#And Hoffman being the guy who last saw him. Like she KNEW

[lastnightonthecyclone]

She was so real in saw vi like yes girl get his ugly ass he thought you’d die but he was WRONG

Madison Montgomery would be shaking

this was better than her making cordeilia think she was halllucinating and killing herself like saw 3d had NOTHING on this bitch and neither does Lawrence

[imthejunkietohisjava]

🪽 THE WAS THE DAY THAT WE BOTH DIED

Pairing: Not Applicable! Platonic/Familial Only!

Characters: Mark Hoffman, Angelina Acomb, Fisk, Seth Baxter (Mention Only).

Synopsis: Mark Hoffman loses his only family, Angelina Acomb. An ordinary day turned upside down by the loss of his baby sister. Life flashes before his eyes. An expansion of the death scene from the movies, we deserve the hurt.

Tags: Minor Character Death, Angst, Grief, Brother-Sister Relationship, Older Brother and Younger Sister Dynamic.

Warnings: Death, Implied Domestic Abuse and iolence, Addiction/Abuse/Alcohol Mentions.

Word Count: 1,098 Words

Author Notes: I had been plagued by the Saw bug once again! It’s been a long time comfort media/hyperfixation, and it’s back so expect more Saw fanworks! I'm happy to be writing again. Here's me projecting all my feelings onto Mark Hoffman, we deserved to see more of what happened with Angelina. She was so important to him and we got literal crumbs. I have so many thoughts about them and their dynamic- that's his baby sister/daughter. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to see more Saw content! Happy Sawtober! (P.S. I got my partner into Saw so we’re brain rotting together!)

[CALLER ID: FISK (PARTNER IN CRIME)]

For a moment the phone continued to ring, momentarily ignored by the Detective who was buried in casework. Piles of paperwork were stacked all around him, miles high and unsorted. The looming threat of deadlines never being met always hung overhead, but that was simply another day’s problem. He had too much on his plate at the moment. A eerie silence washed over him when the ring of the phone had finally ceased. Allowing his focus to return to the random thoughts that crossed his mind as he filed the paperwork. Pen scratching away absentmindedly as his focus was lost on his list of things he had to do.

What to make for dinner that evening.

When he’d go to visit Angelina next.

When he needed to do his laundry.

Some things more tedious than others, but visiting Angelina was much higher on his list of properties. It felt like ages since they last met up, though their daily text exchanges hadn’t slowed or stopped. It hardly mattered that she had moved out and was now dating someone. It remained his duty as her older brother to still check in and send reminders.

If he was being at all honest though? Mark hated Seth Baxter. He was exactly the kind of man that he didn’t want Angelina to be involved with. Trouble. Bad news. That man always made his hackles raise, near ready to snap his head from his neck at the first signs of trouble. She always insisted he was a good man, patting at her older brother’s shoulders and brushing off all his concerns.

He had his reasons though, Seth Baxter ran with a particular crowd. A crowd that Mark had spent all his life running from. All of their shared life moving away from. Though they didn’t quite share the same set of parents, different fathers but same mother, the ones that Angelina and Mark ended up with were still their own brand of awful. The two were alcoholic abusive drug addicts, and it took nearly no convincing to have them moved out and on their own. He worked day and night to provide for his sister, even if it aged him by a couple of years. She was his baby sister, and big brothers always took care of their baby sisters. Police Academy so easily came and went, and Angelina was there for every single accomplishment and milestone. The only face in the crowd he cared for, she was all he had. Same as he was all she had. He always had a sinking feeling about Seth, Baxter but he never knew just how right he’d end up being.

[CALLER ID: FISK (PARTNER IN CRIME)]

Startled out of his own daydreaming, his hand swiped a few times across the desk. Attempting to find his phone in the mounds of disorganized clutter that surrounded him. He flipped the screen open quickly, pressing the phone right against his ear.

“Hoffman.”

‘I’ll explain when you get here, but you need to come to Angelina’s.’

The other line went dead before much of anything else could be said or explained. Jacket quickly tossed over broad shoulders, keys clutched tightly in a white knuckled fist. Some sort of horrible and sinking feeling sat in the Detective’s gut, he hoped that he was wrong. He hoped that all this was a mistake.

The drive was quiet, far too quiet, but both hands grasped the edges of the wheel with a tight grip. He had no will to move either to turn the radio on. Mark wasn’t religious but for the first time ever, he silently prayed.

The scene that greeted him was unnerving, and only heightened his unease. Police Cars had swarmed the once peaceful House, an Ambulance parked beside them. Their lights were blinding, but he pushed forward with a quick stride. He practically bullied his way inside, bulky frame leaving little room for an argument, his hand tearing the caution tape down as he stormed past the Officers who surrounded the area. This couldn’t be real. This had to be some fever dream.

Where was Angelina.

Where was she.

Where’s my baby sister.

Before he could think to continue bulldozing his way through, a heavy hand smacked his shoulder. It stopped him dead in his tracks, almost like someone had slammed on their breaks. A reality check. It was Fisk.

‘Mark. I need you to look at me.’

He couldn’t. He can’t. If he did? He knew what was to come next. The painful string of words he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want this to be real. He didn’t want any of this. This couldn’t be the end. Not her. Not this way. His eyes avoided his partner’s gaze, only continuing his march forward. There stood a crowd around the doorway to her bedroom.

Pushing himself between them his eyes fell upon the body they were gawking at. Laid with her arms spread like an angel’s wings was Angelina Acomb. Her once perfect and unblemished neck now sliced open. Blood drying against her paled skin. Her head was hung off the edge of the mattress, mouth in a tight uncomfortable line. Unhappy. These emotions seeped across all her soft features even in death. Discomfort. Fear. In a single moment, his thoughts ran a million miles a minute.

Could I have stopped this?

Could I have saved her?

What was I thinking letting her go?

Where is that sick fucking bastard?

Why wasn’t I there to help her?

Why wasn’t I here sooner?

Mark doesn’t remember when he started to scream. When the tears started to roll down his cheeks. When his shouts of disbelief had nearly deafened the Officers around him. When his cries of Angelina’s name pained those overlooking the crime scene. Several pairs of hands pulled him back, their touch suffocating. He felt like he was being held underwater, an invisible force pulling him into the dark abyss below. The sun would no longer shine down upon him. He had lost his angel.

“LET ME GO! SHE NEEDS ME. ANGELINA!

LET ME SEE HER! MY SISTER NEEDS ME!”

Their words were muddled, falling upon grief stricken ears. No encouragement, no sorry, no sympathy, none of it could heal the now open wounds. Tragedy oozed over him like a sticky sap. Entangling him in a web of grief. This had to be some cruel and sick joke. She couldn’t be gone. She was all he had, and now she really was gone. Mark Hoffman’s angel had lost her wings…

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 4

[ girl help i can't stop writing this ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

He woke up to someone pounding on the door, which only successfully left a pounding in his head, therefore setting him up to be a little bitch for the rest of the day.

Since he was off on weekends, he usually spent them working on traps, or helping facilitate traps for John. Today was Sunday, which meant he needed to spend the whole day working on the furnace, or it wouldn’t be finished in time, which is probably why someone was banging on his door.

That realization didn’t make him any less pissed.

After a moment of fumbling around blindly without opening his eyes, he grabbed something solid and flung it vaguely at the door. He heard it hit the metal door with a thunk, followed by someone cursing in surprise. Amanda. Of course.

“Sorry ‘Manda!” he tiredly yelled at the door, having expected it to be John or Hoffman. Amanda never woke him up because she never had the courage to- not that he would scare her on purpose.

“I’m gonna get you back one day,” Amanda replied, giving the door one last bang before retreating back to her work.

It took a good few minutes, but Garrett finally rolled directly out of bed, hitting the concrete floor with a groan. After yet another few minutes, he properly got up, finally taking that shower he didn’t have the energy for last night before getting dressed.

Logically he should wear things that would be good to weld in but he was gay, and dressed like it. So he simply pulled up the sleeves on his cropped sweater and prayed to whatever god that would listen that his exposed midriff would not get burned.

He emerged from his room only to retrieve his goggles- which he hadn’t meant to leave out on one of the public tables- before retreating back to his personal workshop.

The furnace was so close to done, really just needing some closed up gaps and other various touch ups, plus he needed to make sure the trigger for the flames worked. He could finish that in a day if he started early enough, so he dove into it.

A few times he could hear the door open and close, either Amanda or Nar coming in to make sure he wasn’t secretly dead or injured. Occasionally they brought him a glass of water too, or tried to have a conversation. They only sometimes got a response.

“How long have you been working?” Narcissus asked, setting a new glass of water on the desk next to where Garrett was sitting. “Have you taken a break in the last hour? You know you can’t work non-stop without a break.”

Garrett knew he wasn’t just going to leave without getting a response this time, so he leaned back from his work and pulled his goggles down so they hung around his neck. “I need to get this done,” he said, gesturing to the furnace, “the game is starting next week. This is like, a huge part. Everyone’s counting on me.”

“Please get therapy for that,” Nar replied, surprising Garrett enough that he let out a sharp laugh, quickly turning away to hide his grin. “Don’t launch into a spiel about how this IS therapy, I get enough of that from Amanda. But seriously, you need to take breaks. If you work yourself to death, you won’t be of use to anybody, least of all John.”

He, unfortunately, had a point. Garrett didn’t like accepting defeat, but he could at least get something to eat. “Alright, fine, but if this is some kind of ploy to get me to interact with people, I’ll lose it.”

Nar chuckled at that, patting Garrett on the shoulder as he headed over to the door. With a sigh, Garrett stood up and followed, making a beeline for where they kept snacks for while they were working. Now that he realized he hadn’t eaten all day, he felt like he was dying.

“So he lives,” Hoffman spoke up, scaring the shit out of Garrett, who hadn’t seen him in his rush to get something to eat. “We were beginning to worry you had gotten hurt in there and were just too prideful to ask for help.”

“I think out of everyone here, I’m the least likely to just die for the sake of my ego,” Garrett retorted, grabbing a mysterious muffin he didn’t know the origin of to be his very late breakfast. Or would it be lunch at this point?

He took a bite into the muffin, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn’t die instantly.

Amanda was known for baking stuff for the apprentices, but she wasn’t very good at it if it wasn’t strawberry shortcake specifically or donuts. Since the muffin wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever bitten into, his second guess was that Nar baked them instead. He tended to be able to bake without accidentally introducing poison to the ingredients list.

“Don’t you have a real job to be at?” Garrett asked, leaning back against the table Hoffman was seated in front of, standing next to him, like an idiot. “You know, pretending to be on the good guy’s side, throwin’ off the trail…”

Hoffman just looked at him like he was insane. “You do realize that detectives don’t spend most of their time in the precinct, right? No one is going to question why I’m not there. They’ll just call me in if they need me.”

Can’t imagine having a job like that. “Right, right. Have y’all ‘found’ Cara’s body yet? I wanna watch when you do.” Through the cameras, of course. Garrett found it amusing to be right next to a police investigation and, since he covered the ‘on’ light on cameras he used, they never knew he was there.

“What?” Hoffman asked after a moment of bewildered silence, and Garrett vaguely recognized what he said was weird but simply stared back at the detective.

“I said I want to watch. It’s fun watching cops scramble around for an answer, like they did when they discovered my game. One of them threw up when they realized it was teeth marks in that bastard’s throat. So, let me know when you ‘find’ the body.”

Garrett looked away, returning to his muffin, leaving Hoffman to process the fact that he DESPERATELY needed real therapy.

He went to continue the conversation, maybe to learn WHY Garrett was so weird about watching the investigation, but his phone cut him off. “Hoffman,” he greeted when he answered, immediately catching Garrett’s attention. “Right,” he continued after a moment, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled out a notepad and a pen.

After a few “uh-huh”s and “got it”s, Hoffman had an address scribbled down- one Garrett immediately recognized as where his game had taken place. “Speak of the devil…” he muttered, gaining a somewhat concerned look from the detective.

“I’ll be there soon,” Hoffman said into the phone, grabbing it from his shoulder and flipping it shut. “I assume I’ll be meeting you there,” he told Garrett, before standing up and heading out. Garrett watched him leave, just like he did last night, except this time he wasn’t out of the door before Garrett was following.

---

Garrett actually ended up getting a ride from Hoffman, which was undoubtedly awkward.

They hadn’t been in this confined of a space together yet, and Garrett was making it a point to not look at Hoffman, which in turn just made Hoffman nervous because usually that means someone is about to lash out.

It was not a pleasant trip.

Garrett practically lunged out of the car when they arrived, moving much faster than Hoffman thought he could in order to avoid detection by the police. The last thing he saw was Hoffman getting out to greet another cop before he was sneaking into the building through one of the windows.

The building had two floors- the room he used for the game was on the bottom floor, and the room he had the monitoring equipment set up in was on the top floor. The building was easy to scale, which is why Garrett had no problem getting up there. He wasn’t worried about being found either, because he blocked off the door to the room when he left after the game.

He would take every possible precaution under the sun not to be found if it meant he got to watch the chaos he created unfold.

Garrett dropped to the floor from the window as quietly as possible, avoiding any chance of the floor creaking as he made his way over to the single monitor set up for the game. He clicked it on, and settled down in the chair in front of it.

The camera came to life almost immediately, and he grinned at the sight of the crime scene.

They’d moved Cara out of the iron maiden, which was a little disappointing but understandable, since they needed to inspect her body.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, having turned off the sound just to be safe. If he knew any more about this investigation than what he could see and slipped up… he just knew he couldn’t let that happen.

So he settled for silence, instead reading their lips as best as he could.

At some point, they’d closed the box, though he wasn’t sure why. Did they put the key back in there? Were they using it to store the tape recorder, which was nowhere to be found despite Garrett leaving it right where Cara had dropped it?

It was odd, and Garrett didn’t like not knowing why they had done it. He would ask Hoffman later.

Speaking of the detective, Hoffman looked very… in his element here, in the middle of a crime scene. He looked confident and sure of himself, which Garrett didn’t see much back at the Jigsaw base. Maybe it was because they didn’t talk often, or Hoffman just still wasn’t sure about this whole apprentice thing. Either way, he was very attractive when he knew what he was doing.

Garrett also noted that Hoffman didn’t struggle even a little bit to pretend he had no idea who had done this, or deciding he simply didn’t see the difference between a normal Jigsaw game and this one. Part of him wondered if he was playing along because he knew Garrett was watching, but a larger part of him appreciated that he was such a good actor.

John had told him about Hoffman’s copycat killing- the pendulum trap built for his sister’s killer- so he wasn’t totally surprised that this came naturally to him. Still, it was nice to know he wasn’t going to slip up and get them all caught.

They were looking at the iron maiden now, and Garrett tensed up without noticing it. He didn’t want to leave it behind when the game was over, but he had to, so the body could be found the exact way she died. And he’d worn gloves while setting it up and building, but seeing people inspecting it made him nervous, and he started fidgeting.

It started with just a bounce of his leg, but the longer they looked, the more nervous he got. By the time they finally moved away, he had bitten hard enough into his hand to draw blood.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, running his tongue over the wound so the blood didn’t start dripping. They were wrapping up the investigation now, since he hadn’t really left many clues for them- they already had Detective Hoffman and Detective Mathers was already warned about his upcoming game.

He watched them leave the room and shut off the camera once it was empty, listening through the window for the retreat of the cars. When he was sure no one was left, he climbed out the window and back down the building.

Admittedly, he was a little surprised to find Hoffman still there, leaning against the side of the car and waiting for him. It made him smile, and he realized that being grateful for small shit like this wasn’t helping his case to not get attached.

“Better drive fast, detective, I’ve got a furnace to finish.”

[operationcavill]

Untangled - Part 6

He parks the car outside of her apartment and sighs heavily, “Let’s talk upstairs,” He walks around the front of the car to open her door, looking around with a scowl on his face. Neither of then say a word until they reach the elevator.

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

B/N - Brothers Name

B/F/N - Best Friends Name

Y/N turns her shower on and really looks at herself in the mirror for the first time in hours, “You just got laid, bitch.” By Henry Cavill no less, but what does that even mean? Was he actually that into her? He seems to be but he is an actor. He asked her to lunch, though. And technically, for another date. Did last night actually happen? The hot water feels renewing, refreshing. Should she tell B/F/N? Hell, she wouldn’t even have told her S/N if she hadn’t walk in on them. She can only imagine what was going through her sisters head. Who wouldn’t go nuts if they saw a practically nude man like that? Stepping out, she grabs her phone and decides to text B/F/N.

Y/N: I have something to tell you.

B/F/N: Please do not scare me.

Y/N: It’s nothing bad. I slept with someone last night!

B/F/N: OMG WHO

Y/N: That’s the part I’m having trouble with

B/F/N: What

B/F/N: Jesus Christ, you didn’t sleep with [Your Ex] did you??

Y/N: Bitch. No.

B/F/N: Why are you being so weird then?

Y/N: Because he’s kinda like famous.

B/F/N: Excuse me??

Y/N: You CAN NOT tell anyone ok?

B/F/N: Lmao did you sleep with a superhero or something? What’s with the secret??

Y/N: Funny you should say that 🙃

B/F/N: Ummmm what

Y/N: I may or may not have slept with the guy who plays superman.

B/F/N: Stop it.

Y/N: I did.

B/F/N: Seriously?

Y/N: We’re going to lunch in a little bit.

B/F/N: I’m fucking dying right now.

Y/N: How do you think I feel!?

B/F/N: You gonna give up the deets?

Y/N: I will later. I need to get ready.

B/F/N: bitch 😒

Y/N: You love it 💕

B/F/N: You know waiting on this is gonna kill me

Y/N: I’ll get text you soon!

Henry has a large smile on his face when Y/N arrives, “Hello there,” they share a quick cheek kiss before sitting at a cozy table by the window. They make small talk and Henry takes a picture with a little girl who said that wonder woman was her favorite but he’s second. He was sweet and gentle, he asked for her name and if she’s excited for halloween. He told her to try not to eat too many sweeties, which is much cuter than saying, ‘candy’.

“You’re somethin’ else,” She’s sure her face is going to get stuff in a permanent smile.

His face slightly twists, “Why? What’d I do?”

“You’re kind. You were so sweet to her.” She can practically feel the tug on her ovaries.

The waiter arrives to take their order. He was visibly starstruck and tripped over his words, “It’s so cool that you’re on a date with Geralt!”

She amuses him. “I know. Although, I think I prefer the grey hair.” Once they all have a laugh, the waiter trots off to the kitchen.

“Are you a nerd, Y/N?”

She attempts to be serious, “I’ll show you my Fifth Element miniatures later. How was your little trip?”

He bites his lip, “So, I got some news while back at the hotel,”

“Oh yeah? Anything scandalous?”

He nervously laughs, “I wish. I, uh,  have to go back home for a week to do press.”

“Are you excited to go home for a bit?”

“Yes, and No,” he pushes a fork around and focuses on it, “I love going home, and I like working.”

She senses that there’s something else, “But?”

Henry continues, “But I’ve met a girl in a bar and I wasn’t finished getting to know her,” he wonders how many times he can make her blush, he’s sure it’s never enough.

“Wanna make a deal, Cavill?”

He perks up his eyebrow, “What you offering, Y/L/N?”

“How about, you let me know when you get back and I let you know where to find me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “Deal.”

The waiter brings their sandwiches and they enjoy their meal while poking each others legs under the table like children. In this moment, he completely forgets who he is. Right now, he’s just Henry. He’s Henry who likes to eat sandwiches with cute woman and talk about his dog and the show he’s been trying to watch for months. He feels good.

Y/N almost chokes on her food laughing at story concerning an unfortunate tongue biting accident that occurred during his first kiss, “What did you do?”

“I jumped and kind of yelled in pain, and I think she cried. She never looked at me again.”

“I’m happy to report my first kiss was not as tragic,” he asks her to go on and she grins, “I was about 14 and there was a boy who would visit his grandma a few times during the summer. I had known him forever, his grandma lived across the street so we’d play together. One day, we were playing spotlight with a bunch of the neighborhood kids and he just kissed me. Kissed me right there beside Mr. Hoffmans car.”

“That’s very cute,” he could get a stomach ache with how sweet she was.

“It was,” She takes a sip of her water, “I have no idea what happened to him, either.”

Henry watches her, a habit he doesn’t plan on breaking, “You wanna go for a walk?”

“If you buy be coffee first,” Y/N and her addiction to warm drinks is what makes this her favorite time of year.

“You got it.” After some deliberation, Henry finally convinces Y/N that he’s paying for her food, and coffee, too.

They begin their stroll around the chilly city, stealing small looks at one another, “So, When do you leave?”

He sighs, “Tomorrow evening,”

“That sounds like an awful time for a flight,” Y/N’s head gravitates towards his shoulder.

“I’m a little used to it now. Leave late on the east coast, arrive in the morning in the UK,”

“Don’t you get tired?” She asks him so genuinely, with so much concern.

“I’m always tired,” Henry gives her a soft chuckle.

Y/N searches his face, “You seem to sleep pretty good to me,”

“There’s an exception, Darling,” Henry can’t help but feel a little bashful.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you, it was nice and your blankets are so soft.”

She giggles and leans into him again for a short side hug, “You’re a cliche that I have no problem with,”

“I am not,” He flicks her nose.

“Wha—!” She flicks his in return, “How very dare you?”

He kisses the tip of her nose and apologizes, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky you got me coffee,” She pants jokingly after taking a large sip.

“You’re quite the caffeine addict. Late night tea, 16 ounce coffees,”

“What can I say? I’m a starving artist, it was either cigarettes or giant cups of piping hot coffee, I chose the coffee,” she pulls on the collar of his shirt and he’s tempted to kiss her again, but if he kisses her now, he doesn’t know if he can find the will to stop. There’s just something about her.

They decide to circle back around and Y/N pulls out her phone to get a ride, “I’ll take you home, why didn’t you drive today?”

She looks slightly embarrassed, “Oh, my tail light went out the other night and the garage won’t take it until Friday. They ticket you for everything up here, so I didn’t wanna risk it.”

Henry escorts her to the car, politely opening and closing her door. Just a few minutes into the drive Y/N’s phone goes off, “Oh god, it’s my mom.”

He turns the radio down and whispers, “I won’t make peep.”

She answers the phone as if she’s alone and not with a world famous actor, “Hey, mama,”

“Is there something you need to tell me?” There’s no way her sister would have told her anything, even if she threatened to do so. Y/N is taking too long and her mother repeats herself.

“No? What do you mean?” She notices Henry look at her and then look back at the road.

Her mother sighs “The boy who cuts our grass showed me a picture of you with a certain someone.”

“A picture?” If they weren’t already at a stop light, Henry thinks he might have slammed on the breaks.

“Y/N, theres a bunch! He’s kissing your nose and rubbing your leg while you eat a sandwich. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone? And HIM?”

“I’m not,” she collapses onto her couch, “I just met him.”

“Are you lying?” Mothers always know.

The light turns green but he’s still looking at her, as if he’s trying to hear the conversation, “No, mother,” She mouths to him, ‘it’s green,”

But accidentally lets out a, “Oh, sorry, Darling.”

Her mother gasps in disbelief, “You slept with him!”

Her eyes practically fly out of her skull, “What! How—no I did not!”

“He called you ‘Darling’. That’s some sweet talk, I don’t think this is a good idea. You always say you like your privacy.” Her mother always knew what her girls were really up to. Mothers always know.

“I know, ma, but you’re reading way too much into this,” She exhales, “can we talk about this later?”

And just like all mothers, she refuses to let up,“No, how did you even meet him?”

“We were at Benny’s and he was there.”

“Out of all the bars,” She just knows her mom is rolling her eyes.

“He’s kind, fun to talk to.” Henry actually blushes and can’t contain his smile.

“I googled him.” Oh, of course, “He’s 10 years older than you.”

“You’re older than dad.” He tenses, he’s a little familiar with this, and he understands, but Y/N was very grown and very independent. He liked her for her, not her age. Ok, so her being attractive was a plus, but he had no intention of ‘playing’ her.

“I’m one year older than your father, thank you.”

“I’m very aware of my age,” She hated this. It didn’t matter how old Y/N was, she was the baby, the little one, the one protected one in her family.

“Honey, I’m serious.” Mothers.

She knows her mother means well, but can’t a girl live? “Why are y’all so worked up over this? I—,”

“Who’s y’all?”, Y/N spilled the beans, “You said you just met.”

“S/N met him that night I did,” and saw him practically naked the next morning, “and B/I/L...and John.”

“Well, now the whole world knows you’re sleeping with him.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” He snaps her a look and she gives on in return as a warning to him, he better not make a sound.

“Are you being safe?”

“Oh my god! Yes, I’m being safe!” Henry has to stifle his laughter by covering his mouth.

“Ah-Ha, you are sleeping with him,” Great.

Y/N throws her head back on the headrest, “Jesus, ya’ll are being really intrusive. You know that, right?”

“I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“And I’m fine, Mama.” He finds it endearing that they call her ‘Mama’. It’s sweet and brings out her accent. “Can I call you later?”

She stalls, “I guess, but I’m not done talking about this. It’s not every day your daughter get’s involved with a warlock,”

“It’s a Witcher, Ma, not a warlock.” Henry can’t keep his laugh in this time, causing Y/N to slap his arm.

He clears his throat, “Sorry,”

She can feel her mothers glare through the phone, “I’ll talk to you later, ok? I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye,” She turn towards him, “Well, we’ve been had.”

“I’m so sorry.” He looks all too apologetic, “I wasn’t thinking about it. I’m sorry.”

While she is nervous, she knows it’s not his fault, “Don’t be sorry. I still had a good date with you, Her phone buzzes for was seems like a dozen times in a row, “Oh,”

Henry’s mood has completely shifted. He already felt as if his feelings for her were escalating too quickly, and now this? It had only been a couple of days, “Don’t look at them.”

She scrunches her nose, “Huh?”

He parks the car outside of her apartment and sighs heavily, “Let’s talk upstairs,” He walks around the front of the car to open her door, looking around with a scowl on his face. Neither of then say a word until they reach the elevator.

She clicks her tongue a few times in hopes that he breaks the silence first, he doesn’t and she finally speaks up, “What did you mean don’t look at them?”

He waits until the doors open to her floor, “Don’t look at those things they tag you in. Some people are cruel for no reason.”

Henry can tell she’s nervous and getting a bit worked up. She’s struggling with the keys and can’t get the door unlocked. She gets so frustrated that she lets out an all too loud, “Fuck!” Her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Timmons, opens her door to see what causes the ruckus, “Sorry, Mrs. Timmons.” The woman disappears back into her apartment with a huff.

Y/N tries to open the door again and flings it open, closing it and leaning against it after it’s closed, “I’m so sorry for today.” He truly looks sorrowful and guilty.

“It’s not your fault,” She takes her coat off, then her shoes, and plops down on the couch, “I’m just—overwhelmed, I think.”

“You don’t deserve to be spied on like that,” He sits beside her and rests his elbows on his knees, “have you picture taken without you knowing.”

She scoffs, “You don’t either. Just ‘cause you're in movies doesn’t mean you should have to get you privacy violated.” She takes the hair tie from her wrist and begins to braid her hair, “I can’t believe I told my mom I slept with you.”

He laughs, “Am I really that bad?”

She falls to the side, groaning as she face plants the cushion, “No, I just don’t talk about those things with her. I mean, not really.”

“I can barely hear you,” He pokes her head and she sits back up.

“Do you tell your mom who you mess around with?”

“I can’t say that I do,”

“I need to turn off the notifications. That noise is going to drive me crazy.”

“You don’t have to but maybe making stuff private would help,”

“It’s all private already, these are like, people I don’t even really talk to or I haven’t talked to for years. Stupid Facebook.” She tosses her phone onto a chair and looks at Henry, who still has a solemn gaze, “I’m pretty good at covering my tracks, you know? I don’t use twitter, my instagram is private. Whatever this is, all of that stuff isn’t gonna get in the way.”

He shrugs, “I understand if you don’t want to deal with it,”

“It’s not exactly normal, is it?”

“No,” His tone has changed. It’s no longer chipper, just melancholy.

“Do you still want to see each other when you come back?”

“If you let me,”

She kisses his cheek quickly, “I wouldn’t have asked,”

“I do like you. Last night was just a huge bonus,” He hisses, “That sounded kind of gross,”

“I know what you meant,” She gives him a light and comforting smile.

“I have to ask; Are you pissed?”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, “Just unprepared, I guess.”

“Yeah, you can’t really prepare yourself for your mum to ask who you’re sleeping with,”

“I’m sorry my family is,” she pauses, “dramatic.”

“They’re not,” He admires a strong family bonds, he strives to create one of his own one of these days.

“Henry, it sounds like my sister wants to punch you and my mom freaked out, too.”

“Any chance I can get in good with your dad?” She gives him a blank stare, “I’m only joking.”

“B/F/N is gonna shit a brick.”

“And B/F/N is?”

“She’s my best friend. She’s practically our sister,” she remembers their text conversation, “oh, god, my mom probably called her.”

He chuckles, “You’ve got quite the circle.”

“I know, I’m sorry. They’re just protective and, yeah.” She’s tried not to show her embarrassment but it’s written in her body language.

“It’s not a big deal, I understand. It’s a tricky situation,” Tricky, indeed, but if anything this just made Henry want to further prove himself.

Y/N’s phone begins to ring and she excuses herself, “Sorry, I have to answer this one.”

Henry simply nods, interlacing his fingers and relaxing into the couch. He watches her walk around a small room, her hands up in the air and at times, writing things down. He leans to the side to get a better look. He doesn’t mean to be nosy but something catches his eye, its a painting. He can only see part of it but he already loves it. Some colors blend and others are blocked together, there’s lines and shapes. If she lets him, he’d love to explore more.

She reappears and gets back to her spot on the couch, “That looks like a fun room,”

“It’s where I paint,” She fiddles with her pant leg, “I have a show coming up,”

“Oh, yeah? Where?” She’s taken aback by his enthusiasm.

“It’s called Desmond’s,” She grins so widely that Henry notices a small dimple beside her mouth, “it's my second show there.”

“That’s amazing,”

“Thank you,” The shyness that overcomes her when she talks about her work, it’s akin to enchantment.

“Will you show me your work one of these days?” Henry looks as if he’s glowing at the possible opportunity.

“Hmm,” She taps her chin, faking thought, ”maybe.”

“I’ll take a maybe.” He’s more than glad for the maybe.

“I don’t think any of these are yours,” He waves his finger around happily.

“Hmm,” He’s correct, these are gifts or purchased from other artists, “I wanna see if you can spot them.”

He points toward her studio, “And I can’t look in there?”

Y/N shakes her head, “No, that doesn’t count.”

“I just want to see what you got in there. I know where I can spot one.”

She wants to call his bluff, “You do, do you?”

“At the bar,” He states it so matter of factly, “there’s a really cool mural on the back wall where the tables are.”

He figured it out too quick, “How did you know that was me?”

“It looks like you,” He shrugs, as if that’s not a completely sweet thing to say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it has the best colors. Your colors.” Wow.

“Stop that.” He looks away and looks back to her, confused as to what he did, “You cannot be so cute when you’re so, I don’t know, that.” She wiggles her fingers at him and he get’s all too playful again.

Henry knows he’s good looking but it’s funny how she doesn’t even attempt to hide how it affects her, “And what’s that?” He refuses to break eye contact. If she likes how he looks, then he’s gonna make her look at him. She looks away and he catches her cheek in his hand, slowly turning it back to him, “Hmm?”

This is another one of his unfair games. She knows what he’s doing, and he knows she knows. His thumb traces her mouth and she bits the tip of it, but he doesn’t flinch. His hand travels down to her throat, feeling her breathe, “You know what you are.” He smiles in a way that could make her collapse if she wasn’t already on the couch. “Charming,” He leans forward and pulls her closer by her throat. An act so suggestive, yet gentle, “Handsome,” He signals her to come closer by pulling again, this time she’s brushing her lips against his chin, “Magnetic.”

He holds her there, so close but not close enough. His eyes look down into hers, only inches away but enough to make her feel small, but safe. She feels slightly dominated by it, and she likes it. “Such a pretty girl,” he can feel her swallow, letting him know her mouth has ben watering for him, “my girl”. He kisses her forehead and lets her go but stands up, “I’ll let you know when my flight gets in, Sweetheart.” He walks to the door with a smirk, knowing what he’s just done.

Y/N’s mouth is left agape, even after the door closes behind him, “Motherfucker.”

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

@igotkatiepowers  @xxxkatxo  @lunedelorient  @heartfelt-pen​ @omgkatinka​ @viking-raider​ @summersing69 @hell1129-blog

i had so much fun writing this! I left it a bit open ended in case I felt like coming back to it

[arrow-guy]

Broken Flock (10/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Okay, so this is mostly fluff, thank goodness. And, finally, some answers about who took her. Nothing canon, but definitely fun to mess with. Anyway, please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of experimentation, brief description of injury

Part 9

“Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but when can I go home?” I ask.

"We want to make sure you're healed enough to be on your own," Steve says. Bucky gives him a very pointed look and he clears his throat. "But I think you should be cleared before the end of the week."

I nod. "Okay."

"You're not going to argue on that?"

I shrug and shake my head. "No. I don't really see any point in doing so. I’m hurt, you’re telling me that I need time to heal. Seems pretty straight forward.”

"I see."

"Was there anything else?" I ask.

“It can wait till you’re feeling better.”

“No, Steve, I’m fine now.” He frowns and I tilt my head to the side. “What is it?”

“What connection do you have to Dr. Danielle Hoffman?”

“I don’t… is she the woman from the barn?” He nods. “Right. I only knew her as the Doctor. No one used real names and I didn’t bother asking for any, but that doesn’t matter. Dr. Hoffman is the reason that I have wings.”

Clint appears beside the bed. “Wait, you fell into her vat of toxic waste?”

“From what she said, yeah, I think so.” I reach over my shoulder and scratch at my left wing. “There were others like me at one point, but I think they’re dead. She probably found them long before me, partially because I wasn’t supposed to exist.”

“How so?”

“I fell into a vat of whatever was leftover from her initial experiments, I think. That’s how I got my wings. She didn’t have an answer when her lackey asked when I was made.” He opened his mouth, but closed it immediately. “What?”

“What’d she do to you? And why?”

“Steve,” Bucky warns. “That’s enough,”

“It’s fine, Buck, I’d rather talk about it than keep it bottled up. Besides,” I reach out and he grabs my hand. “Considering I’m not dead, I probably got off easy. The rest weren’t so lucky.”

“Okay.” He sits beside me on the bed and envelopes my hand in both of his. “You can stop any time.”

“I know,” I murmur. He kisses the side of my head and I smile. Steve clears his throat and I cough awkwardly. “Anyway… the Doctor was incredibly clinical about everything right up until the last few days, but I think she freaked out after a couple guards saw Clint and Bucky lurking around. That was about when they belted down my wings and started actually leaving marks when they hit me. Partially my fault, if I’m being honest.”

“None of that was your fault, (Y/N).”

I nod. “Mm, yeah, except when I punched a guard in the eye and then intentionally egged them on.”

“Why would you do that?!”

“I don’t know! I was tired of being manhandled and jabbed with needles and dragged hither and yon at every hour of the day. When they were told to hit me, something took over and I told them to not puss out.” I laugh before realizing how morbid it sounds. “Stupid as it is, this really isn’t the worst I’ve been hurt. They didn’t really try all that hard when they came at me.”

“That’s still not okay,” Steve says.

“No, I know that. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but they hadn’t gotten a single reaction out of me that they wanted since the first day. Their bark was entirely bigger than their bite.” I lean against Bucky and he sighs. “But in that moment, I realized that you’d found me. It was just a matter of time until you got me out of there.”

“Didn’t figure you’d be in Michigan,” Bucky mutters.

I rub my hand up and down his arm. “Still.”

“Was there anything else you learned about Hoffman?” Steve asks.

“No. I was unconscious during most of the tests. She didn’t want me moving around while she worked. Why?”

Steve shakes his head. “Everything we’ve been able to dig up on her leads back to A.I.M., but after that it’s a dead end.”

“Well that would make sense. A.I.M. focussed on genetics for a long time, right? Aldrich Killian weaponized it, but I doubt he was the first one in the agency to do so.”

“You’re right, but Hoffman hasn’t been associated with A.I.M. for almost twenty years.”

“Even better for her, right? If she’s not under their roof, no one can hover while she experiments on, and inevitably mutilate and kill, live, human specimens. Being out on her own was probably the best thing that happened to her.”

“That… that makes a lot of sense.”

“She probably dragged a bunch of disgraced A.I.M. grunts along with her when she left.”

“She did, actually. There were a handful of private contractors in her crew, but just about everyone has ties to A.I.M..”

“What about that wiry, ratty-looking guy?”

“We’re still looking into him. We don’t have an ID yet, but we do know he was weirdly strong.”

“What if he’s one of her experiments?” I ask. “He seemed to be really close to her, not in the way that an evil boss and henchman are close.”

Steve nods. “You’re probably right, I’ll make a note of that.”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly very tired, I lean heavily against Bucky. I shiver and he wraps his arm around my middle.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod and mumble, “Just really, really tired.”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave and promises to get back to me with any new information he has before I’m released. I thank him and he quickly disappears out into the hall. Only when the doors close does Bucky help me lay down. He lays beside me and Clint drags a chair up to the side of the bed. He pouts and complains about the hospital bed being too small.

I laugh. “It’s stupid uncomfortable, Clint, You don’t wanna be up here anyway.”

“No, I really think I do,” he counters. “Bucky’s been hogging you since we got you back. I’m just waiting my turn.”

“Aw,” I poke Bucky’s stomach and he grabs my hand. “You couldn’t let him cuddle with me for a little bit?”

Bucky shrugs. “The bed’s uncomfortable. He’d hate it.”

“We could probably move to one of our rooms, if we wanted,” Clint suggests. “The beds would be more than big enough for the three of us.”

“Wouldn’t we get in trouble?” I ask, looking between Clint and Bucky.

Bucky glances over his shoulder at Clint, who gives him a pleading look. “I’m sure it’d be fine. We just have to be careful with you and keep an eye on your injuries.”

I nod. "Okay, let's do it, then."

I look up in time to see a grin flash across Clint's face before he can tamp down his excitement. He takes his time moving his chair back to the edge of the room and fiddling with something on the couch. Bucky helps me sit up, but refuses to let me walk to the room. Instead, he loops my arms around his neck and picks me up. He wraps my arms around his waist and signals to Clint that we’re ready to go.

"You got her bag?" Bucky asks.

"Of course I do."

"My bag?"

"I drove back into the city after we got you back and packed up some things I thought you might need," Clint explains. "Just some clothes and your tooth brush, but you can't wear a hospital gown the rest of your life."

"Thanks, Clint." I reach out and he takes my hand. "I really appreciate that."

He smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Thought you might.”

Bucky’s room is closest and he uses me to lead Clint down the hallway, gently pulling him along by our linked hands. The three of us bundle through the doorway and Clint drops my bag in the chair next to the dresser. Bucky allows me to stand on my own and I move to sift through the bag on the chair.

I find a pair of soft leggings and immediately put them on in place of the thin boxers I was provided. I pull one of my shirts from the bag and stare at it, knowing full well that I won’t be able to wear it. It’s too tight and would rub against my still too sensitive skin. I sigh and let it fall back into the bag.

Clint places a gentle hand on my waist and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t wear my shirts. They’re too tight to get on with my injuries.”

“That’s not a problem,” Bucky says.

He pulls one of his shirts from his dresser and cuts two slits down the back from neck to hem. Clint helps me out of the hospital gown and I readjust the straps of my sports-bra before taking the altered shirt from Bucky. I yank the neck over my head and slowly slip my hands through the arms.

“Where’d you get this?” I ask. “It’s huge.”

Bucky shrugs. “Big shirts are more comfortable to sleep in.” He lifts the middle flap from my right wing, positions it between my shoulder blades, and ties the slits off at the hem. “Is that comfortable?”

I shake out my wings and nod. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

I crawl into the unmade bed and lay on my left side. With one eye closed and the other slightly cracked, I watch Bucky change into a pair of sweats. Clint simply strips off his jeans and climbs onto the bed with me. He pulls me to his chest and pulls the covers up to my chin. Bucky slides in beside me and places his hand on my back. Clint rolls us slightly so that Bucky can press closer without crushing my wings. Clint’s hand presses between my wings while Bucky’s arm snakes around my middle. His hand splays out over my stomach and his warmth practically seeps into my skin.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bucky asks.

I nod. “I’m just sore now, for the most part.”

“Tell us where it hurts?”

“Pretty much everything from the waist up,” I say. “I think my arms got overextended when they chained me up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clint murmurs.

“Sometimes it still feels like my wings are strapped down.” I sigh and scrub one hand over my face. “It’s hard to sleep when you guys aren’t there.”

Their arms tighten around me, but neither of them speak. With Clint and Bucky tangled around me, I feel so safe and secure that I can finally just relax. The silence that blankets the room is soothing instead of stifling. There’s no urge to explain away the pain or make excuses.

Bucky kisses the back of my neck and I cover his hand with mine. My body grows heavy and I slowly drift off to sleep.

The door slams open startling the three of us awake. I grip Bucky’s hand and both Clint and Bucky’s arms tighten around me.

“Bucky, she’s gone.”

It’s Steve.

“The hell are you talking about, Rogers?” I manage to say.

“But you-”

“Medbay is cold and silent. It’s easier to sleep here, with them.”

“We’ve got new intel, he says, breezing past what I just said.

“Okay?” I try to bury my head in the pillows. “It can wait till tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Go away, Steve,” Bucky says. “She needs her rest.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Clint muffles his snicker against the pillow. “Go away. She’ll find you tomorrow.”

Steve sighs. “Fine.”

He retreats and the door closes.

Bucky sighs and grumbles something about “getting out of here asap.”

“Steve said I’d be cleared before the end of the week,” I mumble. “I’ll bother him about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is twelve hours away,” Clint says.

“No,” I poke his stomach and he laughs. “Tomorrow is whenever I can haul myself out of bed, and there’s no telling when that’ll be.”

“Mm, you’re hilarious,” he says dryly.

“It’s why you keep me around, right?”

Bucky snorts. “Go to sleep.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You know that’s not why we keep you around.”

“But it’s one reason?”

“It’s a bonus.”

“Hmm,” I trace my thumb over Bucky’s knuckles. “An acceptable answer.”

“Sleep, (Y/N),” Clint mumbles. “We’re not gonna go anywhere.”

“Okay.” I nod, yawn, and press my nose to his chest. “Okay.”

-----------

Part 11

Finally, finally we can get away from the Hardcore Sad Times and back to interacting with Clint and Bucky (which I think is pretty great, just for my own peace of mind lmao.)

Anyhow, I’d love to see your reactions! I always like knowing what you guys thought, so please comment, reblog, and/or shoot me an ask!

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!

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This fic:

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[introvertguide]

The Graduate (1967); AFI #17

The current film under review is the classic comedy, The Graduate (1967). This moving is one of most well known and referenced films that I know of in American film. It was the last film to win only Best Director while also being nominated for other categories. This makes sense because the acting was good with many newcomers and character actors of the time, but there was some stiff competition at the Oscars that year. Director Mike Nichols did an exceptional job telling a story within a story utilizing symbols and camera movement to let the viewing audience know what the characters were thinking. Show not tell, which is perfect for this sort of media. Let’s go through a summary of the story before looking at any more of the technical or behind-the-scenes notes. This, of course, is always kicked off with...

SPOILER WARNING!!! I AM ABOUT TO GIVE AWAY THE ENTIRE PLOT!!! THERE IS A LOT MORE TO THE STORY OF THIS MOVIE THAN JUST THE PLOT, BUT IT IS STILL GOOD TO WATCH THE WHOLE THING THROUGH BEFORE DISCUSSING IT!!! IF YOU DON’T WANT IT SPOILED, STOP NOW AND WATCH THE MOVIE THEN COME BACK AND CHECK OUT THE REST OF THE ARTICLE

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Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman) is a 20-year-old man who just recently graduated from an East Coast college and has returned to Pasadena, California to stay with his parents and figure out what to do with his life. He is embarrassed by his doting parents at every turn when they invite all the family friends to come see him. The wife of his father’s business partner is Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), a middle aged women who seems unhappy with her marriage and convinces Ben to drive her home where she tries to seduce him. He runs away but later calls her and meets her over at the Taft Hotel and starts up an affair. 

Benjamin spends the summer relaxing by the pool and going off on trysts with Mrs. Robinson at the hotel. During one night at the Taft, Mrs. Robinson reveals that she only married her husband because she was pregnant. Ben knows her daughter, Elaine (Katherine Ross), and jokes that he should date her. Mrs. Robinson is not happy with this and forbids him from seeing her daughter. Unfortunately, Ben’s parents think it would be a great match and set up a date between the kids. 

Ben tries to sabotage the date in the most cringe-worthy way. He ignores Elaine and drives like a crazy man. He takes her to a strip club and sits her right next to the stage. It is so bad that Elaine runs away crying and Ben feels remorse. He actually likes Elaine and they go and have burgers at a drive-thru. They want to have a late night drink and the only place close that is open is the Taft Hotel. They go in and everyone there recognizes Ben which makes Elaine believe he has been seeing an older women. Ben says it is true and the affair is over, so the two plan another date the following day.

Mrs. Robinson threatens to tell Elaine when Ben shows up at the house to pick her up, so Ben tells Elaine first to ruin any blackmail. This upsets Elaine and she returns to Berkeley to go back to school and avoid seeing Ben. 

Ben decides to move to Berkeley in hopes of getting back with Elaine and takes up residence in an all male dorm house. Ben finally runs into Elaine and she says her mom told her that Ben had gotten her drunk and raped her. (Wow. Keep this in mind because I will bring this up again in the conversation section.) Ben explains to Elaine and she forgives him. They hang out and Ben asks her to marry him, but she apparently has promised to marry some other guy named Carl Smith. Unfortunately, Elaine’s father shows up at Ben’s apartment to tell him that he is getting a divorce from Mrs. Robinson and forcing his daughter to marry Carl Smith. He makes a major ruckus and Ben is thrown out by the dorm manager.

Ben goes back to Pasadena and breaks into the Robinson house in search of Elaine but only finds Mrs. Robinson. She calls the police claiming there is a burglar. As Ben escapes, she says that he can’t stop the marriage between Elaine and Carl. He drives back to Berkeley and finds out were the wedding will take place (Santa Barbara) and rushes to the church. He can’t get in the front door so he runs up to the organ room upstairs and bangs on a glass barrier that looks down on the ceremony. He shouts out for Elaine and she eventually yells back in front of all the guests. She runs out and meets Ben, who pins the door closed with a large cross.

Elaine and Benjamin elope by jumping aboard a bus and sit among startled passengers. Their ecstatic expressions change to looks of uncertainty as the bus drives away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have a list of questions that people have asked me when I told them I was doing an analysis of The Graduate, so this will act kind of like a FAQ sheet for the film and hopefully answer some questions:

Dustin Hoffman doesn’t look like he just graduated from college in the movie. How old was he?

Lot of questions about the age of the actors. At the time the movie came out, Katherine Ross played Elaine the college student at 27 years old, Dustin Hoffman played the recent graduate Benjamin at age 30, and Anne Bancroft played the part of middle aged Mrs. Robinson at age 36. It kind of made sense about Dustin Hoffman because he is a very small man with great hair and can look the part of somebody much younger. Katherine Ross lied about her age for years so directors thought she was 3 or 4 years younger than she really was. Anne Bancroft is the one that stands out the most because they put in a couple of grey streaks in her hair and added some crows feet around her eyes and called her 10-15 years older. I think Director Mike Nichols knew this so Elaine and her mother have almost no screen time together.

Didn’t that movie win an Oscar for the music?

It did not. In fact, the song that the film is known for, “Mrs. Robinson,” was not played beyond instrumental snippets. The film was not even nominated for anything music related. 

I think I have seen the movie before because it feels familiar.

The film is set in California and has some of the most well known scenes in American cinema. The initial seduction scene between Mrs. Robinson and Ben captured the hopes of college boys everywhere. The idea of finding a beautiful and experienced woman that aggressively makes all the first moves is the dream of many a man. The famous scene right after Mrs. Robinson reveals she married because she was pregnant and didn’t love her husband shows Ben about to leave and framed by the leg of Mrs. Robinson putting on a stocking. I have never seen wrongful lust depicted any better and it really sticks with you. The final scene in the movie in which Ben stops the wedding and runs away with the bride has been used in many movies and TV shows and really displays Hoffman’s acting because we slowly realize that the new couple has no idea what to do next. I only remember one other non-speaking acting performance were a realization is revealed purely through a slow facial close-up, and that was from Jack Nicholson in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. 

I remember there was some kind of accusation of rape that is never resolved. Did that really happen?

Yup. It did. I never realized how awkward a brush over this was until I specifically looked for it. Mrs. Robinson told her daughter that Ben raped her and Elaine still talks to him instead of calling the police. A rape allegation is not a light thing and there would not be pleasantries at the zoo if this was the case. Why would a girl who believes she is talking to a man that raped her mother and was now stalking her college aged daughter do anything but get the police involved? Elaine actually entertains the thought of marrying the guy. She thought Ben raped her mother and Ben says that the mother seduced and slept with him. She is apparently OK with this. I wouldn’t be.  

Do they actually show Mrs. Robinson naked?

This was asked more than the age question. The answer is “yes, sort of.” There is a very brief shot of Anne Bancroft’s bare chest for two or three frames. If you consider that movies are generally filmed at 24 frames per second, this is very brief. I can’t imagine how many desperate people were quick on the pause button when the movie came out on video. 

Did they use this movie for a Simpson’s episode?

Not just one. The famous shot with a leg in the foreground was in the episode “Homer of Seville” and “Beware My Cheating Bart” while the famous “Mrs. Robinson, you are trying to seduce me” line from the same scene was used in the episode “Lisa’s Substitute.” An homage to the end of the movie was used twice for Grandpa Simpson in the episodes “The Last Temptation of Homer” and “Lady Bouvier’s Lover.” 

So now to the questions I answer for every movie on the AFI top 100. Does this movie belong on the list? Of course. It is a well directed movie full of symbolism. It is the first major role for Dustin Hoffman (one of America’s most well known movie stars). It is engrained in American vernacular: I knew that “she went all Mrs. Robinson” referred to an older woman seducing a younger man years before I ever saw the movie. Mrs. Robinson is a classic villain and that character alone deserves a spot on the top 100. Would I recommend it? Sure would. It is a little cringy at times for me, but it is legitimately funny. There are a couple of topics that are sometimes weird and sometimes uncomfortable, but the direction is good enough to move quickly through these parts to suspend disbelief. Check out the movie and check out the soundtrack because both are great, widely available, and great pieces of classic Americana.

[ziracona]

Could you elaborate on that Gordon fan theory about him being an inside mole? I haven't heard of it before and it sounds intriguing. Plus ever since the small reference to him on the memorial in ILM, I've been wondering what your thoughts were on how he ended up

Oof, okay, buckle up. This will be the abridged version but that’s still gonna be long. (Don’t read if you want to avoid spoilers for the Saw franchise).

So, in Saw, Gordon is a fkn anomaly to most of the fanbase. Becuase he has a wildly solidified character. You watch Gordon & Adam both go through three different character arcs back to back, and trauma bond, and the second to last scene in Saw is this fkn devestating & beautiful one where—let me back up. So. Quick Saw summary. Two people wake up chained by the ankle to pipes in a small nasty abandoned bathroom with a corpse on the floor between them. They’re each left a tape recorder which tells them why they’ve been targeted (Gordon because he doesn’t value life enough which is evidenced by...? — real reason is he’s literally just the unfortunate Doctor who told John he had Cancer, and John Kramer is that petty of a stupid bitch. & Adam is grabbed becuase...Literally he didn’t even bump into John Kramer or something. The guy took him because he’s a starving early 20s kid who is a photographer, and John thinks his occupation & he are pathetic. I’m not joking. Or exaggerating. This is quite literally the given reason for torturing & killing Adam being fine to John). Anyway, Gordon’s wife and like 7 year old daughter have been kidnapped and are being held at gunpoint. Gordon is told that if he finds a way to murder Adam by six (poor Fkn Adam is 6 feet away & hears this whole tape) on the clock, they and he go free. Adam is told if he can stay alive until after six, he wins and can go free.

They spend then the remaineder of Saw trying, like you’d hope good, decent, or even medium or somewhat shitty people would, to help each other escape, rather than Gordon trying to kill Adam at all. They attempt to fake Adam’s death & fail bc they didn’t realize their shackles were wired & they could be zapped, which makes playing dead really hard. Initially they are frustrated by each other, especially Gordon, who is an adult & levelheaded, by Adam who is young and jouvenile and freaking out & being a pain at first, but they bond through attempting to escape & to figure out what’s happened to them, and also learn more truth about each other. Meanwhile you also get backstory on Jigsaw & the case, and follow Detective Tapp’s story through a few investigated murders, the loss of his partner, and to where he is following Gordon, whom he is convinced is Jigsaw, now. Back in the bathroom, Adam and Gordon reach 6 on the clock, and Gordon gets a phone call where the man holding his wife at gunpoint makes her tell him he failed his game & now she and their daughter have to die. His wife bites the man’s hand, and they fight, but all Gordon hears is screaming in his wife and child’s voices and gunshots, and he has a mental breakdown believing they’re being murdered on the other end of the phone. Then is electrocuted. Adam flips out and tries to throw small stones at Gordon’s body to wake him up, terrified he’s dead, and succeeds. Adam is overcome with relief, but Gordon has a full mental breakdown, almost having died and believing his family is dead, then swapping immediately to denial and convincing himself it’s not too late and he can still save them. Adam tries desperately to apologize and calm him down, then to in horror talk him into stopping while he watched Gordon begin to saw off his foot (Adam was given a saw for this purpose too, but his broke early on before they realized the saws were meant for their feet instead of the chains). Gordon does not stop, and Adam watches in horror as he cuts off his foot, crawls to the gun the dead body on the floor has been holding, and puts the one bullet he was given into it. He tells Adam while crying and breaking down that he’s sorry but he has to die he has to save his family. Adam begs him not to shoot, but he does.

Meanwhile, Bc he’s staking out Gordon’s home, Tapp hears shots, runs in, and is able to chase off the killer and save Gordon’s wife and daughter. He pursues the killer to the meat packing plan, where he is ambushed, struggles, and then is shot in the stomach and left for dead. The man, Zepp, makes it to the bathroom where Gordon tries to shoot him with the bow empty gun & screams at him for what he did to his family, who he still believes are dead, then breaks down crying again. Zepp takes out a gun and tells him he failed to kill Adam by 6, so he has to die. Gordon asks hopeless why, and he tells him those are the rules, then goes to shoot him while Gordon tries to shut his eyes and brace for death. Adam, who is not dead, grabs Zepp’s feet and drags him down in a surprise attack, rips the toilet bowl lid off the toilet, and beats him to death with it, saving Gordon, who watches in shock and then crawls over and puts a hand on his shoulder and gets him to stop beating the dead corpse. Adam is wounded & criying because gunshot wounds fkn hurt, & Gordon tries to comfort him. Tells him it’s just a flesh wound—it’s his shoulder—he’ll be okay. Just keep pressure on it. He has to go get help. Adam begs him not to leave him alone in the bathroom, but Gordon says he has to or he’s going to bleed to death (which is incredibly visually apparent). Adam tries to keep him, then watches him crawl and pleads for him to wait and asks if they’re going to be okay? Gordon tells him “I wouldn’t lie to you.” and gives him a reassuring smile while half dead and crawls out to look for help. Adam is left alone and searches Zepp’s corpse for keys to his shackle, then finds a tape exactly like his & Gordon’s. He plays it, and realizes to his horror this man Zepp was another victim, not Jigsaw. He was poisoned and told to kidnap Gordon’s family & shoot them both & Gordon if Gordon lost to earn an antidote, or just accept death and refuse to participate. While the tape plays, the corpse in the room with them stands up, and Adam realizes to overwhelming horror it has been alive the whole time, and it is Jigsaw, who wanted a front row seat to their torture, suffering, and death. He tries to grab Zepp’s gun & shooot him, but Jigsaw/John electrocutes him w a remote (the shackles are wired) and leaves, congratulating him on winning & telling him where his key is (it got flushed down a drain when Adam woke up, which John no doubt planned), then telling him “Game Over” and locking him alone in the bathroom because John’s a fake ass piece of shit who doesn’t even keep his promises & let the winners go.

The end scene between Adam and Gordon is phenomenal & heart wrenching (Saw is an amazing character piece of a film, & the first film is the reason it became a modern horror staple! Watch here if you’re curious! :’-]

While Gordon does eventually, under extreme duress, shoot Adam, he never wants to kill him, and they are definitely close by the end of the film (which is clear both from the way they treat each other, and their more decisive actions, like Adam risking his life to save Gordon after being shot by him & never seeking recompense for the gunshot, Gordon trying to help Adam & comfort him as well as get help for them both). This is the central relationship of Saw 1, and it’s really well done.

Then, in Saw 2, there’s just no mention of Gordon going back to save Adam. We wonder what happened, until Amanda & Danny stumble to the bathroom form Saw 1 & you are greeted by Adam’s decaying corpse still chained there. It’s later revealed that Gordon escaped the bathroom, cauterized his wound on a hot pipe because he knew he was going to die otherwise, then passed out from pain. John found him and took him to his workshop, where he nursed him back to health & gave him a prosthetic leg, before convincing him to join the team.

Understandably, this did not sit well with any of the Saw fandom. We fight about all kinds of stuff, but the one thing I’ve like, never seen disagreement on, is that it makes no fkn sense for Gordon to betray Adam like that after how close they were, and it makes even less sense he’d willingly join the man who super tried to murder his wife and kid. If it wasn’t for Tapp and Adam, Gordon, his wife, and his child would be dead now. John endangered all 3 intentionally, and did not save or spare any of them.

Still with me? So. Because of that, people started digging. Now, out of Jigsaw’s apprentices, Gordon is the only one who never takes a very active roll. He did not run games or kidnap people. Becuase he was a doctor, John called him in to do medical work for tests, such as sewing a key into the eye of the man from the cold open to Saw II. The only active work he takes is catching Hoffman at the end of Saw 3D & locking him in the basement, which John asked him to do if Hoffman killed Jill (which Hoffman does). This together with Gordon’s character led to a massive fan theory. Let me try to break it down.

After Saw 1, Gordon joins a support group for Jigsaw game survivors, and returns to his family. We get very little info about him period until Saw 3D though. However! Pre Saw 1, Jigsaw basically never lost, the cops never even got close. Suddenly after Saw 1, the entire gang falls apart, starting with Amanda and John, then finally Hoffman & Jill. In Saw 3, it’s revealed Amanda went back to the bathroom to kill Adam when he survived his test. She promises she’s there to help him when he wakes up scared and half dead in the dark, and then puts a plastic bag over his head and smothers him while he fights. This lead to a fan theory that Gordon went back to save Adam once he could (able to walk & not being shadowed by Jigsaw), but was too late, and decided to take revenge very carefully. However, Amanda has a shit track record of thinking she killed someone & not checking for a pulse (see Eric Matthews, who she thought she beat to death), so the even more popular theory is that Adam was not dead by the time Gordon got to him, and Gordon saved him and replaced his corpse with another. This theory is backed by the fact that Adam was shot in the shoulder, but when the body is seen in other films, it is both too decayed to be recognizable, and the gunshot wound is in the stomach (where Tapp was shot). Furthermore, when Amanda & Danny find Zepp and “Adam”’s bodies in Saw 2, Zepp, who was already partially bald, still has hair, yet Adam’s corpse is completely bald. The shackle is also on the wrong foot now, which would indicate it was removed and then replaced by someone in a hurry. Now, obviously it’s possible this was just a continuity error, but given that Saw usually has a good track record with continuity (and uses them a lot for big reveals), that gives more weight than usual to the theory.

So, this led to the idea that Gordon was able to either save Adam, or at least remove his body & bury it, replaced it with a fake (possibly Tapp? but considering the bodies wouldn’t be decayed enough for the skin to be missed if he did it when Adam was alive or in decent preserve even, and Tapp is considerably taller, I’d assume he, as a doctor, didn’t have too much trouble stealing a John Doe cadaver from the hospital) corpse in Adam’s clothes, then agreed to help Jigsaw becuase he was smart enough to know if he didn’t play along, John would kill him (he would, and has. He never lets people with dangerous information go). John also tends to have failsafes in place, like “if Gordon betrays me, kill his daughter” kind of stuff, so the theory is Gordon played along to keep his family safe, instead of going to the cops, since he knew at least Hoffman worked for Jigsaw already, and there might be more plants, and did his best to engineer the breakdown and eventual demises of the whole team from Saw 1 on. (Was the one who gave Hoffman the idea to threaten Amanda or the info to do it, intentionally failed to protect Jill from Hoffman to have an easy excuse to kill/see both dead, etc). Makes double sense if Adam was alive, becuase if Gordon revealed himself as mole, first thing Jigsaw & co would check is what else he messed with, and they knew he was close to Adam.

There’s a lot more details to it, but that’s the short version. Most people I know in the Saw fandom ascribe to it in a weird kind of “Look I know it’s probably just inconsistent character writing and in that case fuck Gordon he can go to hell, but since I truly don’t believe Saw 1 Lawrence Gordon would do this & there’s enough evidence for reasonable doubt, I choose to believe the convoluted theory that makes him make sense & also means Adam could maybe be alive” way. Including me. If Gordon really decides he has no issue with John after what he did to him, his baby girl, Adam, and his poor wife, joins him willingly & helps, then he’s as bad as Amanda & Hoffman & fuck that guy. But since the characterization doesn’t match /at all/ & there’s never an explanation given, & fan theory makes more sense, I tend to think of Gordon as if the fan theory is right? Although if you don’t & thus hate Gordon, 100% respect. I just cannot watch Saw 1 & believe Lawrence would join up for any reason but revenge & long con to keep family safe. I mean, he tried to kill a /friend/ to save his family. You’re really going to try to convince me the man who cut off his own foot by hand to try to save his wife and daughter would ever be cool with or forgive the man who tried to execute them for no reason? Uhhh, to quote Dr. Gordon himself,

I mean.

💁🏻‍♀️ You can’t convince me the man this hellbent on destroying the man who was threatening his family did not make him pay, and just decided to be pals. You can’t. It’s inconsistent writing. :’-] anyway, there’s other info too—one of the disguised figures who helps Lawrence take out Hoffman is the exact height Adam was, the plastic bag from Amanda is gone & the corpse in a different position, etc—been like 2 years so I don’t even remember it all, but it’s very fascinating. & that’s the short yet somehow still too long version of the Gordon theory I definitely did not proof read at all for which I apologize! It’s more convincing than I write it I swear I am just exhausted. :’-] But yeah, most saw fans ascribe to it, which is why we all seem to still like Gordon, and he’s so often shipped with Adam, both of which would probably otherwise seem massively confusing. Hope it helps!

(Oh! & in ILM, since i ascribe to that theory, I wrote him that way. Failed to save Adam, buried his body, then took slow, careful revenge on Jigsaw & co. to keep his family safe. Knows there are deaths he is not blameless for becuase of that, and is full of guilt over wondering if going to the police wouldn’t have saved people, even if he had understandable doubts & reasons for what he did. Is especially guilty for Adam’s death. Seeks to make reparations slowly his own way. [tho also soemtimes secretive characters lie to me until it becomes necessary for me to know, so it’s possible Gordon saved Adam & is hiding it, but given the whole gang is dead, I don’t know why he still would be, so I think ILM verse all he could do was bury the body]).

[thronesofshadows]

First Impressions || Roland & Evelyn

TIMING: Last Week PARTIES: @sgtrolandhills and @thronesofshadows SUMMARY: Roland is a good and upstanding citizen. Evelyn, not so much, but she fakes it well?

Duty wasn’t something that just left Roland when he checked out of the station for the night. It was something he lived and breathed. Even in his personal time, if there was a way he could serve his community, he was usually open to it. It was why as he was walking back to his car, takeout bags in hand, he paused as he heard whimpering nearby. It mattered little that he was off duty. If someone needed his help, he was going to do what he could. He peeked around a corner onto a dimly lit street and saw a young woman with a much larger man. It sounded as if the whimpering was coming from her, but he swore he saw the man crying. He blinked slowly, trying to get a good grip on the situation before he called out, “What’s going on out here?”

So Alain knew what she was and there was no going back from that. That didn’t mean that she had to stop being who she was, though. She still needed to feed, and Evelyn still got a thrill out of certain other methods of feeding. Of giving those who most deserved it their dues. The man in particular today reminded her of a less well-kept version of many of the patrons of her own bar. She hadn’t even had to invite him out, this time. He’d followed her after she’d left Dell’s and that was how they’d ended up in their present situation. He’d made some stupid comment about her hair and had asked her some question she hadn’t paid attention to, and because she was someone who could deal wth this sort of thing with a fair amount of ease, and so she’d grinned, a perfect smile flashed before she ran her hand along his arm and looked right into his eyes. She couldn’t paralyze with her gaze, but that didn’t mean that it was any less terrifying to experience. He began to whimper and she felt a small smile creep over her lips before she heard someone else’s voice. Shoot. This town was too nosy for its own good, sometimes. Her facial expression dropped and she let her eyes grow wide, brushing her fingers against them and putting the contacts in. “He followed me.” She blinked - once, twice, three times. “I don’t even know his name.” The man was backed against the other wall now, taking heavy breaths. His fears had hardly been worth it. Some ridiculous deal with heights. Dreadfully plain.

While he was off duty, Roland was still in uniform as he hadn’t yet been home from work. It seemed lucky he caught this before anything further progressed. While the woman explained the man had been following her, he still seemed to be frightened for his life. Something wasn’t adding up and he didn’t like it. He supposed the woman could have stood up for herself which may have come as a shock to the predator. She hardly looked like she could do much harm. “Where did he follow you from, ma’am?” If this guy was stalking her with intent to harass, something would need to be done. He carefully looked between the pair and did his best to keep analyzing the situation.

As the other man came closer, Evelyn could see that he was in uniform. Shoot. Whenever the police were involved, things got a lot more complicated. Except with Marley - Evelyn knew that she could trust her, but everyone else there was up in the air. Which meant she had to tread carefully here. She twirled the ends of her hair around her fingertips, every mark one of nerves. “You do not need to call me ma’am.” She offered him a kind smile. “But - he followed me from Dell’s.” She glanced down at him, the urge to kick him to stop the whimpering - though ever since she’d broken eye contact with him, at least the whimpers had lessened. “To be quite fair, I did not even notice him, and I might have reacted rather strongly.” Another shrug as she bit her lip, “my boyfriend has been teaching me judo, so perhaps that startled him.” She took a few steps towards her new company. “I am ever so grateful you happened by, though.”

It brought Roland a sense of relief to know this woman had some basic self defense skills. He truly believed it was vital for everyone to have some know how when it came to fending for ones’ self. Back in Boston, he’d even taught classes to help with as much. While he wasn’t on duty so he couldn’t do much, he shifted the bag of food in his arms and responded, “I’m glad you were able to handle yourself at least. I’m off duty at the moment, but I can radio someone to come pick him up. Stalking is a serious offense.” One he would not tolerate. He nodded along as she explained her boyfriend had been teaching her judo. By the looks of it, she was certainly good at taking care of herself in that regard. The man who once thought he’d have power in the situation was now reduced to tears as if his digressions hadn’t been shameful enough. “Look at me,” he demanded as he knelt down, “Were you following this young woman?”  

“Oh,” Evelyn bit her lip. “I mean, you don’t have to do that.” She looked carefully at the policeman. “I know you all stay incredibly busy, and the last thing I want to do is add unnecessary work onto your docket.” Not to mention, if he talked too much, she could find herself in trouble. “I am aware it is an offense, but I think he was just being a jerk.” Then the policeman had to bend down and talk to the man and he looked over at Evelyn with a glare, muttering that she’d done something. “He is lying.” Evelyn lied through her teeth. “Anything I did was out of self-defense.” Or prevention. Giving him a taste of his own medicine, no matter how clichéd that phrase may be. “I think I would feel most comfortable if you and I just walked away from him.” The man let out another scream and Evelyn felt her hands shoot up to her ears. “Perhaps sooner than later?”

“Are you sure,” Roland questioned. If this was the type of man to follow women from bars, he wanted him to be brought in. If the woman wasn’t pressing charges there was little that could be done anyhow. “We do stay busy, but any public threat is worth examining.” Stalking went way past being a jerk in his book. These were people that felt they were entitled to people they were infatuated with just because they wanted them. That wasn’t how the world worked and delusions needed to be broken before it was too late. While the man did seem genuinely alarmed, somehow his allegations seemed frantic and nonsensical. Great, another town drunk. If leaving the man behind would make the woman more comfortable, he’d lead the way. “Come on,” he said as he stood up and frowned at the man, “He can figure his way home, I imagine, even if he does seem entirely too wasted to be out in public.” Once they were a safe distance away and standing under the glow of street lights, he shifted his bag of food to his left side and extended his hand, “I’m Sergeant Hills, by the way, but you can call me Roland. Are you close to your destination?”

“Yes.” She nodded. For all that Evelyn often found the police department’s incompetence when it came to the supernatural infuriating (and the very reason that Melanie’s killer had never been dealt with), she found herself incredibly grateful for it this time. It meant that he could pass it all off as just being typically weird. Evelyn bit her lower lip, fighting away a smile as the man continued to whimper. “Thank you.” She took another few steps closer to him, giving a sharp nod. “He deserves that, after all.” Perhaps her words had too much of a bite to them, but in this moment she could not find it in herself to care. “He does at that.” One of the many reasons she often chose bars when she needed to feed - or wanted to, even, Being drunk was an easy excuse to wave away anything that anyone said. “I am Evelyn Hoffman. You are welcome to just call me Evelyn, though.” She tucked another strand of hair behind her ear and nodded, “well, not to my destination but my car is not too far away. I reside on Harris Island.” She began walking, before adding on, “do you usually make a habit of working to save the day, even when you are off-duty?”

While Evelyn’s words were a bit harsh, Roland could understand. Men like this were infuriating and he’d much rather bring him into the station, but he’d respect her wishes. It wasn’t like she had called the police to the scene. He’d just happened to be walking by. There wasn’t much he could do now as they walked away. He nodded slowly and followed her steps. “Evelyn, it’s good to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better.” Everything about her seemed prim and proper despite how he’d found her in the alley. It was a relief to hear her car was not too far away, he could make sure she got there safely. “May I walk you to your car, then? I’d like to make sure that drunk doesn’t try to follow you again.” It was no surprise to hear she lived on Harris Island. That was the nicer part of town. At her question, he shrugged. It didn’t seem like much to stand up for people in need when he saw me. “I guess you could say I do. I take my duty to serve the community seriously. I also just prefer to do the right thing when the opportunity presents itself.” He paused for a moment. “I take it you’ve gotten pretty good with the judo?”

“I do as well. I would have much preferred to meet you in just about any other way.” She offered him a wry smile, followed by a light shrug of her shoulders. Evelyn straightened her posture again. “Well, if you wish to make them better at any point, you are free to come by my bar. The police department are not my most frequent guests, but I welcome anyone, and you seem to be a good person.” She nodded, “yes, I would be quite appreciative of that, if it does not cause you too much trouble.” Adjusting the fit of her dress, she continued to walk, “though I do not think he should bother us again.” She fought away the puzzled look that threatened her face. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with people who were aware of the supernatural, at least in part, so much so that she forgot just how many people were entirely unaware. Forgot how much that could benefit her. She wasn’t about to feed on the man who’d come upon her, though -  he had been nothing but kind, and though she knew some people she fed from were properly good people, doing that to a police sergeant who’d just offered to help her out was not the sort of person she was. “Well, I think more people should be like you.” She flashed him a grin. “Oh! Judo? Yeah, I guess? I mean, I’m not on the level of my boyfriend at all, but I know some basic moves. I think I surprised him more than anything else. I mean,” Evelyn gave a small shrug as they turned a corner, “I do not exactly look all too threatening.”

What was done was done, but Roland did figure it would be nicer to meet Evelyn in a more proper fashion. Anyone with her self defense skills was someone worth knowing. He wondered if her or her boyfriend would ever consider joining him for some of the free self defense classes they offered for the community. “I think I’d like that. What bar is yours? I’ve admittedly not been to many of the bars since I’ve moved here. And thanks,” he said calmly now that there was more distance between them and the drunk. It was also a relief he could make sure she was getting to her car safely. “It’ll be no trouble at all,” he assured her and let her lead the way to her vehicle. As they walked toward her car, Roland was on high alert and was actively making sure no one was approaching. It seemed the drunk man remained in the alley, not surprising as it seemed he could not get up from the ground. Maybe after all this, he’d go back and check on him. Hopefully, a woman standing up for herself taught him a lesson. He noted a streetlight in front of them was currently burned out. A mental note was made to call Public Works about it in the morning. “Still, you knew enough to keep yourself safe. I’m actually looking to get more free self-defense classes going for the community. If your boyfriend was ever interested in volunteering, I’m sure others could learn a lot from him just as you have.” Maybe more self defense would help combat this town’s insanely high fatality rate. “Not to make you or him feel pressured, I just like to keep people aware of the opportunities available through the community center. I know many find volunteer work rewarding.” He let out a small chuckle and added, “You definitely don’t. That makes it all the easier to disarm someone.”

“The Artesian.” Evelyn offered him another smile. “Might I ask where you moved from? I am quite clearly not a native, either. I myself am a bit of a dead giveaway, though I suppose I could have been raised in America and still have this accent.” Though Evelyn was not able to pick up fear by random happenstance, only when she actively fed, she could tell that he was certainly paying more attention. Which meant that she just had to keep playing human as much as was possible. She found herself grateful that she had far too much experience in doing just that, but at times like this, it was easy to work a situation to her benefit. “Well, though it may be no trouble, I am still grateful. Not everyone does these sorts of things out of the pure goodness of their heart, no matter what storybooks may have implied.” She let herself laugh for a moment, permitting a moment of levity between them. “I do. Oh? Well, classes are always good. I know someone else who runs a self-defense course, but I can ask after my boyfriend, see what he thinks. He does seem to enjoy helping the community, so I bet I can persuade him to do something at least.” She gave another shrug. “It does at that. Not that I make a particular habit of it, mind you, but I like to be prepared.”

“I think I’ve heard of it before,” Roland responded with a small grin on his face. “I’ll have to check it out.” He always assumed he’d be a little out of place. It sounded fancy, but if the owner was inviting him, surely he couldn’t be too much of a sore thumb. “I moved here from Boston back toward the end of April. It’s definitely a different world here,” he answered, “Where are you from? By the sounds of it, overseas, I’m sure.” It would explain the posh nature she had about her. He wouldn’t be surprised if that drunk had also wanted to rob her. He was happy that wasn’t the case and by all indications, no one was following them. That didn’t make him any less aware of their surroundings. Her praise still felt slightly odd. He was proud of his work and what he did for his community. He knew it wasn’t for everyone and that fear and pain often inspired people’s choices, but to him, it just seemed natural. He was much like his father in that way. “You’re welcome, then. I know storybooks are hardly realistic, but I guess I’ve just been lucky enough to have good role models in my life,” he explained with a shrug. “If it’s not something he’s up to, that’s totally okay. Me and another one of the detectives at the station take turns running it. Occasionally, a local martial arts instructor comes in as well. I think it’s a good experience. Helpful and a good way to connect with the community.” As they rounded a corner, he added, “Always better to be safe than sorry.”

“Well, I am pleased that you have heard of it. Save for one incident, we have quite the pristine reputation.” Evelyn nodded. “Let me know, and I will be sure you get in. We often have a waiting list, but as the owner, I can make exceptions as I see fit.” At his question she gave a nod, “good observation skills. Yes, I am from London. Moved here four years ago. Incidentally, also in April. Must be a lucky sort of month for moving here.” Though he was likely human (she always assumed this, unless given reason to think otherwise - because this town, for all that it brought the comfort of the supernatural, there were still a great number of humans). “That is quite lucky. I have been fortunate to have a few of those myself.” She wondered, for a moment, if he was the sort who would help her if she came to him with Melanie’s case - though she knew that she could ask Marley for help with that at any point, perhaps not all of the police force were entirely incompetent. Even if most would never believe that hunters existed, and even if her physiology would be explained as nothing more than a trick of the eye. “I am happy to check with him regardless. Sometimes he is rather shy about how lovely he is, so perhaps this will earn him well-deserved greater appreciation. Besides, he truly does know his stuff. It is both of those things,” the turned the corner, “this town likes to throw surprises, and I was always taught, even as a child, to be prepared.” Her car was hardly too far away, now. “Can I ask, if you do not mind, what you think of this town? I know that when I arrived I heard all sorts of incredibly wild tales.”

With all the other craziness that happened in the town, Roland had nearly forgotten that Langley had been stabbed by a mime at that establishment. Though Langley getting stabbed seemed to be a trend, he could hardly blame it on her decidedly not mime-themed bar. “I think I know the incident you’re referring to and that hardly seems like the fault of you or your staff,” he said genuinely. As much as he liked Langley, it seemed like someone had it out for him. “I appreciate that, but I think I can manage to make a reservation before coming in. This may come as a huge shock to you, seeing as we just met, but I’m not the most spontaneous guy around,” he joked. As they walked under flickering lights, he couldn’t help but note he wasn’t so sure his move was lucky anymore. He’d been so optimistic at that start. Maybe he could find his way back to that. “London, that would explain the accent. What brought you to White Crest?” She had a successful business here, but he had to wonder, why here? Perhaps it wasn’t any of his business. Role models always made him think of his dad which left him with something of a wistful smile as they rounded a corner toward a parking lot. “I’m glad you’ve had some of those as well. They really do make all the difference.” There was a hint of sadness in his voice as he spoke, but he quickly returned gears to community classes. “Being humble is always an admirable trait-- though maybe some extra appreciation from his community would do him well, too.” At her question, he shifted a bit uncomfortably. Before being trapped in that house where nothing seemed to make sense and actually talking about it with Marley, his answer would have been much more clear cut. Now, he wasn’t so sure. It all sounded crazy, but from what he saw, it was in fact, crazy. “I’m not quite sure. Still trying to find a way to explain all of the things I’ve seen here. At the end of the day, what I make of all the wild tales matters little. It’s my duty to protect the people of this town. Maybe one day, things will have a little more clarity, but until then, I still have responsibilities to uphold.”

“Thank you. I have come to be alright with that now, but I did feel quite a bit of guilt after the fact,” Evelyn shrugged. She had shrugged it off by this point - especially since Kaden had seemed to forgive her, but she still hadn’t quite figured out why a mime would target someone. Focusing her thoughts back on Roland, she grinned. “Well, I do trust you with that, and hey, too much spontaneity is not for everyone. I can be, my boyfriend is not, to each their own. Still, if you would like to, I am happy to knock some other people off the list for you. From what I can tell, you are already better company than some of my other patrons.” She offered him another shrug at the remark about her accent. “That it would.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I wanted a change of pace. Someone mentioned this town to me, told me it was beautiful, and I figured why not?” They were nearing the parking lot now and she bit her lip at his comment. “It is a lucky sort of thing to have, if I am to be honest.” He shifted topics quickly enough to spark a bit of curiosity in her, but not enough for her to push. At least not yet. “I think some added appreciation would do him well. I mean, he gets it from me, but there is a bit of a difference, no matter how much he might value my opinion.” She looked at him carefully as he began to talk. All of the things I’ve seen here. She wondered if she was about to get added to that list, though he’d seemingly taken her explanation of what went down at face value. “There are a few mighty confusing things, I will admit that. Well, your dedication to your duty is something to be admired, that much I can already tell.”

“I’m glad it’s gotten easier,” Roland replied as they continued their walk through the parking lot. Guilt was a feeling he knew well, especially as of late. No matter how many times you told yourself something was out of your control, it was never easy to shake off that feeling that maybe there was something you could have done differently. Sometimes people had to be reminded the only person’s actions they could control were their own. He hadn’t meant to let his thoughts drift so astray and he tuned back in just in time to catch what Evelyn had been saying. “I suppose you’re right. Different strokes for different folks and all that. I appreciate that you’d do that for me. Guess that just means I’ll need to come by sooner rather than later,” he responded with a small grin. It did sound like a nice place and it’d been a while since his nice not-work shirts were put to good use. Her reasoning for moving here seemed sound enough. Some really enjoyed that small town charm though he was almost positive White Crest was lacking in the charm part these days. Before, he’d seen it, even if the death rate was high. Now? He just didn’t know. The unsolved stack of cases sitting on his desk told a different story. “Well, it seems like you’ve done quite well for yourself here. I’ve heard good things about your bar.” That much was true. They were making their way further into a parking lot now and he assumed they had to be close. “Well, I appreciate anyone showing people how to keep themselves safe. Speaking of, is this the lot you’re parked in?” His dinner was long cold by now, but it was still better than Lean Cuisine and probably came with less scrutiny. “Nothing that can’t be managed with some dedication at least. Thank you, though. I try to serve my community well.” When she confirmed they were in fact near her car, he gave her a brief wave. “I am glad you let me walk with you. It feels better to know you’re safe. I’ll definitely be stopping in to see you soon.”

“Only so much I can reasonably hold on to, I think.” Evelyn bit her lip. She had more than enough about Melanie - nothing could ever surpass that, nothing could take away the guilt she felt for leaving that morning, for not finding out who murdered her girlfriend in the three years since.  “Of course. Least I can do, after you have been so kind to me.” Additionally, she had an incredible curiosity about him. She knew she ought to not feel such a way about humans, but she could not help it. Especially ones who genuinely wanted to do good in their community. Who wanted to help just for the sake of helping, while asking for nothing in return. “It has been in a few magazines, and the general consensus has been positive, I think.” She smiled softly at him, feigning modesty. “Yes, it is. I am right over there,” she gave a nod to her Ferrari. “You do a good job of it, Sergeant. I look forward to seeing you soon.”

[anteakwa]

tootsie isn’t a bad show: an essay by tumblr user phantom-evil-nightshade (with proof!)

ever since it opened, tootsie the musical has been getting a lot of hate from broadway fans. kind of sad, in all honesty—it truly isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. i’ve watched both the movie and saw the broadway show, so allow me to explain youtube-commentator style why this show is very not transphobic or misogynistic or whatever and why everyone thinks it is. feel free to debate with me in dms, reblogs or replies, but if you make it obvious that you didn’t read this then i will only ignore you.

to kick things off, we’ll be going in chronological order. so let’s go way back to the original movie from 1982. the movie “tootsie”, starring dustin hoffman, is about a man named michael dorsey who disguises as a woman to get a job. cue the high jinks as michael finds himself in very sticky situations, including men wanting to kiss him, his friend getting upset because she was trying to get the role he got, and his inability to ask out the girl he likes because she sees him as a woman.

seems problematic, right?

well, not exactly. the funniest scenes in tootsie (both the movie and the musical) are caused because of michael’s own mistakes. it’s acknowledged throughout both versions that what michael’s doing is bad. hell, there’s a whole song in the musical (“jeff sums it up”) where he says “you fucked it up-you really fucked it up” like ten times.

now, let’s discuss further the two versions together. i saw the movie in preparation for the musical, but when i saw the musical, a lot was changed—from the obvious to the subtle, it’s near impossible to call the musical problematic if you’ve seen it. by “seen it”, i don’t mean “just read one or two reviews and decided you knew everything”. i mean actually saw the musical live, or a bootleg of it. because here are some things the reviews DONT tell you (in the musical):

when jeff (michael’s roommate) finds out about what he’s doing, he tells him that it could be really harmful to certain groups of people. i couldn’t remember all of it, since he was speaking kinda fast, but i do remember he said “gay women, straight women, trans women” right at the end. the show openly acknowledges that michael’s actions aren’t good, and are fueled by his own selfishness.

another gem from our boy jeff is from the same scene as the one above, i believe, as it also ties into what point was made there. jeff tells michael that he just stole a job from a woman, and went on about misogyny in not just the theatre industry, but the working industry in general. and by the way, this and the thing above weren’t meant to be jokes—although it is a comedy, this scene was serious (some people even clapped for jeff).

the woman michael falls in love with is NOT A LESBIAN. this seems to be a super common misconception in the tootsie hate playgroup. she isn’t a lesbian in either the movie or the musical. she literally has a song in the musical where she sings about how she met a guy she loved, but he left her because he wanted a wife and kids, but she wanted to pursue an acting career and just didn’t have the time to be a housewife (“there was john”). i’ll explain it in further detail here—at the very end of act 1, julie kisses michael (as dorothy) on the cheek, and he kisses her back, but impulsively on the mouth as a lover would. they both get super flustered and julie runs off, and michael mad at himself. now, i can see where the lesbian misconception comes from—there’s a scene in act 2 at julie’s house where julie asks dorothy if they can date. i didn’t understand this scene a lot, but i personally believe it’s because julie mistook kindness for love, and also thought dorothy loved her because of the kiss before and wanted to make her happy. however, there was some dialogue here which pretty much speaks for itself:

dorothy: i’m not a lesbian!

julie: neither am i.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MICHAEL WASNT INSTANTLY FORGIVEN. everyone was pissed at him. he was immediately fired, there was a whole two minute long scene where sandy was destroying michael’s stuff while jeff watched in amusement, and julie was incredibly angry. the last scene reminded me a lot of that of dear evan hansen. michael finds julie in a park and tries to explain his actions. he tells her that he only did it for the work, and that he wants to make it up to her. he tells her that he wants to try and learn how to be dorothy, but without the wig and dress (since dorothy was someone julie could trust and feel comfortable around). julie tells michael that being a woman was so much harder than anything he experienced as both himself and dorothy, and he understands completely. she doesn’t quite forgive him, but she’s obviously willing to try.

another thing that i see a lot of is controversy around one line in the show taken vastly out of context. after michael reveals he’s a man, he says something along the lines of “being a woman is not the job of a man” (forgive me if the wording is a bit wrong). this quote was taken out of context and was spread with the intention of making people think that it was an attack against trans women. but, let me repeat: it was taken out of context. you had to hear how passionately he said it to understand fully, but when he said it, he meant it in the sense that was mentioned earlier: how he stole a job from a woman. the audience clapped after he said that. it’s hard to completely explain, but again, everything he said was about him being sorry for taking the job (he was talking to sandy), and it took me a couple seconds after he finished it to even think “hey, that quote sounds familiar”.

that’s all i can think of for now. as said at the beginning, i’m open to civil debates and questions about anything i could’ve possibly missed. will add anything more if i think about it in a reblog.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Girl Genius Liveblog #223

UPDATE 223: Their Reputation Precedes Them

Last time Andronicus the Storm King was found alive, and he escaped from the vault, going upwards to cause some good ol’ havoc throughout Paris. Shenanigans may ensue if he goes to the costume party. It’s time for a king, displaced from his time! Now coming to Disney because really, when I put it like that it sounds like a Disney original plot. So let’s continue!

Looks like it’ll be a while before Andronicus’ potential destruction is seen. First they will have to leave the vault. The very first moment in this update shows them dreading what will happen, and Hoffman is sure he will get blamed for this. Well, better him than Agatha! Because the Master is not fond of her at all, the last thing she needs is to be in trouble with him. At least they have Dr. Zardeliv, who will—oh nevermind he’s gone. Smoke Knights, they strike again.

Honestly? I don’t think anyone knew. They all created this whole mess with the Knights of Jove and Tarvek and Tweedle fighting and what not, it’s all too complicated to deal with if Andronicus is still alive. No, I’m sure nobody knew. Besides, Van Rijn was the one who did this and I’m sure he had the capacity to keep a few things as a secret for himself. Was Van Rijn involved with the Knights? Well, doesn’t really matter.

Also, if Tarvek had known, I’m sure he’d have taken preemptive measures to avoid any trouble. He’s not so careless he’d let this loose end stay unsolved. Violetta sure wouldn’t be surprised if he knew, though.

Since Dimo is rather long-lived, he may be able to reveal a truth or two about Andronicus, Agatha asks him if the guy they just saw free truly is the Storm King. Dimo can’t confirm it 100%, but to me it seems like what he remembers fits very well what I saw. I’d be willing to take it as confirmation, really, and I don’t think Prende would be mistaken about that. Besides, the fact he knows where the sword is at is a pretty huge indication this is the real deal. I love the names the Foglios gave to the weapons, by the way, this is great. Hmmm...either way, even if it’s not the real Andronicus for some reason, it still is a huge threat!

Somewhere else, a pair of men who are undoubtedly aligned with the Library are in a hunting lodge, where Gil and Bangladesh arrive to ruin their day.

Nobody can ever say the Library’s people aren’t dedicated to their cause, really. It’s admirable, in some strange, bizarre way.

Gil is on the warpath, interrogating and incinerating hands to get the information he seeks. Looks like Tarvek has been taken underground! To where exactly...they don’t say. Hm. I wonder if, somehow, what Aldin and Larana are doing is related to Tarvek being kidnapped. It’s possible, no? At least I’m not ruling it out. Having obtained the info, it’s time to move on to parts unknown! Shouldn’t be long before Gil finds Tarvek, I bet.

Speaking of Aldin and Larana! There they are. They’re fighting a clank that looks like a snake with like ten poisonous fangs. So cool! Hoffman doesn’t even question why they were away from everybody else and fighting this clank, he just joins the fight. So, what’s the story, guys? Is this related to your secret mission?

They’re fine, they say. I mean, if neither Zeetha nor Dimo are worried I guess it’s fine, but this sure looks painful and dangerous. But on the other hand, the Heterodyne Boys used to do this Heroic Freestyle technique too and they fared relatively well, so maybe it’ll all be okay. I’m sure Aldin would love the comparisons to the Heterodyne Boys, haha! He has to face it, he and Hoffman truly are the new hero team of brothers and what not.

Apparently there’s never any mention of the Jagers coming along with the Heterodyne Boys in adventures and the such. Something juicy is going on here, hm? What’s the deal here?

So the Jagers were in the area, they just stayed out of sight because that’s what the Heterodyne Boys wanted. Sounds like they hated the Jagers. Damn, that’s a shame, but maybe it was for the better. Jagers would have been so useful in heroics, but they have...what, hundreds of years of reputation coming along? A few heroic actions aren’t going to solve that. But it seems the sentiment wasn’t mutual, the Jagers’ loyalty was as strong as ever.

Also, the Heterodyne Boys were doing something new and interesting, and that was alluring to the Jagers. Seems to me like they were truly fond of those two brothers. Soon they got caught and told to scram to Mechanisburg, and being the loyal army they were, they obeyed. That’s why nobody was there when the Heterodyne Boys disappeared.

Hm. Depending on what happened, it could have made things worse, really. What exactly made them disappear? Well, “disappear”, because I recall Barry was with Agatha for a few years after the disappearance. It’s possible they just went into hiding, nothing else. If the Jagers had been with them, they wouldn’t have been able to do such a thing, hm?

Dimo does seem to realize the point I made, that the Jagers’ reputation would have made it hard for heroes to do their thing. He can’t really blame the brothers for not wanting to deal with that, can he. It’s pretty amazing people gave them a chance despite their last name, I’d say.

Oh yes, Agatha definitely is more like the Heterodyne Boys than like...literally every other Heterodyne in the family. Still, you know what I think? She shouldn’t be afraid of taking the Jagers along! Who cares what people think? Agatha isn’t trying to be a hero, she’s trying to help her town and that’s it! She isn’t going to subdue sparks or save helpless towns, she’s going to do her thing, nothing else. The might of having a Jager army on her side may be what she needs, really. I trust Agatha would be able to use them well.

It doesn’t really take much thinking, Agatha has a few things clear: for one, she’s not like the Heterodyne Boys, she won’t be rescuing things around. Her duty is with everything that belongs to the House of Heterodyne. That’s the priority. Besides, she doesn’t get cold feet over public image, so she isn’t really going to care. Alright! That was settled nice and easy.

This may be a good spot to stop, yup.

Next time: two updates

[willardswritindump]

Days turned to weeks, and most of the time all Odie would get from his battle buddy was quick, harsh glances and puffs of aggravation. The only time they shared conversation was in situations when they were required to. She was intent on following through with her words.

June 3rd, 2525

1800 hours

It was cold, wet and muddy. The Drill Sergeants saw the lovely weather and decided to take the recruits out for target practice. Up on a small ridge lay about a dozen or so Cadets, letting off short bursts from their ARs and BRs that mimicked the thunder in the background.

 Sarah pulled the spent magazine from her BR55, replaced it, and set her iron sights down the firing lane. She fired three consecutive bursts, and nine holes appeared in the targets torso region 100 meters out. The Academy has some skilled students and soldiers, sure, but Sarah seems to have more experience than the rest of the idiots here. She fired two more bursts. Three rounds hit the torso, two the head.

The only one remotely close to Sarah’s skill was Oliver. While she sent well placed bursts into each of her targets at 100 meters he was carefully placing every single shot out of his BR55 into the chest and head of the target at 200 meters. Each one being fast but not so fast as to allow the recoil from the last shot to throw him off. The groupings, one for the heart, one for each lung and one right between the eyes of the target weren’t any larger than an inch in diameter. Just like his oldest brother Christian taught him.

“Well well well, looks like you two fucking psychos were made for each other!”

Their platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Declan Wrtezky said as he kicked each of the cadets in the boot as they continued to fire.

“You two are some of the best shots we’ve seen in a long while, if only you two actually fucking spoke to each other you’d maybe make a decent fucking team!”

"Yes Sir, thank you Drill Sergeant, Sir!"

Sarah kept firing down range, watching her ammo counter tick down with every successful burst.

12.

9

6.

3.

Click.

An empty magazine plops into the mud, ready to be replaced by a clean, fresh one.

“Sir, AXIOS, sir!”

Odie said before continuing to plink away at the target.

6

5

4

3

2

“CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRING ON THE FIRING LINE!” A loud voice called out over the range.

"Great. Some dumbass probably shot themselves"

Were Sarah's first initial thoughts, which quickly narrowed down to two dumbass tards. "Fuckin Hoffman, probably."

She put her gun to safe, and stood to attention

Without even thinking Oliver dropped the mag and ejected the round from the chamber and placed the weapon on safe before joining Sarah at attention.

“LOOK AT THIS SHIT!” The Sergeant in charge of line said as he walked up and down it holding up a BR with a split and still smoking barrel.

“I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS SHIT! FUCKIN AMATEUR! THIS IS WHY YOU CLEAN YOUR FUCKING WEAPONS! NOW WE HAVE A CADET DOWN AND ANOTHER PIECE OF SHIT TO GET FIXED! THESE AINT YOUR GOD DAMN WEAPONS TO BREAK, GET YOUR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER! Y’ALL AINT SOME SHIT FOR BRAINS GROUP OF INNIES, ACT LIKE YOU ARE UNSC OR I SWEAR I WILL HAVE SUPPLY OUT OF BOOTS BECAUSE I PUT THEM ALL UP YOUR ASSES!”

Sarah swallowed, and with that her pride

"Sir, respectfully, Innies can't shoot for spit. We can, Sir."

She had to say something about them. Test what some of the Sergeants and Cadets actually thought about the still hot topic. At least she can back her words with the proof behind them. Let's just hope speaking out of line is excused for both of their excellent marksmanship.

“WHO SAID THAT!? WHO THE FUCK JUST SAID THAT!” The Sergeant said before whipping and walking back in Oliver and Sarah’s direction “Well well if it ain’t miss charity case, just cause you think y’all shoot good does not give you an excuse TO MOUTH OFF AT ATTENTION FUCK FACE!”

With that Odie’s Hans shot up. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT DANIELS!?” The Sergeant snapped as he turned to him. “Sir with all due respect, she does have a point. She’s the best shot in the company, sir.”

All this chatter and lack of gunfire infuriated the Range Sgt, who looked like he was just about ready to shit his pants. The still smoking rifle not doing him any good, either. He had overheard Daniel's praise of Oliver's shots, and simply didn't believe it; There's no way in hell the shortest Cadet in the platoon was the best shot.

"YOU, YOU SHORT LITTLE SHIT? YOU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD BARELY HOLD MY GODDAMNED SIDEARM!"

Speaking of said sidearm had given the Sergeant an idea.  Storming up to the recruit, he grabs his M6G, flips it, hands it to Sarah, and points to the 500m lane. He wasn't outright screaming now, but there was definitely rage, angst, and disbelief in his rough, dry voice

"Tell ya what, short-stack. You empty this entire magazine into the head of that target over there, and I just might let you and your Battle Buddy off the hook for my broken goddamn gun. Miss a single round, and I'll make sure this entire FUCKING platoon never forgets-"

Oh damn.

Odie's face remained neutral as his gut felt like it dropped. He knew Sarah was a good shot, but this would've been a tall order for even an experienced marksman, let alone a new cadet from the outer territories. "Aye Aye Sir." was all he said in response

Sarah gave a quick nod of responsibility, and took her NCO's sidearm

"Sir."

She made her way over to the 500m line, readied her position and steadied her aim. The safety flicks off her Magnum, simultaneously with the pit pats of light rain against its metallic bull-barreled hull. See, The Sergeant knew there was no goddamned way anybody was gonna make those shots, least not without any sort of Neural Implants for aim assist on the bigass pistol lacking iron sights. He thought Sarah wouldn't have any goddamn chance with a clunky, sightless M6 Magnum

 BLAM

 Fire spat from the hand cannon, and with it a spinning messenger of "Fuck this guy in particular." The targets head exploded like a damn watermelon. Sarah smirked, and the animatronic figure slammed to the ground, summoning another one just near it.

 BLAM

 He met the same fate as his comrade.

 BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM-

 Half of their piers nearly shat themselves at her unbelievable accuracy. It was borderline inhuman, targets would fall in perfect succession of each other.

 It sure was a good thing the Range Sergeant wanted Oliver to succeed in her endeavors, which is why he immediately ordered her go prone and fire with her belly-up, insisting in a somewhat elevated tone:

"YOU WILL NOT ALWAYS HAVE THE PRIVELEGE OF CHOOSING WHERE YOU WISH TO FIRE FROM, CADETS. YOU WILL LEARN THIS NOW AND IT JUST MIGHT SAVE YOUR PATHETIC FUCKING LIVES."

 She did as ordered, getting mud and shit in her hair and face. She steadied her right arm above her head, and held her forearm with her left. She could barely make out the dot on the other side of the lane. Closing in on her kill count, Sarah begins to pace her shots.

 BLAM

  BLAM

  BLAM

     BLAM.

All targets neutralized. She stood to her feet, flipped the M6 around, and handed the empty gun back to her superior.

"Sir... Done."

For once something made it through Daniel’s blank exterior, that thing being a smirk.

“Sir, I believe my point is proven, Sir.” He said in a completely neutral tone, he knew this entire act of rebellion was pushing it, sarcasm despite how much he wished to use, would most likely defeat all the hard work his battle buddy had put in.

"Jesus Mary Joseph..."

The Range Sgt looked over to Wrtezky, who returned a hidden face of pure and utter shock. He slowly grabbed the gun and stared at Sarah dead in the eyes. His words were calmer now than they'd ever heard

"That was the best fucking shooting I've seen in years."

"You two, Take your weapons to the armory, and then PROPERLY CLEAN THEM. No amount of divine intervention will save your ass if you don't clean my fucking rifles. Dismissed."

 "Sir."

She picked up her empty BR55, gave Odie a quick glance, and began her way to the armory.

 Sgt. Kozlov turned to the other Cadets, half of which were almost shivering.

"THE REST OF YOU SHIT-HEADS GET TO DO WHAT IT SEEMS THIS PLATOON WAS MADE TO DO. YOU FUCKERS GET SHITTER-DUTY FOR A MONTH!

Daniels followed quickly behind Oliver, silently celebrating his small victory in the safety of his head. Once the two were out of earshot Daniels piped up.

 “Excellent work out there Cadet Oliver, looks like we got second platoon out of shitter duty.”

 Oliver tapped on the side of his rifle which was kept a crisp low ready for the entirety of the walk back to the barracks

"Can it, kiss-ass. I don't need to hear the opinions of a bastard's son, and I don't need a brown nose to give me a gold star every god damn time I do what I do. Now please, shut the hell up."

 Her tone seemed somewhat disgusted and agitated, and her face had a similar look. She flipped her almost muddy bangs to the side, and sighed.

 "Whatever. C'mon, armory is east wing."

“No no listen here I have taken a lot of shit from you and just let it slide! If I hadn’t of said anything you would’ve just gotten yourself screwed even more!”

Something in Odie finally snapped, after weeks of staying quiet and taking whatever abuse Sarah would throw at him, he finally snapped.

“So what if my father is a piece of shit, hate to break it to you but. I AM NOT HIM!”

“You know what, fuck you bitch.”

Daniels said surprisingly calmly as something inside him finally broke, after all the abuse he suffered from Sarah in the weeks spent together. He calmly took the buttstock of his BR and slammed it hard into the back of Sarah’s head.

“How’s that for tough!”

"Ow, Vycher kotny piss da! -"

Or at least that's what Odie heard the stumbling girl say. Sarah held her head where the butt of the gun said hello for a brief moment, steadying herself. She shakes her head thrice or so, washing it off. Sarah then griped her rifle like a baseball bat and smashed it into the side of Odie's lower leg, sending him falling to the cold, hard ground. She raises the firearm above her head, as if to pummel the stock into his nose.

“Scheisse! Du Rotzlöffel Hurensohn!” Odie yelled as he reflexively kicked Sarah square in the groin and knocked her off balance, then using his other food to trip her. Through the pain in his leg he threw himself on top of Sarah and started to throw punches at her face. He didn’t want to knock her out, or incapacitate her like most people he caught, all he wanted to hurt her as much as possible.

Sarah was able to block a fair portion of the blows to her face, before tucking both of her flexible legs in between them and slipping a hidden blade from beneath her boot, giving Odie a pretty damn fairly painful but probably non-lethal gnash on his left abdomen as she kicked him away, before immediately jumping to her feet. She wiped a trail of blood coming from her nose, and spat out pink fuzz to the side.

"Sova i zmeya. You're outmatched."

“Ich bin der Adler!”

Odie’s anger and adrenaline outweighed the knife wound and all that was on his mind was making Sarah hurt. Odie charged and tackled her back down onto the stairs before grabbing the hand with the knife and continuing to pummel her face and kneeing her in the gut and groin. “Fuck you!”

She used her left hand to give Odie one hell of a deck on the chin, then immediately kicked him off again, sending him staggering back. She reached her arms behind her head, tucked in her legs, and then sprung both out, hopping to her feet. Whilst Odie was recovering, Sarah flipped the knife to it's blade, stuck her left hand in front of her, and was ready to throw. A stab from it's 6" blade could easily be fatal. Odie could almost feel his eyes dilating in "Oh shit." As her arm went back, a mysterious figure jumped from the shadows and tackled her to the ground, sending the knife flying to the grass. The figure shouted out in a voice Odie couldn't possibly forget.

 "FUCKING CRAZY BITCH-!"

 It was Hoffman, and behind him his battle buddy, some ginger chick named Christina Roads. Hoffman held his elbow at Sarah's neck, and had his right fist aimed and ready to pound in her face. He looked over to Daniels, who's entire left side was covered in blood. It looked worse than it was, for sure.

 "Jesus Chris- You okay dude?! Goddamnit, Christie! Get him to the Infirmary, NOW!"

 Hoffman gave Oliver one hell of a nasty look, and tightened his fist.

 "Give me a reason to get more involved, I swe-"

"Hoff, she needs medical attention too. Hitting her will get us both knee deep in shit just as much as them. You don't know what happened"

 The ginger's voice was almost raspy, kind of dry. Sarah smirked

 "I know what happened! This crazy bitch stabbed Odie! Uuuuugh, fine! Get up! Pull another trick and I'll break your kneecaps."

 Hoffman released Sarah, as she stood and wiped blood from her nose.

 "Thanks, hot stuff."

"Shut up."

"C'mon, Infirmary's this way..."

As he was escorted to the infirmary Daniel’s consciousnesses faded in and out as he quietly babbled nonsense in German interspersed with the occasional

“I fuckin had her.”

As soon as he made it inside, he finally blacked out

[buddaimond]

Robert, you’ve mentioned White Material as your entry into Claire’s films. What about it drew you to work with her? Were your impressions of how she worked with actors to inhabit their physicality and drop their self-consciousness accurate?

Robert Pattinson: When I watched White Material, it was on at two in the morning in Louisiana. I was shooting the last Twilight movie, and I had been asleep when I woke up, and the film had already started. It was really unusual for the film to be on that channel in the first place. And to wake up to it—it sort of felt like transitioning from being in a dream to being in the movie. I just remember the image of Isabelle Huppert holding onto the back of the truck. It’s just such a striking image. It’s weird, but it almost makes more sense now, to show the strength of her femininity. It’s not like she’s wearing armor trying to look like a guy, but she looks so powerful as her skirt blows up in the wind behind her. You could see there was something going wrong, but the expression on her face—you know immediately that she’s a dynamo. I just love that performance.

I remember sending an email to my agent that night at four in the morning saying that Claire Denis is “the one.” I talked to someone else, and they were like, “Claire has done loads of movies, what are you talking about?” But there was something about it that felt new. There was something about it, the performances first, that made it feel like it had to be made. That’s what I look for in directors.

Do either of you see any similarities between Maria Vial in White Material and Monte in High Life? They both hold onto their bodily autonomy and space with such intensity.

Claire Denis: They both have a child!

Pattinson: I guess there’s an autonomous thing where they make themselves exist in a slightly separate reality to everyone else around them. I think Maria is more connected with her environment. They definitely have something slightly missing. I was looking at this thing yesterday, giant wave surfers in Nazaré, these Portuguese surfers. These guys surf 150-foot waves. I saw one interview with a guy, who’s got a four-year-old son and a girlfriend, where they’re looking at these waves the size of mountains, and he’s like, “It looks like a good surf today!” And his son is looking at him. Some of these people have completely different mental setups. It’s exciting to see something which is like, “You’re gonna die.” Sorry, that’s not particularly relevant!

Denis: No, it’s not irrelevant! I’m interested in people who surf. I’ve seen one of these waves, in Tahiti. I saw it for real and thought, “How could people believe without doubt that that’s a great thing to do?”

Pattinson: It’s insane!

Denis: I was so amazed. They were there waiting, and they looked sane. They didn’t look crazy, you know? They looked excited, happy. So, I think you have to be like—I think Isabelle, if she would have decided to be a surfer, she would have been a crazy surfer! She’s really enjoying a certain type of danger, you know? As opposed to her, Monte decides not to stay in jail, to take this offer and mission to be left in peace. Just to be, I don’t know, maybe he has some hope. But it’s not only a question of hope. It’s a question of “will I be better there than this horrible corridor.” It’s not exactly the same heroic person, I don’t think, but maybe the same craziness. No, I think Maria is more crazy. She’s really completely crazy.

The role of Monte was originally envisioned for someone older, perhaps even Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Denis: Yeah, but I never asked him. I had someone in mind who was a little bit tired like him. But, of course, I never asked him. It was just an image for me when I was writing the script, you know?

Pattinson: There’s this thing where, when we were talking about Monte, there’s something about him where if it was an older guy, you reactively become someone who has nothing to live for. But I think Monte is trying, forcing his life to be the same every day. He’s like, “I want to wake up and feel nothing. Figuring out how to get rid of anything that is alive, basically. Alive in me, anything which can feel alive.”

Denis: But it’s really something like a Tibetan monk to get there. To this place where you need nothing.

Pattinson: Yeah, like the “chastity over indulgence” line.

Did the role move more toward Robert, or did he adapt himself to play someone who fit the character as written?

Pattinson: Toward me as a person? I’m definitely indulgence over chastity! [laughs]

Denis: You changed immediately, I think.

Pattinson: I remember being in my hotel room—my weird hotel room that looked like a strip club with these weird green lights in the bathroom—not really knowing what I was doing at the time and not thinking of my lines. I have these weird videos on my phone where I’m trying to manipulate my body into strange shapes. Maybe it was just a completely random thing, but I think Monte is trying to get some kind of control over his body, so I wanted to dig inside myself or something. As soon as we got on set and did the lighting test, it was almost immediate: I knew there was something with the costume that made me want to do a sort of boxy thing. I wanted it to feel heavy. In the first test, I realized there was a different way to my walking.

Denis: I saw you change. I saw you transform. I didn’t understand how you were working, but I saw how different you were when we started shooting. I remember the scene where you’re shaving. That was something that came from you. And I liked that so much.

So for you there was more of a physical entry point into the character as opposed to a more emotional and psychological one?

Pattinson: [hesitates] I wanted to do the shaving where he didn’t want to have any hair. And I wanted to convey this constant fear of people touching me or having any kind of physical contact with me, of retreating inside myself. So, I guess it was a physical thing. I wanted to feel alien even to myself. You’re looking to play things in a way that don’t make sense to you.

Claire, given the frequency with which you portrayed post-colonial Africa, did space hold any of that same fascination for you given the long history of nationalistic conquest over the world above and around us, the way a wealthy society exploits marginalized people to have boundless resources?

Denis: Yeah, probably. I say “probably” because I do want to express things I feel, but I’m not a professional activist. I think I’m a very naïve person, honestly. No, it’s true! [laughs] I believe in one thing, and I try and translate that into film.

High Life ends on a moment that felt, at least to me, similar to Beau Travail in the way that they seem to exist in a totally separate plane of time and space from the rest of the film. Claire, what draws you to these fleeting final moments?

Denis: It comes from a different place. The ending of Beau Travail was in the script, of him with the gun and laying down on the bed. It’s his death, you know? He’s committing suicide. And the dance scene is from before, when he was leaving Djibouti. But when we were in the editing room, I thought, “I can’t finish like that, it’s too sad. I want him to be somewhere in another world dancing forever.” So we changed it. And in High Life, I thought they were going somewhere, and that somewhere was mysterious—a place nobody has been before. But it doesn’t mean to me that they’re dying. They’re reaching a place no one has been before. When Monte says to his daughter, “Shall we?,” to me it doesn’t mean “Shall we die?”

Pattinson: “Shall we?” is what you ask when you’re about to dance with someone.

Denis: Exactly.

[lookinghbo]

'Looking' Made Raúl Castillo A Sex Symbol. Sheer Force Made Him A Star.

In New York, in the middle of July, if the fickle subway system allows it, you’d be wise to arrive at a destination 10 minutes early. You’ll need that time to let the sweat evaporate, to stamp out the damp spots that have betrayed your outfit.

Raúl Castillo forfeited his chance to cool down before shaking my hand at a Manhattan hotel restaurant on a sweltering Thursday morning. I didn’t mind. It was an honest mistake.

The “Looking” star was running slightly late and looking slightly frazzled when he bounded toward our table. He’d confused this hotel for another within walking distance where, the previous night, Castillo had attended a screening of the new Alexander McQueen documentary with his girlfriend, the costume designer Alexis Forte, who has the late fashion maverick’s biography at their Brooklyn apartment.

It’s cute to see celebrities frayed, even ones who are still building their marquee value. Castillo is the type who hasn’t yet abandoned public transportation when navigating the city, even though it’s becoming harder to do so without attracting strangers’ gazes. While trekking home from the “McQueen” event, a Latina teenager tapped him to say she loved “Atypical,” the Netflix series in which Castillo played a charismatic bartender sleeping with Jennifer Jason Leigh’s married character. The teenager’s mother loved “Seven Seconds,” the Netflix series in which Castillo played a narcotics detective tending to a racially charged investigation.

Raúl Castillo: a guy you can bring home to Mom, punctual or otherwise.

It’s his voice that people recognize, the 40-year-old actor said, a modest notion considering his breakthrough role as the sensitive barber Richie on “Looking” made Castillo a veritable heartthrob, despite the HBO show’s modest ratings. But it’s true that his warm baritone gravel is a distinguishing trait. Earlier this year, when I saw “Unsane,” Steven Soderbergh’s scrappy iPhone thriller set inside a mental institution, I recognized Castillo’s intonation before his face appeared onscreen.

That’s a significant feat. Castillo mumbled so much as an adolescent that a teacher recommended he see a speech therapist. He refused, instead reminding himself to enunciate or else using the impediment as a defense mechanism. “I have all these things wrong with my voice,” Castillo said, though few today would agree.

Castillo’s cadence may be growing familiar, but fame hardly seems like his long game. This is, after all, a guy who studied playwriting ― hardly the creative pursuit that commands the brightest spotlight ― at Boston University, after which he paid about $300 a month to live in a garage in Austin and perform local Chicano theater. “We the Animals,” a Sundance indie opening this weekend, marks the first time Castillo is the one generating a project’s star power. He portrays the father of three tight-knit boys storming through a wooded town in upstate New York. The movie, adapted from Justin Torres’ autobiographical novel of the same name, combines elements of “Beasts of the Southern Wild” and “Moonlight” to capture a domestic home life that’s equal parts tender and volatile, where abuse and affection are equally common.

Castillo’s enthusiasm about “We the Animals,” and about the possibly of again working with its director, Jeremiah Zagar (“Captivated: The Trials of Pamela Smart”), speaks to his ambivalence toward the celebrity ecosystem.

“He could be like Tom Cruise without the child slavery,” Zagar said, roasting the “Mission: Impossible” moneymaker’s Scientology association (and its alleged history of forced manual labor). “Raúl’s that kind of a dude. He’s a perfect-looking dude, and yet he’s incredibly real and honest and true. There’s never a false note. He’s also incredibly collaborative. As a director, that’s a wonderful thing. I didn’t know what I was doing, really, because I had never directed a narrative before, and Raúl had a way of making me feel comfortable and confident in my own beliefs and my own material. He’s so seasoned and so clear about what he needs to do to make a scene work and a character work and to elevate other people around him.”

It’s a small movie with grainy aesthetics and an impressionistic lyricism ― in no way the kind of thing that will make a killing at the box office. For someone who first fell in love with theater by discovering the plays of Puerto Rican and Mexican writers like Miguel Piñero and Luis Valdez in his high school library, playing the complicated patriarch of a mixed-race family feels like a destiny fulfilled. (Sheila Vand, star of the Iranian horror gem “A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night,” plays Castillo’s wife.) At this point, opportunities to extend his commercial footprint ― guest spots as a cannibal on “Gotham” and a music teacher on “Riverdale,” for example ― will find Castillo one way or another.

“I’ve always felt that I was never cookie-cutter,” he said. “For as much as I tried to fit my square peg into round holes, constantly, my whole career, I could never do it. Whenever I read ‘We the Animals,’ I didn’t think I would be cast in that film. [...] I felt viewed more as a Richie. People think I tend to find those roles easier than I do a role like this, ’cause it’s harsh. I knew that I could do it. I’m so grateful for both Jeremiah and Justin, who did see that in me.”

Born in McAllen, Texas, a midsize agricultural town that sits on the Mexican border, Castillo’s triumphs were born out of people believing in him at the exact right moments. He belongs to a first-generation immigrant family, even if home was a mere 10 miles down the road. Castillo didn’t feel othered, but his dual identity instilled a sort of anti-establishment fluster.

“I just saw a lot of bullshit in the structures that were established for me,” he said. “I found a lot of hypocrisies. People valued money, and I think when I was very young, I valued money and I didn’t have it. I think I hated myself for it.”

Slowly shedding the Catholic mysticism that once awed him, he took up bass and played in punk bands. When his friend Tanya Saracho, who would go on to write for “Looking” and “How to Get Away with Murder,” likened his GPA to a lifeline out of McAllen, Castillo decided to care about school. But in Boston, he was suddenly the minority. His “bad attitude” kept him out of second-year acting courses, until mentorship from a professor of color let Castillo understand that he shouldn’t punish himself for being subjected to an overwhelmingly white institution. And when he moved to New York in 2002, his pal Mando Alvarado, now a writer for “Greenleaf” and “Vida” (on which Castillo will soon appear), posited presentation as a mark of self-worth; if he didn’t put care into his résumé and headshot, why should anyone put care into hiring him?

Of course, when success takes years to manifest, it’s easy to forget the lessons you’ve learned. Living with four or five roommates at once, Castillo worked his way into the Labyrinth Theater Company, an experimental off-Broadway troupe founded by Philip Seymour Hoffman and John Ortiz. He still wanted to be a writer ― in high school, Castillo only ever acted to impress girls anyway ― but in 2006 he found himself starring in a Labyrinth production of “School of the Americas,” a play by “Motorcycle Diaries” scribe José Rivera. The acting bug stuck. In 2009, his play “Knives and Other Sharp Objects,” a multigenerational drama about class in Texas, opened off-Broadway, earning a mixed review from The New York Times.

Still, nothing quite lasted. The business side of things was grueling, and his coffee-shop gigs were getting old, even if he did count Lili Taylor and RuPaul as customers. An agent sent him on auditions for “huge” Hollywood movies ― which ones, Castillo wouldn’t say ― but dropped him after none proved fruitful. He was ready to give up altogether when “Looking” came around. Castillo had starred in the short film that became a prototype for the series. Its director, Michael Lannan, called him to audition for Richie (the character he’d initially played) and Augustin (a more prominent Latino character who worked as an artist’s assistant). He didn’t land either role, even though he’d originated one of them.

But by the time “Looking” was a week away from shooting, a Richie still hadn’t been cast. The producers called Castillo to read for Andrew Haigh, the gifted English director who shepherded the half-hour dramedy. Haigh had seen Castillo in an indie mystery called “Cold Weather” that gave him “street cred.” Crashing on John Ortiz’s couch in Hell’s Kitchen, wondering what else he could do with his life, Castillo was at a bar one night when he received an email with a contract attached. He had no representation to negotiate his salary, but it didn’t matter: After living check to check, he was on HBO.

“I was like, ‘Yes. Take my soul. I don’t care. Pay me. I need money,’” Castillo recalled. “I needed not just a paycheck but the affirmation. I needed something artistically that I could sink my teeth into that had value to it. Something that was substantial. Something that had a real point of view. I needed a character that gave me a platform to do what I do in a really great scale in the best way possible. And it ended up being that. That show was such a great gift to me.”

All of Castillo’s ensuing fortune can be linked to “Looking.” It made him a sex symbol, a love interest, a fan favorite, a rising star whose claim to fame meant a great deal to anyone hungry for frank depictions of queer intimacy. Richie was the good-natured, self-righteous ideal ― a perfect counterpoint for Patrick (Jonathan Groff), the series’ unsettled protagonist. It became gay viewers’ great disappointment when they learned that Castillo, their anointed hunk, was in fact straight.

“His inability to be fake as a person translates directly into his acting,” Groff said. “There is nothing extraneous or false about Raúl, and he brought a grounded, honest integrity to the character that absolutely no one else could have. He’s also just innately magic on screen and has that ‘it’ factor.”

Perhaps it was Castillo’s dual identity as a Mexican-American that helped him shine as a gay, blue-collar Californian who was sure of himself despite being rejected by his family. It’s certainly what lets him shine as the cash-strapped paterfamilias, caught between unremitting love for his kin and an inescapable pattern of violence, in “We the Animals.” This dyad comes at time when Castillo sees his identity splashed across the evening news.

McAllen houses the U.S. Border Patrol’s busiest hub for detaining immigrants suspected of entering the country illegally. While Castillo was vacationing in Europe and playing make-believe on sets, children were being ripped from their parents’ arms in his hometown.

“I would always have to explain where McAllen was, and now it’s this name you’re seeing constantly in the news for all these reasons that represent, for me, everything that’s wrong with this country,” Castillo said. “It was paralyzing. I was sitting in a beach in Europe, wondering why I deserved to be there. My parents had access to this country in ways that people who are coming from longer distances don’t. We had the great gift of citizenship, which is an incredible privilege. But my parents were immigrants, and they navigated that dynamic our entire lives. I saw my mom and my dad deal with all the insecurities and all the precarious nature of what being an immigrant in this country is. [...] Having grown up going back and forth across the border throughout my whole life, it’s disheartening and upsetting to see what’s happening. And then to think about this particular movie that deals with children, who are especially in that age when their minds are being formed and their view of the world is taking shape, to think about [the ones] locked in cages is enraging.”

Castillo may be miles from that crisis now, but he’s done more to better the world for brown people than he can know. His goal hasn’t been to diversity Hollywood roles written for white ensembles; it’s been to find work that naturally accentuates the grooves of his Latino heritage. He saw almost no Chicano role models in popular culture growing up, and now he is writing and starring in artistic endeavors that paint all shades of the human experience ― gay, poor, brown, cannibalistic, whatever ― with a dynamic brush.

Which isn’t to say everything’s gotten easy. He was slated to play the lead in “Mix Tape” (a musical drama set in Los Angeles) and appear on “One Day at a Time” (the Norman Lear reboot), but has since exited both series and would rather not disclose why. I got the sense, during our two-hour breakfast, that Castillo is still protective of how he is perceived. Maybe he always will be. He’s comfortable reflecting on his upbringing and his relationship with race ― concepts he’s spent his whole life processing ― but being candid about recent setbacks, as routinely asked of celebrities in interviews, does not yet come easy.

It’s the “ego business bullshit” that still eats at him. It’s what eats at most of us. But when someone makes a name for himself, that burden slowly fades to the periphery, replaced by a newfound comfort, even power. The man who once served RuPaul coffee now shares an agent with the drag dignitary.

“For so long, it was all feast or famine,” Castillo said. “I just took work when I could take it. And at this point, I’m in a new place where I want to be more thoughtful about the roles that I take on from here on out. The projects, the roles, the people. I’ve learned so much in the journey that now I want to apply all that and also honor my experience, because at this point I want to work with people who challenge me in all the right ways and push me to become a better actor and a better artist.”

[kootenaygoon]

So,

We were supposed to be having sushi.

Paisley’s mother was in Nelson for a visit, and we’d strolled down to Baker Street on a breezy summer evening in June 2015 to find a whole section of Ward cordoned off. Firefighters were congregating around a nearby alley, behind Touchstones Museum, and police cruisers were strategically parked to block traffic at either end of the block. On the opposite side of the street was a small crowd of gawkers standing outside the Hume Hotel. I’d just gotten off work, and I’d been looking forward to sushi all day, but there was no way I could keep walking and pretend I hadn’t seen this.

“You guys get started, I just need to figure out what’s going on, okay? It’ll take me like 20 minutes, tops. This could actually be a big story for the Friday edition,” I said, giving Paisley a quick kiss. 

“I’ll be there before you’re even finished your miso soup.”

When I got down to the corner I shook hands with Josh Hoffman, one of the local radio reporters. I asked him what was going on and he explained that some guy had terrorized his girlfriend, torn apart her apartment and was now throwing shit out the window into the alley. She had successfully extricated herself, thankfully, but now he was menacing the cops with a cleaver and threatening to throw himself out the fifth-storey window. Josh pulled out his camera and showed me the photos he’d taken, the last time the dude poked his head out. There was blood running down his chin, his eyes were wild, and he looked like a horror movie villain. He was also approximately my age, a regular-looking blonde guy in his early 30s. If the universe was sending me signs, then this one was was a little on the nose. 

“He was laughing and pointing at people, man. Like the Joker or something,” Josh said. “Creepy shit.”

I thanked Josh and jogged across town to the Nelson Star office to retrieve my camera, taking a moment to screw on my zoom lens, then called Greg on my cell while I power-walked back to the scene. Up until this point the Star had published multiple stories about the mental health crisis, as the NPD continued to call it, but I hadn’t been able to write about a specific example. This was my chance to illustrate what Wayne Holland had told me about, to make people see the immediacy and urgency of the issue. That being said, I knew Paisley would be pissed if I didn’t get back to dinner quickly. Her Mom had flown all the way from Nova Scotia to see us and so far I’d been busy nearly every day with work. It didn’t matter if this random dude was about to commit very public suicide, because I couldn’t change the outcome one way or the other. I imagined her sitting there with the menu, wishing I could just call the cops in the morning. But I was too addicted to the rush, the drama, the adrenaline of a breaking story. 

I’d never felt better suited to a task.

“So they have him barricaded in the room, and he’s completely in the dark because they cut off power to the whole building,” I told Greg, recounting what I’d heard from Josh. 

“They’ve got negotiators there now, trying to talk him down. They know he has that meat cleaver but they don’t know what else he might have.”

“And when did this all start?”

“I think it’s been about four hours now. Like it started with this big domestic dispute and then this dude just lost his shit. Word is he’s violating a court order.”

“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t jump.”

As I neared the spot again, I reflected on how this darkness could exist amidst such incredible beauty. Elephant Mountain remained omnipresent to my right, it’s trees glowing in the late evening sun. There were faded phantom signs on the heritage buildings and people were noisily enjoying patio time with a view that stretched out to the Big Orange Bridge. Beers clinked. Around town there were a number of mural projects going on, and my favourite was a collaborative art wall that changed every few months. Its latest iteration was a cyborg lobster that was harvesting bunnies to turn into slippers. It had been created by an artist named Coleman Webb, along with help from others, and I used it as a cover photo for the Star one week. To me it illustrated the rollicking chaos of the Kootenays, with bright vivid colours, but it also hinted at some of its shadowy elements too. Who could save us from the lobster menace? All around us were people that were taking things too far, that were getting lost in the intellectual jungles of drug addiction and mental illness. And who was there to catch these people, when they careened off the deep end? Who was going to intervene?

“Has he poked his head out again?” I asked Josh.

“Yeah, he’s putting on a real show now. I think he likes the attention. He keeps yelling at us, but I can’t hear him.”

“What’re the cops doing? Did they set up mats under his window or something?”

“It looks like they’re taking the firetruck ladder. I don’t know if they’re going to rush the place or what.”

I spotted Fire Chief Len MacCharles, who had also been at Ryan Tapp’s death scene. This was turning out to be a grim gig for him. He shouted orders, pointing and gesturing. It was just starting to get dark, and the red brake lights gave everything a hellish glow. I found a good angle on the balcony of the Hume, and my shutter clicked multiple times as the guy re-emerged swaying, his arms locked on the windowsill. Blood dripped from his chin to his chest, leaving little crimson spots below his collarbone. His eyes rolled around in his head, then suddenly they focused. He shouted wildly. His eyes scanned the alley past the firefighters and down to the small crowd in front of where I was situated. Then he saw me, with the camera, and grinned. He lifted his shaky arm and pointed right at me. He was on the other side of the lens, but I still felt his gaze. Goosebumps erupted down my arms.

“It was like he was trying to tell me something, like he was coming back from the future to warn me,” I told Paisley later that night, while we walked the dogs around the school playground.

“It was like he was saying: you next.”

Paisley scoffed. “Don’t say that. That’s ridiculous.”

We were sneaking a joint before going to bed, which was breaking the promise we’d made to each other that we wouldn’t smoke while her mother was in town. I loved Paisley’s mother, and trusted her deeply, but the flip-side of that was that she always knew more about my life and my secrets than I was comfortable with. She was a tough, ultra-discerning nurse who was intent on providing the best life possible for her daughter, and that meant making sure she regularly participated in boyfriend maintenance. She schooled me on how to properly act as a partner, correcting any missteps or faux pas. She’d held our hands through multiple near-breakups, acting as a mediator. Whenever she visited she bought us groceries, took us shopping for housing decorations, and sat delighted in the passenger seat while we took road trips into the countryside. The one down-side was her fervent anti-pot attitude, which necessitated covert moments such as these.

We stood in the moonlight while Muppet and Buster ran laps of the field, bounding along in pace with each other. One light, the other dark. Smoke tendrils rose towards the buzzing security light, then up into the darkness.

“So what happened with the guy, then? How did it all end?” Paisley asked, taking a toke.

“He took a run for the window and jumped right out, but somehow I guess he ended up hanging by his fingertips from the window frame. So the cops rushed the room and they grabbed him while he was dangling there. They were able to drag him back inside.��

She passed me the joint. “By his fingers? Holy shit.”

The Kootenay Goon

[bixgirl1]

Five Books

Tagged by @julcheninredand @writcraft to list five books that made a deep impression on me at different points in my life. Not necessarily your top five favourite books ever, nor even books you’d recommend to someone else now, but five books that were important at the time, whether you loved them or hated them.

Thank you, guys! (Also, I hate this because I have like 70k books and it made me cry that I couldn’t pick all of them. *snort*)

Taking a cue from Writcraft and going into detail under the cut because it gets long. lol 

In no particular order:

1. Phantom – Susan Kay 2. Written on the Body – Jeanette Winterson 3. The Harry Potter series – JK Rowling 4. Firestarter – Stephen King 5. The Captive Prince series – C.S. Pacat

Honourable mentions (don’t huff at me, you guys asked me about books! Just be glad this list isn’t 200 deep lol):

Shopgirl – Steve Martin Bastard Out of Carolina – Dorothy Allison Second Nature, and Practical Magic –  Alice Hoffman The Stand, and Carrie – Stephen King Charlotte’s Web – E.B. White The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks – Rebecca Skloot

Notes on the top five below the cut:

1. Phantom, by Susan Kay

“She wanted an Angel of Music . . . an angel who would make her believe in herself at last. I'd been the Angel of Doom for the khanum. There was no reason in the world why I could not be the Angel of Music for Christine. I couldn't hope to be a man to her, I couldn't ever be a real, breathing, living man waking at her side and reaching out for her . . . But I could be her angel.”

This book. God, this book, guys. I’ve read most of the books on my list more times than I can count, but I may have read this one the most. Told from different perspectives (Erik, his mother, his mentor, his friend, Christine, and Raoul), it follows the story The Phantom of the Opera, from birth to postmortem. It shows humanity at its ugliest and most broken, and the heights it can achieve, and does it all surrounding this one brilliant, exceptional man who eventually descends into madness over his love for someone he knows he can’t have. But it’s a redemption story, too, and so bittersweet I can’t, to this day, read it without crying and feeling immensely satisfied. Erik is the perfect anti-hero — maligned at first for something he can’t help, and then later for what people have turned him into, but nearly always sympathized with, and loved by the reader. Until reading this book when I was, I think, twelve or thirteen, I didn’t know writers could do that, tbh.

 2. Written on the Body, by Jeanette Winterson

“When I say ‘I will be true to you’ I am drawing a quiet space beyond the reach of other desires.”

I cannot stress what an impact this book had on me. I first picked it up because I’d read a book of Winterson’s short stories (The World and Other Places) and I thought she had a really cool style and wanted to read more. She lived up to her short stories in style, of course, but what really blew me away about WntB — what really stole my heart and made me think — was that she wrote it in such a way that you never know if the narrator is male or female. I was around sixteen when I first read this, and still heavily involved in the church, and struggling with being attracted to girls as well as boys, and when I read this, the narrator was wholly female to me. I was reading lesbian love affair. I was stirred by it. When I think about the things that have influenced my coming to terms with my bisexuality, with me accepting who I was (though it took me longer to accept that it was okay to be who I was), this book is definitely on that list.

It’s also gorgeous, like everything she writes, so there’s that.

 3. The Harry Potter Series, by JK Rowling

“Harry saw Voldemort's green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hands, staring down at his enemy's shell.”

 I feel like this one doesn’t really need much explanation behind it. Lol. But I will say that I came into the HP series a few books in, around the time the first movie came out, and I was in an odd place in my life at the time. I was…listless. I’d always been a big reader, but it had been a long while since something had so captured my attention and focus, or had riveted me with its world building in such a way. I fell in absolute love with Harry, with the surrounding characters, with the social and moral parallels drawn. I kept asking myself “this is a kids series?!” There are things, in retrospect, that one can criticise about the Harry Potter series, plenty of valid problems to discuss and deconstruct. But I will never not be loyal to it, for its creativity, for its surprising depth, and for its heart.

 4. Firestarter, by Stephen King

“It was amazing how time got by, how quickly a child could change, change in front of your eyes with an unobtrusiveness that was nearly terrible.”

Many apologies to @julcheninred because I know this one was on your list too, but Firestarter meant so much to me as a kid. I dove into King’s depiction of Charlie, and the simplicity of the writing and plot blended with the complexity of the characters and their relationships. I loved the idea of a young girl with so much power — frightening and potentially deadly, but hers. And though I was too young, when I first fell in love with this book, to understand the (actually pretty overt lol) sexual metaphors, I didn’t need to. It’s not a book that requires you to figure everything out while you’re on the ride — it’s a book that makes you want to, even if that means reading it a hundred times and wearing out several copies. (Which, ahem, I may have done.)

 5. The Captive Prince series, by C.S. Pacat

“He thought of Laurent's delicate, needling talk that froze into icy rebuff if Damen pushed at it, but if he didn't--if he matched himself to its subtle pulses and undercurrents--continued, sweetly deepening, until he could only wonder if he knew, if they both knew, what they were doing.” (Book Two: Prince’s Gambit)

Okay, I know I blog a lot about this series and as a drarry shipper/writer/blogger, it’s easy to assume my reasons. And to be fair, drarry is what initially attracted me to the series. It was first recced to me by @magpiefngrl, then by @l0vegl0wsinthedark and @o0o-chibaken-o0o (thank you guys!!!!!!!) and finally I was so wound up about by them that I checked Amazon for a sample. Upon reading it, I immediately ordered copies, then read all three books online while I waited for the books to be shipped, they’re that good.

And I found it’s not about the similarities to drarry. (There are a few, but only in the most basic of ways.) It’s about the writing, which is so beautifully taut, I genuinely doubt I’ve read anything like it before. It’s about the characters, who are sharp and perfect in their imperfections, and dialogue and tension and subtly intricate plotting that thrills me anew every time I read it. It’s about a love story that feels fantastical and wildly relatable, a happily ever after that you need — and get, like a stunningly wrapped gift you never expected. The way Pacat manages to pivot an arguably hated and hate-worthy character into someone you would give your life for reads like a dream, and I’m not exaggerating when I say these books changed things in me. Maybe all small — an appreciation for simplicity in writing; a jadedness that seems to surface sometimes about my ability to immerse myself in a story — but all fundamental, and all appreciated to my bones.

Idk who’s been tagged so my apologies in advance, but @jadepresley  , @lqtraintracks, @camael-fanart, @femmequixotic, @noeeon, @o0o-chibaken-o0o @agentmoppet and anyone else who wants to partake!  <3

[thepeacetea]

Broken Angels Ch. 6

Hi everyone! I can’t believe I’m on chapter 6 already! Your guys support has been the lifeblood of this story. I could not have written this without your support. I’m really glad you liked the last chapter. I thought the story could use a little bit of sweetness. I tried tagging everyone, though some of them Tumblr is saying aren’t real accounts so I apologize for that. Anyways, here is the next installment of Broken Angels. Again, if you have any comments, suggestion, or question, please let me know. While I may not answer many of them, I do read them all. Anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy! Peace!

In all his years of service, Gordon had never met someone as infuriating as this woman. When they had finally gotten in contact with Marinette’s teacher, Gordon expected them to at the very least sound concerned. Maybe a little worried. This was Gotham. Gotham! And they had lost one of their students. That would be reason for anyone to panic. But this . . . this woman barley batted an eye. She didn’t even come down to the station as soon as she got called, and when she did show, she brought what looked like her entire class.

“Let me get this straight. Marinette, got into a fight with one of your other student. She destroyed said student’s property and was about to get physical with her. So the rest of the class defended said student, which resulted in Marinette’s injuries. After that fact, she ran, nearly got hit by a truck, and ended up here. Is that what you’re saying?” Gordon asked, forcing his tone to remain professional. The teacher, Bustier, nodded, opening her mouth to say something, but Gordon cut her off. “And you saw this happen and did nothing?”

The teacher seemed a little taken back by the question, no, the accusation. Her face quickly becoming annoyed.

“I was at the front desk at the time, fixing some last minute changes. I heard the commotion, but when I got there, Marinette was already gone. The entire class described what happened, and their stories collaborated. Marinette has a . . . tendency to draw attention to herself. She’s disappeared multiple times on numerous trips. This is just another case of that.” She informed him, and Gordon caught the underlying sharp edge to her tone.

“And you didn’t think of reporting it? Ma’am, this is Gotham. I don’t even what to think what could have happened if we didn’t find her.” Gordon asked, his voice rising minutely. ‘You would’ve had a casualty on your hands,’ was unsaid but everyone in the station heard it. At least the personal did.

“Of course I reported it, I’m not inept. As soon as I learned what happened, I reported it to the school, like always. But as I said, Marinette had done this before and I couldn’t leave my other students alone. Hopefully this will teacher her not to run away.” Bustier said. “Now, I want to get my students back to the hotel. So if you could get Marinette for me, we’ll be on our way. And if you have any more questions, talk to the embassy.”

“. . . Officer Hill will come by with the paper work you need to sign for Marinette’s release. I’ll get her and you can pick up her items at the front desk.” Gordon said, his tone dropping in temperature as he rose, motioning Hill over.

He had wanted to question that teacher more, but she pulled the embassy card. She knew her rights and she wasn’t afraid to use them, and that didn’t sit right. If things happened the way she said, then she would have never pulled that card. No one in the class bore any signs of bullying. They all had been chatting rather loudly in French, so he couldn’t quiet understand what they were saying, but he did get a sense of self-righteousness. He did not like it.

Halting in front of the door, Gordon took a few, deep, calming breaths. The last thing he needed was for Marinette to see him riled. Opening the door, he was greeted with the sight of Marinette trying to teach Spencer proper techniques of drawing. Though most of the papers surround the duo were of very badly drawn stickmen. But she was smiling, looking more content then Gordon had seen her all day, chattering away softly in French. The sight brought a bitter smile to his face. This kid didn’t deserve anything that was happening to her. He just prayed that they could find a loophole for them to investigate. They just needed that loophole.

“Marinette, your teacher’s here to take you back.”

As Gordon spoke, he watched her closely, looking for any signs of anything. The small curl of her shoulders, the slow darkening of her blue eyes as the happiness was replaced by resignation, the way she seemed to shut herself off. Gordon knew it had something to do with the teacher or the class and he felt bile rise at the thought of turning this sweet little girl over to them. But at the moment, his hands were tied.

She slowly rose, arranging the papers and putting them into neat piles, obviously staling for time. Before they left the room, Gordon gently put his hand on her shoulder, catching her attention. He felt his heart constrict at the sight of her large eyes looking up at him questioningly, her one red eye fanning his growing anger. Rummaging through his pockets, Gordon pulled out a card, handing it to her.

“Marinette, listen. If you are in any trouble, or you don’t feel safe, or if anything happens, call this number. Call this number and I will get there as fast as I can. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, ok. Just promise me you’ll call. Ok?” Gordon spoke slowly, giving Spencer time to translate without rushing.

Marinette went to grab the offered card, only to pull her hand up short, hesitation shining in her eyes. Gordon didn’t push it on her, he just continued to hold it out to her, silently offering the lifeline. Her eyes searching his, looking for something. After a few moments, she seemed to find it. Taking the card, she slipped it into her pocket, hiding it from the world. Smiling at her, Gordon turned to lead her out, but was stopped by a small tug on his sleeve. Turning around, he found Marinette gripping his cuff, her eyes glued to the ground.

“Thank you.” She whispered in flawless English, her voice carrying the familiar Gotham accent. So she hadn’t lost it after all.

“Marinette, I want you to know that we, that I’m on your side. Alright. I’ll believe you.” Gordon assured her, giving her an encouraging smile. The next thing he knew, he had his arms full again. The hug was quick, like she was afraid of crossing a line. When she pulled away, Gordon watched as she took a shaky breath before giving a swift nod. Leading her back to the main office, he gave her shoulder one last squeeze of comfort before they came into view of her classmate’s.

As soon as they entered the room, the chatter ceased. Most of the officers knew of her injuries, but hadn’t actually seen the extent of them. When the class finally saw her, Gordon couldn’t quiet tell what they were thinking. Whatever it was, was quickly discussed on French. He heard Marinette’s name mentions multiple times, but it didn’t appear like they were addressing her. When her teacher caught a look at Marinette, her face went sour. Rapid fire French flew out of Bustier, though none of seemed out of concern. It sounded disappointed, like she was reprimanding her. The more she talked, the more Marinette seemed to shrink, her eyes never leaving the ground.

Gordon caught Spencer’s eyes, who had come in behind them, and they flashed in shock before turning angry. Silencing Spencer before he could speak, Gordon shook his head, signaling they would talk later.

“Ms. Bustier, it’s late and I believe you said you wanted to get you class back to the hotel.” Gordon stated, pulling the red haired teacher’s attention away from Marinette for the time being.

“I did, thank you. Marinette, go get your things. Everyone else, head out and wait by the bus.” She ordered, corralling the other students outside, leaving Marinette in the station to gather what little belongings she had from the front. As she was leaving, Gordon called out one last time.

“Marinette.”

Turning, she met Gordon’s eyes for the last time that night. The contrast of the blue and red created a haunting picture.

“Stay safe, kid.”

A small smile light up her face as she nodded. Waving to all the personal in the office, Marinette disappeared through the GCPD doors, but somehow, everyone felt that wouldn’t be the last time they saw her enter or exit through those door.

“Why didn’t let me say anything?”

Spencer’s question came before the doors finished closing behind her.

“They all assumed we couldn’t understand French. That would have caused them to be more loose with what they said. Now what did they say?”

“. . . I couldn’t quiet hear what her classmates where saying it was too quiet. But what I could make out was them saying that the bruising suited her and she doing it for attention and they should have done more. And the teacher, she was saying that she expected more from Marinette. That she was setting a bad example for the rest of the class. That she needed to apologize to ‘Lila’ and that she would be informing her parents.” Spencer said, one hand making gestures while the other was running through his hair.

“Hmm. Hill, call GNN. Tell them they can run the story. Videos included, just no names.”

“Commissioner?”

“Marinette’s from Gotham. Somebody is bound to know her. If we can find someone who does . . .”

“We may just find our loophole.”

“Exactly. Jackson, I need you to pull up everything you can on her, especially the adoption papers. Find something we can use. Clauses, conditions, something that was neglected in the signing. Anything. Hoffman, I want you trailing her. Be discreate. Don’t let yourself be seen.”

“What?”

“Chief, you can’t be serous? Hoffman’s still a rookie.”

“She’s also one of the best we got. They might notice one of you hanging around. Hoffman’s the least conspicuous out of the bunch.” Gordon explained. “And Spencer, I want a full report on everything you heard and get a social worker in here to look at those drawings. There might be a clue in them.”

“Chief, why are you doing all this? Not that what you’re doing isn’t good, but, you could get into serous trouble for this. I mean, you very well could be risking your carrier for this. Why?”

“Like you said Hoffman, she’s one of ours. And Gotham protects its own.”

 @mystery-5-5 @captainmac6 @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @mochinek0 @sonif50 @zalladane @thebananathatwrites @schrodingers25 @kuroko26 @miraculousbelladonna @souleaterlicestein @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @ijustwannabecanadian @ellerahs @ranger-paladinikoe @xxmadamjinxx @derpingrainbow @sassy-spocko @vixen-uchiha @mjisntme @iggy-of-fans @violentbisexualprophecywriter @valeks-princess @crazylittlemunchkin @redscarlet95 @alexzandria-747 @ayuchan07 @whomthefyck @rhub4rb @constancetruggle @rikku052 @kurogaya913 @shizukiryuu @spicybelladonna @zazzlejazzle @luciferge @mewwitch @emotionalsupportginger @grunklestantheman @my-name-is-michell @northernbluetongue @chez-pezeater @shamefullove @goggles-mcgee @gingerdaile @zebrabaker @tinybrie @bluefiredemon @tbehartoo @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @shyestofhearts @darkthunder1589 @fridayfirefly @yazi-ing @lunar-wolf-warrior @ladylb @vivilakitty @ghostcryptid @casual-darkness @thatrandomfandomgirl @mindfulmagics @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @violatiger8 @seraphichana @synnesstra @friedchickening @kiara-rose-blackthorn @driftingmoonlitpetals @nataladriana9 @ginamarie1512 @etheralentity @tritaledkitsune @ki117h3dr4g0n @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @particularlygeeky