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gammija · 4 years ago

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The final Web!Martin evidence list

Now that canon is done, and we’ve got word of god confirmation that Web!Martin wasn’t complete nonsense, I decided to go back to my lil chronological evidence list and actually clean it up a bit, delete parts that in hindsight weren't all that indicative, and put everything in a slightly more readable format. (Obligatory disclaimer that i don’t and never did believe or advocate for some kind of evil web!martin, and that I'm not intending to connect a moral judgement to martin (or anyone else for that matter) having some of these traits)

So here: The (hopefully, please) final list with Web!Martin Evidence! Presented in order of importance, according to. me

The final (hopefully) Web!Martin evidence list

(In order from most to least obvious)

Spiders

I mean, it’s called the Web. TMA reiterates quite a few times that Martin liked spiders. Sometimes it IS that easy.

MAG022: Martin: "I like spiders. Big ones, at least. Y’know, y’know the ones you can see some fur on; I actually think they’re sort of cute -"

MAG038: | Sasha: "A spider?" Jon: "Yeah. I tried to kill it…" [...] Sasha: [Chuckles] "Well, I won’t tell Martin." Jon: "Oh, god. I don’t think I could stand another lecture on their importance to the ecosystem."

MAG059: Jon: "I have done my best to prevent Martin reading this statement in too much detail. I have no interest in having another argument about spiders."

MAG079: Jon: "Apparently, biologically, his account of the spiders doesn’t make any sense according to Martin."

MAG197: Martin: “What? Because I like spiders? Well, used to.”

Lies and subterfuge

Martin is able to use lying and subterfuge to achieve his goals, and is called manipulative a few times.

Lies:

MAG022: Martin: "[He] became slightly more co-operative after I lied to him and told him that one of the upstairs residents had buzzed me in."

MAG056: Martin: "I lied on my CV."

MAG158: Peter: “But you said –” Martin: “Honestly, I mostly just said what I thought you wanted to hear.”

MAG164: Jon: "You – I actually believed you!"

MAG189: Martin: “Sorry. Sorry, John. Not sure how much everything up there actually understood what was going on. But, y’know, I didn’t want to take any chances so it made sense to… um…” Jon: “Put on a show?” Martin: “Yeah, basically, more or less.”

MAG191: Martin: "That's not true." Arun: "Liar!"

Subterfuge:

The plan in 118, which revolved around convincing Elias that Martin was only “acting out”, to create a distraction for Melanie. (Also compare the way he evades giving a straight answer here with the way Annabelle talks in 196.)

Working with Peter in s4 under false pretenses, to distract him from Jon and eventually try to learn what Peter wanted.

Manipulation accusations:

These, I know, are somewhat contentious, since it’s mostly villains saying this to him. I’m still including them, since

1): From a media analysis standpoint, being mentioned 3 times is a sign to pay attention, even when it may not be the full truth.

2): I only see it as describing Martin’s behaviour in the previous points, not as a moral judgement; Especially since he almost always ‘manipulates’ people in positions of power over him.

Still, if it bothers anyone, feel free to ignore these.

MAG138: Martin: "That’s it? No, no monologue, no mind games? You love manipulating people!" Elias: "That makes two of us."

MAG186: Martin: “I can be a real manipulative prick, you know that?” Also Martin: “Oh yeah.”

MAG196: Annabelle: “Because you always managed to get what you wanted through smiles and shrugs and stammerings that weren’t nearly as awkward as they seemed.” [SMALL SOUND OF MARTIN’S CONCESSION TO THE POINT] Martin: “Point taken.”

The Lonely/the Web

The Lonely and the Web sometimes affect Martin to similar degrees.

In season 3, when Martin is getting used to reading statements for the first time, most of them leave him emotionally affected: MAG084, MAG088, MAG090,

MAG095: Martin: “S-S-Statement… done.” [HEAVY BREATHING & TREMBLING AS MARTIN STEADIES HIMSELF] “I don’t like recording these. There. I-I said it.”,

MAG098: Martin: [Panting] “End of statement.” [Deep breath] “I, um, I think I might need to sit down. Oh. Yeah, I am. Right. I don’t, uh, I’m not really sure if these are actually getting easier or harder. I mean I don’t feel –”

Only the last two statements he reads are remarkably easier. This might be a hint that Martin is just getting used to reading them, but the quote from MAG098 seems to contradict that. Either way, it’s likely not a coincidence that those last two happen to be the Lonely and the Web:

MAG108: Martin: “Statement ends.” (exhale) “That wasn’t so bad…”

MAG110: Martin: “Statement ends.” [...] “I mean, I think it sounds like a Jurgen Leitner book. About spiders. Hm. Good John didn’t have to read this one, anyway. I know he’s not a fan. Although, this one wasn’t too bad, actually! I – yeah. Anyway.”

In season 5, there are two powers’ Domains that actually affected Martin mentally, as opposed to only physically: the Lonely’s, in 170 (and arguably 186), and, depending on your interpretation, in 172, when Martin went exploring without knowing why he did so.

Proximity

Martin investigates a lot of the Web statements during season 1 to 3 (in other words, when the archive team still researches statements). The only ones he isn’t mentioned in during this period are MAG019 and MAG020, when he’s being harrassed by worms, and MAG081, which Jon records by himself outside of the institute.

Most notably, he’s the one who discovered the statement in MAG114, ‘Cracked Foundations’, which is the one statement in the entire show that sets up the interdimensional properties of HTR.

The Web!Lighter passed through Martin's hands first, before he gave it to Jon.

Similarly, Annabelle mostly spoke to Martin in season 5, despite most other Avatars usually focusing on Jon.

Aesthetics

Apart from the above obviously Web related areas, there are some other aesthetics which are mentioned in connection to both the Web and Martin, throughout canon.

These are describing the Web;

These are describing Martin.

Tapes:

Martin is the only character to treat the tape recorders as friends - any other character is either indifferent, or treats them as enemies.

MAG039: Martin: "I think the tapes have a sort of… low-fi charm."

MAG154 Martin: “Oh. Hi. Hello again.” … (small laugh) “Sorry pal, false alarm this time.”

MAG156 Martin: “Mm? Oh.” [HE LAUGHS, GENTLY.] “Yeah. (rustling paper) I was going to read one. Hate for you to miss it!” [SHORT, FORCED LAUGH, AS HE FLAPS THE STATEMENT AROUND.]

MAG170 Martin: “Oh. Oh, hello. What’s this? Wow, retro! What are you up to, little buddy; just – listening? That’s okay. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

MAG190 Jon: "[The tapes] seem to like [Martin]."

Retro:

MAG069: Statement: “I only saw Annabelle Cane once during this period. She wasn’t hard to pick out. She dressed like a vintage clothing store exploded on her, and her short bleach-blonde hair stood out sharply against dark skin.”

MAG160: Jon: “Anyways, don’t tell me the phonebox down there doesn’t appeal to your retro aesthetic.” Martin: “It – might. Maybe.”

MAG163: Annabelle/the Web callying Martin via an old payphone: [ A PHONE RINGS. IT’S NOT THE TINNY, ELECTRONIC SOUND OF A CELLPHONE – NO, THIS IS A TRUE, HEAVY, CLASSIC RING.] Martin: “Uh. John? Uh, J, John – the, uh, payphone that’s – here, for some reason – it’s ringing?”

Hatred of burns:

MAG067: Jack Barnabas’ statement: “I looked up and noticed within the corner of the room, where there had been a spider’s web this morning, there was just a faint wisp of smoke.” “Another held a bag that seemed to be full of candles, while a third had a clear plastic container filled with hundreds of tiny spiders.”

MAG139: Statement by member of Cult of the Lightless Flame: “The Mother of Puppets has always suffered at our hand; all the manipulation and subtle venom in the world means nothing against a pure and unrestrained force of destruction and ruin.” Agnes burned down Hilltop Road.

MAG145: The Web ties Gertrude to Agnes, stopping the Desolation’s ritual (the only Power whose ritual the Web is known to have prevented).

MAG167: Gertrude enlists Agnes’/the Desolation’s help in order to burn her assistant Emma, who was Web aligned.

MAG169: Martin: "Look, I just – don’t want to get burned, all right? It’s, it’s like my least favorite pain ever. [...] I, I legitimately hate burns, alright? They’re, they’re awful, and they scar horribly, and they just – it – it just makes me sick; I, I hate it. Hate it!"

Phrasing:

MAG039: Martin: "I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck. [...] It's just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too. We all are, I think."

MAG079: Martin's poem: "The threads of people walking, living, lovi–"

MAG117: Martin: "This last couple of years, I’ve always been running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but, but now it’s my trap, and, well, I think it’ll work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but it felt good leaving my own little web. Oh, oh, Christ, I hope John doesn’t actually listen to these. “Good lord, is Martin becoming some sort of spider person?” No, John, it’s an expression, chill out! Besides, spiders are fine. I mean, yes, people are scared of them, obviously, but actual spiders, they just want to help you out with flies."

MAG167: Jon: “Methinks the Spider dost protest too much.” Martin: “Jon –” Jon: “Joking! Just joking.”

Personality:

How applicable these are depends heavily on how you interpret Martin's own personality, so your mileage may vary.

MAG008: Statement: “Nobody ever said a word against Raymond himself, though, who was by all accounts a kind and gentle soul [...]”

MAG123: Jon: "The Web does seem to have a preference for those who prefer not to assert themselves."

MAG147: Annabelles statement: "I discovered a deep and enduring talent inside myself for lying. [...] My manipulations were not intricate, but they were far beyond what was expected of a child my age, and I have always believed that the key to manipulating people is to ensure that they always under- or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans."

Word of God and Annabelle

I kinda wanted to ‘prove’ that Web!Martin had quite a bit of evidence to back it up, hence this header being last. But of course, in this post-canon world, there are a few lines that most obviously confirm the theory:

MAG197: Martin is Web enough to be able to read the 'vibrations', like Annabelle, and see Jon and Basira (the latter being especially notable, as he hadn't known she was there beforehand): [CHITTERING, BUZZING AND HIGH-PITCHED SQUEALS CHANGE CADENCE] Martin: "Wait… Wait, hang on, is that him?" Annabelle: "Yes. I guess you’re better with the Web than we thought." Martin: "And – Wait, ha– No, uh… is that… Basira? He – He’s got Basira with him!" Annabelle: "Yes."

Season 5 Q&A part 2: Jonny: “Essentially, it was fascinating looking at the fandom and, like, the Web!Martin believers, because what they were doing was correctly picking up on hints dropped in the early seasons that were later, like, not exactly abandoned, but it was much more like, ‘Well, no, he does have like aspects of The Web to him, but he is moreover The Lonely.’ And that came about very… very organically, really. Because throughout Season 3 and going into Season 4, we had this conversation and we were like, ‘No, actually he's like-” Alex: “‘It can't be, it cannot be, it must be the other way round’ Yeah.”

(Note that they say “throughout season 3 and going into season 4,” which likely means that season 1, season 2, and at least part of season 3, aka half of the entire show, were written with Web!Martin as an intentional possibility.)

If you read all that, thanks so much! Obviously, Web!Martin never really came to fruition, so it's fine if you still don't like it. This is just a post explaining where it was coming from, at least for me and the other theorists I've spoken to.

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #tma #tma s5 #web!martin #web martin #webmartin #or as jonny called it:#spider!martin #tma theory #tma meta #martin blackwood #martin k blackwood #martin #tma martin #magnuspod #i feel like i say this every time too but #when i say martin lies a lot i dont mean that #in comparison to 'normal people'#i mean that in canon he gets specifically mentioned to lie; at a higher rate than the other protagonists #ditto for everything else. im not speaking about real life people who might have these traits. im doing a media analysis #my own real life bedroom curtains being blue dont mean im depressed but in media sometimes aesthetic themes can be deeper signifiers #and tma especially has some very strong aesthetic themes #ok i think im done talking now. webmartin theories always get me rambling #EDIT: oops i changed a part on mobile and now the formatting is a bit fucked #ill fix it back tomorrow #if anyone cares #EDIT EDIT: ok fixed it

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

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Stony, 18+, Steve just likes to fuck Tony is his fancy cars

Ta-da!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

If asked, Tony would say that there are many benefits to dating a billionaire.

He learned that from the people he’s dated: Tiberius, who was in it for the fame; Sunset for the money; Rumiko for the… well, Tony wasn’t actually sure what Rumiko got out of the deal but she must have gotten it because two days before their first anniversary, he’d found her with Tiberius of all people.

But then there was Steve. Steve, who was too good for him, who Tony had met at the opening of his first exhibit and fallen in love with after a single evening, who held him like he was something precious and not something that a thousand other people had used. Steve, who had been asked about the benefits of dating a billionaire and, after he’d punched the reporter, coolly informed her that the billionaire was the benefit.

Which.

Well.

No one said things like that.

But Steve did. And he believed it. He really truly felt that the best thing to come out of their relationship was Tony himself. Tony loved him for that. Well. He loved him for lots of reasons—his innate goodness and his big heart only two of them—but the fact that Steve loved Tony for Tony was pretty high up there.

It was a little difficult sometimes when Tony was used to throwing money at his partners to make up for his mistakes, used to paying for everything, used to wielding his power to get them what they wanted, and Steve would just turn all of that away instead of accepting the extravagant gifts and favors, but they made it work. Steve made him want to make it work, and Tony would do just about anything to keep them this way. He knew that Steve was the same way about him: willing to do whatever it takes to make Tony happy, to make them work.

Anyway—Steve’s opinion was that dating Tony was the best part about dating a billionaire, but if Tony had to pick one other thing that Steve enjoyed, it was the cars.

Steve’s preferred mode of transportation was the motorcycle his mom had gotten for him, of course, but he adored Tony’s garage of cars, particularly the ones that went fast. Tony had never met a speed demon like Steve before, and he loved taking him out to Highway 1 in the middle of the night, when no one else was on the road, and watching the look on Steve’s face as Steve pressed down on the accelerator and kept his foot there as they whipped around curves at twice the recommended speed.

It was the hottest thing Tony had ever seen, second to none. He never had a single problem with Steve screeching to a stop at one of the scenic outlooks, tossing Tony into the backseat, and fucking him until he screamed—because if there was one thing Steve loved more than the cars, it was Tony with the cars.

“Look how gorgeous you are,” Steve murmured, running a reverent hand down Tony’s heaving side.

Tony whined, hands twisting in the silk tie keeping him pinned to the door handle. He’d known when Steve had insisted on taking the Aston Martin out that the night was going to end like this. Steve only wanted the four-seaters when he wanted to fuck Tony in them. But this—tying Tony to the door handle while he fucked him just slow enough to keep him on the edge instead of tipping over—that was new. He hadn’t even taken Tony’s panties off, not that he’d needed to—they were designed for easy access and to look pretty and that was about it—but it was the principle of the thing.

“Steve,” Tony whined. “Move.”

Steve just chuckled darkly, bending down to bite a mark into Tony’s throat. Tony keened, arching his neck to give Steve greater access. “It’s cute that you think you can make me do what you want,” he said. And then he pulled out, that ass.

“No,” Tony gasped, hands straining in their bonds to reach for Steve, pull him back in so he has to fuck him. But he couldn’t. Steve was too good at knots for that, damned boy scout.

Steve knelt up as best as he could with the low ceiling, hand stroking his cock lazily. “Could get off right now,” he threatened. “Could spill all over that pretty red lace and leave you like that, all hard and aching for it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Tony replied, despite knowing that Steve absolutely would. Most of the time, Steve was the most generous lover in the world, seeing to Tony’s needs before his own, making sure that they both came at least twice, holding him as close as Tony wanted afterward. But then there were times like tonight, when Steve could be mean. Tony loved both sides of Steve equally, he really did, but he loved getting to come too.

Steve’s eyes gleamed dark and hard in the scant moonlight filtering in through the tinted windows. “Are you challenging me, sweetheart?” he asked, voice silky smooth. Tony shivered and then mewled when Steve palmed his cock through the lace. It scratched against his cock, catching on the sensitive skin and making him arch up into the touch.

“’s too much,” he cried. “Steve, baby, please.”

Steve’s hand was off of him in an instant, back to stroking himself as he stared down at Tony. “You sound so good, Tony,” he groaned, adding a twist at the end of each stroke. “Look so good too, all pretty as a picture spread out on those expensive seats, not even caring if you ruin them. Bet I could make you spill across all that fancy leather, tell you to clean it up with your tongue, and you’d do it too, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Tony whined, the leg not pinned against the back of the seat coming up to hook around Steve’s leg in a futile attempt to tug him back down. He would do it, he knew. He’d do anything that Steve asked of him, even if he knew that this in particular was an empty threat. Steve wouldn’t make him lick anything if he didn’t know what else had touched it. But the thought, the picture Steve’s words painted of licking his own come off three-thousand dollar seats, had him arching again.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, Steve, fuck me, come inside me, please.”

“Is that what you want? Want me filling you up?” Steve shoved two fingers inside his empty hole, rubbing firmly against his prostate. Tony hissed, pushing back into them. His cock was leaking, so ready to spill if Steve would just—Steve pulled his fingers back out and Tony nearly sobbed.

“Your cock, baby. Want your cock.”

Steve’s face softened almost imperceptibly. He leaned down to brush a sweet kiss across Tony’s open, panting mouth. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said and pushed back in, drawing a long moan from Tony as Steve filled him all over again.

Steve set a punishing pace, hips slapping lewdly against Tony’s ass. The windows had long since fogged up, Tony noticed as he threw his head back, and he admired the droplets rolling down the glass for a moment before a hard thrust brought him back into the moment.

“Feel so good around me,” Steve grunted, licking a stripe up the side of Tony’s neck. Tony deliberately tightened around him, making him moan loudly. “Could be in you all day, coming inside you over and over again ‘til you’re as full as you want. You could take me, couldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Tony whined loudly, hands clenching on the tie. He would die, but if that was what Steve wanted, he would do it.

“That’s right,” Steve crooned, nuzzling his throat. “You’d take whatever I gave you, Tony. Feel so—ah!—sweetheart!”

His hips jerked against Tony twice more before he came with a shout. Tony could feel him coming inside his loose hole and he twisted, desperate to come as well. But Steve stilled him with a hand on his hip, petting him soothingly as Tony backed away from that edge again. He pulled out slowly, letting Tony feel every inch of his softening cock.

Tony could feel Steve’s come dripping out of him, sliding down to stain the leather seats and the back of his panties. He clenched, trying to hold it all inside him, but it was hard when Steve was still holding his legs apart so he could thumb at the rim of his hole. Steve made an approving noise and then leaned over him again to kiss him, lips sliding softly against Tony’s.

“You look so used, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. “All puffy and red, my come sliding out of you cause you’re just too tired to hold it in.”

Tony whispered back, “Empty.”

“I know. I’ve got something to help.” Steve reached over into the front seat, rummaging around for a moment before he made a triumphant sound and came back with something hidden in his hand. Tony got the barest glimpse of red and gold and he groaned, thinking about the plug Steve had to be holding. It was the perfect size to tease his prostate and it vibrated. He couldn’t imagine wearing it all the way back to the mansion, but he let Steve slide it in him anyway, not even bothering to put up a token protest.

“You still okay?” Steve asked, smoothing Tony’s sweaty hair away from his face. Tony turned his head just enough to kiss Steve’s palm and then nodded. “You want me to turn it on while we drive so you can come or do you want to wait until we’re back to the house so I can fuck you again?”

“Wait.” Tony knew he sounded exhausted—who wouldn’t when they had someone as incredible as Steve wearing them out? Steve smiled and kissed him again.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Steve picked him up and slid him into the passenger seat, chuckling as Tony cried out when the plug jostled against his sensitive prostate. He pulled his own pants back up and got out, retrieving a blanket from the trunk to throw over Tony’s naked body before sliding into the driver’s seat. “You still sure about that?”

Tony weighed the benefits of coming now or waiting until Steve fucked him and nodded decisively. “Just don’t hit every pothole on the way home.”

Steve shot him a wicked grin and revved the engine. The vibrations shot straight up through the plug, thrumming through Tony’s body. Tony arched up out of his seat, sobbing at the feeling.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve murmured, pulling out of the overlook and back onto the highway. “I don’t need to hit every pothole.” He pressed the accelerator down to the floor and sped away.

#stevetony #nsfk #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please consider reblogging #Anonymous

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detectivereyes · 3 years ago

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Even If You Stumble A Step, You’re Still Moving Forward

Summary: TK and Carlos move into their new home post-finale and TK doesn't exactly make the best first impression on their new neighbors...

Notes: this was like a fever dream i had a few months ago and then i stopped writing but decided to revive it last night so... here we are. also title creds (and emotional support creds) to jillian @marjansmarwani because this fic wouldn’t exist without her. and also s/o to brit @moviegeek03 for being extra supportive of yet another fic where [spoiler] tk falls down the stairs again :/

read on ao3

TK shuffles through the maze of boxes stacked several feet high throughout their new home. The scene shouldn’t surprise him considering it was only a few months ago he was moving his own boxes into their old home. However it feels different knowing that most of this stuff isn’t actually theirs.

Well, it is theirs now he figures. But the fact remains that most of the stuff filling the space was either given to them by various members of the extended 126 family, or was recently purchased by TK or Carlos on one of their many trips to Bed Bath and Beyond.

They had taken their time searching for a new place to live. Owen had made it clear that they were both welcome to stay with him (and Mateo) for as long as they needed, but TK had known it was time.

So when a townhome popped up on Zillow that met all their criteria, they wasted no time booking an appointment with the realtor. They both had instantly fallen in love with the open floor plan and deck out back. Plus they knew the extra bedrooms upstairs may come in handy someday.

While they knew the vertical layout of the home itself wasn’t the best, having more stairs than either of them were used to, it checked every other box and was right in their price range so they had wasted no time signing the lease.

A few days had passed since settlement and now most of their days were spent trying to unpack and make this new house into a home. It would never replace the one they had lost, but it had been exciting to build this new home together.

Though on this particular day, TK found himself alone in trying to get settled in since Carlos had a shift. With the 126 still out of commission, possibly forever, and the department not having any openings for paramedics, most of the unpacking was left for TK.

After getting a good chunk of the living room done, he checks the time and decides to go out and see if the mail has come yet. Not that he’s expecting anything with their address still being so new, and not getting much physical mail anyway to begin with. But it still provided a good excuse to take a break.

TK opens the front door and starts to make his way down the set of stairs leading down.

He makes it about halfway before his attention is caught by one of his new next door neighbors, Mr. Martin- if he remembers correctly, exiting at the same time. Mr. Martin gives a friendly wave and TK goes to return the gesture.

Except, he’s not paying attention when he takes the next step, and he misses, his heel just barely hitting the edge of the step before he starts to go down. He tumbles until he comes to a hard stop at the bottom, with most of his weight coming down on his right knee, sending shooting pains up and down his leg.

The rest of his body is sore, and by the time his ears stop ringing, he can just barely make out a new female voice asking “Sir, are you okay?”

He opens his eyes, which he had not even realized he had squeezed shut at some point, to see his neighbor, Mrs. Bailey- his brain supplies, from across the street making her way over to check on him, worried lines painting across her forehead.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine,” he grimaces while pushing himself up to a seated position. He tries to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Not the best way to make a good first impression on his neighbors.

“Are you sure, son? We can call for help if you need it. Someone you know, or 9-1-1?” Mr. Martin joins in the conversation.

“No!” TK interjects too quickly, startling both neighbors. He panics for a moment when the weight of the predicament settles in. He meets the gaze of both figures still staring at him, clearly concerned and waiting for him to say something. “I mean, I’m a paramedic. I’m fine. Or I will be fine. Thank you,” he flashes them both a quick smile before pushing himself up off the ground, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from his knee when he tries to put any weight on it.

Getting back up the stairs is no easy feat, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that both Mr. Martin and Mrs. Bailey are still watching him, concerned. Fortunately, they don’t know him well enough to try and follow or help. He’s not sure he would feel comfortable enough receiving help from some strangers. Half the time he doesn’t even feel comfortable receiving help from the people he does know.

He leans heavily on the railing, refusing to turn around out of fear of further mortification. Once he’s inside the home, he collapses right inside the hall, unable to go any further since his knee decided to stop cooperating.

A few tears pool in his eyes, and he’s unsure if that’s due to the pain or embarrassment. Not knowing what else to do, he takes out his phone and shoots a quick text to Carlos.

TK: we have to move

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the three dots to pop up before being replaced by Carlos’ response.

Carlos: ???

TK sighs and rubs his face, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation.

TK: i feel down the stairs out front and all the neighbors saw

Carlos: Holy shit, are you okay??

He lets out a puff of air at that.

TK: you mean besides my bruised ego?

TK: no, i hurt my knee but i’m fine. that’s not the issue here.

Carlos: Okay, I’ll be home in an hour and you can let me be the judge of that. If I see any swelling, we’re going to the doctor.”

He rolls his eyes at Carlos’ worry. At worst, it’s a bad sprain, nothing that can’t be fixed with some icing and wrapping. But there are other things they need to worry about.

TK: you’re missing the point, carlos. the entire neighborhood thinks i’m an idiot. we can’t live here anymore.

TK knows he’s being dramatic, but the more he thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. The idea that these are people he’s going to have to continue to face everyday for the foreseeable future. And that now all they’ll be able to think about when they do see him. Now he’ll just be known as the guy who can’t walk down stairs.

Carlos: Relax, TK. I’ll be home soon.

TK: you mean our temporary place of residence which we will soon be moving out of

He doesn’t get a response after that.

His mind continues to spiral while he waits for Carlos to arrive. He knows the other man is likely climbing the walls trying to leave his shift early but it would still be awhile before he could be allowed to leave.

Left alone with his thoughts, his mind keeps playing out the series of events that happened minutes ago. He can't help but beat himself up over embarrassing himself like that. Ironically enough, it’s not even the first time he’s fallen down stairs, having taken a tumble down the stairs in Carlos’ place a few months back. And of course he would manage to injure himself that time, and this time as well.

He should at least try to get up so he can find an ice pack to lessen the swelling. Sitting on the floor up against the wall can’t be doing his knee any favors. Yet he can’t bring himself to move, instead resting his head back against the wall and sighing.

TK pulls out his phone again, cycling through the apps until he hears the tell-tale keys jingling in the already unlocked door.

As soon as Carlos steps through the door, he nearly trips over TK in the doorway. “Woah, hey! TK, are you okay?” he crouches down to TK’s level.

TK shrugs. Now that he’s face to face with Carlos, he can’t help but feel suffocated by another person judging him, even if Carlos’ worry comes from a place of concern.

“Can I take a look at your knee?”

TK nods, allowing Carlos to gently inspect his swollen joint. He winces as Carlos traces his hand around his kneecap.

“This doesn’t look good, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“No, it’s fine,” he quickly shakes his head. The worried look in Carlos’ eyes only makes his heart ache, and he can only try to find ways to make it go away. “Just help me up and we can ice it. It will look better once the swelling goes down a bit.”

Carlos gives him a look that screams I don’t believe you but sighs. “Fine, but if it doesn’t…”

“I know, I know. You’ll drag my ass to the emergency room,” TK gives him a reassuring smile.

Carlos returns the smile, and extends a hand to help TK up. TK accepts, and allows Carlos to take on most of his weight once he’s standing. They slowly make their way over to the living room, with Carlos softly depositing TK onto the sofa. He then disappears into the kitchen before returning with an ice pack in hand.

“Thanks,” TK smiles, trying to mask the wince as Carlos places the pack onto his knee.

“Do you want to watch an episode of The Office?” Carlos asks, picking up the remote and settling in the spot next to TK.

TK shrugs, knowing that Carlos is just trying to appeal to him by offering to put on his favorite show. The other man doesn’t even like the show that much, often finding the humor dry and tasteless, but TK thinks he just doesn’t get it.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

There it is.

“I just can’t believe I did that in front of our new neighbors. They probably think I’m an idiot.”

“I’m sure no one thinks you’re an idiot, TK,” Carlos gently reassures him.

“Yeah all the neighbors saw me make an idiot of myself,” TK sighs exasperatedly. “God, how am I supposed to face these people everyday now?”

“Hate to break it to you babe, but this is not a valid reason for us to move.”

“I know,” he sighs again.

“Besides,” Carlos continues. “If your track record has proven anything, it’s that this won’t be the last medical emergency at our new home. It’s good that the neighbors are getting used to it now.”

TK gives him a pointed look.

“I’m pretty sure this is the second time you’ve fallen down the stairs since we’ve started dating,” Carlos says with a light chuckle.

“Whatever,” TK scoffs. “At least the other time it wasn’t in front of total strangers.”

Carlos softens. “That’s true. But I’m sure the neighbors just care about you. I don’t think this is that big of a deal, TK.”

“You weren’t there though. It was mortifying.”

“What did they say, exactly?”

TK nervously looks down. “They asked if I was okay. And if I needed any help.”

Carlos raises his eyebrow, waiting to see if TK continues.

“They offered to call for help but I said no and went back inside.”

“See? They just care about you TK. I haven’t really talked to anyone yet but they seem like nice people.”

“I guess,” TK shrugs.

“I know, you’re still embarrassed. But if nothing else, they’ll probably forget about it by the next time we see them.”

“You don’t think I’ll be known as the ‘clumsy neighbor who can’t walk down stairs’?”

“Maybe the ‘cute clumsy neighbor that can’t walk down stairs,’” Carlos says with a smirk. “But we could always change that.”

TK cocks his head to the side.

“You think our new neighbors might enjoy some peach scones when we go over and have a proper introduction?”

“You really plan to charm our new neighbors with your baking?”

“You think it will work?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, I do,” Carlos grins proudly. He then leans over and gently removes the ice pack from TK’s knee, grimacing at what he sees. “This still looks pretty swollen, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

TK gives him a pained smile. “You sure I can’t talk my way out of this?”

“Nope,” Carlos says, popping the p. He stands up before extending his hand to help TK do the same.

TK accepts, shifting his weight and leaning into Carlos once he’s fully upright.

“You know, I think you may have a paramedic blindspot when it comes to your own health.”

TK lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

A week later, Carlos softly knocks on the door of Mrs. Bailey’s home across the street with one hand and a plate of peach scones in the other. TK had offered to hold the scones but when they went over to Mr. Martin's home earlier in the day, it was quickly discovered it was too difficult for him to manage getting up the stairs and holding the plate.

So he settles for letting Carlos do most of the work while he awkwardly limps up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing to keep some pressure off his knee.

After their quick trip to the emergency room, it had been determined that TK’s initial assessment was right and it was just a bad sprain. He was given a brace to help reduce the pain and a pair of crutches, which (much to Carlos’ dismay) he abandoned after only two days, citing that they only made it harder to get around their home which he can now say for certain has too many damn stairs.

A problem which seems to follow him as he also has to get up the stairs to greet his neighbors.

“Maybe we should have moved to a neighborhood of single level homes,” he states with a wince as he joins Carlos at the front door.

Carlos snorts. “We can take it into consideration if we ever have to move again.”

“God, please don’t say that. I don’t want to think about moving ever again.”

“Good,” Carlos gives him a soft smile. “Because I’m planning on staying here for the long run.”

“Me too,” TK returns the smile just as Mrs. Bailey opens the door.

“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims taking in the sight of the two men.

“Hello ma’am,” Carlos says with a polite smile.

“We brought you some scones,” TK adds, gesturing to the plate in Carlos’ hands.

“Oh how thoughtful of you. Please come in. How are you doing?” she asks, turning to TK. “I’ve been worried.”

He exchanges a look with Carlos, the other man's face clearly saying I told you she cares, before turning back to Mrs. Bailey.

“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking. It’s just a bad sprain. But I do appreciate your concern, especially the other week.”

“Oh, of course dear,” she says with a warm smile. “Now, you boys aren’t going to make me eat these scones all by myself are you?”

They both let out a light chuckle and exchange another glance before following their new neighbor, and friend inside.

#i've posted too much today #but i need share before i end up deleting it #but actually if it flops i may just delete anyway #whatever at this point #911 lone star #911lonestarfic #tarlosfic #my fic #usersaaya #userbones #reyeslonestartag #pragmaticoptimist34 #tuserpaige

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fuckyeahisawthat · 3 years ago

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Rewatched Trust episodes 1 and 3 recently and I still think they’re in the wrong order, so much so that it’s hard for me to imagine understanding everything in episode 1 without having watched episode 3 first. And believe me I am aware of the irony of me, a writer who never met a story she couldn’t tell out of chronological order, wanting some things at the beginning of the series to be told in chronological order but listen. There are reasons you give the audience information in a certain order and it should be based on what’s most dramatically effective.

I still maintain that the opening of episode 3 makes a much better series intro than the opening of episode 1. It introduces the world of the show, the time period, the tone and the general vibe very well, while being focused on the show’s actual protagonists, Little Paul and Primo, instead of on George Getty, a character we never see again. If George Getty killing himself was what started the story in motion, the whole sequence at his house would make more sense. But it’s not. Little Paul needing $6,000 is what starts the story in motion, and that plot is already ticking away by the time Little Paul arrives at George’s funeral. And starting by introducing Little Paul and Primo makes thematic and structural sense, because the main way Trust distinguishes itself from the way a kidnapping story is often told is that we spend lots of time with both the victim and the kidnappers, and they have at least as much weight in the story as the family members searching for Paul.

But my biggest complaint is that I think Paul’s part of the story in episode 1 is really done a disservice if you don’t understand what the stakes are for him--that this isn’t just some poor little rich kid angling for money; that the consequences are real and potentially dangerous this time around, not just for him but for people he cares about; that he has made other attempts to get the money and this is his last chance; and that his father’s and grandfather’s petty succession games are going to set in motion a disastrous chain of events for him. If we’re following Old Paul and his rich people succession problems through episode 1...frankly I don’t care. If we’re following Little Paul who really needs that money, and we understand why he needs it, then suddenly the episode is interesting again.

If we just watch episode 1 with no context, we don’t really get a sense of how much trouble Little Paul is in until the very end, when he lets Jahangir see a moment of desperation. When he talks to Martine and Jutta on the phone, we’ve never met them before; we don’t know anything about them or about Berto, whose men are watching the house. We don’t know that Little Paul is lying through his teeth when he tells Old Paul he doesn’t do drugs. We don’t really even know exactly what he needs the money for until the very end of the episode.

It’s the good ole difference between mystery (we see a character doing things and they know why they’re doing them, but we don’t) and suspense (we know as much or more than the character we’re following). They’re both useful dramatic tools, but in general, mystery tends to distance us from characters and suspense tends to pull us closer. And Trust’s entire thing is suspense, because we the audience are the only people who get to see all the pieces of the puzzle, from all the different worlds involved.

And the thing about suspense is it can make otherwise very boring action suddenly riveting. If you see someone put a bomb under the table, and then you see a family sit down and start eating dinner at that table, you will watch the most mundane action happen and be on the edge of your seat, because you know about the bomb and you’re waiting to see if it will go off.

So if we know going into episode 1 what’s at stake for Little Paul, then all the rich people bullshit--Old Paul’s general grossness and his cruelty that he thinks of as character-building moments; Paul Jr.’s selfishness and childish desire to screw over his own son for taking something he thought should be his--it all works because we see all those things as obstacles keeping Little Paul from his goal, and when he’s genuinely scared at the end of the episode we’re scared for him, and with him, because we know what’s at stake.

#trust fx #trust meta? in september 2021? it's more likely than you think #trust alternate watch order #story structure #little paul #mystery #suspense #i have half a mind to just recut the first 3 episodes the way *i* think they should be ordered #i'd probably split episode 3 in half at the sunflower scene and make an episode 3 sandwich #with everything else in the middle #this is how i'm gonna learn the editing software isn't it

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years ago

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The Witch and The Wolf Pt.49

Word Count: 2, 932

Characters: Derek Hale (brief), Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Kira Yukimura, Malia Tate, Araya, OC Characters, Kate Argent (mentioned), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, TW: slight mentions of losing weight, small fluff, cliffhanger

A/N: ---

Masterlist Series Masterlist

You walked into the loft once again, throwing all your things onto the couch, before grabbing your first-aid kit and heading to the bathroom. After spending the last few days staking out yet another Calavera hideout in the states, it was clear to you that Derek wasn’t at any of them. You only had a few more Calavera bases left to check out to find Derek.

You poured rubbing alcohol over your wound, while you dug your nails into your palm before letting out a soft exhale. It had been almost one month since Derek went missing.

You hadn't seen Scott or Stiles, or any member of the pack within the last month, not wanting to worry them. You could do this on your own. They would end up figuring it out sooner or later. You told Sheriff Stilinski, who put out an APB on Derek to try and help find him.

You bit your lip gently, trying to hold in your inner feelings and emotions. It was no surprise that you were a wreck since Derek went missing, and you were gonna do everything you could to find him.

---

“No means no, Stiles,” you grabbed your duffel bag, loading it up once again.

“We’re trying to help you-” he started.

“I don’t need help, Stiles. All I need is for you to leave me the hell alone,” you sounded rude than you meant to come off, but you didn't care enough. You were exhausted.

Derek had been gone for two months now, and you've been doing everything you can to try and find him.

“Just, stop, (Y/N)! Stop denying our help! You need us!” he yelled.

“Stiles, I swear to god, you are the most annoying person I know. Is it that hard for you to comprehend what I mean when I say I don't need you?!” you yelled at him, taking him by surprise.

“I’m trying to help you. Do you really think none of us realize how much you've changed?” Stiles’ voice softened as you leaned on the table.

“Stiles…”

“We know for a fact that you’re not getting any sleep. You’re so tired, you look sick, like y-you’re dying. You’re not… when was the last time you ate something, (Y/N)? When was the last time you took care of yourself? Had something in your body that wasn't coffee? I am begging you, as a friend, as one of your closest friends, let us help you and please, take care of yourself,” you could feel your tears welling up in your eyes before you wiped them away.

“I need to find him, I-I…”

“I know, you love him. But you can't do that if you’re dead.”

You let out a shaky exhale before rubbing your face, nodding softly.

“What do you want to do?” you asked softly.

“Just take us with you. We have a break in three days. You finished checking all the Calavera hideouts and places in America, so we need to go to Mexico,” he asked.

You nodded softly. He wrapped his arms around you for a moment, while you shut your eyes tightly, taking deep breaths.

“Thank you, Stiles,” you whispered.

He gave you a small smile, before leaving the loft.

---

“Oh, this is by far one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, Stiles,” you walked alongside him, as the two of you made your way to the closed door, with guards standing in front of them.

“It’s not that bad,” he replied.

“I agree with (Y/N). It’s dumb and we’re going to die,” Lydia said.

“Well, I’d like to save all ‘death talk’ to all banshee predictions,” Stiles replied.

“I still can't believe I let you guys come with me,” you muttered, before standing in front of the guards.

They scanned the three of you before blocking the doors.

“Estamos aquí para la fiesta?” you asked. (We’re here for the party)

The guards shook their heads once more, remaining silent.

Stiles held up a car, with a skull symbol on it. They both nodded their heads, moving aside to let the three of you in.

---

After entering, the three of you stuck together. You noticed Severo pulling out a walkie-talkie, most likely alerting Araya of your presence.

You took a deep step, walking forward into the crowd of dancing teens, before making your way to the bar. One step closer to finding Derek.

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders as you clenched your jaw.

“How about a drink, (Y/N)?” you heard Severo’s voice as you let out a small breath.

“Consider it a thank you gift for dumping me in the woods instead of killing me,” the bartender put a shot of vodka in front of you.

“I didn't come here to drink. Now, where’s Araya?” you took out a bullet from your purse, with the Calavera logo on it, before dropping it into the shot cup.

“Come with me,” you three followed him to a back room, sitting down on a table, a few seconds before Araya entered.

“(Y/N), it’s good to see you again,” Araya walked in front of the three of you.

“We want Derek back,” you said.

You put 50 thousand dollars onto the table, stacking them up.

“For Derek,” you crossed your arms, sitting back in the chair.

“It wasn’t smart for you three to come alone,” Araya smirked.

“Wait a minute,” Stiles interrupted.

“Who said we came alone?”

---

“I don’t think you’re aware of the poor timing! You’re familiar with the dark moon, aren't you, (Y/N)?” she walked around you three slowly, keeping you uncomfortable and on edge.

“The part of the lunar phase where the moon is least visible on the sky,” you answered.

“But do you know what it means?” she asked.

“Some people say it's a time of reflection, or grief,” Lydia replied.

“Grief and loss, Mija. I wonder why, after suffering so much pain and loss, why do you risk it again for someone like Derek Hale?” she asked.

“Maybe we’re done with losing,” you rested your head on your hand, leaning your elbow on the armrest.

You heard Severo’s walkie-talkie going off, saying all the exits and entrances were clear, except for one.

“North? Are you clear?” Severo asked again.

“(Y/N), you guys can take 10 off the table,” Stiles pulled 10,000 off the table, before crossing his arms.

“I’m not playing games, Araya. Give him to us, now,” you could see Stiles staring at you uncomfortably, while your eyes glew purple.

“You can’t do anything to hurt us, Mija. I believe you’re familiar with a special herb, Hawthorn,” you dug your nails into your palm, feeling a sharp pain in your arm.

You saw a needle sticking out of it, while you quickly pulled it out.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled.

She aimed a gun at your leg, before shooting while you yelled out.

“(Y/N)!” Lydia yelled.

“Run! Both of you!” you fell to the ground, trying to push yourself up as you whimpered softly.

---

You slammed your fist against the door, yelling out in anger.

You could feel the rest of the pack giving you a look of concern, while you sat on the floor, with a ripped part of your shirt tied against your leg. You refused to let anyone heal you.

“Maybe we should…” Stiles started.

“Shut up, Stiles,” you spat.

“I was just trying to…” he started.

“Patentibus,” your eyes glew purple as you punched the door as hard as you could, only hurting yourself as it remained shut.

“As soon as we get out of here, you guys are going straight back to Beacon Hills,” you said.

“We’re not leaving you-”

“You kinda don’t have a choice,” you turned to face them.

“We should make a run for it,” Malia suggested.

“Well, we can’t leave Lydia,” Stiles said.

“Yeah, we can. We can leave (Y/N) too,” you looked slightly offended, raising an eyebrow.

“If you were still a coyote, is that what you’d do?” Kira asked her.

“(Y/N)'s injured. So yes, I would leave her. Lydia's probably gone by now too,” Malia replied.

Yeah, I can see the resemblance to Peter now

You heard the door open, as Severo pointed a gun at you.

“Come with us. You and the alpha,” he said, grabbing your arm before pulling you up harshly.

Scott obeyed, while he followed you out.

---

The restraints pulled at your wrists while you sat on the chair, your back to Scott’s.

“What are they gonna do to us?” Scott asked you.

“I don’t know yet. Just give me a minute to figure out how to get out of this,” you sighed, leaning your head back slightly.

“Can’t you use your magic?” Scott whispered.

“Don’t you think I already thought of that?”

“Well… can't you?”

“No, Scott, I can't. The bullet she shot at me was covered with Hawthorn ash, not enough to kill me but definitely enough to the point I can’t use magic. Can’t you use your alpha powers?” you asked.

“These handcuffs are metal,” he replied.

“This isn't how I like to be tied up,” you muttered softly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you heard the door open, while Araya’s men pooled into the room, while Severo had his hand on Kira’s arm.

Lydia was bought in, sitting at the chair next to you and Scott.

“What the hell are you doing, Araya?” you raised your voice, in panic as you frowned.

“Just a small test, Mija. We’re asking you a few questions. You answer you’re safe, you don't, you get electrocuted,” she shrugged.

“I thought I could put it past you to hurt children, clearly not!” you yelled.

“Turn the dial up to one, Kira,” Araya turned to her.

“W-What? No,” Kira panicked, taking a step back before Severo held her hand against the dial.

“If you don’t, then we’ll electrocute Lydia,” Severo spat.

You knew Lydia wouldn't recover as fast as you and Scott.

“Don’t hurt Lydia,” you shook your head, looking at Kira.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she looked at Scott.

“I-It’s okay. Just do us,” Scott nodded his head softly.

You felt the electric current coursing through your skin as you clenched your teeth together, trying to save Araya from the satisfaction of hurting you. You could hear Scott yelling out in pain.

This was gonna be fun.

---

“Tell me! Who actually has Derek?! Who has a reason?! A vendetta against the Hales?!” Araya yelled.

“We don’t know!” you yelled out.

“You haven't figured it out yet! Who! Think, (Y/N), Scott! You know!” she yelled.

“Tres,” Kira turned up the dial, while you yelled out, feeling your sight go dizzy.

“Who turned?! A shapeshifter! Someone who could have turned without you knowing! By a scratch! Not a bite!” she yelled.

She put her hand on the dial, about to raise it again as you shut your eyes tightly.

The only people who were scratched were you and Kate. Jackson was a werewolf now, he didn't matter.

You let out a small gasp of realization. But it couldn't be Kate. She was dead, and had been for a while. Unless she healed.

She was scratched, (Y/N)

“Who is it?!” she yelled, turning the dial all the way up.

“Kate!” you yelled out, before you fell unconscious, leaning against Scott.

“(Y/N)!”

---

“Oh my god,” Scott helped you up, as you groaned, opening your eyes.

“Holy crap. A-Are you okay?” you asked him.

“I’m fine, I’m basically healed. You?” he asked.

“I feel like shit. But it doesn't matter, we know who has Derek now,” you limped, while Scott has his arm on your shoulder, walking out with you.

“She’s just letting us go?” you asked skeptically.

“Yes, I am,” she walked to the two of you.

“I sent four men to where Kate was rumored to be. None of them returned,” Araya explained.

“I have to… what’s your game? First, you torture us for some she-wolf, and then for Kate Argent. Now you’re just letting us go. Why?” you asked.

“Peter is the only one who knows who and where La Loba is, Mija. I want Kate dead as much as you do, and I knew you wouldn't believe me,” she explained.

You scoffed slightly, before grunting.

“I have a guide who will lead you and your friends to the place where Kate is,” Araya said.

The two of you walked away from her, heading to Stiles and the rest of the pack.

“Oh, look, we have matching scars,” you smirked slightly.

“Not funny,” Scott scoffed, hiding his smile.

Stiles wrapped his arms around you two.

“Did you wish you came alone now?” Stiles teased.

“Shut up, Stilinski,” you rolled your eyes.

“I see being tortured put you in a better mood,” Stiles said.

“Let’s just get Derek, okay?”

“Do you even know what you're gonna say to him?” Scott asked.

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“Your big ‘I love you and I can’t breathe without you’ confession,” Stiles asked.

“I’ll punch you in the throat, right now,” you started.

“He’s joking. We’re closer to finding Derek and that's what matters,” your smile faded slightly, while worry took its place.

Kate was alive, and she had Derek. What was she doing to him?

You heard a motorcycle engine rev, before seeing a woman in leather taking off her helmet. Your jaw dropped in amazement, recognizing her.

“Nice to see you again, Braeden,” you said, walking over to her.

“(Y/N), you’re riding with me. We’re going to La Iglesia,” after the first time Araya captured you, Derek, and Peter, you were sure to always keep in touch with Braeden, keeping her especially close the past two months.

“Did you also know that Kate had Derek? And where they were?” she threw you a helmet as you walked to her.

“I got a job from Araya yesterday to take you. If I knew anything I would've told you,” she replied.

You nodded your head, getting on her motorcycle.

“Let’s go then.”

---

“Look at the sun, we don't have time for this,” Braeden pointed out.

Stiles’ jeep had decided to break down in the desert, on your way to La Iglesia. The sun was going down, and it was never safe to be out in the desert at night.

You paced around slightly, becoming more and more worried as you bit your nails.

“What are we supposed to do?” Scott asked.

“M-Maybe we should just split up,” you said.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

“Me and Braeden can go to La Iglesia and get Derek. The rest of you can stay here and try to fix the jeep,” you said.

“Are you crazy? No,” Stiles shook his head.

“Stiles, we are way too close t-to just give up,” you hadn't noticed your eyes water slightly.

“We’re not giving up,” Scott agreed.

“(Y/N), you’ve basically been suicidal these past few months! W-What if Kate does something to you? What if you don't come back?” Stiles’ voice lowered slightly.

“We’ll be fine, Stiles. I’m not stopping now,” you shook your head.

“Look, how about me, (Y/N), and Braeden go? Stiles, just stay here and fix the jeep, okay?” Scott said.

After a moment of argument between Stiles and Scott, then Scott and Kira, the three of you made your way to Braeden’s motorcycle.

“This is probably going to be one of the most uncomfortable rides of your life. Ready?” she asked.

The two of you nodded your head, holding onto each other.

---

After entering the church, you held a flashlight in your hands, trying to look around carefully as you made your step further in. You stayed alert, on the lookout for Kate or anyone else that would be there.

You felt a weird sense rush over you, as you frowned slightly.

“What is it?” Braeden asked.

“I don’t know. I-I… It feels like Derek, but it's not,” you said.

You heard footsteps behind you three, as you tensed.

“Run.”

You ran farther down into the church, following Braeden and Scott while you heard something growl behind you.

Braeden pushed you and Scott behind her, holding her shotgun as she fired at the creature. You could hear it growling, only getting madder.

“Ruina,” your eyes flashed purple, as the walls around you three collapsed onto the floor, blocking you off from the creature.

You turned around, seeing some sort of crypt with a logo on it.

“The Nagual jaguar god. I think we found Derek,” Braeden looked up at you.

You let out a shaky breath, before running your fingers through your hair. Tears began forming in your eyes as you placed your hand onto the crypt. You felt dead, scared of what you would see, whether or not Derek was there, whether or not he was okay.

“Intermissum,” you pushed on the crypt, while it broke open.

“Oh my god,” your eyes widened.

“That's not Derek,” Scott frowned.

“N-No… that's him,” you were in shock still, seeing Derek’s unconscious form laying inside.

Except he was 15 again.

“Derek?” you called out his name, getting no response.

You pulled him out of the crypt, while you and Braeden kept him standing up. His feet dragged in the ground, while you continued to look at him, shocked.

“He’s 15,” you said to Scott.

“What? How?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head.

“But I have a feeling we’ll be seeing Kate Argent again sooner than we want to.”

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birdhaslostit · 4 years ago

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🎁🎄❄️What the Lupin Gang would do for Christmas!❄️🎄🎁

Helloooooooo Lupin fans! You may or may not remember me as that one chick who made that Halloween headcanon post a few months back, as well as the Jigen’s bangs post. I’m back with a Christmas post!!!

Please note: Personally, I really only celebrate Christmas in a non-Jesus-y way. (Which is how I’m also writing this post, because let’s be honest, do you really think Lupin is going to confession and shit? Absolutely not.) It’s purely out of habit because I was raised Catholic, but I practice witchcraft now. My family doesn’t know that though. Because of this, I considered also making posts for other winter holidays, so I could include Lupin fans that don’t celebrate Christmas. But I didn’t want to accidentally mess it up, or write something inaccurate about a holiday that I don’t celebrate. It felt disingenuous to make a Hanukkah post because I’m not Jewish and it doesn’t seem like my place, and I didn’t want to do a Yule one either, because no two people celebrate it the same way. So, I strongly encourage others to add their respective winter festivities to this post if they want to! We’re all about inclusivity here.

Without further ado:

🎁LUPIN:

I don’t feel like it needs saying, but this man goes bonkers for Christmas.

He flip-flops his choice of red or green jacket by the year. But it always comes with an equally garish Christmas-themed tie, just to make explicitly clear that this is The Christmas Jacket for the year, as opposed to the standard red/green jacket.

The hideout(s) are always decorated to the GILLS inside. It’s an odd mix of older classy decorations he’s inherited from his family, and absolutely horrendously tacky ones he’s bought himself.

Picture real branch garlands, wrapped tastefully around gilded candelabras that have been passed down through several generations. And then one of those singing, dancing stuffed animals from Walmart that plays “Jingle Bell Rock” when you squeeze its paw, right next to it.

Christmas-themed heists? You know it, baby. But he won’t steal anything on Christmas Eve or Christmas. It just isn’t in the spirit of the season, in his opinion. But he’ll leave a little something-something with his calling cards during the rest of December. A candy cane, a sprig of mistletoe, a bough of holly, etc.

Lupin despises eggnog. He loves any other Christmas drink, just not eggnog. He’s too grossed out by the idea of drinking eggs with alcohol- some things just shouldn’t be mixed.

Will not allow anyone to mention the truth about Santa Claus in his presence. Yeah, he knows, but that’s not the point. It just feels like bad luck to say it out loud. The harder Jigen tries to debate with him that Santa isn’t real, the harder he digs in his heels that “of course he is you absolute Scrooge, how dare you! If you don’t believe, you don’t receive.”

Favorite Christmas Songs: Anything peppy!

Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney

Step Into Christmas by Elton John

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

We Need a Little Christmas by Percy Faith and his Orchestra

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Claus’ Party by Les Baxter

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Literally anything except eggnog.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything obscenely sugary. Especially gingerbread men and other decorated pastries.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Loves to ice skate and make gingerbread houses! But his houses usually look fairly pathetic, no matter how hard he tries.

Favorite Christmas Movie(s):

The Grinch (Jim Carrey version)

Home Alone

Scrooged

Christmas Gifts: The king of gag gifts, but he also gives surprisingly thoughtful presents too. He’s the kind of guy that would get a person something they mentioned once offhandedly that they really liked, and he’d go back and get it for them.

🎅JIGEN:

Lupin always wants to decorate the hideout(s) the second Halloween ends, but it never happens. With Jigen being the only American in the gang, he always puts a stop to it in order to preserve the quickly-disappearing border between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

What can I say, dude loves his Thanksgiving excuse to eat like shit and do nothing for a day. Even if it is a fucked-up holiday, historically speaking.

But once the Thanksgiving meal is over, he gives Lupin the okay to go crazy. He’s pretty stoked about Christmas too, but too full of turkey to contribute, so he just watches Lupin hang up Christmas lights everywhere while he lays on the couch and digests.

Jigen likes Christmas a lot, but like, in a normal person kind of way. Nowhere near Lupin’s insane level. He’s surprisingly open about his enthusiasm too. The average person would think he doesn’t really care about Christmas much (or anything else really), but to the gang, Christmastime is the most openly excited they’ve ever seen him.

One year’s Christmas-themed heist involved Jigen dressing up as a mall Santa as a part of the plan. The gang powdered his beard, gave him a pillow for his stomach, and sent him on his way. Everything went surprisingly smoothly, and he actually did pretty well with the kids. At first they were a little intimidated, and Jigen was kind of nervous- but he gave them all candy canes and they changed their minds pretty quickly.

Jigen enjoyed it a lot, actually... to the point that he may have potentially started volunteering to be the local mall Santa. Every year during December, he leaves for a day or two on “business.” Nobody in the gang can prove it though, and trust me, they’ve tried.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The classics and the chill ones, with a few rock ones thrown in for a little kick.

Mele Kalikimaka by Bing Crosby

Sleigh Bells by Gene Autry

(There’s No Place Like) Home For The Holidays by Perry Como

Jingle Bells by Frank Sinatra

Caroling, Caroling by Nat King Cole

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow by Dean Martin

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday by Bing Crosby

Run Rudolph Run by Chuck Berry

Merry Christmas Baby by Bruce Springsteen (Sang this once after too much eggnog and will never live it down)

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by the Barenaked Ladies (He’s not into all the Jesus-y stuff, but it’s pretty catchy.)

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Jigen is ALL. ABOUT. THAT. NOG. He’ll make his cup a little stronger than everyone else’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: He really likes candy canes, especially the mini ones. He’ll keep a few in his pocket with his cigs, and switch between them depending on his mood. Out of habit, it’ll usually dangle out of his mouth like a cigarette would.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Watching Christmas movies and laughing at Lupin’s shitty gingerbread houses.

Favorite Christmas Movies:

Anything that’s on at the moment, really. He likes to lounge by the TV, and he’s not picky.

He has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas though.

A Christmas Story, solely because of the BB gun.

Scrooged, because Bill Murray’s hilarious.

Christmas Gifts: Something practical and useful that the person never realized they needed until they opened the box.

☃️GOEMON:

Goemon wasn’t originally a huge fan of Christmas. Shocking, I know.

He now enjoys some aspects of it, and tolerates others. He likes the idea of giving heartfelt gifts and spending time with loved ones as a tradition, but dislikes the cheesy commercial aspect of Christmas.

He already enjoys the snow and walking through the forest, so the gang usually commissions him to pick a tree for them and cut it down with Zantetsuken. (If they’re somewhere where that’s an option.)

Unbeknownst to the rest of the gang, he will always replant the tree he cut down, and he will wrap something cozy around the bottom of the sapling to keep it safe. Yes, this was directly inspired by A Charlie Brown Christmas. No, he will not admit to this.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The instrumentals, and a few he’d rather die than admit to liking.

The Nutcracker March from The Nutcracker

Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker

Christmas Time Is Here (Instrumental) by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Greensleeves by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Last Christmas by Wham! (He likes the storyline and the romantic aspect of it.)

Do They Know It’s Christmas? by Band Aid (He likes that it was for a good cause, even if it has its flaws.)

Happy Xmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon and Yoko Ono (Again, flawed, but he enjoys the intended message of peace. Also, represents Japan on the side with Yoko Ono.)

White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Surprisingly fond of hot cocoa. Heavy on the whipped cream and marshmallows.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Doesn’t really like eating gingerbread men, but enjoys decorating them. They’re always pristine, like something you’d get in a bakery.

Favorite Christmas Activities: See above. Also enjoys going out in the snow, and making ice sculptures with Zantetsuken.

Favorite Christmas Movies: Refuses to admit he likes any of these.

Any of the classic Rankin Bass claymation specials.

Any other animated ones for kids. Has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas and The Polar Express.

A few of those cheesy Hallmark ones.

Christmas Gifts: Something small and sentimental he saw while walking by a store that reminded him of the person he’s giving it to. Nothing extravagant, but thoughtful nonetheless.

⛸FUJIKO:

Fujiko decorates the tree. Period. Lupin cannot be trusted to do this on his own. Goemon picks the tree, Lupin and Jigen put it in the stand, and from there, it’s all Fujiko. The ornaments, lights, and tree skirt are all perfectly color/theme coordinated, and arranged like a pristine store display.

She also has a few ornaments that she bought for each specific member of the gang. Lupin’s is a monkey (he was not pleased, but he’s whipped for her, so he let her keep it). Jigen’s is a carved wooden pistol. Goemon’s is porcelain, with hand-painted sakura blossoms on it. She bought one for Zenigata too as a joke one year- a tiny bowl of ramen noodles.

Her ornament? The star on top of the tree, because she’s the star of the show, baby. It’s actually a snowflake, made of the finest crystal she could steal.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Pop music and Motown’s finest.

Underneath The Tree by Kelly Clarkson

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande

This Christmas by Donny Hathaway

What Christmas Means To Me by Stevie Wonder

Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Darlene Love

A Marshmallow World by Darlene Love

I Like A Sleighride (Jingle Bells) by Peggy Lee

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot chocolate and mulled wine.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Loves baking and eating gingerbread men. She lets Goemon decorate them with her. Hers have lots of candy and sprinkles on them, while his are just icing.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Along with baking, ice skating! She’s the best at it out of the whole group. None of the guys are particularly good at it, but she makes them go with her at least once regardless.

Favorite Christmas Movies:

Hallmark ones, solely to make fun of them.

Babes In Toyland, but only the 1986 one, because it has Keanu Reeves in it, and “I don’t care if I’m your girlfriend, Lupin. In this house, we support Keanu Reeves.”

Christmas Gifts: Something expensive/extravagant that will make the person think of her every time they use it.

🎄ZENIGATA:

Zenigata is the second biggest Christmas enthusiast, just behind Lupin.

He doesn’t get to settle down and decorate anything really, since he’s always running after the gang, but he does lots of other little things to celebrate instead. Like getting hot chocolate instead of coffee, tuning the squad car radio to the Christmas station, getting an air freshener that smells like gingerbread, and wearing a festive scarf and gloves with his trench coat to keep out the cold.

In years past, Zenigata still had to work on Christmas Eve/Christmas, even if Lupin wasn’t out stealing anything. Lupin found out and thought that was a little harsh of ICPO, so he came up with a plan.

Each year he sends a calling card to the station with the conditions that only Zenigata can come to investigate. Zenigata does some research, shows up to the location on Christmas Eve, and every year, nothing’s there except for a neatly wrapped present from Lupin.

Zenigata keeps the present as “evidence,” goes back to the station, and they give him Christmas off to go investigate on his own, in case Lupin tries anything else. Lupin never does, but the station doesn’t know that. Bada bing, bada boom, Lupin just got Zenigata a vacation.

Zenigata never catches on, bless his heart.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Ones he can sing/hum along to in the squad car.

The Man With All The Toys by The Beach Boys

Celebrate Me Home by Kenny Loggins

Feliz Navidad by José Feliciano (Does Zenigata understand Spanish? Absolutely not. Does he get the point and think it’s festive? Darn right.)

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer by Dean Martin

Winter Wonderland by the Eurythmics

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday/The Holiday Season by Andy Williams

Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town by Gene Autry

December by Earth, Wind, and Fire (Let him have this okay, it’s a good song and he gets made fun of for liking it by the rest of ICPO)

Skating by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot cocoa and eggnog, but not strong eggnog like Jigen’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything, really. It’s something besides cup noodles, so he’s grateful. Lupin’s gift always includes lots of various Christmas goodies because of this.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Zenigata enjoys the snow in theory, but doesn’t handle the cold well. So he likes to watch the snow from his window while he listens to Christmas music in his squad car and sips his hot cocoa.

Favorite Christmas Movies: He doesn’t really have a lot of time to sit down a watch a movie, with how hard he works. But he remembers a few from when he was younger, and he really likes those. His favorite is Frosty the Snowman.

Christmas Gifts: Something inexpensive because ICPO vastly underpays this poor man, and he’s always embarrassed because of that, but it’s always something super sweet and heartfelt.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! And for those who don’t celebrate it, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! <3

#lupin #lupin iii #lupin the 3rd #lupin the third #rupan sansei #daisuke jigen #jigen daisuke #fujiko mine #fujiko #mine Fujiko #koichi zenigata #zenigata #goemon #goemon ishikawa xiii #ishikawa goemon xiii #Christmas #Xmas #obligatory Christmas post right after thanksgiving

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inklingofadream · 4 years ago

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Heads up, I have several questions/suggestions for the Eye's Anti-Martin spiels that won't fit in one ask box (if you don't mind), and I have a bad hand so it'll be slow-going. The first is: do you think the Eye could/would communicate the technicality that Martin stabbed Jon, landing him in his coma? Asking, cause I figure the chances are that it can't actually play the tape, because Jon literally begs him to do it and Martin's sobbing. So the Eye's like, "It's just too terrible to show! Sob!"

Second, Martin was the one behind s4's intervention, which directly interfered with Jon's food supply, so would the Eye possibly make it look like Martin was intentionally starving him? This would also be a big deal since it directly interferes with Jon's relationship with the Eye and kept Jon from his full Archive potential. Plus, it might communicate to the Eyevatars that Jon truly does/did want to be closer to the Eye.

Last, would the Eye make the others around Jon s2-4 look just as bad? Cause It probably wouldn’t even have to edit some interactions! And most of them (Georgie? Who's that? Eye've never heard of her!) were even supposed to be servants of the Eye/Jon’s subordinates (shameful!) Clearly, the Eye is the only one who has Jon’s back, anyone who questions this is as bad as his former friends, and Jon’s interactions must be monitored!

Aaaah, I can't believe I forgot to mention the stabbing!!! That's like. One of the big things! Like

Eye: Y'know how Jon was stabbed

Eyevatars: yes

Eye: guess who did it

Eyevatars: o_o

Eye: it was MARTIN!

Eyevatars: 0o0 nooooo we been knew!!!

The rest of the gang don't get as much play time as Martin, because they are neither romantic rivals nor in the same reality as Jon currently, but clips like Every time Daisy makes Jon bleed (his sad lil voice when she has a knife to his throat... lyk if u cri evry tiem, we must band together to protect this precious boy. Talking Basira thru shooting her WHILE Daisy's gnawing on his leg... so brave, so strong) (and what was martin doing? NOTHING, just LETTING our beloved archivist get nommed on!) When Jon's awake and this gets brought up his first reaction is very *John Mulaney voice* we know, but hey!

The intervention scene gets some creative editing so that all the times when Daisy and Melanie try to butt in and remind Basira that Daisy did kill people, etc., are gone, and it just sounds like everyone uncritically accepts that Daisy, whose many crimes you have just listened to, is like, yeah, I'm innocent here, Jon saved my life at great risk to his own but that's no reason to bother defending him. Melanie and I are going to yell at him to shut up, now listen to all the sad, shaky Archivist breaths. The bit about his rogue statements not being recorded bc he doesn't bother starting the tapes himself anymore comes up with the Eye like "I was trying to protect him from Them 🥺" Especially with the bits there and other times with Basira saying that if Jon can't get a handle on it she'll Kill Our Precious Archivist (even as Jon tries to explain that it's not that simple, he does need statements to like. live. and the paper ones are a bit like putting him on a bread and water diet. and he's doing his best)

S4 in general is GREAT for if you want to woobify Jon to your shiny new cult, especially if you cut out all the little bits of people defending him or being nice, and your audience accepts taking statements as an unquestioned good. If you cut out all the lil bits of chilling with Daisy and having ppl laugh at his jokes and everyone else's perspectives, it's really just like. Continuous Jon abuse. Jon gives EVERYTHING to these people, saving them from all kinds of other entities, trying to cut off fingers for them, successfully losing ribs, swimming in misery and all they ever do is yell at him. Look how terrible they are, you should all lovebomb Jon as soon as he's conscious

Georgie gets hit HARD with the villain stick too, because former romantic interest for Jon AND having some legitimate criticisms of her behavior (there's some v good meta about how she kind of sucks at the "cutting Jon out of her life" thing, ducking into his office to look for Melanie and not leaving when he tries to end the conversation, saying she wouldn't take him to therapy instead of staying neutral, bad-mouthing him to Martin. Poking around for confirmation that she made the right decision/trying to justify her decision, and in the process driving the knife a lil deeper for Jon). And she has terrible taste, dumping Jon and dating that awful Melanie who STABBED him (rip to Jon, do not love his stats on "percentage of acquaintances who have stabbed me")

Honestly, depending on how much independent access Jon has to the tapes, he might start to question his own memory. Like, if he knows that the intervention was caught on tape, but the version everyone else heard didn't have Daisy trying to reel Basira in, did that really happen? I don't think it'd be enough to truly shake his feelings for Martin, but he'd definitely start to question whether the prevailing opinion of "Jon wouldn't know a healthy relationship dynamic if it bit him on the nose" is more correct that he thought.

#tma #the magnus archives #asks #writing #jon/beholding somewhere else #ink post #jonathan sims #tma beholding #gaslighting #the real actual definition kind even!#ink writing #also 'eye've never heard of her' made me lol #its just like. so easy to manipulate the evidence to look like jons just been like continually belittled for the past year plus #(elias? hurting the archivist? idk he's an eyevatar and you all would NEVER deliberately hurt jon #draw ur own conclusions!)#they sent the only other eyevatar to prison and no one could protect him 😔

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tintentrinkerin · 4 years ago

Text

Harness & Spears

Chapter 5: Father’s Eyes

missed a chapter? Check out my Masterlist or AO3

Researching for a case a year after they quit first feels weird to Sam, he has to get used to all the programs, his usual agenda. Today it’s so much easier with some computer skills. No more libraries, no more grainy scans of articles in local papers. Today, you just have to open a search engine app on your phone or a computer and you will be able to find dozens of cases in an hour or two. Of course, there’s still the work of sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Jack is a big help. They sit in the library together and go search for cases. Cas is really sweet to them, just like a butler he offers hot beverages and sandwiches, even though Sam must really hold him back to go full on “Yes, sir”. They want a case, and there are hundreds of them, but also, after Jack became God he brought all the hunters back that Chuck had banished. Donna and Jody, a couple now, as they announced just months after Jack’s ascend, and her girls, all in the hunter business. They heard from Eileen sporadically, but after all that happened and how uneasy Sam felt about the whole manipulation (and he was absolutely certain Chuck pulled the strings there, even though, when they originally met, Sam was drawn to her - but nothing more), she kept her distance and operated in Ireland and also all over Europe. The hunters from the other universe also just hunted in small groups. Charlie and her girlfriend retired for good. And Sam was still bitter about his own behaviour - projecting ‘his’ Charlie on this woman, who was so much different. He knew she hacked some computers every now and then to prank some potential Dicks. Sam was connected to the hunters, most of them. He has been clear about him and Dean, Cas (and later Jack) not going hunting anymore. But now things changed and Sam needed to check if any other hunters were on the cases him and Jack might find interesting. Running in another couple of hunting buddies is not a problem on a personal level, but the mutual sabotage will happen. It’s Murphy’s Law. That’s why Sam has a plan. They will take cases other hunters wouldn’t like to do. There are several reasons for hunting in the first place and reasons which cases to pursue and which not. Let noble monster hunting and cleansing the world be some hunter’s motivation, revenge, the thrill (some people really were that sick and hunted monsters for the kicks) and of course. The money. Oh yes, the money. But the Winchester conglomerate doesn’t worry about money, that’s why Sam won’t look for cases that have to do with wealthy people or towns announcing rewards. Also, when he knew the kind of monster and that a lot of hunters were after these creatures for killing their kin or loved ones, he better didn’t interfere. You could hunt monsters for their venom or psychic abilities, their blessings or whatever. Something a friend of Dean did not so long ago and got himself killed for it.

It shouldn’t be anything exotic, the New Age brought new monsters, at least that’s what Jack says.

“I was God, yes, and I knew everything that Chuck knew, but believe it or not, not even Chuck knew all of his creatures. His mind is packed with the stuff he wanted to do or not to do - if you ask me he was a little like George R. R. Martin. Got lost in his own massive universe and all the detail. I tried to give all of it structure, that’s why some things on Earth changed, but after some time I thought my head would explode and I uh, outsourced some good stuff in new universes. Amara is way better in doing all of that, she created way more universes and new forms of life as I did. She and her brother - don’t get me started.”

Jack looks exhausted. “Does it sound weird, Sam? That I wanted to be down here with you, all of you, but especially you, and give Amara all that power?”

Sam smiles about Jack’s outbreak and that he obviously read Game of Thrones. “No, it’s not weird. You were with Amara and I bet she’s very pleasant company but she wasn’t what you longed for. You didn’t want to be God who’s in every drop of rain, and all that. It was noble and pure hearted and generous of you to try, but you were allowed to fail. But, speaking of Game of Thrones, I have a few questions regarding--”

Sam is rudely interrupted in his chatter with Jack when Dean comes into the library and sits down two chairs away from Jack. Jack immediately gets up.

“Uh, Sam, I will -errm, go pack my bags. I think you will find a good case.”

Sam sighs.

“I’ll be with you soon, baby. Just gimme a minute.”

Jack is quick as a flash and out of sight within seconds.

Dean scoffs while thudding his mug on the table. Coffee pours out and stains the wood.

“Easy on the furniture Dean, it’s not your enemy”, Sam says without looking up. He can’t show Dean his face right now or he will just erupt. He feels the heat in his cheeks and a hot tickle up his neck. Since Dean threw a mug after Sam yesterday they haven’t seen each other and to be frank, Sam could totally renounce any other encounter with Dean for a while. Plus, Sam has a hickey, because Jack went a little passionate, clingy and possessive last night, for whatever reason.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you and… baby. ” The last word is like venom. As always. Dean wants to start another fight.

“I remember that I heard you calling Cas ‘daddy’ multiple times. You think that was really soothing for my wild imagination?”

“You call Jack what he is. A baby.”

“Another word, Dean, and you know I’ll knock you out. I have enough of your bullshit. You act like a jealous housewife. No, wait, more like a cuck!”

Dean scoffs and leaves.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t do it when I’m around or I’ll tear him apart.”

Sam sits here in shock. He has heard a lot from Dean about Jack, he has always been nasty to him and yes, even threatened to kill him twice, even was willing to execute him as part of Chuck’s evil plan. Yes, he was bitter about Mary and hell, how bitter Dean has been as Jack brought so many people back. All the ‘others’: Bobby and Charlie with her girlfriend. All these people. He brought Eileen back, and Dean thought it was to make Sam happy (and yes, that has been Jack’s intention, but ultimately it didn’t) and he was resistant to the arguments, that Mary was happy with John, she didn’t want to go back in this world she never felt like she fit in. He couldn’t be comforted by the messages Jack as a medium brought to Dean, that Mary loved him no matter what and that she will be happy when they meet again. Nothing could’ve soothed Dean’s aching. Sam understands that he’s hurt, but now, it just feels like Dean is angry at Jack for simply existing and then being so bold to love Sam.

Jack brought Cas back for Dean. He had risked a feud with the Empty that could only be avoided by Amara and Jack forcefully put the Regent of the Empty asleep. The Empty wasn’t sealed though, Rowena still reigned in hell, and still demons went to the Empty. But there are no angels on Earth anymore, Jack has naphil powers and even Cas regained some faint strength back, but Jack didn’t make new angels.

Jack really built a world in which it was possible for Dean and Cas to be together, he risked being invaded and maybe killed, since no one knows how really powerful the Empty was.

Why is nothing Jack does, no matter how universe shattering, unbelievably cosmic and holy and insane it is, not finally letting Dean the old grudge go?

It seems like everything he does just makes it worse.

Sam hides his face and in the safety of his own palms he allows to cry in fear for his own spiteful brother and soulmate. This will end badly if they don’t find a way to reconcile.

“You have to stop that, Dean” Cas says when Dean is back in the Deancave.

Cas is in his robe, nothing beneath. He looks pale and a little skinny. The last weeks have been hard on him and Dean knows it’s his fault. He makes his angel boyfriend sick. And yet he’s sick himself, and he’s kicking and fighting, with talons and teeth, words and throwing things after his brother. Also, he erupts the second Cas dares to mention it.

“Stop with what?”, he asks.

He picks the remote and wants to turn on the TV, loud metal music blasting but with a snap of a finger, the TV silent and it won’t turn back on.

“Castiel. Don’t fuck with me, I swear, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re ‘not in the mood’ for weeks, maybe months. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you let me help?”

Dean’s eyes narrow dangerously as he faces the seraph.

“Help? How could you help? My brother fucks a toddler.”

Cas sighs and it sounds so endlessly sad. Defeated. Dean doesn’t want to see it, acknowledge it, that he is indeed very wrong. Jack is no toddler, Jack is no brat, Jack is so mighty he could really smite the whole bunker with a hiccup still, even though he’s not God anymore. Dean should be so damn careful. Dean should see how much Jack begs for his forgiveness and his approval.

But Dean can’t. And Dean won’t.

“Dean.”

Dean is so full of sorrow and fear, it hurts to hear his own name so gentle, so loving yet somehow fatherly. Cas loves him and Dean should be happy. He has been happy. The Empty had taken him away and Jack had fought to get him back. So they could be a family.

But this isn’t family to Dean. He’s around the person he loves the most, the person he loves with a burning, blinding insanity. He will never be happy like this.

Cas dares to come closer, around two steps away, offers Dean a hand. Dean can’t even look at him but he takes Cas’s hand and then pulls him in a desperate embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, Cas. I don’t want to fight with you.”

It’s been a while, actually the last time Dean slept with Cas was the night when Jack asked him if Sam gay. This question is carved under his skin and if you look closely, you can see them shine through like thin red scars.

The streak won’t break today either.

“Will he ever stop hating me?”, Jack asks.

He has his suitcase packed, same as a backpack with snacks, water, headphones, his teddy Marvelous Marvin, a powerbank and, something he’s very proud of - his own angel blade. The only angels on earth are Jack and Castiel but the blade kills monsters just as well. He kneads the bundle of the purple blanket in his lap when he looks up to Sam.

Sam’s still tense from before, his eyes red and narrow, Sam must look like he didn’t sleep much or has been on a bender.

“I don’t know… I wish I knew what’s wrong with him.”

With a deep sigh Sam sinks beside Jack on the mattress. The bed creaks and a spring nudges in Sam’s butt cheek. Either they need a new mattress or they move in a room together, but Sam doesn’t dare to talk about these things yet. So far, he’s happy about the privacy. But he’s also constantly longing for Jack - a stalemate.

Jack leans against Sam’s shoulder and shyly feels for Sam’s hand. Sam is too glad to take it, intertwine their fingers and kiss Jack’s knuckles.

“It makes me sick, Sam. I’m afraid all the time he’s around. I’m afraid he might want to…”

“Hurt you?”

Jack nods, his lips a thin line.

“I won’t let him. And most of all, you won’t let him. Right?”

Another silent nod.

“Don’t worry about it now, our bags are packed and I found a case. I told you about the parameters I used to find a case no one else would investigate, and this one here is especially weird, but not weird enough for us to follow, and a bit boring, but not boring enough for us to NOT follow it. We’ve been to haunted houses before, right?”

“Yes, it’s mostly vengeful spirits or poltergeists, right?”

Sam nods. “Yes, exactly. Sometimes triggered by the plans of tearing the house down, the same can happen with big bodies of water, when they are threatened to be dried out, spirits of people who drowned will start going on a rampage. Haunted houses are like level 1 of every hunter. Rocksalt, shotgun, holy water, fire. Boom, ghost gone.”

Jack frowns a little. “Really, we’re going on a case that any newbie hunter could solve?”

Sam chuckles.

“Yep.”

It’s absolutely a thinly veiled reason to go on a hunt, but it’s the same that Dean and Cas did weeks ago when Jack sneaked out. In the end they also ‘just’ took on a vampire nest with five vamps and their Creator and the rest of the time they had a blast in Vegas, why should Sam not do the same? He wants to be alone with Jack, because Dean definitely ruined the pleasant experience of the tantra massage. Sam had been so happy back then and oh, crap, he was close to do more to Jack than just the massage. He wouldn’t have slept with him on this massage table, that was utterly uncomfortable, but he had been turned on so bad, that didn’t happen very often.

Sam really falls for Jack deeply and seriously. It’s a wonderful and frightening feeling at the same time.

Jack slides on Sam’s lap and straddles him, arms tight around his neck. Jack squints a little when he’s so close, his big blue eyes will never cease to amaze Sam.

“How can you not be Castiel’s son?”, Sam blurts, his hands cupping the naphil’s face and brushing away some strands of hair.

Jack’s mouth opens slightly, his tongue sneaks out to lick his upper lip.

“I am Castiel’s son.”

“I know, I just mean, genetically. You have his eyes. Does that sound stupid, baby?”

Jack shakes his head with a grin, his neck and face turn tenderly pink.

How did the biggest monster of all create this perfect boy?

“No, not stupid. I like the way you look at me”, Jack silently admits and the blush turns berry red.

“How do I look at you?”

Sam kisses Jack’s parted lips, feels the hitched breath and how Jack tightens up his back.

“First you looked at me with fear, when I was born. Then you looked at me in sympathy, in worry… Then gentle, loving. Just now, longing… You see a man, not a child, right? That’s the look in your face how you look at someone beautiful you want to be with…?”

Sam’s big hands creep under Jack’s pullover and Jack sighs, a light shudder down his spine and this tiny, quiet noise of content.

“You are beautiful, and yes, I want to be with you. All the time”, Sam whispers, he sounds rough, feels like he needs to clear his throat.

Jack lays his hands on Sam’s and guides him down his sweatpants. Sam squeezes. A slight gasp.

“We will have a lot of time for fun stuff once we’re out of here.”

That makes Jack jerk up, jump and drag Sam on his feet.

“Come, Sam! I can’t wait to be out of here.”

#harness&spears #rating: teen #sin is sinning #winkline #samjack

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grigori77 · 4 years ago

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2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 1)

30. BODY CAM – in the face of the ongoing pandemic, viral outbreak cinema has become worryingly prescient of late, but as COVID led to civil unrest in some quarters there were a couple of 2020 films that REALLY seemed to put their finger on the pulse of another particularly shitty zeitgeist. Admittedly this first one highlights a problem that’s been around for a while now, but it came along at just the right time to gain particularly strong resonance, filtering its message into the most reliable form of allegorical social commentary – horror. The vengeful ghost trope has become pretty familiar since the Millennium, but by marrying it with the corrupt cop thriller veteran horror screenwriter Nicholas McCarthy (The Pact) has given it a nice fresh spin, and the end result is a real winner. Mary J. Blige plays troubled LAPD cop Renee Lomito-Smith, back on the beat after an extended hiatus following a particularly harrowing incident, just as fellow officers from her own precinct begin to die violent deaths under mysterious circumstances, and the only clues are weird, haunting camera footage that only Renee and her new partner, rookie Danny Holledge (Paper Towns and Death Note’s Nat Wolff), manage to see before it inexplicable wipes itself. Something supernatural is stalking the City of Angels at night, and it’s got a serious grudge against local cops as the increasingly disturbing investigation slowly brings an act of horrific police brutality to light, until Renee no longer knows who in her department she can trust. This is one of the most insidious scare-fests I enjoyed this past year, sophomore director Malik Vitthal (Imperial Dreams) weaving an effective atmosphere of pregnant dread and wire-taut suspense while delivering some impressively hair-raising shocks (the stunning minimart sequence is the film’s undeniable highlight), while the ghostly threat is cleverly thought-out and skilfully brought to “life”. Blige delivers another top-drawer performance, giving Renee a winning combination of wounded fragility and steely resolve that makes for a particularly compelling hero, while Wolff invests Danny with skittish uncertainty and vulnerability in one of his strongest performances to date, and Dexter star David Zayas brings interesting moral complexity to the role of their put-upon superior, Sergeant Kesper. In these times of heightened social awareness, when the police’s star has become particularly tarnished as unnecessary force, racial profiling and cover-ups have become major hot-button topics, the power and relevance of this particular slice of horror cinema cannot be denied.

29. BLOOD QUANTUM – 2020 certainly was a great year for horror (even if most of the high profile stuff did get shunted into 2021), and this compellingly fresh take on the zombie outbreak genre was a strong standout with a killer hook. Canadian writer-director Jeff Barnaby (Rhymes for Young Ghouls) has always clung close to his Native American roots, and he brings strong social relevance to the intriguing early 80s Canadian setting as a really nasty zombie virus wreaks havoc in the Red Crow Indian Reservation and its neighbouring town. It soon becomes clear, however, that members of the local tribe are immune to the infection, a revelation with far-reaching consequences as the outbreak rages unchecked and society begins to crumble. Barnaby pulls off some impressive world-building and creates a compellingly grungy post-apocalyptic vibe as the story progresses, while the zombies themselves are a visceral, scuzzy bunch, and there’s plenty of cracking set-pieces and suitably full-blooded kills to keep the gore-hounds happy, while the horror has real intelligence behind it, the script posing interesting questions and delivering some uncomfortable answers. The characters, meanwhile, are a well-drawn, complex bunch, no black-and-white saviours among them, any one of them capable of some pretty inhuman horrors when the chips are down, and the cast, an interesting mix of seasoned talent and unknowns, all excel in their roles – Michael Greyeyes (Fear the Walking Dead) and Forrest Goodluck (The Revenant) are the closest things the film has to real heroes, the former a fallible everyman as Traylor, the small-town sheriff who’s just trying to do right by his family, the latter unsure of himself as his son, put-upon teenage father-to-be Joseph; Olivia Scriven, meanwhile is tough but vulnerable as his pregnant white girlfriend Charlie, Stonehorse Lone Goeman is a grizzled badass as tough-as-nails tribal elder Gisigu, and Kiowa Gordon (probably best known for playing a werewolf in the Twilight movies) really goes to the dark side as Joseph’s delinquent half-brother Lysol, while there’s another memorably subtle turn from Dead Man’s Gary Farmer as unpredictable loner Moon. This was definitely one of the year’s darkest films – largely playing the horror straight, it tightens the screws as the situation grows steadily worse, and almost makes a virtue of wallowing in its hopeless tone – but there’s a fatalistic charm to all the bleakness, even in the downbeat yet tentatively hopeful climax, while it’s hard to deny the ruthless efficiency of the violence on display. This definitely isn’t a horror movie for everyone, but those with a strong stomach and relatively hard heart will find much to enjoy here. Jeff Barnaby is definitely gonna be one to watch in the future …

28. THE MIDNIGHT SKY – Netflix’ big release for the festive season is a surprisingly understated and leisurely affair, a science fiction drama of big ideas which nonetheless doesn’t feel the need to shout about it. The latest feature in the decidedly eclectic directorial career of actor George Clooney, this adaptation of Good Morning, Midnight, the debut novel of up-and-coming author Lily Brooks-Dalton, favours characterisation and emotion over big thrills and flashy sequences, but it’s certainly not lacking in spectacle, delivering a pleasingly ergonomically-designed view of the near future of space exploration that shares some DNA with The Martian but makes things far more sleek and user-friendly in the process. Aether, a NASA mission to explore K-23, a newly-discovered, potentially habitable moon of Jupiter, is on its return journey, but is experiencing baffling total communications blackouts from Earth. This is because a catastrophic global event has rendered life on the planet’s surface all but impossible, killing most of the population and driving the few survivors underground. K-23’s discoverer, professor Augustine Lofthouse (Clooney), is now alone at a small research post in the extreme cold of the Arctic, one of the only zones left that have not yet been fully effected by the cataclysm, refusing to leave his post after having discovered he’s dying from a serious illness, but before he goes he’s determined to contact the crew of Aether so he can warn them of the conditions down on Earth. Despite the ticking clock of the plot, Clooney has reigned the pace right in, allowing the story to unspool slowly as we’re introduced to the players who calmly unpack their troubles and work over the various individual crises with calm professionalism – that said, there are a few notable moments of sudden, fretful urgency, and these are executed with a palpable sense of chaotic tension that create interesting and exciting punctuation to the film’s usually stately momentum, reminding us that things could go suddenly, catastrophically wrong for these people at any moment. Clooney delivers a gloriously understated performance that perfectly grounds the film, while there are equally strong, frequently DAMN POWERFUL turns from a uniformly excellent cast, notably Felicity Jones and David Oyelowo as pregnant astronaut Dr. “Sully” Sullivan and her partner, mission Commander Adewole, and a surprisingly subtle, nuanced performance from newcomer Caoilinn Springall as Iris, a young girl mistakenly left behind at the outpost during the hasty evacuation, with whom Lofthouse develops a deeply affecting bond. The film has been criticised for its slowness, but I think in this age of BIGGER, LOUDER, MORE this is a refreshingly low-key escape from all the noise, and there’s a beautiful trade-off in the script’s palpable intelligence, strong character work and world-building (then again, the adaptation was by Mark L. Smith, who co-wrote The Revenant), while this is a visually stunning film, Clooney and cinematographer Martin Ruhe (Control, The Keeping Room) weaving an evocative visual tapestry that rewards the soul as much as the eye. Unapologetically smart, engrossingly played and overflowing with raw, emotional power, this is science fiction cinema at its most cerebral, and another top mark for a somewhat overlooked filmmaking talent which deserves to be considered alongside career highs such as Good Night & Good Luck and The Ides of March.

27. PALM SPRINGS – the summer’s comedy highlight kind of snuck in under the radar, becoming something of an on-demand secret weapon with all the cinemas closed, and it definitely deserves its swiftly growing cult status. You certainly can’t believe it’s the feature debut of director Max Barbakow, who shows the kind of sharp-witted, steady-handed control of his craft that’s usually the province of far more experienced talents … then again, much of the credit must surely go to seasoned TV comedy writer Andy Siara (Lodge 49), for whom this has been a real labour of love he’s been tending since his film student days. Certainly all that care, nurture and attention to detail is up there on the screen, the exceptional script singing its irresistible siren song from the start and providing fertile ground for its promising new director to spread his own creative wings. The premise may be instantly familiar – playing like a latter-day Saturday Night Live take on Groundhog Day (Siara admits it was a major influence), it follows the misadventures of Sarah (How I Met Your Mother’s Cristin Miliota), the black sheep maid of honour at her sweet little sister Tala’s (Riverdale’s Camila Mendes) wedding to seemingly perfect hunk Abe (the Arrowverse’s Superman, Tyler Hoechlin), as she finds herself repeating the same high-stress day over and over again after becoming trapped in a mysterious cosmic time-loop along with slacker misanthrope Nyles (Brooklyn Nine Nine megastar Andy Samberg), who’s been stuck in this same situation for MUCH longer – but in Barbakow and Siara’s hands it feels fresh and intriguing, and goes in some surprising new directions before the well-worn central premise can outstay its welcome. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the cast are all excellent – Miliota is certainly the pounding emotional heart of the film, effortlessly lovable as she flounders against her lot, then learns to accept the unique possibilities it presents, before finally resolving to find a way out, while Samberg has rarely been THIS GOOD, truly endearing in his sardonic apathy as it becomes clear he’s been here for CENTURIES, and they make an enjoyably fiery couple with snipey chemistry to burn; meanwhile there’s top-notch support from Mendes and Hoechlin, The OC’s Peter Gallagher as Sarah and Tala’s straight-laced father, the ever-reliable Dale Dickey, a thoroughly adorable turn from Jena Freidman and, most notably, a full-blooded scene-stealing performance from the mighty J.K. Simmonds as Roy, Nyles’ nemesis, who he inadvertently trapped in the loop before Sarah and is, understandably, none too happy about it. This really is an absolute laugh-riot, today’s more post-modern sense of humour allowing the central pair (and their occasional enemy) to indulge in far more extreme consequence-free craziness than Bill Murray ever got away with back in the day, but like all the best comedies there’s also a strong emotional foundation under the humour, leading us to really care about these people and what happens to them, while the story throws moments of true heartfelt power at us, particularly in the deeply cathartic climax. Ultimately this was one of the year’s biggest surprises, a solid gold gem that I can’t recommend enough.

26. THE LAST DAYS OF AMERICAN CRIME – Body Cam’s fellow heavyweight Zeitgeist fondler is a deeply satirical chunk of speculative dystopian sci-fi clearly intended as a cinematic indictment of Trump’s broken America, but it became far more potent and prescient in these … ahem … troubled times. Adapted by screenwriter Karl Gadjusek (Oblivion, Stranger Things, The King’s Man) from the graphic novel by Rick Remender and Greg Tocchini for underrated schlock-action cinema director Olivier Megaton (Transporter 3, Colombiana, the last two Taken films), this Netflix original feature seemed like a fun way to kill a cinema-deprived Saturday night in the middle of the First Lockdown, but ultimately proved to have a lot more substance than expected. It’s powered by an intriguing premise – in a nearly lawless 2024, the US government is one week away from implementing a nationwide synaptic blocker signal called the API (American Peace Initiative) which will prevent the public from being able to commit any kind of crime – and focuses on a strikingly colourful bunch of outlaw antiheroes with an audacious agenda – prodigious Detroit bank robber Bricke (Édgar Ramiréz) is enlisted by Kevin Cash (Funny Games and Hannibal’s Michael Carmen Pitt), a wayward scion of local crime family the Dumois, and his hacker fiancée Shelby Dupree (Material Girl’s Anna Brewster) to pull off what’s destined to be the last great crime in American history, a daring raid on the first night of the signal to steal over a billion dollars from the Motor City’s “money factory” and then escape across the border into Canada. From this deceptively simple premise a sprawling action epic was born, carried along by a razor sharp, twisty script and Megaton’s typically hyperbolic, showy auteur directing style and significant skill at crafting thrillingly explosive set-pieces, while the cast consistently deliver quality performances. Ever since Domino, Ramiréz has long been one of those actors I really love to watch, a gruff, quietly intense alpha male whose subtle understatement hides deep reserves of emotional intensity, while Dupree takes a character who could have been a thinly-drawn femme fetale and invests her with strong personal drive and steely resolve, and there’s strong support from Neil Blomkampf regulars Sharlto Copley and Brandon Auret as, respectively, emasculated beat cop Sawyer and brutal Mob enforcer Lonnie French, as well as a nearly unrecognisable Patrick Bergin as local kingpin (and Kevin’s father) Rossi Dumois; the film is roundly stolen, however, by Pitt, a phenomenal actor I’ve always thought we just don’t see enough of, here portraying a spectacularly sleazy, unpredictable force of nature who clearly has his own dark agenda, but whom we ultimately can’t help rooting for even as he stabs us in the back. This is a cracking film, a dark and dangerous thriller of rare style and compulsive verve that I happily consider to be Megaton’s best film to date BY FAR – needless to say it was a major hit for Netflix when it dropped, clearly resonating with its audience given what’s STILL going on in the real world, and while it may have been roundly panned in reviews I think, like some of the platform’s other glossier Original hits (Bright springs to mind), it’s destined for a major critical reappraisal and inevitable cult status before too long …

25. BILL & TED FACE THE MUSIC – one of the year’s biggest surprise hits for me was also one I was really nervous about – the original Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and its just-as-good sequel Bogus Journey have been personal favourites for years, pretty much part of my geeky developmental DNA during my youth, two gleefully dorky indulgences that have, against the odds, aged like fine wine for me over the years. I love Bill and Ted SO MUCH, so like many of the fans I’ve always wanted a third film, but I knew full well how easy it would have been for it to turn out to be a turd (second sequels can be tricky things, and we’ve seen SO MANY fail over the years). God bless Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves for never giving up on the possibilities, then, and for the original screenwriters, Chris Matheson and Ed Solomon, for writing something that does true justice and pays proper respect to what came before while fully realising how much times have changed in the TWENTY-NINE YEARS that have passed since Wyld Stallyns last graced our screens. Certainly times have moved on for our irrepressible pair – in spite of their convictions, driven by news from the distant future that their music would unite the world and usher in a new era of peace and prosperity, Bill and Ted have spectacularly failed to achieve what was expected of them, and they’ve grown despondent even though they’re still happily married to the Princesses and now the fathers of two wonderful girls, Billie and Thea (Atypical’s Brigette Lundy-Paine and Ready Or Not’s Samara weaving). Then an emissary from the future arrives to inform them that if they don’t write the song that unites the world TODAY, the whole of reality will cease to exist. No pressure, then … it may have been almost three decades, but our boys are BACK in a riotous comedy adventure that delivers on all the promises the franchise ever made before. Winter and particularly Reeves may have both gone onto other things since, but they step back into their roles with such ease it’s like Bill and Ted have never been away, perfectly realising not only their characters today but also various future incarnations as they resolve to go forward in time to take the song from themselves AFTER they’ve already written it (a most triumphant and fool-proof plan, surely); Lundy-Paine and Weaving, meanwhile, are both absolutely FANTASTIC throughout, creating a pair of wonderfully oddball, eccentric and thoroughly adorable characters who would be PERFECT to carry the franchise forward in the future, while it’s an absolute joy to see William Sadler return as Bogus Journey’s fantastically neurotic incarnation of Death himself, and there are quality supporting turns from Flight of the Conchords’ Kristen Schaal, Anthony Carrigan, Holland Taylor and of course Hal Landon Jr., once again returning as Ted’s grouchy cop father Captain Logan. The plot is thoroughly bonkers and of course makes no logical sense, but then they’re never meant to in these movies – the whole point is just to have fun and GO WITH IT, and it’s unbelievably easy when the comedy hit rate is THIS HIGH – turns out third time really is the charm for Matheson and Solomon, who genuinely managed a hat trick with the whole trilogy, while there was no better choice of director to usher this into existence than Dean Parisot, the man who brought us Galaxy Quest. This is the perfect climax to a trilogy we’ve been waiting YEARS to see finally completed, but it’s also shown a perfect way to forge ahead in new and interesting ways with the next generation – altogether, then, this is another most excellent adventure …

24. TRUE HISTORY OF THE KELLY GANG – Justin Kurzel has been on my directors-to-watch list for a while now, each of his offerings impressing me more than the last (his home-grown Aussie debut, Snowtown, was a low key wallow in Outback nastiness, while his follow up, Macbeth, quickly became one of my favourite Shakespeare flicks, and I seem to be one of the frustrated few who actually genuinely loved his adaptation of Assassin’s Creed, considering it to be one the very best video game movies out there), and his latest is no exception – returning to his native Australia, he’s brought his trademark punky grit and fever-dream edginess to bear in his quest to bring his country’s most famous outlaw to the big screen in a biopic truly worthy of his name. Two actors bring infamous 19th Century bushranger Ned Kelly to life here, and they’re both exceptional – the first half of the film sees newcomer Orlando Schwerdt explode onto the screen as the child Ned, all righteous indignation and fiery stubbornness as he rails against the positions his family’s poverty continually put him in, then George MacKay (Sunshine On Leith, Captain Fantastic) delivers the best performance of his career in the second half, a barely restrained beast as Ned grown, his mercurial turn bringing the man’s inherent unpredictability to the fore. The Babadook’s Essie Davis, meanwhile, frequently steals the film from both of them as Ellen, the fearsome matriarch of the Kelly clan, and Nicholas Hoult is similarly impressive as Constable Fitzpatrick, Ned’s slimily duplicitous friend/nemesis, while there are quality supporting turns from Charlie Hunnam and Russell Crowe as two of the most important men of Ned’s formative years. In Kurzel’s hands, this account of Australia’s greatest true-life crime saga becomes one of the ultimate marmite movies – its glacial pace, grubby intensity and frequent brutality will turn some viewers off, but fans of more “alternative” cinema will find much to enjoy here. There’s a blasted beauty to its imagery (this is BY FAR the bleakest the Outback’s ever looked on film), while the screenplay from relative unknown Shaun Grant (adapting Peter Carey’s bestselling novel) is STRONG, delivering rich character development and sublime dialogue, and Kurzel delivers some brilliantly offbeat and inventive action beats in the latter half that are well worth the wait. Evocative, intense and undeniable, this has just the kind of irreverent punk aesthetic that I’m sure the real life Ned Kelly would have approved of …

23. MUST MERCY – more true-life cinema, this time presenting an altogether classier account of two idealists’ struggle to overturn horrific racial injustices in Alabama. Writer-director Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12, The Glass Castle) brings heart, passion and honest nobility to the story of fresh-faced young lawyer Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) and his personal crusade to free Walter “Johnny D” McMillan (Jamie Foxx), an African-American man wrongfully sentenced to death for the murder of a white woman. His only ally is altruistic young paralegal Eva Ansley (Cretton’s regular screen muse Brie Larson), while the opposition arrayed against them is MAMMOTH – not only do they face the cruelly racist might of the Alabama legal system circa 1989, but a corrupt local police force determined to circumvent his efforts at every turn and a thoroughly disinterested prosecutor, Tommy Chapman (Rafe Spall), who’s far too concerned with his own personal political ambitions to be any help. The cast are uniformly excellent, Jordan and Foxx particularly impressing with career best performances that sear themselves deep into the memory, while there’s a truly harrowing supporting turn from Rob Morgan as Johnny D’s fellow Death Row inmate Herbert, whose own execution date is fast approaching. This is courtroom drama at its most gripping, Cretton keeping the inherent tension cranked up tight while tugging hard on our heartstrings for maximum effect, and the result is a timely, racially-charged throat-lumper of considerable power and emotional heft that guarantees there won’t be a single dry eye in the house by the time the credits roll. Further proof, then, that Destin Daniel Cretton is one of those rare talents of his generation – next up is his tour of duty in the MCU with Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings, and while this seems like a strange leftfield turn given his previous track record, I nevertheless have the utmost confidence in him after seeing this …

22. UNDERWATER – at first glance, this probably seems like a strange choice for the year’s Top 30 – a much-maligned, commercially underperforming glorified B-movie creature-feature headlined by the former star of the Twilight franchise, there’s no way that could POSSIBLY be any good, surely? Well hold your horses, folks, because not only is this very much worth your time and a comprehensive suspension of your low expectations, but I can’t even consider this a guilty pleasure – as far as I’m concerned this is a GENUINELY GREAT FILM, without reservation. The man behind the camera is William Eubank, a director whose career I’ve been following with great interest since his feature debut Love (a decidedly odd but strangely beautiful little space movie) and its more high profile but still unapologetically INDIE follow-up The Signal, and this is the one where he finally delivers wholeheartedly on all that wonderful sci-fi potential. The plot is deceptively simple – an industrial conglomerate has established an instillation drilling right down to the very bottom of the Marianas Trench, the deepest point in our Earth’s oceans, only for an unknown disaster to leave six survivors from the operation’s permanent crew stranded miles below the surface with very few escape options left – but Eubank and writers Brian Duffield (Spontaneous, Love & Monsters, Jane Got a Gun, Insurgent) and Adam Cozad (The Legend of Tarzan) wring all the possible suspense and fraught, claustrophobic terror out of the premise to deliver a piano wire-tense horror thriller that grips from its sudden start to a wonderfully cathartic climax. The small but potent cast are all on top form, Vincent Cassel, Jessica Henwick (Netflix’ Iron Fist) and John Gallagher Jr. (Hush, 10 Cloverfield Lane) particularly impressing, and even the decidedly hit-and-miss T.J. Miller delivers a surprisingly likeable turn here, but it’s that Twilight alumnus who REALLY sticks in your memory here – Kristen Stewart’s been doing a pretty good job lately distancing herself from the role that, unfortunately, both made her name and turned her into an object of (very unfair) derision for many years, but in my opinion THIS is the performance that REALLY separates her from Bella effing-Swan. Mechanical engineer Norah Price is tough, ingenious and fiercely determined, but with the right amount of vulnerability that we really root for her, and Stewart acts her little heart out in a turn sure to win over her strongest detractors. The creature effects are impressive too, the ultimate threat proving some of the nastiest, most repulsively icky creations I’ve seen committed to film, and the inspired design work and strong visual effects easily belie the film’s B-movie leanings. Those made uneasy by deep, dark open water or tight, enclosed spaces should take heed that this can be a tough watch, but anyone who likes being scared should find plenty to enjoy here. Altogether a MUCH better film than its mediocre Rotten Tomatoes rating makes it out to be …

21. PENINSULA – back in 2016, Korean director Yeon Sang-ho and writer Park Joo-suk took the tired old zombie outbreak trope and created something surprisingly fresh with their darkly satirical action horror Train to Busan. The film was, deservedly, a massive international smash hit and a major shot in the arm for the sub-genre on the big screen, so a sequel was inevitable, but when the time came for them to follow it up they did the smart thing and went in a very different direction. Jettisoning much of the humour to create something much darker and more intense, they also ramped the action quotient right up to eleven, creating a nightmarish post-apocalyptic version of Korea which has been quarantined from the rest of the world for the last four years, where the few uninfected survivors eke out a dangerous day-to-day existence amidst the burgeoning undead hordes, and the value of human life has plummeted dramatically. Into this hell-on-earth must venture a small band of Korean refugees, sent by a Hong Kong crime boss to retrieve a multi-million dollar payday in stolen loot that got left behind in the evacuation, led by former ROK Marine Corps Captain Jung-seok (Secret Reunion’s Gang Don-won), a man with a tragic past he has to make up for. Needless to say, nothing goes according to plan … Train to Busan was an unexpected masterpiece of the genre, but I was even more bowled over by this, particularly since I got to see this on the big screen on Halloween night itself, just before the UK cinemas closed down again for the Second Lockdown. This certainly is a film that NEEDS to be seen first on the big screen – the fully-realised hellscape of undead-overrun Seoul is spectacularly immersive, the perfect cinematic playground for the film’s most impressive set-pieces, two astounding, protracted high-speed chases with searchlight-and-flair-lit all-terrain vehicles racing through the dark streets pursued by tidal waves of feral zombies. Sure, the plot is predictable and the tone gets a little overblown and maudlin at times, while some of the characters are drawn in decidedly broad strokes, but the breathless pace rarely lets up throughout, and there are moments of genuine fiendish genius on offer here, particularly in a truly disturbing centrepiece sequence in which desperate human captives are set against slavering undead in a makeshift amphitheatre for sport, as well as a particularly ingenious use for radio-controlled cars. And the cast are brilliant, with Don-won providing a suitably robust but also pleasingly fallible, wounded hero, while Hope’s Lee Re and newcomer Lee Ye-won are irrepressibly feisty and thoroughly adorable as the young girls who rescue him from certain death among the ruins. Altogether, this is horror cinema writ large, played more for thrills than scares but knuckle-whitening and brutally effective nonetheless, and in a year where outbreak horror became all too real for us anyway it was nice to be able to enjoy something a little more escapist anyway – given the strength of its competition in 2020, this top-notch sequel to a true genre gem did very well indeed to place this high. I’ll admit, I wouldn’t say no to thirds …

#body cam #body cam movie #blood quantum #the midnight sky #Palm Springs #palm springs movie #the last days of american crime #bill and ted face the music #true history of the kelly gang #just mercy #underwater #underwater movie #underwater 2020 #peninsula #train to busan presents: peninsula #2020 in movies

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aflyingcontradiction · 4 years ago

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The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 80 - The Librarian

Leitner: English was always my first language. I used to adopt an accent sometimes when meeting people, a sort of personal joke, but truth be told, my Norwegian is terrible.

This is obviously an attempt to avoid the inevitable "You said Leitner has an accent but the voice actor doesn't at all!" so it is a little clumsy but about as non-clumsy as you could get, trying to retcon that. Better than Johnny's dad attempting to put on a bad Norwegian accent!

Leitner: The arrow, however, was not mine. The ‘Not!Sasha’ had come down several times.

I'd totally forgotten that the arrows were the Not!Sasha's work, specifically.

Leitner: Three years ago, I made the mistake of spending a full night outside my safehouses. I was almost beaten to death by an angry goth.

I'm sorry but the description of Gerard as 'an angry goth' and the incensed tone in which Leitner says it is hilarious - like the experience would somehow have been less upsetting if the person beating him within an inch of his life had had a more mainstream style of dress or something.

Leitner: I was born the heir to great wealth.

Yeah, he would've been - he sounds exactly like the sort of arrogant arse who has been told he's better than other people since birth and who fully believes it despite never actually proving it in any way. He also burns up other "lesser" people to light his own way with little to no remorse whatsoever.

Leitner: It was shortly afterwards I hired my first assistant. A dour man, by the name of Albert Stross. He barely lasted a fortnight.

He sounds so fucking BORED about it, too.

Leitner: And these people, they were… wrong somehow. They didn’t move as people should move, and their cadence was very strange when they spoke. They almost always forgot to blink.

So agents of the Stranger, presumably? Some more John Doe-s?

Thomas McMann was stabbed through the throat by something with too many teeth and limbs like knives. Mary Johnson was pulled into a cavernous maw that opened beneath her. Gregory Todd ran into a door that shouldn’t have been there. A great hand reached down through the roof and plucked away Leandra Toulouse. And there was one other assistant, whose… whose name I don’t recall, but the last I saw of him, he was being pulled into a great, pulsating pile of meat.

Okay, let's analyse this. The first avatar could be the Hunt or the Slaughter, maybe? The second one sounds a little like that Flesh maw that is mentioned in multiple episodes BUT there's already another avatar of the Flesh here and there's no mention of glistening or teeth or what-not so I'm thinking the Buried? The third one is obviously our dear Distortion, so the Spiral. The great hand could be the Vast, can't really think of anything else it might be. And the final avatar is very obviously of the Flesh. So between that and the presumed Stranger avatars above, we've got at least avatars from 6 different Entities working together to destroy Leitner's library.

Perhaps I was sensible enough to steer clear of the rooms that had fallen into darkness, or burned with a fire that seemed to leave the books untouched.

And here we have the Dark and the Desolation, so that brings it to 8 different entities. And the Eye very well could have been involved cause somebody figured out what Leitner was doing, even though he was trying very hard to keep it under wraps (but that could easily just have been Leitner fucking up somewhere along the way).

Jon: Like a… a, a muscle, spasming on reflex? Leitner: Yes, that’s actually rather good. Jon: It would explain Michael’s identity issues.

Oooh no, there's so much more to it than that...

Jon: Gertrude was going to destroy the Archives?

Now, that was a "Wait ... WHAT?" moment on the first go!

Jon: This place belongs to one of them, doesn't it? (...) Jon: And I ... Leitner: You belong to it too. Jon: I… Uh… I… I think I need some air.

Yeah, fair enough! That's a hell of a revelation to have about oneself!

Leitner: I’m not sure you would have liked him, you know. He’s paranoid enough. But I don’t think he’s got the stomach for it.

Yeah, unlike Gertrude, Jon is definitely not eager to sacrifice others, even "for the greater good".

Elias: How much have you told him? Leitner: Enough. Elias: About Gertrude? Leitner: No. No, I didn’t have time.

How does Leitner lie to Elias with such ease? Is it the power of one of the books?

Tim: Any sign of the woman? Martin: I don’t think so. We should have helped her.

They saw Helen, didn't they?

My impression of this episode

This episode is a little on the info-dumpy side but at the time of my first listen I had been looking forward to finally understanding what the Entities were and what was going on (because, yeah, I had been a little spoiled but had avoided extensive spoilers) that I didn't really mind. The worldbuilding of TMA was (and still is!) interesting enough on its own to hold my attention, even if it was perhaps a bit much to reveal this amount in a single episode. And there's ... well, there's a whole lot going on aside from that, not least the murder of Jurgen Leitner by Elias.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years ago

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Hello Tumblr

The subreddit has directed me here to promote my realfic(s) about actor Richard Armitage on Ao3.

I do not know the etiquette of doing this, but here I am...

Here’s the first chapter of the ludicrous romcom I’m writing right now...

°1° ~Victoria~

Victoria, Vic to her friends and Vicky to her father and Tory to her ex-husband, walked briskly towards the little café at the end of her street, lifting her shoulders to her ears to shield herself as much as possible from the wind that cut into her skin and made her face flush an unflattering shade of windburned red.

She had no idea what Angie and Liza were up to, but apparently, she was to have high tea today, which in itself was not a reason to distrust her friends, but a little voice at the back of her head told her quite clearly that this was not going to end the way she had anticipated, and she was already annoyed before even knowing what they would spring on her.

As her heels clacked on the pavement in an impatient staccato, she yanked her handbag that kept sliding off her shoulder a little harder to wrestle it back in place and slammed it into her face with full force.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She cried out in the middle of the street, rolling her eyes at her own incompetence.

When she pushed open the door though, the warm smell of cinnamon and coffee wafted into her cold, numb face and she relaxed a little, especially as the young girl behind the counter gave her big, beaming smile and took the dark grey coat from her with perfect understated courtesy.

Victoria loved this place, she had loved it from the very first time her former husband had taken her here to introduce her to the owner of the little shop for whom he had a strange fascination (which turned out to be run-of-the-mill horniness, as Angie was a lesbian).

Once, this had been a townhouse much like the one Victoria lived in now, and the old doors were still clearly visible in the bright, open room where polished white tables and dainty chairs with faded blue upholstery invited for a quiet sit-down with a good book and a steaming cup of coffee or tea.

On the old mantlepiece over a disused fireplace, daisies and peonies smiled at her from a slightly kitschy, ornate vase and her favourite spot, right next to the huge windowfront looking out on a neat little courtyard with wrought-iron tables and chairs in impeccable white, was waiting for her.

Angie had worked wonders with the small, crowded rooms, making them appear more spacious without losing the cosy feeling they had once held, and every artfully decorated plate hung on the wall had a special meaning to the dreamy, romantic woman who was the owner and boss of the establishment.

As far as middle-aged women went, Victoria was a good enough catch with her reasonably attractive physique and her actually very pretty face, not to mention her considerable smarts and her undeniable wealth, BUT Victoria was also notoriously stubborn and easily angered.

Most importantly though, at least that was what Angie and her beloved Liza thought, Victoria had taken the ludicrous and completely insane decision never to date another man again after her divorce and they were having none of that nonsense.

Hence why they were about to have high tea with her to gauge how hot her distemper was still burning after months where she had shut herself away in that little house she had taken to spite her family and avoid her ex-husband, refusing to take most calls and only ever coming to the tearoom to read a script.

As a member of a highly successful production-team, Liza had decided to offer Vic a spot as proof-reader of scripts, as her friend seemed particularly good at finding mistakes or inconsistencies. Also, Liza was convinced that Vic needed a few stories in her rather dull life after the childhood and youth she had had.

Vic took her new job as seriously as she did everything else in her life, her existence as a hermit included, and this made Angie’s plan to find her nice man to at least bed increasingly hard.

“She doesn’t want a man.” Liza had rolled her eyes at her, but Angie was convinced that it was not good for a woman to leave home and hide somewhere in London in a tiny townhouse and refuse to meet any kind of new person. It made people bitter, and she definitely didn’t want Vic to become bitter.

“Jesus, Angie, listen, I see bitter old men every day at work.” Liza had laughed, but when her girlfriend’s eyes flashed a feline green, the idea had taken hold in her own head to convince Vic to change her mind after all.

Only, not only did Vic not want to meet any men, no, she had made it very clear that there was a certain type of man that she would never ever exchange a single word with again: wealthy, suave, and handsome men, which was exactly the kind of men Liza had to sell a dime a dozen.

In this very second, she watched Vic settle down in her usual spot, waiting for her friends to arrive, her eyes narrow, suspicious slits as she surveyed her surroundings with hawk-eyed distrust.

~Richard~

He was surprised to see his phone light up and when he saw the name on the screen, his amazement only grew. There was no good reason why Martin would call him up just now as they’d meet a few days hence for one of those terrible meetings where all the rich and beautiful would stand around, bored to tears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He picked up his phone, nonetheless, curious what his friend could want from him.

Martin droned on about all kinds of things before making sure that Richard would indeed show up on that fateful evening, he had just been musing about a few minutes earlier.

It was vital that the man would be there for the success of the plan that he had hatched out with a dear friend of his, which consisted of getting two boorish, middle-aged twats to have a roll in the hay.

Maybe that hay would be pure spun gold, but the roll would be the same as it was everywhere else on this planet for all kinds of people. As far as he knew, the woman Liza had pitched had been made a millionaire by her divorce…and an emotional cripple.

After having married her high-school sweetheart, she had been replaced by a woman 10 years her junior as soon as the money and the fame started rolling in. If Liza was to be believed, she had put her heart and soul into that marriage and into the platform she now owned 50% of, which made of this banker’s daughter a good catch…Only, she apparently hated all men with a burning passion now.

Enter stage left, a rather underwhelming specimen of said population: inveterate bachelor, notoriously shy and often awkward and still stunningly handsome artiste extraordinaire Richard Armitage.

Martin had no idea how much he and Liza had drunk that evening to really believe, even for a single moment, that it would be a good idea to pair a hissing, angry, and disillusioned divorcee with a man who had not even been able to convince wide-eyed ingénues of his merit, but for some reason, they had shaken hands on their game plan and he would be damned if he was the one to drop the ball on this one.

“Yes, I will come. Why?”

That makes two of them being suspicious from the get-go, Martin thought, feeling the challenge raise his hackles and light a fire within his chest. This could be great fun if they managed to pull it off.

“Just checking in on you, old horse, don’t get your panties in a bunch over it.” Martin chirped cheerily, rubbing his hands noiselessly as he popped the earbuds in to move around the house while being on the phone like the puttering busybody he was.

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose in silent exasperation, he worked too much and socialised too little, he was well aware of that, but God, what did people expect of him? Secretly, he HAD thought about ducking out of this function on the down low, but now, that was virtually impossible as at least one person would indeed be looking out for him to show up.

There was an edge to Martin’s voice that he didn’t like all too much either as it announced some mischief he could not yet fathom, but already, he could feel the shadow of those dark rainclouds falling on him and it made him frown impatiently.

He had no time to be the butt of a joke or the unsuspecting victim of some cruel prank that had been hatched in good faith, he had no doubt whatsoever about that, but he was too old to be made a fool of in public and he hoped that his friend would know that, and respect his boundaries.

Poppycock, the hell he would, Richard thought with a sigh, rubbing his forehead to dispel the headache that was building constantly behind his eyes. He really should be wearing those glasses more consistently, but he tended to forget when he was sitting around at home, lounging comfortably around with a good book and planning a productive, prolific future that would keep him from thinking too much about the things he had missed out on.

“I’ll be there, don’t you worry.” He grumbled, hoping that there would be enough mainstream artists so he could blend into the background and slip out of the crosshairs of those who were after some funny business.

“Then I’ll see you there. I’m sure you’ll look ravishing.” Martin chuckled and earned a disgruntled growl from his friend and colleague which made him laugh silently. Oh, he was smelling that something was up, Richard was too smart to be taken unawares, but he was also adorably easily to get flustered sometimes, and, if he was honest, Martin enjoyed that a great deal.

For a second, he pondered if it would be cheating to pull Ben into the fray, but he knew that he’d need help to steer poor, old Richard into the right direction and there was only so much a single man could do.

#richard armitage #fanfic #writing #longfic #realfic #ao3 #introduction #hello #fanfiction #tom hiddleston #oc #never say never #same username #rpf

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nclkafilms · 4 years ago

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A master’s lacking homage to a masterpiece

(Review of ‘Mank’)

*Warning: contains minor spoilers*

In recent years, Netflix have really upped their awards season contributions by giving either huge budgets, total creative freedom or a mix of these to some of Hollywood's biggest directors. In 2018 Alfonso Cuaron gave us his deeply personal and technically impressive 'Roma'. In 2019 we received Martin Scorsese's long and long-awaited epos 'The Irishman'. Both received 10 Oscar nominations, but both also struggled to invite their viewers fully onboard (The Irishman in particular). In 2020, Netflix is back with 'Mank'; this time giving David Fincher a platform to create a black-and-white love letter to screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz, the often overlooked writer of 'Citizen Kane'. 'Mank' has also received 10 Oscar nominations, but has Fincher learned from Cuaron and Scorsese by making a more inclusive film experience?

In the story we follow Howard, or simply Mank as he is mostly referred to, as he has been asked to write the screenplay for Orson Welles’ first film for studio RKO. Welles has received full creative control of his films and has head hunted Mank to be his writer. Mank - being trapped to his sickbed due to a car accident - is put under pressure by a strict time limit, his secretary Rita Alexander and Welles’ desire to keep Mank away from alcohol, to which he has succumbed for years. It is, however, through numerous flashbacks to Hollywood in the 30’s that we slowly unravel the true inspiration behind Mank’s now historic screenplay for ‘Citizen Kane’. Hollywood is - as the rest of America - suffering the consequences of the recession and the film studios are under pressure from decreasing ticket sales and the threat of a democrat (or socialist as they denounce him as) running for office in California. As hinted at here, ‘Mank’ tells stories of everything from the film industry and the process of writing a screenplay to politics, media and the blurred lines between these industries while adding some remarks on Hollywood’s male dominance along the way and plenty of easter eggs to ‘Citizen Kane’ itself. We rush back and forth between Mank’s writing process and the ghosts of his past, and it is definitely an advantage to either know quite a bit about this period of time or give the film a second watch to fully understand the details of the story.

As Herman J. Mankiewicz, Gary Oldman gives another transformative performance. Oldman is without a doubt an extremely talented actor, who it is always a pleasure to observe. As Mank he gives it everything he has as the drunken screenwriter who after having fallen from the stars suddenly end up producing his best work. His acting when Mank is at his most drunk, most uncontrollable is balancing just on the edge of feeling overdone, and I am having a hard time relating to him in these scenes. It is, however, in his more subtle scenes as when he realises the potential consequences of a quick remark about the power of the film industry in relation to politics or in his final conversations with people about his screenplay, that Oldman shines the brightest. Is it an Oscar-worthy performance, though? I’m not sure.

The other Oscar nominated performance is from Amanda Seyfried as the actress, Marion Davies, the mistress of media mogul William Hearst. Seyfried - as Oldman - gives everything and her character ends up being both more relatable and compelling than Oldman’s titular character. What she does is not overly showy, but she manages to create a character who is both seductive, funny and interesting, when it comes to her trying to find her place in the grand political and artistic puzzle that she has been caught in. The scene in which she refuses to help Mank, not necessarily because she disagress with what he’s asking, but simply to save her face, is in particular well-acted and saying for the character. Sadly, Seyfried is not given that many scenes or material to work with, and as such Davies remains a character that I would have loved to see more of and explore further.

In additional supporting roles, Lily Collins as Rita Alexander, Charles Dance as William Hearst and Arliss Howard as film producer Louis B. Mayer stand out the most. Lily Collins manages to give Oldman some competition in their scenes especially regarding Alexander’s missing husband, Ian. Not unlike Marion Davies, though, Alexander is never explored in depth. We get a much clearer idea of who William Hearst and Louis B. Mayer were. As Hearst, Charles Dance delivers an icy performance as the mighty media mogul, who unknowingly becomes the focus for Mank’s screenplay. Dance is always interesting and his turn as Hearst is no exception. Especially the scene in which he recites the parable of the organ grinder’s monkey is memorable and satisfying to watch. As Louis B. Mayer, Arliss Howard also gives an icy, yet more explosive, performance as a man in power. If I was a film producer who has worked with Fincher, I would probably look in the mirror an extra time after seeing Howard’s performance as Mayer. He - along with Fincher - creates a cynical and often two-faced character, who ultimately follows the money and influence despite preaching about the importance of his MGM family (only to ask them to half their wages in the following scene). As such Hearst and Mayer are used to portray the cynicism and moral corruption caused by money and power; a familiar topic for Fincher, who this time aims his cinematic weapons at his own industry.

Another guarantee from a Fincher film is his impeccable attention to detail and unapologetic perfectionism when it comes to the technical aspects of his films. And ‘Mank’ is no exception; above everything else it is a technical marvel. The vision to create the film as if it was made in the 40’s has been executed close to perfection. The black-and-white cinematography in 2.20:1 aspect ratio (wonder why they went for this rather than 1.33:1) is a feast for the eyes; the addition of reel-change circles as part of the “degrading” post-production of the visuals does feel rather gimmicky, however. I got the “old film” feel without that, but it is without a doubt a detail held dear by Fincher himself. I would have preferred to either not have them or for the film to have been shot on film, though. Especially since the production design is beautiful and manages to create a believable and buzzing Hollywood aesthetic, which didn’t need the additional digital ageing on top. The sound design works better, adding to the “old film” feel first of all because of the fact that it is in mono, but also due to it being deliberately recorded, mixed and toned to sound “old”. It feels less gimmicky than the visual aspects of the film. To round off the film’s sound is a close to perfect score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, who once again proves their versatility by creating a playful score that oozes Hollywood in the 40’s.

Hollywood is also the main focus of the screenplay by David Fincher’s late father; a project close to the hearts of both father and son for years. But despite the endearing narrative of this aspect of the film, I cannot help but feel that the old Fincher’s script is one of the film’s main problems. It simply lacks focus and a structure that aids the story. The film is presented as the story behind the greatest screenplay of all time, but in reality it seems least interested in the screenwriting process. Of course, this holds a meaning too; about the different things influencing a screenplay, but instead it ends up standing on too many legs for it to be well balanced. The flashbacks do tell the overall story of Mank’s screenplay influences, but Fincher’s screenplay seems more interested in the politics, the film industry portrayal and the depiction of Mank’s inner demons. It never fully lands any of these plot lines to absolute satisfaction. The closest is the political story about the sudden invention of post-truth politics or “fake news”, which obviously is a comment to the current political climate. It features interesting thoughts on the ideas behind and consequences of this kind of political work, but it also distances me from the main plot, which is further sidelined by the - obviously deliberate, but questionable - lack of Orson Welles in the story. He is always in the periphery of the story, but never lands as anything but a caricature of the slightly arrogant wonder boy stripping our main hero from proper acknowledgement (for a long time).

Now, let's return to my opening question: is 'Mank' a more inclusive film experience than other Netflix awards season darlings such as 'Roma' or 'The Irishman'? Well… While 'Mank' has been the most entertaining of the three in my eyes, the regrettable conclusion must be a "no". Looking at the individual parts they are all exquisitely executed, apart from the disjointed screenplay, and the film is an immense pleasure to look at and listen to. Ultimately it is just less than the sum of all its individual parts. It has all the components to become a masterpiece, it just never weaves them into one. It is a party that we are never fully invited to. This does not mean that I do not applaud Fincher for sticking to his visions or Netflix for giving him creative freedom, I simply just wish they did not keep me at an arm's length throughout the 131 minutes.

3,5/5

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More

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This Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone analysis contains spoilers.

The ending will be discussed at length. If you haven’t seen it, I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. Find the film, watch it with fresh eyes, then come back and celebrate The Death of Michael Corleone.

“The power to absolve debt is greater than the power of forgiveness,” Michael Corleone observes in the revelatory new opening of Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. He may well be speaking for Francis Ford Coppola. The Godfather Part III concluded the family saga, made a profit for Paramount Pictures, and garnered seven Oscar nominations in its time, but Coppola has never been forgiven for it. The 1990 film has such an undeserved reputation, it almost feels like there was a vendetta against it. Having seen the new cut several times, the director can finally be absolved of sins he never committed.

Coppola’s finale has been bashed for its structure. Critics said he was just going through the motions and the arc of the first two films, and doing it much too slowly. However, the filmmaker was making one long film, and this is the conclusion. It references the other two films because the reality which forms this family history is well known. It is canon, the arcs are similar because each film dissembles William Shakespeare’s King Lear. The Godfather, Part III also has the balls to wear its opera cape up front, and it’s a Sicilian one. But does it move as slow as critics accused? We get an ear bite in the first quarter, a helicopter mass execution, and enough intrigue for three Hitchcock films.

The Godfather, Coda is not much different than The Godfather Part III. Coppola only cut five minutes from the 162 minutes of the original. But like a good haircut, it makes a difference, even though I think he took too much off the top. The streamlining speeds it up and makes it feel more tragic. Michael’s regrets are palpable, the dangers he and his family face are recognizable. It’s the same movie but tighter. The Godfather and The Godfather Part II are perfect films, like Casablanca or Citizen Kane, not a single scene is less than flawlessly framed, acted, and situated. The third one is a little sloppy. It happens. Martin Scorsese’s Mean Streets is sloppy and works perfectly because of it. To this writer, Mean Streets packs more of an emotional punch than Goodfellas, which is also cinematic perfection from setup to cut. The Godfather III is rough around the edges.

Coppola loves the editing room as much as any wine vineyard. He recut Apocalypse Now Redux, and added scenes which may not have been imperative, but are wholly welcome. Coppola filled in the storyline to The Cotton Club for his reworking. When The Godfather trilogy was recut and re-released as a seven-hour chronological saga, it was like hearing the Beatles’ White Album with discarded tracks included. Scenes which landed on the cutting room floor were put back in. The Godfather, Coda takes scenes out. We get less of Eli Wallach’s Machiavellian cannoli-lover Don Altobello, which is a shame because his performance has grown on me since my initial viewing. Coppola also cuts Talia Shire’s Connie Corleone when she goes full-on Lucretia Borgia, ordering an execution in a chapel.

The Godfather Part III is the purest of the saga’s films in terms of cinematic input. The first film was a masterful adaptation of Mario Puzo’s book. The second one also drew heavily from the book. By the third, the motion picture saga was on its own. Part III was also the first of the films which didn’t have the Godfather himself, Vito Corleone, in it. Marlon Brando’s performance is more than iconic; it is Americana itself. Robert De Niro bridges generations as the young Vito in The Godfather Part II. Al Pacino’s Michael is the only godfather here.

“The Pope, the Holy Father, on this very day has blessed Michael Corleone. You think you know better than the Pope?”

The original cut of The Godfather Part III opens on the flooded Corleone compound in Lake Tahoe and dissolves to Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Lower Manhattan’s Little Italy. The Godfather, Coda opens with a low-angle establishing shot of the exterior of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It looks like a relic of another time. It is surrounded by the cold steel and glass of modern architecture. The midtown cathedral represents old money.

The first scene is a meeting between Michael Corleone and head of the Vatican Bank, Archbishop Gilday (Donal Donnelly). The Vatican is selling controlling shares in real estate conglomerate Internazionale Immobiliare to the Corleone family. These details don’t come out until 30 minutes into The Godfather Part III. By now putting the Vatican meeting at the beginning, followed by the Vito Corleone Foundation celebration, it fits better into the structure of The Godfather, and gives the proper weight to the deals with the Holy Roman Church.

The scene also reestablishes the Corleones as a family of great wealth. They have so much money they can bail out the Vatican. We don’t know how they made that money; we get very little detail about the years between The Godfather Part II and the late 1970s, when The Godfather, Coda is set.

We assume the Corleones had nothing to do with heroin, probably sidestepped any involvement in the Kennedy assassination, and stuck with the traditional vices, which could be best maneuvered into real power. We can imagine a Hoffa scenario because of their union involvement, but we get little indications of business beyond the chase for legitimacy. With this deal, Michael will be one of the wealthiest men in the world.

Moving the meeting also casts the archbishop in the same role that the funeral director played in the opening scene of The Godfather. The priest’s favor becomes his regret, but in a way that inverts the structure of the original film. The funeral director came to Don Corleone seeking justice after chasing the American dream, believing in it with all his soul as much as he believed in holy Mary, mother of God.

Archbishop Gilday’s impossible dream is to turn that around, to siphon the American success of the Corleone family back to Italy, after skimming his part, of course. Michael is awarded the Order of St. Sebastian from the Catholic Church after the charity run by his daughter Mary (Sofia Coppola) donates $100 million to the institution. Immobiliare is the other side of the coin, and it is a beautiful flip.

The move also fits the film closer to the original 1972 classic, positioning the Vito Corleone Foundation ceremony as the wedding scene, and introducing us to the players, and the ones who don’t play well with others. Joe Mantegna plays Joey Zasa, who is a stand-in for the John Gotti ascendancy, running Don Corleone’s old territory now that the family has moved up. Eli Wallach ties us into the family behind the family. Vincent Mancini is the bastard son of Sonny Corleone and his mistress Lucy. Actor Andy Garcia clearly enjoys this part. He turns into James Caan a few times.

Sofia Coppola’s performance has been called flat, amateurish, and not in the same universe as the rest of the film. Mary is an important part. For most of the audience, she is the most recognizable character as far as an entry into the world of the underworld. Sofia did it because her father needed her, and quickly. Winona Ryder’s unexpected bout of physical exhaustion didn’t fit with Paramount’s time schedule, and the studio’s replacement options didn’t fit the age of the character.

Coppola’s 18-year-old daughter, Sofia, still had baby fat on her face. She’d made appearances in Rumble Fish and Peggy Sue Got Married, and was used to working with her father, even though she was not an actor. European filmmakers cast non-actors all the time; they bring a real quality to roles. Lenny Montana, who played Luca Brasi in The Godfather, was a former wrestler who came to the set as the bodyguard of a ranking Colombo family member. Martin Scorsese’s mother Catherine makes an appearance in The Godfather Part III. Sofia is playing herself, a college freshman who wants to help her father.

This makes the gnocchi scene feel almost uncomfortably incestuous. Mary is Vincent’s first cousin, and we can see in the way they look at each other; it’s wrong even though it feels so right. Sofia is natural in her scenes, not emotive. She is the tourist the audience needs to circumnavigate the treacherous waters. Mary is the civilian who becomes the collateral damage of the Corleone family life. She takes the bullet intended for her father, Don Michael Corleone. Sofia did the same for her father, becoming the scapegoat for a job she took to get his movie in on time.

Movies

Redeeming The Legacy Of The Godfather Part III

By Don Kaye

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The Real Goodfellas: Gangsters That Inspired the Martin Scorsese Film

By Tony Sokol

Mary’s death scene has been called the worst in the history of motion pictures. It never was, and as presented in the recut, it’s entirely, emotionally effective. It’s not Bette Davis in Dark Victory, and even though it happens on the stone steps of a church, it isn’t James Cagney’s death scene in The Roaring Twenties. It isn’t meant to be. It is sad. The death itself is one of the most underplayed in film, but the music gives it the tragedy to match Michael’s reaction.

It is hard to resist the pull of the music when considering how much of a worthy ending this cut is to The Godfather saga. The themes are the trilogy’s blood and wine. Composer Nino Rota tells us when to celebrate and how to mourn. We relive Michael’s lost love Appollonia more through our ear’s memory than we do from the faded black and white photograph in the old Sicilian villa. And his reunion with Kay evokes the post-war era they met in. The music ties the film together so beautifully that this time around it feels like the skin of the original, rather than its clothes.

By the end of the film, the emperor has no clothes. Michael thinks he can break a glass ceiling through legitimate business but admits “The higher I go, the crookeder it becomes.” Senators and presidents have men killed. The church is no different. Legitimacy is an illusion. Coppola saw The Godfather Part III as an epilogue. Paramount wanted to grow a franchise. Coppola had to be persuaded to make a sequel to the first film. Paramount wanted Coca-Cola instead of wine. And they treated The Godfather Part III like the Fredo of Godfather movies.

Fredo is all over this film. How he died is the first question Mary asks Vincent. It’s the last rite in Michael’s confession to the Vatican priest who will become Pope, a scene which contains one of the funniest exchanges in the film. Michael tells Cardinal Lamberto (Raf Vallone) a list of his sins would take up too much time. The first cut may have been the deepest, but the final cut in The Godfather, Coda is the most ironic. Coppola adds the subtitle, in quotations, apart from the puppeteer logo of the films and book, and then takes exactly that promise away.

The final scene cut from The Death of Michael Corleone is the death of Michael Corleone.

The Godfather Part III ends as Michael is sitting alone outside a villa in Sicily. All family debts have been settled, but he has no family left. He is wearing dark glasses, slumps in his chair, loses his grip on the orange in his lap, and falls dead to the ground. Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone ends, not only with him still alive, but wishing him Cent’anni, telling the audience it means “for long life” and reminding viewers “a Sicilian never forgets.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The phrase actually translates to 100 years. Imagine how many Godfather sequels could be made in that time. Michael is left alive, alone. Atonement is beyond him. He loses his family just as he is on the precipice of finally being able to give them what they need. But the coda to Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone is an allegory to what Paramount wanted, more life. Yes, Al Pacino’s Don Michael Corleone spent all this time waiting for them to pull him back in.

The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone is available now on Blu-ray and digital.

The post The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

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Roguish Women Part 1 *Tommy Shelby*

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

82 Boulevard de Clichy

Paris, France

1925

The Moulin Rouge.

The city of love. A city of lights and illusions. A city where one could lose sight of their troubles. A city where one could hide in plain sight.

“Monsieur Shelby!” A plump man with a red face greeted the men at the door. He was dressed in a scarlet-colored suit and Tommy couldn’t help but think how the man would stick out like a sore thumb in Birmingham. But in Paris, he fit in like he was one of the landmarks. “Bonjour, bonjour, welcome to the Moulin Rouge.”

The Peaky Blinders were there for business. Not the cabaret, but Paris. A man had contacted Tommy some time ago, asking to negotiate about importing car parts and subsequently firearms with a little bit of cocaine to sweeten the deal.

Conversations over the telephone were held until the man invited Tommy and his brothers to seal the deal in person. None of the Shelbys had been back in France since the War. It caused a knee-jerk reaction of disgust but it was a big deal that they couldn’t pass up.

Paris was nothing like the countryside they fought on. The city was electric and it was hard to believe the city had faced the same war only a few years prior.

“There is a table upstairs for you, Monsieur Dugas is waiting.” The man ushered the Blinders into the crowded venue. Tables crowded around a massive dance floor where a group of girls was putting on a show. Beautiful women wearing elaborate costumes covered in frills, gemstones, and feathers. Their outfits shimmered in the spotlights, a far cry from what would’ve been deemed appropriate only a few years ago. Shorthaired and hiking up their skirts, these girls captivated the audience, hypnotizing the men who dared glance their way. How could they look away from women dancing in such outfits?

Arthur and John were positively chuffed at the display and jostled each other as they climbed the stairs to the second level. The promenade that overlooked the dance floor was a bit tamer. Tables were set up against the railing allowing people a good view of the stage below. A bit quieter than the main floor, it was the perfect place for their meeting.

A man stood up when he saw the entourage approach. “Monsieur Shelby, thank you for joining me.”

“Mr. Dugas.” Tommy nodded politely and shook hands with the businessman.

“I trust you had a pleasant trip over from England?” The well-dressed man sat, gesturing for the rest to sit as well.

John and Arthur took a seat, leaving Finn and Isaiah to stand as guard though the younger men were distracted by the women around them.

Martin Dugas was a businessman to the core. Every drop of blood in his body was dedicated to the trade. Whether or not the things he did were legal wasn’t the issue.

A waiter arrived with an ice-cold bottle of champagne, letting Dugas inspect the label. “Gentlemen, champagne? Then we can talk business.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A deal was settled within the hour. Although his brothers were keen to drink through the entire negotiation process, Tommy kept his wits about him. He wasn’t going to let a wild environment and French champagne cloud his judgment. But once the deal was made, the two men shook hands to confirm. Contracts would be signed the next morning.

Once the ink on the contract began to dry, Finn and Isaiah to go mingle with the entertainment. Tommy waved them off with his hand, letting them have their fun. He wasn’t interested in the women at the cabaret, he was there purely on business and wasn't going to get caught up in the lights of the club.

“Whiskey, Tom. You can relax.” Arthur handed his brother a glass. “Got everything you want, din’t ya?”

Tommy nodded but he couldn’t help but scan the scene around them. John already had a pretty brunette perched on his lap and was flagging a waiter down for another whiskey. A woman clad in a corset and fishnets was giggling at every word Finn and Isaiah had to say, causing the men to practically drool all over her.

“Need to take a walk,” Tommy muttered. Standing up, he stubbed out his cigarette and went for the stairs. Pushing his way past a few partiers on the stairs, he made his way down to the first floor.

There were about a dozen girls on the dance floor, dancing to the live music that was loud enough to make the venue tremble. Some of the women on the dance floor were beckoning to men, luring them out to dance with them. Tommy ignored a few propositions to dance and continued towards the exit.

Tommy passed by a group of young men, most likely a stag party. They were all sloshing drunk and hollering at one of their mates who was doing his best to keep up with one of the dancers. It briefly reminded him of how he and his brothers once were. When they were younger and hadn’t been broken by the war. They often spent long nights out, getting drunk and high. Trying their best to win over the prettiest women at the bar.

Despite only walking past them, he caught a glimpse of one of the men grabbing roughly at the woman. A flash of discomfort crossed her face and she made a move away from him.

The party booed and taunted their friend. The man on the dance floor egged on, kicked out one of her heels bringing the woman to her knees in front of him.

Tommy heard her yelp of pain, a sharp contrast to the large brass section blaring away. The arrogance made something snap inside of Tommy and he wasn’t about to pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

The Blinder pushed past the stag party and out onto the dance floor. “Oi!” He barked.

The man who had grabbed a fistful of the woman’s hair, startled at his shout. A clueless look passed over his drunk, glazed eyes. He said something in French but it was lost to the music.

Tommy grabbed him by the collar and spoke two words that he assumed the man would understand. If he didn’t know the words, he’d be able to translate the tone. “Fuck off.” He spat and shoved him back towards his friends.

The stag party began to act up again, shouting some angry words in French and making steps towards Tommy. But the Blinder quickly squashed their outrage by flicking open his coat and showing them the pistol in his holster. The flash of a gun was enough to make the drunk men hastily retreat.

The young woman was trying to get up off her knees. One of her hands went to her hair, the other resting on the filthy wood floor. She watched as a pair of shoes stopped in front of her. They were expensive, shined to perfection, and waited patiently.

The dancer looked up with tears in her eyes to see the man who saved her. Her knight in shining armor. Although he wore an expensive suit instead of armor. He had dark hair and stunningly cold blue eyes. He silently reached out a hand to her.

Shaking, she took his hand and allowed him to help her stand. “Merci.” She whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Tommy answered in English so she was aware he didn’t speak fluent French.

“You’re British?”

His forehead wrinkled in mild shock when he heard her accent. “You’re American?”

She nodded and let her hand slip from his. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

The dancer looked down at her heels. “I may have twisted my ankle but it’s nothing to fuss about.” She shrugged.

“Can you walk?”

She forced a smile. “Don’t need to walk. Just need to be able to dance.”

“Can you dance?”

“I have to unless I want to be fired.”

He frowned and glanced around them. “Won’t be fired while I’m here. C’mon, there a room you can sit down? Somewhere quieter? Maybe get you some ice for your ankle.” There was no room for negotiation in his tone.

Since he was a patron, she was supposed to give him what he wanted. And if he wanted her to go sit in the back room while he fetched her ice, then who was she to deny him?

“We can use one of the dressing rooms.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

After Tommy retrieved some ice from the bar, the dancer led him to the back hallway. Although the music could still be heard and felt through the walls, it was much quieter behind the scenes. There were many dressing rooms, able to hold about ten girls at a time, but there was only one that was empty. Costumes and props were scattered around cluttering the space. Women rushed around the mess trying to get ready for an upcoming act.

Tommy helped the woman onto a chair and grabbed a towel left hanging by a mirror. He poured the ice into the towel and tied it up like a sack before pulling up a chair and setting it up in front of her. “Set it up here. Need to keep it elevated ‘fore it swells.”

She obeyed quietly and let him gently place the fashioned ice pack onto her ankle. “Thank you…”

“Shelby, Tommy Shelby.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby. You’re much kinder than other men I’ve met.” She leaned down to remove her heels.

“Are you going to tell me your name too or are you meant to keep that secret?” He pulled out his cigarette tin and offered one to her.

“Some girls take aliases.” She admitted. “My name’s Kate though.” She let him light the cigarette.

The two sat in silence for a moment, smoking and stuck in their own heads.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing here in Paris, aye?” Tommy wondered.

“I uh…” Kate made herself busy by fussing with the ice on her ankle and fixing her hair. “My father had debts and they were after my family. So I came here to get away from that life I was just a dancer at home. A ballet dancer.” Her green eyes lit up with joy when she mentioned her passion. The love she had to leave behind. Still, the joy was short-lived. “But I wasn’t making any money so I came here. They pay better and well…dreams aren’t meant to pay the bills, are they?”

“Are you not just a dancer here?”

She laughed bitterly, the joy instantly leaving her eyes and leaving behind a residue of bitter disappointment. “We aren’t dressed like this for fun, Mr. Shelby.”

He nodded in understanding. “They made you a whore.”

“I prefer the term courtesan but I suppose it’s no improvement.” Kate sighed and tilted forward. Twisting an arm back she tried to loosen the laces of her corset so she could breathe a little easier. “So, Mr. Shelby, if you’re British then what are you doing here?”

“Business.” He replied. “Ordinary business.”

Kate studied his appearance. The man clearly had wealth. He wore a three-piece suit that looked either nicely tailored or custom made. But there was something about the look in his eyes that gave off an air of danger. It was unlike Kate had ever seen in the eyes of a wealthy man. It was evident that he wasn’t someone who inherited his money or struck it rich by chance. He’d worked hard and it had paid off. It was still too early to tell how he’d acquired his wealth. “I meet a lot of businessmen in my line of work.”

“I can imagine.” Tommy was sure that hole-in-the-wall brothels were much cheaper than the cabaret. “How about politicians?”

She let out a nervous laugh and shrugged. “I’m not supposed to say. They expect confidentiality.”

A glint of mischief formed in his blue eyes. The spark of youth that diminished the dark circles under his eyes. “Royalty?”

“If you must know, there was a prince. But that’s all I’m able to say!”

He chuckled and took another drag of his cigarette. “How long d’you think it’ll be before things die down with your family in America?” He wondered.

Kate’s face fell. “I don’t know. My father didn’t tell me how much he owes. 'Sides I doubt he'll ever be able to pay it off.”

Tommy had often been on the debtor’s end of things. Bars and businesses that were well behind what they owed to the Shelby Company. When it warranted a visit, he sent his brothers or sometimes went himself. If violence was necessary, then they could be violent. It didn’t bother them much.

In a moment of weakness, Kate unleashed some pent up frustration. “I’m just sick of being here. I make more than I did at home but I’m still barely getting by. The city is so expensive. I feel like I ought to be living in a penthouse for the amount I’m paying for rent. And I can’t ask for help from anyone. I don’t have any family or friends here. They’re so awful to me here, call me stupid an-and worthless. I’m just so alone and I…” Her eyes met Tommy and she realized she was venting to a complete stranger. “I’m so sorry.” She snapped back into the calm demeanor she was meant to have in front of patrons. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

It occurred to Tommy that he most definitely caused people to flee their homes. Whether it be because of their own mistakes or those of their family member’s, it didn’t matter. The Peaky Blinders had a violent reputation and it was enough to send people running for safety. Safety, but perhaps a worse off situation than before. Hearing Kate air her grievances made him step back and think about the people he’d displaced. “Will you return to America?” His voice quieted as if muted by the thoughts overwhelming his brain.

“I’m not sure.” Kate tried not to think about the future. It did her no good to hope for something that might be so far away. “I’d like to return to a ballet company if I’m able to.”

Tommy’s fingers tapped nervously at his knee. He was getting the urge to do something that was a little unorthodox even by his own standards. Guilt stirred up in his stomach as he thought about the families he might’ve separated in the past. “I may have connections in America. If I were to pay off your father’s debt, I could find you a place there.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “Mr. Shelby that is…” What could the man possibly want in exchange? She couldn’t even imagine what he would proposition next. “I’m not sure what you’d like in return but I…I don’t know if…”

“Nothing in return.” He promised coolly. “Consider it a favor to pay forward in the future.” He gestured with his cigarette.

Every bit of her body wanted to launch forward and seize the opportunity. But it seemed too good to be true. And she knew she couldn’t return to America. “I appreciate that, Mr. Shelby. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to go back to my home for quite some time. I’ve burned too many bridges and have too many enemies.”

It was suspicious that a beautiful woman would possibly have one enemy let alone multiple ones. “What sort of enemies?”

She peered at him with reservation. “Enemies of my father. Why do you ask?” When he simply shrugged, she began to pick up on his game. “You’re not just a normal businessman are you?”

His facial expression didn’t flinch at all. “I assure you I meet the definition of a businessman.”

His blunt response made her laugh. “I’ve met my share of gangsters, Mr. Shelby, you can’t fool me.”

The corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. “What sort of enemies, Kate?”

She adjusted the ice on her ankle and tugged her knees closer to her chest. “Hand me that coat?” She requested instead of answering.

Tommy glanced over his shoulder to where she was pointing. There was a rack of clothing that was waiting to be adorned for the enjoyment of men. Glitter outfits trimmed with fringe that went longer than the skirt hemlines. Elaborate garments with intricate beading and laced with feathers. A careful design that would be lost in the bright lights and under the stares of leering men. Tossed over the rack was a deep navy blue coat with gray fur lining the collar. He handed it over to her, watching as she draped it over her fishnet-covered legs.

Kate finished her cigarette and instantly reached for another one. She needed to relax and the conversation they were having didn’t help. She held out the fresh cigarette for Tommy to light.

He obliged, still awaiting her response.

But she kept him in suspense, taking a few drags. The proper façade of a showgirl. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Italians in Chicago.” She leaned an elbow on the back of her chair, reclining slightly like a centerfold flapper dream. Smoke curling around her bobbed blonde hair. Her eyes framed with kohl and lips painted a dark red.

“I am.” He answered.

“And the Irish in Boston.”

Again, Tommy nodded.

“Let’s just say I’ve had my run ins with them both.”

“Enemies of your father.”

“Correct. They like to use family members against you.” She smiled bitterly and shrugged.

Tommy studied her face but she wasn’t letting much on. There was something unsettling about her backstory but who was he to question it? If anything, a possible informant could be useful if she knew more than she was letting on. “Anything damning you might know?”

She laughed and wagged a finger at him. “Are you trying to loosen my lips, Mr. Shelby?”

He didn’t smile but instead nodded. “You don’t want to be here.” He waved a hand around the dressing room. “You know you deserve more respect than what you get here. If you’ve got information I can use, I’ll compensate you well.”

Kate tilted forward as if her interest was piqued and narrowed her eyes. “What sort of compensation?”

“You name the price.”

There was a slight break in her calm demeanor. A tell of vulnerability. The prospect of leaving Paris with a substantial sum of money in her pocket was alluring. She wouldn’t have to spend each and every night trying to attract attention. Try to pretend she was in love with strangers just so they would pay her more. She chewed on her lip for a moment. There was a chance the information she gave would be traced back to her. The information Tommy wanted could possibly uproot her secrets so she needed to be cautious. A misstep could cause her the life she built in France to come tumbling down in an instant. “I know some names.”

“Names aren’t good enough.”

Kate wrung her hands together. To the average onlooker, it might appear that she was nervous about giving information because it could threaten her safety. Instead, she was nervous because she was lying about who she even was. “I know bootleggers. People my father pissed off.”

If Tommy had been careful enough, he would question how the woman knew so much or who her father was. But he was drunk. Drunk on the possibility of information he could use to build his empire. Perhaps get more gin smuggled in. Buy more property. Expand the company worldwide. He pointed his cigarette at her, his lips turning up in a smile. “Now you’re talking.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Tommy helped Kate out of her fur coat upon entering the hotel suite. The luxury of the ornate room wasn’t new to her. She had spent plenty of time in lavish rooms being spoiled by expensive food, fine wines, and Egyptian cotton. The black, white, and gold embellishments of the Art Deco style was familiar to her. She was used to the light of glittering chandeliers and passing by her reflection in the many mirrored surfaces.

Although the expensive decor wasn’t any comfort to Kate. Not when she had to fake affection and love. In fact, the atmosphere of hotels had begun to make her nauseous. She knew what was awaiting her.

But it still wasn’t exactly clear if those were Tommy’s same intentions. He had expressed interest in what she knew but not her services. Still, he was a man. A man who had become accustomed to the finer things in life and that no doubt included expensive courtesans.

Kate had changed out of her stage costume before departing with Tommy. She left under the guise that he was an expensive client who wanted to take her somewhere a little more intimate. To complete the appearance, she left in a seductive jade colored dress. The one made of silk that left little to the imagination and had a scandalous open back.

Tommy noticed this very quickly as she walked over to the sofa. The silk shifted with every movement, clinging to her body and revealing the curve of her hips. He cleared his throat and hung her coat up on the rack by the door. He was careful to maintain his appearance of business by leaving everything on but his coat. This wasn’t a situation to be comfortable with. He still knew very little about this woman.

“Drink?” Tommy asked while moving to the liquor cart by the large windows. He looked down on the lights of Paris still sparkling in the night.

“Do you have wine?” Kate settled on the plush sofa, grateful to be off of her sore ankle. She reached down to take off her heels and inspect the area. Luckily there didn’t appear to be much swelling.

“Merlot.” He answered after inspecting the lone wine bottle among the liquor.

She made a face. “I prefer Chardonnay. Don’t particularly like red. I’ll just have gin.”

Tommy poured her a glass of gin and whiskey for himself. He walked over with the glasses and set them down on the table by the sofa. He took a seat across from her so they could talk.

“Do you have someone back in England, Mr. Shelby?” Kate wondered. It seemed unfathomable that a handsome and wealthy man like himself wasn’t married. But perhaps he’d simply taken off his wedding band while he was in the Moulin Rouge. Some men did that, some didn’t seem to care and left them on. Kate wasn’t sure which was a worse sin.

Tommy’s mind went to the blonde barmaid he left behind in Birmingham. Grace had captured his attention but it had been a long while since he’d allowed himself to succumb to love. He hadn’t opened his heart up since he lost Greta. But he was getting dangerously close to that territory with Grace. “I’m not married.”

“Hm.” Kate didn’t remark on his answer. But it led her to believe there was someone. It was anyone’s guess why he was keeping it a secret.

“Tell me what you know about the Americans.” Tommy redirected the conversation.

She took a drink of the gin and grimaced at the taste. “I don’t understand why Europeans like their gin so bitter.”

He crossed his arms over her chest and stared at her. For a moment, he doubted his decision to bring her back to the hotel. She could’ve been reading his reactions and telling him what he wanted to know. Could this all be a ruse to get something out of him? Blackmail? Maybe she wanted a free ride to England or even back to America. What if she didn’t know anything?

Kate raised an eyebrow at his expression of displeasure. “Are you always so serious, Mr. Shelby?” She asked.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I asked you a different one.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I’m not here to play games. Either you know something or you’re wasting my time.”

Kate looked slightly amused despite his intense tone. “I grew up in South Boston. They call us Southies. There’s a group there that runs all of the bootlegging operations.”

“The Gustin Gang.” Tommy nodded as this wasn’t news to him. “I’m aware. I’ve done my share of research.” It was necessary to do such investigations if he was really going to expand overseas.

“Then you’ll know that they’re weak. Easy to take over if you’re strong enough.” Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But if you’re so smart, Mr. Shelby, then you won’t need my assistance.”

He balked a little. Yes, he knew about most of the active gangs that controlled the smuggling operations on the east coast as well as Chicago and Detroit. But he didn’t have enough intel to know how they operated or what their weaknesses and strengths were. “I brought you here to give me information.” He replied without explicitly saying that he needed her help. Admitting that would only give her power.

“There are Italians in the North End, lots of them. It doesn’t matter what city you’re in, Boston, New York, Chicago, the Irish hate the Italians and vice versa. Neither of them like to share control. They’re looking for allies, strong allies.”

Tommy considered what she was saying. It was much like London, various gangs all pushing and shoving each other for a larger piece of the pie. Would the Americans find a relationship mutually beneficial? Could he even trust them? Could he trust that Kate wasn’t looking out for her own interests?

“That’s very vague.” He responded.

Her confident demeanor wavered a little. “Well, more in-depth information could get me in trouble. I don’t want to risk that for a man I don’t know very well.”

So they were at a stalemate. Both of them standing with their backs against the wall so neither of them could stab the other when they weren’t paying attention.

“You were in the war,” Kate concluded.

He eyed her for a moment before nodded. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Here. Northern France.” The break in the conversation gave Tommy a chance to find his cigarettes and light one.

Kate watched him. Each movement deliberate and firm. He was a man who hid his weaknesses well. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have any. All men had a weakness. So did women. “You must hate America for coming so late.”

His blue eyes didn’t meet hers as he lit the cigarette. “There were many people to blame. I’ve got more important things to deal with now.”

Little did he know, the woman in front of him had been through trauma. No, she hadn’t been in an active battlefield but she’d fought her own personal wars. Came across enemies who were ruthless. Suffered enough to warrant building up her defenses.

Tommy decided to throw her an incentive. He wasn’t there to talk about the war. “You want to get out of here. If you can’t go back to America would you want to come to England.”

Although she perked up, Kate was suspicious about his intentions. She hadn’t given him enough information to warrant a reward. He’d been vague about his relationship status. Maybe he wanted to bring her along as some sort of toy. “I don’t want to be a whore.” She replied. “Not here, not in America, and not in England.

“What else are you good at?” Tommy replied callously even though he didn’t intend to come off so harsh.

She scoffed, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You mean what am I good at beside fucking men?” Her voice was incredulous.

“I didn’t-”

“I’m not an object, Mr. Shelby, I have plenty of redeeming qualities. Or do you have your head so far up your own ass that you can’t see that?” She demanded.

He subtly rolled his eyes. The woman was testing his patience. “Are you using me?”

“Are you using me? ” She retorted.

Another stalemate. Neither of them looked away or softened their glare. It was as if the world had never seen such a dramatic clash of personalities. A mysterious woman who held valuable information, although it was questionable how she acquired it. And a man who wanted nothing more than to rule an empire but had severely lost his trust for others.

Kate decided to break the tense silence. “Mr. Shelby, you must understand that I fled America for a reason. I’m not looking to stir up the pot again and have them out for blood. They have no issue sending men to come and find me. If I give you information that can be traced back to me, then I have a problem.”

Tommy prided himself on being a good judge of character. He rarely trusted anyone that was outside of his immediate family. It was easy for him to pick up on tells that someone was lying. And he saw the hint of fear hidden behind Kate’s slate-colored eyes. He cleared his throat and stood up to pour himself another whiskey. “Say I were to trust you. You gave me the information I want and in exchange, you come to Birmingham with me. I can give you work at my company. Legitimate work.” He clarified before she argued with him again. “If your information checks out and is valuable, you’ll be compensated. And if there’s a threat on your life, you’ll be under the Peaky Blinders’ protection.”

Kate fidgeted and was a little uneasy with the proposition. But it was the only lifeline she had to get out of Paris. She had men promising her large sums of money before. Enough cash to leave the Moulin Rouge and find a life of her own. But they were hollow promises that were never kept. They promised to bring her home and provide her with everything. But what was expected from her in return made her sick.

Tommy could be holding out. Maybe he would break his promise once he got what he wanted. Maybe he would bring her to Birmingham and still treat her like a whore. Still, the walls were closing in on Kate. She didn’t have another option. It was a calculated risk, but it was a risk for Tommy as well. Maybe that was why she stood up and reached out to shake his hand. Sealing the deal.

//This is cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad. Anywhere else is not my account. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts

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