#Alejandro literally has the ENTIRE cast around his finger | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gasp-iwrotesomething · 4 years ago

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Could you please write a scene where Cal and MC say ‘I love you’ for the first time? Every Friday I’m checking to see if Cal is on the schedule 😂 I miss him so much, but I can’t wait for Season 3!

I do too, anon! It’s unfortunate that he hasn’t been on the schedule yet and I think that’s why I’ve been so eager to do these Cal requests lol (but he is now, I just got back to this request today lmao)! Anyway, your request is cute and I’d love to write it. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

I just realized that a bunch of my Cal fics are about them fighting demons 🙃

Summary: Caught in a trap, Cal turns to MC and asks a dire question. It’s brusque in the face of danger and a weirdly complicated question to answer on MC’s part. Will she say what she’s been thinking for a while or will the trap close in too fast for that?

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Cal and MC slunk towards the location in question, their hands entwined. They had been wary of the credibility of the messenger, considering that they had been a random civilian that could’ve easily been one of Alejandro’s puppets. It had been the same with Brody, where he had been deployed to kill Cal and then once he failed, he was murdered and tossed aside like nothing more than a weapon gone dull. But that was all Alejandro saw in Brody--just another pawn to play with until he couldn’t anymore. What about Brody’s family? Did he have any? Are they still wondering where he is? The charging thoughts within MC’s head dissolve as her emotions take hold, twisting and rapping her heart. It was best not to think about it anymore--he was already dead and there was nothing she could do for him now. Ahead, the deserted convenience store loomed over them, casting a tall shadow onto the pavement. No wind whistled and no cars honked--no people whispered and no people even walked except for Cal and MC. It was so strange to see a facet of Vegas empty and devoid of humanity when that was all you saw in the City of Sin. MC didn’t like the implications it gave--the grave threat that bubbled the convenience store in. If something went wrong, if one of them was hurt... no one would know. Well, not right away, at least. She was more afraid of the consequences of entering alone with Cal then she was of Alejandro’s potential allegiance to their summoner--the most she felt for the guy was fierce anger for siccing Brody on Cal. If he had stayed dead that night...

Well, maybe Alejandro should’ve been afraid of the consequences of his success more than his failure.

Cal keeps MC a step behind him for her protection as he pushes the glass door open, the toll of a small bell overhead missing. MC notices that the bell itself is missing, ripped off somewhere in between time’s journey. Maybe that was a good thing--if the person they were meeting didn’t know they were here yet, then that gifted them some extra time and even an upper advantage. With his gun drawn, Cal motions to MC with his free hand to stay close to the entrance. “Stay put,” he demands grimly, “this might be one of Alejandro’s schemes.” Though MC would prefer to not be alone in such an eerie environment, she nods. There was no use putting up a fight--it would just waste time that could be more useful spent exploring the abandoned convenience store. But, luckily, the troupe was lurking not too far away; ready to leap to their defense if anything did happen. That also contributes to her willingness to stay behind. Cal pivots around and stalks carefully throughout the convenience store, his head peeking out over the decrepit shelves. Because of his height, MC could see him traverse through the aisles--and even if the darkness swallowed most of him in shadow, just knowing that he was still there made her feel secure. At her post, MC casts her eyes around the store, noting how all of the fluorescent lights were smashed and the shelves in some form of disarray.

It looked like a tornado had ripped through this place.

Suddenly, there’s a strange scratching noise that drifts down from the ceiling tiles and MC jumps. What the hell is that?! A rat maybe? The scratching is a little rhythmic--stopping then starting again once a second passed. MC shrinks towards the wall behind her as trepidation hollows her stomach. As it repeats again and again, MC recognizes that the sound eerily repeats the same as it had sounded before. Almost like it was a recording, played over and over again. Alarm bells ring in her head. If it keeps repeating, then that means it’s a distraction. Alejandro’s trying to distract us. Immediately her first reaction is to search for Cal but he’s already on his way to her, his features sharp. “Did you-?!” “Yeah, I heard it too,” Cal intercedes as his frame edges close to MC’s, acting almost like a shield, “stay sharp. He’s got something up his sleeve.” That sense of safety, of ongoing security, flares warm in her chest and MC can’t help but cling to his solidity, silently expecting the worst.

Almost as if on cue, demons seem to spill out from the shadows, webbing out in the convenience store, snarling.

Cal takes that as a cue as well, lifting his pistol towards the hulking figures in the dark. A heavy tension falls over the store as the demons creep closer, their eyes shining in the pitch darkness. The cold metal of her own gun still felt a little alien as she cradled it in her hands--still, after weeks of practice, the weapon still felt strange to hold. Through her fear, MC slides on a determined expression--she wasn’t going to let them get the best of her. Besides, Cal’s here; he’d never let anything happen to me. I won’t let anything happen to him either. She had to be strong for him, if not only for herself. Cal reinforces the barrier he established between MC and the demons, blocking her from their reach. A stray breath could spring them into action--something that could end with Cal and MC’s defeat. Cal must’ve alerted the troupe, he had to of--MC could almost sense it. They’d be okay... right? MC couldn’t shake this continuous feeling of danger beyond just the demons’ apparitions. Please be wrong, intuition, please.

Then it was all happening at once; demons racing towards them, Cal’s pistol firing bullet after bullet.

Only then does MC realize she has one too. One after the other in quick succession, the demons fall, unable to dodge Cal’s practiced aim. For MC, however, it’s not so hard. She fires at two that were flanking the fray, their eyes danger as they inspected Cal and MC. One shot dives through the shoulder of one of them--who howls in pain--while the other barely scrapes his arm. Angered, the demons together pounce to attack but are stopped but Cal’s quick hand, quickly shutting their attempts down with just two measly bullets.

MC’s head was spinning with the adrenaline of it all and she felt like every breath was a waste of time that could’ve been used to fight back harder. Even as Cal sprays down a whole group of demons, more come and replenish their numbers--there seemed to be no end. MC and Cal are herded into a corner as they fight against the waves upon waves of demons. Before they even knew it, they were entirely surrounded without the firepower to lessen those barriers. That swelling grasp of panic catches up to MC and she presses herself close against Cal, rallying in his firm and comforting presence. At least she was with him. She noticed that his pistol clicked when he pulled the trigger, indicating that he had run out of bullets. When was the last time that happened? The demons crowding them had picked a good time to start a fight; they were far off their guard. “Damn, where are they?!” Cal whispers fervently under his breath. He’s talking about the troupe. They said they’d jump to help them the moment Cal and MC were in peril, and yet...

There was no sign of their promised rescue.

Maybe... maybe they were ambushed too. That’s probably what’s taking so long. But the suppressing atmosphere and the constant veil of doom cast around them made that belief give nothing but discomfort. Suddenly, Cal whirls around and his hands frantically grip MC’s shoulders. There’s an edge of panic circulating his eyes; a frothing sea under darkening clouds, troubling winds. She was threatened by the tide of unease he relents, her legs threatening to cave under the pressure; on her arms, MC could sense the subtle shake spreading down to his hands. Somehow, though, the same disorienting emotion-heavy blue that sensitizes her steely confidence is the same blue remedy to lure her in; create a bubble, separate the feasible danger from their gravity. MC was so close to him and the warmth he gave reminded her of a night-in spent curled around a fireplace--warm and comfortable. It almost made her feel silly for being afraid. “MC, listen to me,” Cal declares, the hands clasped on her arms shaking her lightly, “I need your trust in me right now. Do you trust me?”

Although the realms of what he was about to say were endless, MC hadn’t expected something like that.

A simple yet passionate request for trust--trust in Cal. Oddly enough, MC could feel her chest illuminate with the glow of his words, a new layer of warmth added for every syllable. Cal needs me. He needs my trust in him. That thought spins mindless circles in her head, swirling faster and faster until they were permanently ingrained in her brain. A smile climbs up her cheeks; she couldn’t help it. Even now, surrounded by literal demons who’d waste no time at all ripping them apart, MC saw all the ways she fell for him. It was so clear.

Absentmindedly, MC softly speaks. “Always. I love you, so I trust you.”

She hadn’t even meant to say ‘I love you’, but once she did, MC could feel this growing concoction of anxiety and anticipation and embarrassment in her belly. It rose as she watched his eyebrows rise, his lips part, his eyes widen. Cal seemed astounded by her admission but that awe wears off quickly. The trick shooter shakes himself out of it, almost like a dream, and the fingers digging into her arm lose some of their force. They still trembled slightly. “You... that’s good,” he stammers a little, “I trust you too... maybe more than I can say right now, unfortunately. Around all these demons.” Within the next moment, the arms latching onto MC lose their grip and instead, one curls around her waist tight while his other hand pillows the back of MC’s head. MC can barely even react before he’s skillfully ducking around the throng of demons, dashing for something MC can’t quite tell at first. Her chin was perched on his shoulder, allowing her to watch all of the anger that passes over the demons’ faces. “Hold on tight, will you? It’s going to be a bumpy ride.” Cal whispers into her ear. There’s a knowing edge to his tone that has MC bracing for the worst. She clings to him, hard, wondering what he was planning.

Her answer is given through thousands of glass shards falling around her, the deafening noise of shattering windows filling her ears as the gunslinger slams out of the display window.

MC whimpers and clutches him a little tighter. Small bits of glass bounce innocently off her body, falling down on the pavement with a tiny tinkling noise. Her ears rang as Cal continued to move, dashing away from the convenience store with an entire mob of demons following him. Everything moved in a blur and she could feel the wind swimming through her hair. A weird calm settles over, suppressing the trepidation that had plagued her thoughts. That plague was washed away by the memory of her admission and the way Cal sort of... dismissed it. The sentence stuck to her like gum, tacky and unavoidably irking. Thousands of thoughts charge her. Why didn’t he reciprocate her admission? Why be cryptic? Why admit he trusts her, then leave her with nothing to hold onto? Hadn’t the idea that they shared a common ground of trust, a specialized bond of trust and companionship, been clearly shown before?

Lastly, how did he feel about it?

Cal’s reply had been quicker than MC had anticipated. But she was reluctant to admit that they had been ambushed by possibly hundreds of demons. Of course Cal had been hasty to respond; their lives were on the line! He had been so shocked at first, then his touch had become gentler, almost like he felt relief or something similar to that feeling... Am I wrong to think that way? MC didn’t think so but the impeding insecurity she felt made her stance sway slightly. Maybe that reaction meant nothing. Maybe he was just snapping out of his shaken state at her words. Maybe... maybe that declaration of trust was his way of shooting her down without putting a more direct meaning in his words. Maybe that was his way of saying that that’s all he felt; trust in her. Nothing more, nothing less. Just an ally to side with when problems awaken. The idea of that complies a certain composition of saddened disappointment and unconditional happiness. Still embraced in his all-encompassing person, MC’s grip lessens an inch. She could feel the fierce rush of his heart, the slight vibration it gave. For a moment, she wonders what made it race like that--besides danger. What exactly was the mechanism that caused him to feel things that made his heart react?

More specifically, what were the things he held dearest? Who did his heart beat for the most?

Around them, MC notices that his speed has slowed and the herd had been reduced to a few fast-runners; the rest were out of sight. Maybe they’d get away in tact and alive, after all. Her questions have turbid answers that all float in her head, wavering bubbles of interest that popped at the slightest hints of tension. Maybe... Cal just wants to say it back on his own terms. Maybe he’s not at that place yet... maybe his statement of trust was his way of reciprocation. Just like before, the suggestive meaning gave a new glimmer of hope to MC. If her intuition was right and Cal just wasn’t prepared to give his true answer yet, then MC could live with his dismissing. If he wasn’t ready, then MC would be willing to wait. She’d always wait--she’d waited weeks, why not wait a few more in his company?

All the while, as Cal helped dismantle her after they had escaped the demons, MC held onto the response to her ‘I love you’.

It bred a whole new sense of rapture in her chest that was a sun of hope and love and delight. Being patient wasn’t such a hard thing to do for the person you loved.

So what was the harm in being patient for the one you treasure above all else?

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Thank you again for your request! I had so much fun writing with this and I hope you love this as much as I loved writing it! Oh and I’m sorry that it took three whole weeks to get to your request, but I hope the length and quality (eh) can make up for it!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

#cal north

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moviesihaveseenbeforeiamdea-blog · 7 years ago

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#1172 Birdman: Or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

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Released: October 17, 2014

Director: Alejandro G. Iñárritu

Written by: Alejandro G. Iñárritu, Nicolás Giacobone, Alexander Dinelaris Jr., and Armando Bo

Starring: Michael Keaton, Edward Norton, Emma Stone, Zach Galifianakis, Naomi Watts, Andrea Riseborough

Had I Seen it Before? Yes

Why the Oscars are Irrelevant, part 329: For a reason beyond comprehension, the Academy decided that Antonio Sánchez’s iconic drum score for the film was disqualified from contention because it was “diluted” by other musical cues, which they believed lessened the impact. This same academy didn’t feel that the lack of self-awareness disqualified Crash from winning Best Picture.

Birdman is a pretentious film, and that makes me love it all the more so.

From the casting of Michael Keaton and Edward Norton as parodies of themselves to the film’s entire construction mirroring the pretension of Riggan Thomson’s staging of a Raymond Carver adaptation to revive his critical respect, there is nothing about this movie that isn’t self-aware.

This is a movie where Michael Keaton stands on a ledge overlooking the streets of New York City, looking like he’s going to jump, only to have a woman shout out her question if it’s for real or for a film, to which Keaton’s Riggan Thomson replies “A film!” and the woman responds that “you people” are full of shit. This movie is Iñárritu‘s wink at the audience, accompanied by the man screaming at you “I'M WINKING!”

Some people did not appreciate this. Scott Tobias at The Dissolve had a notoriously savage review of not only the film but Iñárritu’s career as a whole (I liked 21 Grams, even if it is self-serious). The review is worth checking out, even if only for giggles. Everyone loves a good hatchet job. (For a more considerate take on the limitations of Birdman and its director’s career, look at James Robert Douglas’s examination for Junkee.)

Michael Keaton as Birdman and Riggan Thomson (Source)

But I don’t agree with Tobias’s analysis, if only because his review seems as self-serious and preposterous as the film and director it supposedly detests. It also feels defensive. As Douglas notes in his review, the conflicts in artistic vision and philosophy in Birdman may be unrefined and lame, but the resolution is so “absurd” that it doesn’t feel like Iñárritu honestly thinks of them as all that meaningful.

I don’t think the Iñárritu s attempting to make a juvenile point about The Meaning of True Art, I think he’s presenting all sides of a boring argument with rudimentary viewpoints before casting it all aside as pointless, because fuck you, I’m Alejandro G. Iñárritu and I’m going to make my movies the way I want.

What tips me off to this interpretation the most is the author whose work Riggan is attempting to adapt for the stage. For anyone who has ever attended a creative writing workshop or majored in English in college, Raymond Carver is an unavoidable, typically insufferable writer who exists---as Emma Stone’s Sam points out---for rich or well-educated white people who really have nothing invested in its point or outcome besides the bullshit cultural validation of knowing they are experiencing the “right kind” of bullshit cultural validation.

Carver’s not a hack writer, but he is overrated and boring. Painfully boring. He is the archetypal “respectable artist” in fiction: obsessed with a self-serious style repeating the same maudlin, mundane themes of mortality, uncertainty, and trauma over and over to death without any awareness of the limitations of his work. In short, everything Iñárritu is accused of in his films.

I’m a sucker for long-takes. I know they’re a little saturated right now and everyone has their opinion on them, but they’re not a flash in the pan. There’s Rope, which I reviewed earlier, there’s the opening of Touch of Evil, a film I have seen and loved but haven’t gotten to yet here, there’s Children of Men, which has several classics in the style, and there are recent examples in television, like True Detective and Game of Thrones. In Birdman, they do what they’re supposed to do, ratcheting up the tension and prolonging the inevitable, dragging scenes out for all they’re worth before letting us off the hook with a minute to breathe. The claustrophobic setting in St. James Theatre also contributes to this, with the characters packed together tightly with little room to collect themselves and separate from each other. Everyone is losing their goddamned minds in this movie, and it’s hilarious.

Riggan and Edward Norton as Mike Shiner (Source)

I’m not sure if the part of Riggan was written specifically with Michael Keaton in mind, I think it has to have been, but I’m not going to bother looking it up because I don’t really care, the fact that it’s him in this role is perfect, and his bitterness towards ushering in the superhero movie industry with his performance as Birdman without reaping the astronomical benefits that the genre would later bring give Riggan a poisonous edge. In his mind, he sees himself as a respectable artist who tried to bring talent into his performance as a pop-cultural icon, something he sees as distinct from Robert Downey Jr. performing in endless Marvel movies as the tiresome and one-dimensional Tony Stark/Iron Man.

There are a few movies given as the example of when the modern superhero movie came to be. Blade is credited with giving Marvel any early success, and both X-Men and Spider-Man are seen as two important milestones, but it’s Burton and Keaton’s Batman has the most credible claim to it for me. And in the cultural conversations around these movies, Keaton doesn’t seem to have much respect afforded to him (and so little a legacy that his casting as Vulture in the newest Spider-Man movie isn’t seen as any sort of breach of the genre canon).

I doubt Keaton has that much resentment for the modern superhero movie, and his relatively unglamorous and restrained output for the better part of two decades seems like a personal choice rather than a career failure. He’s a particular actor who never seemed too much interested in superstardom, but maybe I’m only projecting my conceptions of the guy onto the man himself. Still, he channels what could reasonably be expected to be his real feelings of superhero movies into Riggan well.

Also notable is Edward Norton’s performance as Mike Shiner, a theatre purist and notorious bastard. I’ve heard all sorts of suggestions that Norton is a difficult actor to work with, which would explain why someone with his talent and intensity has been in so few prominent roles over the years. His own foray into superheroism with 2008’s The Incredible Hulk is another superhero touchstone that has gone on mostly unregarded (it was, in fact, the kick-off of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, predating Iron Man by months, but Iron Man is usually given the credit). I’ve never heard any definitive explanation for why Norton didn’t return as Bruce Banner, but I honestly can’t see him fitting into it all how it is now---he’s too niche in his appeal. But that this confluence goes unremarked on in Birdman tells me that maybe that’s a stone best left unturned.

Another facet of the movie that I enjoy to no end is Iñárritu’s preemptive rebuttal to the theatre critics bemoaning his commandeering of the St. James for two months to film the movie. The over-the-top antagonistic theatre critic in the film excoriates Riggan for being a celebrity playing dress-up with the theatre instead of with the superhero costumes where she feels he belongs, reeling with disgust at the idea that an acting nitwit like Riggan would have the balls to piss all over the hallowed ground. She tells him pointedly she’s going to ruin his reputation before even seeing the play.

Riggan’s response is to literally shoot off his nose’s critic-problem to spite his face’s prestige-insecurity problem. And it works, he secures the celebration he wants from yet another audience (again, as Sam points out, one that is equally as vapid and useless as the popcorn-flick audiences). Given the problem of critical respectability feeding off its own unabashed hatred for a director, Iñárritu resolves it by implying that blockbuster or theatre, all audiences want is a little blood.

So there you have it, Birdman in a nutshell. I adore this movie. And yeah, I can admit its humor is petty and vindictive, but it is, in the end, and most importantly, funny. Iñárritu takes heed of his critics’ repeated condemnations of his work and its over-seriousness, whips out his dick, helicopters it while blowing raspberries into the air, and then asks if they’re satisfied now. He followed this movie up by directing The Revenant, another overwrought, super-serious (and some would say joyless) excursion into ridiculous intensity in form and function. I’m not nearly as much a fan of that movie as this one, but all the same, if the aim of Birdman was to give the finger to his critics before embarking on the movie he wanted to make most of all was the price I have to pay for living in a world that has Birdman, so be it.

Final thoughts:

Riggan talking about his body: “I look like a turkey with leukemia.”

The tailor on Mike undressing: “What’s happening? Where are your underpants?”

When Mike Shiner chastises society for looking at life through a phone I was taking a Snapchat of my cat on the entertainment stand swatting Edward Norton’s face

I enjoy the detail of Shiner not being able to get an erection with Lesley in their relationship but having no problem wanting to fuck her in front of a live audience. Birdman pulls no punches when it comes to mocking anyone involved with the production of Riggan’s play.

#movies #birdman #alejandro gonzalez inarritu #michael keaton

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