover CIA agents, illegitimate marriage and a light smattering of car bombs, there is action balanced with considered philosophy – and the book is all the better for it.

Frederick Forsyth, The Day of the Jackal

Telling the tale of a professional assassin – tasked by a French dissident organisation to kill the President of France – Forsyth’s novel was met with praise when it was first published, and remains so to this day. Of course, the 1973 film adaptation starring the suave Edward Fox did nothing to help with the stories success...

Robert Ludlum, The Bourne Identity

We all know Matt Damon’s award-winning portrayal of Ludlum’s most famous character, but how many of us have read the novels? If not, you’ll be glad to know that these tales of amnesia, backstabbing and action are just as thrilling on the page – and that Eric Van Lustbader has added to the cannon, with an additional 11 Bourne books available to read.

Tom Clancy, The Hunt for Red October

Tom Clancy’s debut novel remains his best. Introducing Jack Ryan, the CIA analyst throw into the field, it one again tackles Soviet themes and the adventures of a group of US Navy officers taking possession of a nuclear submarine. It’s thrilling fare, and Clancy’s talent to bring the appeal of classic espionage into modern-day storytelling is impressive to say the least.

Len Deighton, The IPCRESS File

Len Deighton’s first spy novel, like Tom Clancy’s, is also his best. More famous for the Michael Caine-fronted film spun from its pages, this original novel involves Cold War brainwashing, a United State atomic weapons test and an extended sequence in Lebanon – and makes use of spy novel trope to be employed for years to come: that of the nameless protagonist.

John le Carré, The Tailor of Panama

He is Harry Pendel: Exclusive tailor to Panama’s most powerful men. Informant to British Intelligence. The perfect spy in a country rife with corruption and revolution. What his “handlers” don’t realize is that Harry has a hidden agenda of his own. Deceiving his friends, his wife, and practically himself, he’ll weave a plot so fabulous it exceeds his own vivid imagination. But when events start to spin out of control, Harry is suddenly in over his head—thrown into a lethal maze of politics and espionage, with unthinkable consequences...

Eric Ambler, A Coffin for Dimitrios

A chance encounter with a Turkish colonel leads Charles Latimer, the author of a handful of successful mysteries, into a world of sinister political and criminal maneuvers. At first merely curious to reconstruct the career of the notorious Dimitrios, whose body has been identified in an Istanbul morgue, Latimer soon finds himself caught up in a shadowy web of assassination, espionage, drugs, and treachery that spans the Balkans.

Ken Follett, Eye of the Needle

“His code name was “The Needle.” He was a German aristocrat of extraordinary intelligence—a master spy with a legacy of violence in his blood, and the object of the most desperate manhunt in history... But his fate lay in the hands of a young and vulnerable English woman, whose loyalty, if swayed, would assure his freedom—and win the war for the Nazis...“

Olen Steinhauer, The Tourist

Milo Weaver has tried to leave his old life of secrets and lies behind by giving up his job as a “tourist” for the CIA―an undercover agent with no home, no identity. Now he’s working a desk at the agency’s New York headquarters. But when the arrest of a long-sought-after assassin sets off an investigation into a colleague, exposing new layers of intrigue in his old cases, he has no choice but to go back undercover and find out who’s been behind it all from the very beginning.

Graham Greene, Our Man in Havana

MI6’s man in Havana is Wormold, a former vacuum-cleaner salesman turned reluctant secret agent out of economic necessity. To keep his job, he files bogus reports based on Charles Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare and dreams up military installations from vacuum-cleaner designs. Then his stories start coming disturbingly true...

Erskine Childers, The Riddle of the Sands

The classic spy novel by Erskine Childers, credited as the first work of modern espionage fiction. Set in pre-World War I Europe, two British subject, Carruthers and Davies, uncover secret German activity suggesting a prelude to war.

Tom Bradby, Secret Service

What if your next national leader was secretly a Russian spy? Kate Henderson is a high-ranking officer of England's MI6—and a recent undercover operation has revealed explosive intel. Russia has infiltrated the upper levels of UK politics by co-opting a senior politician. To make matters worse, there may be a mole moving through the halls of England's Secret Intelligence Service. With an election looming, Kate is in a race to expose the double agents and save those she holds dear. But who can be trusted? Acclaimed British author and journalist Tom Bradby excels at crafting pulse-pounding narratives set against the backdrop of true-life events. In Secret Service, the author delivers a tense and timely spy thriller where the greatest threat comes from within.

James Grady, Condor: The Short Takes

In this novella, the iconic CIA operative Condor is back in a series of new adventures. New York Times-bestselling author James Grady brings back his famous spy but in a surprising setting. Six Days of the Condor was popular during the paranoid era of the 1970s as Condor was a spy in his prime who ruthlessly and heroically deals with a conspiracy within the United States government. In Condor: The Short Takes, Grady presents an aged Condor who finds himself in a modern setting and with 21st century threats. The original framework is present but the stories are far more intimate and less straightforward. Condor finds himself involved in cyber threats and the 9/11 aftermath; perhaps an even bigger scandal than the Cold War. The master of intrigue brings you six stories that are sure to leave you on the edge of your seat; can Condor soar over the obstacles or will he falter and fall? This is perfect for any fans of the hit original series, Condor!

John Lawton, A Little White Death

A social and sexual revolution was had throughout most of the world during the 1960s, and England was no exception. John Lawton's novel implants remnants of this revolution into the third book of his Inspector Troy series. This novel follows Inspector Troy—despite many career set-backs—as he rises to the head of CID at Scotland Yard. However, before the chief detective can celebrate, he finds himself deep into a scandal reminiscent of the Profumo affair. Troy becomes entangled in a web as he attempts to battle illness, police politics, and the Establishment. He must focus on protecting those affected by the aftermath of the scandal and discover who murdered the two key players in the scandal.

Brian Freemantle, Charlie M

Charlie Muffin came into the British secret service in the early 1950s, when the desperate government was in search of more foot soldiers in the impending Cold War. They decided to look into the middle class for the first time and found what they were looking for in Charlie. Even though he is a working-class, state-educated man from Manchester, Charlie has been one of the most effective agents of the secret service. However, times are changing as Cambridge and Oxford graduates are ready to take over again. They have decided it's time to sacrifice Charlie, but he won't go down easy. This exhilarating novel of double-crossing is excellent for fans of le Carre or Deighton!

Patricia Wentworth, Dead or Alive

In this suspenseful tale by British crime author Patricia Wentworth, Meg O'Hara's husband Robin disappears on the day she plans to divorce him. A year after the presumed body of her dead husband is found, someone breaks into her apartment to leave a shocking message. Now Meg is left to uncover if her husband is dead or alive. As more cryptic messages appear, Meg is certain that someone—maybe even her husband—is trying to get to her...but no one takes her seriously. Well, except for Bill Coverdale. For years Bill has been deeply in love with Meg, so he sets out to get to the bottom of things. Together, they find themselves embroiled in blackmail, forgery, and murder all while facing an unstoppable criminal mastermind.

John Altman, A Game of Spies

In preparation of Germany's invasion of France, England needs to gather classified information on Germany...and there's only one highly skilled spy who can get the job done: Agent William Hobbs. During the bleak winter of 1940, Hobbs meets the naive Eva Bernhardt and seduces her into working for the British secret service. Smitten with Agent Hobbs and disenchanted by Hitler, Eva agrees to seek information from the Führer’s inner circle. As Hobbs and Eva plunge into the world of espionage, intrigue, and deception, Eva quickly transforms into a tough and cynical operative, using her feminine guile and manipulative skills to obtain crucial knowledge. A Game of Spies is a thrilling tale with an even more electrifying conclusion as Eva holds her future, and the future of the entire war, in her hands.

John Lawton, Then We Take Berlin

Meet Joe Wilderness, orphaned by World War II - and certain that this fact will allow him to operate outside of society's bounds and rules for the rest of his life. But when he gets recruited into MI6, he discovers a fast-paced life in Berlin that will force him to go to extremes to accomplish his missions. This stylish thriller is a beloved read, best for fans of Eric Ambler.

Helen MacInnes, The Salzburg Connection

MacInnes may be best known for her first novel, Above Suspicion, but in The Salzburg Connection, written over 20 years later, she had become an expert in espionage beyond compare. In this spy vs spy vs lawyer tale, Richard Bryant, British agent, is one of the few who knows about a secret cache of Nazi information. When he’s found dead, an American lawyer gets caught up in the quest to find the information, before it gets in the wrong hands.

Gayle Lynds, Masquerade

Lynds became popular thanks to a collaborative series with Robert Ludlum, Covert-One, but she had been honing her craft long before The Altman Code’s debut. Like Jason Bourne, Liz Sansborough wakes up one morning to discover that she no longer remembers her life as a CIA agent. Luckily, her lover, Gordon, is there to explain what she has forgotten. But can Gordon–or the world–be trusted? There’s an international assassin after Liz, and she’ll need to figure out whom she can trust quickly.

Chris Pavone, The Travelers

A more recent addition, but one worthy of the list, The Travelers by Chris Pavone sees travel writer Will Rhodes is on assignment for Travelers magazine in the wine region of Argentina when a beautiful woman makes him an offer he can’t refuse. Drawn into a tangled web of international intrigue – like so many thriller protagonists before him – this is a standout in a modern world of throwaway poolside paperbacks.

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sfarticles · 4 years

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Cookbooks are much more than just recipes

Remember these recipe pamphlets from years past? The Washburn-Crosby’s Gold Medal cookbook was published in 1910.

A greeting card I received says, “Get Out Those Cookbooks and Cook Up a Storm.” Why? October is National Cookbook Month. You probably know by reading my columns, I am celebrating.

The Oxford Dictionary defines a cookbook as a “book containing recipes and other information about the preparation of food.” I find them to be so much more; learning about traditions of different cultures, appreciating food photography and reading about recipes prepared across different regions of the U.S. The latter can be found in myriad Junior League, church and other nonprofit organizations’ fundraising cookbooks.

The vintage recipe booklets that take me back to another place and time, and single ingredient cookbooks, are among my favorites. Those pamphlets from the 1950s are retro in design, with the front cover often showing a picture of a well-coiffed woman wearing a dress and a fancy apron while sporting some jewelry, standing by the stove. Some of those recipes just might not be the most appetizing today (think gelatin molds encasing vegetables, American Chop Suey and other creations of the era). Not all are unappealing; recently, some of those comfort foods popular in years past have made a resurgence.

I would rather read a cookbook that tells a story than a novel. For some, it might be a beautiful coffee table book, where not one recipe is used, but the cover has gorgeous visuals. Others have a few on display as a “prop” in their kitchen. Perhaps some of you would appreciate this quote by comedian Rita Rudner: “I read recipes the same way I read science fiction. I get to the end and say to myself, ‘well, that’s not going to happen.’”

For whatever reason one buys or collects cookbooks, they are not going away, as some might think. The internet gives access to millions of recipes, but what is missing are the stories and people behind of the recipes.

Henry Notaker, a food historian, doesn’t think cookbooks will become a thing of the past. After all, many of the food blogs, electronic food media and food television shows are now extending their presence with a cookbook. And, with self-publishing, it is affordable to publish and preserve family heritage recipes and give copies of the cookbook to family and friends.

I recently had new bookcases built to house my ever-expanding collection. It gave me an opportunity to visit titles that have been tucked behind others. I thought revisiting and sharing some of my “finds” would be a fun way to celebrate. To help you celebrate, check out the quizzes below, revisit one of your old favorites and prepare a recipe, or buy that cookbook you always wanted

1. Cookbooks have been with us for a very long time. The oldest known cookbook was written on clay tablets and dates from the 18th century BCE. Which culture left it for us?

A. Babylonian

B. Roman

C. Chinese

D. Inca

2. Who was the French “king of chefs and chef of kings” who published his “Guide Culinaire” in 1903, which is still in use today?

A. Frank Beard

B. Paul Bocuse

C. Wolfgang Puck

D. August Escoffier

3. While she was living in France, after working for the OSS in World War II, Julia Child attended which famous cooking school before collaborating with Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle to create her famous cookbook, “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”?

A. International Culinary Center

B. The Cordon Bleu

C. French Culinary Institute

D. The Culinary Institute of America France Campus

4. When this woman wasn’t touring as part of her and her husband’s rock ‘n’ roll band, she was a cookbook writer and food impresario in her own right. She was an ardent vegetarian, once saying, “If slaughterhouses had glass walls the whole world would be vegetarian.” Who was she?

A. Judy Collins

B. Stevie Nicks

C. Linda McCartney

D. Joan Baez

5. Whose 1896 “The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book” has stayed in print for over a century, and is often referred to only by the author’s name?

A. Rose Elliott

B. Fannie Farmer

C. Susie Fishbein

D. Richard Kimball

6. Who wrote the popular cookbook, “30 Minute Meals”?

A. Martha Stewart

B. Emeril Lagasse

C. Bobby Flay

D. Rachael Ray

7. This cookbook, by Irma Rombauer and Marion Rombauer Becker, has become so familiar that its title was modified to become the title of a bestselling book by Alex Comfort. What is this cookbook’s title?

8. Which of these cookbook titles are not real?

1. “Microwave Cooking for One”

2. “The Male Chauvinist Cookbook”

3. “Manifold Destiny: The One! The Only! Guide to Cooking on Your Car Engine”

4. “Cooking in the Nude”

5. “The Pyromaniac Cookbook”

6. “The Dracula Cookbook”

7. “Revolting Recipes”

8. “Special Effects Cookbook”

9. “Serial Killer Cookbook”

10. “Ugly Food”

11. “Season to Taste with Human Tears”

12. “The Carrot Cleanse: 50 Detoxing Carrot Recipes”

To see the answers and the recipes, please visit,

https://www.ctinsider.com/living/nhregister/article/Stephen-Fries-Cookbooks-are-much-more-than-just-15644253.php?cmpid=gsa-nhregister-result&_ga=2.181385959.1536727742.1603022429-1128023684.1499900500

or email me [email protected]

#national cookbook month #cookbooks #vintage cookbooks

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am-imagines · 5 years

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Legendary 3.5 Morgan!Reader

You wake up before anyone else. The sky is still dark, and the city is silent when you get up. Your phone says is barely past five, and you wonder when was the last time you slept for eight hours.

It’s hard to do so when every time you close your eyes, a nightmare emerges. It’s always about that day; how she wouldn’t pick up the phone just as a breaking news interrupted whatever you were watching on tv. You can’t remember a lot about that day, but you remember the pain.

There’s always a memory coming to the surface ready to break your heart all over again.

It’s been three years, but somehow the pain is still fresh. It clogs your throat while you rub the sleep away from your eyes. It doesn’t matter how many times you talk about it, or how many hours you’ve spent on therapy, you still wait for her to come home.

Hope is killing you.

Maybe you latch onto it because you’d only have anger otherwise. That bittersweet mix of heartache and pain has propelled you forward instead of driving you to self-destruction. You don’t know what letting go means or how to start that process.

No one can show you the way, so you are content staying as you are.

It’s not easy or pretty, but it’s better than giving up.

You leave the bed and change for the day. It’s one of those rare day offs to recover after a match, but you’re not sure what to do if it’s not soccer.

Being extra careful not to wake up Janice, you leave the room to wander aimlessly for the better part of an hour. You leave the hotel, and the city opens its mysteries for you.

You find a deserted playground that has had better times, and next to it stands a forgotten pitch. You can imagine the kids that once played there; full of energy and with the biggest dreams. You made what they dreamed of; be professional and play in a World Cup.

You enter the pitch along with your ball; a little worn out but still with the Orlando Pride colors shining through. Taking a few shots is the way to go when you want to center your mind. It would have been easy to use the training facilities instead, but you aren’t a star or the daughter of a legend when you’re here. Right there you are just Y/n.

“I wondered where you’d end this morning.”

You turn around to find Janice by the fence; hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

She doesn’t judge, and you smile at her. She’s your best friend, and the reason your thoughts aren’t darker most of the time. O’Hara has been the source of your laughter thanks to her usually stupid, but endlessly edearing, personality.

“I have a phone, you know?”

You might enjoy being on your own, but that doesn’t mean you’re completely reckless. And you certainly don’t want to disappear without notice, much less in a foreign country.

“I like to think I know you well enough to find you without calling first.”

You’re not quite sure if that’s the case or you weren’t sneaky enough and she simply followed you. However, you don’t have enough evidence to call her out.

“And that you did. Do you need me for something?”

“I need my best friend to come surf with me.”

“Janice, I don’t…”

“We’re in Australia! Mom is waiting for us on the car, and I don’t accept no as an answer.”

You have half a mind to argue because surfing isn’t your strong suit. But it makes your best friend happy, and you’re willing to go back to the sea for her. To some degree, it’s another way to be closer to your mother.

At the end of the day, you feel lighter than you’ve done in years.

You sing along to the radio when Kelley takes you back to the hotel. She hugs you for a long moment. Kelley lost her sister, and there’s a day when she doesn’t think about Alex. Her daughter reminds her of Alex, and so do you.

In a way, you have each other, and that helps you to stay afloat.

The change you’ve experienced is noticeable; the entire team sees it. No one says a thing, but they make sure to stay close; enjoying this side of you.

You believe this team is meant to change the world in more ways than just soccer.

They’re changing you for the better, even if you can’t see that yet.

***

“Pick your captain,” Pinoe says putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Harris.”

This is something Sonnett and Rapinoe implemented. They allow the team to pick the captain on every match based on effort, leadership and partnership. There’s no hard feelings, no doubts, and what the team feels is crystal clear.

So far, Harris has been the usual choice. The team supports her, and she does the same for the team. It’s a well deserved badge, and one opportunity Krash doesn’t waste.

“O’Hara?”

“Harris.”

One by one, all of you pick your goalie as the captain. The golden badge finds its place on her arm before Pinoe goes over the strategy to face Brazil.

It isn’t too different from how you played against Germany, but it takes into account their speed. It’s one of their biggest strengths; one you’re ready for.

But you’re not ready for one of the most beautiful finishes you’ve ever seen.

The world stops and you see it happening; someone in a yellow jersey taking a shot within an inch of free space. You see it soar with crazy effect, and a moment later is already on the back of the net.

There’s a general sense of frustration while Brazil celebrates, but there’s nothing you could have done better. The defense was tight as it could have been. Harris stretched as much as she could, but it was one hell of a goal; finding its home in the top right corner.

“Brazil scores first on this match, and the game is now uphill for the USA. Can they come back? We shall see.”

USA trails by one and the atmosphere in the stadium changes completely.

People don’t believe in you or the team, that much is obvious when the cheering stops and people boo whenever you touch the ball. It’s infuriating, but the only way to shut them up is by playing better. The change you long to see starts on the field; starts with the ball on your feet.

It’s like they don’t see Brazil playing. They don’t see what they do right, and instead focus solely on what you do wrong. It’s a fair point of view, you guess, but then again, you couldn’t have done anything better in that play. People don’t care.

Winning this game won’t matter if you don’t win the next. And whatever you do in the group stage will be in vain if you don’t win the Cup. It seems unfair, but after so many years of nothing, the entire nation has lost faith in you.

In a way, this isn’t much different from the little soccer pitch forgotten in an alley.

It’s you and some friends going against the rest of the world. Brazil isn’t the enemy, not really. They’re just trying to achieve the same thing as you while wearing a different jersey. That’s the game, and more often than not, life.

The enemy is the phantom voice of the people pulling you down through the years. The people shutting your efforts down when the results aren’t exactly what you want. You’ll find the victory that no one sees coming, the victory after everyone has left the boat.

If they don’t want to believe, no one can force them. But you’ll win anyway.

You don’t react to the crowd or the words trying to break your focus. You only care about the team, and you cheer them on along Harris. The game plan hasn’t changed, so you push forward and close the lines so they can’t use their speed.

It’s another lucky shot that puts the score 2-0 in their favor just when the first half is about to end.

“Oh, come on!”

Soccer is a game of skill as much as it is of luck, and apparently, the Gods are on Brazil’s side. But you’re not one to go down without a fight. You can’t.

“Is this the beginning of the end for this team?”

The team seems defeated when they make their way to the locker room, and even Rapinoe struggles to find the right words.

“I think it is. After what we saw versus Germany, I feel like they don’t know what to do now. Maybe they found an accidental victory last time, but that won’t happen again. They won’t be able to top this poor performance.”

“We’ll win the next game,” Harris offers when it seems no one really knows what to say.

“No!” You intercede. “This isn’t over yet.”

“Y/n,” Press calls shaking her head.

“No! Come on, coach.” You look at Pinoe and then to Sonnett. “Don’t let them win. I’m not talking about Brazil; if we lose against them I know we’ll come back ten times stronger, but don’t let the crowd win. If we give up before this game is over, when how can we expect them to believe in us? They expect us to fail, and I expect more from us.”

“What about the talent on this team?”

Long is the first one to nod; trademark smirk back in place. Her silent support makes your confidence grow, and soon enough, you’re perched on a chair.

“It’s moment to reconsider if it’s actually there of if it’s what we want to see. Everybody wants the dream team back, and with two members of the golden era leading them, it was easy to believe. But let me tell you right now, this isn’t the dream team even with all those kids with big names on their backs. The USWNT won’t make it to the next round. They won’t be able to win tonight, and they won’t win against Australia. It’s over.”

“This team was built from Titans and some of us watched them play. I know we’ve heard the story of the generation that changed women’s soccer forever. But the truth is: we aren’t less than them. We can change it all again. We can make people believe in what we do; in who we are. If Pinoe went against the most tasteless cheto to ever be president and came victorious, why can’t we go against the odds? Why can’t we go back out there and do what we do best?”

“There you have it, folks. It’s time to go back to the action to see the end of this match.”

Your speech brings life back to their eyes and soon, the whole team is ready to face the challenge. Some people would call it reckless optimism, but you’ve seen what this team can do. There’s only one way to see if you have enough to win the tournament, and that’s by leaving everything but hope on the field.

Even if it kills you.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Sonnett says and hatches a new plan.

***

Brazil is almost impossibly fast but so is Press. She takes after Christeen; a player capable of zooming from 0 to 80 in two seconds. She’s your entrance point when she uses every bit of skill learned from Heath.

If you talk about fast, then you have to talk about Janice’s transition between defense and offense. She stops Brazil’s attack, and a second later, she joins you at the front; sharp as a knife and ready for the kill.

Long is precise as a surgeon. She follows your lead like no one else can. She’s practically reading your mind; knowing exactly what you want to do and how.

It takes the team around ten minutes to decipher Brazil’s defense before shattering it.

Janice moves with ease to pass the ball to Press. A bicycle and a nutmeg later, you have the ball. As soon as you get it, Long goes into the box, and with a flawless shoot, Harry Long scores.

“Time is USA’s enemy right now. They’ve managed to shorten the distance, but the comeback against Brazil is too far away. An equalizer could change the story, not just of this tournament, but the entire World Cup.”

Next time you have the ball, la verde amarela is ready to hold Janice back, but they can’t stop her and Long too.

Harry returns the favor with a delightful assist, and you connect it just right with your forehead. That’s the equalizer, and with fifteen minutes left; it’s a new game.

One point makes you the group leader, but you won’t settle for anything less than the victory.

“What a moment! Y/n Morgan makes honor to the great Alex Morgan with an equalizer. It’s 2-2 at the 75th. It looks like this team doesn’t give up. Whatever the coaches told them at halftime, it did the trick.”

You know what that goal means, for the team and for you personally. Your celebration is quite reserved, but you make sure to point to the sky. That’s enough for you. You’re there with her memory, but thanks to your hard work.

The team relaxes for a hot minute, but like always, they’re focused when the match resumes.

Brazil is tough on the last minutes; unwilling to go down.

The tactics you used against Germany are obsolete against them. WIth only two minutes of added time left on the clock, you don’t think there’s much left to do.

However, your dedication and effort pays off. With only a few seconds left, you earn a corner kick. It’s your last chance, and you’re ready.

A shared look with Long and PRess is more than enough to know the strategy.

Your mission is to make sure the ball makes it through. Your mark is tight, but you’re taller than your defender. A chance is all you need, and Janice grants it to you with her swerve. Long boxes out her mark, and you rise just enough to barely deflect the ball so it can reach Press.

She’s alone behind you, and the Brazilian goalie doesn’t have time to react.

The ball finds nothing but net. The whistle blows, and the match is over.

“I can’t believe it! They pulled off one of the most epic comebacks I’ve ever seen! The USA wins! These girls don’t give up, and today they go back to sleep with an unbelievable result.”

You won. The USA gets three more points and it’s a step closer to the next round. If people believe or not, it’s unimportant. The team showed them courage, pride, passion and determination. Those aren’t flashy words, but a proof of who you are and what you can do.

“Y/n, Y/n!” A reporter calls for your attention. “What do you have to say to the people thinking USA wouldn’t make it past the group stage?”

For a second, you consider how to answer that before opting for a nonchalant shrug.

“Nothing. Everyone that wants to support us is welcome. But the ones that don’t won’t affect us. We came here to play, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

You don’t wait for the next question or remark. It can be perceived as rude or even arrogant, but you want to spend time with those who believe in you rather than those who don’t. And who believes more in what you’re doing than the rest of the team?

There are no right questions about the team’s performance or if you’re following the steps of your mother. They want something juicy that sells well, but you won’t let them question what you’re doing right.

“Harris!” You call up to your captain. “Wait for me!”

“Hurry up, Morgan.”

You’re ready to fly, now the question is:

How high can you go?

#legendary #angst route #next generation #morgan!reader #babymorgan!reader #uswnt imagine

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