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partywithponies · 4 years

Note

hi! i've only ever seen the bbc version of father brown and i've never read the books (i know, i'm so sorry), but i'm super curious about the different versions of father brown and you seem like an expert on each adaptation, so i was wondering if you'd be willing to give me a rundown of sorts on each version/series? i know it's a lot to ask and i may be opening the floodgates here, but there's not a ton of info online elsewhere and i'd love to learn more! thanks either way. ciao!

OH BOY YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE ANON

OKAY SO

As briefly as possible:

The books:

Proof people who complain about the BBC show being “too political” don’t actually know the books at all

Father Brown straight up calls capitalism “evil” and “heresy”

Chesterton says that millionaires dying isn’t a tragedy

Inspector Valentin betrayed us and broke my heart, ACAB I guess

Since every police officer he befriends lets him down in some way, Father Brown’s only real friend is Flambeau, who he goes absolutely everywhere with. They only go on holiday with each other. They’ve been all over the world with each other. I love they

Book Father Brown pretty much never does his goddamn job. We literally never in all the books see him giving mass or taking confession. The closest we get is when he gives an impromptu sermon after seemingly coming back from the dead, where he literally only says "You silly, silly people. God bless you all and give you more sense." then runs away to send a telegram. Useless priest. I love him.

Book Flambeau is. Incredible. Amazing. Iconic. None of the adaptations have been able to fully capture book Flambeau’s true energy, for he is a walking contradiction who contains multitudes. If all the onscreen Flambeaus fused into one being, THEN you’d have something vaguely resembling book Flambeau.

Book Flambeau is MASSIVE. He’s at least 6′4, he’s broad shouldered, has huge hands, and his super buff. He can just. Pick people up and throw them. He can knock people unconscious with one punch. He fills doorways when he stands in them. He terrifies most people just by drawing himself up to his full height. He also has a very short temper and a very short patience.

He’s very agile and athletic and can move silently, despite his size. He’s also a master of disguise, somehow. (Explain, Chesterton. Explain. Is everyone in this universe apart from Father Brown, Flambeau, and arguably Valentin massively stupid? Actually don’t answer that I’ve read these books)

Book Flambeau has a habit of flinging people full-bodily down flights of stairs when they anger him or threaten him or Father Brown. Book Flambeau also carries a walking cane with him literally everywhere that has a sword concealed in the handle, plus book Flambeau insists on taking pistols on holiday with him, even when he was just going for a peaceful fishing holiday in the Norfolk Broads. King.

(Which all makes it so iconic that Father Brown, described as tiny and meek and sensitive, saw this man when he was still a hardened criminal on top of all this and said “THIS ONE I LIKE THIS ONE. I JUST THINK HE’S NEAT” and went off on a jolly through London with him.)

Flambeau’s past is extremely mysterious. We no nothing about his family or his childhood or where he’s from or why he turned to crime. We know he used to be a soldier, and a part of him misses it. We know he used to fight duels semi-regularly, and liked them to be fought the very next morning after they were organised. We know he always used to make sure to visit the dentist on time, even when he was a hardened criminal. (King of good teeth.) We know he was in a gang at some point. We know he was a student at some point. We don’t know what he studied, but we know he knew Leonard Quinton in “wild student days in Paris” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). This is literally all we know about his past before he met Father Brown. The man is a riddle wrapped in an enigma. (That’s why Flambeau is so big. He’s full of secrets)

(Fun fact: in the book universe Flambeau is famous and popular in America, so you could say that in universe Flambeau is America’s Favourite Fighting Frenchman.)

Flambeau also loves cats and children, believes in fairies, likes pointing out rocks that look like dragons, and likes giggling and mucking about on the beach with Father Brown. A baby.

One time Father Brown called Flambeau “full of good and pure thoughts”, but I don’t think that’s quite true, Father. I think Father Brown just has endless faith in Flambeau.

Another thing I think is really neat is that it would’ve been so easy to have Father Brown be the genius and Flambeau his dumb muscle sidekick but that’s not the case at all! They’re both geniuses and they’re both each other’s sidekick, and in fact it’s Flambeau who’s the famous professional private detective, Father Brown is just an amateur. Father Brown is often defined by his connection to Flambeau rather than vice versa, both in the text (the text will frequently refer to them as something along the lines of “Flambeau and his friend the priest”, and on two separate occasions a long list of Flambeau’s possessions is ended with “and a priest”), and in universe (Father Brown himself is massively famous in America in universe largely because of “his long connection to Flambeau). I don’t know I just think it’s neat.

One time a man threatened Father Brown with a gun and Flambeau just beat him unconscious and then Father Brown and Flambeau just drove away and left him unconscious on the path. It was awesome.

(I’m sorry I rambled about Flambeau for so many words I just. Really really like Flambeau you guys. Father Brown and Flambeau are like two separate crime drama character tropes, the hard boiled cynical P.I. and the cosy eccentric amateur detective, but together as a double act, and I just think that’s really cool.)

Father Brown himself is if anything even more mysterious. He’s just “Father J. Brown, formerly of Cobhole in Essex, currently London”, and he’s “Flambeau’s friend”, and that’s all. That’s all he needs to be.

I also really really love Father Brown himself. I love that he’s allowed to be cheerful and optimistic and childish without any of this making him less clever, and in fact he’s shown time and time again to be cleverer than grumpy cynics who are scornful of childish things. Like, the whole giggling childlike thing isn’t even some kind of act, he’s a genius who understands true human nature, and he also really really likes puppet shows and building sandcastles who telling fairy stories, he really does get a “childish pleasure” from seeing Flambeau swing his sword-stick, and he really does have “strong personal interest in tomfoolery”. I love him.

I must share my favourite book quote about Father Brown himself: “But neither of them is very like the real Father Brown, who is not broken at all; but goes stumping with his stout umbrella through life, liking most of the people in it; accepting the world as his companion, but never as his judge.” uwu uwu uwu I’m cry.

Chesterton just subverts all the expectations character wise, the cheerful bumbling priest is a genius, the violent criminal is a true hero, the noble police officer is a corrupt self-serving murderer. It’s great. We stan. 10000000/10

(I’m not very good at being brief, am I?)

Father Brown, Detective (1934):

The first movie! It’s completely ridiculous. I love it a lot.

It was released just at the start of Hays Code, which, among other things, stated that crime and immorality should not be glorified or glamourised, and all crime and immorality must be seen to be punished by the end of the film. In practice in the case of this film, this means two things:

Paul Lukas!Flambeau is the only Flambeau to actually go to prison (and stay there).

He’s by far the Flambeau who deserves it the least. Lukas!Flambeau never hurt a soul. He just wanted to be loved. #FreeMyBoyHercule

Okay but in all seriousness. There’s a reason I call Paul Lukas!Flambeau “Himbo Flambeau”. Where other Flambeaus are violent or dangerous or geniuses, Lukas!Flambeau is just a big dumb idiot who respects women and has a great sense of humour and writes all his letters in the third person like Elmo for some reason. I would die for him.

At one point Flambeau in disguise is talking to the police, and when the police criticise Flambeau, disguised Flambeau says “Oh but I assure! I have read many things about this Flambeau! He is a fearless, handsome fellow!” The absolute idiot. I adore him with my whole heart.

The film is set in London, like the books, but an idealised Hollywood version of London, i.e., almost entirely unlike London.

Walter Connolly!Father Brown is also entirely lacking in braincells. Look at these two idiot men:

I love them.

Oh oh! And the most important thing, the thing that carries over into most other adaptations? NEW ORIGINAL CHARACTERS!!

This movie invents a few characters that weren’t in the books, but the most important ones are Mrs Boggs:

She doesn’t really add much to the plot but she’s funny and I love her so I’ll forgive it.

She’s Father Brown’s housekeeper, she’s basically just the fussing maternal female character archetype who fusses around in the background, but she does it well and plays it with charm so I’ll allow it.

(Honestly this whole film is just. Not *technically* good or original, but just so charming and with so much heart that I unironically adore it.)

She tries to make Father Brown drink his milk because it’s good for him even though he doesn’t like it, and keeps checking back in on him to make sure he’s drunk it, it’s literally like a mother and her small child.

She objects to policemen in the presbytery because of their “big muddy boots on the carpet” but is fine with just letting Flambeau in whenever despite the prevailing rumour in London being that Flambeau killed a man. We stan a queen of having priorities.

When Inspector Valentine summons Father Brown to the station, Mrs Boggs pops up in the background, assumes Father Brown’s being arrested, and says “Oh dear, I knew it!” and it makes me giggle like an idiot every time.

The other, more important original character invented for this movie is my girl Evelyn Fischer:

I love her, I would die for her, she’s flawless.

She’s basically your typical bored and rebellious young aristocrat, but she has a chaotic streak that I adore.

She sneaks out of her family’s mansion to go to a seedy underground club/illegal gambling ring in Soho (I mean I assume it’s Soho, a seedy part of London in that general vicinity, at least. I’m not about to get bogged down trying to understand the geography of London according to Hollywood), flirts with a bunch of strangers for fun, then when the police raid the place and everyone else is panicking she stands stock still, cheerfully says “Oh goody, I shall probably get my name in the papers!” and has to be physically dragged out of the building by Flambeau.

Later on Flambeau breaks into her bedroom in the middle of the night and she’s just very calmly like “What are you doing?”, and even when she finds out it’s Flambeau, a man widely believed to be dangerous and violent, instead of being scared, she calls him an idiot right to his face.

She forms the third part of the main trio of the movie with Father Brown and Flambeau (RIP to Valentine, demoted to tertiary character in a loose adaptation of the one (1) story where he was the main character lol) and together the three of them share a single braincell and have to take turns with it, while Mrs Boggs fusses in the background at the trio’s increasingly bonkers decisions.

The movie ends with Father Brown and Evelyn sharing an emotional farewell with Flambeau through the window of a police car and promising to look after each other until Flambeau’s released, wow poly rights.

The Adventures of Father Brown (1945):

The adaptation there’s the least amount of information about, but I’ve done my best to find everything I can find on it.

An American radio show made towards the end of wartime, it’s a bit of an odd one, and believe me Father Brown adaptations have gone some odd places.

Only two episodes survive, or at least if more do survive then whoever has them is being very selfish and hoarding them to themselves because only two episodes are publicly available anywhere, and the audio quality of those is a bit dodge. (Though that is to be expected, they do appear to be home recordings, from 1945. Honestly we should be grateful to even have two full episodes.)

If the actors I’ve found are the right people, this show featured by far the youngest Father Brown and Flambeau, at the start of the show the actor playing Father Brown was only 36 and the actor playing Flambeau was only 27. They’re BABIES. (Honestly I’d like to see more age variation in Father Brown adaptations, as I have extensively rambled about before, the characters have literally no canon ages in the books, I think people ought to be a little more imaginative instead of always building on the adaptations that came before, even if it is really cool to see traces of all the previous adaptations in each new one that comes along. It’s something I haven’t noticed as much in adaptations of other golden age detective novels, but the Father Brown adaptations do seem to be stuck in some kind of game of “yes, AND” with each other. I would REALLY like to see an adaptation where Flambeau is older than Father Brown though, it's just something we've never had before despite there being literally nothing in the books to suggest this can't be the case, and I just think it'd be neat.)

This show is really really painfully American, in a real old fashioned "golly gee whizz mister" kind of way, to the point it almost feels like a parody, and I honestly find it kind of endearing.

Even Flambeau frequently slips into a very American accent to the point that my affectionate nickname for him is "The All-American Flambeau", and it's great. He's great.

Honestly I could accept the accents and the slang, for some reason the only thing that really threw me was Father Brown referring to money in cents and nickels.

Needless to say, this adaptation is not set in London. It is instead set in Generic Unspecified Smalltown USA. It's fine. This is fine. I already have so many films and shows set in London, I can swallow my London pride and let America have this.

It's hard to get a real grasp on characters from just two episodes, but I like this Father Brown and Flambeau, even if they are a little overly serious, and even if Flambeau doesn't really do much. He may be a bit serious and a bit useless but All-American Flambeau stays up late anxiously waiting for Father Brown to get home safely and it's very sweet. What a good boy.

All-American Flambeau also carries handcuffs around with him for some reason? But no weapons? Why is All-American Flambeau one of the few Flambeaus not to have a gun? Oh well, he's still sweet.

The 1945 radio show also gives us some original characters, but they're very much side characters and not part of the main plot and it's very hard to get a good grasp on a character from just a few minutes of audio from just two episodes but here's what I could gather:

Nora is another fussing housekeeper! She seems younger and less maternal than Mrs Boggs, but I don't know if that's just because the whole cast was on the younger side. (Could the radio station not find anyone over the age of 40? Were they in short supply in 1945 or something? Ah well.) She seems dedicated to helping Father Brown get some peace and quiet that he never goddamn gets because someone always goes and gets themselves murdered. In both surviving episodes a knock at the door disturbs Father Brown’s rest, Nora opens it professionally, sees it's Flambeau, and immediately drops the professionalism and is immediately like "oh it's only you", so I can only assume every episode started this way. I do hope so.

Father Peter is a junior priest who answers to Father Brown and takes over his duties on his days off. He's implied by the dialogue to be considerably younger than Father Brown, Nora, and Flambeau, but if their actors are anything to go by then they're not that old themselves, and though Father Brown seems to talk to Father Peter like he's a literal child, he is still a priest so I very much doubt that's the case. He seems sweet and harmless, but he's only in one of the surviving episodes and only in that towards the end and mentioned briefly at the start, so it's hard to judge completely. It's highly unlikely that the reason he's not even mentioned in the later surviving episode is because he turned out to secretly be an evil murderer, but, this being a Father Brown adaptation, not entirely unfounded. (But no, he's probably just a sweet boy who exists to have exposition delivered to him.)

Father Brown/The Detective (1954):

The Alec Guinness movie! The one haters of any of the other adaptations complain that adaptation isn't more like, but in my humble opinion, actually the worst adaptation.

Like, I don't hate it! The cast is mostly stellar actors and if I just saw it as a movie on its own, it'd probably be fine. But as a Father Brown adaptation watched in context of the books and the other adaptations, it has a few issues imo.

Most glaringly it has Tone Issues. This film cannot decide if it's a comedy or not. The original posters certainly marketed it as one (see above) and half the cast are noted comic actors who were famous at the time for comedy, goddamn SID JAMES is in it, but the entire third act is played painfully straight, half the cast is mugging for the camera and trying way too hard to be funny while the other cast is giving extremely serious and subtle performances, like. I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for laughs, and I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for drama, both can work beautifully, but just PICK ONE, PLEASE

All of my other gripes with the film are very petty and nitpicky, this film calls Father Brown and Flambeau "Ignatius Brown" and "Gustav Flambeau" even though Father Brown has the canon first initial "J" and Flambeau has the canon first name "Hercule", and I hate it a lot. "Ignatius and Gustav" is the second worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

My other petty nitpick with the movie is that it makes Flambeau literal nobility. The man is a duke. In my opinion Flambeau should always either have a completely mysterious past or be a nobody who came from nothing, someone who grew up with land and title and many servants and a family coat of arms, living in a whole entire castle with his family name and coat of arms engraved into the side of it, growing up and stealing from people, is a whole lot less sympathetic in my opinion. Like to be fair his parents are dead which is sad I guess and his castle has seen better days, but dude. You still own a castle. People who live in castles do not get to lecture other people about materialism.

THAT SAID, Peter Finch is still the best thing about the movie. I love all Flambeaus dearly, even the ones that are little bitches. He’s a bit of an emo “oh woe is me” sadboy, but he’s very charming, and actually good at disguises and being undercover, get dunked on Lukas!Flambeau.

Guinness!Brown likes to feed ducks and Flambeau calls him “the angel with the flaming umbrella”, which makes my inner Good Omens fan who loves finding parallels between Aziraphale & Crowley and Father Brown & Flambeau go 👀

There is one really good scene, in the Paris Catacombs. And by “good” I mean “really really bafflingly gay”:

I truly, truly do not understand how this scene was written, directed, acted, filmed, and edited without ANYONE saying “hey lads does this seem a bit gay to you?”

Father Brown, literally lying on top of Flambeau and pinning him to the ground, whispering: “I would like to set you free.” Flambeau, softly, gently smiling while his face is literal inches away from Father Brown, who is still pinning him to the ground: “Ah, now I begin to understand what you are.”

What the fuck, you guys. What the entire fuck. This scene keeps me up at night.

ANYWAY

This film is also not set in London. It is instead mostly set in a rural English village, and partially in Paris and partially in rural France. Paris is fun but I miss London.

This film also has some original characters. I should probably talk about them.

This is Lady Warren:

She’s Father Brown’s friend, and she’s a Lady, and that’s all I can really tell you.

She’s very well-mannered and dignified and sophisticated.

She gives me the vibe that she exists solely because the writers decided they needed a female character but then remembered at the last minute they had no idea how to write women, so as a result she is almost entirely irrelevant to the plot. I don’t want to say I don’t like her, because she’s done nothing wrong and it’s not her fault, but like. Why is she here? Poor thing, she deserved to be plot-relevant, really.

She lives in a big mansion and owns some very nice things, and she gets annoyed when she invites Father Brown to lunch but he just stares blankly into space thinking about Flambeau the whole time. (Mood honestly FB. Me too.)

She flirts a bit with Flambeau in one very pointless scene that came the hell out of nowhere, went nowhere, and was never mentioned again. It was like the writers realised how gay the previous Flambeau scene was and suddenly tried to convince me this man is a hetero. Nice try, writers. You can’t fool me that easily.

The other main original character is Bert:

Alright, own up, whose bright idea was it to put Sid James in a Father Brown movie?

Bert is a smalltime criminal who’s a friend of Father Brown, who Father Brown protects from the police, but tries to convince to get on the straight and narrow by getting him as a job as Lady Warren’s chauffer.

This is would be fine, were it not for the fact he’s played by Sid James, who only knows how to play Sid James, and is just Sid Jamesing it up in every scene. I don’t have anything against Sid James. I like my fair share of Carry On films. But Sid James does not belong in Father Brown and I want to fight whoever decided he did.

Father Brown (1974):

LADS LADS LADS! It’s time for the first TV show, and it’s time for my favourite boys:

Oh! OH! How I love Kenneth More!Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau. They’re just. So cute. My two special boys.

Not only that, but LADS! We’re finally back in London!

A gritty, dirty, London in the 1930s no less, with cool London buses and political unrest and grimy pubs and the constant threat of world war. Alexa this is so cool play London Calling.

In one episode Flambeau gets verbally abused by an anti-immigration right-wing zealot. :( My poor boy. :(

(But it’s okay, shortly after Father Brown witnesses this, the racist shows up dead in exactly the place Father Brown earlier said would be a good place to commit a murder. Now I’m not accusing Father Brown of murder, BUT)

This show made the bold but valid decision to skip Flambeau’s redemption arc and start the show when Flambeau is already a seasoned and respected private detective who’s lived in London and been Father Brown’s closest friend for many years. As a result this Father Brown and Flambeau are ridiculously domestic with each other. Look at this peak Old Married Couple energy:

Oh! I just love them.

I would love to know how Burgess!Flambeau’s redemption went down though, because Burgess!Flambeau is BY FAR the least repentant of all the reformed Flambeaus. He proudly boasts about his crimes, he still believes he “deserved to succeed”, he still proudly talks about how “daring and outrageous” he was, which begs the question of why did he stop at all? Literally the only explanation I can think of is that he’s literally only doing this for Father Brown’s sake, which. uwu

Oh GOD I love Burgess!Flambeau. Obviously I love all Flambeaus a lot, and choosing a favourite feels like choosing a favourite child, but let’s just say: if the Flambeaus WERE my children, Burgess!Flambeau would be quite spoilt. My ~ Daring And Outrageous ~ boy.

More!Brown and Burgess!Flambeau are both really really socially awkward, uncomfortable in crowds, and nervously say “oh dear” a lot. They really are ridiculously cute.

They also only giggle and joke and act silly when they’re together, when they’re apart they’re both sort of sad and quiet and withdrawn. (This makes episodes Flambeau isn’t in a bit harder to watch because Father Brown is just kind of lost and lonely without his emotional support Frenchman, with three notable exceptions: that time Father Brown infodumped about the mating habits of whales at the Father Superior for a solid minute, that time Father Brown met a dog and reacted with unrestrained delight, and that time someone mentioned former criminals in passing and Father Brown’s whole face lit up and he started gushing about how Flambeau was living in London now and doing very well as a private detective, completely unprompted.)

This show also brought back book!Brown and Flambeau’s habit of always going on holiday together! Wonderful! We love to see it!

This show is also the first time in the entire Father Brown franchise where gay people are overtly acknowledged to exist! And Father Brown is non-judgemental! A roman catholic priest written in the 1970s and living in the 1930s who canonically isn’t homophobic! I have no choice but to stan forever!

You remember what I said about liking to point out Good Omens parallels? WELL

Kenneth More!Father Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau both live in London

Burgess!Flambeau lives in a brightly lit, pale walled, airy and spacious, modern (for the time) London apartment, while More!Brown prefers gothic architecture and lives in an old, grey, cramped, stone building absolutely full floor to ceiling with books

They go out for intimate candlelit dinners for two at very fancy London restaurants

Desperate people come to Flambeau because he “knows the game on both sides of the fence”

Father Brown responds with a quiet and miserable “oh dear” when asked to actually do his job instead of just watching plays and drinking wine

Father Brown calls Flambeau “my dear” at times and it personally kills me

I mean. I’m just saying. 👀

Now, isn’t there a third important character in the books?

Oh yes of course:

HIM! THE BASTARD MAN! INSPECTOR VALENTIN HIMSELF!

(Nobody understands him! IT’S NOT! EVIL!)

This show is the literally only adaptation to include the Valentin betrayal and I’m not gonna lie. It’s a very difficult episode to sit through, it’s far darker and grimmer and more depressing than you would ever expect from Father Brown, but my god it’s done so well. Especially considering the teeny tiny budget they clearly had, only four sets are used the entire episode and the whole thing takes place inside Valentin’s house, but even that adds a certain claustrophobic atmosphere and just. It’s done so well.

I think the entire budget went on gore effects because the decapitated heads in this episode are disturbingly realistic for the time the show was made and genuinely grim to look at. Not to mention the intense downer ending. Not to mention this was THE FINAL EPISODE OF THE SHOW

THE INTENSE DOWNER ENDING OF THIS EPISODE IS HOW THE WHOLE SHOW ENDED

God it hurts so much but I lowkey love it.

Father Brown Stories (1984):

The second radio series, and the first BBC adaptation!

Thrilling times for fans of actors being the right nationality for their characters, because after previously being played by a Hungarian, an American, an Englishman, and a Welshman, Flambeau is finally being played by a Frenchman, Olivier Pierre!

Father Brown himself is played by Andrew Sachs, Manuel himself.

Not gonna lie. It’s kind of hard to figure out how to explain the radio show.

We’re? Maybe back in London? Honestly it’s really unclear.

Pierre!Flambeau is kind of adorable. He’s described as looking like book!Flambeau physically, huge and buff and terrifying, but he has literally none of the temper or predisposition to violence.

Pierre!Flambeau doesn’t speak very good English at all, and oftentimes will react with “...What?” when he hears a strange English idiom or turn of phrase.

One time he says “Perhaps we should.. push on? SEE HOW I AM MASTERING YOUR ENGLISH IDIOMS” and it’s the cutest thing that’s ever happened.

To try and get better at understanding both the English language and the English people, Flambeau starts obsessively reading Alice in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass, massive giant adorable boy.

One time Father Brown gets complimented of being academically minded and well read, and then asked if Flambeau is also a keen reader, and when Flambeau tries to say no, Father Brown interrupts and proudly and earnestly says “Oh yes! Monsieur Flambeau is one of our top Lewis Carroll scholars!”, it’s honestly adorable.

This adaptation finally uses “John” as Father Brown’s first name, as it should always have been! I love it!

This series said FUCK Father Brown having a mysterious past and no former friends or relatives! Now he has siblings, and friends who knew him before he was a priest who still call him “John”!

Father Brown himself speaks in a very sweet and soft and wavering way that makes my heart melt.

Sadly and unfortunately, I have to acknowledge the final episode of the show, which is the top worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

It’s. It’s a crossover. With Sherlock Holmes. Actual goddamn Sherlock Holmes is in it. I hate it. I hate it so much. “Elementary, my dear Flambeau” shut the hell up, if this Flambeau won’t fling you down a flight of stairs then I will.

I deliberately avoided all Holmes-related media for THREE YEARS only for the awful man to spring up on me in Father Brown?? How could you do this to me???

I’m going to yeet myself into the sun, bye everyone.

(On the plus side, the Sherlock Holmes episode does have one of Father Brown’s parishioners recognise Flambeau as “a close friend of Father Brown and a frequent visitor to his room” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), so that’s nice I suppose. I’ll still never forgive the writers of this show for putting me through this.)

Father Brown (2013):

YOU ARE HERE.

I kind of see the current TV series as a culmination of all the adaptations that’ve come before? I can definitely see echoes of all of them in it.

And it’s great! I really really love it. I love it a lot.

I think about it daily.

My one and only complaint I would have is that Flambeau isn’t in it enough. Not just because he’s my favourite, though I’d obviously not be fooling anyone who’s read all this if I said he isn’t.

And it’s not that I don’t love the show as it is, and find the one Flambeau episode a series always something really special, so I don’t know what I’d have the writers do, exactly.

But it’s just. In literally every other version of Father Brown, Flambeau is the second most important character and the second main protagonist, and to have him in this show so little that some fans or reviewers call him a “minor character” and others call him a “recurring villain”, though I myself don’t see him either of those ways of course because he’s still Flambeau, it’s just kinda sad and painful, y’know?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being silly.

Hopefully he’s a regular in at least the final season of the show. If I don’t get my favourite partners in crime solving I’m rioting.

Anyway that’s my “””brief””” rundown on all the main versions of Father Brown!! I hope you liked it!!

#Anonymous #father brown #hercule flambeau #flambrown

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wellhalesbells · 5 years

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I see you reblogging some comic stuff an I was wondering if you have a favorite comic or favorite character or ship?

this ask is from so long ago but [DEEP BREATH IN] i’m finally going to answer it, nonny. finally. i kept wanting to read a little bit farther in my comics stack because.... maybe i’ll like that and will regret not having recced it, i just hafta--get--to it, see? and, honestly, i’m still there BUT, come on, i’ll never be caught up because that would mean comics would just have to stop coming out and i would be sad forever if that happened, SO

i’m not even going to pretend like i can narrow this down to one comic. (one ship? sure, that’s spideypool. one character? sure, that’s the merc with a mouth, the regenerating degenerate, wade motherfucking wilson. but one comic?!) there is just straight-up too much out there to make a definitive ‘yes, this is it, this is THE ONE ™ ’ statement. instead, uh, let’s break this shit down, yeah? (super special secret bonus round, will note all lgbt+ rep and standalone comics.) in no particular order, here the frig it goes!

HORROR

infidel, by pornsak pichetshote and aaron campbell. in case you haven’t seen this on every 2018 best list ever, here it is. and, yeah, it was good. a muslim-american main character living in a haunted apartment building where the entities feed off the xenophobia of its occupants. if that’s not a fucking modern horror story i don’t know what is.

spread, by justin jordan and kyle strahm. THIS IS ONE OF MY NEW AND ALREADY ALL-TIME FAVORITES. what an awesomely weird and epic story. the spread is an uncontrollable, unstoppable monster-making force that humanity accidentally unleashed by digging too deep. it infects everything it touches and basically all of humanity is running from quarantine to quarantine just hoping for the best. and speaking of hope.... she’s a baby, rescued by no, and the only thing that’s ever been able to stop the spread. also, no’s gay? and i just DID NOT see that coming. it seems like it’s going to be such a formulaic, bro-y story about the action hero who kisses the face off his girl (her name’s molly and she’s batshit insane and amazing) and instead, nope, it is not that at all. lgbt+ main characters.

the black monday murders, by jonathan hickman and tomm coker. hate capitalism? think all the rich and powerful are evil, soul-sucking monsters? [obnoxious, low-budget commercial sound effects] MAN, HAVE I GOT THE SERIES FOR YOU.

the beauty, by jeremy haun and jason a. hurley. i just started this recently but so far, oh my good golly gosh, i looove it. a sexually transmitted disease that makes you conventionally gorgeous.... at least before it explodies you. [wide, creepy smile] the art is gorgeous, the characters are aces and i am very, very pleased so far. lgbt+ minor characters.

the great divide, by ben fisher and adam markiewicz. this? was a COOL idea. the execution stumbled a bit but, gosh, was it neat. it’s post-apocalyptic where touching another person will literally kill.... one of you. the survivor then absorbs the memories of the person who dies, taking on a ‘rider.’ some people collect them, some people go mad, some form a bond, all have the side effect of dyslexia. like i said, neat as all get out. lgbt+ minor-ish/main-ish character. standalone.

revival, by tim seely and mike norton. a rural town in wisconsin experiences ‘miracle day,’ where the dead rise again.... except, they were kinda already mourned and buried and this is really just fucking up the status quo.

the woods, by james tynion iv and michael dialynas. a high school gets picked up and plopped down in an entirely new, and wickedly hostile universe. it’s all survival and alliances and seeing what you’re really made of when it comes down to it. lgbt+ main characters.

clean room, by gail simone and jon davis-hunt. a cult, a journalist and a clean room walk into a bar...

anya’s ghost, by vera brosgol. you think it’ll be a cute story of a girl and her ghost. HA HA THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENS AT ALL, OKAY.

FANTASY

rumble, by john arcudi and james harren. SCARECROW WARRIOR GOD, SCARECROW WARRIOR GOD, SCARECROW WARRIOR GOD!!! okay, first off, the art in this? pushes every friggin’ button i’ve got, and many i did not know i had. second, this book is so fucking fun. it’s mythology that’s balls to the wall ridiculous, funny, and features a main character whose life motto is basically: ‘do i have to?’ infinitely relatable and then some.

heathen, by natasha alterici and rachel deering. UGH, ONE OF MY FAVORITES. the art is just horribly, horrendously gorgeous and it’s LESBIAN VIKING MYTHOLOGY, OKAY. OKAYYYY??? lgbt+ main characters.

the wicked + the divine, by kieron gillen and jamie mckelvie. one of my favorite ever series right here. it’s a hella cool concept (gods reincarnating as humans every twelve years, and burning up their hosts in two), whip-smart and if you’ve ever met a human being who likes a pun more than kieron gillen i defy you to produce them. lgbt+ main and minor characters.

batgirl, by gail simone and adrian sayaf and vicente cifuentes. you know how people rave about gail simone? there’s a reason people rave about gail simone. honestly, i’ve never had much interest in babs. i don’t tend to go for superheroes who don’t kill and i have even less interest in ‘the killing joke’ story line and i am convinced only gail simone could’ve done the recovery on that and she did a GLORIOUS job of it.

red hood and the outlaws, by scott lobdell and dexter soy. (ignoring recent - and annoying - developments), this is my favorite of all the rebirths dc did. scott lobdell is the only writer to have gotten the idea down of: okay, we’re starting over, i assume you don’t know anything but i also assume there are a bajillion people reading who know everything, and hit the perfect medium between those two things. so if you want to start a jason todd run, you legitimately can here, and get all the found family, badassery, batman-teasing enjoyment there is to be had.

iceman, by sina grace and robert gill (covers by kevin wada). classic super-heroing here and bobby’s first solo title. he’s figuring out coming out while fighting (and flirting) with baddies. sina really gets his humor and how truly wonder-awful it is! lgbt+ main character.

spider-man/deadpool, by joe kelly and ed mcguinness. watch those names there, those are your guys right there, period. they looked at the void of a spider-man/deadpool series and filled it with absolutely everything you could possibly want for the pair (sans a hardcore make-out sesh, though they did get a few variant covers with some puckered up lips in there!)

limbo, by dan watters and caspar wijngaard. a fusion of 80s aesthetics, voodoo elements and a noir tone. just some remarkably cool shit in this. the ending, for me, left something to be desired but it was more than worth it to see worship via mixtapes. standalone.

hawkeye: kate bishop, by kelly thompson and leonardo romero. kate bishop is, apparently???, a super impossible character for a lot of writers. kelly thompson is not one of them. kelly thompson is my favorite kate bishop writer, actually, and the fact that she is ever not writing her is a gd travesty.

the unbeatable squirrel girl, by ryan north and erica henderson. honestly, i’m so tempted to just stick this under ‘contemporary,’ because it really does just feel very... normal. doreen’s navigating college, new friendships, and y’know... the squirrely-ness. this had every opportunity to suck and instead it’s funny as heck, never takes itself too seriously, and is just pure good-hearted entertainment through and through.

wolf, by ales kot and matt taylor. a paranormal detective and the-possible-antichrist go on a road trip. people hated this comic and i don’t know how you can hate a comic that has a character called freddy chtonic who has tentacles for a mouth???

ms. marvel, by g. willow wilson and adrian alphona. hi, you read ms. marvel because the world is a garbage fire and people are terrible and your cynicism is at an all time high and then kamala khan waltzes in and reminds you people generally want to help each other and the world improves when we work together and that thing optimists feel? you’ll feel that for as long as you’ve got the pages open and that’s a magical thing. lgbt+ minor character.

monstress, by marjorie m. liu and sana takeda. psychic links with monsters, matriarchal societies, magic and witchery, half-human/half-animal (and other ratios) characters, all through a steampunk lens. what’s not to like about that??

inhuman, by charles soule. i love this series, i love the idea of being a total average joe/joanne, getting smacked in the face by a cloud of mist and suddenly having to figure out how to live basically a whole new life. also, if you don’t fall madly in love with dante pertuz, i don’t even know what to tell you, my dude.

heart in a box, by kelly thompson and meredith mcclaren. break-ups suck, but only because of that whole pesky broken heart thing, right? so emma gives hers away. problem solved, no? standalone.

i kill giants, by joe kelly and j.m. ken niimura. i didn’t cry my eyes out or anything. did not. standalone.

sex criminals, by matt fraction and chip zdarsky. having sex = stopping time, which leads suzie and jon to the only logical conclusion: let’s rob some banks!

hawkeye, by matt fraction and david aja. honestly there are a lot of other artist combos in this run but the only ones that are worthwhile are the ones that have fraction and aja’s names on them - sorry not sorry.

SCIENCE FICTION

black bolt, by saladin ahmed and christian ward. saladin revived this character one hundred million percent. there is absolutely a reason this was parading around all over ‘best’ lists when it was released. it really, really did the damn thing.

saga, by brian k. vaughan and fiona staples. this is the comic you recommend to people who don’t even like comics because it is that good. like, my dad - who hadn’t read a comic since he was a pre-teen, eagerly awaits each new trade. the world-building, the characters, the care put into every single solitary bit of all the things? unparalleled. lgbt+ minor characters.

frostbite, by joshua williamson and jason shawn alexander. a post-apocalyptic story that has humanity dying from a plague that literally freezes you from the inside out. very neat, very cold, very readable. standalone.

descender, by jeff lemire and dustin nguyen. this had a rough start, for me, with the main character of the first trade being tim-21, an android who is literally incapable of having the depth to be a lead BUT that does not last through to the next trade, thank god. lots of space and found family and world-building in this to be had! but you know how people rave about jeff lemire? there’s a reason people rave about jeff lemire.

paper girls, by brian k. vaughan and cliff chiang. the 80s and time travel and lifelong friendships. it’s brian k. vaughan, you know it’s good, okay? why do i even have to sell you here, man? lgbt+ main characters.

injection, by warren ellis and declan shalvey. this is another one on my list that started out a little rough but really appealed to me later on. there was just a lot to absorb in that first trade but, once you’ve got it, the ride gets way, way smoother. lgbt+ main and minor characters.

black science, by rick remender and matteo scalera. this was a rocky start, because the main character is such an asshole but in a way where he can’t see he’s an asshole, he’s just a tortured genius who’s superior to all of you, don’t you know? but i am so glad i persevered because if that’s the set up? the rest of the series is knocking him back down. super scientist grant mckay finds a way to access the eververse, every possible reality the universe has on offer, and that’s really what causes every single problem that follows. hard to cause the apocalypse and be an arrogant prick, ya know?

CONTEMPORARY

giant days, by john allison and lissa treiman. this series is so funny and smart and warm. these girls are so kind to each other and relatable and failing at adulting regularly and often and i love reading about them. lgbt+ main character.

lumberjanes, by noelle stevenson and grace ellis and brooke a. allen. this is funny and ridiculous and kind and cool and all other awesome adjectives and you should read it, fact. lgbt+ main characters.

my brother’s husband, by gengoroh tagame and anne ishii (translator). this is such a sweet story about acceptance and family tbh. lgbt+ main character.

fence, by c. s. pacat and johanna the mad. i mean... i need to see nicholas and seiji hook-up, i need that, stat. stat means now! lgbt+ main characters.

WEB/INDEPENDENT COMICS

long exposure, by kam heyward. so mitch and jonas are my absolute faves and i love them to death and the author is so kind in that they actually put this up in print on indyplanet so i can read it the way i, personally, love to read comics (and - bonus! - support them with the monies). lgbt+ main characters.

modern dread, by pat shand and ryan fassett (editors). i’ve been trying to find more better horror comics lately so i’ve been kind of half-heartedly stumbling through kickstarter on the hunt and this was SUCH a great find. it’s an anthology but more cleverly done than any other kickstarter anthology i’ve read, with a main story line that seamlessly strings together the would-be-disjointed ones. this was really thoughtfully put together and really well done! standalone.

heartstopper, by alice oseman. a very sweet story about two high school-aged boys becoming fast friends, playing rugby and falling in love. the two characters are mentioned as an aside in the author’s book, solitaire, and she became so invested in them that she wrote their backstory as a free webcomic. lgbt+ main characters.

the pale, by jay fabares. JUST started this (like, just a day or so ago) but i’m enjoying it so far!

hotblood!, by toril orlesky. i mean... is it a webcomic about a centaur falling in love with his boss? it just might be. did i get a bound edition through a kickstarter campaign? maybe. maybe i did that. who’s to say? lgbt+ main characters.

the bay, by bbz. life on mars through the lens of three young professionals who form an odd but lasting friendship. lgbt+ main characters.

hard drive, by artroan. is it a nsfw comic about a dude and a robot? .... it might be a nsfw comic about a dude and a robot. [coughs] lgbt+ main characters.

seen nothing yet, by tess stone. a nsfw comic about two amateur ghost hunters. can’t imagine why i might be interested in that [coughs] lgbt+ main characters.

captain imani and the cosmic chase, by lin darrow and alex assan. i mean did i want a starship captain who can’t help but lust after the smuggler he’s chasing. i mean, maybe i did. maybe. lgbt+ main characters.

taproot, by keezy young. ghost falls in love with boy, boy falls in love with ghost, AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. lgbt+ main characters.

always raining here, by bell and hazel. just two boys falling in lurve. lgbt+ main characters.

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lizzy-c807fanfics · 5 years

Text

The things we do for a friend

Can internet dating lead to finding your soul mate? Mary Margaret and David believe that is the case but it turns out they’ve both been burned in that arena before. They enlist their cynical friends Emma and Killian as back up for them just in case they get stuck. What happens when they all meet? (Rated M) FF

“Mary Margaret do I have to?”

“Please Emma, I really like him but I’m nervous to go alone. I promise just this one time.”

“That’s what you always say and then I end up finding a way to sneak you out of the restaurant when the guy turns out to be a creep.”

“Well, if all goes well with this one, and I have a good feeling about him, then this will be the last time.”

“Fine, I really hope he is. Honestly Mary Margaret I’m not sure how you can keep online dating. So far all the guys you’ve met have been creepy. Remember that guy that picked his nose when he thought you weren’t looking.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me about him. Thank god I had you watching from the bar. It’s a shame because he was actually cute. “

“Imagine kissing booger mouth at the end of the night.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Oh, and what about that guy who picked food off of other people’s plates at the hibachi when he thought no one was looking.”

“I know they can’t all be winners but at least I’m putting myself out there. When was the last time you had a date?”

She frowned and chewed her bottom lip.” I don’t know, six months ago.”

“Exactly Emma. One guy breaks your heart and you become a cynic for the rest of your life? Not all guys are like him.”

“I know. Maybe booger eater is available.”

Mary Margaret swatted her on the arm.”Not funny!”

“Come on, it’s a little funny.”

She watched as her friend walked back to her office in a huff.

“Meet you at 7!”she called out.

She thought she caught the tail end of a rude gesture from her before she disappeared. She never ceased to be surprised by her.

Maybe Mary Margaret was right. She had been single and celibate for awhile now. She wasn’t about to step into the online dating pool like her but maybe she could make an effort to hang out with friends a little more. She had been head strong into her career for the last year and that one date she had, he was just ok, not anyone special that she would make an effort for.

She decided that she’d be a little more open to the possibility if something presented itself. She just had to get through babysitting Mary Margaret through another dating fiasco. She really did hope that this guy was decent for her sake. If she had to watch her beautiful friend sit across from one more bottom feeder she was going to lose it. Mary Margaret deserved someone kind, caring and decent like she was.

“Dave, are you certain about this one?”

“I feel like she’s my soul mate.”

“You said that about the last creature that you met and she stalked you for a month after that awful date. She was picking her teeth with a fork for heaven’s sake.”

“Killian, they’re all looking for love and the right person. I just wasn’t the right one for her. From what I hear her boyfriend Billy Bob is the one.”

“You still keep in touch with her?”

“She emails me sometimes.”

He shook his head. “What’s this one’s damage?”

“So far, I haven’t found one thing damaged about her. She’s beautiful, intelligent, funny and really nice.”

“Be sure to check in the closet for bodies Mate; she sounds too good to be true.”

I think this is the one. I can feel it.”

“Fine, I’ll be there but I’ll be the first to tell you I told you so if she turns out to be the spawn of Satan.”

“Great, it’s the usual place. I’ll give you the signal if it’s not going well.”

“Right, I walk by and pretend there’s an emergency at work.”

“Yes.”

“You’re paying my tab.”

He pat him on the shoulder and walked back to his office. “Don’t I always? Be there at 7.”

He never met anyone so optimistic about love and soul mates in his entire life until he met Dave. The man was hopeless. He watched him from the bar going on countless dates with these strange women. Each one just a little more deranged than the other but he continued to do it. He had to give him credit because at least he was trying, unlike himself.

He made the mistake of falling for the wrong woman at the wrong time in his career. He found himself out of a job and relationship all at the same time when his former boss walked in on him with his wife. He had no idea that the woman was married or that she was married to his boss. She’d used a fake last name and there were no family photos to be seen.

That was a mistake he would not be making again. He was lucky that Dave was around to help scoop him up off the ground and put him back together after that. So when Dave needed a little backup for his dates he couldn’t say no.

It was really the least he could do to sit at a bar and hang out in case his best friend needed support. He could be a good wingman and sometimes he actually met a nice woman to spend the night with, never usually more than that. He didn’t do relationships anymore, not after being burned so badly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She rushed into the restaurant at 6:55 hoping to catch Mary Margaret before her date started. She had a last minute client meeting and of course she got stuck in traffic. She looked around and didn’t see her anywhere yet. She also surveyed the room and there didn’t appear to be any single men sitting alone so she figured she’d made it in time.

She knew the signal; Mary Margaret would pretend to sneeze three times if it wasn’t going well. She would walk by her table and drop her napkin on the floor next to her if the guy showed any visible signs of being gross. After booger eater and plate grazer they had to come up with that one, she didn’t even want to think about armpit sniffer. She shuddered at the thought.

She walked to the bar and found an empty seat towards the end. She placed her briefcase below the bar and took her favorite stool where she knew she’d be able to see her friend no matter which table she’d be in.

She pulled out the pin in her hair and shook it down around her shoulders pulling out the waves with her fingers. Finally the bartender came over and she ordered a drink. She sat back against the bar waiting for her friend who now appeared to be late. She pulled her phone from her purse and scanned for messages.

Emma our date got pushed back to 7:30 because I had a client meeting run late. I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you. See you soon! MM

She quickly text her back letting her know she was there and it was no big deal. She took a deep breath and a sip of her drink. She put her phone away and suddenly the seat next to her was occupied by a very handsome stranger dressed in a three piece navy pin stripe suit.

He had the perfect amount of scruff on his face and his hair was conveniently mussed enough to give him a bit of ruggedness to an otherwise neatly pressed man. He also had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. She could get lost looking into them so she averted his gaze quickly before he noticed she was staring.

He did as she did placing his briefcase under the bar and waiting for a drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He rushed to the restaurant to meet Dave only to find out as soon as he got there that the time had been pushed back to 7:30. He was disappointed at first but when he saw the beautiful blonde shaking out her hair at the end of the bar he believed things were looking up. She happened to be sitting in prime date watching location so he moved quickly to take the seat next to her.

He noticed that she was drinking top shelf scotch neat, a woman after his own heart. He surveyed her gorgeous legs as he placed his briefcase under the bar, suddenly curious about how those would feel wrapped around him. He straightened up catching a whiff of the strawberry scent coming from her hair. She was intoxicating as well as beautiful.

He held out his hand to get the bartender’s attention. He looked over towards her and he could swear she smiled at him before taking a sip of her drink. He finally got his own drink and checked the time. Dave should be arriving any moment and he knew he should keep an eye out for him but he couldn’t help but keep an eye on even the smallest movements that she was making.

He noticed her looking around the room. He started to feel a little jealous; perhaps she was waiting for a date. He took a sip of his whiskey and looked towards the door. He needed to focus on his friend, after all that was why he was there. He’d just have to hope the gorgeous blonde would be here for awhile.

She watched his beautiful blue eyes drink her in. She knew what she was doing and this guy was hot. She couldn’t help but tease him a little after she caught him taking an eyeful of her legs. She felt a rush of heat at the thought of his hands possibly rubbing up against leg as he sat up. She pushed those thoughts aside, for all she knew he was waiting for a date. Mary Margaret was going to be here any second and she needed to focus on her friend as promised. She didn’t want her friend kissing a booger eater.

She hoped to god for once Mary Margaret was right and this date was the one. If so maybe she could focus on her own needs and perhaps throw her celibacy out the window. She just had to hope this beautiful man was still here after the drama unfolded so she could at least get his number.

When she turned her focus back to him she noticed he was looking at the door. She felt a pit of despair at the thought that maybe he was actually waiting for someone. She picked up her drink and took a long sip letting the burn in her throat distract her. She focused back into the room and noticed Mary Margaret walking in with a blonde gentleman.

He looked like a decent person so far, neatly pressed, hair coiffed nicely and he pulled out her chair for her; very chivalrous. She was going to give him points for that. She took another sip and kept watch.

Ah, finally Dave shows up with his date; a petite woman with short brown hair that framed her pretty face. She was dressed professionally but feminine. So far she seemed Dave’s type and no red flags were going off. He sat back and took a sip of his drink as he watched. Out of the corner of his eye he happened to catch the gorgeous blonde next to him gazing in the same direction. He smiled and took another sip. Perhaps she was on a mission of mercy herself.

She finished her drink and put the empty glass on the bar never taking her eyes off the table with her friend. Mary Margaret appeared to be having a good time. She was smiling and laughing. Her date had his napkin in his lap, kept his fingers out of any orifices that were visible and only had eyes for her dear friend. She smiled and turned back to the bar looking to signal the bartender meeting a gorgeous pair of blue eyes in the process.

She blinked slowly and then noticed the smile grow across his face.”Let me get that for you. Scotch?”

She smiled, he had a beautiful voice and accent that did things to her.”Neat please.”

He ordered two and turned back to face her extending his hand.”Killian Jones.”

She took his hand and felt a bit of electricity pass between them.”Emma Swan.”

The bartender placed fresh drinks in front of them and she picked it up to take a sip. She already felt relaxed after the first one. “So Killian, what brings you here tonight?”

“I suspect you are here for the same reason as I, in the duty of a friend.”

She looked over at the table where her friend was still smiling and laughing and turned back to him.”Internet date from hell watch, you too?”

He took a sip of his drink and smiled.”Aye, my best friend Dave swears he will meet his soul mate if he keeps trying.”

She laughed.”Mary Margaret is the same way. There have been some real winners. Please tell me your friend is normal.”

He laughed.”Aye, Dave is the most normal man I’ve ever met. Perhaps they have fulfilled their match. They look to be hitting it off, both of them seem equally happy.”

She looked over wistfully.”Yeah, I’m happy to see her smile. She’s one of the most decent and kind people I’ve ever met.”

“Dave as well. It’s nice to see him smiling on one of these for once.”

She took another sip of her drink.”So its safe to say your friend is not a booger eater?”

He laughed.”No, I’ve never seen him eat a booger. Is it safe to say your friend isn’t going to break any dishes or shout obscenities?”

“No, that’s happened?”

He chuckled.“Aye, he’s been on a few wild dates.”

“And I thought I had it bad watching some of her dates. No, I can assure you that she will not break any dishes and if she did she would be cleaning them up and begging the restaurant for forgiveness.”

“Wow, she does sound perfect for Dave.”

“What do you usually do if the date goes well?”

He shook his head.”Not sure, none of them have so far. These things usually end with me rescuing him from a psycho and taking him to another pub where we play pool or darts.”

“Hmm, yeah none of them have ever gone well for Mary Margaret either.Same with us but we get a sampler, drinks and laugh about whatever crazy guy she went out with.”

“What do you say we relieve ourselves of duty, find another pub and make a night of it together?”

She eyed him cautiously remembering her promise to put herself out there.”I want to let Mary Margaret know, just in case. How do I know you aren’t just telling me he’s a good guy, then I leave and he’s a creep.”

“Trust me Darling. Dave is one of the best people I know. He’s as far from a creep as you can get.”

She looked over once more to Mary Margaret who was smiling bright and focused completely on the man in front of her. “Alright. I’m game. Let’s go.”

“Brilliant. There’s a great little place a few doors down from here.”

“The Eagle, that’s where we usually go, they have great food.”

“Us as well. Seems great minds think alike.”

He climbed from his stool and extended his hand helping her down from hers. He bent down and grabbed both of their briefcases and extended his arm to her. She took her briefcase and his arm as they walked towards the door. They both looked towards their friend’s table as they left unable to catch either of their eyes because both were so wrapped in each other.

“Looks like we’re in the clear.”

He gazed into her beautiful green eyes trying to figure out what he did exactly to be this lucky.“Indeed. Let’s make the most of the rest of this night.”

She smiled and couldn’t wait to hear Mary Margaret’s story in the morning, hopeful she’d have one of her own.

Ch.2

She held onto him closely as they walked out into the cool night air. It had been raining earlier so the usual city odors had been replaced by fresh air. He pushed open the door to the pub and let her go in ahead of him. So far he seemed like a gentleman.

She gazed into his eyes as she passed through the door. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

The hostess sat them in one of the booths off to the side. She never noticed that the ambiance in the pub lent itself very nicely for a date. Usually she was trying to soothe Mary Margaret’s tender feelings after her awful date so she never noticed.

She slid into the booth across from him and he smiled.”Well this was a nice turn of events. Normally Dave and I are pounding shots at the bar, knocking balls around on the billiards tables and he’s covering for the mishap he’d escaped from. I never noticed how nice it was in here before.”

She smiled.”I was just thinking the same thing.”

“What was it you mentioned your order when you come in here?”

“Oh the Eagle Sampler. It’s salty and greasy, comfort foods.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “What do you say Swan? Are you up for a little salty and greasy.”

She laughed.”Sounds good. You also mentioned shots?”

“Aye, Rum.”

“I’m game if you are. It’s been a hell of a week.”

He couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in her beautiful emerald eyes as she smiled back at him, just a glint of mischief present when she challenged him. Of course he’d agreed. It was nice to have a little fun instead of using the alcohol as a means to distract a friend who felt their heart was broken.

The waitress set them up with shots and put in their order for the sampler platter. He slid one of the shot glasses to her and picked one up himself. “To all the psycho dates our friends have endured that have led us to this moment.” She smiled and threw back her shot. He slid her another and this time she gave the toast.”To being good wingmen.” He held up his shot.”Cheers.” She knocked his glass with her own and tossed back the shot.

He watched her intently as she regaled him of stories of some of Mary Margaret’s past experiences. He couldn’t help but laugh. They’d each order a pint as well while they waited for their food to arrive. She was easy to talk to and didn’t seem to hold back her opinion. He liked that she was a bit of a spitfire. He also couldn’t remember ever having a date that was this much fun.

Mary Margaret would probably have her dating rules book out pointing to the rules that she was breaking at that moment, eating greasy food, drinking heavily, laughing, just being herself. The rules all felt phony to her and she wasn’t into playing games. That was probably one reason she begged off dating for so long. She liked herself and didn’t want to be anyone else.

Their steaming plate mixed fried foods soon came out and the waitress placed it in the middle of their table along with plates.

“Good Call Swan.”

“I know, I’m starving, the onion rings are the best here.”

She handed him one of the small plates and her fingers lightly brushed against his in the process. She felt a warmth rush to her cheeks when she noticed him smiling. As they ate their plate of fried cheeses, onion rings, potato wedges, chicken fingers and jalapeño poppers they learned they had a lot in common.

They were both professionals who worked way too much likely because they were both burned by a disaster of an ex. Neither of them took time to date themselves but always made time for their friends and their friend’s disastrous dates and neither of them had family to speak of outside of the aforementioned friends.

By the time they’d finished as much of the sampler as they could eat they were both laughing and she’d moved comfortably into the booth next to him. He held her hand as he spoke to her, telling her tales about his days in university with Dave. They’d been best friends since freshman year.

She told him about how she first met Mary Margaret as interns for their company. They were thick as thieves from day one and the only interns to have been offered permanent positions with the company.

The night went on and soon they were the only two left and the bartender was starting to give them the evil eye.

“So Lass can I interest you in a lift home?”

She ran her fingers up the buttons on his shirt and looked up through her lashes smiling.”I’m not sure either of us should drive.”

“I was thinking we could share a cab. I didn’t bring my car since these nights usually end in us being poured into a cab and Dave sleeping on my couch.”

“I don’t have my car either.”

“Cab it is then.”

He paid the bill as she slid out of the booth and he climbed out after her pulling out their briefcases behind him. She took hers in hand as well as his extended arm. This time she couldn’t help snuggling into his side. He was warm and he smelled delicious.

They walked out of the pub together towards the corner to get into the waiting cab. He pulled open the door and she slid inside. He climbed in after her and closed the door.

“Where to?” asked the cabbie.

He turned to face her realizing he didn’t know her address. She smiled never taking her eyes from him and replied. “184 N Freedom St.”

He slid over on the seat closer to her and she slipped her hand into his. He caressed the back of her thumb with his hoping their touch was having the same effect on her as it was him. He looked into her beautiful green eyes twinkling as they past under the city lights feeling the hum of electricity under his skin. He looked to her full lips hopeful that he would at the very least be able to kiss her.

She licked her lips in anticipation. He was driving her wild rubbing his thumb over hers so she inched closer, her face inches from his now. She saw his eyebrow quirk up and the little grin grow on his face. She blinked her eyes slowly and looked towards his lips.

He leaned in closing the distance and capturing her lips in a soft sensual kiss. The electricity sparked between them as she slid her hands up and wove her fingers into his hair hungry for more. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her as close as he could get without her being on top of him. He couldn’t get enough of her and desperately hoped it was a long ride to her apartment.

The cab came to a stop rousing them back to reality and they broke apart slowly, panting with kiss swollen lips. She gripped his tie in her hand unable to control the smile on her face.”Come up?” He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.” He pulled the fair from his wallet and handed it to the cabbie never releasing her from his hungry gaze.

He held her close to his side as they maneuvered past her doorman, down the hallway and finally into her apartment. She barely had the door closed before he had her back pressed against it and his lips on her neck working slowly on her most sensitive area, which she happened to mention earlier in the evening.

She pulled his face back up to hers and caught his smirk before capturing his lips against hers in a fury. One hand held her close, the length of her pressed against him while the other slid its way down her body and over her soft curve towards her sensitive nipple. He stroked it through the thin fabric of her dress eliciting a soft moan from her and a jolt of heat to her core.

She pulled at his tie and he unzipped the back of her dress. She ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere and he slid her dress down from her body.

He dropped back slightly still holding her hand admiring her body in the thinly veiled scraps of lace that remained reverently. “God you’re gorgeous.” She smiled and pulled him back to her capturing his lips and kissing him sensually as she worked on his belt helping him slide out of his pants. It had been far too long and he was too delicious to stop kissing him.

He slid his hands down the sides of her body hitching her left leg up over his hip giving him access to slide between her thighs and flush against her so that every curve of her body was brushing against him. He could feel the wet heat coming through the silky lace against his hardened length as he pressed into her.

She moaned in his mouth as the friction continued to tease her as his hips rocked forward and back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her center against him in sync with his rhythm. He was rock hard and she wanted to feel him, she needed to feel him inside of her. “Bedroom, down on the right.” She breathed out. He wrapped his other arm around her right leg and picked her up from the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he walked her down the hall.

His lips teased at her pert nipple through the lace as he carried her. She continued to lap lightly at his earlobe sucking it into her mouth, panting as he pulled at her senses. He laid her down carefully on the bed huffing out a breath and smiling. She crooked her finger calling him to her as she crawled back up the bed. He did as she requested crawling forward over her stopping slowly at her center and breathing heated breath on her sensitive nub, licking softly on the dampened lace.”God Killian, I need you.”

He peered up smiling and slipped off her panties tossing them onto the floor before wrapping his arms around her thighs and laving at her sensitive folds. She mewled at the contact from his warm tongue against her. The man knew what he was doing, applying slight pressure in her sensitive area at first then slipping in a finger to tease her before laving harder and then softer.”So wet already Darling.”

She laid back and gripped the cotton sheet on the bed as he did his best to pull her into oblivion. She let a sense of calm fall over her as she let the sensations of his warm wet tongue and soft scruff against her sensitive heat drive her crazy. When she didn’t think she could hold out he slipped in a second finger curling them forward sending her over the edge. She felt him laugh in satisfaction as her walls fluttered around his fingers and she closed her eyes letting the waves of euphoria crash over her.

He wiped his chin and climbed up next to her pulling her into his side. She leaned forward kissing him with fervor pushing him back, climbing over him, and straddling his hips. “You are amazing.” He smiled.”I’ve pleased you?” She nodded.”Oh yes, now it’s your turn.”

She leaned over and pulled a condom from her nightstand laying it on the bed next to him. He had his hands on her hips rocking her back and forth over his hard thick length. She wanted him to feel good too. He’d just given her the best orgasm of her life. She slid back and pulled off his boxers letting his cock free from its cottony confinement.

She looked at him with wide eyes and he grinned. She sent him a saucy wink, took him in her hand and began to pump him slowly working him up.”Feels good.” He relaxed back against the pillows as she leaned forward, licked her lips and swirled her tongue around the tip before taking in his length coating him. He groaned in pleasure as she let him fuck her mouth slowly.

She enjoyed eliciting each moan from him and she also enjoyed teasing him. “Love.” he breathed trying to let her know he was close. She slipped back and pealed open the foil package sliding it over his length. She crawled forward over his body capturing his lips for a sensual kiss as she lined up her tight heat against the tip of his cock. She leaned back pulling him with her as he filled her. She dropped her head back as he held her letting her get used to his size.

She felt amazing, tight hot and wet. “Emma, so good.” He didn’t know if he was going to last long after the amazing treatment he’d already gotten from her. This was too good to be true. He pulled her forward and pressed wet kisses up her neck to her lips. She straddled him sliding up and down against his hard cock. He felt so good, nearly losing herself when he filled her. It’d been too long since she felt this good. His hands were on her hips lifting her up and down as his lips found her sensitive area again.

She cupped his face pulling his lips back to her and she took control again riding him hard and fast. She cried out when she found the angle that hit her most pleasurable spot. He took control again pushing into her until he felt her fluttering around him finally allowing him to let go too. He breathed her name against her shoulder as he held her tight biting her soft skin lightly. “Emma.”

She hugged his face close to her chest as she breathed against his dampened hair. She pressed a kiss to his crown as she felt him pressing lazy kisses against her breast. She huffed out a breath and pushed him back down onto the soft blankets lying on top of him.

“That was.” He breathed. “I know.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead smoothing his hand down her back and holding her tight against him. She laughed as she trailed her fingers through the dusting of hair on his chest. “What’s funny Love?”

“It’s just, this isn’t how I expected tonight to go.” He kissed the top of her head again. He couldn’t believe it either. “Better than expected I hope?” She looked up into his eyes.”Oh yes, way better than expected.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows, clearly ego stroking was in order and definitely appropriate.

His expression changed to one of hopeful.”Will I see you again?”

She quirked an eyebrow and smiled.” Leaving so soon? I haven’t even shown you my best moves yet.”

He laughed.”I hoped but things have been going so well that I didn’t want to push my luck.”

“I was hoping you’d stay and maybe we can figure this out over breakfast tomorrow.”

He pulled her up and kissed the tip of her nose.”I make an excellent omelet.”

She rubbed her nose lightly against his trying to figure out how he was real.”Good.”

He spent the night and the rest of the weekend. Neither of them expected to find the one, as Mary Margaret or David would explain it, but somehow they just fit. He left late Sunday night with the promise to meet her for dinner after work the following day.

When she strolled in wearing her favorite scarf to hide several love bites on her most sensitive spot Mary Margaret was suspicious. Her friend followed her to the coffee station.

“Emma, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all weekend. I have the most amazing news.”

She hummed to herself smiling as she tore open the packet of sugar and poured it into her mug before turning to face her friend’s smiling face.”Let me guess, you finally met the man of your dreams.”

“Yes. He is the one. Oh Emma we laughed the whole time. When I went to find you to let you know the coast was clear you’d already left. David and I spent the whole weekend together. He’s amazing. In fact when I told him about you he mentioned he had a friend that you might like.”

She laughed to herself as she took a sip of her coffee.”Oh did he now?”

“Yes, He had a friend waiting for him to give the all clear signal too.”

She smiled.”What would you say if I told you that you weren’t the only person to meet the man of her dreams in the restaurant that night?”

“No, Killian Jones? Emma really!”

She nodded.”Oh yes and David was right. We are perfect for each other.”

Mary Margaret jumped up and down giggling.”All it took was dating a few booger eating armpit sniffers to find them. Tell me everything!”

She wrapped her arm over her friend’s shoulders and told her all about her weekend, sparing some of the details that were reserved for just her and her new boyfriend. She was still getting used to that title but she wasn’t scared at all, in fact she was looking forward to everything that came with it.

#cs ff #captain swan #Mary Margaret Blanchard #david nolan #killian jones #emma swan #repost

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britesparc · 3 years

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Weekend Top Ten #453

Top Ten Films That Make Me Happy

So every once in a while I do one of these things and the world ends up moving so fast that between me having an idea, writing the list, and it going up on Tumblr of a weekend, the plates have shifted and it doesn’t seem quite as relevant anymore. I remember listing ten films I wanted to see because cinemas were reopening; I think only two of them ever actually saw the inside of a Cineworld. And so we have this week; when I came up with the idea for the list, I thought either we’d all be in a celebratory mood, or else need commiserating. And at the time of writing, it’s looking – thankfully – that we’ll have enough reasons to be cheerful to be getting along with. But who knows? If you’re reading this on Saturday there may be a new president, or maybe the old one’s bombed China.

It’s a funny old world.

Anyway, like I said, my initial thought was that, in this time of darkness, we might need a little light; that everything is rather remorselessly grim and difficult, and we could do with a bit of cheering up. We’re all back in lockdown, the idiots are in charge, and Halo Infinite was delayed till next year. Lots of crap is going on. And, yes, fingers crossed, maybe we will be celebrating the Idiot in Chief getting booted out of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue before too long, but life has taught me never to count chickens, and you can always do with a little restorative nip in your pocket, just in case. And what is a good curative for the blues? A fillum.

Yes, feel-good films. Cheerer-uppers. Movies that make ya happy. There are lots of them, of course; it’s practically a genre. But one man’s meat is another man’s poison, and one man’s (end of) It’s a Wonderful Life is another man’s (middle section of) It’s a Wonderful Life. Which is to say that what makes me happy might not make you happy. I found this when doing a bit of research for this list; as is common, I often have quite a few ideas when I’ve thought of a topic, but I like to Google it (or Bing it, as I get Microsoft Reward Points and I’m saving up for a few months of Game Pass), just in case there’s some obvious film that has escaped my mental grasp. In this case what I found was some of the films that people consider to be uplifting are downright weird – Forrest Gump? Really? And a lot of truly mediocre romcoms seem to float people’s happiness boats, from the wildly uneven Love Actually to the tepid You’ve Got Mail to the overlong and overly twee The Holiday (a film which I hated on first watch but which has grown on me, Stockholm-style, as I’ve seen it over and over again every year). And some people even list stuff like Lord of the Rings or Star Wars or Pirates of the Caribbean; good movies, true, but are they feel-good? I mean, loads of people die in all those films; in one of them an actual planet blows up. I know we like zombie monkeys and Harrison Ford in a waistcoat, but they’re not really the most relentlessly cheerful films, are they?

Or are they? I mean, when I got right down to it, there were quite a few blowy-uppy pictures that are genuine comfort blankets for me (Air Force One, which I watched so much at one point that I used to fall comfortably asleep to it when I was on my own, nearly made the cut). So, y’know, who am I to judge? I think what makes us feel comfortable, happy, and upbeat can be wildly diverse and erratic, even within our own taste window.

And really that’s what I was after here; comfort movies, films that uplift or inspire or just, well, make you smile. Not just because we’ve blown up the Death Star or because Tom Hanks has snogged Meg Ryan again. But there’s something about the film, from its story to its characters to its composition, that is continuously joyful.

So whether we’re lifting a glass in celebration or drowning our sorrows with an armful of Stella, here’s to the films that make us feel better. Chin up, folks. It might never happen!

Paddington 2 (2017): what is it about this film that evokes such joy? I’d say everything, from the script to the performances to the music to the shot choices. The bad guy is funny, the dire situations rarely threatening, almost everyone is nice, and it ends with a redemption and a musical number. Beyond all that, though, Paddington himself is such a supernova of absolute goodness that you can’t help but feel optimistic just by watching him. It’s perfect, really.

WALL-E (2008): a film that starts with the end of the world but it gets better. It’s a cinematic joy, the virtually dialogue-free opening giving us dystopic vistas and a real sense of mood. But it’s WALL-E himself who brings the real feels, a mechanical wonder who does nothing but make other people happy and improve their lives almost by accident. he saves the human race and the planet simply by trying to be nice to one person at a time, and that’s a hell of an optimistic message.

When Harry Met Sally (1989): far sarkier than the other two films, and obviously a bit more, well, grown up (we all know what you must not do with Mister Zero), this is nonetheless a beautiful film. A slow-burning romance between two friendly, funny people, witticisms flying from every mouth, some absolute, genuine emotional stakes that you really, really care about, and the single most romantic ending a film has ever had.

Groundhog Day (1993): let’s face it, it’s the best film either Harold Ramis or Bill Murray has ever been involved in, and I bought every issue of Transformers/Ghostbusters. A tour-de-force of cynicism and sourness from Murray, but he gradually unravels (in more ways than one), becoming a happier and better person. It’s funny, it’s sweet, and the complexities of its chronally-displaced plot means there’s loads you can unpick. Masterfully written, directed, and edited, and that’s some of its joy, too.

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994): the Coens have, obviously, made a lot of very good films, and not all of them are darkly serious (No Country) or darkly hilarious (Fargo); they also have lighter fare, but none as floaty-light or so supremely joyous as Hudsucker. The script is pure screwball but also a precisely-honed, fast-spoken, Golden Age charm; the performances are all fantastic (we also get the best Lois Lane, Perry White, and Steve Lombard scene ever shot, and it’s not even in a Superman film). Look, it’s hilarious, it’s arch, it’s fantastically put-together, and it’s actually, genuinely hopeful and optimistic. It’s my favourite Coen Brothers movie.

Singin' in the Rain (1952): I’ve always got a lot of love for movies about Old Hollywood, but Singin’ isn’t really some kind of backstage satire; really, it’s a story about love, honesty, and creativity – movies are just the backdrop. But it’s the songs. Let’s face it, it’s the songs – and dances. These are some of the most joyous songs put to celluloid, and Gene Kelly absolutely attacks them from all sides. But I’ve gotta say, my favourite number is probably Donald O’Connor running up the walls in “Make ‘Em Laugh”.

Strictly Ballroom (1992): there’s a personal touch to this one, as my wife and I chose “Love is in the Air” for the first dance at our wedding. But there’s more to this film than memories of me being a shit dancer: it’s a supremely romantic film, possibly the most enjoyable straight-up romance from Luhrmann’s Red Curtain trilogy (spoiler alert: no one dies). A great underdog tale, two kids taking down a corrupt system, a story of the unlikely girl nabbing the hot guy; it’s timeless, it’s well-told, and its unusual setting (ballroom dancing competitions in Australia) gives it an extra kick.

My Neighbour Totoro (1988): Ghibli films often present us with a nicer, fairer world, where even the nasty monsters are there to teach us important lessons, or at the very least plucky kids can do the right thing and save the day. Totoro is different in that there isn’t an antagonist; there isn't much drama or, really, plot. It’s two very small girls dealing with a complex life situation, and also a giant bear-monster thing with a massive mouth who could be scary but is actually really nice and magical and saves the day because the girls deserve it, and also there’s a hollow cat that’s also a bus. It’s fantastic, but it’s also so nice, just a load of nice people and nice monsters being nice to each other, and if – let's say – the elements can be good, can't we be good too?

Die Hard (1988): yeah, okay, contradiction corner; a supremely violent and sweary action movie that makes me “feel good”. Is it the bit where he throws a bomb down a lift? Or shoots a dude from beneath a table? Or when Ellis dies? Honestly, yeah, there’s a little bit of that; the action stuff is so well-done. But it’s also a film with a ton of heart and soul and wit and life. John McClane is a masterpiece of character design, a gruff cop with a heart of gold, a capable action hero but also a working-class schmo who just wants to try to get back with his wife. He struggles and bleeds and doubts himself; he’s not a superman. The villains are incredible, with great lines and great designs and a great scheme; you care about these guys, they’re interesting. There's a part of you that wants Gruber to get away as much as you want John and Holly to get back together. It's a Christmas movie, all about family and forgiveness, and It's just plain fun, uncynical and sentimental and really, really funny. It's the best action movie ever made, I watch it every year, and it brings me great, great comfort and joy.

The American President (1995): oh no, too soon! But I couldn’t include The West Wing in a list of feel-good films, so this is the next best thing; smart public servants being smart, as well as moral and just, wearing their immense power with the right amount of humility. Sorkin really believes in the majesty of the office of President, and the founding myth of America and what that means, and he makes you believe in it too. His dialogue is, of course, exceptional, witty bon-mots and one-liners, but the love story is great too; two people finding each other later in life and trying to make it work despite everything. So it’s a great film, a funny film, a sweet film, a romantic film, but also kinda important; a film that makes you aspire to higher ideals, that gives you hope and confidence in the institutions of government. I suppose it is a fantasy – God knows, the last four years have shaken these institutions to their very core, over here as much as in the States – but The American President can make you believe again.

There you go. Ten films that just make me happy if I'm down, or cement that happiness if I'm already in the mood. All of these films, you’ll notice, are also very, very good; not some kind of “guilty pleasure” (if such a thing exists; don’t pleasure-shame!). Funnily enough, it’s the quality of the films that adds to their charm; I appreciate the craft as much as the plot or theme or performances. Like when I watch American President (or, more accurately, The West Wing) and I just enjoy seeing people good at their jobs be good at their jobs, then watching a well-made film makes me happy because I like seeing people good at their jobs be good at their jobs.

Anyway. Tear yourself away from Twitter, stop refreshing fivethirtyeight.com, pour yourself a drink, and – hopefully – make yourself happy this weekend. Unless you voted for Trump, then you can get in a bin.

#top ten #feel-good films #feel-good movies #movies #happy #optimism #biden #harris

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ruminativerabbi · 4 years

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COVID-Diary, Week Eight

As we enter the—what is it, anyway, the seventh week of stay-home/lock-down or the seventeenth?—well, whatever week this is (for the record, it’s the eighth: Governor Cuomo’s original state-of-emergency declaration was on March 7), as we enter this interminable period of unsatisfying stillness (if it were only possible, I think I’ve become even less good at Zen-style quietude in the service of inward-directly insight than previously), as we move forward towards the great goal of beating this damned thing without actually moving at all, I think I’ve had enough. (My prose is suffering too: that last sentence is only theoretically possible because it clearly does exist, not because it should.) I think we all have. And so, as we enter the third month (that actually is correct) of doing something by doing nothing, of moving forward by remaining in place, of feeling daring when we venture forth to the grocery to buy a package of cookies or a tomato (I bought several just a few days ago and have hardly calmed down since—big, red, juicy ones too: delicious and hopeful non-poisonous, perfect for making into delicious and hopefully non-poisonous sauce), as we do this thing that Governor Cuomo wants us all to do to make our state safe—and our county and the tiny piece of it we call home and in which we once used to interact with our neighbors and friends in physical space rather than in the context of semi-real virtual reality (and who are we really kidding?) projected on our computer screens—as we stick to the rules of non-interaction with the world other than when we venture forth to buy staples (in an amusing aside, I actually went to Staples the other day and bought, among other things, a package of staples), as we do The Right Thing and make ourselves and each other, ideally, safe, we need to be more proud of this massive effort we have undertaken than we are irritated by the way it has impacted on our former lives, versions of existence in which buying a tomato was an ordinary and uninteresting chore instead of a daring and death-defying act of survivalism. I suppose my mood is coming through in my prose. And it’s true: I actually am feeling a little all-over-the-place these days. The sauce, by the way, was delicious, even if served—regretfully but also responsibly—on our last package of Pesach pasta.

It would be easy to be cynical as we try to do something by doing nothing. Are we, to quote myself, like demented warriors trying to break into a walled city by throwing snowflakes at its ramparts? Or—as we all prefer to think—are we doing precisely the right thing by standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the actual physicians, nurses and health care workers on the front lines—those specific people for whose wellbeing and whose safety we pray daily on our Shelter Rock Zoom platform—are we standing with those people by in our own way doing our part to wrestle the pandemic to the ground and own it in the precise way it has so far managed instead to own us? Surely, that latter option must be the correct one. And yet there’s a little bit of me seated on both sides of that specific aisle. To speak wholly honestly, I suppose I don’t really know what to think. The numbers seem slightly encouraging just lately. But that has to be weighed against the fact that 337 New Yorkers died last Sunday alone of COVID-19, bringing the state-wide total of those lost to the pandemic to 17,303. By the time you read this, of course, that number will be higher. By hundreds.

And so I present myself this week in conflict…with myself: optimistic and pessimistic, hopeful and worried, fearful and (sometimes, although mostly not so much) fearless, cynical and incredibly impressed by what we have done in only a few weeks to adapt to a new normal that none of us saw coming.

I spent two and a half hours this week watching—and loving—the 90th birthday tribute to Stephen Sondheim on youtube. (Click here if you haven’t watched dozens of Broadway’s greatest stars singing a broad, cleverly-chosen selection of Broadway’s greatest composer’s best songs and I think I can promise that you won’t be disappointed.) I’ve been a fan my whole life, or at least ever since the ten-year-old me was taken by my parents to see A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum at the Mark Hellinger Theater. (That was not my first Broadway show, however—my grandmother took me to see My Fair Lady when I was even younger than that—nor was it Sondheim’s: West Side Story and Gypsy were both earlier, but Funny Thing was the first huge hit for which Sondheim wrote both the music and the lyrics.)

Sondheim is our national muse of ambiguity. Not by any means a cynic, his lyrics more than anything else express a deep sense of ambivalence about…basically about everything: about love, marriage, and relationships in general; about friendship; about the value of work; about the nature of art and artistic creation; about the power of music; about the inviolate nature of those human relationships widely deemed to be the ones that simply cannot dissolve in irritation or pique, or even in fully justifiable rage—the ones between parents and children, between siblings, between the kind of best friends who truly are each other’s soulmates, between lovers, etc. That’s what I hear the most clearly, for example, when doomed Tony, blissfully unaware that he won’t live out the day, sings out that he’s certain there’s a miracle due, one that’s gonna come true, one that he’s sure is coming to him even before he actually meets Maria. And it’s what I hear when the baker’s wife in Into the Woods, who will also not live out the day, sings about her decision to return to her husband after her brief affair with the prince, when she opts for “or” instead of “and” and decides to “let the moment go / don’t forget it for a moment though / just remembering you’ve had an ‘and’ when you’re back to ‘or’ makes the ‘or’ mean more than it did before.” And it’s what I hear when the maid sings out—I think I somehow understood this, by the way, even as a naïve twenty-one-year-old watching A Little Night Music for the first time—when she sings out that “it’s a very short road from the pinch and the punch to the paunch and the pouch and the pension / it’s a very short road to the ten thousandth lunch and the belch and the grouch and the sigh.”

None of those sentiments is at all foreign to me. You do make your decisions in life and then live with the consequences. You do eventually have to choose “or” over “and.” You basically never know what’s about to happen. And it really does all fly by in the flash of an eye.

But there’s also a different side of me, one that also keeps jumping out at me from the cupboard these days: the one of non-ambivalence, of commitment undertaken and maintained, of values somehow becoming more, not less, firmly held as I grow older. Someone sent me a video created by the Masorti Movement—the Israeli version of Conservative Judaism—in which are intertwined the words of the 126th psalm (“those who sow in tears shall reap in joy / those who go forth weeping bearing seeds for sowing shall return shouting with joy as they carry their ripe sheaves back home”), the words of Hatikvah (“as long as the Jewish spirit yearns deep in the heart…then our two-thousand-year-old hope to be a free people in our own land will be realized and not come to naught”), and the words of Saul Tchernikhovky’s famous short poem “Laugh, Laugh at My Dreams” (“Go, make fun of me for believing in humankind / for I even believe in you / and, indeed, for as long as my soul yearns to be free / I shall not sell it out for a calf of gold”). I’m usually a bit impervious to that kind of video, but I actually found myself moved—and incredibly so—by its sincerity, by the profundity of its single idea, and by the way it so perfectly framed the sentiments that co-exist in my own heart with the Sondheimian ambivalence about the universe referenced above. (To see the video for yourself, click here and you’ll see what I mean.)

Do I have to choose? This week brought more horribleness, more sickness, and more death. But it also brought us Yom Hazikkaron, the day of remembrance on which we recall the 23,816 men and women of the Israel Defense Forces who gave their lives in the defense of the State of Israel since statehood was declared in 1948, and Yom Ha-atzma·ut, the seventy-second anniversary of Israeli independence. My native cynicism dissolves in the contemplation of both those days and is replaced by a deep sense of purpose, commitment, and faith. There will always be a bit of Sondheim in my soul, which is probably a good thing. (I heard that. And, yes, I am being ambivalent about ambivalence. How amusing!) But, at least this week, I feel that part of me overwhelmed by other sentiments featured on my constellation of personal emotions, on my private zodiac—and faith and hope foremost among them—as I look out at the trees suddenly in full bloom all around and feel inspired to look neither to the past nor to the side, but to the future.

#COVID-19 #Stephen Sondheim #Saul Tchernikhovsky #Hatikvah

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formsofsound-blog · 7 years

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Kendrick Lamar’s Alternative Universe: A DAMN. Review

At this point in the story, Kendrick Lamar is the king, the God MC that he prophesied himself to be. He sits on the throne, insulting anyone who dares to contradict his status.

He spends days at in a time in a haze of weed smoke and paranoia. He’s the best in the game and everyone knows it, but he’s listened to enough ‘Pac and Jay to know that the struggle never ends. The stakes just get higher.

Sucker-ass rappers take subliminal shots at the king; police, who could care less about your status, pose a looming threat; Fox News seeks to discredit your reputation for laughs.

The people who love you, though, demand perhaps the biggest share from you: inspiration and uplifting messages in our time of chaos. You’re the rap game Martin Luther King, and you’ve seen the Mountaintop, but you’re still fundamentally alone.

Then you remember that MLK died a pariah, fundamentally alone after speaking out against Vietnam, assassinated while trying to get a breath of fresh air on a motel balcony. The man wasn’t even entitled to a 10-minute break from it all.

For Kendrick, the prospect being of gunned down in cold blood is both a brutal reality and a fascinating plot device. The threat of death makes him see time in a non-traditional and non-linear way. What if death can bring about alternative timelines for our daily existence?

***

DAMN. begins with Kendrick, in fact, getting gunned down as he drifts through the streets of Compton. One imagines him slowly walking past palm trees, projects, homeless people, liquor stores, burger joints and the homies. He lets his words hang in the backdrop of spaghetti Western-like soundtrack: So I was taking a walk the other day...

Kendrick’s tales are always crafted to biblical proportion, so it is no coincidence that he re-imagines himself as the Good Samaritan as he offers to help “a blind woman” on the street.

Kendrick has once again set himself up as the savior, to the rap game, to his fans, to everyone seeking refuge and “assistance” from him.

He is denied his expectation: the blind woman shoots him dead and somehow thrusts the listener into our bizarre contemporary world, where Kendrick, instead of dying, is the new king, lavishly and viciously celebrating his time as king of the rap game. He is, however, irrevocably hardened, cynical and lonely, somehow worse off than when he was just another “good kid” navigating the “mad city.”

The blind woman and her gunshot are not mentioned again until the final lines of the album’s final song, but don’t let him fool you: Kendrick is sending us to an alternative timeline, one that we recognize as 2017.

“DNA.” is borne out of this timeline. King Kendrick gets vicious in his dismissals of his rivals: “I’d rather die than to listen to you...your DNA is an abomination.” Fuckboys are predestined to be suckers according to this genetic theory, but the king is still the one who has to deal with it.

Despite his frenetic and even unhinged energy, at the end he seems weary. “Sex, money, murder—our DNA!” he scowls, sounding like a righteous man doomed with having to participate in licentiousness.

The “ain’t nobody praying for me” trio of songs—“YAH.”, “ELEMENT.” and “FEEL.” cements Kendrick’s success-fueled isolation. Kendrick’s complaint that no one has prayed for him ever since both of his grandmothers died is brutally honest, and borne from a self-preservationist mentality that comes from growing up in the hood.

He repeats, ad infinitum, that same “ain’t nobody praying for me” mantra, taking it to dazzling self-pitying heights.

His repetition of the phrase sounds dutiful and solemn, and similar to, well, a prayer. Kendrick’s slogan, however, is more dark and desperate than a traditional prayer.

“FEAR.” is an all-time Kendrick classic, and also, characteristically, the weirdest song on a weird album. This is the album’s centerpiece before its twist ending sneak attacks you.

Kendrick begins the song with the old-school soul sample flip found on the second section of “The Heart Pt. 4.” In the background you hear a distant yet clear voice: “I’ve been hungry all my life. I’m starving.”

When Kendrick’s cousin Carl Duckworth makes a cameo at the beginning of the track, though, everything literally goes to hell. His cousin Carl leaves Kendrick a voicemail pleading for Kendrick to adopt a vengeful, Old Testament God-like philosophy on life. He tells Kendrick that people of color are Israelites, “a cursed people” who God will continually punish until they repent for following false Gods.

His voice fades, and we hear Kendrick rapping in reverse, rapping in tongues, or possibly both. His alternate reality is showing a wormhole. We get the first signs that the reality presented on this album thus far has been incomplete, and somehow fake.

Are we living in a simulation where time is elastic and subject to reversal? Dot clearly is on “FEAR.”, as he time travels to different parts of his life: when he was 7, 17, & 27.

Each age brings a healthy portion of danger and death: his mom threatens to beat his ass a million times in the first verse, he lists all of the ways he could die as a disturbingly listless seventeen year old, and he has more confidence by the time he’s 27, but at this point he has a lot more pressure too. He continues his resentment and defensiveness towards his status as king.

“DUCKWORTH.” is the album’s head-spinning closer, the song that would launch a thousand think-pieces.

It is the magnum opus of the album, wondrously and concisely weaving together the story of Anthony “Top Dawg” Tiffith, the founder and owner of Top Dawg records who signed Kendrick, and the optimistic KFC worker known as “Ducky,” who happens to be Kendrick’s father.

Top Dawg could have killed Kendrick’s father when he robbed the restaurant, but he chose not to because Ducky was a cool guy who, knowing Top’s reputation as someone not to be fucked with, would give him free food whenever he patronized the KFC.

Ducky went on to father the “greatest rapper alive,” who is signed to Top’s label. “Who would have thought the greatest rapper came from coincidence?” Kendrick asks.

Then the record does something unprecedented. It reverses the preceding record’s worth of songs in a dazzling and chaotic speed, reminiscent of a CD or tape while holding the “rewind” button.

Then the words that started the album also end the album: “So I was taking a walk the other day...”

Kendrick’s framing of the whole album as a simulation, as a “what if?” scenario, rings unfortunately true for our times.

K. Dot’s alternative universe mirrors the “alternative facts”-like rhetoric trafficked in modern political talk. Kendrick presents us with ambiguity and more questions rather than easy answers. These are muddled times, so he gives us allegory instead of prophesy.

Kendrick reminds us that the world we’re living in is in fact real. Kendrick shouldn’t be where he is — twenty-something and ruling the rap game — but he is.

By a miracle of timing and coincidence, Kendrick exists, which leads one to think of how many Kendricks had no father, how many Top Dawgs served life behind bars, and how many Duckys were murdered for nothing.

Ducky was kept alive for essentially nothing — the price of his life was some free chicken and biscuits that likely would have been thrown in the dumpster at the end of the day.

This is the mystery central to the album.

Why are people’s lives altered in un-knowable ways due to details as small as the one that saved Ducky? When Kendrick contemplates what it would be like if Top had shot Ducky, you get a sense that he really knows the score. He himself would likely be locked up or in jail without a father to guide him and a label to support his poetry.

He would be an artist damned. Not damned to die, but to live in squandered opportunity and shattered dreams, to live in house with no love.

To know that somewhere along the way, you were cursed to live this life when you should have been a king.

#kendrick lamar #damn.#hip hop review

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opalmothnightingale · 6 years

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5- 13- 18 - I’d like to write more about, maybe eventually,...

my circle of friends and what we’d even talk about, and write about,... If I had real friends who I talked and wrote to much. And things we’d do together. The kinds of people, traits they’d have, beliefs we might share, traits, ways of seeing and taking in and processing, perceiving the world around us, and also perspectives, values and things we really do live daily all day who we are... And things like this, these have arisen to my mind, a little lately,

...so ok. If I realize it now, when the ideas and feelings and urge to write rise up like that,...

Then the time often is right to write it, or even plant a seed of intent at least, to write, later. And, I am doing at least that... We’ll see what comes to fruit of it and when or how, if, but there’s not rush, just inspiration, and happiness, the feeling that things are possible, in this way, at last, for now, feeling of it more so here,... Vision of it clearer, more real, sense-able, as in, ...

Hm, I just think that I sense it,... Believable, detailed,

.... and the hows and beautiful full real possibilities,...

I think,... So happy because I used to have wonderful, amazing, deep, supportive compatible, unique friends I loved, but after so much time, I have changed so much,... Felt I was too different to ever find close friends, but I am somehow sensing that is not really so, but it has to be felt the way forward, because it’s true most wouldn’t, couldn’t even if they wanted to, ...

and truly lastingly, deeply, really most caringly,... we then really can be good friends with me, because I just need what they can’t give and vice versa... Yet, I am feeling more today and lately, it’s possible to really find good friends,

... who are what I need and I am what they also need in a friendship,... Something often overlooked I think, among adults, right, or infrequent, slight, distant interactions often? But for me I want deep close conversations, even just letters though, which in my mind can be like that,... And I think it is actually possible for me,

... Really, so, after all, rather likely, at least,... With the right insights, looking in just the right places and finding them by finding just the right way to get to know them, talk to them, how to open up our unusual worlds to each other so we can actually not be separate secret universes,... But feel safe and supported to share our secret hidden worlds, which anyway I’m a secret world, and I think some people are so self contained, secret, hermits, all their richness inside only, never shared with anyone,...

And they are often scared to share or show but somehow I feel I can find them and I can be safe, they can be safe,... Why not? It can’t be that difficult to do, right? Maybe,... Introverts unite,...

Not only that, but far more strange indeed, haha... weird, spiritual, etc introverts and all that too that I need that is so weird that I have to hide and protect from most, but surely not all. It will take time, and seeing in the darkness and people who understand all the taboos without judgment but total support and empathy and openness and understanding, but I think they do exist. I know I’m not the only one who sees clearly about these things... And cares and makes it a big part of my daily life and purpose and goals in life and things like this... Without being pretentious or dramatic, still being creative and flowing and spontaneous and childlike, sensitive, humble, etc, truly not just aiming and trying or making an identity off the idea rather than deeply lived and understood values that are who one is in a lived process day by day in every important action, in the heart, in the intuition and feeling.

I could go on and on about it but I think I’m straying from the basic idea, which is friends, what kind of friends, traits, values, etc, and what to talk, write, etc how to relate and what to do,... Because I think there are many examples of what they could be like, to relate to me, but that is for my later writing, and also writing a list,... I’ll write a list, to create vision and inspire me.

Lest this sound like a silly thing, it’s not. Everyone is obsesssed with romance, why not friendship, I wonder... It can be just as and even more rewarding for some. Less danger and dependency, too, if it’s healthy, then hopefully not any of that, which I also aim for. Less drama, negativity, toxicity, can draw the line and make good boundaries so that never has any place to grow,...

To really grow and improve ourselves, in similar paths,... I would like that, in my friendships. Empathy and support, but not too much of my precious emotional and psychological wellness and balance diverted to problems I can’t help, have nothing useful to say and they just weight me down and ...

then to just leave me recuperating for hours or days after the dumping on me. No. I am not the person for that, right now, not strong enough myself to resist the tide of it. So, it makes absolutely no sense even if,...

Even if I understand negativity, pessimism, depression, etc, etc...

I do understand, really, but,.. I don’t have enough to spare but have to have this kind of light, pleasant input all the time except the occasional diving into problem solving, mostly only my own emergencies which drain me far too too much,...

I wish I didn’t have so much burdening me to a crawl in my life so often, depressive, pre anxiety, etc... It feels like much too much already, but I have no choice,...

With my own crises, no real choice, as I can’t and don’t want to go in denial and escapism any more... No choice now but to face them... So, if they’re in the same boat,...

And as long as they really are ready for the solutions we can share, then we can be support together,... And we can be helped by the same things,... Similar enough, at least, of course, each person is always unique, in each suffering situation,,... but similar enough to relate...

...my solutions to my own problems, then that’s good but otherwise, ...

it’s just more than I can give usually at this point I guess. The question is, are they ready to really implement the solutions and can we grow or are they not and can I not help them? Then that route of relating is closed so we can ...

Instead, only meet at the level of compartmentalized happy and bright side of our personalities, if they are able to do that. Occasional venting if they have earned it, only very occasionally because it costs me too heavily for hours, days, even triggering cycles of depression because I’m too fragile, sometimes, cycles lasting weeks, months. I just am too fragile I guess. One day maybe things might change... Hmm,...

Then I can really be like the light in the dark those people might need and be open to, who empathizes, doesn’t judge, pressure, push, rush, intrude, just listens, cares, offers good solutions, and is there, just to be there, ...

and to distract, meditatively be, together feel less alone, more calm another world just by someone who you know really understands, cares and supports you even if you don’t have to talk or do anything right now or mostly,...

I guess, most of the time, if it would be too much to expect me to even talk,... Alas but then also I’m not even the only one who is like this,...

Either way, whatever may be, in real life, ... but to have them just being there, with their magical self, personality, fullness, mind, heart, intuition, insightfulness and innovativeness, creative wonder and joy and pleasure that is open,... That is alive,...

And never shuts down, tired, bored and dull, for too long,...

Never,... because they’re mindful, wonder filled,

... We have discovered, uncovered once again, that is really is so,..

So wide awake and overflowing and full with the possibility to be this way,...

What a treasure,... One or both of us can be like this, and raise the other when one is down. The seesaw of life,... Of friendship.

I feel, eventually, often, much or most of the time, I can be like a child, ... I really can acquire, am collecting the abilities and practices, angles to view to make myself feel, always,...

Just ever new things to notice, savor, do, talk about, ... And share with those who can feel it and appreciate, open, too,... and not feel embarrassed, too silly, too strange, too childlike, only feeling the novel sensations, mindfulness, beauty, because we share the same tastes for experiences and angles, imagination, sensation, and spiritual supernatural channels of life beaming down on us too.

and question, create, imagine,

to write, feel with all five and sixth and more senses.

...And then to, also, happily do fun things, just feel, process emotions, break beautifully,... Understanding what it’s like. As much as anyone can, or as much as a friend can, anyway, I guess. Like it used to be in high school friendships that were positive, naiive, idealistic, but hopeful not just cynical or too cheerful, repressed, overly optimistic, nor overly pessimistic, just so real,...

So open, open mind, open heart, open creativity, open hope... That is what I would love, before the world’s narrowness and predictable routines took over and made people out of touch with their dreams, heart, hopes, ideals, beliefs, traumatized

... Sigh, yeah,...

That I wonder, I think maybe,so many traumatized sensitive souls shut down or cycled into negativity and severe mental illness or soul searching but without answers, or nearly enough answers,... Life is so busy, crazy, chaotic, ...

chaos without good directions, so often it seems, but plenty of fears, bad ideas or directions, etc.. Escapism, judgment, negativity, cynicism, and numbness, all around. Superiority and inferiority, often the superiority only covering inner feeling of inferiority, but it still impresses others, to see someone who can be cynical and critical, so often,... It’s like a disease that inhibits,...

So, yeah, it’s so insane, that the world can be so good at doing this, but it seems it is, with the variety of things to lead you astray. Ideas, pressures, escapism, values, lack of clarity and taking values too far or feeling there is no clear answer among the values that conflict,... So even a morally empathic and very caring person often is pulled in just as readily, and,... It’s not clear, unless someone teaches you that rare way to see it clearly and avoid the traps,... And,

... So I see all these people who didn’t do anything that bad,...

Nothing too out of the ordinary on the surface and just had normal seeming lives, parents, etc, too,... But I get the feeling maybe

... that they were, are still traumatized by life and society, just as it is, because they’re so sensitive that it’s like this,... So they’re stuck at this level, getting by, suffering inside to varying degrees of torment, and habitual anxiety relief that often makes them like zombies,... I know because I’ve been there. I can see signs that remind me of the past me, and it makes me wonder if they’re going through the same thing I did. I wish, would like, if I reasonably could, to help... Might I? How, if so, Spirit? I pray, because no one should be caught in this senseless wheel of shame, confusion,... and so many other possible bad things that it can go into as well... So many directions from a kind of meaningless, but light, and, empty sadness,... and all the way to full blown torture and wishing one could die, or wanting to,... and worse,... SIgh. It doesn’t seem fair, sane or right that innocent, good people could unravel to this point, ... and so many people I think might be this way... if I am sensing and reading things right, ...

I wonder. What do you think?

So that, the trauma of being and being aware in this world as it is....

There is suffering and there is ending of suffering,... Buddhism felt right to me, for a long time. But now I see joy and euphoria possible inside the realm that is beyond the “end of suffering” ... Which is still full of pain, and I haven’t reached it and not sure I ever will or want to fully, but... enough relief of suffering at least,... to be most effective for myself and others,...

So though, yeah, these people are seemingly traumatized by the world just being as it is...

I think,... and just, disillusioned, Life is so hard, almost feeling to be impossible, The pursuit of happiness is a right to try, not to have, which is up to luck and whatever else...

But people seem so suffering, yeah, traumatized, disillusioned,... and from there, ... also, often, ...

stuck on a treadmill of ...

too overwhelmed, losing their minds kind of at some level, going unconscious, not knowing what to do even if they weren’t too stressed and tired emotionally and mentally,... to even feel like doing much when they get a chance,... To do the goals and self improvement things they set for themselves and procrastinate and leave behind in the dust,...

The drought, ... of decay and forgottenness or regret or both...

Oh the daily bored tired blah sadness or dysfunction, dull and numb states ... Yes of existence, but not feeling really alive anymore it seems to me,

...and so many of my friends... A happy face for the pictures but I sense something brewing underneath even though we never talk anymore.

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creepypasta-fictions · 7 years

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The Teacher (pt.2)

HEADS UP: I’m unsure as to whether or not this will have a part 3, but if so, it probably won’t be as long as part 1 and 2.

What do you think Susan will do now?

Three days after the murder of Nicole Partington, Susan was sitting in her bedroom, at her desk, at 2am, struggling to comprehend Actus Reus and Omissions. This was an extremely rare occasion; Susan usually had all of her homework done by at least 7pm every single day, nor did she struggle; she actually found most of her work easy, however, all of her attempts of understanding this piece of work had proved futile so far, despite the fact she hadn’t been getting anywhere for about three hours. Her mind was just elsewhere.

In frustration, she flung her pen across the room and cursed “FUCK!” Out loud. She then lay her now heavy head onto the desk and just groaned miserably. However, she was interrupted from her cynical thoughts by a knock on her bedroom door.

“Susan Joanne Higginson, what have I told you about using language in this house whilst you’ve got a little brother?”

“Sorry mom,” she mumbled from the other side of the door.

Susan’s mom understood her so well it was scary. She didn’t even have to be in the same room to tell what her mood was. It was almost as if she was constantly reading her mind. That was many reasons why Susan and her mom were very close. Another reason was that her mother always remained optimistic yet realistic at the same time. She would support Susan in all of her goals, including her long time goal to be a district attorney, however she would never let her daughter’s hopes climb too high. She was cautious not to knock Susan’s self confidence down, however, she would always break it to her gently if she felt as though her daughter was striving for something beyond the realms of possible.

“Honey, can I come in? There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” Her mother could sense correctly. In a way, it irritated Susan that she always got worried, but at the same time, she was relieved because she knew she could get everything off of her chesr whilst her mother was listening. She gently cracked open the door and tiptoed inside, sitting on Susan’s bed.

“What’s been going on with you this past week?” She looked at her distressed bedhead daughter, then to her desk which was snowed in layers upon layers of disorganised paper assignments, to the pen in which Susan had flung across the room. Before joining her mother on the bed, Susan took a deep breath and sighed.

“Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Her blue eyes bore into Susan’s brown ones with deep concentration and eagerness to listen to whatever problems she was about to address.

“If you know something’s happening in our community, and you wanna do something to prevent it, is that an omission?”

Chewing on her lower lip, her mother remained deep in thought for a second before her nose crinkled up in the wake of her signature smile. She then laughed softly. “Oh, Susan, you’ve been watching way too many of those criminology documentaries, haven’t you?”

“No mom, but I’ve been watching the news,” Her voice hitched with that last sentence as her mother witnessed a shiver go down Susan’s spine. Scrutinising her face and body language, she knew exactly what her daughter was talking about.

“You know you can’t do anything about him, right? The police will get him one way or another, no matter who he is. I know he only seems to be going for the young and vulnerable law students such as yourself, and I’m frightened as hell, I’m going to be honest with you, but you’re a smart girl, Susan. I know your instincts will serve you well over these psychopaths. You’re so observant, it’s unbelievable sometimes. There’s no way he can catch you.”

“That’s not the only thing that scares me about the news, mom. A girl from my class at Harvard was killed three days ago. Nicole Partington.”

“I heard about that too. Her mom was always so nice, I feel terrible.”

Susan nodded in agreement. “It’s not my obligation to do anything though, is it?”

“Of course not. But if you witnessed anything happen, you would tell someone, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would, mom. You know me, I’m always trying to be responsible.”

“That’s a good girl. I understand how bright and eager your brain is when it comes to law, however you’re 18 years old and still a student, there’s no need to go all ‘Detective Higginson’ on us.” This made Susan giggle slightly.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks mom, you’re right. You always know what to say.”

“Ok sweetie. And you know what to do!” She ruffled the top of Susan’s already tousled hair.

****

When Susan walked into law the next morning, the cold and unwelcoming atmosphere hit her straight away, like a sudden gust of wind upon a high mountain. The entire class were not socialising and busybodying with their friends, which was immediately striking as odd. Instead, some were crying, others with their heads facing down towards their desk, and the rest were absent. Susan took her place beside a traumatised and startled Amy.

She stared at the clock. The teacher was already late, which immediately struck Susan as peculiar because he was always on time. In fact, sometimes he could be seen preparing for the day hours before lectures even started, in his classroom. Usually reading a newspaper.

The silence was deafening. Three minutes had already passed and there was no sign of Mr Blackburn’s arrival. Not even his distinctively sharp footsteps of a clinking noise against the tiles was coherent at this time. A part of Susan’s brain told her to write him off as being in staff briefing, however, another part of her told differently.

When the teacher finally arrived, he was 16 minutes late into the lecture. Surprisingly, no more students had entered the room since either. So he walked into about half a class, and they were all mostly situated on one side the classroom - the opposite side to the teacher’s desk. One chair had been removed from a certain desk, and that seemed to be the desk everyone had their gloomy eyes boring into.

The teacher’s cat eyes scoured the room in a brisk glance for any signs of distraction. When he found none, he cleared his throat. But it wasn’t his signature, rusty clear of throat. It was slow and sounded almost painful, as if he had been over stretching it the previous few nights.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” As usual though, his slimy tone sent shivers through Susan’s body. “As you are most likely aware by now, a student in our class has sadly passed away.” With that, he pointed a long, bony finger towards the empty desk where the chair had been removed. Nicole Partington.

“Now, I’m sure a moment of silence to pay our respects to Nicole is not too much to ask, yessss?” He did not seem sincere at all. This is what really pissed Susan off. Amy noticed the frustration flowing through her veins, and placed a hand atop of hers. Furious, Susan turned her attention back to the teacher, who was just sitting at his desk looking over paperwork. She felt awful for turning her attention away from Nicole, however she couldn’t help but note the teacher was still wearing his gloves. He had taken off his coat - a different coat from usual - and he was writing wearing his gloves. When Susan pointed this out to Amy, she knew it was a huge mistake. Because Amy being Amy, had to call out.

“Mr Blackburn, sir, wouldn’t it be easier to hold a pen without gloves on?” Everyone in the room suddenly froze and gave Amy a “what the hell” glare. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand after she realised she had broke the silence too soon. Everyone’s eyes were boring right through her, but the most sinister and intense of all; Mr Blackburn. It was as though he was watching her soul, her inner being.

“Miss Parker, you have been warned several times to keep your attention on the class subject, and not to call out at certain times when you see fit. It is disrespectful and you are not in middle school anymore. Have some respect.” He spat coldly before turning back to his desk in frustration. The atmosphere for the rest of the lesson made Susan’s stomach turn and her heart beat faster. She was unsure why, but there was an inexplicable sense of foreboding rattling around inside of her, and it was agitated every time she set eyes on Mr Blackburn. She tried to avert them as much as possible, but there was something even more strange about him. And this time, unfortunately, she failed to brush it off like she usually did.

****

“Why is he so snotty? I was just trying to be nice,” Amy whined halfway through the lecture. Susan was unsure what to say. She knew that which ever way she went with this, she would somehow be wrong. Amy was stubborn, but there was just no winning in this case. “Amy, he’s a creep. The sooner you see this, the better. You’re just making life hard for yourself. You’re a hot girl and you’re going to find a hot guy who is right for you, there’s literally no point being infatuated with a creepy old teacher who gets on your back at all costs!” Amy stared Susan straight in the eyes, a hint of malice running through her compressed face. “You think he gets on my back?” She whispered venomously.

“Whoa whoa calm down i didn’t mean it like that!” Their conversation was interrupted almost immediately before Susan realised she was speaking loudly enough for the class to hear. They were all looking at her. “Miss Parker, will you please stop disrupting the lesson? Miss Higginson alongside the rest of the students would like to get on with their degree.”

“Sir, I just-”

“No, Miss Parker. I have had just about enough of 'sir - I - justs’ ever since you came here. See me at the end of the lesson and we will discuss your commitment to this class.”

Amy stared open mouthed at the teacher, rising up from her chair slowly. Half in utter fury, half in disbelief. Susan’s stomach churned. Although she has always applauded Amy when she stood up for herself, she was desperate to just run out of the room and throw up, just wanting anything other than to watch this pan out. But somehow she remained glued to her chair, sitting on her hands to prevent them from shaking. “No, you do not talk to me like that!” She was now pointing directly at the teacher. Susan was unsure as to whether or not she was going to burst into tears. The teacher’s odd eyes were eerily wider than they had ever been, and the raised eyebrow expression on his face was repulsive. He was repulsive himself, but this angle was just totally unflattering.

“MISS PARKER-”

“Just shut up!” She slammed her fists down on the table twice in sync with the words “shut up”. “You can’t keep making my life so difficult! I get that everyone misconceives the fact I’m in this class only because of Susan but I’ll tell you that I actually TRY hard. I contribute to this fucking class! And I’m sick of being knocked down and made to feel like I’m nothing! Oh, and that’s not all, Mr Blackburn, if you still want me to stay behind after class, you’re fucking welcome because I’ll give you another piece of my mind. University costs are going up, especially at Harvard, I had to fight my ass off to get a place here and study this, only to end up with a teacher who only appreciates certain students, like Susan who is clever. Why can’t you respect me too? YOU GET PAID FOR THIS SHIT!” Amy ended her rant with one scream before rushing out of the classroom.

******

HEADS UP: I was just about to move on to another paragraph as I feel as though this part is quite short but then I thought it would be awesome if I just left this as a cliffhanger, you guys begging to read more. I’m sorry for the wait, I’m already starting to write down ideas for part 3 in case I forget! Thank you for reading!

#short horror story #short horror stories #part two #classroom #law students #law #fanfiction #creepypasta #teacher #serial killer

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