#crazy cross time capers
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Meet Hard Boiled Henwy! Scourge of all!
So in another post, I made reference to hard Boiled Henwy, and was asked for an explanation by @thefingerfuckingfemalefury ... Which is a reasonable. request.
Back in the 90's, the Britain based x-book Excalibur had sort of fallen into an unsatisfying langour.
After the gleeful insanity of the early Chris Claremont written, Alan Davis pencilled romps involving the Warwolves, the Crazy Gang and the Cross Time Caper (Even if that DID go on too long). Davis left after 17 issues, and Claremont after 27 issues, and no one seemed to quite know how to deal with a team which wasn't the usual X-Men fare.
So, in issue 42, Alan Davis returned as artist AND writer and the series reached new heights, as Davis did know how to deal with them and had no problem embracing the weird and just plain comsically silly!
It's hard to think of a better exemplar than this, the cover of Davis' first issue
And worry not, we are soon to meet this agent of doom! And even witness his creation!
Because Davis immediately returns to one of the most outlandish teams introduced in the title: The Technet!
The Technet are a VERY long story in and of themselves (Involving Alan Moore, Alan Davis, Doctor Who Weekly, and Captain Britain), but they are summarised in the first panel, so don't worr about it.
Just know that Gatecrasher is the large lady who leads this motley team, and she has a grudge against the Excalibur team, and has a capture contract on Phoenix to deliver.
So we cut to the Excalibur team having breakfast in their lighthouse home (and base of operations) which is going normally, until Meggan tries to boil an egg.
What horror could emerge? What unspeakable nightmare lurks within this calcium cage?
If you guessed a psychopathic, genetically engineered, self-destructing Tweety Bird, congratulations!
Now, whilst Henwy is something of a one shot wonder (literally) fret not, because Gatecrasher can, and has, made others in the years since, all called Hard Boiled Henwy because why change a winning formula?
#excalibur#technet#alan davis#hard boiled henwy#nightcrawler#shadowcat#meggan puceanu#captain britain#phoenix#kurt wagner#kitty pryde#brian braddock#rachel summers#gatecrasher
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A Christmas Caper
Coco Cuomo: Okay, Sharpen. Looks like she's not here. Away at some fancy rich people holiday vacay, no doubt. Her family is loaded! *shines her flashlight around the dark office*
Sharpen: Are you sure Trixany said to steal this thing back from Haris Pilton, because she stole it first and *deep breath* technically, there's no backsies in corporate commercial law, so like 'it's totally still my idea, so go get it?'
Coco: Ya know, for a himbo, you've got a memory like a steel trap. That is like word-for-word how my sista put it.
Sharpen: Thanks?
Coco: As a successful Goblin businesswoman, I gotta tell ya--You should go into cross-faction international law. With those do-gooder defenders over in Pandaria, they'd never see you comin'.
Sharpen: *mutters* ...Stupid Baine Bloodhoof. Garrosh was a bum!
Coco: I just wish the comm connection wasn't so bad. It cut out before Trix could tell us the name of the damn thing. When will my step-sista learn not to monologue like a villain and just get to the point?
Sharpen: *looks around the dark room with glowing Night Elf eyes* So, what does the file look like again?
Coco: Eh, it ain't gonna be big. It's a screenplay written by Trixany, ya know. So uh... heavy on the B.S., a little Kaja-Cola sponsored love story, a coupla parody musical numbers, then explosions at the end.
Sharpen: Is this it? 'Gone With the Dragonflights?' Or maybe, 'Dragons Prefer Brunettes?' Hrm, this one has Wrathion on the cover.
Coco: No, but yer gettin' warmer. This is our family's last chance to make money off this expansion, so yes--it do be dragon-themed. Try more rip-off-sounding. Rememba, the title mighta been changed by Haris and her mooks!
Sharpen: How about this? 'The Sabellian Movie.' It's... pink. Everything is this crazy pink color and it's supposed to be the true story of the Pink Dragonflight. Why is Wrathion cast as Ken? And Deathwing is Crazy Barbie apparently.
Coco: Wow. That IS a ripoff. But no, too thinky. We're looking for something more obvious--
Sharpen: 'Game of Oathstones.'
Coco: Eyup. *reads a few lines* That's Trix's writing style alright.
Sharpen: But how does this fantasy world get taken over by dragons when everybody's already dragons? *peers searchingly*
Coco: We've found it! And a good thing, too! How many stolen screenplays does Haris have in her office? How many dreams has she crushed, just sitting on promises and promises that she would produce these, make these artists into real talents! It's so cruel. No one should have that kinda power! Who IS she?? The Grinch? Ebenezer Scrooge in designer pumps?
Sharpen: Well, thankfully, we broke in during the holidays while Haris and her staff are gone. We should be able to easily slip back out again. It's the perfect crime. Nothing short of a miracle of screenwriting could ever stop us.
Narrator: Somehow, Haris returned.
Haris: Stealing from me? *switches on the office lights* I don't think so. SECURITY!!
Coco: *facepalms* You just had to break the fourth wall, didn't ya Sharpen?
Haris: Oh, no. Don't blame the sweet himbo this time. You wanted to know how it's done?
Sharpen: ...
Coco: ... ... What, so ya used yer hearthstone to get back here, or somethin'?
Haris: *doom voice* I AM the fourth wall.
Coco & Sharpen: Waaaaauuuughhhh!!!
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Hope Springs Eternal Part 1
I shivered
palpably in response to the stimulus of this auspicious winter morning as though I were a nervous acolyte on his first day of probation.
It was that benchmark event called my Birthday.
Like Christmas and Easter they have this annular ring in every sense.
Dates and their import. I was raised to have the healthiest respect for them.
A rendezvous of another kind awaited me later in the day that was seasonal in another sense.
But that just added a certain spring to my step.
Entering my eight decade on earth I dragged that motley crew of bones about me.
Like a hod carrier carting clusters of smokeless polish coal for some imperious client.
But the mind has immense powers waiting to be tapped.
A mineral rich load, a vein of resources with targeted thoughts that were the match for any prescription medicine.
Age is but a number and they can be sung in harmony with one’s universe or jarringly and at odds.
I’m a late in life poet with lines very gingerly crafted at this point in time.
My aunt Virginia who raised me when my mother died started the revolution in my thinking.
“Your mind should be a diary.
Always take note of what’s happening around you and when it happened.
Time, dates, everything.
It always comes in useful.”
She said in that nuanced tonic sol fa accent of hers.
Virginia instilled in me this most functional regard for which I am eternally grateful.
Her words about dates and time echoed continually through the recesses of mind to my ultimate benefit.
I had the required notepad and pen at hand to record anything I could sculpt into a creative ode.
As of yet
a title eluded me but maybe something lustrous, radiant romantic would be apt.
Quite a lot has been composed already much to my surprise.
Virginia’s advice and the embryonic epic planted fertile shoots in my head as I entered the kitchen.
I called it my domain.
Structured in an algebraic fashion with proximity dovetailing elegance it resembled a gallery.
The sink and shrouded tap heads my first port of call.
Stooping over archly I filled a gleaming white plastic jug kettle for that morale boosting first cup of tea.
As I sipped my tea the insights Virginia kindly bequeathed started flooding back.
Those condensed pearls of wisdom regarding time and it’s ambience.
Optimism and cheer were her other passions.
As well as paying attention.
“Focus on your environment. There is joy in abundance.” Virginia opined.
“A treasure trove awaits for those who concentrate.” She said.
“Where there is joy there’s hope.
Time and hope are intertwined.”
Never losing a chance to stress matters time-related.
Typical Virginia logic.
I’m taking it more seriously now as my respect for that statute of limitations called life expectancy approaches.
This lady’s pointers were manfully ingested as my tea stained cup wobbled in my right hand with it’s rivulet of veins.
The tea leaves scattered wildly in that microcosm of a drinking vessel had a fleeting fascination for me.
But as I scanned my surroundings with the eye of a keyhole surgeon I couldn’t help but notice something else.
The kaleidoscope of colour filling the french panel window in front of the kitchen sink.
Window drabness red carded with the zeal of a strict umpire dismissing an offending player.
My intuition told me to brace myself for events both surprising and anticipated .
This afternoon’s engagement is to the forefront of my mind and for good reason.
Think I’ll leave the cell phone behind.
Or did I hear it go off?
My device was of the more crowded cumbersome type with stubborn square buttons that even the more dexterous hand would find difficult to navigate.
The fingers slipped involuntarily like I sometimes did on those treacherous black ice patches.
“It’ll wait. Can’t really be that important.” I said to myself.
It was one of those phones that emitted this discordant buzz when some arrant nuisance rings at the most inopportune time which is often.
“No … face the morning and it’s canvas of brittle prospect.” Speaking with eloquent pride to myself, Hamilton Lake.
Walking outside on this my 78th birthday could be seen as an obstacle course.
I’ve always had a thing about posture.
The feet must be properly positioned and ready for anything unexpected.
The steps from my house could be awkward and angular with hidden crevices.
Those rugged pockmarks gouged out by the chisel of that tyrant called the elements.
The inherent beauty of garden plants, on the other hand,
purged whatever sluggishness there was in my frame.
Their spectral tint and gravity defying droop gave my eyes an optic fillip.
Green border shrubs and yellow rose petals bore a magic that defied description.
Albeit with telltale winter stains.
But the mindfulness of gait and knowing that slippage could be fatal moderated my enthusiasm about my settings.
Onto the yard and then the slope towards town with a propensity for the occasional wobble notwithstanding.
A downward denouement laced with grit and optimism.
The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered with tufts of flickering grass cavorting about in a light south east breeze.
Haywire brambles whose overlapping tentacles were embedded in every mound or patch.
Star shaped brown leaves as veiled cover for those sharp spines sticking out.
The bane of every bulging blood vessel.
An ice clad descent that can either capsize or upend even the most determined stride.
Ice that most deceptive gloss that far too easily masks it’s latent perils.
Irrespective I continued unabashed.
The heart, portent of fragility, bruising barometer of one’s twilight moment can be an ally.
A motivator of noble human impulse.
My rainbow tipped walking stick was my elder compass.
A bearing locator for crazy paving pavement slabs.
Those structures fractured by peculiarities of sudden temperature with their plummets and summits!
But focus though impaired was motivated by a stoic forbearance imbued with fire in the soul.
Virginia’s velvet toned voice enjoined on us at home to watch the clouds.
The wispy contours, greyed over forms, wooly frills and outlines drifting overhead.
She also warned of their penchant for unleashing torrents which could spoil the daily strolls of even the most ernest of ramblers.
Today the clouds weaved their way across that azure blue path called the sky.
Curiously enough the self same clouds added to their repertoire by the graceful skirting of rooftops and faraway rock formations on the outskirts of town.
“Clouds are a heavenly canvas. A floating exhibit of the firmament.
They inspire poets, works of art.” Virginia said.
They were doing just that in my case with aplomb.
The planned mysterious link up was never lost sight of amid Virginia’s majestic musings.
“Use your imagination or your imagination will use you. The borders between make belief and the real world must always be maintained.
Imaginings of every kind can be triggered by just about anything familiar.
They can assume a life of their own.”
Wonderful counsel from a wonderful woman.
Virginia, however, unlike some philosophers had a marvelous sense of humor but abhorred the canned, corny variety.
Although such humor couldn’t always be avoided I was mindful of her sensitivity on the subject.
Meticulously taking out that pad again I scribbled a few more lines.
It’s beginning to fill up.
The only thing that remains is to have someone to dedicate it to.
The human eye, a person’s best camera turned to the leach like ivy carpet which clung with tenacity to the grey grained stone wall narrowly to my right.
Preserving their corporeal integrity and playing their part while going largely unobserved.
Fir trees, enclosed by pavement railings and gardens had an overwhelming stillness about them.
An unyielding rooted presence.
They too are age defiant when cultivated and getting the right supports.
These trees act as filters for the dust, smoke and fumed manifestations of the modern manufacturer.
Urban heat island effect offset and mitigated.
All these details forensically noted.
A sudden wakening ensued.
“Hi there, Hamilton. Lovely morning for a stroll.”
My inner space rightly interrupted for a different reality.
“Maybe we’ll meet later at one of your favourite spots or a coffee shop.”
Local teens, Sonia and Winfred with whom I regularly crossed paths and swopped pleasantries of a deeper heartfelt kind.
They alighted from their bicycles
“It’s your birthday today isn’t it?
You’d put people half your age and mine to shame.” The young lady Sonia said.
Winfred her boyfriend agreed.
“Such generosity I rarely encountered from my own group.” I thought to myself.
Sonia, a vibrant vivacious youth whose tactful airborne words shone as brightly as her arched angelic face.
Winfred, her boyfriend had a slightly bulging chin and matted haired that looked as if it had been constantly drenched.
His was a handsomeness harrowed out by high jinx and crack of dawn capers.
After a friendly departure this couple dashed off with a daring and delight so dirigere of the young.
As well as the young at heart.
–
Sunday Submission: @mantrabay
Photograph and short story by mantrabay copyright protected.
Part two will be submitted next week with your kind permission.
#mantrabay#submission sunday#submission#writers on tumblr#short story#written word#fiction#photographers on tumblr#photography#original photography#other#Hope Springs Eternal Part 1
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Coming in April!
NEW 2020 1080p HD masters JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS IN OUTER SPACE
Run Time 352:00
Subtitles English SDH
Audio Specs DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English, MONO - English
Aspect Ratio 1.33:1 4x3 FULL FRAME
Product Color COLOR
Disc Configuration 2 BD 50
Rock stars Josie and the Pussycats are out of this world...literally! When the bumbling Alexandra accidentally launches Josie and the gang into outer space, they travel through the galaxy searching for a path back to Earth. Along the way, they meet cat people, robot monsters, evil dictators, space pirates and plenty of strange creatures, including their new companion Bleep, voiced by Hanna-Barbera legend Don Messick. Fortunately, everyone’s a fan of Josie and the Pussycats, including aliens! Rocket through the universe with your favorite superstars as they save the day, sing some songs and have a hip-happenin’ good time in a 2-disc, 16-episode Josie and the Pussycats in Outer Space complete series collection that hits all the right notes!
NEW 2021 1080p HD Master Sourced from 4K scan of preservation film elements!
GREEN DOLPHIN STREET
Run Time 141:00
Subtitles English SDH
Audio Specs: DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English, MONO - English
Aspect Ratio: 1.37:1 4x3 FULL FRAME
Product Color BLACK & WHITE
Disc Configuration BD 50
Special Features: Lux Radio Theater Broadcast; Theatrical Trailer (HD)
The Academy Award® winner about star-crossed love that spans the years – and the globe. After her triumph as the lunchroom temptress in the crime classic The Postman Always Rings Twice, Lana Turner expanded her range with Green Dolphin Street. Set in 19th century Europe and New Zealand, this sweeping romance tells the story of two beautiful sisters, one headstrong (Turner) and one gentle (Donna Reed), and of the man (Richard Hart) who marries one even though he loves the other. The film’s riptides of emotion are matched by breathtaking physical tumult: a fierce Maori uprising plus a catastrophic earthquake and tidal wave that earned the film a 1947 Oscar® for special effects. With its dramatic story and spectacular visuals, Green Dolphin Street drew huge audiences for epic moviemaking, being one of the top-ten box office hits of the year.
NEW 2021 1080p HD Master Sourced from 4K scan of Nitrate preservation elements!
BROADWAY MELODY OF 1940
Run Time 102:00
Subtitles English SDH
Audio Specs: DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English, MONO - English
Aspect Ratio: 1.37:1 4x3 FULL FRAME
Product Color BLACK & WHITE
Disc Configuration BD 50
Special Features: Making-of Featurette: "Begin the Beguine" (hosted by Ann Miller); "Our Gang Comedies: The Big Premiere"; MGM Cartoon: "The Milky Way" ; Original Theatrical Trailer (HD)
The job – a career breakthrough – is supposed to go to hoofer Johnny Brett, but a mix-up in names gives it to his partner. Another example of Broadway hopes dashed? Not when Johnny is played by Fred Astaire. Sparkling Cole Porter songs, clever comedy and dance legends Astaire and Eleanor Powell make the final Broadway Melody (co-starring George Murphy) a film to remember. Powell’s nautical “All Ashore" routine (a/k/a I Am the Captain”), Astaire’s blissful “I’ve Got My Eyes on You” and Fred & Eleanor's elaborate routine to Cole Porter's classic "I Concentrate On You" are more than enough to please any fan. But they’re just a warm-up for the leads to tap one finale number into immortality: “Begin the Beguine,” introduced by Frank Sinatra in That’s Entertainment! with, “You can wait around and hope, but you’ll never see the likes of this again.”
NEW 2021 1080p HD Master Sourced from a new 4K restoration of the last-known surviving nitrate Technicolor print!
DOCTOR X (1932)
Run Time 76:00
Subtitles English SDH
Audio Specs: DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English, MONO - English
Aspect Ratio: 1.37:1 4x3 FULL FRAME
Product Color COLOR; BLACK & WHITE
Disc Configuration BD 50
Special Features: Alternate B&W version of feature; DOCTOR X (HD): UCLA Before & After Restoration featurette (HD); New documentary: "Monsters and Mayhem: The Horror Films of Michael Curtiz (HD); New feature commentary by author/film historian Alan K. Rode; Archival feature commentary by Scott MacQueen, head of preservation, UCLA Film and Television Archive. Original B&W Theatrical Trailer (HD)
Is there a (mad) doctor in the house? “Yes!” shrieks Doctor X, filmed in rare two-strip Technicolor®. An eminent scientist aims to solve a murder spree by re-creating the crimes in a lab filled with all the dials, gizmos, bubbling beakers and crackling electrostatic charges essential to the genre. Lionel Atwill is Doctor Xavier, pre-King Kong scream queen Fay Wray is a distressed damsel and Lee Tracy snaps newshound patter, all under the direction of renowned Michael Curtiz. The new two-color Technicolor master was restored by UCLA Film and Television Archive and The Film Foundation in association with Warner Bros. Entertainment. Funding provided by the Hobson/Lucas Foundation. Also includes the separately filmed B&W version (which has been restored and restored from its original nitrate camera negative) originally intended for small U.S. markets and International distribution, and which has been out of distribution for over 30 years.
NEW 2021 1080p HD Master Sourced from 4K scan of original nitrate Technicolor negatives!
ANNIE GET YOUR GUN (1950)
Run Time 107:00
Subtitles English SDH
Sound Quality DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English
Aspect Ratio 1.37:1 4x3 FULL FRAME
Product Color COLOR
Disc Configuration BD 50
Special Features: Susan Lucci retrospective & intro piece (from 2000 DVD release); Outtakes: Let’s Go West Again-Betty Hutton, Doin’ What Comes Natur’lly-Judy Garland, I’m an Indian, Too-Judy Garland, Colonel Buffalo Bill with Howard Keel and Frank Morgan; Stereo audio pre-recording session tracks including There’s No Business Like Show Business featuring Judy Garland; Theatrical Re-issue Trailer (HD)
Betty Hutton (as Annie Oakley) and Howard Keel (as Frank Butler) star in this sharpshootin’ funfest based on the 1,147-performance Broadway smash boasting Irving Berlin’s beloved score, including “Doin’ What Comes Natur’lly,” “I Got the Sun in the Morning” and the anthemic “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” As produced by Arthur Freed, directed by George Sidney, and seen and heard in this new remastered HD presentation, this lavish, spirited production showcases songs and performances with bull’s-eye precision, earning an Oscar®* for adaptation scoring. The story is a brawling boy-meets-girl-meets-buckshot rivalry. But love finally triumphs when Annie proves that, yes, you can get a man with a gun!
NEW 2021 1080p HD Master! QUICK CHANGE (1990)
Run Time 88:00
Subtitles English SDH
Sound Quality DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English
Aspect Ratio 1.85:1, 16 X 9 WIDESCREEN
Product Color COLOR
Disc Configuration BD 25
Special Feature: Theatrical Trailer
The star of Caddyshack, Ghostbusters and Groundhog Day headlines and codirects this uproarious Big Apple heist-and-pursuit caper. Bill Murray plays Grimm, a frazzled urbanite who disguises himself as a clown – and sets out to rob a bank. Geena Davis and Randy Quaid play accomplices in Grimm’s daring scheme and Jason Robards is the blustery cop caught up in Grimm’s “Clown Day Afternoon.” Swiping a million bucks is a snap compared to getting out of town. Grimm and cohorts commandeer a car, a cab, a bus, a baggage tram and a plane (and encounter future stars Stanley Tucci and Tony Shalhoub in hilarious supporting roles) to make what becomes a less-than-merry escape. But for comedy lovers, Quick Change is a ticket to ride!
NEW 2021 1080p HD Master Sourced from 4K scan of best surviving nitrate preservation elements! EACH DAWN I DIE (1939)
Run Time 92:00
Subtitles English SDH
Audio Specs: DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English, MONO - English
Aspect Ratio: 1.37:1 4x3 FULL FRAME
Product Color BLACK & WHITE
Disc Configuration BD 50
Special Features: Warner Night at the Movies including 1939 Short Subjects Gallery: Vintage Newsreel, WB Technicolor Short: "A Day at Santa Anita", WB Cartoon: "Detouring America"; Restrospective featurette: "Stool Pigeons and Pine Overcoats: The Language of Gangster Films" ; Feature Commentary by Film Historian Haden Guest; Breakdowns of 1939: Studio Blooper Reel; WB Cartoon: "Each Dawn I Crow"; Radio show w/George Raft & Franchot Tone; Trailer for "Wings of the Navy" and Original Theatrical Trailer for Each Dawn I Die (HD)
Framed for manslaughter after he breaks a story about city corruption, reporter Frank Ross is sure he’ll prove his innocence and walk out of prison a free man. But that’s not how the system works at Rocky Point Penitentiary. There, cellblock guards are vicious, the jute-mill labor is endless, and the powers Ross fought on the outside conspire to keep him in. Frank’s hope is turned to hopelessness. And he’s starting to crack. Two of the screen’s famed tough guys star in this prison movie that casts a reform-minded eye on the brutalizing effects of life in the slammer. James Cagney “hits a white-hot peak as [Ross,] the embittered, stir-crazy fall guy” (Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guide). And George Raft (Cagney’s friend since their vaudeville days) portrays racketeer Hood Stacey, who may hold the key to springing Ross.
NEW 2021 1080p HD Master Sourced from 4K scan of best surviving preservation elements!
ANOTHER THIN MAN (1939)
Run Time 102:00
Subtitles English SDH
Audio Specs: DTS HD-Master Audio 2.0 - English, MONO - English
Aspect Ratio: 1.37:1 4x3 FULL FRAME
Product Color BLACK & WHITE
Disc Configuration BD 50
Special Features: M-G-M Musical Short: Love on Tap; Classic M-G-M Cartoon: The Bookworm
Dum-Dum, Wacky, Creeps, Fingers: They’re just a few of the hoodlums in the world of amateur sleuths and professional bon vivants Nick and Nora Charles. And now there’s a new hood: parenthood. A birthday – make that boithday – party that some of da boys hold for infant Nick Jr. is part of the fun in this third film in the witty series. The case begins when the Charles family arrives for a weekend with a Long Island industrialist who fears someone wants to kill him. Sure enough, his fears come true. Nick (William Powell) is among the suspects. Asta scrams with what may be the murder weapon. And Nora (Myrna Loy) has her own ideas about the case and sneaks off to a nightclub to ferret out a clue. “Madam, how long have you been leading this double life?” Nick asks. “Just since we’ve been married,” she replies.
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Fandom: Big Time Rush
Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC)
Rating: T (for some cursing)
Word Count: 11.3k
Summary: When James gets a secret admirer gift on Valentine’s Day, he drags Mickey around the Palm Woods to find the sender – not knowing the sender is closer than he thinks.
Contents: mentioned social anxiety, angst, idiots who like each other being idiots, semi-reluctant pining, show-standard humor and highjinks, implied disordered eating, valentine’s day, envy, self-loathing
A/N: I was going to wait until the 14th to post this but I need to get it off my hands so I can stop picking and editing it to death. Have at it! Hope you like it! ALSO! Someone please let me know if it gets truncated at James’s text. On mobile it says the post is too long and cuts it off at the end but on desktop it’s fine. If I have to delete this and make it a two-parter I will! You need to see the proper ending! Also please leave comments on the fic if you liked it and feel so inclined (no pressure obvs), I’d love to read them on the body rather than tags so I can save them somewhere. :) Happy Valentine’s Day!
Tag: @mystic-scripture @foxesandmagic @witchofinterest @juliesdahlias @raging-violets @ocfairygodmother @lareiism
Propping the large wicker basket against her popped hip, Mickey knocked on the door right beneath the square 2J placard. Her knuckles briefly touched the wood on the fourth knock when the door swung inwards. She quickly stopped her extending arm in its tracks, her fist resting inches from Kendall’s face. Eyes crossed, staring at her knuckles, he took a step back.
“Oh! Sorry Kindle. I didn’t think you’d get to the door so fast,” she apologized, wrapping her arms around the basket, bringing it to her front.
“You know, the door’s always open. You don’t have to knock.” As Kendall spoke, he moved to the side and brought his arm back in a sweeping gesture.
“Excuse me?” Mickey’s eyebrow popped upwards and she walked past him. “Kindle Knight, my momma’d have my hide if I just barged into someone’s home!” She carefully set the basket down onto the nearby table. Leaning her weight against one palm on the tabletop, she placed another on her hip. “I know there’s such a thing as being ‘Minnesota Nice’, but y’all’re asking for it.”
Kendall scoffed. “What do you mean? The only person who’d come right in is Bitters—and I see your point,” Kendall said. Mickey winked and made a clicking noise out the side of her mouth. “Is that it?” He gestured to the basket as he approached.
“Yep!” Lifting the lid, she removed a gallon Ziploc bag and set it aside as she leaned forward to review the contents. Not that she needed to, she made double-triple-quadruple sure everything she’d prepared the night before and that morning was in its rightful place before she snuck out. Jazz hadn’t noticed beneath her flurry of helping Mel pick out something for her date with Dak to Malibu. “If you don’t mind, I took a few liberties with what you wanted.” When he’d originally pulled her aside during a recording session asking her to make a picnic for him and Jazz, he’d merely shrugged and suggested that she put in anything “Valentine-y” when she asked if he wanted anything specific. So, she zhooshed it up a little; her sister deserved the best and that’s what she was going to ensure Kendall gave her. “You have a bottle of sparkling cider, strawberries, smoked salmon, caper, and goat cheese topped crostini, spinach and feta cheese pastry spirals, barbeque bacon and chicken bites, and, for dessert, slices of strawberry rhubarb pie and two flutes of beignet tiramisu with chocolate ganache.”
Kendall’s nose wrinkled. “Chocolate guh-whaaa?”
“Goodbye!” Mickey shoved the basket into his arms. Tilting her head to the side, she studied his red plaid shirt and reached out to fix the collar. “Keep the cold stuff in the insulated bag until you’re ready to eat it or else the beignets will start to get soggy.” Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth when she went for the fringe of hair poking out from beneath his beanie. Ordinarily she’d balk at the sight of him wearing it, on a date no less, but Jazz liked him in his beanies so she could let it slide. Taking a step back, she surveyed the rest of his appearance and nodded her approval. “You’re all set! If you’re worried about your breath, I threw in some Ice Breakers and mini floss. Jazz is waiting for you at the park.”
“Thanks so much for this, Mickey,” he said, flashing a dimpled smile. His green eyes crinkled in the corners. “I really appreciate it.”
She beamed and a rush of satisfaction sent a pleased flush to her cheeks. She rocked back and forth on her navy Docs. “What are friends for if they can’t help you woo their sister?”
“…To give me free food?”
She pinched his cheek. “You’re lucky I like you.” Making a ‘shoo’ gesture with her hands, Mickey pushed Kendall towards the door. He flashed a finger guns sign at her and hurried away. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel, her locs cascading over one shoulder with the turn. “Okay Katie, he’s gone,” she called up to the loft above.
With a thumping commotion, Katie spilled out the open mouth of the swirly slide. Rounding the table, she crossed her arms. “You got the stuff?”
Mickey mimicked her gesture, raising a brow. “You got a cooler? I’m not letting all my hard work go to waste.”
Katie lifted her chin. “Yeah, I got a cooler.”
“Then I got your stuff.” Mickey picked up the Ziploc bag and handed it out to her. “Homemade chocolate turtles, at your service. I think seven per bag is a good amount. If anyone tries to push for more, remember that they’re the ones who are trying to get candy at the last minute on Valentine’s Day.”
“Got it!” With an eager—and almost manic—grin, Katie snatched the bag out of Mickey’s hands and shoved them into the small red cooler sitting atop of the breakfast bar. She dragged the cooler off the counter and hurried past her, making a beeline for the door. Calling over her shoulder she added, “And we’re splitting the profits 55-45.”
“Freeze, Kid!” Mickey squinted at Katie’s back, her hand gripping the doorknob. “We agreed on 50-50.” She wiggled a finger in the space between herself and Katie’s back.
Katie whirled around. “Yeah, but I have to think about my college fund. Between your band and playing bass for Big Time Rush, you have all the money you could need.” Mickey snorted. With widening eyes and a pout to her lower lip, Katie said. “Do you want to be the one to tell my mom you’re denying me the funds for a college education?”
Mickey pressed her lips together, doing her best to keep a smile off her face; partly in awe at her gall, and also partly with pride. The kid was good. Too good. Or else Mickey was a sucker for a well-placed pout. She poked her tongue into her cheek, dragging it against the soft, smooth surface and exhaled a sigh. “Fine! But if anyone asks where you got the candy from, make sure to mention my name. I want to try and get Mickey’s Morsels off the ground while I can. Guilty pleasures can be a good cash grab.”
“Then I want 10% of any future profits for the promotion.”
“Deal.”
“Deal!” Like Kendall, Katie pointed a finger gun gesture at her and hustled out the door.
When it slammed shut, Mickey dug her fingers into the side of her head. Geeze, this holiday. She didn’t mind making treats for her friends to use at their discretion, but she wanted no part in the holiday itself. It made people crazy, trying to find ways to profess their love for people. And for just that one day? The idea had never sat right with her. Why contain their appreciation to one day when the other three hundred and sixty-four were available? Not to mention the price gouging on flowers and candy—the turtle prices were reasonable!—and society’s penchant for making the single people feel like losers for not having that special someone for the one day.
Not that she was a loser. Okay, so maybe she had been slightly irked when she learned Mel and Jazz had plans with their boyfriends for the day. Her other sister, Sammi, had already flown to Nashville to be with her long-standing boyfriend for the occasion. Hell, even her aunt Kelly had a blind date for the night, a double with Miss Jennifer. (It wasn’t a blind date for Miss Jennifer, she was going out with Fabio. It was who Fabio was bringing for Kelly that attached the ‘blind’ classification. When Jazz offered up the suggestion Gustavo was her date, Kelly nearly broke her neck with how fast she denied that claim.)
She wasn’t envious, not at all, it’s just…well, it was a bit odd to be the only one without plans. They were supposed to do everything together, right? Wasn’t that the point of being born with them? How’d she miss the memo on getting a boyfriend? Not that it mattered. And she got over it anyway. Helping her sisters and her friends have special days was all she needed to feel fulfilled. With Kelly’s apartment empty, she had a pint of Häagen Dazs, a few pop-punk playlists, her pet ferret, and Legally Blonde to keep her company.
“Ahem.”
Or not.
Eyebrows crinkling, Mickey turned only to yelp at the sight of James stretched out on a black and white checkered blanket, one arm resting on a propped-up knee, the long stem of a deep red rose clamped between his smiling teeth. The orange couch had been pushed aside, allowing for the blanket to take its place on the floor. Plates of heart-shaped candy, brownies, soft pretzels, cookies, and cinnamon rolls covered the surface, nestled near two cans of Diet Coke, all beneath a crackling fire.
Mickey’s eyes widened and her thoughts raced so fast they nearly collided with one another. When did he get there? How did she not hear him? How did he set that up so fast? Where did he hide it? Where did he manage to find heart-shaped cinnamon rolls? He had to go for the pretzel too, didn’t he? Darn her appreciation for bread. And—was that a fireplace? Where the hell did he get a fireplace?
She sucked a breath in through her nose, fighting to ease the twitching to her lip and the racing of her heart and the quivering in her legs. Upon closer inspection the fire was only a setting on a tv screen propped up on the floor. Okay, that was good. Why he didn’t just use the one hanging off the wall she didn’t dare ask. Like with Carlos, sometimes it was better to not ask questions.
James removed the rose from his mouth, his smile not budging an inch. “I was just thinking, since we’re both here, and we’re both single, and it’s Valentine’s Day, how about you and me”—he gestured to the space between them with the rose; Mickey watched as a petal fell off and fluttered to the ground—“spend the day together. We could even make-out—ow, thorn.”
Oh, dear god. She had a feeling God wouldn’t help her if he came up with this form of torture for her to walk into. But it was enough for her to grab her wits—not that his deepening voice shook them loose or anything—and look him in the eye. Away from his smile. He had a nice smile; she could admit that. Okay, it was a great smile. But that wasn’t the point!
“No thank you,” she said shortly, managing to find her voice after swallowing the lump of panic rising in her throat. “This…” she gestured to the scene in front of her, “this was nice but…no. No thank you.” Turning to the door, she jumped when she spotted James blocking her path. What the…? A glance over her shoulder showed an empty blanket. Facing him, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and asked, “How did you do that?”
James ignored her question. “Maybe we can go see a movie instead. They’re replaying Kiss and Tell.”
She didn’t know which was worse: his suggestion or her traitorous mind considering it for a second. A fleeting second, it shot out of her brain faster than it came in, but it existed. And that was enough for her to shut it down, banish it away and keep a tighter hold on herself. In fact, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if she needed to hold herself back from doing something she couldn’t take back, something ridiculously stupid. Because she knew what he implied with that suggestion; the switch from his frank sharing of his intentions to a covert suggestion nearly knocked her off kilter. She really needed to get a grip.
“No thank you,” she repeated, firming up the three words. She moved to walk around him when he took a large step to the left, blocking her path. She took a step to her left and he mirrored her, still standing in her way. She allowed a smile through, remembering he did the same when they first met nearly a year ago. Some things changed, including the cut of his long shaggy hair (thankfully!), and some things stayed the same.
“What else do you have to do today?” The roll of his shoulders, the shove of his hands into his pockets, and the relaxed ease as he offered up the question, as if he knew the answer, rankled her.
Shifting her grip, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Stuff.”
He squinted. “What kind of stuff?”
“Important stuff. It’s…” she stretched out the last letter, sounding much like a hissing snake as she quickly thought. “It’s my hair day.”
“Your hair day is usually the third Sunday of the month. It’s only the second.”
Shit. She should have known he’d know that. He was the only other person outside her family who had dedicated hair days and she may have asked his opinion on scalp detox treatments once or twice. “I need the extra work. My locs are dry.”
“I can help.”
Help by touching her hair? Help by erasing any sort of space between them? Help by being close enough for her to spell the warm ‘Cuda man spray clinging to his neck? (They’d changed something in the formula, so he didn’t swell up into a hive monster anymore.) No. Nope. Bad idea. Her eyes darted to the oven nearby, displaying the time, and her pulse thudded at the time. 12:30? Crap, crap crap!
“Again, no thank you. I just want to be alone. Oh, is that the time? I have to go!” Finally, she managed to get around him and made a quick beeline for the door.
James followed her. “Who wants to be alone on Valentine’s Day?”
“I do.” She had to get out. She had to leave now. Good thing they never locked their door, she could make a quick exit. Just had to open the door and make her escape and get to the bus and—shove her face into the fronds of an aloe plant. She lifted her brown eyes, zeroing in on the name stitched into the navy shirt: Busy Bee Florist.
Oh nooooooo.
“What’s up? I gotta delivery for’a James Diamond.” The deliveryman’s strong Brooklyn accent threw Mickey for a loop. Yes, that was the reason she still stood in the doorway, gaping at him, rather than making her escape. She may as well have closed the door in her own face. Escape was futile.
“I’m James Diamond.” Out the corner of her eye, Mickey saw James point to himself. She needed to move, she needed to leave, but weights in her legs kept her rooted to the spot despite the alarm bells going off in her mind.
“Sign ‘ere.” The deliveryman shoved the plant into Mickey’s hands and removed the clipboard from beneath his arm. James quickly scrawled his signature at the bottom of the paper and handed the clipboard back. The deliveryman lifted his cap in a halfhearted gesture grumbled, “Have a bee-utiful day”, and walked away.
Humming, James closed the door, pinching the sleeve of Mickey’s white and navy stripped shirt to tug her out the way. With puckered eyebrows he took the plant out of her hands, turning the cream-colored base side to side, studying the long blades of the plant. “Oooh! What’s this?” Eyes settling on the white card wedged between a few blades, he set the plant down on the dinner table and plucked it. With a twist of his wrist, he turned the card around, eyes scanning the line of text on it.
Mickey took the chance to tiptoe towards the door. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read the short note written on the cardstock. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read it again. And if she moved fast enough, she could be out the door and safe and be back at her apartment cuddled up with her ferret and he’d be none the wiser and she’d be safe.
James’s hoot of excitement dashed her hopes when he raced over to her, grasped her shoulders, and shook her, sending her blue and black locks shooting forward and back. “Do you know what this is?” She didn’t get a chance to get a word out when he continued speaking, “It’s a secret admirer note! I have a secret admirer!” She stumbled away when he let her go, grasping onto the dinner table to keep from falling over as her world tilted and swirled. Blinking a few times, she waited for her eyes to stop rolling and her legs to keep her firmly planted on the ground. Only when she righted herself did she notice the smirk curling on James’s lips and the sparkle shinning in his hazel eyes. “Well, I wonder who the lucky lady is getting a first-class seat on Air Diamond. Destination: love!”
…Huh. Mickey pressed her lips together, straining to keep away the curl of…something she didn’t want to name which fought to appear on her face. Not only ten minutes ago he tried to put the moves on her and now he was up and ready to find some other girl? Then what was the whole point? Something stirred in her stomach, a sour bubbling led to a crackling beneath her skin. A livewire, making her fingers twitch against the table.
“—Okay, let’s go!”
Crap. She hadn’t been listening to him. She looked up at him from behind her curtain of hair. “Go where?”
“My secret admirer is out in the Palm Woods somewhere and you’re gonna help me find her.”
Her breath knocked out of her all at once when his words landed on her. No, no, no! He wasn’t supposed to do that! He wasn’t supposed to try and trail it back to the sender. The note was anonymous for a reason! Wasn’t that the whole point of a secret admirer? The idea stoked her panic and had her uttering in a pitchy squeak, “What!? Me!? Why me?”
“Because you’re a girl and you can send out your girl signals to help me figure out who it is.” He wiggled his fingers in her direction as he spoke.
She stared at him, an eye slowly closing to a squint as his words registered. “…Girls aren’t bats! We don’t have some sort of…girl…echolocation radar!” Make him change his mind, get him off the trail, do something!
“Maybe not. But you can’t say no to this smile.” James pointed at his face, as if she somehow forgot what his smile looked like when his lips pulled back to let the dazzle shine through.
She swore she heard a record scratch sound off in her head. And she stared. She didn’t plan to, she didn’t want to, but it just…happened. The staring. When he smiled at her like that, it was if her brain went to mush and needed time to power down and process that a smile like that was directed at her. And the worst part? He knew how to work it and get her flimsy resolve to crack. It scattered at her feet, useless. “…Godammit.”
If possible, James’s smile shined brighter. The boy could light up all of Vegas with the wattage powering him. Mickey looked away, or else she’d do something she’d regret to wipe away that self-satisfied look in his eye.
The smug jerk.
------------
Okay, okay, don’t panic Mickey, don’t panic! It’s just…a matter of putting everything into perspective. You sent James a plant. Just a plant. People send people plants all the time. No big deal. Okay, so there was a note too, but it was just a note. A nice note. Just something you’ve been thinking. People share thoughts all the time! It’s not a big deal! …But now he’s dragged you around the Palm Woods because he wants to find whoever sent him the plant. Because of course he wasn’t going to let it go, you big time dumbass! You could probably tell him that you sent it and end this…but then he’d probably blow that out of proportion and—
“Okay! Do you remember the plan?” James popped out from behind the line of bushes around the Palm Woods pool, a tree hat sitting comfortably on his head.
Lifting herself up next to him, Mickey spat out a few leaves coating her tongue and brushed away the few sticking to her hair. “Is the hat really necessary?”
“Yes! All of our good plans involve tree hats!” Mickey’s mouth turned to the side. Since when have their plans turned out well? Or could be called good? The boys somehow manage to turn doing nothing into complete chaos and James thinks their plans work? The boy really did float along on a cloud of his own ego. “By the way, I got you one too.” James pulled a hat from seemingly out of nowhere.
Mickey frowned at it. “You know I can’t wear it. Hats don’t fit over my hair.”
“Oh, I thought about that. I got it a size bigger. And!” He flipped it over, pointing at the interior. “I custom ordered it. The inside is lined with satin so it won’t pull on or damage your hair.”
Stunned, it took a second for her to reach out and take the hat, carefully placing it over her hair and, whaddya know, it fit perfectly. “Thanks James,” she said with a soft smile.
His shoulders bounced in a jaunty shrug. “No problem.” Then he reached out, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into his side. A strangled sound rumbled in her chest and a flush darkened her cheeks, the one squished against his pec. Electricity shot down her arm, right beneath his soft grip, but that was nothing to worry about. Just a static shock. “Now remember: you go over to the Jennifers, strike up a conversation, and then I’ll slip in and close the deal.”
“Yeah, but James, this is the seventh girl you’ve tried.” Mickey lifted her hand and started counting on her fingers. “You’ve already called that Annie girl who you thought was a mermaid, you called Heather Fox, you texted Mercedes—”
“How could she not want this”—he gestured wildly to his face—“as one of her potential boyfriends? How could she not pick me? Huh? How?”
“—then there was that Muffy girl who you say tried to kill you—”
“Yes, but that was only when I was a vampire,” James supplied.
Mickey studied his face, trying to find any hint of jest only to come up empty. Anyway! “After that you tried some Penny Lane girl who you say was a spy.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You just tried with Sunblock Girl—”
“Yeah, that still stings,” James mumbled, rubbing at a slightly reddened eye. “She has good aim with that sunscreen.”
“—and then there was that contest winner. Tiffany? Or Jeanette? …Which one did you end up calling anyway?”
James made a face. “I don’t know. Tiffnette?”
Mickey slapped her palm against her face and pulled her features down. This boy. “I’m just saying, you’re zero for seven. Why don’t you quit while you’re behind? Isn’t the secret admirer part supposed to be kept a secret?”
James swung his head around to face her, his bottom lip pulled up into an angry pout. “If I wanted someone to make things make sense, I would’ve brought Logan with me.”
“Logan’s on a double with Carlos.”
“I know!” he all but shouted, eyes blazing, “Don’t remind me! Everyone else gets to be so happy! When’s it gonna be my turn, hmm? Don’t I deserve to be happy too? It’s not like pretty people don’t have problems!” Mickey bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t going to touch that. “And right now, my problem is that I’m not dating a Jennifer. Now get over there and help me.”
“Which one do you want me to ask?”
“Yes!” He pushed at her shoulder and she stumbled sideways, catching her balance before eating it on the cement around the pool. Grumbling, she yanked off her tree hat and tossed it over to James.
Curling and uncurling her fingers, Mickey counted every step she took as she got closer to the Jennifers. They sat around their table by the cabanas as always, drinking identical pink smoothies, scripts held up to their faces. Mickey blew out a breath through her pursed lips. It wasn’t that she and the Jennifers didn’t get along, they were nice…enough. She liked Jennifer 3, sometimes they talked about hair treatments or what skincare products to use for dark marks. But it was hard to get her away from the other Jennifers so their conversations were few.
In unison they arched their brows, lowered their scripts, and removed their large, round sunglasses from their faces. Mickey’s attempt at a smile stalled halfway beneath their perfect, poreless, pristine auras. They sat cast in a golden outline, as if a permanent spotlight illuminated them. And there she stood by comparison, rusted silver, barely. It’s no wonder James insisted it had to be one of them.
“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, shoved her curled hands into her pockets. She rocked back and forth on her heels and used her chin to point towards the bound pages on the table. “New scripts?”
“We have an audition coming up for Savannah Louisiana: normal girl by day, singing spy by night,” Jennifer 1 explained, her lips curling in a pleased smile.
“Yeah, but why are you studying them today? I figured you’d have some sort of date or something. It is Valentine’s Day.”
“We need to give the boys of the Palm Woods time to think they have a chance with us,” Jennifer 2 said. With a sweep of her arm, she motioned to the piles, buckets, and of flowers, teddy bears, and wrapped gifts surrounding them. An easel nearby held looked like a large poster of the three Jennifers but was really, upon closer inspection, made out of M&Ms in varying colors.
Mickey let out a low whistle at the sight of it. Talk about dedication. “…Don’t know how I missed that,” she mumbled. Out the corner of her eye she spotted James removing his tree hat and whipping out a handheld mirror to check his hair. He winked at his reflection and cocked a finger gun. A flash of irritation coursed through her. “So…you have a lot of admirers.”
“Of course we do,” Jennifer 3 said, shoving her sunglasses into her hair. She spoke as if the notion was obvious. Which it probably was for them. They probably got mountains of cards and gifts back in school, being the envy of the hallways. Mickey knew that type well; her sister Sammi was one of them.
“Did you give any out?”
The three girls shared a look and burst out laughing. Mickey tugged at her hair again, fighting off the familiar unsettling pooling in the pit of her stomach at their laughter for asking such a question. “We don’t give out admirer notes. We just get them,” Jennifer 2 corrected, a slight sneer curling her lip and wrinkling her nose. “We have a reputation to uphold. We’re not desperate.”
She ignored the sting of their unintentional dig, spotting James walking towards the Jennifers with an odd pattern to his steps. As if he listened to bouncy disco music only he could hear. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Clearing her throat, Mickey lifted her voice, eyes darting back and forth between the Jennifers and James, “So…you’ve never sent out admirer gifts to anyone? Ever? Not even today?” James continued his approach. Geeze, how could he not hear her? Even the Jennifers caught onto the stilted wave of her questioning.
“No,” Jennifer 3 replied, eyes squinting. “And even if we did we wouldn’t wait until the last minute.”
“Besides, we have dates with the Owens Brothers tonight. They’re taking us to Nobu,” Jennifer 2 added, rolling back her shoulders.
Mickey’s head tilted to the side. “Weren’t they just cast in Savannah Louisiana?”
Jennifer 1 smirked. “Yep.”
“Ladies,” James trilled, sliding into view. Their faces remained unimpressed. “Don’t you look beautiful today. You know I really admire how you get your hair so shiny. I can even see myself in it. And I look good.” Mickey elbowed him in the side when he reached up to fix his hair and hit him with a hard stare. Just get this over with, please! “Right! Yeah, so, anyway, speaking of Valentine’s, I’m going to offer one of you ladies the chance to ride on Air Diamond, non-stop express to Love Island.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the note. Mickey lifted her thumb to her mouth, raking her teeth against the edge, taking great interest in Buddha Bob powering up his hedge clippers. “By the way, thanks for the plant and the note. Maybe we can break out the aloe and pamper each other.” Mickey put her hand up to her face, hiding the way her mouth twisted.
“We didn’t send you a secret admirer note, James,” Jennifer 2 told him in bored tones.
“What?” James’s face immediately fell. “You didn’t?”
“Of course not!” Jennifer 1 said with a scoff.
“You heard her, it’s not them, let’s go!” Mickey heard how shrill her voice had become around her thumb, but she didn’t care. She grasped his arm to move him; he didn’t budge, save for the muscle bulging beneath her hand. She snatched her hand away as if it were on fire, much like her face.
Frowning, James looked over the card again. “Well, if you didn’t, who did?”
Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me! Mickey bit her thumbnail so hard it popped and cracked between her teeth. Jennifer 3’s eyes slid over to her, her eyebrows lifting. Mickey’s eyes widened and she turned her head a couple inches to the left and then to the right. An amused expression passed through Jennifer 3’s face only to be replaced with a mask of indifference in the blink of an eye.
“Do we look like we care?” Jennifer 2 asked. “Now move, you’re blocking the views of the envious girls who wish they were us.” She waved her hand in a shooing gesture, putting her sunglasses back on. Jennifer 1 and Jennifer 3 mimicked her gesture.
“See? They didn’t send it. You’ve tried every girl at the Palm Woods. Now can we go?” Mickey turned to leave, stopping only when James grabbed her by the crook of her elbow.
“Yeah, every girl at the Palm Woods,” James repeated. Lifting his finger, he continued, “We haven’t tried the Palm Woods Park yet.”
The alarm bells returning, clanging louder than before. “I don’t want to go to the park. I want the ice cream that’s waiting for me.”
“I’ll buy you some. Cookie dough’s your favorite, right?”
“Right, but—”
“Do you dare try to stop me on my love quest?” he demanded, pointing a finger in her face. Her eyes crossed trying to keep his finger in focus. Geeze, how was she supposed to answer that and not sound like a jerk? …Then again, that was probably the point. “Let’s go!” She watched James’s retreating back as he marched around the pool, heading for the exit.
Mickey slowly turned to the Jennifer’s. Her eyes flickered across their faces, shoulders sagging. “…Who told you?” she slowly asked.
“Carlos,” they replied in unison, smirking all the while.
Mickey’s head lolled back as she groaned. “Should’ve known.” He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. And it wasn’t that she wanted to tell him in the first place, he wore her down with his questioning when she called to ask, hypothetically, what kind of flowers the guys would want if they were to get them. It was a gamble asking him, she knew, but they were buds and she’d get a straight answer from him regarding James. She took too big a risk and had to tell him something to keep him from talking. Bribing him with four vouchers to whale watch clearly only worked for so long (Aunt Kelly got showered with gifts from potential clients trying to sway her into making an offer all the time).
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jennifer 2 said, “it’s cute that you’re trying to shoot so far out of your league.”
Mickey didn’t have time to address those wounding words; realization landed with a heavy thud, dragging her attention with it: if the Jennifers knew…who else knew?
-------
“—And now, and now, he’s dragged me up and down and all around accosting some poor innocent girls trying to find his secret admirer and I don’t think he’s gonna quit!” Mickey paused her ranting to shove another spoonful of tiramisu into her mouth. She chewed the beignet piece, swallowed, and continued, “See, see, it’s this…this stupid holiday. It makes everyone go crazy. Hallmark just haaad to go and make people read into everything and think that this one day was super important and everyone had to go and choke one each other’s love fumes. What ever happened to people wanting to be nice to other people? I don’t need one day to do that. Okay, maybe I could’ve picked a better day to send the dang plant, but I wasn’t supposed to be there when he got it! And who said Valentine’s Day is all about relationships anyway? It’s for friends too! James is my friend. I, as a friend, was trying to cheer a friend up! You’ve seen how Uncle Gustavo has been on him lately!” Jazz and Kendall stared at Mickey, taking long drags of the sparkling cider bubbling in their glasses. Mickey glared at them. “Are either of you going to say something?”
The two glanced at each other and simultaneously removed the straws from their mouths and leaned forward to set their glasses down on the red and black picnic blanket. Kendall leaned back on his palms, crossing one ankle over the other, and gave her a hard look. Jazz, instead, chuckled and shook her head. “I only have five words for you.” She held up a fist and extended a finger with each word. “I. Told. You. So.”
Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “That’s four words.”
Jazz leaned forward and smacked her open palm against Mickey’s forehead. “Dumbass!” Smiling sweetly beneath Mickey’s glare she added, “That’s five,” and popped a salmon-topped crostini into her mouth.
“Why don’t you just tell James you sent him the plant?” Kendall asked.
“Why do people keep asking me that?” Mickey said through gritted teeth. Because it’s the obvious solution, dummy, her thoughts screamed back at her; she shoved it aside. “You know James better than I do,” she said, jabbing a spoon in his direction. “You know what he’s like. If he’s this rabid just trying to find his secret admirer, he’ll be worse if he found I sent it to him. Because then he’ll want to know why I sent it to him and then I’ll have to say—”
“That you like him?” Jazz offered. She held up her hands when Mickey brandished the spoon in her direction. “I’m just sayin’.”
Mickey dug the spoon back into the glass of tiramisu, the utensil clanged against the side of the glass. It sounded so simple coming out of her mouth but it just…wasn’t. She wasn’t even sure what name to put on her feelings for James. They were positive, mostly. She could admit that. He was funny and fun and sweet and loyal and supportive. But then his ego swelled and all that got eclipsed by his narcissistic, shallow, and self-centered tendencies. Though that wasn’t what made her pay attention to him in the first place, his advances aside.
No, it was that look in his eye when he hit a particularly difficult note with ease. That satisfied smile on his face when he completed a dance sequence with moves so sure it was like he floated on the music. It was the drive powering him through recording sessions, take after take after take, even though he nailed it back on the third because it wasn’t up to his standards and his level of perfection. It was the pride burning through his chest and the passion shining in his smile when he wrote and composed a song, pouring his heart into the process. It was the ease of which he laid out his vulnerabilities and didn’t apologize for it or for his existence.
But he made it complicated. Baseline, she did like James. She liked all the guys of Big Time Rush, even if they came with a hurricane of chaos. But liking James and liking James were two different things and it was much easier to face one than the other. That’s what the aloe plant was for, to say what she couldn’t and didn’t want to face. She could give away any sort of feelings she had for him with the plant and didn’t have to look at it ever again.
Besides, it wasn’t like James was serious with his come-ons. The advances were just to bide his time; she knew that; it was how he worked. He bounced around from girl to girl like a bee searching for pollen. And she was just one flower in a field, a baby’s breath next to a rose. No, this was much easier.
Well, as easy as things could be when she spent all afternoon hovering around girls sitting in the lobby waiting for a thumbs up or a thumbs down, pretending to get candy from the vending machine to scope out potential suspects, and sitting by the elevator with a hockey stick waiting to trip up any guy who could get in the way of James and his “destiny” with guilt rolling a bigger rock in her stomach as time went on.
See, this is why she hated Valentine’s Day.
“And why an aloe plant?” Kendall asked.
Mickey dragged the spoon around the remnants of the empty dessert flute, licked the chocolate ganache off the scoop, and set the glass aside, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. “Because you can cut open an aloe plant and use the extract to heal scrapes, treat burns, and for basic skin care. Plus, if you want, you can add it to your smoothies for an extra boost of Vitamin C or for an aid in digestive health,” Mickey replied.
“So, it’s perfect for James.” Kendall nodded. “You must really like him.” Kendall laughed when Mickey swatted at him.
“Thanks for keeping it a secret, sis,” Mickey said, turning to Jazz.
“Hey, I don’t keep secrets from Kendall. Especially not about this,” Jazz said.
“Why is this the exception?”
Jazz smirked. “Because this is fun for me.” She took another long sip of cider, turning her eyes skywards. Mickey made a mental note to look into getting a rubber snake for their next birthday. See how Jazz liked that bit of fun. When Jazz reached for the plate holding the pie piece, Mickey snatched it away from her. “Dude,” Jazz uttered.
“No pie for you!” Mickey made a show of stabbing the pie piece with a fork and shoving the broken section off in her mouth. Dang, she was good. She mentally patted herself on the back for having the foresight to leave an entire other pie in the fridge back at Aunt Kelly’s apartment.
“You can share mine,” Kendall said, offering Jazz his plate.
“Don’t be mad at me because you’re too much of a chicken shit to tell James,” Jazz said, sticking out her tongue.
Mickey scoffed. “Easy for you to say! You and Kendall have been dating basically since you met each other!” The thing was, at the time, Jazz and Kendall didn’t realize they were dating. But what else could it be called when they spent nearly every day for the past year texting, facetiming, and emailing each other when they were apart and then going to the movies, going skateboarding, scheming, playing guitar at the recording studio, and going for walks when they were together? If you wanted one, you’d find the other. By the time they jointly announced they were dating, it was more of the sake of convenience than a need. None of them—Mickey, her sisters, and the rest of the boys of Big Time Rush—batted an eyelash about it. As far as they could see, it was inevitable.
“Look, James is my bud,” Kendall said, “And I want him to be happy. And I think you two overdramatic weirdos could be happy together.”
Mickey scoffed, not bothering to hide the offense on her face. “I’m not overdramatic.”
Kendall’s eyebrows rose. “Oh really?” He reached out and smacked the pie plate out of her hands.
“My pie!” Mickey screeched, watching in dismay as it landed upside-down on the grass. “You monster!” Kendall pressed his lips together, giving her a pointed stare with his green eyes. “There is no such thing as being overdramatic about food,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Mickey, why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?” Jazz asked.
Mickey pulled at a few blades of grass, twisting her mouth to the side. Sheesh, where could she start with that?
“Well, it’s not Katie,” James announced, dropping onto the blanket next to Mickey. Three pairs of eyes swiveled in his direction as he rocked from side to side, grasping two small cups of ice cream. “She even laughed in my face, which was kind of rude.” Speaking out the side of his mouth, in a stage whisper, he added, “I think she’s in denial.” With a little laugh, he shrugged his shoulders and held out a cup for Mickey.
“No luck then?” Kendall asked. Mickey squinted at him. He stared back innocently. She didn’t buy it. He was a planner for a reason. What was he up to? The nudge of James’s elbow to her side broke her stare. She accepted the cup with a fleeting smile and dug into the ice cream for a large chunk of cookie dough near the surface.
“No. She’s really hiding. And I don’t get why. I mean why spend the day alone when you could spend the day with this?” Using his spoon, James gestured to his body, from crossed legs, up his torso, and in circles around his face. His head jerked back in a recoil as a bit of ice cream flew off the spoon and landed brushing ice cream against his nose. Mickey chuckled at the sight, reaching out to brush it off his nose. James in turn flashed an appreciative smile. She caught Jazz’s eye and dropped her hand to her lap.
“Well, it can’t be hard to trace the delivery back to the sender,” Kendall said nonchalantly.
A spike of fear shot down her spine. What? Mickey shoved her spoon too far in her mouth, scraping the back of her throat. A series of coughs made her double over, reddening her face, bringing tears to her eyes. Jazz and Kendall, the traitorous traitors, merely stared at her. If Mickey looked hard enough, she’d be able to see identical devil horns on their heads. James at least had the decency to rub circles between her shoulder blades. Not that his attention could be delayed from his love quest for too long.
“Keep talking,” James said.
“No, James, we should…we should get going,” Mickey said, pushing his arm. Her voice now took on a slight rasp. “We’re interrupting their date.”
“I mean call the place,” Kendall hurried, a sparkle in his eye. “Ask for the person who delivered the flowers and get a name from them.”
“Or at least get the name of the person who paid for it,” Jazz added.
“Isn’t there some sort of privacy in place?” Mickey asked, silently sending them mental waves to shut up! “You know, for nosy busybodies?”
“Not if they have a kid who just so happens to like Big Time Rush and wouldn’t mind getting free tickets to our next concert,” Kendall said with a simple shrug of his shoulders.
“Jazz, your boyfriend’s trying to sell his soul,” Mickey tattled, jabbing her finger in Kendall’s direction.
Jazz made a meh sound. “As long as the outside of him stays the same I don’t think I’d notice a difference.”
“Nice,” Kendall muttered. His brief frown turned into a smile when Jazz leaned over and kissed his cheek.
James dug into his pocket, removing his phone with bright eyes. Mickey’s eyes darted around, searching for any sort of escape from the gnawing hole in her stomach. Do something, do something, do something! Lunging forward, Mickey grabbed James’s phone, drew back her arm, and threw it. Silence settled over the group like a thick, heavy, wool blanket. Calmly, Mickey scooped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Only when she swallowed did she look at their bewildered expressions and said, “Spasm. Sorry.” Then she sat up straight. “Oh look! There’s Jo!” Internally she cringed at foisting James off onto one of her friends but, well, desperate times, desperate measures. He scurried away in the blink of an eye and Mickey repeatedly hit her forehead with her fist.
“You know what I think?” Jazz asked.
“That I’m in Hell?” Mickey replied, her dull words directed down towards her lap.
Jazz snorted. “No, but you deserve however this ends.”
Mickey peeked up at them from beneath her lashes. “How’s the air up on your high horse?”
Kendall and Jazz grinned. “Sweet.”
--------
“I’m not your secret admirer,” Lucy said the minute she opened her apartment door. Looking up at James, she crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow, effectively killing the expectant smile on his face in one shot.
“How’d you know that’s what I was gonna ask you?” he asked.
Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “Because it’s all over the Palm Woods that you’re asking every girl if they’re your secret admirer. Honestly, I don’t blame them for keeping it a secret. You’re getting a little intense.” Lucy was going to get a fruit basket, Mickey decided. The swell of pride growing within her for having such a sensible friend ebbed away as fast as it came when Lucy’s eyes shifted over to her. “And why’re you helping him?” Lucy continued, pointing a finger in James’s direction.
“…I have girl radar or something,” Mickey replied, cringing at the rasp still affixed to her words. It was a lot easier to verbalize that than her spine being as soft as Jell-O.
Lucy blinked and shook her head. “Okay, even if that were a thing, that doesn’t make sense.”
“You know I don’t make sense,” James said. “Besides, love doesn’t have to make sense. I just want a Valentine. Why is that so bad?”
“You can’t coerce people into being what you want just because you want it,” Lucy said.
“…If I knew what that word meant I’d say ‘yes I can’!”
“You realize you’re encouraging this right?” Lucy asked Mickey.
She nearly laughed aloud. Maybe Lucy was right on paper but the lengths she’d gone through the whole day would say otherwise. Aside from throwing his phone any time he got it out, she nearly had to tackle James to keep him away from Logan, Camille, Carlos, and Stephanie when they crossed paths in the lobby (of which she then had to dodge another make-out offer as she got off him), she got a nasty shock to her foot kicking out the plug to the computers, and nearly blew herself into the pool with Bhudda Bob’s industrial leaf blower in her attempts to blow James away from Sandy and Mandy Simms (honestly that was for his own good. He wasn’t going to address them by the right names, and she knows firsthand how annoying that was).
Instead, Mickey mumbled. “Trust me, his one-track mind doesn’t need any of my help,”
“Yeah!” James nodded.
“So, you don’t find it odd you haven’t had any luck finding this girl?” Lucy asked. “Assuming it’s a girl.”
“It’s a girl!” James insisted, his voice tightening.
“Fine.” Lucy leaned against the doorway, eyes shifting between the two. “Still. It has to be someone around here, right?”
“Lucy,” Mickey all but growled through clenched teeth.
Lucy ignored her. “I don’t know why they’d want to be shy about it. I mean, you are James Diamond of Big Time Rush, after all.” Out the corner of her eye Mickey spotted James standing up straighter, propped up by her words. “Then again, girls know not to step on another girl’s territory…”
Mickey wanted her fruit basket back.
“What do you mean?” James asked.
“I mean you’ve been hanging out with Mickey all day, right? Girls might think she’s called dibs on you. Give them more of a reason to stay anonymous.” Mickey strained hard to keep her head facing forward, the expression on her face neutral beneath James’s penetrating gaze. She tucked her shakings hands into the crooks of her arms and evened out her breathing. And Lucy, all the while, held the tight-lipped smile of someone guarding a laugh. Waving her hand, Lucy stood straight, “But I could be wrong. What do I know? I don’t have a Valentine”—James moved to open his mouth—“not that I’m looking for one! You’re already taken.”
“There’s plenty of me to go around,” James insisted.
“I’m not into sharing.” Snickering, Lucy grasped her door and moved to close it. “Well, have fun on your little date.”
Mickey’s relieved sigh of “Thanks” quickly shifted over to her indignant shout of, “Wait, no! This isn’t a date!” Her words bounced harmlessly off Lucy’s closed door.
“Whatever!” Lucy called from the other side.
Pulling her lips inwards, Mickey slowly turned, steeling herself for…something. A suggestive comment, a flirty smile, swagger pouring out of his, well, pores. Not…this. The rounding of his shoulders, balancing an invisible weight, the shadow blanketing the sparkle in his eyes, the sharp rise and fall of his chest rather than the steady sureness and puffed preening. Releasing her lips, they fell into a soft frown. “James?” She reached out, her fingers grazing his arm. His head snapped up, eyes settling on her face, and with a blink of his (unfairly!) long lashes, the light returned to his eyes.
“Hey, no, I’m good. Let’s take a break. I'm getting hungry.”
She didn’t bother to point out he’d already eaten ice cream, because eating sounded like a good idea. She needed food. She needed to stop the gnawing in her stomach in ways only food could satiate. The hole opened, allowing more room for guilt and shame around the pie and tiramisu and ice cream she’d already consumed. Better to eat something else before the black hole ate her. At least that way, if she was full, there was no room for anything else.
-------
It wasn’t that she didn’t want the sandwich James prepared. He even remembered not to put mayonnaise on hers; not even the guys at Subway could manage that. (Okay, so she kind of mumbled when she had to place orders so it was easy to confuse ‘tomato’ for ‘mayo’ and she could have corrected them but that was more trouble than it was worth.) Despite the clawing deep in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t make herself eat, not with the waves of despair rolling off James, threatening to drown her. He kept his smile, but it was tight lipped, half-blown, wrong.
He leaned against the refrigerator, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, shoulders pressing against the glass, holding his weight up, taking steady sips from a juice box. One arm wrapped tight around his torso, as if trying to hug himself.
Mickey picked at the sandwich, tearing little bits of bread and turkey breast and lettuce only to smoosh it into little spheres, littering her plate. James left his untouched.
“Is there something wrong with me?” James had lifted his mouth from the straw; the red from the juice darkened them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, he set the juice box down. “I mean, there can’t be much wrong with me, right?”
“Uhhhh….” Mickey flicked a few of the sandwich spheres around her plate.
“I just don’t get it,” James continued as if she didn’t say anything, as if she weren’t in the room. “Why is it so easy for everyone else? I mean, Kendall. Right? We move here and right away Kendall gets Jo. And then Logan gets Camille…” He held his hand in the air and waved it side to side. “Kind of. And then Carlos has his thing with Stephanie. And then Kendall and Jo break up. But then we meet you guys and, well, you know Kendall and Jazz.” James drummed his fingers against the cardboard on the juice box. “…Kendall has it all. You know? The family, the friends, the girl.” Mickey zeroed in on that one word. Girl. Not girls. “And he didn’t even try for it. Not really. It falls into his lap.” The gnawing in her stomach grew though she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything, no matter how hard it screamed for food. A lump rose in her throat; she curled her trembling fingers into her palms. “Yeah, maybe I’ve been with girls. But lately I see Logan and Carlos and Kendall and they’re with girls. And I want that, I guess. And then this plant came…” Setting aside the juice box, he shifted and leaned forward, resting his elbows against the breakfast bar Mickey sat at, peering at the aloe plant. The minute he reentered 2J he picked it up and turned it around and around in his hands, as if searching for some sort of hidden compartment on it and discarded it as if it had personally offended him. Now he stared at it so hard she swore it’d eventually catch fire. “I thought maybe this was my chance for…something. I mean, my parents didn’t care much about spending time with me until I got out here. And even then, I don’t see my mom much. She doesn’t ask about all this.” He spun his finger in the air, encircling the room. His cheeks squished when he propped them up on his fists. Mickey’s leg bounced against the footrest of the bar stool. And even as her body tensed, begging her to run, she sat, enthralled, in a sick game of chicken. “Maybe it was a joke. Or I’m the joke, for thinking…” Silence ticked by, each pulse pounding Mickey over the head: say something do it, do it now, talk!
Her lips trembled, whether from the onslaught of his words, the ease and content of laying himself bare without a second thought, or the pressure rising within her chest. Lowering her head, she dug her fingers into her hair, curling them around the shafts, tugging hard. The pain was a brief relief, sharp and pointed; something to focus on than her whirling thoughts. Except for one, niggling at the back of her mind, roaring louder until she pinpointed Jazz’s voice:
Why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?
It wasn’t that. It was the after. What happens afterwards, what he would do, could do, with the feelings she gave for him on a platter. And she hated it, the not knowing, not having control after the words left her mouth, having to just stand there and open up her chest and hope and pray he’d be delicate.
You don’t know anything about me, she’d always say, a perfect deflection to his inquiries on her constant rebuffs. Shorthand for what she really wanted to say: you don’t care. But he did, he proved it all day: he knew her hair schedule, he knew her hair was important enough to her to get her a cap she could wear, he knew her favorite ice cream choice, he knew her sandwich preferences, he put aside his goal to check on her well-being, he prepared her favorite snacks when he knew she’d be alone. Even if it came with a string attached, he thought about it, thought about her. She rejected it but it didn’t stop him from laying it all out there, from going after what he wanted, from trying again and again and again, diving in with both feet without apologizing for it, without apologizing for feeling and being.
That’s truly why she hated the occasion, Valentine’s Day, because it gave everyone else the courage to be raw, be real, and she couldn’t manage it.
But as she sat there, simmering in James’s admission, wondering how someone like him could think he was a joke for allowing himself to be hopeful, she still admired him. How could she not? He was James Diamond, unapologetically.
“James.” She heard the shake in her voice and made herself remain steady, even as the bounce in her leg increased. He looked at her, face so open. Her heart sighed. “…I sent the plant.”
He didn’t react right away, just stared at her, hazel eyes meeting russet. She clasped her hands, bringing them up to her mouth, biting down on both thumb nails. He blinked, sucked in a breath, and slowly leaned back until he stood tall.
“…You’re my secret admirer.”
Mickey leaned back, dropping her hands into her lap, skin lightening beneath her hard grip. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
She let out a little laugh, sheepish and incredulous combined. Because she was a jerk? Because she was an idiot. Because she was scared. All of the above? “Because I was the only person you didn’t ask, dummy!”
James blinked. “Oh.” He looked at the plant, at her, back at the plant, and got the note out of his pocket. His thumbs smoothed out the creased and bent cardstock and then held it out to her. She took it and put it aside; she didn’t need to read it. She had the words memorized; she’d agonized over what to add for days until she came up with the finished product. She didn’t care about that, she cared about now, what he would do now. As his lips parted, ready to speak again, she forced herself to stay put. All instincts told her to run, to hide, she still had time to save herself. She stayed still. “I guess…I didn’t think to ask. I mean, I never thought you’d…admire me.” He said the last part slowly, as if testing the weight of the words on his tongue.
Her shoulders sagged with her accompanying sigh. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. She tugged on the ends of her hair, pulling from mid-length down to the ends, over and over, avoiding his eyes. “James…I-I admire a lot about you. I don’t know how people can’t. I mean you…you have this drive that I’ve never seen in anyone before. And you have so much passion behind it. Even with Gustavo being hard on you lately, you still come back the next day ready to work with this…this fire. I’ve seen you go through so much and the whole time you’re…you’re you. You’re so comfortable being yourself, wholly, fully, and you don’t feel the need to apologize for it. I wish I was like that sometimes.”
“Oh.” He sure liked that word.
Head tilted downwards, she still stroked her hair, but peeked up at him. His eyes had widened and something in his face stilled. Did she say something wrong? God, this was why she didn’t do things like this, didn’t put herself out there. Crap, she messed everything up! The paralyzing hold on her eased, allowing a painful stab to hit her right in chest. She swiveled her hips to the side, turning the stool top, ready to jump down.
“Hold on.” James reached out, hand resting on her shoulder. She stopped, held her breath, and watched with crinkled brows when he walked stiffly to the bathroom and closed the door. What the…? Her eyebrows bunched even further at the flurry of movement on the other side of the door. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see him flailing. The door swung open and James walked back out calmly, cheeks reddened.
Her eyes ping-ponged between him and the bathroom. She was almost afraid to ask. “Did…did you just do a happy dance?”
“What? Me? No! Of course not!” James scoffed, waving his hand in the air, failing at keeping the smile off his flushed face. “Can I give you your gift now?” His words collided in a rushed slur.
She blinked, jarred from the conversation whiplash. Oh. Oh. She thought…And to be sure she glanced over her shoulder where the indoor picnic had been left. “Was that not…?”
“No. I got you something else.” His long fingers gripped the countertop; he practically vibrated.
“Ok…ay.” This…was not what was supposed to happen. Was it?
James scurried off to the bedrooms and Mickey prepared herself for the usual gifts she received on such occasion, a card or oven mitts or an apron with Mickey Mouse decorated all over it because, well, it was obvious. Her name and her hobby in the same, how original! But she’d mastered the pleased smile years ago. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the gifts, clearly the thought was behind it and that’s what counted, but sometimes she wished people didn’t go for something so easy.
When James came back carrying…some white structure, which at first glanced looked like a miniature shelf, she didn’t know what to do with her face. She bet she looked half constipated and half bewildered. How attractive!
“Um…”
“It’s an indoor herb garden,” he supplied, filling in the large blank in her head. She gaped, heart thudding a steady rhythm against her ribcage. “You always said you were upset Kelly’s apartment didn’t have a place for you to grow stuff. Now you can. Look!” He turned the box around and pointed to a list in small print. “It comes with spices too. It has basil, parsley, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and mint.”
A low buzzing sounded in her ears. It took her time to place it, that thrumming content. But when she did it amplified, an electric current running through her, so palpable that when their fingers brushed as she accepted the box, sparks popped at her fingertips. “Thank you.” It was soft and tender; all she could manage while trying to contain herself.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”
Like wasn’t the right word but she wasn’t ready for that, nowhere near it. Hugging the box to her chest, she chanced a glance at him. “What happens now?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out so suddenly, but she had to know. Needed to know. “I’ve never…I mean, this thing…” Words failed her. Instead, she dragged a finger in the space between them.
Luckily, James caught on. “Neither have I,” he admitted. “But I want to try. I like you.”
A buzz thrummed within her at his directness. “I don’t get why considering I’ve been lying to you all day.” In fact, he was strangely…calm about it. Why wasn’t he angry with her?
“Well, yeah, that part kind of stinks,” he admitted, head bobbing from side to side, “but, the way I choose to look at it, you also went along with me all day when you could have left. Figured you have to like me a lot to go through all that trouble.” He paused and then his eyes widened.
Her pulse spiked. “What?”
“I just realized: this whole time, you were trying to keep people away because you want me all to yourself!” The swagger came back when he reached out tapped the tip of her nose; she almost missed it. “Not that I blame you.” Pointing at himself he added, “I wouldn’t want to give this away either.”
James’s beaming smile returned, eyes sparkling as if diamonds nestled within.
A wild sensation hit her at the sight of it: a sort of breathless elation, like climbing to the top of a mountain, being caressed by gentle winds only to sink into the crackling livewire of being so alive.
Mickey’s mouth opened and closed a few times, attempting to make words. Defeated, she pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes, her lips curling up into an unrestrained smile.
--------
“So?”
Mickey lifted her head from the sink; droplets of water rolled down her cheeks and curled beneath her chin. She dapped at her face with the hand towel nearby, set it aside, and turned to see Jazz leaning in the bathroom doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “So what?” she asked.
“You know what.” Her grin grew. “How did things with you and James end up? You didn’t say anything when Kendall and I came back to the apartment and you didn’t say anything on the bus ride back here. I want details. Spill.”
Mickey’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as she mulled it over. Jazz crossed her arms over her Richmond Braves pajama shirt. Mickey’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, stopping only when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her lounge pants. Holding up a finger, she removed it only to experience a flutter in her stomach at the sight of James’s name on her screen next to the blinking text icon. With a swipe of her thumb, she opened the text.
James: See you at the studio tomorrow!
Mickey: I’ll be the chick with the bass behind ya
“I’ll tell you after Kelly gets back,” Mickey said. At Jazz’s annoyed sigh she added, “Look, I don’t want to tell the story three times.” Reaching over, she flipped off the light to the bathroom and brushed past her, running to jump on her bed. Jazz landed next to her a second later, cuddling a large stuffed teddy bear to her chest. On the other side of the room Sammi and Mel crowded onto Sammi’s bed. Sammi’s fingers deftly twisted through the braids in Mel’s hair, adding new length with the fresh purple extensions. Mel carefully lifted a forkful of strawberry rhubarb pie to her mouth, balancing the plate on her knee. “Besides, I want to know who her super-secret date was.”
“It’s Gustavo. We all know it was Gustavo,” Jazz insisted.
“Yeah right,” Sammi said with a shake of her head; her new clover earrings shook with each turn of her head. “That’ll never happen.”
“It could!”
Mel grabbed a pillow off Sammi’s bed and threw it at Jazz, nailing her in the face. Beneath their laughter, Mickey snuck a look at her phone again. James had texted twice, one with a smiley face and another with a video attachment. She tapped her thumb against the screen. The video pulled up, filling the screen, and in seconds she watched a mirror shot of him dancing and celebrating in the bathroom.
She grinned.
The smug jerk.
#james diamond#mickey mason#mickames#big time rush#big time rush fanfic#big time rush fic#kendall knight#jazz mason#i have no idea how this show went on for four seasons and never did a valentine's day episode#i'm here to fix that to a degree#also james gets some depth because the show didn't want him to be deeper than a puddle and i need to fix that too#big time admirer#my writings#angst tw#social anxiety tw#disordered eating tw#envy tw#self loathing tw
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Hope Springs Eternal Part 1.
I shivered
palpably in response to the stimulus of this auspicious winter morning as though I were a nervous acolyte on his first day of probation.
It was that benchmark event called my Birthday.
Like Christmas and Easter they have this annular ring in every sense.
Dates and their import. I was raised to have the healthiest respect for them.
A rendezvous of another kind awaited me later in the day that was seasonal in another sense.
But that just added a certain spring to my step.
Entering my eight decade on earth I dragged that motley crew of bones about me.
Like a hod carrier carting clusters of smokeless polish coal for some imperious client.
But the mind has immense powers waiting to be tapped.
A mineral rich load, a vein of resources with targeted thoughts that were the match for any prescription medicine.
Age is but a number and they can be sung in harmony with one’s universe or jarringly and at odds.
I’m a late in life poet with lines very gingerly crafted at this point in time.
My aunt Virginia who raised me when my mother died started the revolution in my thinking.
“Your mind should be a diary.
Always take note of what’s happening around you and when it happened.
Time, dates, everything.
It always comes in useful.”
She said in that nuanced tonic sol fa accent of hers.
Virginia instilled in me this most functional regard for which I am eternally grateful.
Her words about dates and time echoed continually through the recesses of mind to my ultimate benefit.
I had the required notepad and pen at hand to record anything I could sculpt into a creative ode.
As of yet
a title eluded me but maybe something lustrous, radiant romantic would be apt.
Quite a lot has been composed already much to my surprise.
Virginia’s advice and the embryonic epic planted fertile shoots in my head as I entered the kitchen.
I called it my domain.
Structured in an algebraic fashion with proximity dovetailing elegance it resembled a gallery.
The sink and shrouded tap heads my first port of call.
Stooping over archly I filled a gleaming white plastic jug kettle for that morale boosting first cup of tea.
As I sipped my tea the insights Virginia kindly bequeathed started flooding back.
Those condensed pearls of wisdom regarding time and it’s ambience.
Optimism and cheer were her other passions.
As well as paying attention.
“Focus on your environment. There is joy in abundance.” Virginia opined.
“A treasure trove awaits for those who concentrate.” She said.
“Where there is joy there’s hope.
Time and hope are intertwined.”
Never losing a chance to stress matters time-related.
Typical Virginia logic.
I’m taking it more seriously now as my respect for that statute of limitations called life expectancy approaches.
This lady’s pointers were manfully ingested as my tea stained cup wobbled in my right hand with it's rivulet of veins.
The tea leaves scattered wildly in that microcosm of a drinking vessel had a fleeting fascination for me.
But as I scanned my surroundings with the eye of a keyhole surgeon I couldn't help but notice something else.
The kaleidoscope of colour filling the french panel window in front of the kitchen sink.
Window drabness red carded with the zeal of a strict umpire dismissing an offending player.
My intuition told me to brace myself for events both surprising and anticipated .
This afternoon’s engagement is to the forefront of my mind and for good reason.
Think I’ll leave the cell phone behind.
Or did I hear it go off?
My device was of the more crowded cumbersome type with stubborn square buttons that even the more dexterous hand would find difficult to navigate.
The fingers slipped involuntarily like I sometimes did on those treacherous black ice patches.
“It’ll wait. Can’t really be that important.” I said to myself.
It was one of those phones that emitted this discordant buzz when some arrant nuisance rings at the most inopportune time which is often.
“No … face the morning and it’s canvas of brittle prospect.” Speaking with eloquent pride to myself, Hamilton Lake.
Walking outside on this my 78th birthday could be seen as an obstacle course.
I've always had a thing about posture.
The feet must be properly positioned and ready for anything unexpected.
The steps from my house could be awkward and angular with hidden crevices.
Those rugged pockmarks gouged out by the chisel of that tyrant called the elements.
The inherent beauty of garden plants, on the other hand,
purged whatever sluggishness there was in my frame.
Their spectral tint and gravity defying droop gave my eyes an optic fillip.
Green border shrubs and yellow rose petals bore a magic that defied description.
Albeit with telltale winter stains.
But the mindfulness of gait and knowing that slippage could be fatal moderated my enthusiasm about my settings.
Onto the yard and then the slope towards town with a propensity for the occasional wobble notwithstanding.
A downward denouement laced with grit and optimism.
The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered with tufts of flickering grass cavorting about in a light south east breeze.
Haywire brambles whose overlapping tentacles were embedded in every mound or patch.
Star shaped brown leaves as veiled cover for those sharp spines sticking out.
The bane of every bulging blood vessel.
An ice clad descent that can either capsize or upend even the most determined stride.
Ice that most deceptive gloss that far too easily masks it’s latent perils.
Irrespective I continued unabashed.
The heart, portent of fragility, bruising barometer of one’s twilight moment can be an ally.
A motivator of noble human impulse.
My rainbow tipped walking stick was my elder compass.
A bearing locator for crazy paving pavement slabs.
Those structures fractured by peculiarities of sudden temperature with their plummets and summits!
But focus though impaired was motivated by a stoic forbearance imbued with fire in the soul.
Virginia’s velvet toned voice enjoined on us at home to watch the clouds.
The wispy contours, greyed over forms, wooly frills and outlines drifting overhead.
She also warned of their penchant for unleashing torrents which could spoil the daily strolls of even the most ernest of ramblers.
Today the clouds weaved their way across that azure blue path called the sky.
Curiously enough the self same clouds added to their repertoire by the graceful skirting of rooftops and faraway rock formations on the outskirts of town.
“Clouds are a heavenly canvas. A floating exhibit of the firmament.
They inspire poets, works of art.” Virginia said.
They were doing just that in my case with aplomb.
The planned mysterious link up was never lost sight of amid Virginia’s majestic musings.
“Use your imagination or your imagination will use you. The borders between make belief and the real world must always be maintained.
Imaginings of every kind can be triggered by just about anything familiar.
They can assume a life of their own.”
Wonderful counsel from a wonderful woman.
Virginia, however, unlike some philosophers had a marvelous sense of humor but abhorred the canned, corny variety.
Although such humor couldn't always be avoided I was mindful of her sensitivity on the subject.
Meticulously taking out that pad again I scribbled a few more lines.
It’s beginning to fill up.
The only thing that remains is to have someone to dedicate it to.
The human eye, a person’s best camera turned to the leach like ivy carpet which clung with tenacity to the grey grained stone wall narrowly to my right.
Preserving their corporeal integrity and playing their part while going largely unobserved.
Fir trees, enclosed by pavement railings and gardens had an overwhelming stillness about them.
An unyielding rooted presence.
They too are age defiant when cultivated and getting the right supports.
These trees act as filters for the dust, smoke and fumed manifestations of the modern manufacturer.
Urban heat island effect offset and mitigated.
All these details forensically noted.
A sudden wakening ensued.
“Hi there, Hamilton. Lovely morning for a stroll.”
My inner space rightly interrupted for a different reality.
“Maybe we’ll meet later at one of your favourite spots or a coffee shop.”
Local teens, Sonia and Winfred with whom I regularly crossed paths and swopped pleasantries of a deeper heartfelt kind.
They alighted from their bicycles
“It’s your birthday today isn’t it?
You’d put people half your age and mine to shame.” The young lady Sonia said.
Winfred her boyfriend agreed.
“Such generosity I rarely encountered from my own group.” I thought to myself.
Sonia, a vibrant vivacious youth whose tactful airborne words shone as brightly as her arched angelic face.
Winfred, her boyfriend had a slightly bulging chin and matted haired that looked as if it had been constantly drenched.
His was a handsomeness harrowed out by high jinx and crack of dawn capers.
After a friendly departure this couple dashed off with a daring and delight so dirigere of the young.
As well as the young at heart.
Photograph and short story by mantrabay copyright protected.
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Gatekeepers of The Underground
Joss & Jay: Year 1
The Underground; 0012
On the hot pursuit of the night’s featured felons, the pair of Joss and Jay catch themselves in a long abandoned tunnel of Idle City’s subway station.
Well, Joss did.
“Joss, come on. There’s a reason no one stays on this side.” Jay cries from atop of the subway entrance.
Fists firmly at his side and eyes wide behind his domino mask. He watches his elder disappear into the grip of darkness, punctuated by the soft click of her footsteps.
Jay jerks his head left to right, quickly surveying the stillness of the dormant street. In a huff he tramps down the stairwell to his partner.
This is bad this is bad this is bad.
“Little buddy, if you’re scared you can take the apartment keys and head home. My Friday night plans include catching Illicit drug dealers.” Joss nonchalantly answers, shining her flashlight down the far reaches of the decrepit passage way.
Clutching Joss’ sleeve, Jay produces his own torch. “You shouldn’t be down here either. The gatekeepers guard these tunnels. They turn into copies of you and then disappear to another plane. Sometimes they come after you!”
Pressing on, Joss clears the cobwebs in her view. Minding the craters and cracks along the path.“And you heard this superstition from?” She has known the boy since he was an infant, well aware of him to be rational for his age so...
“Ms. Demko down at the coffee shop.”, Jay matter-of-factly answers. Now taking the woman’s hand, he falls in-step with her.
“Oh, geez. Figures she’d spin tall tales to a child.”Joss mumbles, rolling her eyes in annoyance.
“-Listen, the reason no one comes on this side is because the floods decades ago. All it left was wrecked tracks and a rancid-as-hell smell. Bad business area, good escape route.” Joss’ voice echos off of the walls as she tries to reassure her ward.
“Yeah, and you think that’ll stop half of the crooks in this city? Plus it’s creepy down here.”
“You didn’t have to come, y’know.”
“I’m not gonna leave you alone... ‘specially after how busted you came back last caper.”, Jay mutters. In his mind, Joss was a lot of things: selfless, brave, and caring... but also wildly reckless and strong-headed. He wasn’t witnessing that again.
Stamping through the puddles the two journey deeper into the winding subway. The air growing chiller as they progressed, Joss discovers two figures outlined by her light, about thirty feet in front of them. Her person-of-interest making the sale, she thinks.
“Domieco! Hey what’s the deal, brother?! I thought you said you were ditching the snow?!” Joss calls out the the silhouettes, breath visible in the fog.
No reply returns. Both parties motionless, like each is studying the other. The atmosphere turns heavy.
Suddenly, the unknown frames rush further down the corridors without warning.
“Come on, man. Just talk to me-.” Scuffing the ground, chases after in a huff. “-Jay, stay on my tail, I think we’re coming up on the Shoe Street exit.”
Boots now throughly soaked, Joss and Jay’s pursuit ends around the bend the corner. The shadows no where to be found.
“Wha-where’d they go?” Jay panting for breath, he focuses his beam center ahead of him.
Equally out of breath, Joss combs a hand through her russet shoulder-length hair. “Dang it! I don’t know. Maybe they slipped through a crack in the wall. The Underground likes those.”
Joss removes her mask to wipe the soot out of her eyes, “Let’s just get out to the next street. Maybe I’ll catch him around.”, she says, a melancholy defeat in her voice. Once again donning her mask, she beckons Jay along.
Trekking closer to the exit, the strange musk returns. Joss could feel something lurking around her. An unexplainable pressure. Regardless, she kept her solid resolve and eyes steadily ahead.
oss..
sss...
Jocelyn
Faintly hearing her name in the damp air Joss whips her head around, scanning the devoid area then settling on Jay. “Yo what’s up, bud?”
“I didn’t say anything.” Jay remarks, stuffing his right hand further into his trench coat pocket.
Leaving her a bit spooked, she pulls the child closer, giving her surroundings another cautious look. She was letting her emotions and the kid’s stories get to her head. She decides to pick up their pace to the exit.
“What is it?” Jay asks, noticing the vigor her steps.
“Nothing... I just want to get out of here. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one patrol.”
Nearing the exit, the pair can see the steps leading to the next street, in shambles like the rest of the underpass. The older woman urges Jay up the stairs and he hastily obligates. Following suit, she gives one last glance into the void of the staircase, Joss shakes her head.
The duo find a cafe’s outdoor area still displayed, and promptly crash in the cushioned chairs. They sit in tired silence for a while, collecting their emotions and wits. The night is calm, no stirring to be had.
After a few minutes the boy perks up, “You really weren’t scared?”
If she were to be honest, it wasn’t about putting any two-bit drug dealer in jail. Sure, she’d put away violent people who were too dangerous to be left perusing the streets. But this was about supporting someone into a better life. Helping a friend, she thought.
“No. I’m disappointed, though. Domieco promised me he was done bartering drugs. So much for a new leaf.”, Joss scoffs.
“I know. But we just do the best we can. Even if the others don’t meet us half way.” Jay gently expresses, reaching his hand across the table to grasp his mentor’s.
Sighing, she gives her ally’s hand a little squeeze. “Are you alright, though? I’m sorry I dragged you down there.”
“Yeah yeah, I’ll be okay. But we’re sleeping with all the lights on for a while.” Jay retorts, doling out a knowing look to Joss.
“Heh. Right, right.”
Remaining in their spots for a bit longer before a passing vehicle catches their eye. Not so much the car as the person behind the wheel. Closely observing them, the vigilante’s eyes shoot open with fury. Abruptly rising from her chair, Joss runs after it.
“Hey!” Joss roars, bolting in front of the black SUV crossing the intersection. The car screeches to a halt, only to have the livid woman strike it with a loud thud.
Throwing open the driver door, a lanky bearded man, dressed in a simple black and white suit approaches her.
“What the hell are you doing-?!”, Joss continues her rant. “Thanks for keeping your promise, man. Last time I stick my neck out for you.”
“What’re you talkin’ about? I haven’t been on the drug scene in weeks. I’m heading to pick up the boss.” Hands on his hips, the man arches his eyebrow. “...and why are you and the kid out here at three in the morning?”
‘Heading to pick up the boss, yeah.’
“Trying to chase down your ungrateful ass, that’s what. All the way down the northside tunnels.”
“Girl, so you’re crazy an’ stupid? Nobody sets foot in the northside of the Underground and I sure as shit didn’t, I’ll tell you that.”, he counter-grills the vigilante.
Taken aback, Joss yields. Examining the individual in front of her, questions gripping her mind.
When did he change clothes? Has it really been that long since we’ve seen each other? Where was the other guy?
Teal eyes softening, he sighs. “Look, I’m tellin’ you. I gave it up. ...I got gig as the Cavezza’s driver. I know it ain’t much better.. but I’m tryin’.”
Tilting her head slightly, Joss inches closer. “..But.. I was tailing you for the last two hours. I saw you and Landa dip down into the Cedar Street entrance.”
Criminal and criminal alike share a crushing silence, thoughts plastered on their confused and skeptical faces. Concern now etching the man’s features.
Were you?
After a moment of shuffling the evidence through her mind, Joss accepts the man wasn’t lying.. and comes to a realization.
“Aw, hell no! Nope, nope, nope!” Joss throws her hands up in terrified defiance.
“See! I told you! Now there could be some shadowy version of us running around! I’m going home-home.”
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So, watching post-mortem movies on Birds of Prey--everyone needs a hobby--I think the issue is that we have a story where Harley is meant to be the Jack Sparrow, yet not only is she the main protagonist, but the surrounding plot contrasts with her characterization in the wrong ways, resulting in a tonal mismatch rather than a fun superhero caper.
You can kinda see this in the line-up. Renee Montoya is a hard-boiled cop. Huntress is a vigilante trying to avenge her dead family. Black Canary--well, I guess they decided to just invent an entirely new ‘working for the bad guy’ personality for her, but when she joined the BOP in the comics, she was recovering from the Longbow Hunters’ torture. Putting them all together is like doing an X-Men movie where Storm and Nightcrawler play second fiddle to Deadpool. You always kinda feel like the story has the wrong protagonist, that for some reason we’re centering the movie on a comic relief side character.
I think the obvious solution would be just to make it a Gotham City Sirens movie. Yeah, you’d have to nerf Ivy to keep her from ending every fight with mind-controlling the enemies, but other than that, it’d work far better.
First off, it seems pretty obvious that the Joker should be the villain and his ‘break-up’ with Harley should happen on-screen. But until then, Harley would be his henchwoman--sort of like Black Canary was for Roman in the finished movie.
Catwoman could take half of Cass’s place as someone who steals from the Joker. Now, you don’t have to do some cliched MacGuffin plot where there’s a diamond that will let the Joker take over Gotham City, or--Jesus--the diamond is full of dick pics. It’s the Joker. The MacGuffin can be anything he irrationally fixates on, mixed with his seething resentment of being disrespected by Selina. Selina could steal a Big Mouth Billy Bass Joker Fish just because she thinks it’s funny for a cat to steal a ‘fish,’ and that could motivate the plot. Say the Joker sees it as a memento of the time Batman almost killed him or whatever.
Ivy could kinda have the Huntress role, only instead of trying to avenge her parents being murdered in front of her eyes--JESUS--she can be killing people who endanger the environment, who also happen to be evil psychos in general. I think it’d be a decent gag, that Ivy keeps killing rapists and serial killers, but because they littered or don’t recycle. It’d give her a little bit of a grace note--she says she doesn’t care about people and only wants to protect plants, but the people she kills all tend to be abusers and oppressors, even if she won’t acknowledge it.
I said Selina could be one-half of Cass’s role and the other half would be Holly Robinson. Let’s say that over the course of all this craziness with Harley hunting down Selina on Joker’s behalf, Holly accidentally breaks the Joker Fish, which has the Joker order Harley to kill her. That’s a bridge too far for Harley, and she kidnaps Holly to keep her safe while trying to cool Joker down--get his Joker Fish fixed, while coming to the slow realization that the Joker isn’t just misunderstood, he’s an irredeemable psychopath who doesn’t care about her at all.
Meanwhile, Selina is trying to save Holly, and Ivy is, well...
I kind of imagine the whole thing being an under-two-hours, The Good The Bad And The Ugly kind of thing, with Harley, Selina, and Ivy continually clashing, teaming up, betraying each other, and otherwise at cross purposes until finally going after the Joker. It wouldn’t be a classic ‘team’ movie, but then the GCS was never much of a team, so I’m giving myself more leeway here (like, I guess sometimes we’re calling Batwoman a member? Who knows).
Also, I kinda think it’d be funny if it were ‘revealed’ that this whole thing was taking place right during Justice League, and that Batman isn’t involved because he’s literally saving the world, which Harley and co. haven’t even noticed. I mean, you know we can’t get Batman in one of these things, so you might as well have fun with it.
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EXCALIBUR OMNIBUS VOL. 1 HC DAVIS FIRST-ISSUE COVER
Written by CHRIS CLAREMONT & ALAN DAVIS
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Life in Film: Ben Wheatley.
As Netflix goes gothic with a new Rebecca adaptation, director Ben Wheatley tells Jack Moulton about his favorite Hitchcock film, the teenagers who will save cinema, and a memorable experience with The Thing.
“The actual process of filmmaking is guiding actors and capturing emotion on set. That’s enough of a job without putting another layer of postmodern film criticism over the top of it.” —Ben Wheatley
Winter’s coming, still no vaccine, the four walls of home are getting pretty samey… and what Netflix has decided we need right now is a lavish, gaslight-y psychological thriller about a clifftop manor filled with the personality of its dead mistress—and a revival of one of the best menaces in screen history. Bring on the ‘Mrs Danvers’ Hallowe’en costumes, because Rebecca is back.
In Ben Wheatley’s new film adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s best-selling 1938 novel, scripted by Jane Goldman, Lily James plays an orphaned lady’s maid—a complete nobody, with no known first name—who catches the eye of the dashing, cashed-up Maxim de Winter (Armie Hammer).
Very quickly, the young second Mrs de Winter is flung into the intimidating role of lady of Manderley, and into the shadow of de Winter’s late first wife, Rebecca. The whirlwind romance is over; the obsession has begun, and it’s hotly fuelled by Manderley’s housekeeper, Mrs Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas, perfectly cast).
Each adaptation of du Maurier’s story has its own quirks, and early Letterboxd reactions suggest viewers will experience varying levels of satisfaction with Wheatley’s, depending on how familiar they are with both the novel and earlier screen versions—most notably, Alfred Hitchcock’s 1940 Best Picture winner, starring Laurence Olivier Joan Fontaine, and Judith Anderson.
Why would you follow Hitchcock? It’s been 80 years; Netflix is likely banking on an audience of Rebecca virgins (the same kind of studio calculation that worked for Bradley Cooper’s A Star is Born). Plus, the new Rebecca is a Working Title affair; it has glamor, camp, Armie Hammer in a three-piece suit, the sunny South of France, sports cars, horses, the wild Cornish coast, Lily James in full dramatic heat, and—controversial!—a fresh twist on the denouement.
A big-budget thriller made for a streamer is Wheatley coming full circle, in a way: he made his name early on with viral internet capers and a blog (“Mr and Mrs Wheatley”) of shorts co-created with his wife and longtime collaborator, Amy Jump. Between then and now, they have gained fans for their well-received low-to-no budget thrillers, including High-Rise, Kill List and Free Fire (which also starred Hammer).
Over Zoom, Wheatley spoke to Letterboxd about the process of scaling up, the challenge of casting already-iconic characters, and being a year-round horror lover. [The Rebecca plot discussion may be spoilery to some. Wheatley is specifically talking about the du Maurier version, not his film.]
Armie Hammer and Ben Wheatley on the set of ‘Rebecca’.
Can you tell us how you overcame any concerns in adapting a famous novel that already has a very famous adaptation? How did you want to make a 1930s story relevant to modern audiences?
Ben Wheatley: When you go back to the novel and look at how it works, you see it’s a very modern book. [Author Daphne du Maurier is] doing stuff that people are still picking up the pieces of now. It’s almost like the Rosetta Stone of thrillers—it tells you everything on how to put a thriller together. The genre jumping and Russian-doll nature of the structure is so delicious. When you look at the characters in the book, they’re still popping up in other stuff—there’s Mrs Danvers in all sorts of movies.
It remains fresh because of its boldness. Du Maurier is writing in a way that’s almost like a dare. She’s going, “right, okay, you like romantic fiction do you? I’ll write you romantic fiction; here’s Maxim de Winter, he’s a widower, he’s a good-looking guy, and owns a big house. Here’s a rags-to-riches, Cinderella-style girl. They’re going to fall in love. Then I’m going to ruin romantic fiction for you forever by making him into a murdering swine and implicating you in the murder because you’re so excited about a couple getting away with it!”
That’s the happy ending—Maxim doesn’t go to prison. How does that work? He’s pretty evil by the end. It’s so subtly done that you only see the trap of it after you finish reading the book. That’s clearly represented in Jane Goldman’s adaptation that couldn’t be done in 1940 because of the Hays Code. That whole element of the book is missing [in Hitchcock’s Rebecca]. But I do really like this style of storytelling in the 1930s and ’40s that is not winky, sarcastic, and cynical. It’s going, “here’s Entertainment with a big ‘E’. We’re going to take you on holiday, then we’re gonna scare you, then we’re gonna take you around these beautiful houses that you would never get a chance to go around, and we’re gonna show you these big emotions.”
After High-Rise, you ended up circling back to more contained types of films, whereas Rebecca is your lushest and largest production. How was scaling up for you?
Free Fire does feel like a more contained film, but in many ways it was just as complicated and had the same budget as High-Rise, since it’s just in one space. Happy New Year, Colin Burstead is literally a contained film, that’s right. What [the bigger budget] gave me was the chance to have a conversation where I say I want a hotel that’s full of people and no-one says you can’t have any people in it. You don’t have to shoot in a corner, so that scale is suddenly allowed.
Elisabeth Moss and Tom Hiddlestone in Wheatley’s ‘High-Rise’ (2015).
The other movies I did are seen as no-budget or, I don’t even know the word for how little money they are, and even though High-Rise and Free Fire were eight million dollars each, they’re still seen as ultra-low budget. This is the first film that I’ve done that’s just a standard Hollywood-style movie budget and it makes a massive difference. It gives you extra time to work. All the schemes you might have had to work out in order to cheat and get around faster, but now it’s fine, let’s only shoot two pages today. We can go out on the road and close down all of the south of France—don’t worry about all the holidaymakers screaming at you and getting cross! That side of it is great.
You had the challenge to cast iconic actors for iconic roles. What were you looking for in the casting? What points of reference did you give the actors?
I don’t think we really talked about it, but [Armie Hammer] definitely didn’t watch the Hitchcock version. I can understand why he wouldn’t. There was no way he was going to accidentally mimic [Laurence] Olivier’s performance without seeing it and he just didn’t want to have the pressure of that. I think that’s quite right. It’s an 80-year-old film, it’s a beloved classic, and we’d be mad if we were trying to remake it. We’re not.
The thing about the shadow that the film cast is that it’s hard enough making stuff without thinking about other filmmakers. I’ve had this in the past where journalists ask me “what were your influences on the day?” and I wish I could say “it was a really complicated set of movies that the whole thing was based around”, but it’s not like that. When you watch documentaries about filmmakers screening loads of movies for their actors before they make something—it’s lovely, but it’s not something I’ve ever done.
The actual process of filmmaking is guiding actors and capturing emotion on set. That’s enough of a job without putting another layer of postmodern film criticism over the top of it—“we’ll use this shot from 1952, that will really make this scene sing!”—then you’re in a world of pain. Basically, it’s my interpretation of the adaptation. The book is its own place, and for something like High-Rise, [screenwriter Amy Jump] has the nightmare of sitting down with 112 pages of blank paper and taking a novel and smashing it into a script. That’s the hard bit.
Armie Hammer and Lily James in ‘Rebecca’.
Current industry news is not so great—cinemas are facing bankruptcy, film festivals in the USA are mostly virtual, Disney is focusing on Disney+ only. How do you feel about a future where streaming dominates the market and the theatrical experience becomes, as we fear, an exclusive niche?
Independent cinema was born out of very few movies. If you look at the history of Eraserhead—that film on its own almost created all of cult cinema programming. One movie can do that. It can create an audience that is replicated and becomes a whole industry. And that can happen again, but it needs those films to do that. They will come as things ebb and flow. The streamers will control the whole market and then one day someone will go “I don’t want to watch this stuff, I want to watch something else” and they’ll go make it.
It’s like The Matrix, it’s a repeating cycle. There’ll always be ‘the One’. There’s Barbara Loden in 1970 making Wanda, basically inventing American independent cinema. So I don’t worry massively about it. I know it’s awkward and awful for people to go bankrupt and the cinemas to close down, but in time they’ll re-open because people will wanna see stuff. The figures for cinemagoers were massive before Covid. Are you saying that people with money are not going to exploit that? Life will find a way. Remember that the cinema industry from the beginning is one that’s in a tailspin. Every year is a disaster and they’re going bust. But they survived the Spanish Flu, which is basically the same thing.
Two months ago, you quickly made a horror movie. We’re going to get a lot of these from filmmakers who just need to create something this year. What can you identify now about this inevitable next wave of micro-budget, micro-schedule pandemic-era cinema?
I’ve always made micro-budget films so that side of it is not so crazy. There will be a lot of Zoom and people-locked-in-houses films but they won’t be so interesting. They’re more to-keep-you-sane kind of filmmaking which is absolutely fine. Where you should look for [the ‘pandemic-era’ films] is from the kids and young adults through 14 to 25 who’ve been the most affected by it. They will be the ones making the true movies about the pandemic which will be in like five years’ time.
People going through GCSEs and A-Levels [final high-school exams in England] will have had their social contracts thoroughly smashed by the government after society tells them that this is the most important thing you’re ever gonna do in your life. Then the next day the government tells them “actually, you’ve all passed”, then the next day they go “no, you’ve all failed”, and then “oh no, you’ve all passed”. It’s totally bizarre. Anyone who’s in university at the moment [is] thinking about how they’ve worked really hard to get to that position and now they’ve had it taken away from them. That type of schism in that group will make for a unique set of storytelling impetus. Much more interesting than from my perspective of being a middle-age bloke and having to stay in my house for a bit, which was alright. Their experience is extreme and that will change cinema.
Kristin Scott Thomas as Mrs Danvers in ‘Rebecca’.
It’s time to probe into your taste in film. Firstly, three questions about Alfred Hitchcock: his best film, most underrated film, and most overrated film?
It’s tricky, there’s a lot to choose from. I think Psycho is his best film because, much like Wanda, it was the invention of indie cinema. He took a TV crew to go and do a personal project and then completely redefined horror, and he did it in the same year as Peeping Tom.
There’s stuff I really like in Torn Curtain. Certainly the murder scene where they’re trying to stick the guy in the oven. It’s a gut-wrenching sequence. Overrated, I don’t know. It’s just a bit mean, isn’t it? Overrated by who? They’re all massively rated, aren’t they?
Which film made you want to become a filmmaker?
The slightly uncool version of my answer is the first fifteen minutes of Dr. No before I got sent to bed. We used to watch movies on the telly when I was a kid, so movies would start at 7pm and I had to go to bed at 7:30pm. You would get to see the first half-hour and that would be it. The opening was really intriguing. I never actually saw a lot of these movies until I was much older.
The more grown-up answer is a film like Taxi Driver. It was the first time where I felt like I’d been transported in a way where there was an authorship to a film that I didn’t understand. It had done something to me that television and straightforward movies hadn’t done and made me feel very strange. It was something to do with the very, very intense mixture of sound, music and image and I started to understand that that was cinema.
What horror movie do you watch every Hallowe’en?
I watch The Thing every year but I don’t tend to celebrate Hallowe’en, to be honest. I’m of an age where it wasn’t a big deal and was never particularly celebrated. I find it a bit like “what’s all this Hallowe’en about?”—horror films for me are for all year-round.
What’s a brilliant mindfuck movie that perhaps even cinephiles haven’t seen?
What grade of cinephile are we talking? All of the work by Jan Švankmajer, maybe. Hard to Be a God is pretty mindfucky if you want a bit of that, but cinephiles should know about it. It’s pretty intense. Marketa Lazarová too.
‘Marketa Lazarová’ (1967) directed by František Vláčil.
What is the greatest screen romance that you totally fell head over heels for?
I guess it’s Casablanca for me. That would be it.
Which coming-of-age film did you connect to the most as a teenager?
[Pauses for effect] Scum.
Who is an exciting newcomer director we should keep our eyes on?
God, I don’t know. I would say Jim Hosking but he’s older than me and he’s not a newcomer because he’s done two movies. So, that’s rubbish. He doesn’t count.
[Editor’s note: Hosking contributed to ABCs of Death 2 with the segment “G is for Grandad” while Wheatley contributed to The ABCs of Death with the segment “U is for Unearthed” and also executive produced the follow-up film.]
What was your best cinema experience?
[Spoiler warning for The Thing.]
Oh, one that speaks in my mind is seeing The Thing at an all-nighter in the Scala at King’s Cross, and I was sitting right next to this drunk guy who was talking along to the screen. It was a packed cinema with about 300 people, and someone at the front told him “will you just shut up?” The guy says “I won’t shut up. You tell me to shut up again and I’ll spoil the whole film!” The whole audience goes “no, no, no!” and he went “it’s the black guy and the guy with the beard—everyone else dies!” That made me laugh so much.
Do you have a favorite film you’ve watched so far this year?
Yeah, Zombie Flesh Eaters.
Related content
Classic Gothic Literature to Film—Jennifer Boddaert’s list
Ava’s Dark Romance list
Ben Wheatley’s Life in Film list
Follow Jack on Letterboxd
‘Rebecca’ is in select US theaters on October 17, and streaming on Netflix everywhere on October 21.
#ben wheatley#rebecca#alfred hitchcock#gothic#gothic cinema#gothic film#gothic romance#thriller#psychological thriller#armie hammer#letterboxd#kristen scott thomas#kristin scott thomas#netflix#working title#the thing#free fire#high-rise#english cinema#director#directing#amy jump#lily james
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Fictober 2019 | Day Twenty Four | “Patience… is not something I’m known for.”
Prompt: 24- “Patience… is not something I’m known for.”
Fandom & Ship: Community, Jeff x Annie
Summary: Jeff and Annie accidentally wear matching halloween costumes, based off of an anonymous prompt and a fictober prompt
She may have made a tiny mistake in picking out her Halloween costume this year...
The site says it’s an adult size small, but considering how short and... revealing it is, Annie isn’t so sure.
She originally intended on being a nurse, not a sexy nurse. Britta is definitely not going to approve of this, she says to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror.
It’s not all that bad. She has to have the zip up as far as it can go to show minimal cleavage, and when paired with some stockings, the dress doesn’t look too short...
At least she looks good in it. That counts, right?
She doesn’t really have time to do anything else with the outfit. Most of her other clothes are packed away, ready for her move into Troy and Abed’s apartment, and she doesn’t have another Halloween costume on hand.
Her thoughts are stopped by the sound of someone banging at her front door. She almost panics, until she remembers Jeff’s her ride to Shirley’s Halloween party.
“Annie, hurry up!”
“Wait a minute!” She calls from her room, giving herself time for one last lengthy look in the mirror. She flattens the skirt, pulls the zip up for extra measure, and slowly makes her way to the front door.
“You know Annie, patience is not something I’m known for....” Jeff says as she opens the door, but his voice lowers at the end of his sentence, when his eyes meet hers.
Um. Wow. She looks incredible. This is definitely not something he’s fantasised about before... nope.
“Hey, you hardly had to wait a long time. I was only a minute,” she smiles up at him all innocently, as if she has no idea how good she looks in her little get-up.
Then her eyes flicker downwards, and she sees his outfit. It’s like a lightbulb flickers above their heads at the same time.
“So a nurse huh?” “You’re a doctor!” they say at the same time.
“Oh god. Everyone’s gonna think we planned this,” Jeff moans.
“It’s just a coincidence,” Annie offers with a laugh. “It doesn’t have to be awkward if we don’t let it.”
“You don’t understand,” he rolls his eyes at her, but in all honesty he actually has to look away from her because the sight of her in that nurses outfit is kind of driving him crazy. “Forget it, let’s go.”
He’s mostly silent for the car journey, and Annie can just tell he’s thinking about how he can get out of people thinking they’ve planned a couples costume.
But she does have to admit - even if he can’t see it - it’s pretty funny.
“Why did you decide to be a doctor anyway?” she asks. “I thought you’d go for something... for lack of a better word, sexy.”
“Annie, I make any Halloween costume look sexy,” he looks at her, the glow from the red light illuminating his features and making him look even more devilishly handsome.
She rolls her eyes in response, even if she is inclined to agree. She remembers how good he looked when he reluctantly dressed up as a cowboy.
“Women love doctors and that’s a fact. I’ll be irresistible,” he winks.
“To who?”
“Everyone,” he shrugs.
She nods and stays silent, not wanting to tell him how right he is.
Besides, she can’t imagine him hitting it off with any of Shirley’s Greendale friends.
-
“Jeff! You’re here,” Shirley coos when they arrive. He’s strategically walked in front so he’s spotted first, making it look like Annie’s copied his costume. The sneaky bastard.
“Annie!” Shirley sings, but her mood falters when she spots the young girl’s costume. “Oh Annie, I thought you were one of the good ones!”
“Shirley!”
Britta arrives next, as if this moment couldn’t get any worse.
“Annie! What are you wearing?”
“Did you plan this with Jeff?” Shirley adds. “Oh honey, you don’t want to be anybody’s slutty nurse...”
“—and think of the gender stereotypes you’re perpetuating.”
“Guys, please!” Annie interrupts them, watching as they step back slightly aghast. “It was just a funny coincidence. And I also thought this costume was going to be a lot more... Age appropriate, trust me.”
“Women have always got to be a sexy version of something on those costume sites, Annie. That’s why you have to go for a costume like mine if you want to stick it to the man,” Britta gestures down to her Crayon costume. It’s certainly a statement.
“You look great, Britta,” Annie smiles.
“Well anyway, let’s go get you a drink,” Shirley takes her arm and leads her to the kitchen where Troy, Abed and Jeff are waiting for them. Pierce is nowhere to be seen but Annie doesn’t question it.
“Annie, NICE,” Troy announces when she walks in, earning a glare off of Britta.
“Did you plan this?” Abed asks, pointing between Jeff and Annie.
“No.” They say at once. Jeff rolls his eyes.
“Classic,” Abed laughs.
“Seriously you look great,” Troy adds, handing her a drink.
“You guys didn’t compliment my costume!” Britta interjects. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s practically staring at Jeff and Troy like she wants to kick or kill them. Annie’s not sure which option is more likely right now, considering Britta’s tone.
“Uhhhhh,” Troy tries to think of a compliment.
“You make a great Crayon, Britta,” Jeff offers.
“Typical,” she rolls her eyes and downs her beer, stalking out the kitchen in a huff.
“None of you complimented me either!” Shirley adds, following Britta out the room.
“I would if I even know what she was,” Troy sighs. Abed nods in agreement, staring at Shirley’s outfit with his head tilted as if he’s trying to work it out himself.
“Does she always have to wear such nondescript costumes to these things?” Jeff says to no one in particular.
Everyone nods in agreement.
-
They leave Shirley’s fairly early, all of them shooed out the door with a brownie to-go in their hands. No one is really sure why Shirley decided to host a party if she was going to kick her guests out before 11pm, but they weren’t complaining. They didn’t want to spend any more time with Gary.
“Well, that was lame,” Jeff turns to her as they walk to his car. “I’m guessing you need a ride home?”
“That’d be nice.”
“You make a good nurse,” he smiles when he realises they’re finally alone again. And he means it, not just in the way that she looks ridiculously good in the outfit, which she absolutely does by the way. He’s surprised he’s resisted the urge to kiss her against the car door (or any surface, if he’s honest.)
“You’d make an attractive doctor - like on TV or something,” she laughs. His doctor outfit does make for interesting fantasy material... Dr Winger and Nurse Edison? She could probably write a romantic novel about those two.
“What’s that guys name? Dreamy McDreamface? That could be me.” He smiles smugly at her,
“You watch Grey’s Anatomy?”
“If nothing else is on,” he shrugs her question off as they climb into his car.
She laughs at him. She almost thinks it was meant to be, this awkward coincidence. They do make a surprisingly good pair, even if he doesn’t want to admit to it. They’ve been on enough capers together to know they have the right chemistry, a good rapport. And Annie does find him attractive, in and out of his scrubs. Actually, she’s fairly sure he could wear anything and she would still find him ridiculously hot, a fact she’d never share with him as to not over-inflate his ego.
But it’s cute. She likes it, the fact that they could be mistaken for a couple. The fact that he kept smiling at her all night and stayed close even though he really didn’t have to. Come to think of it, he barely spent time with the other women Shirley had invited to her makeshift Halloween get together, even Britta. Plus, she even caught him checking her out a handful of times too. But what did it all mean?
This is Jeff she’s thinking about. The guy who can never give her a straight answer about anything when it comes to their star crossed dynamic. The very same Jeff that gives her those looks that she thinks might mean something, and then pats on the head and pushes her away and treats her like a child again.
It’s never going to be easy with him, is it?
There’s always going to mixed signals and confusion and crushes and longing… She’s just accepted that as a fact now. Jeff is the perfect fantasy material - great to daydream about when she’s alone in her bedroom, but the reality of the situation is a lot more complex.
“Tonight was surprisingly fun,” he says, Annie hadn’t realised how silent she must’ve been while she was sitting there thinking about him. Oops.
“Surprisingly?”
“Well yeah. I thought everyone was going to make a bigger deal out of this,” he gestures between them. “But it was actually kind of nice.”
“What? Having similar costumes?”
“Yeah. We looked good together.”
She can feel her cheeks getting warmer and no matter how hard she fights against it, her lips curl into a big smile as she watches him. He’s being sincere and it’s adorably sweet.
“We did,” she grins.
“So… I was thinking… How about you be my ring girl next year? I’ve got my costume planned too and I think you’ll like it”
“The ring girl? Weird choice, but okay…” she says as she gets out of his car.
He looks at her confused for a second, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he smiles as she waves goodbye and watches her disappear into her building.
Thank god she’s leaving this place, it’s terrifying, he thinks as he pulls away.
He can still smell her perfume lingering around the front seat, and smiles when he imagines her sat next to him, still in that little nurse’s outfit.
For a second, he finds himself wishing he’d kissed her goodnight.
Oh god, what has she done to him?
#fictober19#jeff x annie#annie x jeff#jeff/annie#community#community nbc#annie edison#jeff winger#fan fic
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No Place Like Home 💜
Dedicated to @marvelpotterlove 💜 This was a 5 part series, but I extended it to 6.. and now I'm extending it again with this epilogue long after the fact but @amethyst1993 made me wanna do it so here we go.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
•▪• ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ •▪• ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ •▪•
Epilogue: Happy New Year
December 31st began with waking up in a California king with a California king as sun rays streamed through stark white curtains onto the bed to illuminate his scar-riddled skin a brilliant gold. The best part about the peaceful moment was that it was not an anomaly. The same angelic image of him could be seen any given morning after a devilish night with him at his place and it was forever burned into your memory. You watched silently as his eyes blinked open and adjusted peeacefully on yours. No words were needed. With a lighthearted smile, you dipped your head under the sheet and grabbed his morning wood in your hand, trailing your lips up and down the shaft. Your tongue happily followed the same path as he turned laying fully on his back.
"That lip balm is the truth," he groaned, voice almost as deep as your affection for him. You smiled into the vein running lengthwise up his stiffness, silently sighing a small laugh and he twitched in your hand. Since you'd bought both of you your own tubes of Beekman's Pure Goat Milk Lipbalm, he'd been using his nonstop and noticing just how soft it made his lips. He swore yours were softer too, like silken rose petals, although you'd been using the stuff. Sticking your blanket covered butt in the air, you enveloped him in your mouth, sucking gently on the head. You could taste his precum as it mixed with your spit and you let it drool back onto him, twisting your hands around his shaft. You took it slow, with neither of you having anywhere else more important to be. Slowly and passionately, you channeled all of your lust into the soft cushions of your lips. You could hear him exhale short gusts of air and swallow. His hands felt on your shoulders and when he pulled the blanket off of you, you looked up at him.. feeling him twitch in your mouth. Your hands traveled up his abs and rubbed all over his chest before you popped him out of your mouth and rubbed him all over your face, getting messy. You slapped him gently against your cheek and when you sucked him again, he groaned deeply. "Where you want it, baby?" When you didn't release him, sucking more vigorously instead he knew the answer and he came with a final twitch and slight jerk of the hips. You made sure to swallow every drop. "You.. are perfect," he sighed watching you with wide eyes. He was completely enamored and the thought made your head swim with elation. "Come here," he whispered curling his fingers in a matching hand motion. You wiggled up to kiss him before he guided you onto your back and kissed from your lips to your neck to your navel. "My turn," he said huskily, making himself comfortable as if he planned to be down there a while. Three and a half hours was the current record and that was because you were marathoning Brooklyn 99 when it happened that one time.
Brunch was prepared by a shirtless Erik and you made sure to watch carefully as he wrapped scallops with brown-sugared bacon and cut up smoked salmon, arranging it neatly over capers, eggs, onion, and a toasted baguette. He then moved onto a pasta dish. It was elegant and picture perfect and his signature cocktail was the perfect complement. You cut up the fruit, set the table, and washed dishes as a contribution and after the food, you kissed Erik goodbye and promised to be ready at 7:20 PM for your date.
---
Ang sat on your bed while you got dressed telling you about how drastically her older brother's veneers changed his look and now he might get married now. "He used to say hook me up with one of your friends," she copied in a deep voice that made you shake your head with a grin. Somehow she looked as sounded like him when she did that. "..And I'd tell him no because he's ugly.. and he was!"
"Oh I remember," you scoff and she shows you his glowup on her phone. "Oh yeah, he'll be married by next year if that's what he truly wants. He looks good."
"I'm not telling his bighead that.. and you! So you didn't try to work at all today, whaaat? That beautiful man has turned you out and I'm here FOR it, child," Ang waved her hand in the air with a sip from her wine glass.
"It's New Year's Eve, Ang! I don't typically work on New Y--" You couldn't contain it, your snicker sprung free from your gut as she stared through you calling out the lie with her eyes. Once you cracked, she did too giggling with you. If Erik weren't in the picture, you'd be working right now or thinking about it. "Oh wait! I have your New Year's gift," you jump, shuffling to your closet. "For you, my darling." You hand her a shiny blue gift bag and her lip curves into a happy pout.
"Awwww," she fawns pulling out the Coach scarf and matching leather gloves. "I would say you didn't have to--"
"BUT I DID," you yell with a knowing smile, finishing the sentence with her in unison.
"I've got your gift in the car! I'll go get it hold on," she grins. Your phone buzzes and when you check it, it's Jamira. Ang stops short so you pass it to her and she rolls her eyes at the name on the screen, typing a response.
"What.. do.. you.. want.. tacky little girl," she says slowly, typing it out. "I still don't like that mousey bitch or her tangled ass wig," she mutters crossing her arms flippantly, the phone dropping to the bed.
"I'm just glad she finally got from up under my mama's toxic ass and went and got some business," you say twirling in the brand new white dress you purchased for your date. It had a flowy mid-thigh length a-line skirt, a ruffled sheer hem, sheer long sleeves, and deep v-neck cleavage. You paired it with white pumps, a silver necklace with a diamond pendant, and diamond stud earrings. "Crazy what space and self-reflection can do for a person."
"You're better than me. I wouldn't care about her little transformation. Transform these hands, little Yoda."
The shift in your family structure was something serious. You heard through the grapevine that your stepdad passed, but you didn't so much as call let alone go to the funeral. You were grown and he'd had years to develop a relationship with you.. but he chose not to.. so you didn't feel bad about your decision in the least. You didn't comment on the Facebook posts and videos. You didn't send any condolences. Shortly after, you learned that Jamira left the city and relocated to New Jersey.
The phone rings this time and you both stare at it, letting it ring. "Answer it," you say finally and with a long groan Ang picks it up, putting it on speaker.
"WHAT... little girl," she sighs.
"Can I speak to my sister."
"WHAT? LITTLE GIRL," you repeat.
"Y/N.. I wanted to call you to say... I'm sorry.." she pauses and you exchange bewildered expressions with Ang.
"I don't give the fuck," Ang mouths and you chuckle silently listening to hear what comes next.
"I was a bitch and mom is still a bitch. I don't know why I was so bad to you.. Well no, I do know. I was angry at you because you had this huge plan like you just knew you were gonna be hot shit and then you left and I thought you'd come right back after you failed but then you didn't and I kept waiting for you to fall on your face. We all did, but you never came back and then you'd send money like you were rubbing it in our faces. You always had everything, like you were above us all. I hated you, or I thought I did.. In reality, I hated myself and I see that now too. Sooo.. Instead of hating you, I've decided to try and make my life something closer to the life I want. I just wanted to tell you that."
You stare at Ang and she stares back, her wide eyes matching yours. You're lost for words.
"Thank you for calling to tell me," you finally say calmly, unsure of how to respond. You aren't sure you're ready to wipe years under the rug just yet. "If you want to call me to talk from time to time.. you can," you add.
"I will," she says and when you hang up, you and Ang both let out a long sigh.
"I need a drink now," you laugh pouring yourself a bit more wine.
---
When Erik picks you up in his black NSX, he's looking sharp in his tailored deep navy and black suit. You can tell he got a fresh haircut to clean up around his locs and you smile reaching to touch it. "Well look at you," Ang yells from the door, heading to her car with her Coach goodies. The day was definitely all about elegance and refinement, you note gleefully as he hands you a beautiful bouquet of red and white flowers. "You know about flowers," he asks. You chuckle shaking your head. You hadn't a clue about them except that they were pretty and you were glad to get anything from him.
"Red carnations and white chrysanthemums," he points. "The red means love, pride, and admiration because I admire the way you handle yourself and persevere by any means necessary. The white means truth and loyalty.. and the ring in the middle," he points again watching your eyes grow wide at the princess cut yellow sapphire set in white gold. "..This is a promise ring," he smiles, silver fangs gleaming. "It says I promise to always support you, be there for you, and available to you. You're strong and you've only gotten stronger since we've been together. I've gotten stronger. Better. I don't know what forever looks like, or fuck it, next year honestly. But one day at a time, I think we can do this.. What you think?"
"...Yeah," you nod meekly and laugh, your feelings beginning to overflow. You pick up the ring and he helps slide it on. You can feel a tear slip down your cheek and it's not even a proposal.
"How's my gift supposed to compare to that," Ang pouts playfully revealing a silver bag.
"So you just gone ruin my moment? I had her crying tears of joy," Erik stresses in a brag like the moment he'd created was a woven masterpiece.
"Hush, prettyboy." Ang playfully bumps him out of the way and he steps back. She puts the bag in your hands and as soon as you try to look in it, she grabs it back with a mischievous smile. "I put something in there for him too. Happy New Year!I'm putting this in your living room. Look through it later, okay. For now, you two go have fun" she says dancing toward the house, locking the door and returning your keys. You don't stop her because you know she has plans for the night as well.
---
In the car, you told Erik about your sister's call. His response was to leave the decision up to you as to whether you would forgive her or keep contact with her. "You're the only one who can decide if you are or will ever be ready for that," he said simply. "Just keep her away from me." You couldn't be mad at it.
The Fox Theatre was his surprise. You jumped into his arms wrapping yours happily around his neck when you realized you were there for an Ella Mai concert. Loudly, you both sang and there was nothing that could've possibly been better. You were almost ashamed to give him his gift which was in your trunk.. an Aerogarden.. a stainless steel mini countertop garden with LED lighting that would allow him to grow his own fresh herbs, greens, and veggies right there in the kitchen. Thankfully, he loved it. "Thank you, baby," he said between smothering kisses all over your face. He really loved it.
It was the perfect date night and when he dropped you back at home, you invited him in to see what Ang brought the two of you. From the bag, you pull out a Kate Spade wallet and a mug that says Reformed Workaholic. Erik smirks and you hit him playfully. Then you pull out an envelope but it's addressed to him. He opens the it and reads the card:
Erik, Thank you for taking care of my bestie. She deserves it. I'm glad she found someone like you. If she ever gets on your nerves, just drop her off at my house, but stick around.
"Ain't gotta tell me," he says slipping it back into the envelope. There's a pair of Gucci black rimmed glasses and he grabs them immediately putting them on.
"Damn..," you jerk at how fast he moved to grab them. "I'll tell her you liked them!" Chuckling, you take out the last items. A bottle of honey and a can of whipped cream. "What I'm supposed to do with this," you mumble, your mind putting it together. There's a dark glint in his eyes.
"You gone really thank her after I show you how they do New Years kisses in Australia," he whispers lowly in your ear with an Australian accent. "Down under." You cackle. Pulling you up from the couch, he drapes you over his shoulder like a caveman, slapping your ass and he takes you up the stairs, honey and whipped cream in hand. You're thanking her in your head already.
@hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @simplyyamberr @whoramilaje @bonita-juanita @eriknutinthispoosy @blackpinup22 @thadelightfulone @yaachtynoboat711 @youreadthatright
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My thoughts on the new show
It’s not really a proper review because how would I even do that, so here are my various thoughts, somewhat collected! (This is long as hell, fair warning.)
General thoughts:
Le Chevre and El Topo are definitely a couple. I’m so glad other people in the tag are seeing this too. My first inkling was when they were hugging each other after graduating, but it was Carmen’s comment that they only ever work together that really got me like “oh they’re gay.”
Speaking of gays, Dash Haber (Countess Cleo’s courier) is one. His voice is so gay-coded, I knew this one immediately. Not crazy about him being an antagonist (even among antagonists), but he amused me, so he’s good.
Even if they have the same names, these are different characters. The exceptions here being Carmen, the Chief, and possibly Julia. This isn’t a Tomb Raider: Legend case of putting characters in different situations and slightly changing their personalities, or even a Tomb Raider 2013 case of radically changing their personalities to coincide with their new paradigms. Chase, Zack, Ivy, and the rest are really entirely new characters that simply share their names with past characters. It’s almost as if the names are references to the past shows and games than ties to those characters.
For the most part, they even have different designs. Zack is certainly the most radical change, but even the most similar have some changes. Prof. Maelstrom isn’t nearly as stocky as his namesake, and while Dr. Saira Bellum has wild hair like Dr. Sara Bellum, it’s a strange shape as well as a strange color, and her skin is darker.
This isn’t the first time something like this has happened in the franchise, either. Minnie Series from Where on Earth is apparently a totally different character from Minnie Series from the original Where in Time game. Adventures in Math changed a lot of the characters’ designs and backstories: some, like Jacqueline Hyde, still had the same core, but others, like Jane Reaction, are so different they have to be considered different characters. And then there are all the different iterations of the Chief: old white guy, middle-aged white guy, middle-aged Black gal, hologram, presumably white guy shrouded in mystery...
I will say that as a result of this, I was disappointed with Zack and Ivy. Not because this Zack and Ivy are bad characters, but because Where on Earth Zack and Ivy are my favorite characters in the franchise after Carmen, and I was looking forward to getting to see them, or at least characters resembling them, again. But, it is what it is.
I get the Kim Possible comparisons, but they’re not where I’d jump first. There are similarities: both are action shows with deliciously OTT villains (though the VILE gang wish they were as effortlessly iconic as Drakken, Shego, and Señor Senior, Sr. and Jr.) and similar art styles, and Player/Wade is a fair comparison. But I have to say I’d never have thought of that comparison if I hadn’t seen it here on Tumblr, perhaps because KP was rooted in Kim and Ron’s daily lives (Sailor Moon-style), whereas CS is rooted in its overarching plot (Chuck-style).
I do agree with another comparison: Coach Brunt and Countess Cleo, and Eartha Brute and the Contessa. I saw a post in the tag earlier today that brought this up, and while I hadn’t thought of it - probably because the Where in the World show is one of the parts of canon I’m least familiar with - it seems legit to me. I had wondered why these two were seemingly born out of nowhere, when the other three had their names and likenesses drawn from Where on Earth characters. (Shadowsan seems to me to be based on Suhara’s design and, to some extent, personality, with Shadow Hawkins’ name.) The specific theory that post espouses, that it’s a legal issue, seems possible to me. Although the World villains did appear in other Carmen media, I know WGBH and WQED own the copyright to the show, though they licensed the franchise from Brøderbund. So I have no idea what the legal tangle is behind that show, and I imagine it’s very complicated.
Speaking of WGBH: I wonder if Zack and Ivy being from Boston is an incredibly subtle reference to its location there.
I have mixed feelings about the art style. It is great in still shots, but I found it a little hard to watch as animation for very long.
I don’t ship anything – yet. Julia’s clarification of “travel partner” is certainly ripe for shippy implications, but for me there’s really not much on a personality level to ship her and Carmen at this point. (Likewise Carmen and Ivy, or Carmen and Zack.) I could definitely get behind Julia having a crush on Carmen, the way I feel OG!Jules certainly does.
As to Gray... he was plainly asking Carmen out / hitting on her when he gave her his card. But even on the way to the date, she insisted she saw him as an older brother figure. Like with Julia, I could potentially get behind it in future, but I’d have to see it developed further. There’s also the matter of him trying to kill Carmen, which I’m not crazy about... Carmen’s forgiven him since he was under orders from VILE, and his mind-erase courtesy of Dr. Bellum has given him a fresh start, but it didn’t change who he fundamentally is as a person, and that person made the decision to join VILE and ultimately to agree to kill Carmen. But I’m not totally anti-Carmen/Gray at this point.
(In re Carmen’s sexuality: I have always felt strongly that all of Carmen’s previous incarnations were ace/aro, but this Carmen? The sapphics have claimed her, and I’m here for it. I’m fine with her being gay, bi, or pan. I’m fine with her being acespec and/or arospec, or not.)
I was surprised by the violence. Scenes of literal attempted murder would never have made it in previous shows or games! In fact, a lot of the melee combat wouldn’t have. The franchise hasn’t always been totally non-violent - Ivy whacked the occasional villain around on Earth, and ThinkQuick and Stolen Drums both required the player to destroy VILE robots, the former featuring robots with personalities - but I don’t think it’s ever been shown in such detail as the combat scenes in this series. I don’t have a problem with it, exactly, but it was a little jarring.
Things I didn’t like:
The educational moments were utterly didactic. I guess you could say the same about Earth, but I feel like it integrated the education into the plot better, and it certainly made the educational moments more fun by working jokes into them. Meanwhile, this show is taking the Stolen Drums approach of info-dumping for two minutes and then moving ahead with the actual plot with no attention to education thereafter. To go back to my favorite video game (I warned y’all), fucking Tomb Raider: Legend did a better job integrating education with action. And it’s not even supposed to be educational!
Stop trying to make “caper” happen. It’s not going to happen. It’s a perfectly good word to use from time to time, as it always has been in canon, but for “The ____ Caper” to be every episode title, and for it to be used at every opportunity in the script when “theft” or “heist” or another word could have been used just as easily gets annoying. The thesaurus: it exists. Also, it’s so overused that at a certain point I started thinking of the culinary garnish instead of a crime. (And I’ve never even eaten capers. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them in person.)
I’m not crazy about the newly established genesis of Carmen’s name. Having her grow up with no name but “Black Sheep” makes me feel uncomfortable tbh, and while I like the significance of her choosing her own name, pulling it off a hat label seems cheap. And out of character for someone as thoughtful as Carmen.
Some of the villains seemed like real cultural stereotypes. Thankfully, it was not nearly as bad as Adventures in Math, or we’d literally have had Le Chevre saying, “Hon hon hon, baguettes!” but Shadowsan and Paper Star in particular made me uncomfortable as they felt like very stereotypical “Japanese” characters. The same could be said of Coach Brunt, who while not a stereotype of any marginalized group, was definitely a bit one-note. Coach Beiste, but evil and Texan.
Cross-language misspellings. Namely, Shadowsan and Le Chevre should be Shadow-san and Le Chèvre, should they not? The omission of accent marks has always been one of my major bugaboos, and while it’s not the first time the franchise has done it, it still annoys me. Shadow-san’s missing hyphen annoys me even more, since the hyphen indicates that other honorifics could be used, and in fact, it would (if I understand correctly) be more appropriate for his students to address him as Shadow-sama or Shadow-sensei while his peers call him Shadow-san.
I felt some real misogynistic undertones to Tigress. In a show that otherwise is quite female-forward, it irked me that of Carmen’s four classmates, only one is a girl - and she’s the one who becomes Carmen’s rival. And then for that to continue throughout the series, setting her up as the mean girl to Carmen’s good girl (in many ways, the Regina to Carmen’s Janis Ian), really bothered me. I certainly don’t think female characters have to be perfect, or expect perfect representation, but it feels like Tigress’ development just was not done mindfully, and instead they let themselves fall into misogynistic tropes. It’s not like you to pit women against each other, etc. etc.
The ages and timeline confused me. Carmen seems to be in her late teens or early twenties throughout the main part of the series (I saw a post that mentioned she says she’s 20), yet she was clearly still a preteen or young teen when she stole Cookie’s hard drive. Since Cookie’s delivery is an annual event, its information shouldn’t last Carmen those several years to grow up.
By a similar token, Player seems to be the same age in the flashbacks as in the present day. As a result, he seems a little older than Carmen to start, and a few years younger to conclude. It messes me up. Not least because, not gonna lie, I want to be sure it’s okay for me to be so gay for Carmen.
Things I liked:
The references to previous canon. Along with the aforementioned names, we have:
Rita Moreno’s cameo! (Please, please, God, give us another Rita cameo and cameos for the rest of the Earth cast next season.)
Mentions of punning names. This was delightfully lampshaded with Gray’s original codename of “Graham Crackle” and the subsequent drags from his classmates. And while most of the other characters didn’t get punning names, one of the two who did was Rita’s character, Cookie Booker, the bookkeeper - or, indeed, book-cooker.
The very meta plot point of Carmen getting her outfit by stealing it from Cookie, voiced by her previous incarnation’s voice actor.
Frequent utterances of “Where in the world is...” or “Where on Earth is...”
Tigress’ name, a reference to an Earth episode where Carmen faces a new rival. I don’t know if the Duchess plotline was also a deliberate reference to this episode, or a subconscious one, but it’s so similar that I can’t think it was total coincidence.
I’m thinking “the cleaners” are a reference to the Ick brothers, the janitors from World and USA 3.0.
Carmen is ginger. I have a significant bias for redheads. (I dye my hair red and am only half-joking when I call myself transginger as well as transgender. Heaven on Earth-era Belinda Carlisle is one of my major style rolemodels.) Carmen suddenly being auburn for the first time just makes her even more endearing to me than one would have thought possible. Plus, Ivy and Zack both being redheads? Iconic.
Carmen is also gorgeous. Now, unlike some of you, I have never previously been gay for Carmen; she’s always been more of a big sister figure to me. Instead, as a kid, I was gay for TV!Jacqueline Hyde, Ann Tikwittee, and Ivy, in that chronological order. But the moment I saw this Carmen with her hair up in the trailer, I was a goner. And in her cocktail dress at the charity auction, or her black catsuit at the end of episode 9? I thirst. There were several other points as well where I was just like, “Oh my god, she’s so pretty.” Yes, darlings, I am very gay.
That choker. Most fashionable thing Carmen’s ever worn. Fight me. We love a stylish queen.
Player has a fidget spinner. And it’s only seen briefly, which to me says it’s an everyday part of his life, not something they threw in to try to seem cool... Which in turn allows me to point to something and headcanon that Player is autistic. He’s also known mostly by a username, and spends most of his time working on his special interest, and doesn’t seem to be one for socializing in traditional ways. We love an autistic prince. (Also, this makes him in some ways a male version of my girl Futaba from Persona 5. Again, iconic.)
(To be clear, especially since it wasn’t in my little self-introduction the other day, I’m self-diagnosed on the autism spectrum. So well-written characters being autistic is really fun for me.)
Player is from Niagara Falls, near where I live (I’m on the outer edges of the Buffalo/Niagara Falls MSA), while Zack and Ivy are from Boston, where I’m moving next month. Totally personal to me, but I’m so delighted. Now, granted, Player is on the Ontario side of the Falls rather than the New York side, but still. (Hell, who can blame him for not living in Niagara Falls, NY? It’s a hellhole.)
The VILE leaders stay iconic. Countess Cleo’s crush on Zack in his “Duke” guise is hilarious and adorable, and Dr. Bellum’s obsession with cat videos? Legends only.
Paper Star is generally fantastic. It’s actually too bad for me she’s a villain, because I find her super likeable. Her tendency to hum/sing to herself is also really endearing, and she’s another one who’s easy to headcanon as neurodivergent. I really hope we get more of her, and more of her outside combat and the daily business of villainery, because she’s easily my favorite of the VILE crew.
Tigress is also awesome. Yeah, the female character bias is real, but she’s def my second-favorite, which amplifies my annoyance at the aforementioned misogyny. To be honest, though, part of it may be that she’s basically Amanda Evert, my girlfriend from - you guessed it, folks! - Tomb Raider: Legend, with purple lipstick.
Zack and Ivy met Carmen while casing a donut shop. This is so delightfully silly, and I adore it. Like, who the fuck robs a donut shop of all things? I feel like it could’ve been a reference to them being fat, maybe one that was meant to be developed further but ended up on the cutting room floor? On that note...
The fat positivity is real. Zack and Ivy are still able to move around and are even somewhat athletic; the Countess crushes on Zack; and nothing negative is said about their weight (except the potential implications of the donut shop). I love this.
Carmen and Jules’ conversation. As I said above, it’s not enough for me to start shipping them, but I love that Carmen casually addresses her as Jules rather than Julia. It’s so much like when people I don’t know well call me Soph instead of Sophie, which I always love because it connotes that closeness. Moreover, since Julia’s previous incarnation / namesake was almost always called Jules, and was Carmen’s former detective partner, I feel like there’s an implication that Carmen coined that nickname and it became her primary moniker. It’s just so good, and shipping or no shipping, I really hope we get more interactions between them next season.
The voices are good... mostly. Maelstrom is definitely the one I was most impressed with, as his voice has a lot of character while still being easy to understand. Liam O’Brien was doing a great Tim Curry impression there, but much less egregiously campy and therefore more believable. Sharon Muthu was also fantastic as Dr. Bellum - not as fantastic as WOEICS!Sara’s voice actor (Candi Milo?), but then, who could be? And Kari Wahlgren’s performance as Tigress was snarly perfection.
Gina Rodriguez is a big departure from Carmen’s typically low-pitched voice, but she’s perfectly fine. I never sat up and went, “Wow, what a performance!” but I can’t find any fault with it either. Finn Wolfhard as Player is obviously cross-promotional stunt casting, but surprisingly, it’s also perfect casting.
On the minus side... Zack and Ivy. Part of it is that their accents are so ridiculous that it’s distracting (see above Tim Curry comment). Part of it is that, at least to my ears, the accents aren’t believable - I thought they were supposed to be from Brooklyn until they mentioned Boston. I actually don’t fault the VAs for this, as they both have moments where I got the sense they’d be capable VAs for the characters (and I know Abby Trott is talented as I loved her in Tales of Berseria and Nier: Automata), but rather the voice director(s) who pushed them toward those performances. I feel like if the direction had been different, I’d have liked Zack and Ivy a lot more.
That plot twist. I truly never saw it coming. I suspected that Coach Brunt was not, in fact, the one who found Carmen, but I’d actually thought it might have been Prof. Maelstrom. The extent of Shadowsan’s revelations was a big surprise to me. Kudos to the writers for pulling that off.
Conclusion:
It’s not the series I expected. It’s not the series I hoped for. But it is one that I enjoyed, both on its own merits and for revitalizing the franchise. As I said last night, it is a hell of a feeling to have new Carmen content in 2019 (that’s actually getting attention), and for it to be really good content is a relief.
If anyone else wants to share their thoughts, either one-on-one or with the rest of the community (as it were), please do! I’d love to talk more about this series and this franchise and the thieving queen of my heart, Ms. Carmen Sandiego.
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Hope Springs Eternal Part One
I shivered
palpably in response to the stimulus of this auspicious winter morning as though I were a nervous acolyte on his first day of probation.
It was that benchmark event called my Birthday.
Like Christmas and Easter they have this annular ring in every sense.
Dates and their import. I was raised to have the healthiest respect for them.
A rendezvous of another kind awaited me later in the day that was seasonal in another sense.
But that just added a certain spring to my step.
Entering my eight decade on earth I dragged that motley crew of bones about me.
Like a hod carrier carting clusters of smokeless polish coal for some imperious client.
But the mind has immense powers waiting to be tapped.
A mineral rich load, a vein of resources with targeted thoughts that were the match for any prescription medicine.
Age is but a number and they can be sung in harmony with one’s universe or jarringly and at odds.
I’m a late in life poet with lines very gingerly crafted at this point in time.
My aunt Virginia who raised me when my mother died started the revolution in my thinking.
“Your mind should be a diary.
Always take note of what’s happening around you and when it happened.
Time, dates, everything.
It always comes in useful.”
She said in that nuanced tonic sol fa accent of hers.
Virginia instilled in me this most functional regard for which I am eternally grateful.
Her words about dates and time echoed continually through the recesses of mind to my ultimate benefit.
I had the required notepad and pen at hand to record anything I could sculpt into a creative ode.
As of yet
a title eluded me but maybe something lustrous, radiant romantic would be apt.
Quite a lot has been composed already much to my surprise.
Virginia’s advice and the embryonic epic planted fertile shoots in my head as I entered the kitchen.
I called it my domain.
Structured in an algebraic fashion with proximity dovetailing elegance it resembled a gallery.
The sink and shrouded tap heads my first port of call.
Stooping over archly I filled a gleaming white plastic jug kettle for that morale boosting first cup of tea.
As I sipped my tea the insights Virginia kindly bequeathed started flooding back.
Those condensed pearls of wisdom regarding time and it’s ambience.
Optimism and cheer were her other passions.
As well as paying attention.
“Focus on your environment. There is joy in abundance.” Virginia opined.
“A treasure trove awaits for those who concentrate.” She said.
“Where there is joy there’s hope.
Time and hope are intertwined.”
Never losing a chance to stress matters time-related.
Typical Virginia logic.
I’m taking it more seriously now as my respect for that statute of limitations called life expectancy approaches.
This lady’s pointers were manfully ingested as my tea stained cup wobbled in my right hand with it's rivulet of veins.
The tea leaves scattered wildly in that microcosm of a drinking vessel had a fleeting fascination for me.
But as I scanned my surroundings with the eye of a keyhole surgeon I couldn't help but notice something else.
The kaleidoscope of colour filling the french panel window in front of the kitchen sink.
Window drabness red carded with the zeal of a strict umpire dismissing an offending player.
My intuition told me to brace myself for events both surprising and anticipated .
This afternoon’s engagement is to the forefront of my mind and for good reason.
Think I’ll leave the cell phone behind.
Or did I hear it go off?
My device was of the more crowded cumbersome type with stubborn square buttons that even the more dexterous hand would find difficult to navigate.
The fingers slipped involuntarily like I sometimes did on those treacherous black ice patches.
“It’ll wait. Can’t really be that important.” I said to myself.
It was one of those phones that emitted this discordant buzz when some arrant nuisance rings at the most inopportune time which is often.
“No … face the morning and it’s canvas of brittle prospect.” Speaking with eloquent pride to myself, Hamilton Lake.
Walking outside on this my 78th birthday could be seen as an obstacle course.
I've always had a thing about posture.
The feet must be properly positioned and ready for anything unexpected.
The steps from my house could be awkward and angular with hidden crevices.
Those rugged pockmarks gouged out by the chisel of that tyrant called the elements
The inherent beauty of garden plants, on the other hand,
purged whatever sluggishness there was in my frame.
Their spectral tint and gravity defying droop gave my eyes an optic fillip.
Green border shrubs and yellow rose petals bore a magic that defied description.
Albeit with telltale winter stains.
But the mindfulness of gait and knowing that slippage could be fatal moderated my enthusiasm about my settings.
Onto the yard and then the slope towards town with a propensity for the occasional wobble notwithstanding.
A downward denouement laced with grit and optimism.
The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered with tufts of flickering grass cavorting about in a light south east breeze.
Haywire brambles whose overlapping tentacles were embedded in every mound or patch.
Star shaped brown leaves as veiled cover for those sharp spines sticking out.
The bane of every bulging blood vessel.
An ice clad descent that can either capsize or upend even the most determined stride.
Ice that most deceptive gloss that far too easily masks it’s latent perils.
Irrespective I continued unabashed.
The heart, portent of fragility, bruising barometer of one’s twilight moment can be an ally.
A motivator of noble human impulse.
My rainbow tipped walking stick was my elder compass.
A bearing locator for crazy paving pavement slabs.
Those structures fractured by peculiarities of sudden temperature with their plummets and summits!
But focus though impaired was motivated by a stoic forbearance imbued with fire in the soul.
Virginia’s velvet toned voice enjoined on us at home to watch the clouds.
The wispy contours, greyed over forms, wooly frills and outlines drifting overhead.
She also warned of their penchant for unleashing torrents which could spoil the daily strolls of even the most ernest of ramblers.
Today the clouds weaved their way across that azure blue path called the sky.
Curiously enough the self same clouds added to their repertoire by the graceful skirting of rooftops and faraway rock formations on the outskirts of town.
“Clouds are a heavenly canvas. A floating exhibit of the firmament.
They inspire poets, works of art.” Virginia said.
They were doing just that in my case with aplomb.
“The planned mysterious link up was never lost sight of amid Virginia’s majestic musings.
Use your imagination or your imagination will use you. The borders between make belief and the real world must always be maintained.
Imaginings of every kind can be triggered by just about anything familiar.
They can assume a life of their own.”
Wonderful counsel from a wonderful woman.
Virginia, however, unlike some philosophers had a marvelous sense of humor but abhorred the canned, corny variety.
Although such humor couldn't always be avoided I was mindful of her sensitivity on the subject.
Meticulously taking out that pad again I scribbled a few more lines.
It’s beginning to fill up.
The only thing that remains is to have someone to dedicate it to.
The human eye, a person’s best camera turned to the leach like ivy carpet which clung with tenacity to the grey grained stone wall narrowly to my right.
Preserving their corporeal integrity and playing their part while going largely unobserved.
Fir trees, enclosed by pavement railings and gardens had an overwhelming stillness about them.
An unyielding rooted presence.
They too are age defiant when cultivated and getting the right supports.
These trees act as filters for the dust, smoke and fumed manifestations of the modern manufacturer.
Urban heat island effect offset and mitigated.
All these details forensically noted.
A sudden wakening ensued.
“Hi there, Hamilton. Lovely morning for a stroll.”
My inner space rightly interrupted for a different reality.
“Maybe we’ll meet later at one of your favourite spots or a coffee shop.”
Local teens, Sonia and Winfred with whom I regularly crossed paths and swopped pleasantries of a deeper heartfelt kind.
They alighted from their bicycles.
“It’s your birthday today isn’t it?
You’d put people half your age and mine to shame.” The young lady Sonia said.
Winfred her boyfriend agreed.
“Such generosity I rarely encountered from my own group.” I thought to myself.
Sonia, a vibrant vivacious youth whose tactful airborne words shone as brightly as her arched angelic face.
Winfred, her boyfriend had a slightly bulging chin and matted haired that looked as if it had been constantly drenched.
His was a handsomeness harrowed out by high jinx and crack of dawn capers.
After a friendly departure this couple dashed off with a daring and delight so dirigere of the young.
As well as the young at heart.
Photograph and short story copyright protected by mantrabay
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Challenge Time!
I get asked often, “How do you come up with a title?”
The answer: I HAVE NO IDEA.
So, let’s have a little challenge, shall we?
Below, are 60 amazing Titles thought up by yours truly. Some are songs you might recognize, or quotes, some are just me being wordy. Your challenge: Pick a Title from the list and write a fic to go along with it!
Rules and Titles are below the cut, let’s make some magic!
THE RULES:
Be following me. I’m fairly entertaining, so I don’t think you’ll regret it. And, it’s just nice.
Pick a title and send me an ASK with your choice AND a backup. There is a one fic per title max, but you may do more than one title should the mood strike you. (once it is picked, I will cross it off the list, so check before you ask)
Fics are to be SPN reader insert (no ships please unless it’s Sam x Beka or Dean x Beka. obvs.)
For this challenge you may write: Sam/Jared or Dean/Jensen.
Fics must be a ONE SHOT. You may continue it as a series after this one, that’s up to you, but I’m not gonna read 239472 chapters first for this to make sense. I have a short attention span.
Please try to keep it under/around 3k words. Again, shot attention span.
If you go over 500 words, you must use a KEEP READING or I will NOT reblog it.
You need to use the title exactly.
You need to put in your a/n that this is for my challenge, and please TAG ME IN THE A/N so I see it. With tumblr’s new activity, I miss a lot.
That being said, if you have not seen a “like” from @impaladreamers-mainfrigginblog within 4 days, you need to submit the link to me, as the tag was lost. I will like and reblog everything with a comment. If I have not, I haven’t seen it.
You can write: Crack, Smut, Fluff, Angst, whatever floats your boat, just please tag warnings appropriately.
Please use #dreamer’s title challenge in the first few tags.
Any questions? Lemme know.
Deadline is January 2, 2018. Why? Because I said so. That’s a ton of time. ;)
Be creative! Be adventurous! Have fun!
THE TITLES:
Just Another Tuesday @revwinchester
Not Without My Brother @fangirlofeverythingme
That’s My Girl - @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son
Feels Like Heaven @amanda-teaches
I Won’t Back Down @dragonchica
It’s A Gift @queen-of-deans-booty
Born Under A Bad Sign @freakinflannel
Not All Black and White @plaidstiel-wormstache
The Comfort of Your Arms @oneshoeshort
Sitting, Waiting, Wishing @sofreddie
Live To Fight Another Day @whispersandwhiskerburn
In Your Eyes @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba
Everything and Nothing @triciareh
All I Can Give @because-imma-lady-assface
You Should Have Called @chumi-la-chula
The Darkness Inside @torn-and-frayed
Falling Like The Leaves @trexrambling
Thank You @angelicdemonicwaitress
You Can’t Be Serious @squirrel-moose-winchester
In My Dreams @fandommaniacx
Can’t Fight This Feeling @yellowtheremarvelfan
Then I Saw Her Face @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester
The Hardest Thing @casifrr
Castaway @deanandsamsbitch
Walking Away @grace-for-sale
Goodnight, Not Goodbye @pheonyxstorm
Early Morning Rain @latishiante1001
Devil In Disguise @notnaturalanahi
Mostly Harmless @acreativelydifferentlove
A Thousand Reasons @just-another-winchester
That First Moment @bringmesomepie56
Thicker Than Water @crispychrissy
Something In The Way She Moves @obsessivecompulsivespn
Never Again @mrspadalackles
Heart of Gold @there-must-be-a-lock
Leather, Whiskey, and Heartache @a-winchester-fairytale
Tools of the Trade @rockerdestiel13
Just Don’t Break My Heart @docharleythegeekqueen
Cracks In The Mirror @carryonmywaywardcaptain
Sundays Are For Lovers @impalaimagining
Starry Night @emoryhemsworth
Two Brothers, One Choice @chelsea072498
Here Comes The Sun @ellen-reincarnated1967
Open Arms @fandomoniumflurry
What He Needs @mysteriously-lost
Another Apocalypse
Ashes to Ashes @justme-noonebutme
Not My Problem @kdfrqqg
The Last Straw @feelinthefanfiction
Suspicious Minds @georgialouisea
The Way You Look Tonight @hannahindie
Incredible
It’s In His Kiss @deanssweetheart23
Graveyard Love Song @please-lives-are-at-stake
Wild World
True Colors @be-fantastic
Green Eyes @evansrogerskitten
Won’t Say I Love You @writer-picks-the-music
Nothing Else Matters @canadianjelly
One Hand, One Heart
Crack Bonus Titles: (If you can use these, you win extra cookies)
C1. That’s Not My Foot @newtospnfandom
C2. Like A Hole In The Head @hannasakorax3
C3. Bitch, Please @percussiongirl2017
C4. Melts In Your Mouth, Not Your Hand @cassieraider
C5. Sam Loves Beka @hillywooddestiel
C6. The Crazy Christmas Sweater @superwholockmarauder
C7. How Many Licks? @jayankles
C8. The Great Muppet Caper @impala-dreamer
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My 10 Favourite Games Of 2017
This list was originally posted on the forum Resetera, but I felt like putting it up here too, with a little more insight into why I liked these games so much, and so they don’t get lost in the muddle of forum posts. Enjoy!
10. Snake Pass (Sumo Digital; Nintendo Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)
Sumo Digital has been a developer I've admired for years, particularly for their work on the Nintendo-tier kart racer Sonic & All-Stars Racing Transformed. Snake Pass is their first independently-produced title, and it has a great hook - the player controls a snake in much the same manner as a real snake might move. There's no jump button, no Earthworm Jim spacesuit, just the power to raise one's head and the strength to grip tightly to any object you've coiled around. There's no timer or enemies; Snake Pass is content to let you explore its levels at your own pace, letting you getting used to its unique feeling and take in the calming David Wise soundtrack. It's a game that feels like learning to ride a bike again, and the progression in ability over time is such a pleasing sensation that it earns it its place on this list by itself. The good use of collectables and generous helping of levels is icing on the cake.
9. Wolfenstein 2: The New Colossus (MachineGames; PS4, Xbox One, PC)
B.J. Blazkowicz returns and he's lost all meaning of subtlety whilst he's been out of action. Wolfenstein 2 shoots all of its shots - the action is bloody, explosive carnage, and the subject matter isn't satisfied with just skewering Nazi idiocy and narcissism, taking time to shine a light on White America's love affair with sitting back and reaping the rewards of compliance under fascist rule. Whether it's exploring B.J.'s broken psyche, giving Wyatt a crash course on hallucinogenics or putting you under the spotlight in a terrifying audition, MachineGames refuse to pull their punches, each great moment coming swinging like B.J.'s Nazi-reprimanding fireaxe. The combat encounters are far from polished, with stealth being heavily nerfed from The New Order and the half-way shift in tone from borderline-satirical diatribe on mortality and American race relations to comic-book capers is incredibly stodgy, but Wolfenstein 2 leaves a hell of an impression all the same. Shame about that credits music.
8. Gorogoa (Jason Roberts; PC, iOS, Nintendo Switch)
A good puzzle game can make a really strong impression, guiding you subtly by the hand to make you feel like a member of MENSA just for pressing a few buttons or prodding at a screen. With Gorogoa, I can't even begin to describe how the puzzles actually work. Imagine a window segmented with 4 panes of glass, and now imagine you can drag elements out of those panes and into other panes, or over where there isn't a pane to create a new pane... See, it’s hard! In as simple terms as I can muster, it’s a game about taking the world apart and putting it back together again to create paths and progress for your anonymous young hero. It’s intensely abstract, yet the South Asian aesthetic feels like a living locale, an exploration of a boy's days-to-come. It's a short experience, but with each puzzle solved making me feeling smarter than Albert god damn Einstein, it's one that will stick with me for a long time.
7. Splatoon 2 (Nintendo EPD; Nintendo Switch)
Like pretty much everyone, I didn't own a Wii U, but the sting of that decision never really happened until the arrival of Splatoon - Nintendo's first proper new "core" universe since what felt like Pikmin. It instantly looked like sheer fun - and as a big fan of both Jet Set Radio and The World Ends With You, it was clear as day Nintendo's younger designers were picking up the Shibuya fashion torch those games dropped behind them. Put simply, it's totally my shit. Splatoon 2 confirms my suspicions and then some, being the first multiplayer title I've enjoyed online in forever. I can't get enough of the soundtrack, the sound effects, the amazingly catty banter between Pearl and Marina, and just the feeling of dropping into ink, strafing around a sucker and blasting them straight between the eyeballs with my N-ZAP '85. 20% of Switch owners in the US can't be wrong.
6. Yakuza 0 (SEGA; PS4)
The only games I've played previously by SEGA's Toshihiro Nagoshi are the brilliant arcade/Gamecube bangers F-Zero GX and Super Monkey Ball 2, plus his one-off PS3 sci-fi shooter Binary Domain. Loving those 3 wacky games, I always felt a little put-off by his regular gig nowadays being a series about Japan's most decorated crime organisation, and a bare-knuckle brawler at that. Yakuza 0, the 80s-set series prequel that serves as a perfect entry point for series newcomers, proved my suspicions ill-founded. It's a game which instantly casts the majority of the yakuza as control freaks and bullies, pits its protagonists Kiryu and Majima as their unfounded targets and pawns... and then lets you fight your way out of hell via brutal finishing moves, bizarrely complex business management sidequests and, if you're so inclined, a gun shaped like a giant fish. It's that kind of game that always keeps you guessing whether or not you should take it seriously, and so it wins you over with its best-in-class action choreography, astonishingly good direction and a never-ending deluge of sidequests, minigames and challenges. Don't sleep on Kamurocho.
5. Sonic Mania (SEGA/Christian Whitehead/Headcannon/PagodaWest Games; Nintendo Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)
If you’re reading this, you probably know I'm a Sonic apologist. I don't really stand by the 3D entries - bar Sonic Generations, which I genuinely love - but the narrative that "Sonic was never good" is some ridiculous meme that I can't stand. They were genuinely fun games, albeit far from perfect; every game can use some improvement. Sonic Mania is that improvement, spinning the level themes and gimmicks from the original Mega Drive (and Mega CD) games into vast new forms, with myraid routes, tons of secrets, an astonishing sense of speed from beginning to end and fairer, more agreeable, more exciting level design. Old locales, new levels - oh, and some new locales as well, one of which (Studiopolis Zone) is an instant classic. 16:9 presentation, all new animations and crazy levels of animation detail, and a mind-blowing soundtrack by Tee Lopes - Sonic Mania is the perfect Sonic game.
4. NieR: Automata (Square Enix/PlatinumGames; PS4, PC)
For my first foray into the sunken mind of Yoko Taro, he couldn't have left a better impression. NieR: Automata uses Platinum's engaging-at-worst, thrilling-at-best melee combat as the language to tell his new story of how pointless it is for anyone to even bother throwing themselves after ideals of society or humanity, and why it's worth trying all the same. Every inch of this game feels crusted in Taro’s sensibilities, with the no-bullshit 2B and her curious whiny partner 9S running into robots waving white flags, avenging fallen comrades, establishing monarchies, throwing themselves to their deaths, and coming to terms with their crumbling existence in apocalypse. It's crushing, it's raw, it's often dull, but its uniquely bleak vision of AIs breaking free of their programming has a grip as powerful as a Terminator's. And when it’s ready to let you go, it has you send it off with the most memorable credits sequence in history. Glory to Yoko Taro, glory to PlatinumGames - glory to mankind.
3. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Nintendo EPD; Nintendo Switch, Wii U)
Standing in the centre of a bridge connecting Hyrule’s broad, emerald green fields to the desert mountain approach, a bridge overlooking the still Lake Hylia, I fire an arrow into a lizard bastard’s head, or at least I try to. He dodges it and rushes me, forcing me to jump away and retaliate with my claymore. Out for the count, I resume looking for the lost Zora wife I’ve been asked to seek out, who apparently washed all the way downstream in a recent downpour. I can’t see any wife - my entire view is dominated by the giant green dragon snaking across the night sky above me. The wind picks up, but I am too awestruck by its presence to take note that I could glide up to it and shoot off a valuable scale. Instead, I just stand and stare, this utterly unexpected moment happening before my eyes. Friend or foe? A boss monster, perhaps? A vital story element later on? The answer ended up being none of the above: in The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, there be dragons, and that fact in and of itself speaks volumes about what this game is about. After 30 years, Hyrule finally feels alive.
2. Night in the Woods (Infinite Fall; PS4, Xbox One, PC, Mac, Linux, Android, iOS)
Very few games instil a genuine emotional response within me, but the story of Mae Borowski's no-fanfare return from college to suburban gloom resonates hard with me. It's an expert at the little touches - the needless-yet-fun triple jump, the not-so-starcrossed rooftop musicians, the impulsive reaction to poke a severed arm with a stick - and woefully precise with its big swings, like an upsetting cross-town party, a wave of violent frustration amongst the townspeople, and the inability to just lay it all on the table with friends and family when you need to most. In the cosmic dreams of shitty teens, Night in the Woods finds an ugly beauty in depression.
1. Super Mario Odyssey (Nintendo EPD; Nintendo Switch)
It’s impossible to deny 2017 has been the year of Nintendo. There’s plenty of celebrate elsewhere, but the Switch’s rise to prominence as the machine to be playing ideally everything on, and the amount of absolute smash hits Nintendo has producing this year makes it hard for the narrative to focus elsewhere. The epitome of all this is their final killer game of 2017: Super Mario Odyssey, the grand return of a more open-ended style of Mario platformer. A true blue achievement in joyous freedom, it brings together everything from Mario's history of 3D platforming - 64's freedom, Sunshine's other-worldliness and sky-high skill ceiling, Galaxy's spectacle, 3D World's razor-sharp platforming challenge - and throws into one big pot, creating a Mario where both the journey and the destination are one and the same, and exciting to the very end. In a year of amazing games that hit upon horrid, upsetting themes with delicate, pinpoint accuracy for tremendous success, I’m not sure whether it’s a shame or an inevitability that such an unapologetically surprising, happy game made the biggest mark on me this year, but either way, I’m welcome to have Mario be truly Super once more.
#goty#2017#splatoon2#super mario odyssey#zelda breath of the wild#yakuza 0#night in the woods#snake pass#sonic mania#gorogoa#wolfenstein#nier automata
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