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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 month

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The day Princess Anne was almost kidnapped on The Mall — 50 years on

On this day 50 years ago, 23-year-old Princess Anne found herself fighting off a gunman as her bodyguard and driver lay wounded beside her. Emma Loffhagen takes a deep dive into the disturbing day one of the most senior royals was almost kidnapped.

By Emma Loffhagen

20 March 2024

“Your daughter has been kidnapped. The following are conditions to be fulfilled for release.”

In March 1974, Ian Ball used a rented typewriter to haphazardly type a letter intended for the then-head of state, Queen Elizabeth II.

Ball, 26, a funeral home worker, demanded £3 million — to be paid in £5 notes — in exchange for the return of the Queen’s daughter, Princess Anne.

After becoming fixated with the 23-year-old princess, he spent two years hatching an elaborate plan to kidnap her.

Today, March 20, marks the 50th anniversary of Ball’s kidnap attempt — one of the most bizarre and disturbing episodes in British royal history.

A “loner,” Ball had been inspired to hatch his elaborate kidnap plot by the novel Day of the Jackal.

He wanted to follow in the footsteps of the book’s hero, the contracted assassin the Jackal.

“He was a very strange man,” Ball’s neighbour later said. “The only time he ever went out was when he went down to the launderette or went out for some food.”

It was thought that he had developed a “fixation” on the royal, whipped up by the widespread and lavish coverage of her wedding to Captain Mark Phillips the previous year.

As part of his plan, Ball had moved from his run-down flat in Bayswater to a lush rented house in Fleet, Hampshire.

It was only a few miles from Sandhurst, where Anne lived with her then-husband Phillips.

After a quick phone call to the Buckingham Palace press office, Ball knew which engagements and events Anne attended each week.

He rented a car under the alias John Williams, stocking the boot with Valium tranquilisers and two pairs of handcuffs.

On the evening of 20 March 1974, Anne was travelling back to Buckingham Palace in an Austin Princess limousine.

She had attended a screening of Riding Towards Freedom, a documentary by the charity Riding for the Disabled.

Captain Phillips, her bodyguard James Beaton, and her lady-in-waiting Rowena Jane Brassey, were also in the car driven by royal chauffeur Alexander Callender.

At around 8pm, as the group drove up The Mall, a white Ford Escort swerved in front of the limousine, forcing Callender to stop.

Then a 31-year-old inspector, Beaton, who had been Anne’s bodyguard for a year, got out to investigate.

“I thought it was somebody who wanted to be a pain in the neck,” he later said. “There was no hint of what was to happen.”

Suddenly, a bearded man with light red hair jumped out of the vehicle and pulled out two handguns, smashing the passenger window with the butt of one.

Beaton had not even had the chance to pull out his weapon when he was shot in the shoulder.

He then attempted to fire back at Ball — but missed. Upon a second attempt, his gun — a Walther PPK — jammed.

Ball turned to the passenger door behind the driver’s seat and started shaking it. Anne was sat on the other side. “Open, or I’ll shoot!” he shouted.

As the princess and Captain Phillips desperately tried to hold the door closed, Anne’s lady-in-waiting crawled out of the door on the passenger side.

Beaton got back in the car, placing himself between the couple and their assailant.

Ball shot into the car, and Beaton’s hand deflected the bullet.

He shot the bodyguard a third time, hitting Beaton in the abdomen and causing him to fall from the vehicle.

“I felt tired and very drunk, although I hadn’t been drinking,” Beaton later told police. “I just wanted to lie down.”

Callender stepped out to confront the gunman, but Ball shot him in the chest and he fell back into the car.

Pulling the door open, Ball grabbed Anne’s forearm as her husband held on to her waist.

“Please, come out,” Ball reportedly told the princess. “You’ve got to come.”

As the pair struggled over Anne, her dress ripped, splitting down the back, which she later recalled prompted her to “lose her rag.”

But, rather than panic, she had what she described as a “very irritating conversation” with her potential kidnapper.

Unbelievably calm despite the commotion, Anne famously replied: “Not bloody likely!”

In an interview with the late television presenter Michael Parkinson, she recalled:

“He [the gunman] opened the door and we had a discussion about where — or where not — we were going to go.

“I said I didn’t think I wanted to go. I was scrupulously polite because I thought it would be silly to be too rude at that stage.”

A nearby tabloid journalist, Brian McConnell, arrived on the scene.

Recognising the limo’s insignia, he realised the commotion must have involved a royal family member.

“Don’t be silly, old boy,” he told Ball. “Put the gun down.”

Ball responded by shooting him too and McConnell collapsed bleeding onto the road.

A man named Ronnie Russell drove past at this point.

He was on his way home to Strood, Kent, from working as an area manager for a cleaning company in London.

In a stroke of incredible luck, Russell happened to be a former boxer. He had cut his cloth at the Repton Club in east London, an infamous venue sponsored by the notorious Kray twins.

Jumping out of the car, Russell punched Ball twice in the head before leading Anne and her lady-in-waiting away from the attacker.

He later explained that he “did not like bullies,” which prompted his decision to intervene.

Despite being injured, Ball still shot the first police officer to arrive on the scene, Constable Michael Hills, 22, before running off.

Detective Constable Peter Edmonds, who answered Constable Hills’ radio request for backup, chased Ball down The Mall and through St James’s Park before tackling him on the ground.

At Ball’s Old Bailey trial in May 1974, more details came to light about the plot.

Ball kept his head lowered for most of the proceedings, only uttering the word “guilty” to confirm the charges of attempted murder and kidnapping.

In his pocket, detectives had discovered the kidnap note addressed to the Queen, which demanded the £3 million ransom (the equivalent of £26 million today), a free pardon, and a plane to fly him to Switzerland.

He had planned to take the princess to a central London property he had rented under an alias.

In a police interview, Ball also said he believed Anne would be an easy target after ascertaining her whereabouts by phoning the Buckingham Palace press office.

“I had thought about it for years,” he said. “She would have been the easiest. I have seen her riding with her husband.”

Ball also showed no remorse for having shot three men on the night of the attempted kidnap.

“They were getting in my way so I had to shoot them,” he said. “Well, the police, that's their job. They expect to be shot. I took a chance of getting shot so why shouldn't they?”

He added: “I suppose I’ll be locked up for the rest of my life. I am only sorry I frightened Princess Anne. There is one good thing coming out of this: you will have to improve on her protection.”

Ball was diagnosed with schizophrenia following the trial and sentenced to a mental health facility under the Mental Health Act, “without limit or time."

He remains in the Broadmoor Hospital in Berkshire to this day.

The facility has been home to a series of notorious criminals, including serial killer Peter Sutcliffe and London gangster Ronnie Kray.

Immediately after the attack, the royals ceased having only one protection officer.

When Anne visited Beaton in hospital, “she turned up with two policemen,” her bodyguard said. “From then on, that’s what it was.”

“I had nothing…There was no back-up vehicle,” Beaton told The Times separately.

“The training was non-existent; but then again, [we thought] nothing was going to happen. They are highly specialised now, highly trained.”

Beaton continued to work for Anne for another five years — before the Queen employed him.

After Beaton’s weapon jammed, the type of guns used by bodyguards were also changed: “The Walthers were got rid of overnight.”

Beaton was honoured for his bravery, receiving the George Cross — the UK’s highest civilian honour for gallantry.

Russell also received the honour. In a 2006 interview, Russell recalled what Queen Elizabeth said as she presented his George Medal:

“The medal is from the Queen of England, the thank you is from Anne’s mother.”

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tildexart · 11 days

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Hello again! Please elaborate on why you don’t like Bram Stokers Dracula (1992) I love hearing people go off and I think I’ll agree with your conclusion since I don’t like it either haha

HI thanks for sending this as an ask!! Here's a very long, convoluted response. Warning: it is not proofread.

So, the main reason I don't like Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) is because of accuracy. Now, I am completely fine when a book-to-film adaptation isn't a perfect recreation of the book (frankly thats impossible imo) but MAN does this adaptation do the original book injustice. The romance between Dracula and Mina?? The plot line about Dracula's dead wife? Renfield originally working with Harker?? MINA ATTEMPTING TO SEDUCE VAN HELSING???? Really, most of the injustice is done to Mina as a character. Book!Mina is such a strong, well written character. She is integral to the plot and to the book's structure (we would not have had all of the letters, newspaper clippings, and diary entries without her). The book itself states this with how often the Dude Squad (I think I got that title from an Overly Sarcastic Productions video, im going to keep using it) directly tell Mina that they could not have defeated Dracula without her. She is resilient, smart, and stands up for herself. 1992!Mina is not this. James V. Hart, who wrote the screenplay, took everything that made Mina Mina and created a stereotypical damsel character. It's a shame because I strongly believe that Winona Ryder could play a killer, book-accurate Mina Harker.

Speaking of who plays the characters... the cast is really hit or miss for me personally. I do think Winona Ryder and Anthony Hopkins are good picks (especially based off of the book portrayals) and I remember liking Cary Elwes as Arthur Holmwood. Tom Waits as Renfield is a pretty inspired choice ngl.

But. Keanu. Don't get me wrong, I love Keanu Reeves. I think he is great in Bill and Ted's and John Wick. But that's why it confuses me as to why he was cast in this film. He can't do the accent, he shows no emotion, and it sounds like he is remembering his lines as he says them. In fact, my family and I quote his lines in this film as a joke all the time ("Is the castle far?"). None of his former roles at the time implied that he would be a good Jonathan either.

I can't remember much of Gary Oldman's performance, I just know I didn't like it lmao. He made Dracula too suave when he's really just a Creature.

Note: in looking up the cast I was reminded that Richard E. Grant plays Seward and as a fan of Saltburn (2023) that is just. hilarious to me.

I only went into this movie because I was told I would like it because the production design was pretty. Honestly? It's not. The film is poorly lit and the costumes are questionably accurate. The few shots I can remember are for the wrong reasons- such as that One Scene with Lucy in the cemetery. I won't get into it much more, it makes me extremely uncomfortable, but its another instance of Bram Stoker's Dracula taking away everything that made the female characters interesting.

Honestly? The best thing I can say about this movie is that it included Quincey. He's my favorite and he usually doesn't make it to screen adaptations. I'm happy you're here buddy.

I think what infuriates me is the title. Bram Stoker's Dracula implies that this adaptation takes a lot from the book. It's not just Dracula, it's Bram Stoker's Dracula. It's like saying that this adaptation is the most faithful. But... it's not. Bram Stoker's Dracula takes more of it's inspiration from old Universal films and previous Dracula adaptations than it does from the actual book. Thats okay! I'm all for new interpretations of old stories. But if you're a new interpretation that changes half of the characters and plot, don't market said interpretation with the original authors name.

This is not Bram Stoker's Dracula, it's Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula.

Which, even then, this is weak for Coppola. I'm not a huge fan of his work (I've seen The Godfather and Apocalypse Now) but I can understand and appreciate why he is as influential as he is. I think his films are well written and beautifully shot. He has great casts who elevate the writing and make their characters memorable. This film goes against all of that and that bothers me so much. It feels like a cheap imitation of Coppola's work.

Anyway- that sums up my thoughts on Bram Stoker's Dracula. I reallt enjoyed writing this, as someone who wants to be a film historian but doesn't actually get to do film-deep dives this was pretty refreshing haha. Good reminder that this is a film blog, not a podcast one.

Feel free to ask me more about movies, especially if you like Dracula! I am of the opinion that there is no good adaptation of Dracula... but I have ideas on how to fix that so...

#i believe this film is my lowest rated film on letterboxd #tilda rambles #bram stocker's dracula #francis ford coppola #film ramble #dracula

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random-writer-person · 2 months

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I Wanna Be Yours

Remus Lupin x Reader Smut

this was a request from Annabella-darklight on my wattpad

they wanted the same as my last one shot but rough. it's got some changes but essentially the same plot i hope you like it.

word count: 2178

Warnings: Rough smut, penetration, tying fem reader up, oral (fem receiving)

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Recently your band has been increasing in popularity. Now you're not very overwhelmed because you know what to expect.

how you may ask? Well, you are currently dating a member of one of the most popular bands in the world. who? only Remus Lupin of the Marauders. you weren't public because you were more scared than Remus. also, you are very stubborn that the popularity of your band is based on your band's music only.

your band mates Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas have been catching onto your strange behaviour recently and have been asking questions. you wanted to tell them badly but you had an idea.

you showed them your new song and they loved it. you're so glad they loved it. This is the most meaningful song you have ever written in your life. not so much the lyrics or anything but what you're planning to do with the song.

you already cleared things with Remus he was going to be there for the first show of your tour. he had no idea what was coming which was great. so you set your plan in motion. you and your band spent forever practicing making sure everything was perfect.

The night of the show everything was going great. Remus was right in front of the stage people recognizing him immediately and him being polite but blowing them off to watch you. you had your eyes on him pretty much all night and his eyes were on you. your plan would be set into motion for the last song of the night.

"Hey everybody, how are you tonight?" you ask and the whole crowd screams. "Lovely. I hope you guys enjoyed our set this is our last song of the night it's never been heard by anyone but the band so I hope you enjoy it." they scream again. "it's called I wanna be Yours" With that the girls start playing their instruments and you start swaying to the music dancing a little. When you look down you see Remus raise an eyebrow, you smirk and start singing.

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust. wanna be your Ford Cortina I will never rust." you continue staring at him. It was a well-known fact in the fandom that Remus likes older things, one of those things was his car. a Ford Cortina. while you continue singing he knows it was about him and he's smiling hard getting the meanings behind all the words.

when you get to the line "at least as deep as the Pacific Ocean, now I wanna be yours." you drop to your knees and crawl towards Remus continuing to sing. When you sing "Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours" you hold his chin between your fingers and slide your thumb against his lip. he bit his lip and you smile turning around standing up and continuing to sing.

Now your plan was set into motion. you planted the bait you won't see Remus until tomorrow after your publicity interview and you were counting on them asking about what happened.

when you got back to your hotel room everyone was blasting your messages, Remus, Sirius, and James. Sirius and James didn't know but you were friends due to your connection through music. you ignored them all but you couldn't ignore your bandmates who stormed into your room.

"y/n what the hell was that!?" Lily asks throwing herself onto your bed.

"uh..." you were about to answer then Marlene butted in.

"Are you and him like a thing? you know what the interviewer tomorrow is gonna do babes." she was worried but you were counting on them doing that.

"honestly guys it's fine I have it under control can you just wait until tomorrow it will all be cleared up? trust me" You smile at them and they smile back.

"fine but if this fucks with our tour im going to kill you," Dorcas said with a playful glare.

"if anything it'll get us more ticket sales," Marlene smirks heading out of my room with the other two. you roll your eyes and jump into bed going to sleep for the night.

the next morning you work up right on time ready to get pampered for the interview. your publicist came and was lecturing the band on what to say and how to avoid saying things. She turns to you.

"what are we doing about this Remus situation" she smirks a little. Alice was the best. even though she's our publicist she's also our best friend and she has our best interest at heart. you knew she was happy for you.

"I've got it under control don't worry I know what to do." she nods and goes back to the other.

in no time you guys were sitting on the comfortable couches ready to talk to Drew Berrymore.

"so I don't mean to start the interview off with gossip but everyone wants to know. what is going on between you and Remus y/n?" she tilts her head smiling kindly at you. She was your favourite interviewer.

"oh lord" I chuckle nervously hiding my face in my hands. " alright, alright, okay we're dating. we have been for a while almost a year now. That whole show of things was to announce it. though he had no idea." you smile a little mischievously.

"Will he be mad about you announcing it without him knowing?" she looks concerned.

"Remus? no. he couldn't care less if people knew or not. on one hand, he likes to keep things private but on the other, he's also very possessive so he wants everyone to know I'm his. so he kinda put that job on my shoulders. I just wanted to have some fun with it." we all laughed and drew turns to the girls.

"did you girls know about this?" they all shook their heads hard.

"no she was acting a little strange so we were suspicious but we never guessed this. a pleasant surprise." Lily smiles big. she's always loved Remus.

"don't be sad guys no one knew. not even James and Siri. just our families." you pat Marlene who looked in shock on the shoulder.

"you called sirius siri does that mean you all are friends with the marauders?" she asks curiously.

"oh very much yeah we met through our publicist, whose husband is the marauder's publicist, that's how I met Remus. I guess I owe all my thanks to Frank and Alice Longbottom." you smile big at the camera and make a heart with your fingers. Alice behind the camera does the same.

after all of that, the interview went back to your music and ended soon after. when you walk out of the interview you grab your phone and see messages from Remus.

My moony❤️

What was that at the concert?

I mean it was really hot but what?

that was last night when I was ignoring him for the rest of the news to come out.

My moony❤️

Oh god, I love you.

turn around.

I looked at that message in confusion seeing it just came in and turn around. you see Remus standing there with a single daisy and a smile.

"hello love" he picks you up into his arms hugging you and spinning you around.

"Remmy what are you doing here?" you hold his cheeks pecking his lips.

"I wanted to surprise you for a change. I see what your whole plan was now." he chuckles into your neck still hugging you.

"was it a bad plan?" you get nervous you did something he didn't want.

"no love it was amazing." he leaned down to your ear. "I'll be thinking about that concert for many nights to come."

"Oh," I raise my eyebrow in teasing curiosity.

"oh I can't do it anymore come we're going home." he grabbed your wrist and led you to his car. handy dandy old Ford Cortina. he put you in the passenger seat and buckled you in before hopping into his side. he sped out of the parking lot and to his house.

"someone's eager." I tease. he makes a growling sound. When we make it home he quickly gets out and makes it to my side of the car. Once I'm out he picks me up and brings me inside.

he rushes up to his bedroom and throws me on the bed. I gasp a light moan and look up at him. He looks back at me, eyes dark with arousal.

"take your clothes off" he demands in a gravelly voice. immediately I started stripping in front of him. he started palming his pants and tilted his head. "spread your legs" he demanded again. As you slid your legs open he crawled in between your legs. slowly he licks a strip between your folds and you gasp grabbing his hair.

"oh remmy" he puts his arm around your hips to keep you in place then starts to lick faster. your climax approaching quicker and quicker. suddenly he adds two fingers into you curling them inside you. you arch your back and moan. he continues flicking and sucking your clit with his tongue and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. quickly the feeling grew more and more.

"remmy oh oh I'm gonna cum" You pull his hair trying to get his head closer to your heat chasing your release.

"cum for me love" he growls into your heat. you moan loud as your vision cuts out only seeing white as you cum.

he slowly works you through your climax till you've calmed down a bit. he slides up your body till he's face to face with you your bodies pushed together. he slowly tugs on his tie. you think he's about to get undressed but suddenly he grabs your hand and before you can resist you're tied to the headboard. he gets off the bed slowly stripping while you wiggle trying to get friction where you most need it.

"Please Remmy hurry I need you" you moan throwing your head back in frustration.

"Patience my love I'll give you what you need," he said crawling over you again you feel his hard length brush against your heat. you let out a moan and try to grind against it. he moves away. "not so fast" he kisses you deep and passionately. he rubs his hands along your body while you continue to buck up into him. after a while, he slowly strokes his cock before sliding it between your folds. you never get used to how big he is letting out a loud moan.

"ah yes remmy you're so big" You buck your hips trying to get him to move fast but he pushes your hips into the bed before he starts aggressively bucking into you. you're moaning loud and tears start slipping out of your eyes.

"you like that hm? finally shut up once you get what you want?" he teases when you don't answer he quickly unties your hands and flips you over onto all fours. "when I ask you a question you answer" he slaps your ass. you let out a moan and nod.

"yes I love it I love your big dick yes" he sticks it back in happy with your answer and immediately sets a punishing pace. you brace your hand against the headboard trying to prevent your head from smashing into it as Remus leans down your bodies fully connected groaning into your ear.

"I love your warm tight pussy so good for me love." you moan in response he holds you up with his arms as you reach an arm back and play with his hair.

"oh godic I'm so close remmy please." you try to match his thrusts but he holds you too hard.

"wait till I'm ready we'll come together." he starts going harder reaching an arm down you play with your clit bringing you closer. you clench your teeth trying to hold back.

"Remmy I can't I need to cum" You grab his hair harder. Remus groans into your ear.

"Now love cum now" You feel the strings of his cum shooting into you and you let out a loud moan as the earth-shattering orgasm ripped through you. you fall to the bed as Remus slowly works you through your high. slowly Remus plops down next to you looking into your eyes.

"the whole world knows I'm yours now." you smile at him he smiles back and kisses you.

"quiet now or you'll get me worked up all over again." he goes to get up but you grab his hand. "I'll be back love I'm just grabbing a cloth to clean you up." you let go and he goes to the washroom quickly cleaning you up before cuddling with you in bed. it doesn't take you long before you start fading out of consciousness but before you do you hear Remus whisper to you

"I wanna be yours too."

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hope you guys enjoyed

XOXO

Good day night whatever

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episodeoftv · 7 months

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Round 4 of 8

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

Derry Girls: 2.06 The President

As Christmas approaches, excitement in Derry is at fever pitch for President Bill Clinton's visit, while James gets a surprise and Granda Joe embarks on a mysterious plan of his own.

https://derry.fandom.com/wiki/The_President

Gravity Falls: 2.11 Not What He Seems

The twins wonder if they really know Grunkle Stan after he is taken into custody by the government agents.

this episode is everything. The title references one of the first ciphers you could find in the show: STAN IS NOT WHAT HE SEEMS. The end of episode one has Stan being super sketchy. You spend all of season one wondering when he’ll turn evil. And then he doesn’t. You’re pulled along. You learn to love him. And then he’s being MORE suspicious right in front of your face in season 2. NWHS premieres. The kids have to question if they trust Stan. YOU question if you trust Stan. Everything’s happening all at once and then the whole sequence at the end. Oh my god. Heart stopping. Dippers betrayed shouting, Soos’s desperate protection of the kids, Mabel! MABEL! Her trust, her belief, despite EVERHTHING. And then the end. Oh my god the end. The reveal that broke the fandom. Shattered everyone. NWHS is the best piece of TV I’ve ever seen.

the next episode didn't come out for two months and the fandom was frothing at the mouth waiting for it.

The drama. The mystery. We've known forever that Stan was hiding something. We get a payoff to the portal. We find out who The Author Of The Journal is and It's His Fucking Twin. That one scene where gravity turns off and he escapes the cops (feds?). Mabel saying Grunkle Stan, I Trust You. Most iconic and badass episode of the show.

It is just incredible. The biggest reveal of the series happens at the end (this description will contain spoilers but I'm staying vague as possible until the end where it will spoil the reveal to give people time to stop reading this). The amount of suspense and emotional tension that builds and builds over the episode is just incredible. Even after seeing it dozens of times I am on the edge of my seat watching it. The way Dipper and Mabel find out pieces of the puzzle, both things the audience has seen and been speculating on, and new things. The way their first theory about Stan is presented and then show the painting of him smiling CHILLS. And the scene in the basement where Stan finally gets there and he and Dipper have such an emotional fight about all the secrets. And then Mabel caught in the middle and how she is distressed but ultimately trusts Stan. Oh the shot of her letting go is so iconic. And then of course the big author reveal moment is the most amazing thing ever. Ok here is the SPOILER WARNING FOR THE BEST TWIST IN THE SHOW The way Ford's silhouette is seen coming out of the portal then the six fingered hand over the journal and then his face is revealed while Stan says The author of the Journals... my brother. Just top tier scene in every way. I don't think any episode in any other show has ever done to me what this episode does to me.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Not_What_He_Seems

#derry girls #gravity falls #poll #polls #round4

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myhauntedsalem · 25 days

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Jesse James Haunted Farm

It is said that the James farm in Kearney, Missouri where the notorious outlaw Jesse James grew up is haunted. Jesse James’ parents moved from Kentucky to Kearney in 1842.

His father was a Baptist minister who wanted his boys to be well educated. However, in a trip to the California gold fields he died leaving his sons without a father, Jesse was just 3 years old.

His mother, Zerelda lived on this farm for the rest of her life, through three marriages and eight children.

During the Civil War in 1863 the James’ farm was brutally attacked by Union soldiers. Shortly afterward Jesse age 16 and his older brother Frank became Confederate guerilla soldiers, riding with William Quantrill and Bloody Bill Anderson.

Quantrill’s Raiders as they later became known operated out of Missouri. They ambushed Union patrols and supply convoys. They seized the mail and occasionally struck towns on the Kansas-Missouri border. Their main focus though was against the local pro-Union civilians, which they tried to drive out of the territory.

After the Civil War the James brothers, Jesse and Frank now officially outlaws started to attack trains, banks and stagecoaches that were controlled by the Northern side which bought brutal control to the Missouri legislation.

From 1860 to 1882, the James gang was the most feared band of outlaws in America. Responsible for 20 bank and train robberies they murdered countless individuals that stood in their way. They stole an estimated $200,000. Despite their ruthlessness they became folk heroes to some. They literally became legends in their own time.

The local citizens of Kearney kept quiet when they were home on the farm during this period of time. Clay county where the farm is located was in a part of Missouri called Little Dixie, the entire state was 75% southern sympathizers. Both Jesse and Frank were devoted husbands and fathers who spent a lot of time with their families. They were not modern Robin Hoods though, for they kept the money they stole.

In 1869 the gang robbed a bank in Gallatin, Missouri. Jesse shot the banker through the heart feeling he was responsible for the callous murder of Bloody Bill Anderson. The James gang lost some public favor after this. Local newspapers started to call for the capture of this blood thirty gang.

Frustrated at how the locals protected them, Governor Crittenden had the railroad place an enormous price on the James brother’s heads. Pinkerton detectives hired by several bankers raided the James farm in 1875 thinking the older brothers were there. They threw a bomb in the window killing Jesse and Frank’s younger half-brother, Archie as their mother watched. She lost part of her right arm and hand during this struggle.

In one bank robbery several members of the gang were killed. After this the Youngers, a part of their gang were sent to prison for 25 years.

In 1882 the brothers planned one last robbery with Charley and Bob Ford. They did not know these brothers intended to betray them for the large price on their heads.

On the morning they were to commit this robbery Jesse ate breakfast with the Ford’s, placed his gun on one of the farmhouse beds and stopped to straighten a picture that hung on the wall. Bob Ford shot Jesse in the back of the head. He died instantly and was buried in the side yard of the James’ farmhouse. His remains were later moved to the family plot at Mount Olivet Cemetery in Kearney.

The locals did not appreciate what the Ford brothers had done. Bob Ford who was pardoned by Governor Crittenden was driven out of Missouri known as the coward who had shot Jesse. He traveled around in a Wild West show ironically about the James gang. He was shot and killed in Creede, Colorado in 1892. His older brother Charley stayed in Missouri but was shunned. He committed suicide ten years after his brother was murdered.

Frank James gave himself up after Jesse was killed. He was tried several times but there never was enough evidence to convict him. He lived peacefully for the rest of his life at the farm. In later years he charged tourists money to give them a tour of the place.

The James farm and house have been considered haunted for over 100 years. Located off James Road in Kearney, Missouri the farm is a museum today. Employees at this farm still report odd occurrences. After the museum closes for the night many have spotted lights going on and off in the farmhouse. Others report that doors have slammed shut in front of them without cause.

Several witnesses have reported hearing horse hooves stomping outside on foggy nights. When investigated nothing has been found. Others have reported hearing whispered conversations inside the house when no one is there. Some have even heard the bomb going off or cries and gunshots as if a Civil War battle is happening outside. Many staff at the museum today will not go into the house alone. They state that they feel an unnatural intense presence in the home that scares them.

#Jesse James Haunted Farm #jesse james #outlaw #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #paranormal phenomena #supernatural #spirits #ghosts #hauntings #haunted farms

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modishmeliadus · 4 months

Text

Happy New Year!

Here’s my first chapter of my BMFM fic: Bonded.

(I would have updated to ao3 but I need an invite and I'm impatient.)

After her departure from the military Marianna Davidson has returned home to reunite with her younger sister Charley after six years of being separated. But, Chicago is no longer what she remembers, let alone the sister she left behind. Can she make up for their lost time? And can she get used to Charley’s unusual friends and the fear that they strike in her? And when the chips are down will she do what she can to save their lives, or will she let them fall?

Tw: explicit language, cigarette usage, slight panic attacks from original character, slight animal cruelty, and original character briefly thinking violent thoughts.

Will include more in-depth TW and synopsis when updated to ao3. For now, this is what the chapter offers.

Marianna was sitting on the curb outside of Steinhaur’s diner, the only place in Chicago she felt like being at right now when Hall came up walking out from his pickup truck that he parked somewhere behind her. Silently, and infuriatingly watching her as she smoked down her cigarette to the filter. She had just spent thirteen hours with the man in that rusted old Ford and was still unhappy to see him.

It was the coldest day in Autumn for Chicago on record, at least in the last six years that she could recall. She could see the electronic thermometer posted underneath a bank sign which happened to be directly across from the diner, still reading a cool twenty degrees Fahrenheit since the moment she sat down.

God only knew why this hellhole was staying so frozen months before winter.

Marianna worked as an army nurse and had been doing so for the last six years, which meant as of recently, her time was up in the military. She swore on her life, hand on the Bible that she would give her country seventy-two consecutive months of her life. Mainly, to administer penicillin shots and look at deformed genitalia at the base's military hospital.

But, she gave it regardless. Now, her time was up. She could have ripped her military contract up and traveled home in that instance. Giving the military the huge middle finger on the way out for all the grief she faced for the last seventy-two months. But, she lingered, for whatever ungodly reason she didn’t know.

Maybe it was the way the higher-ups or even the way Hall had coaxed her to think differently. To stay in the military, join the reserves, finish her education, and ‘come back better than ever!’. It wasn’t what most did. It wasn’t even brought up as an option to most people. People who were not interested in the fight for their country and leaning more on the healing side were just not as valued. At least, not in her experience.

“You never know,” Hall had told her with a knowing smile, “You could get a promotion one day!”

But, she already moved up in the ranks before. Straight from second lieutenant to first after she graduated nursing school, then remaining stagnant for the rest of those six years. She didn’t think she could move any further. Perhaps, that’s why she agreed. Wanting to achieve that little twenty-one-year-old’s dream of reaching Captain, or maybe even Major. That was the odd thing about moving up in the ranks, you didn’t get much from it. Perhaps a raise in pay, and a little respect. But, you still wanted it all the same. Mari had wanted that at one point, too.

But, unlike Lieutenant Colonel James Hall. Who was one of her base’s licensed nurses, her nursing professor, and above all, her superior. Whether or not Marianna wanted what he had was still up in the air. Marianna very much identified herself as a drifter and enjoyed being moved from place to place depending on her deployment. Climbing up the ranks meant stability, and having to stay and chip away at the mountains of red tape that a higher rank demanded didn’t seem like her speed. Now, Mari had already decided that Hall could keep all that responsibility to himself. Marianna, on the other hand, enjoyed going back to her bed at a cool seven AM after a full shift wherever she was sent. And not having to stay in one place for more than a year or two.

But, she still agreed to join the reserves despite it all.

She realized, somewhere at least, that she should be happy that she could avoid deployment for the first time in six years. That she could get off of active duty. That she served her respective time. She should have been thrilled. She could stay home, sleep in her bed, wash up in her shower.

Be with her family.

Marianna cringed back into her neck at the thought, taking one of the five empty cans of soda she was collecting as ammo and hurled it at the fat, plump-bellied vermin as it tried to cross over her feet again. She had been hurling cans at the little creatures for the past fifteen minutes as they ran back and forth on the empty street, occasionally running over her boots and bringing out an uncharacteristic amount of fear in Marianna. She watched as the little rat gave a pathetic squeak as the can banked off its chunky body and ricocheted away to be carried off by the harsh autumn wind. It looked back at her with offending, rabid eyes before it scurried away.

That was the one part of Chicago she hated. Or any big city for that matter. The rats. Rodents, specifically, were one of those creatures that Marianna had no trouble hating with their small, unblinking eyes and round bodies jumping with lice and all assortments of diseases. Normally, she wouldn’t show her cruelty for another life so willingly in front of another person. But, this time Hall had caught her like the sneaky sonuvabitch he was.

“What are you doing, Mari?”

“The rats,” She answered, realizing how lame she must have sounded when all the rats now had scurried away from her warpath moments ago, all beyond the last brave one she chucked at. “They kept touching my feet.”

Hall nodded once, briefly. He was a behemoth of a man, large and beefy with a blond buzz cut right down to the scalp. His eyes were a tired, graying blue, speckled with age and deep fine lines from his many decades in the service. He was out of his fatigues now, she noticed and wore a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, which contradicted with his rough and torn denim jeans. He looked at her closely, “You shouldn’t be doing that, you know. Those things bite.”

“I was throwing shit at them so that they wouldn’t bite me.” She answered, blandly.

Hall nodded as if the topic no longer interested him.

“I can tell you’re avoiding going in.” He said, tilting his head at the entrance of the diner before returning his gaze to her.

She didn’t answer him, just mindlessly twirled an empty can of soda in her hands as she waited for more rats to appear. Until she felt a sudden sharp poke on her left shoulder, forcing her to look back at him. Hall was pushing a small box of menthols into her shoulder with an easy smile. “You can’t avoid her forever.”

“She’s not even in there.” She said, waving a hand in the direction of the near-empty parking lot. Showcasing only three motorcycles and his pickup truck in the minimal spaces. Like this would have been enough to prove her point.

“But she’s going to be. You said so yourself, best to get the drop on her in a public space than just showing up at her home.”

Marianna grunted. Understanding that she did indeed say that and still believed it was a better idea than barging in her sister’s home, metaphorical hat in hand, and on her knees in forgiveness. She knew people had to do embarrassing, and sometimes rude things to be forgiven. But, a line had to be drawn somewhere.

Coldly, she gently took the menthols from his hand and began unwrapping the protective plastic. Reaching for her lighter in her jacket pocket with a fresh cigarette fitting neatly between her lips. Marianna had already changed out of her uniform fourteen hours ago. Opting to wear her faded tight blue jeans, under an army green tee-shirt that read “Army Nurse.” Her father’s worn leather jacket wrapped snugly around her form. Letting her red hair drape down her back to produce some well-needed heat to her neck.

She wanted to look like herself for her sister. Instead of the soon-to-be-nurse dreaming of saving all the heroes six years ago. That person didn’t even exist to Mari anymore.

Initially, she had been planning to take a bus or a plane from New York to Chicago. Hall, stopping her before she could even consider buying a bus ticket, already planned on going to Chicago for his annual trip to see his son. But, she knew his real reason for insisting he take her. He knew her history, knew she would take any reason to chicken out about going home.

“Your contract is up,” He had said to her, holding her luggage in one hand before tossing it into the back of his truck. “And your new one for the reserves doesn’t start for another two months. I’ll take you. It’s on the way. It’s cheaper.”

She still had no idea why she agreed. Only choosing to do everything on a whim before she changed her mind. The need to see her sister, her family, was so immense that she didn’t even bother to let the fact that she wouldn’t want to see Mari begin to cloud her judgment.

Now, she didn’t want to move, regret gluing her boots firmly to the payment. And instead of looking back at Hall, she looked over at Steinhaur’s parking lot again. Fixing on the same spot as she had been the whole time she was here.

Only six places were put side by side at the curb of the diner, and on any given day only three of four were used when she lived here. Even in the farthest recesses of her childhood, this place was never busy. Still wasn’t even now. Today, only three places were used with three motorcycles in the limited space beyond Hall’s truck. Marianna had been watching the bikes, waiting for the owners of the bikes to come out for a long while. Mainly, to ask them questions on their models and makes. But, when they never came out she just opted for just staring at them.

Two out of the three were packed into one space together. Modern and sleek in design. One was cherry red, perhaps a Suzuki series, she surmised. Made to be a sports vehicle to be admired and looked upon. The other was a dark blue motorcycle of what she believed to be a Honda Valkyrie. A true beast of a motorcycle with a monstrous amount of horsepower and purr in its engine.

The last bike, sitting alone in a single space beside its beautiful brothers, had Marianna salivating with envy. A brand new Daytona Harley-Davidson. Black, sleek, slim, and with bright shades of silver in its chrome trim.

If she remembered correctly, only 1,700 of those babies were produced. What she wouldn’t give to jump into its seat and take it for a spin.

Marianna used to work on bikes, cars, and vehicles of all sorts. Motorbikes are one of her favorites. She tinkered with them, played with them, and even blew one up in her father’s garage once when she was a teenager. She was never as proficient as her sister probably is now as an auto body mechanic, but she knew how to work a motorbike and how to make it work for her. It was the one thing she had pride in.

But, she noticed, the bikes had no logos, no insignia, no brand markings of any kind. Just smooth paint where the mark should be. And while she remarked that this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Even some of her old clients made specific remarks that they wanted old brand markings rubbed out, pulled off, and recovered with a new coat of paint. But, most wanted that status symbol. For people to see their brand new Honda or Harley-Davidson. It was an ego thing if nothing else.

Additionally, the designs were off in the small details of the bikes. As if the bikes were built lovingly by skilled hands from the ground up. Pieces were mix-matched, bending in weird shapes she didn’t recognize for particular bike parts, and above all, an odd shape was given to each of the bike's headlights.

They were shaped exactly like a mouse head. Round faces with rounded ears on each side. Or, at least as round as forging metal could provide. Which ended up giving the mouse heads a bit more of an angular shape.

A gang symbol, perhaps? She wasn’t sure, it had been so long since she had been involved with Chicago’s darker underbelly.

Marianna took a deep, final drag of her cigarette, mashed it out on the curb, and turned to look at Hall. He was leaning against the wall of the diner now, directly beside the entrance. His arms crossed, with that ensuring and relaxed look in his gaze. Waiting for her.

Grimacing, she got up, freezing, and strode over to him. Called him an asshole one more time, and opened the front door.

The first thing she noticed when she opened the door, is that she was right. Her sister was indeed not there, or at least, not yet. But, she knew the room; had known it all her life. It was rectangular, the walls a creamy white, and decorated with small black and white photographs. A counter ran the length of over half of the entire room near its center and was decorated with old-fashioned cushioned stools. On each side of the room was a table with decorated red and blue cushioning. Above her blue fluorescent lights flickered, carrying the dead and long-gone corpses of flies in their casings.

Not a single thing about this place had changed since the 50s, and that brought on a sense of comfort for Marianna.

In the back, through the kitchen window, she could see the head of Mr. Steinhaur. Still as tall and as lanky as she remembered, he lowered his head at whatever task he had at hand. She couldn’t see him, not fully from her angle, but could still see the wisps of white hair peaking out from his soda jerk hat, and that tanned patch of skin on his forehead; but she still smiled at him, at that small mental image she was exposed to. She knew he would still look like that old, jolly man that she remembered from her childhood and it had effectively cooled at what anxiety she felt.

Then she looked over at the three figures at the end of the counter closest to the kitchen window.

Good God, that is a lot of hair.

It was three men, or what she supposed were men. Each sits side by side at the far left side of the bar. They were young, maybe even Marianna’s age, but it was impossible to tell with all that hair in the way.

Two out of the three of them were ideally chatting to one another with loud and booming voices. One sitting calmly with his hand wrapped around a beer stein, the foam of it dripping off the sides and lazily onto his hand. Which was also covered in an unrealistic amount of fur.

The younger one, which Marianna decided solely based on his young, almost chubby face beneath the mounds of stark white fur. On his right side he appeared to have a metallic, chrome mask covering the entirety of his right eye and cheek. He was shirtless, beyond a pair of green bandoleers crossing over his broad chest. He was the instigator of his friend’s conversation. Waving his hands in an exaggerated motion, constantly moving, and speaking.

His companion, the Goliath of a man, had been listening quietly to his buddy’s rantings. A quiet and blissful smile on his gentle, gray features. His face was harder than the smaller ones. Filled with jagged and angular lines underneath the fat of his mousy cheeks. His face was partially taken out of view by a black eyepatch on his left eye. He was shirtless as well, beyond hard armor plates across his chest and strong shoulders.

As he listened to the younger one chat away he pawed at his right arm mindlessly with his other hand. It was bulky, sleek, robotic even. A prose hic that moved freely with unconscious movements as if it were his good arm.

Her gaze fell on the last of the trio. At the very end of the table sat the last man, sipping mindlessly at his overfilled glass and staring out into the diner. Regardless of the diner being empty beyond the five of them. His features were softer than the rest of his group, thoughtful, and pensive. His face looked soft, cushioned with shaggy, sand-colored fur that fell over his obscured eyes. Like the others, his face was shrouded in one way or the other. But both his eyes were covered by green-tinted shades that hid any color or movement he could give off. Again, he was shirtless, but he seemed to be the most covered of his comrades. Having a black vest covered over almost the entirety of his midsection and a cherry-red bandanna wrapped around his thick neck. A furry, rounded ear had perked up every once in a while when the conversation of his friends had hit a crescendo. Beyond this, he didn’t move, only looked out like he was observing the world through the eyes of Earth’s only outsider.

She eyed them, vastly aware of how her jaw hung open as if the hinges of an old door were loosened. Unable to close fully even if she tried. And how a cool sweat was starting to form across her forehead and the middle of her back.

Muscular, tall, covered head to toe in fur, round ears pierced by studs, protruding snouts, small black noses, large buck teeth, and swinging large, slender tails from behind their chairs. And shirtless. Why in the world were they shirtless?

They looked like mice. Gigantic, overgrown, rats.

She noticed then, that the blond one turned his head slightly to her. Her stomach lurched and she wondered if he was looking at Hall or her until he reached a hand up and pulled his green shades down to the bridge of his nose.

He was eying her with a curious, interested gaze. But, somehow, with eyes that she knew he wasn’t seeing her with. And she was too focused on how his eyes were a dark, ruby red. He winked and her body decided to make her hair simultaneously stand on end as well as pushing blood to her frost-bitten cheeks in a furious blush.

Then as soon as he pulled his shades down, they were back up on the bridge of his nose and hiding his eyes. Like nothing had just transpired between them.

Hall’s booming chuckle pulled her out of her stupor, along with a sharp elbow to her side. He was standing behind her, she realized, smiling with mirth at the three furred men at the bar.

“Ha! Hey look, Davidson! Halloween came early this year!” He chuckled, rounding her frozen form to walk to the bar and sit right beside the three men. “Come on, Mari. I’m starving.”

She looked at him with as much equal horror as she did with three mice just a second ago, and then felt that horror mix in with an unbridled amount of fury when she saw him walk up to the blond mouse, sit two seats away from him, and give him a generous wave.

“Howdy! You fellas sure do love the Halloween season. Love that for you! Mind if I sit? I always tell myself that sitting at the bar was meant for strangers looking for friends. I’m James, you can call me Jim.”

Mari watched Hall go on. Watched the three men smile politely at him, and chat with him idly. She watched him, feeling hot betrayal at his inability to read a room, to read her, and his insistent need to make friends with everyone he meets; then thinking one single thought over and over in her mind like a broken record.

I’m going to kill him. I’m gonna paint the ceiling with his gray matter, then do the same to myself. What the absolute fuck?!

Then another thought came rolling in as if to save her from her upcoming murder charge.

Halloween. Yes, that’s right. It’s the middle of October. She thought, letting the smallest amount of relief wash over her. That would explain the weapons, the biker boots, the armor, and even the lack of proper autumn clothes. These gentlemen must have been heading to an early Halloween party. Even the red antennae, that Marianna had just noticed was protruding out from the tops of their fluffy heads, was all a part of some elaborate alien costume.

Or, something for a Star Trek convention in town.

She mashed down what was left of her horror and made her way to him, wordlessly moving her legs to make contact with the seat to his left; a good and healthy barrier between her and the personifications of her murophobia. She relaxed, until she suddenly felt Hall’s strong hand on her arm, giving an exaggerated pull and then throwing towards his opposite side before she could sit down. She felt herself tumble and fall gracelessly into a seat. Unaware of where she had landed because her vision was currently lighting up with the short burst of pain in her chest. She had fallen ribs first into the surface of the bar.

She groaned. Blinking the pain away and simultaneously straightening herself in her seat to sit more comfortably. When her vision steadied, she was already looking up at him. His face softened to an apologetic smirk, but still one filled with jovial good humor.

“Sorry Davidson, didn’t meet to chorale you into the table like that.” He said, then turning his apologetic grin to the person behind her. “She’s so bad at talking to people. You’d think she wouldn’t be, being a nurse and all—that’s what we are, by the way. But, she’s terrible at talking to anyone that she doesn’t have an IV in!”

He was still babbling when she turned around to look at who he was talking to. Knowing she didn’t have to look. She knew who he chose to sit close to.

All three of them were staring fixedly at her when she turned. Sometimes switching their gazes to look up at Hall as he spoke to them and gave polite nods of understanding. Specifically, more from the gray and blond ones; but more often than not, choosing to look back at her with their feral red eyes. Their rounded ears twitched, and large slender tails moved around their backs as freely as wild snakes. Looking at her as if she was the strange one.

Could I blame them? Hall did toss me into this seat like a professional wrestler.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hall shouted suddenly, placing a gentle hand on Mari’s shoulder and fanatically waving his hand in her direction, almost as if he was presenting a new car on the lot to welcome buyers. “This is Marianna Davidson, First Lieutenant of the United States Military. My subordinate.”

Mari scowled, shrugging off his touch. The last thing she needed was to be formally introduced to the objects of her irrational fear. Let alone be introduced as someone’s subordinate.

As far back as Mari could remember, she was afraid of rats, mice, and all rodents of any kind. There was something about their twitching pink noses, black marble eyes, and the way they would scurry across her feet in her bedroom at night.

She particularly hated the way they would squeal. Their tiny little bodies getting trapped in the nooks and crannies of piling garbage or too-narrow walls, and squealing their little lungs out with every death-fearing twitch they had in them.

She would keep her fear relatively bottled up. Usually, preferring to throw things at them from a distance, or keeping out glue traps and rat poison until the problem sorted itself out. It was easy to deal with, and easy to ignore. How often did a person who constantly had to travel and had a compulsion to keep everything neat have to deal with rodents?

Very slim to fuckin’ none, until I came here.

More and more she was realizing that coming back to Chicago was a mistake. First, she was dealing with her childhood phobia in the form of muscular nerds dressed as—

—Biker—alien—mice?

She breathed trying to cool the anxiety that was seeming to rise and fall in weird intervals in her. Knowing that her mind and her body were in a weird fight between logic and illogical fear. Creating a swirl of punching, fighting, clawing chaos that begged and screamed for her to run. But, also, kept her firmly seated on her cushioned chair. Her pride wouldn’t let her run from perfectly nice strangers. Even if their costumes were a little too realistic.

“Say hi, Mari.” Hall had said behind her.

Mari blinked, realizing that she was still looking up at the furred-nerd-mice-men. She hadn’t moved, perhaps hadn’t even had the opportunity to blink. She was simply looking up at their gigantic forms without even a sound leaving her mouth.

Then realizing she had spent a lot longer than a normal amount of time to summon the courage to speak, she choked out a shallow: “Hi. I’m Mari, like he said. Nice to—meet you.”

She paused, then looked over her shoulder to meet Hall’s gaze again for his assistance. “Misters?” She drawled out.

The white one chuckled first, his voice sounding light, and playful, “Misters? We’re the baddest mamajamas on this side of the universe, sweetheart.”

Oh, this is a bit. This is definitely a bit. “And that means—what?”

The gray one rolled his singular red eye and looked down at his smaller friend, exasperated. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to tease a lady?” Before that eye fell on her, and he smiled with the full of his crooked teeth.

“I’m Modo,” he said pointing a thumb at himself, then at his friend. “That’s Vinnie, don’t mind him Mari-ma’am.”

He said that last part soothingly. Stringing the words of her name and ‘ma’am’ like the words belonged together. If his face and blood-red eye weren’t so jarring, she would have found his low voice, and sweet tone endearing.

Then Modo waved a hand in the direction of the silent blond mouse, who was still looking at her. His face was stoic and still as stone, but holding a smile that was gentle and polite. “This is Throttle.”

Throttle nodded slightly in acknowledgment. The free hand not holding his half-drank stein was out in front of her. Furry fingers straight, palm open, waiting.

Mari swallowed thickly, mashing down her nerves and forcing a slight smile to pull at the corners of her mouth. It’s just a costume. It’s just a guy in a costume. A nice, weird, guy in a muscle man costume.

She reached out, and grabbed his hand, giving a firm but polite shake. Just like the military had taught her. Ignoring the way her skin immediately tingled from the contact, and how the contrast of his soft hair and the leather of his fingerless gloves made chills shoot down her spine in a rush of electricity.

“Nice to meet you, too.” He said. His voice carrying a calming, deep lithe to it.

Her stomach lurched, and she was almost ninety percent certain it was still a mixture of disgust and fear still holding a choke-hold on her body. But the other ten percent wasn’t sure, because a smile still pulled at her cheeks without her forcing it to stay.

They stayed like that for a long singular beat of a moment. Before he released his hand from hers and retrieved it to lay limply at his thigh. She only had a second to realize the contact was gone before she looked up and realized that his red antenna bounced slightly without the help or movement of his head.

Without helping it, she raised herself to sit taller and peak at the moving, bobbing protrusions.

I might as well ask them about the process of—whatever this is.

“How are you doing that?”

“Huh?”

“That thing you're doing with those antennae on your head.”

Through his specs, just barely, she saw his eyes dart from her to his friends. Who had now fully stopped their conversation to meet his gaze.

“I move it.” He said, chucking, and giving a slight wiggle to each protruding red thing.

“Well, no, I can see that. I mean, how are you making it move? Is it robotics? Are ya just bobbing your head?” She went on, leaning her elbow against the table to give a curious eye to the odd projections of his mascot head. When he made no motion to move away, but instead leaning in for her, she decided to give an experimental poke to one.

She realized then that it didn’t look as flimsy as she initially thought it did. Specifically when the little thing didn’t move or simply fell off his head from the slight weight of her finger.

Alarmed, but satisfied, she pulled her hand back, trying to graze over the fact that she touched that thing on him.

“I mean, I appreciate you committing to whatever it is you’re doing. It’s a very intricate bit to your costume.”

“Costume?” She heard them echo in mumbling tones. Even catching the attention of Hall as he also leaned forward to look at them past Mari’s shoulder.

“What are you dressed as, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking. It’s been a long time since I was involved in the sci-fi nerd scene. Haven’t done that since the 80’s. I get the mice part, I can see that, but the biker part is losing me. Are you biker—aliens, maybe?”

“Hey!” Vinnie suddenly gasped, pushing up from his seat to reveal that he had a good few inches on her. She pushed back the urge to fearfully jump, and waited, “I don’t know if you heard me the first time, or who you think we are, but nerds are far from it. We are, again, the baddest mamajamas on this side of the galaxy, sweetheart!”

She studied him at that moment, letting him glower at her playfully with those feral little red eyes. Then choosing to turn her smile up at him, trying to come across as cool and straight as Hall had been ever since he sat down. She fluttered her eyes and cooed up at him in mock appreciation, “Okay, I can play for you. I’m sure you are the most skilled and bodacious biker this side of the Milky Way.”

The young mouse-men’s eyes changed then. Carrying an air of teasing confidence, then swiftly transitioning to a surprised bashfulness.

She wondered briefly if his overconfident facade was his normal behavior. And if anyone ever agreed with his outrageous claims of grandeur.

She decided to push just a little further. Just to play. Just to tease. Just to make this whole situation less weird. “Did I mention smarts, too? I saw those bikes out there. I assume at least one of those is your handiwork.”

“Yeah, well, I—”

“Not to mention charm.”

“Ah, you—”

“And your sheer attractiveness. Has anyone ever told you how dreamy you are?”

“Sweet—”

“And that voice! Ugh, I’d pay you to read the phone book to me.”

His face was red then, painting the stark white fur of his mascot mask in a brilliant crimson. What a neat trick. She thought.

She noticed he was trying to stutter out. Perhaps a shy request for her to stop or maybe another snappy comeback for her sudden onslaught of casual flirting. She looked back at his friends. Cheeky grins took over their faces over the whole embarrassing display

“So, what are you, again?”

Her mind, admittedly, ran through the possibilities. Mostly sci-if dorks committing their entire being to small-time characters in some show that couldn’t even begin to understand.

What else could it be?

Throttle just shrugged his shoulders. “We’re mice, ma’am. Mice.” He annunciated the last word like this claim had made all the sense in the world, and explaining any further would have been a waste of his time.

“You were expecting turtles, maybe?” Modo added, chucking.

“Okay—” Mari paused, narrowing her eyes at them. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“This part is always so hard to get through to people. I swear.” Vinnie said, evidently recovered from Mari’s display of affection.

Mari looked back at Hall, an expression of ‘what joke am I not getting here?’ falling on her face. Instead of an explanation, he patted Mari’s shoulder and shrugged good-heartedly at them. “Alright, keep your secrets.”

“Anyway, Mari,” Hall said, pulling her attention back to him. “I was about to ask our new friends here if they saw your sister in today. They’re regulars.”

“Oh.” She said, simply. Then looking back at them to eye them carefully. “Are you from here? Where did you go to school?”

Their faces suddenly fell one by one, making, something akin to a deep sadness shadowing their chubby faces.

“I—” She began, her skin prickling with that same anxiety that had gripped her when she first walked in and saw them. Immediately she had said the wrong thing. Even without knowing fully what she said to upset them.

I just asked them where they went to school.

“We’re—not from here.” Throttle said, “Chi-town is more of our home away from home.”

“Oh. I see.” She said, then added as if it was to recover from whatever rudeness she had forced to change the air between them. “So, my sister?”

“What’s your sister look like?”

She paused, thinking, then made a vague gesture with her hand as she imagined her sister as close as she could get. “Looks a little like me. But, her eyes are green, and her hair is more brunette-red. Tall, slim, takes no shit. She’s a mechanic here in town, she must have worked on your bikes at least once. You would know if you met her.”

Vinnie blinked, then looked over at his friends before he chose to look back at her. a look of deep concentration crossing over his face. “What did you say your last name was?”

“Davidson. Why? You think you know her?”

Vinnie and Modo didn’t move, not looking at her. But she saw Throttle give the briefest of nods. “Would her name be—?”

“Charley!” Marianna heard a voice say from the kitchen. She turned. Seeing Mr. Steinhaur’s top half of his body peek out from the kitchen window. Perhaps, leaning on his toes to fully get his head out. “I thought that was you I heard. I’m almost done with the boys—”

He stopped, his eyes finally focusing on her. She heard him swallow from here, “Marianna?”

She smiled, giving a small shy wave from across the bar. “Hi. Mr. Steinerhaur.”

“I—hold on a minute. Stay right there!” He shouted, his head dipping back out of the window.

Suddenly, she could hear the rattle of plates and silverware as they knocked together. The next thing she heard was the kick of a rubber shoe hitting against the kitchen door, Sending it flapping open wildly, and Mr. Steinhaur to come running out of it. Two trays of food were in his hands.

She barely noticed that he had placed the plates of chili hotdogs, and fries in front of her new, alien-looking friends before he was leaning against the bar and yanking her shoulders into a tight hug. She yelped, feeling the sharpness of his chin, and his top ribs, digging into her painfully.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said, loosening his grip. But, not letting go. “I just got so excited! You haven’t been to Chicago in six years!”

“Yeah.” She said, apologetically. Then giving him a gentle pat on his back before peeling herself away only slightly to look at him, and to breathe air fully back into her lungs. “Deployment will do that.”

She saw him give a glance to the three mice beside her, then back to Hall on her left. He nodded, pulling out a small notebook from his back pocket, and then producing a small pen. Still smiling, he clicked the pen several times.

“I see you’ve already met my best customers. I hope you’re getting acquainted well. Besides Charley, these three keep me in business. What can I get for you and your friend? I assume you wanted to eat before Charley got here?”

Hall nodded for her, briefly. Giving a polite smile while taking a small glance at the menu, just below the kitchen window.

While he ordered, she took a curious glance over to her new animorphic nerd friends. But they weren’t looking at her, or at the food that was placed in front of their waiting hands. Instead, they stared, they’re faced serious and hard. Not as saddened as they were when she asked them if they were from here. But in deep thought.

She lifted an eyebrow, “Are you guys okay?”

They looked up at her, surprised, but still didn’t answer.

Suddenly, she heard Mr. Steinhaur give a surprised joyful laugh. “Well, isn’t this just perfect? Speak of the devil, here she comes now. ”

The front door opened, and the front doorbell chimed loudly in the dead silent room. Marianna turned. Tears already pricking her eyes before she could fully set her eyes on her, but as soon as she did, a singular tear fell and dribbled down her cheek.

Charley stood there. Her hand on the bar of the door, holding it open and letting the cool autumn air rush in. Long hair flowing down her shoulders of her blue button-up. She was still wearing their father’s utility belt wrapped around her tight-fitting black jeans. She had looked the same as the day she had left.

And, to Marianna’s surprise, Charley’s green eyes also filled with tears, threatening to burst.

“Mari?” Charley uttered, her voice soft and breaking.

A million things went through her mind. Mostly every apology she wanted to give her for the past six years. The other things were the memories that she had. Raising Charley in that tiny garage beside her father; being there for her when their father died; leaving her behind for the military; and the fight that ensued afterwards. All the mean words she said to her, and the ones she said right back to Mari.

It was all right in front of her. Ready for her to grab and say to her. But all she could choke out was a small, weak:

“Hi, Charley.”

#writing #writblr #biker mice from mars #oc x canon #fanfic #6000k #tw cigarettes #tw language #tw panic attack #my first fanfic in like ten years #throttle #modo #vinnie #bmfm #no beta we die like men #be gentle #its a little wordy

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deadpresidents · 8 months

Note

Is Trump the first person to run for president three different times?

No, there have been numerous people through the history of the United States who have run for President three or more times, but most of them didn't get their party's nomination.

Interestingly, a lot of people forget that the 2024 election is actually Joe Biden's fourth, full-fledged, formal Presidential campaign, in addition to Trump's third campaign. Biden unsuccessfully sought the Democratic nomination in 1988 and 2008 before finally winning the nomination and general election in 2020. Ronald Reagan first ran for President in 1968 when he jumped into the race for the Republican nomination as an alternative to Richard Nixon, but it was kind of a half-hearted, late bid and Reagan later admitted that he wasn't quite ready to run for President at that point, which was only about a year into his tenure as Governor of California. Reagan challenged incumbent President Ford for the Republican nomination in 1976 and very nearly pulled off a rare intraparty defeat of a sitting President from his own party. And of course, Reagan ran and won in 1980 and 1984.

It's not just a relatively recent phenomenon, either; candidates have been running for President three or more times for as long as the Presidency has existed. Thomas Jefferson sought the Presidency in 1796 , 1800, and 1804, and there are many more examples, including Ulysses S. Grant, who was the first former President to make a serious attempt at breaking George Washington's tradition of serving two terms and then retiring. Grant won Presidential elections in 1868 and 1872, and allowed his supporters to actively work for his nomination at the 1880 Republican National Convention after President Hayes retired without seeking a second term. Grant was the frontrunner for the nomination, but once the balloting for the nominee started, the convention became deadlocked between Grant and James G. Blaine -- another person who ran for President multiple times: 1876, 1880, and 1884 (when he was nominated, but lost the general election). On the thirty-sixth ballot, the Republicans finally nominated James Garfield, who had emerged as a compromise candidate.

It is less common for someone to be a major party nominee for President on three or more occasions, which Trump has a shot of being in 2024 if he's not in prison. However, it is still not unprecedented. Obviously, Franklin D. Roosevelt won four Presidential elections (1932, 1936, 1940, and 1944), which had never happened before and will never happen again unless the Constitution is amended. William Jennings Bryan was the Democratic nominee in 1896, 1900, and 1908, and lost all three times. Grover Cleveland won the Democratic nomination in three straight elections: 1884 (which he won), 1888 (which he lost), and 1892 (which he won). Trump is hoping to join Cleveland as the only Presidents to serve two non-consecutive terms. Henry Clay was his party's nominee on three different occasions, and lost all three times. In an odd quirk of the times, because the major political parties were still in the process of forming in the first half of the 19th Century, Clay was technically the Presidential nominee for three different political parties: Democratic-Republican in 1824, National Republican in 1832, and Whig in 1844. Martin Van Buren was elected President as the Democratic nominee in 1836 and renominated in 1840, but lost the general election, After breaking with his party over the spread of slavery to new American territories, former President Van Buren ran as the Free Soil nominee in 1848, but came in third in the general election behind Zachary Taylor and Lewis Cass. And, one more recent example would be Richard Nixon, who was the 1960 Republican Presidential nominee and narrowly lost the general election in John F. Kennedy. Despite the belief that his political career was finished -- particularly after a humiliating loss in the 1962 campaign for Governor of California -- Nixon won the Republican nomination again in 1968 and 1972 and went on to win the general election both times (as well as winning 49 out of 50 states in 1972).

(I'm sorry...I understand that was a long-winded, overly-detailed way of answering your question when I also could have just said, "No.")

#Presidents #Presidential Elections #Presidential Politics #Presidential Nominees #Presidential Campaigns #History #Politics #Political History #Presidential History #Campaigns #Elections

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gnar-slabdash · 1 year

Text

Leverage Mark Showdown Masterpost

RESULTS ARE IN! JACK HURLEY IS THE #1 FAVORITE MARK!

2nd Place: Damien Moreau

3rd Place: Victor Dubenich

4th Place: Meredith

What we’re looking for:

The “favorite” Mark out of the original five seasons. “Favorite” here means the mark you ENJOY the most. That could mean you love them, love to hate them, like their style, like the actor, or even sympathize with them.

So it’s pretty personal and pretty open. But what we’re NOT looking for is like, the biggest baddest mark: the one with the objectively best plan, or the one who does the most harm, or anything like that. It’s not “who could beat up whom.” We’re also not looking for the best episode or con. We’re just looking at the characters themselves.

Other Helpful Posts:

First Heat Contestant Info

Second Heat Contestant Info

If you would like to be added to the tag list to be notified when the polls go up, go to this post and like or comment on it.

If you would like to NOT see stuff about these polls, blacklist “favorite mark poll”

FIRST HEAT CONTESTS (COMPLETED)

***MARK DOYLE (The Bottle Job) ***v. David Lampard (The French Connection Job)

Mayor Brad Culpepper III (The 3 Strikes Job) v. ***IAN BLACKPOOLE (The 1st & 2nd David Jobs)***

Mark Vector (The Morning After Job) v. ***GREG "THE MAKO" SHERMAN (The Boiler Room Job)***

***VICTOR DUBENICH (The Nigerian Job, The Last Dam Job)*** v. Judge Roy (The Bank Shot Job)

Gabe Erickson (The Real Fake Car Job) v. ***MARCUS STARKE, CHAOS, MIKEL DAYAN, and APOLLO (The Two Live Crew Job)***

Scott Roemer (The Very Big Bird Job) v. ***JACK HURLEY (The 12-Step Job)***

***MONICA HUNTER (The 3 Days of the Hunter Job)*** v. William Quinn and Tobey Earnshaw (The Juror #6 Job)

***EDDIE MARANJIAN (The Order 23 Job) ***v. Caroline Cowan (The Low Low Price Job)

SECOND HEAT CONTESTS (COMPLETED)

Jack Lattimer (The Last Dam Job) v. ***JIMMY FORD (The 3 Card Monte Job)***

**DR. ANNE HANNITY (The Inside Job)*** v. Dalton Rand (The Future Job)

***NICKY AND HEATHER MOSCONE (The Wedding Job)*** v. Alan Foss (The 2 Horse Job)

***DAMIEN MOREAU (The Big Bang Job, The San Lorenzo Job) ***v. Henry, Dennis, and Randy Retzing (The Snow Job)

***MEREDITH (The Lonely Hearts Job)*** v. James Kanack (The First Contact Job)

***MITCHELL KIRKWOOD (The Studio Job) *** v. Hugh Whitman (The Gone Fishin' Job)

***LARRY DUBERMAN (The Reunion Job)*** v. Wendy Baran (The Gimme a K Street Job)

***ANDREW GRANT (The Miracle Job)*** v. Irina Larenko (The Stork Job)

SECOND ROUND CONTESTS (COMPLETED)

***MARK DOYLE (The Bottle Job)*** v. Ian Blackpoole (The First and Second David Job)

Greg "The Mako" Sherman (The Boiler Room Job) v. ***VICTOR DUBENICH (The Nigerian Job, The Last Dam Job)***

Marcus Starke, Chaos, Mikel Dayan, and Apollo (The Two Live Crew Job) v. ***JACK HURLEY (The 12 Step Job)***

***MONICA HUNTER (The 3 Days of the Hunter Job)*** v. Eddie Maranjian (The Order 23 Job)

***JIMMY FORD (The 3 Card Monte Job) *** v. Dr. Anne Hannity (The Inside Job)

Nicky & Heather Moscone (The Wedding Job) v. ***DAMIEN MOREAU (The Big Bang Job, The San Lorenzo Job)***

***MEREDITH (The Lonely Hearts Job)*** v. Mitchell Kirkwood (The Studio Job)

***LARRY DUBERMAN (The Reunion Job)*** v. Andrew Grant (The Miracle Job)

QUARTERFINALS (COMPLETED)

Jack Hurley (The 12 Step Job) v. Monica Hunter (The 3 Days of the Hunter Job)

Mark Doyle (The Bottle Job) v. Victor Dubenich (The Nigerian Job, The Last Dam Job)

Meredith (The Lonely Hearts Job) v. Larry "Doucherman" Duberman (The Reunion Job)

SEMIFINALS (COMPLETED)

Victor Dubenich (The Nigerian Job, The Last Dam Job) v. ***JACK HURLEY (The 12 Step Job)***

***DAMIEN MOREAU (The Big Bang Job, The San Lorenzo Job)*** v. Meredith (The Lonely Hearts Job)

FINAL ROUNDS (COMPLETED)

CHAMPIONSHIP ROUND: Damien Moreau (The BIg Bang Job, The San Lorenzo Job) v. Jack Hurley (The 12 Step Job)

THIRD PLACE ROUND: Victor Dubenich (The Nigerian Job, The Last Dam Job) v. Meredith (The Lonely Hearts Job)

#leverage #favorite mark poll #bracket poll

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 1 year

Text

Raft- James Ford (1)

Pairing: James Ford x Reader

Characters: James Ford

Warnings: N/A

Request: N/A

Word Count: 401

Author: Charlotte

Sawyer did everything in his power to make it clear to you that he did not care about you. The fact that you were only one of a few survivors floating on a bundle of sticks in the middle of the ocean, didn’t seem to mean anything to him, instead the two of you were nothingness. On the island he had seemed to care for a moment, or maybe you just wanted to see that; maybe you just wanted to see something more between you other than your physical relations. You tried to ignore how much that hurt though, to be used and discarded and seen as nothing worth a second look but even the knowledge that once you found help for your fellow survivors, then you’d be unlikely to ever be in contact again.

It had been futile hope though. It was not much of a raft and there were only just enough supplies for the five of you to survive with if you were lucky enough to find land or another vessel soon and if you weren’t that lucky, then you had no idea what you were going to do. That quickly stopped becoming a problem. You didn’t know how far out the raft have travelled when hope grew, and you found a ship.

Time travelled quickly and slowly at once. With the help of a flare, the ship sailed up to the raft, but it wasn’t the saviour you had wanted. In the flash of an eye Sawyer was shot and flung off the raft into the water, Jin swiftly following to save him. Both you and Michael went to defend Walt, but it didn’t matter what you did because he was taken from you without mercy. You were doing your best to keep your balance as an item was thrown onto the raft. You had no idea what it was but the panic in Michael’s eyes told you everything you needed. Before you could decide what to do, Michael gave you a shove, jumping into the water behind you.

You weren’t even fully submerged before the raft was engulfed in flames, wreckage flying out in all directions.

A chunk of one of the logs flew out of the raft, the water not breaking its force before it slammed into your back. The wind in your lungs was shot out, being replaced by water as darkness consumed you.

#Raft #James Ford #James Ford Imagine #James Ford One Shot #Sawyer #Sawyer Imagine #Sawyer One Shot #Lost #Lost TV #Lost Imagine #Lost One Shot #Charlotte

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theageoftheunderstatement · 2 years

Text

NME: Arctic Monkeys: “We know more tricks now, but we’re still rolling on that same instinct”

By Sophie Williams, 21/10/2022

From the outside of Suffolk’s Butley Priory, it sounds as though the ancient building is collapsing in on itself. Located within a secluded and rural pocket of southern England, it is the sanctuary of this converted 14th Century monastery that Arctic Monkeys have chosen to call home for a fortnight. Behind the stained glass windows, guitarist Jamie Cook is conjuring up a rousing squall, jiggling on the spot. His bandmates look on, eyes ablaze with excitement at the wall of noise unfolding before them.

It’s the middle of July 2021, and this is the Sheffield band’s final week at Butley Priory, where they’ve been working on ‘The Car’, their masterful seventh album. Prior to recording, the building had been part of the four-piece’s legend for some time: it’s where longtime producer James Ford – recognised amongst fans as ‘the fifth Arctic Monkey’ – celebrated his 40th birthday. Before they reunited here for the first time since lockdown, however, the band’s initial intention for the record was “to write louder songs than we had for some time,” says frontman Alex Turner, but quickly realised that this collection was evolving beyond a bedrock of heavy riffs. “I think what I found myself wanting to play when the band were around was actually very surprising to me,” he adds.

Every performance was recorded, with the results influencing what the band preserved, honed, and ultimately ditched. And for two weeks, the world outside of Arctic Monkeys’ temporary studio was well and truly banished. When the band – comprising Turner, Cook, bassist Nick O’Malley and Matt Helders on drums – were not walking around the wilds of the Suffolk countryside together, they shared pints and watched on as England’s journey at the pandemic-delayed Euro 2020 tournament played out. For a fortnight, time almost seemed meaningless. The gang were finally back together.

As Turner relays this story to NME, he’s about as far from that memory as you can get. We meet the frontman in an east London pub on a deceptively warm October afternoon a little over a year later, just as ‘The Car’’s release week is starting to kick off. Almost unbelievably, the band’s 2009 hit ‘Crying Lightning’ is playing quietly from the stereo downstairs, as if on cue. Considering that Turner is about to settle down for a drink – or, er, an English Breakfast tea – on the floor above, whoever is in charge of the playlist this lunchtime is blissfully unaware that they’ve managed to tempt fate. Turner looks too busy attending to his little china teapot to notice, anyway.

The group’s highly-anticipated reunion comes along with ‘The Car’, a 10-track collection that, in a five-star review, NME described as “a summary of the band’s story so far: sharp songwriting, relentless innovation and unbreakable teamwork.” Under the supervision of ensemble director Bridget Samuels [Midsommar, The Green Knight] at London’s RAK Studios, it’s the first album on which the band have worked with a full orchestra, allowing Turner’s voice – which sounds more brooding and malleable than it’s ever been – to pierce through a cinematic landscape of strings, piano motifs and low-slung bass rumbles.

Elegiac opener ‘There’d Better Be A Mirrorball’ immediately raises the stakes. A breakup tune that quietly anguishes over vanishing sensations of violin and harpsichord, the album’s lead single was the first to be demoed at Butley Priory. “And picture this: while recording, I’m running around with a 16mm camera that kind of kept me out of the way of everybody a little bit,” says Turner. He ultimately saved some of the footage for himself, and the rest was interspersed throughout the track’s understatedly retro video, making for a touching time capsule of that particular recording session.

Crucially, the new album – with the cover artwork shot by Helders – presents both a more cohesive and collaborative band than the one we heard on 2018’s divisive ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’. That record riffed on consumerism and technology with a burnished depth, but traded it’s wildly successful predecessor’s tsunami of bravado, riffs and hairgel – 2013’s multiple BRIT-winning ‘AM’ – for searching lounge-pop. Its writing credits reveal that most of the band were perhaps under-utilised as performers, given that O’Malley only appears on seven tracks, and Helders’ drumming is largely restrained.

‘The Car’’s daring centrepiece, ‘Body Paint’ flips the script entirely: you can practically hear Turner wink as he sings, “and if you’re thinking of me / I’m probably thinking of you”, before swirling atmospherics and O’Malley’s tumbling bass make way for a gale-force guitar solo from Cook. It’s the full-bodied sound of the Butley Priory trip, which was solely about having fun and bringing that feeling into the new record.

“We weren’t mentally ready to play stadiums up until now” – Alex Turner

By throwing themselves into new, more daring sounds, Arctic Monkeys have emerged fearless, Turner says decisively. “The records we’re making now are definitely different now to the ones we probably thought we would be making when we started out – actually, we didn’t think we’d be even making records anymore,” Turner says. “20 years ago, I didn’t envision ourselves going beyond…” He looks deep into his cup of tea as if searching for the rest of his answer, while taking an enormous pause from which you fear he may never return. “Well, the fact we gave ourselves the name ‘Arctic Monkeys’ alludes to the extent of ambitions we had.” He stops again. “Clearly hardly any.”

Yet Arctic Monkeys’ friendship has endured, in part, because the band have always known when to say no. They built a fanbase on the basis of a few early demos shared by fans through MySpace, and before the four-piece signed with the independent Domino Records – also home to Wet Leg and Hot Chip – they’d already made a pact to never agree to their music being used in advertising. They even turned down a then-coveted offer to appear on Top Of The Pops. Weeks later, their monstrous debut single ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ stormed to the top of the UK Singles Chart instantly – no mean feat for a band without major record label cash or mountains of press on their side. They’d set a precedent to follow their own rules, and it had worked.

Stardom would soon prove to be inescapable, however: the band looked perpetually shellshocked when they broke out as unassuming teenagers with their enduring and now-seminal debut album, 2006’s ‘Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not’. “Somebody call 999, Richard Hawley’s been robbed!,” Turner famously joked, as the band, looking somewhere between a haze of drunkenness and feeling flustered, collected the Mercury Prize later that year. The following decade would see them evolve into the UK’s biggest, most culturally important band: they have gone on to headline Glastonbury twice, perform at the London 2012 Olympics opening ceremony and, perhaps most importantly, have remained consistent, while their peers in sound have failed to keep similar longevity.

“When I think back to earlier times, I feel like we were just running on instinct, creative decisions included,” says Turner, with a gentle laugh. “I mean, like, first and foremost, we didn’t really know how to play our instruments at the start. But beyond that, I don’t really think that much within the band has changed a great deal; we might know a few more tricks, but we’re still rolling on that very same instinct.”

Dressed in a royal blue Lacoste jumper, Turner entertains NME for an hour with a boyish and mischievous charm; his few concessions to age include a formal, paisley-patterned silk scarf and some stubble. A gold link chain lays around his neck – a present from his grandfather that he’s worn everywhere since 2006 – and glints against the autumn sun. As he answers questions, Turner often leans back in his chair and starts re-enacting scenes, giving it some real gusto. No man this effortlessly funny is an accident – behind it all lies a bright, astute and often humorous songwriter.

Trying to discuss his lyrics – which, on ‘The Car’, are often uncharacteristically reflective – in the pub with Turner is a different matter, however, met mostly with some hesitant, yet endearing musings on personal growth. We briefly broach ‘Hello You’, which plays with high drama, and references Turner’s youth spent in north Sheffield – but like a big Hollywood production, what’s pizazz on camera is often pain behind the scenes. “I could pass for 17 if I just get a shave / And catch some Zzzs”, he sings at one point, only half-jokingly. “So much of this new music is scratching at the past and how much of it I should hang on to,” he says. “I think that song is pretty on the nose… as uncomfortable as that may be.”

It’s when describing ‘The Car’’s lushly arranged instrumental sections, however, that you can sense the cogs in Turner’s brain are starting to turn a little quicker. “Around the last album, the big story was like, ‘Wow, he’s got a piano’, which was true to an extent, but I wonder now looking at it, that it was this thing that I now do – recording ideas as you go – that got me going,” he says. His sudden excitement moves him to clench a trademark pair of black Ray Ban sunglasses so tightly in his hand, you fear there’s every chance they could suddenly snap.

Working on the album led to Arctic Monkeys scrapping their old rule that everything they recorded had to be playable live, opening up unseen possibilities. Turner experimented with the wah-wah guitar for both ‘Jet Skis On The Moat’ and the ridiculously funky ‘I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am’ – think ‘Station To Station’-era Bowie meets ELO – the latter being the moment “where everything clicked,” he affirms. Where a younger Arctic Monkeys would have raced through punky verses with lethal precision, ‘The Car’ marinates in the textures of upward sweeps and subtle, honeyed soul.

“I’m pretty happy with how ‘Tranquility Base..’ went down” – Alex Turner

As Turner speaks, it’s easy to picture the studio and imagine the Monkeys, once again, as teenagers in a garage: Turner the leader, Helders and O’Malley the jokers, Cook the near-silent but cunning sage – or, in Turner’s words: “Jamie remains the gatekeeper of the band, as it were.” These days, Cook is the brilliantly straight-faced foil – usually wearing a suit and sunglasses onstage, rocking gently from side to side as he churns out weighty riffs – to Turner’s loose, playful showman.

“I think that’s the key difference maybe with [‘The Car’] and the last record… perhaps we didn’t quite have a grasp of the dynamics of the bigger, newer sounds we were exploring,” he says. “But playing together live again certainly helped us to get there, and we developed a better awareness of each other. You find yourself in a different place when you take the songs to a new setting beyond where they were recorded.”

Even if ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’’s complete stylistic overhaul was curious enough to unsettle fans of the band’s louder, scrappier early days, Turner remains adamant that it was the right move for the group at the time. “I’m actually pretty happy with how it went down,” he says today. “We achieved something that we may not have been able to in the past. I think it definitely gave us the confidence to go to a different place on a record.”‘ The Car’’s ‘Sculptures Of Anything Goes’ – the band’s darkest song yet, a beast of distortion and weighty electronics – even nods to the public’s mixed response to ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’: “Puncturing your bubble of relatability with your horrible new sound”.

He alludes to how, despite ‘AM’ being the band’s most commercially popular album – having gone platinum in the US – with its West Coast rap-inspired cadences and bass-heavy melodies, it also felt like a bold revamp for Arctic Monkeys at the time of its release. “‘Do I Wanna Know?’ felt like a departure from everything that we had done before – and this was similar,” he says. “We had to almost acknowledge that our sound still had a little grease in its hair, and a bit of aggressiveness.”

“I don’t think much has changed within the band since the start” – Alex Turner

Turner says, however, that when Arctic Monkeys played the 26,000-capacity Foro Sol venue in Mexico City in March 2019 as one of the final shows on that tour, it felt like a “brilliant send-off” to what had been their most artistically challenging period. Backstage at that same show, Turner began to “sketch out” demos for ‘The Car’, with the idea that they “could close our shows.” He continues: “I found this footage of me playing a song backstage at that gig, and I thought, ‘I’m going to bottle the energy for the new record.’ It was raw, and full of downstrokes guitar.”

The songs from Foro Sol were eventually scrapped, but if anything, that night proved that the ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’ era had certainly unlocked a more lighthearted side to the band than we had seen in several years. Clips of Turner pretending to lose his train of thought as the twinkling keys of ‘One Point Perspective’ fade out – in tandem with the song’s final lyric – have since been memed into oblivion. It’s a simple, yet persistently effective act: each time, he looks suddenly blank, scratches his chin, and points absently in the air as though trying to remember something. “I don’t think it’s even a choice at this point. When that spotlight centres itself on me, I just can’t help myself,” he says.

Why did the routine start in the first place? Turner’s face curls into a convincing knot of embarrassment. “You know what? I ask myself the same question every 24 hours,” he responds.

In August, Arctic Monkeys formally introduced their new era by headlining Reading & Leeds for the third time in their career, and drew in one of the festival’s biggest crowds in the process. Capping off a remarkable summer of huge outdoor shows across Europe, the weekend proved that a new, young, wildly committed generation of Monkeys fans had come to the fore, many of whom arrived via TikTok or streaming services, partly due to the recent stratospheric success of ‘505’ – the first Monkeys track to fully showcase their emotional depth as performers.

Lifted from 2007’s ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ album, the surging indie-rock track has recently surpassed hits from Eminem and Coldplay, clocking in an average of 1.7 million plays a month on Spotify alone. The stats are even more impressive when you consider that the band have actively chosen to shun social media throughout their career – it’s almost as though they can’t help gaining worldwide attention.

For Turner, seeing audiences continue to react passionately to encore closer ‘505’ has been “genuinely moving”, but he’s bemused by the revival that has come around in the first place. “Without having ‘505’ at the end of our shows for a few years around 2008, I’m not sure if it would have found the new life it has now,” he says. “I hope that doesn’t sound like I’m taking credit [for the revival] – even if it wasn’t totally unexpected, the attention around [‘505’] is really quite special.”

“The renewed attention around ‘505’ is really quite special” – Alex Turner

Arctic Monkeys’ recent live performances have also seen them bring out rarities from their back catalogue, including a moodier rendition of ‘Humbug’ standout ‘Potion Approaching’, and ‘That’s Where You’re Wrong’, a fuzzed-out singalong from the unfairly overlooked ‘Suck It And See’ era. Switching up the setlist has made the band appreciate what they’ve achieved up to this point, Turner explains: “There’s quite a lot of room now for us to unlock songs and these other little things from the past,” he says. “I have almost, like, a PDF in my mind of what we could work on.” His eyebrow arches in confusion. “Wait, it wouldn’t be a PDF, would it? I think I meant to say a spreadsheet…”

It’s this endearing playfulness and intimacy to Turner that makes his disbelief at Arctic Monkeys’ current stature, 20 years into their career, seem genuine. Next summer, they’ll play a full stadium tour across the UK for the first time ever in their career, including two huge hometown shows in Sheffield at Hillsborough Park. Better still, there’s a Glasto-shaped hole in the touring schedule, too.

The scale of these shows is already toying with Turner: “It wouldn’t have made sense for us to play stadiums before this album, and I don’t think we were mentally ready for it up until now,” he says. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself and say that some of our songs ‘belong’ in a stadium, but they could definitely hang out in a stadium.”

He says that they won’t be taking a string section on the forthcoming tour; instead, the band will be assisted by extra keys and synth. Turner is confident that the new album will translate live, and goes on to liken the rich emotional depth across ‘The Car’ to the searing, heart-raising two-minute guitar breakdown that wraps up ‘A Certain Romance’, the crowning achievement from their debut album. “I remember when we were recording ‘A Certain Romance’ and having a conversation with the producer about the final guitar solo,” he says. “There’s something that happens at the end of that track where we break some rules in a single moment. We focused on the [emotional] effect of the instrumentals over the words – and I feel like we’ve been trying to do that again and again since then.”

Are you still proud of that song?

“Yeah,” he replies immediately. “If anything, for the fact that [‘A Certain Romance’] showed that we did actually have these ambitions beyond what we once thought we were capable of. Back then, we would struggle with the idea of adding anything more to the songs; but here, there’s some guitar that goes high, and then comes back in.”

“‘A Certain Romance’ showed ambition beyond what we thought we were capable of” – Alex Turner

Across the table, he begins to play the air guitar, gleefully wriggling around in his seat. For a moment, it’s as though Turner appears spookily untouched by time: eyes bright, wide, and inquisitive; a flash of youthful, riotous joy writ large across his face. He continues: “When we recorded [‘A Certain Romance’] we were all like, ‘Woah, woah, woah…” He raises his hands above his head once more. “‘What have we done here?’ Pushing the music that far out from what we’d done before initially felt contentious, to say the least.’”

Turner looks happy, calm and content, and he should be – he’s still goofing around on the world’s biggest stages, still making music with his childhood best friends, and caring less about critical reception and more about enjoying himself. ‘The Car’ may see Arctic Monkeys traverse a far greater distance from their zippy indie beginnings than ever before, but there are no regrets, Turner says, before trailing off into another warm anecdote from the time the band spent at Butley Priory.

“The excitement and energy of everybody being together, sharing ideas in the same room, was quite powerful,” Turner says, briefly moving his gaze to the table below. “I noticed that, for instance, when I think about how it felt saying goodbye at the end of that session…” He catches himself, and looks faintly misty-eyed – though he’d never let us see that properly.

Turner turns to face us once more. “It’s just… you know, the air totally changes when the rest of the band leave. I don’t quite know what to call it, but I do know that being around them is how to get that magic – and I haven’t ever found it anywhere else,” he says, with a knowing smile.

#interview #nme #the car era #arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #jamie cook #nick o'malley

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walker-extended-universe · 9 months

Text

Season 3 Deleted Scenes

3x01 "World on a String"

Scene 1:

In the Ranger HQ bullpen. Cassie gives the sim card from the neighbor's trail cam to James, saying that the image is pixelated but they should still be able to get a partial plate from it. James says he'll "have digital put a rush on it" and walks away with the card.

Cassie sprints after him, asking if they can "jump the line" on this one, considering it's a missing ranger case. James dismisses this saying they jumped a lot of lines just getting everyone on the search throughout Texas and he's out of favors. Cassie asks for just one more favor to do a deeper background check on Sean.

James, exasperated, tells her that, with all due respect, Sean was a dead end. He knows this is a "hot button" for her but a bag of peanuts is not a clue just because she wants it to be. Cassie, irritated, tells him that, with all due respect, "following every possible lead when my partner and your top Ranger is missing is not a 'hot button', it's my job." She then snarkily suggests that she should follow her "paranoid leads" without using state resources. The scene ends on Cassie and James in an apprehensive stare-off

Scene 2:

Liam exits an elevator in a parking garage, bag of groceries in hand. He's on the phone with Ben, saying that tonight he's going to be taking it easy but he'll be happy to meet up tomorrow morning. Just after he hangs up, a white van careens in front of him and two men with bandana masks jump out and attack.

Liam backs up but they knock the phone from his hands, punch, him, and grab both of his arms to toss him in the back of the van. One of them yells at the driver to "Go, go, go, go" and the tires screech as they pull away.

3x08 "Cry Uncle"

We get a scrolling shot of the outside of the B&B, then a shot of Stella and August approaching up the driveway on foot. They both pause to look at the house in front of them. Stella, annoyed, asks if August is sure this is the place. He says that no, he probably screwed this one up too, and keeps walking up the driveway. Stella sighs and follows him after a moment. The light and airy music playing over this scene is in great contrast with their attitude.

We then cut to Ranger HQ, where Trey hands Cassie some paperwork regarding their current case in the conference room. James pops in to ask if Madison is guilty or innocent. Trey says she was hard to read and tells James that all they really got out of it was that Madison said Ziff "wasn't the man she thought he was". James asks for clarification: "wasn't" as in different or "wasn't" as in dead. Cassie says that's the million dollar question. James nods and tells them he got them access to Ziff's office and computers for them to check out and to let him know if they find anything. They nod and he leaves the room.

3x13 The Deserters

Scene 1:

We're in a Cooper flashback, right after Colin Ford!Cordell beat a bunch of guys at darts. Cooper drags a very smug Cordell away and towards the bar, saying he can't leave Cordell alone for two minutes. Cordell replies that those two minutes earned him $100, which Cooper doesn't seem too impressed by.

Cooper signals the bartender, telling him that their "friends" over by the dartboard want to send them home with a bottle of whiskey. He then raises his beer toward them and they raise theirs in return, which solidifies this story for the bartender. He selects one bottle of whiskey, which Cooper dismisses as "swill" and amends that their "friends" insisted on the best for the war heroes, which the bartender doesn't question, going to look for a better bottle.

Cordell asks Cooper where he learned that con and he replies that that was the only good thing he learned from his father "when the prick wasn't off with his Dallas family". The bartender returns with the whiskey and Cooper thanks him.

Scene 2:

We see Cordell stumble out of the brush, panting as he tries to follow Cooper's trail. He frantically checks the ground and starts to freak out a bit as it appears the trail has just gone cold. He turns and looks at the sky as birds caw and pass over. He gulps and continues cautiously forward.

Scene 3:

Trey is staring off into space at the Grey Flag compound, putting his hands up to fight when he gets clapped on the shoulder. It's Snyder, his new partner now that Lana has run away. Snyder apologizes for scaring him but Trey brushes it off, saying he's just excited to meet their leader tonight. Snyder understands that.

Snyder then tells Trey he has a question and he wants an honest answer. He wants to know if his previous partner, the man Trey let die to keep his cover, suffered in death. Trey gets pulled into a flashback as he answers. He says that he was too late to save the man (something we see isn't true in the flashback) but that dying by blood loss is one of the least painful ways to go. He explains the medical jargon behind it and reassures Snyder that his former partner didn't suffer too badly. Snyder appreciates the peace of mind from that. Before he walks away, he confirms that he and Trey are now partners.

3x17 It Writes Itself

Scene 1:

Cassie, Gerie, and Kelly are directed to poolside lounger chairs at the spa resort. As they bask in the luxury of their soft robes and the eucalyptus towels, Kelly gets an alert on her phone. One of her players just posted a video of himself doing a keg stand at his son's 10th birthday party. Cassie and Geri agree that that's not good, but it's also not her problem right now. Kelly is hesitant but they push, insisting that her assistant can handle things for a few days. Cassie hold her hand out for Kelly's phone and she eventually agrees. Cassie then confiscates Geri's phone too and they settle in to relax.

Scene 2:

Liam is reading by the fireplace at home when Stella enters the room. He asks her what she got up to yesterday and she tells him the truth: that she went to a party with Sadie. Before Liam can comment, she says that it was actually an eye opening experience.

Liam puts his book aside and asks her to elaborate. Stella comments on how lately she's just been floating around, not really being sure what she wants to do next. Liam that actually she hasn't been; they're running the horse rescue together, aren't they?

Stella says that of course she is, but she needs- or at least wants- some space. Liam seems put off by this and she rushes to assure him that it's nothing personal. She knows what she wants to do, she wants to help run the horse rescue, and she wants some space. Liam asks how she's going to get that space and she tells him that she wants to attend the local college in the fall. She goes on to say that they did accept her once before and it's not like she spent her gap year partying in Cabo. She then tells him that they've accepted her again for the coming fall semester. Liam is, of course, very happy for her and makes a joke about crappy dorms rooms in her future.

3x18 "It's a Nice Day for a Ranger Wedding"

DJ James is making a wedding speech for his parents. He thanks them for always making this family feel like a family but that this version, with them married, is the best possible version. They James family hugs, then Trey stands up and says he has a few words he wants to say too.

He thanks them for reminding all of them what real commitment looks like. After all, it wasn't too long ago that he wasn't sure if he was even going to stay in Austin, let alone thrive there. But they, and everyone int his room, are his home now. His family. Then they toast and everyone claps.

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