#LET THE DIRECTORS HEADS BE FULL OF WISDOM AND THOUGHT AND DO THEIR BEST TO MAKE IT GOOD

[thestirringpot]

istg if the new fnaf movie is rushed i will eat myself alive

[candescentclitoria]

What About You? What About Me?

Pairing: Zelda Spellman x Reader, Other Character x Reader.

Warnings: Does unrequited love count? Cause that shit hurts.

Co-Writer/Editor: @empatheticroses​

A/N: This took a long while mainly because my friend and I had classes up our asses.

You had been pining after her for years. Two, to be exact, but it felt like an eternity with how your attempts to let her know had been disregarded. Specifically, when you would do little things to help her work as the Unholy Choir’s director—bringing her cups of crisp cold water, sometimes cups of hot tea when she had a sore throat. When you would visit the Spellman residence, just to see more of her and to say ‘hi’ to the family, you would help her tidy up, make her drinks, tiny snacks; even helping to clean up after dinner. Your help didn’t go unnoticed by the other residence members, who thanked you with either a hug, specifically a Hilda hug, those were the best or a kind tone of voice. 

Whenever Zelda did notice, she would nod and gently pat you on the head. Saying a quiet ‘thank you.’ Perhaps you were petty for wanting more gratitude from the redhead.

Months go by, Zelda was with Marie now, and for a while, you thought you could handle it; and you did for the most part. You were holding it well, all the way up till Hilda and Cee’s wedding reception. After Sabrina had saved the coven from “The Uninvited,” the evening’s festivities continued. Sipping on wine, you innocently looked over, you saw Zelda and Marie kiss, after that, it was over, you had to leave. Tears in your eyes and walking, you accidentally bumped into Hilda. “Darling, what’s wrong?” The blonde asked, her hand gently grasping your forearm. You shook your head, “No, I am fine; I don’t want to ruin your night. I just have to go.” You said, not without looking away at Zelda one last time. Hilda looked at you after you turned your head to her; an understanding look from the blonde was all you needed from her before you left.

Everyone had noticed how you craved the attention and acceptance from the redhead, even her sister. When it came to it, Hilda was your shoulder to lean on when Zelda was seemingly prospering, and you were shriveling, dejection, and hurt filling your soul. When Zelda had married Faustus, you tried your best to support her. Being her friend, you felt you needed it; however, Hilda told you that feeling the way you were, betrayed and hurt, was perfectly fine. 

When Zelda had come back from her Honeymoon under the effects of the Caligari Spell, you tried your best to reach her, yet she pushed you away, saying she had always been that way. When she had the spell broken, you were right by her side, placing a hot cup of tea in front of her. You had pushed yourself to dig your happiness’ grave just to please her, your mental and emotional health pushed to the side to prioritize her’s. To say that you were breaking was an understatement. You were already far gone, broken,  yet you chose to stay, pampering Zelda as she walked off with another. Hilda held you as you sobbed that night, wailing at the heartbreak that consumed you once more. 

Your legs push you to the main foyer of Dorian’s, a quiet ‘lanuae magicae’ leaving your lips as you walk. Your surroundings turn from those of the nightclub to your bedroom; quickly, you move to gather your things, using your magic to finish quicker. Your suitcase, full of your clothes, was ready to be put in your car. Any type of electronic you own is packed separately and carefully. Your bed is stripped of its dark grey sheets and comforter, packed in another suitcase. You were doing it. You were leaving. Finally, after years of pining after Zelda, pampering her every need and want, and your suffering, you were putting yourself first. You decided then and there; you would never let yourself get hurt just to please someone ever again, mainly when they chose not to acknowledge you and your attempts to please them.

Changing your clothes, you place your dress in the suitcase with your clothes, zipping it up and teleporting it to the trunk of your car, your other bags following as well. By now, your trunk and backseat were bound to be full, perhaps even your passenger seat. Walking downstairs, you grab your spare money jar. It was meant for paying bills, but you wouldn’t need to pay them for a while, not until you settled down somewhere else. 

Ten thousand dollars in cash, you had ten thousand dollars. That itself was more than enough combined with your current amount in the bank.

With a small sigh, you turn off all the lights with a wave of your hand, and staring back into the darkness of your living room, you shut the door and leave. Your first stop was the Spellman residence. No one would be home, so it was perfect for you to get in, get out, and leave a note for Hilda. An apology. You apologized for so many things in the letter you had no clue what it was about anymore, just an apology, you supposed.

 Admitting it hadn’t been hard, but you would miss your chaotic adoptive niece, always causing something to happen in Greendale. Ambrose, still having to help her fix the mistakes. Your little, yet highly elder, nephew. His small spouts of wisdom from all his years of living.  Hilda and her kind heart, her ability to calm you down just by existing. And Zelda,  there was so much to miss about her, the snooty remarks, the ways she’d reel you in hook, line, and sinker. She was leaving you deft and dim, leaving you to crack and pour. 

The letter was addressed to Hilda, and you had hoped that she wouldn’t tell Zelda with the begging inside the note. You hoped she would tell Ambrose and Sabrina and tell them not to let Zelda know. You were moving on. That was that. 

What you hadn’t expected when you left and arrived in Scarsdale, a small quaint town outside of Greendale, was to meet a woman. A beautiful, kind, and acknowledging woman. When you had bumped into each other, her coffee spilling all over her, you repeatedly apologized, saying you’d buy her another coffee and pay for her dirty clothes to be cleaned. She nodded and let you guide her to the coffee shop, buying her a replacement drink and a pastry. And then, she asked you on a date. Her name was Edalyn, Eda for short. She was in her thirties, much younger than Zelda, and very foxy. She had bright ginger hair, wild like a lion's mane, yet well kept. Her eyes were very light brown, and in the sun, they were golden. 

Eventually, one date turned into two and two into three. Soon enough, five months of seeing each other passed, and you decide to move in together. Eda herself turned out to be a witch. 

Yes, it did remind you of Zelda, but you had Eda now. You didn’t need Zelda, and you didn’t crave her affections anymore. You desired Eda’s, and she gave it freely. Whenever you would bring her little snacks or drinks, she would kiss your cheek, take your hand and say ‘Thank you.’

When you would bring her lunch for work- dinner if she stayed later than usual- she would pull you into her lap and nuzzle into your neck, mumbling tiny ‘Thank you’s. Fixing her a bath before bed rewarded you with kisses all over your face, tiny ‘I love you’s leaving her throat. Even if you didn’t do anything for her, she would kiss you, whether it was on your cheek, neck, lips.

 This is the affection you always deserved. You reminded yourself.

 Eda fixed you, and she said that you set her as well. 

This is the affection you deserve.

 At night you would cuddle into her arms and fall asleep to the sound of her heartbeat, her chin resting on the top of your head. 

You deserve to heal.

Some days, Hilda would apparate to you, checking in on you. She would kiss your cheek and hug you, telling you that when she finished apparating, she would teleport a basket of pastries to you. She would ask you how you were doing if you had met anyone. You told her you had. You told her how happy Eda made you, how well she treated you. Hilda would smile and place her hands on top of yours, “You deserve every bit of affection she gives to you! So long as you return it!” And you did, you told her. Every time Eda would be affectionate, you would be affectionate back. A smile would cross her face, and she would tear up, “May I say something?” You’d nod. “Zelda is… she’s going nuts dear. She hasn’t heard from you, and she thinks you're just ignoring her. Just be careful alright? You know Zelda, she always does something bizarre when she needs an answer.” You had nodded and Hilda frowned slightly, “I have to go now. Sabrina and Ambrose miss you dearly; we all do. And don’t worry, we haven’t told Zelda what happened.” A small ‘thank you’ left your lips, and you smiled at Hilda. “Bring Sabrina next time, okay? Maybe Ambrose if possible.” She would nod, and then, she would be gone.

The next time she visited you, Sabrina was with her, and Eda was home. Hilda approved of Eda quickly and telling you she, as Sabrina would be right back, they disappeared and reappeared, this time there. Hilda’s warm arms welcomed you, and you teared up as you laid your head against her shoulder. Sabrina moved to wrap her arms around you, and she nuzzled into your shoulder. 

Tears freely flowed down her face, her brown eyes almost shining. “I missed you, Auntie (Y/N).” A shaky, “I missed you too, kid,” escaped your lips, and you kissed her forehead. You turned your head to look at Eda. “Eda, this is Sabrina and Hilda, Hilda, Sabrina, meet Eda.” Hilda had moved to hug her immediately, thanking her for taking care of you. Sabrina shook her head gently, little chuckles escaping her mouth.  After Hilda had finished her ‘thank you’s, she had set out to your kitchen, with yours and Eda’s permission, to cook some dinner.

Sabrina gently put her hand out, “It’s nice to meet you. Auntie (Y/N) talks about you to Aunt Hilda all the time!” Eda chuckled, moving her hand to grips Sabrina’s, “And have I made a good impression?” 

“The best.” Sabrina glanced at you. Your hands were busy making the broth for the soup. “Anyone who makes my Aunts happy has my full approval.” A smile graced Eda’s face, and she looked at you. “I make her that happy?” Sabrina Nodded. “Yeah, My other Aunt, Zelda- the one (Y/N) is in hiding from- held (Y/N)’s affection for a long time. One day she had enough and left, finally choosing her happiness and mental health over someone’s Auntie’s. My Aunt Zelda was foolish not to realize what was in front of her all this time, but it’s too late. (Y/N)’s moved on, she’s happy now, and I can’t thank you enough for helping her fix herself, Ms. Eda.” 

“Thanks, Sabrina; I’m glad I make her that happy.” Sabrina nodded and walked off to the kitchen, leaving Eda to her thoughts. She never knew how happy she made you and the fact that she knew now? She wanted to give you the best life possible, so she promised herself she would.

Eda’s eyes glanced to look at you as you worked beside Hilda. A smile was plastered on your face, and Eda couldn’t help but smile as well. She walked over behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. She was whipped for you, no doubt. 

Another thing you hadn’t expected, after being told that Zelda had no clue you had indeed left, was for her to turn up on your doorstep. She looked paler than usual, her hair was the slightest bit frazzled, and her makeup was much more minimal than usual.

“Thank Hecate. I’ve finally found you.” Blinking rapidly, you open your mouth to speak, “How the hell? How did you find me? Who told you where I was?” Shaking her head, she steps past you into the living room. “No one, but that fact that others knew and I didn’t hurt. Let me guess, and you told Hilda, Sabrina, and Ambrose to hide it from me that you left? Am I right?” A small nod is all you can muster up, eyes glancing up into hers. “Well then, it’s time for you to come home. I’ve realized I made many mistakes when it came to you. You’ve been by my side through everything, and I want you as mine.” 

You raise your brows in shock. Is she serious?

 “You’re- You’re joking, right?” You say quietly, fists clenched at your side. “No, I’m not. I realized that I’ve been horrible to you. I didn’t even consider your feelings or your mental health; I’m sorry (Y/N).”

A raspy voice calls out to you, “(Y/N), what’s going on, babe?” 

Eda!

She rounds the corner and moves to you but stops as she lands her eyes on the redhead. “Who is this?” Closing your eyes tightly, you gently take Eda’s hand. “This is Zelda, Eda. Zelda, this is Eda, my girlfriend.” Zelda’s eyes widen, her hands raise slightly, but she puts them back at her sides. “So you’ve… you’ve taken a lover.” You nod, hand tightening on Eda’s. “Yes, I have.” 

A growl escapes Eda’s lips, and she glares at Zelda, “What the hell are you doing here? After everything you’ve done to her, you have some nerve.” Zelda throws her hands up, stepping back slightly, “Trust me, I have no harmful intentions; I just wish to talk to (Y/N).” You place your hand on Eda's shoulder, shaking your head when she looks at you. Now wasn’t the time for Eda to lash out. Truthfully, Eda always had a temper, letting her anger sometimes get the best of her. She was never abusive in any way, instead she tended just to cry or punch a pillow. Her rage was never brought out on you. 

“What do you want, Zelda? Why’d you come looking for me?” Zelda gently grabs your hand and moves with you to sit down on the couch. “As I said earlier, I’ve realized how I’ve made you feel. Forgotten, unloved, disregarded: like you don’t matter, but you do, I promise. It took me a while to realize that I’m sorry (Y/N). Please, come back with me, give me another chance, and I promise I will make it up to you. I miss you, darling” A scoff leaves your throat, anger slowly taking over your calm mood.

“You’re joking, right? You’ve got to be. Zelda, why do you think I left? I left because you pushed me to the side and treated me like I didn’t matter. You don’t get to make me feel like shit; you don’t get to parade around my house and throw a pity party for yourself. You had every chance to miss me before, miss me when I was at the wedding, miss me when I left early, but you chose to miss me when I moved to Scarsdale and finally found someone that cherished me! Someone that showed me the love and affection I deserved when you wouldn’t do any of that! You have no right to claim that you’re upset when you didn’t notice how much I craved your attention; how much I cried over you! When you married Faustus, when you fell in love with Marie, Hilda held me while I cried because I felt like you didn’t love me. Hilda held me every time I was hurting because of you- and I chose to stay because even though I was in so much emotional pain, I cared about you more than I cared about myself!” Tears come to Zelda’s eyes; her hands clench against her chest. 

“So if anything, fuck you, Zelda Spellman, fuck you for thinking you get to march into my life and confess your love. Go back to Marie; maybe she’ll kiss your ass and make love to you.”

Small sobs fall from Zelda’s lips, her form starts to shake, and she wraps her arms around herself. Your eyes widen, and you glance at Eda. “Marie is gone (Y/N).” You look at the broken ginger before you, sighing, “I’m sorry, but this allows you to grow yourself.” You say, looking at her with compassion despite the storm of anger raging inside you. Zelda looks at you and nods timidly, “I...I will let myself out. I hope you have a good life here, thrive the way you deserve, darling.” Zelda says before walking towards the door, and then she leaves. Eda’s hands gently land on your shoulder and you move your hand on top of hers, “It’s over (Y/N), you don’t have to worry about her hurting you like that anymore.” A nod is all you can muster and you turn around, placing your head against Eda’s chest. Small sobs leave your throat, hands gently holding Eda close by her waist.  That was it; you had finally put your foot down, finalizing the burned bridges between you and Zelda- and as much as it hurt, you felt better than before.

[dirtycccat]

things that remind you of them w the demon bros+ (un)dateables

highkey tw for some unhealthy behaviors and uhhhhh maybe sensitive stuff idk just keep that in mind

lucifer

an impromptu orchestra concert in an abandoned church. a forgotten off key piano found at the back of an antique shop. tradition worth more than luxury. 

the crackling of fire. glittering glasses of wine. changing a vinyl with naked hands, brushing the dust off its hard body. a cold hand touching  the back of your neck in passing. whispered words of affection in the ear of your sleeping beloved.

running on air. falling with your lungs full of fire. trying to rebel against fate, against the inevitable moment the ground will break your bones for trying to cheat the laws of nature and its gods.

the heavy weight of perfection bending you backwards. counting down the moments until it will finally break you. measuring your worth in work, in being good at, in being useful, in being needed.

sticking up with family, with rules, with loyalty despite your own desires. acting like you’re the first but always putting yourself second. 

being afraid to dare to be selfish and to love. being scared of your own devouring passions. waiting for your beloved to take the first step and running the whole way to finally meet them.

mammon

the fluttering of wings in the silence of a white september afternoon. a sea of crows watching your every move from atop a nearby building. finding a black feather on the ground and keeping it in your pocket for good luck.

the friction between leather seats and leather jackets. heavy cologne mixed with the scent of sweat and leather. the purr of a motor. finding a half empty pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your old jacket.

winning second place so many times you’ve given up on first. still dreaming of clawing your way onto the top of the podium sometimes. 

the heavy burden of capitalism of having your worth monetized. having to constantly show the word you’re worth something. selling your soul for value. 

wanting everything you could never have before. overspending, oversharing, overwhelming. being too much but also never enough. 

finally being someone’s number one. strong arms holding you while you cry. a reassuring presence, a constant in your life 

leviathan

imposter syndrome. feeling like you’ll never fit in, like you’ll never be good enough.

replacing real life with dreams. looking at life from the outside. living inside your head.

playing games until 3 am on a school/work night. letting your passions consume you. still feeling guilty of not doing anything measured in money or public approval. calling all your hobbies guilty pleasures because you still care about what others think despite appearances.

finding comfort in the solace of the ocean. sitting at the bottom of the pool holding in your breath and your tears. crying in the shower. letting the water wash you clean and reborn. 

letting someone in. being accepted for what you are and the little you can offer. vast depths hidden by shallow waters.

satan

rage. pure unfiltered rage. the desire to stand up to authority figures.  clenched fists, heavy calming breaths, tightly closed eyes. tears of anger, of not being right, of never being good enough or smart enough.

subtle jabs. heavy sarcasm. veiled ironies. cruel eyes and bloody smiles.

putting your nose in a cat’s fur and smelling home. holding a small being full of love and feeling fulfilled. finally feeling like you want to protect and not just destroy.

having to put a book down after reading a certain line that perfectly described that unknown feeling you’ve had all your life. rereading the same line again and again and feeling the knot in your heart and stomach loosening. knowledge as power turned into knowledge as a way of truly becoming yourself turned into a shelter of understanding guarding you from the anger.

swearing in other languages under your breath. reciting poetry aloud by candlelight while drunk on wine and desire. heavy whispers full of hot meanings in the ear of your lover during dinner in languages spoken only by you two.

finally getting the happy ending you’ve always read about. finding your anchor. being a better you for your beloved. improving and helping each other with their shortcomings. balancing each other.

asmodeus

perfectly done make up that had you wake up 2 hours earlier than the others. using concealer to hide a pimple or any imperfection. pants too tight to walk in. the sound of heels in an empty hallway. 

caressing your desire while taking a hot bath. focusing on carnal needs, on your senses, on what you feel, on the present. drunk kisses. flirting with strangers at moonlit bars. red lipstick stains on blushing necks.  

drinking a glass too many despite the warning in your head. drinking to forget yourself. drinking to escape your fears, your inhibitions, your shortcomings. drinking to become the perfect you the others always expect to see you as. but also drinking to be selfish and feel good for yourself and yourself only.

the sad knowledge you’ll never be the best ever again. being compared to others and ending up comparing yourself to them. knowing your worst enemy is yourself, but trying to hide that fact with mean jokes and confident airs. feeling afraid of being known, but even more afraid of having no one knowing the real you.

beauty at a price. happiness sold for beauty. cruel beauty that devours its worshippers. 

the reassuring hands of a stranger holding your hair as you let it all out, the alcohol and the guilt. crying with your head on the cool toilet porcelain after you came home from a party that you thought would help you escape. 

help and love coming from where you least expect it. noticing the little things. noticing the person behind the character.

beelzebub 

an unknown hunger gnawing at your insides. trying to fill the empty inside but always choosing the wrong meal.

feeling satisfied after a good meal on a good day, feeling bursting on a bad one. devouring until you can’t. still feeling empty, still needing to fill yourself up but knowing it is useless.

feeling breathless and weightless after a run. being high on adrenaline and feeling like you can do anything. the smell of a sweaty used gym and leather boxing gloves. 

falling in love so slow and easy it feels like a meeting in the middle of an already drawn path.  

belphegor

living just to pass the time. living for others. living but forgetting how to live. being told to do better, to be better, to just get up and do something.

sleeping in. falling asleep at 6 am after a night of insomnia. hearing the world wake outside when inside you’re just going to bed.

strong emotions with no release. feeling full without escape.  dark humor. saying too much, revealing too much, being to much so you hide.

getting away with shit because you’re the smallest and feeling no guilt. 

the feel of fresh bedsheets. being covered in a blanket just right. feeling warm and protected in the comfort of your room.

love that comes like a question and an answer. love that feels heavy despite it’s light.

diavolo

a commanding tone bringing silence to a room. respect earned justifying the respect you were born with.

luck of birth. being born with a silver spoon. being sheltered, being always different, being untouched by the world outside and its people. 

being born with a burden. accepting your prescribed fate. believing in legends and asking yourself if you’re the hero or the villain of your own story. realizing that life is more complicated than fairytales.

abandoned castles. ivy walls and moss floor. a lit figure at the window of an empty mansion. the creaking of old staircases at night when you’re home alone. feeling like you’re from another time.

a strong hand squeezing your thigh under the table. the reassuring warmth of your lover’s presence in a time of need. being loved and not just desired. finally being touched where it matters.

barbatos

unwavering loyalty. living to serve. giving up on your individuality.

a shadow following you at night while you walk back home. sharp eyes locked onto yours from across the room. 

passive aggressiveness. hiding behind a smile. an impenetrable facade of public politeness.

the ennui of knowing too much, of living the same day, of being hungry  for a breakthrough. knowledge as a burden but also as a gift.

knowing everything about others but no one knowing anything about you. making small thoughtful gestures that remind others of your deep knowledge of their habits and wants.

finally being noticed and seen for yourself alone. getting the surprise you were craving. being taken care of.

simeon

living different lifetimes through your writing and through books.

the smile of a pretty stranger in the train that will forever visit your dreams.

a handwritten message in cursive on the fridge. a hastily written poem on the back of a receipt.

being the outsider. the watcher. being the director of the play of your life and not the actor.

tea that s just hot enough to warm your insides. falling asleep on an armchair with a book in your hand. sunkissed skin. the softness of summer. the fluttering of invisible wings.

ageless wisdom.

rewriting a cursed tale of history. going against tradition. trying to carve your happy ending. succeeding.

solomon

knowledge coming at the price of youth and life.

a thirst to know. devouring books. staying up until 5 am reading. eyes burning dry. feeling like you’re still not doing enough. head full of little nothings. feeling like you will never know anything however much you try read or learn.

notes in the margins of a book you took from the public library. wondering who is the person behind the words. fleeting attachments to the wrong people for the wrong reasons.

being the outcast. the kid at the back of your class reading a russian novel in the original language underneath the table during math class.

a house in the middle of the woods with smoke coming from its chimney. rituals in the dark. wet moss on your soles, the moon lighting up your eyes. the silence of night on a full moon. 

whispering prayers and praises to the earth under your breath as you go. feeling drunk on fire. noticing the magic around you. kissing the earth. finally grasping the knowledge you sold your soul for. asking yourself if it was really worth it and having no answer.

love as an adventure. finally feeling and not thinking. giving up on reason and embracing your heart’s guidance.

[adoraang]

She-Ra Week Day 5 by @fauxghosts

Prompt: PRINCESS PROM / healing

Summary: When Glimmer and Bow bet Adora she can't ask Catra to prom before the end of the spring musical, she gets frustrated with her feelings.So what do you do when you've got a bunch of pent up frustration?You duke it out in the Denny's parking lot with your crush in a lightsaber duel.

Read it on AO3

“You’re not gonna do it.”

“I am not gonna do it,” Adora said dramatically as they stepped off the stage after finishing Act Two.

Their school, after constant begging, had finally decided to do a production of Les Miserables. After doing things like Seussical (they don’t talk about that) and High School Musical (nothing wrong with it, just mundane), the theatre department wanted something more serious. Something that would challenge them.

So they forced their director, Double Trouble, to fight with the school about doing Les Mis. Despite some of the… suggestive stuff from the show, the school probably didn’t want to fight some theatre kids, and let them have their show.

The audition process is always the scariest. Being a soprano, she only had one role really available to her: Cosette. Glimmer and Bow peer pressured her into auditioning for a lead instead of going straight to ensamble, and she still wasn’t going to do it, but then Catra asked her to do it, and she couldn’t say no.

Adora ended up cast as Cosette, and she had practically cried of happiness when the cast list came out. Glimmer had gotten Fantine, being a very low mezzo. But then Catra’s name was listed for Eponine, and she just about proposed right there.

They were far from love interests. In fact, they were love rivals. Sea Hawk was the one playing Marius, and the two girls spent the entire show in love with him, which wasn’t the funnest. Neither of them even liked boys, so for Catra’s character to die because she was delivering a letter to Marius… It was a trip.

Even if they weren’t true love interests, and only shared one song with each other that wasn’t the Act One finale, Catra and Adora still spent the most time in rehearsal together. Ironic, because the one song was called A Heart Full Of Love, and it’s Adora’s hardest song, in her opinion.

She gushed about Catra to Bow and Glimmer everyday in the car home from rehearsal. “Guys, I think my heart is full of love. Would it be weird to ask Double Trouble to switch Marius and Eponine? I’d rather spend the whole show simping about Catra then Sea Hawk-”

“Adora!” Glimmer cut off. “You’ve been halfway in love with Catra since Seussical, and I think that’s saying something. You should tell her. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“She rejects me, never talks to me again, drops out of the show, and I can’t spend the rest of senior year with her or college, since we’re both going to University of San Diego together to major in theatre, and she’ll never want to be in another role with me!”

“You’re freaking out again,” Bow childed, not turning away from the street as he drove. “You know Catra isn’t like that. And I don’t think she’ll reject you in the first place.” “I am so tired of hearing Adora talk about Catra when Catra probably likes her back,” Glimmer growled. “I’m going to do something about it.”

She reached into her pocket, and Adora almost hopped over the console. She thought they were going to call Catra and tell her something, and it was enough to make her take off her seatbelt, despite Bow’s car safety. “Glimmer, wait-”

Instead, she pulled out her wallet. “I will give you fifty dollars if you ask Catra to Princess Prom as a romantic date. I’ll double the offer if you do it before closing night.”

“An extra twenty if she says yes!” Bow chimed in.

Glimmer and Bow don’t struggle with money, so a hundred wasn’t a lot for them, but Adora’s eyes grew wide as she thought about it. Of course, it involved asking Catra out, but she’d figure that out later. “You have a deal.”

“Now please put your seatbelt back on!” Bow screeched, his voice cracking.

Which brought them to now, as they got into position for curtain call. She’d be bowing with Sea Hawk after Catra had hers with Kyle (who played Enjorlas, and it’s still shrouded in mystery how he got the role). Glimmer was one of the first to bow, but she still caught the wink as she walked away.

“That thing is huge,” Catra mumbled when she got in line backstage, waiting for their cue.

Adora looked down at her costume. The huge wedding dress wasn’t her favorite costume from the show, but it couldn’t be more appropriate for the moment (or inappropriate, take the pick). Catra couldn’t look more beautiful in her sleeveless white shirt and brown skirt that hit the floor. Despite the fact that the belt on her waist was big on her and she had dirt slathered all over her, she’s never looked better. Plus the red cap… That stupid thing was going to be the death of her.

“It’s always been like this,” Adora replied, falling into her place next to Sea Hawk, who busied himself with Kyle. Her heart thumped with the question. She doubted Catra had feelings for her, but she could always ask as a friend. Not like Glimmer and Bow needed to know anyways…

Bow had been a life saver in tech. He always knew when to turn off people’s mics, including that one time he turned off Catra’s when she started shit talking principal Hordak backstage when he came to watch rehearsal. Luckily, he turned them off now as Adora made her attempts to approach the subject.

“Princess Prom.” That’s not a question, it’s a statement! “Uh, I mean…”

“Catra, you and Kyle are next,” Scorpia, their stage manager, said.

Catra nodded, then turned back to her. “So, this is it, huh.. Our last curtain call as seniors, being cast as the leads for the first time, our last show in general until San Diego.”

“Don’t remind me.” She already cried in her car as she drove herself and Catra to school, emotional about ending her last show already. Closing nights are always a mess, but it just hits differently as seniors, and when you’re playing love rivals with the girl you’re pretty in love with.

“I’ll see you on the flip side,” she whispered before she ran out on stage, the bright lights shining down on her.

Even though Adora could only see Catra’s back, they were both sad about this being their last show. They had identical tears pricking their eyes, and when she rushed off stage with Kyle, she braced herself for the emotions to come.

She took Sea Hawk’s hand, and they ran to center stage when Scorpia gave them their cue. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming, even as she bunched her dress in her hands to give the curtsey bow. Sea Hawk did the Jeremy Jordan bow, where he clasps his hands in front of him and takes his bow.

Their last show…

The cast got into a line going horizontal, pointing to their lovely orchestra for their part of the bow. They started to make their way backstage again, and Adora took Catra’s hand. For emotional support, you know? She wasn’t going to see the blinding lights or the tech week shenanigans or the mic taped to her forehead in high school again! Obviously she’s going to be very dramatic about it.

As the cast made their way to the green room, everyone was in the same mood: sad. Catra had opted for letting go of her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders as they silently sniffled. She was going to miss this…

“Closing night isn’t over, people!” Sea Hawk shouted, pumping a fist into the air. “Let’s go say goodbye to Double Trouble, and head over to Denny's!”

Ah, yes. The theatre kid ritual. Every show, they have to go to Denny'safter closing. It’s the law, and she looked forward to it every time. It always created the best memories, like when the obnoxious senior from last year, Octavia, got arrested for stealing a shopping cart.

Denny's always made her night.

“He’s not wrong,” Catra said to her. “Am I driving with you?”

“Duh.” Wasn’t that a given? Or was it too forward to assume. Or maybe-

“That’s what I thought.”

But when they stepped into the green room, all thoughts of Catra disappeared (for one second exactly) as Double Trouble walked in, whopping loudly. They gave their speech about this being one of the funnest shows to do, but Adora was too busy wiping her wet cheeks to really listen.

“Go out there, kids, and rule the goddamn theatre world!” Double Trouble finished, dismissing them for the night.

“To Denny's!” Glimmer exclaimed, giving everyone the pick-me-up they needed.

“To Denny's,” Catra repeated to her, quieter. To Denny'sit was. They walked to the parking lot, heading to her car, but Glimmer caught her wrist as she was opening her door.

“You only have a couple hours left. Use them wisely.” Satisfied with her words of wisdom, Glimmer got into the passenger side of Bow’s car parked next to them.

“I’m really going to kill them,” Adora whispered to herself as she put the key into the ignition. Her little yellow beetle may not be anything for any other high school kid, but it was perfect for her.

“Why?” Catra asked, having apparently heard her. Rats.

“Because.” And it was left at that before Adora opened her mouth again. “Princess Prom. That’s a thing that’s going on. It’s going on very soon. Like, in a month soon.”

“Yes, what about it?” Catra seemed so dismissive of it. She looked out the window, listening to Somebody’s Watching Me on the radio. Was she even going to go? What if she asked and Catra had no plans of going, and Adora’s unknowingly forcing her into it?

“Nothing.”

“Oh…” Catra traced the window with her nail. Now why was she all deflated? This girl is way too confusing for her brain. “I want to go, but I don’t want to be alone.”

Adora is going to kill someone. Seriously, all it would take is driving the car into Denny's. “Really? You’re going?”

“Not as of right now, but I kind of want to. Like I wouldn’t wear a dress or heels. But… I would want to wear a suit and maybe get my nails a color that isn’t black. But I don’t know who I’d go with.”

She momentarily turned away from the road to look at Catra. Bow would be screaming at her right now, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. She was basically given an invitation to ask, but what if Catra didn’t want her to ask? What if she’s just talking about it? What if she wants Adora to set her up with someone else?

Catra opened her mouth to say something, but she got distracted by something gleaming in the backseat. “There’s no way I didn’t notice these earlier!”

She reached into the back, leaning across the console. Her white sweater rode up on her waist, and Adora exploded into a blush at the sight of some skin. Seriously, what is wrong with her? And because she doesn’t get cold, she wore a cropped red cami and regular black jeans. Her outfit did nothing to hide the blush.

Catra came back up, holding the hilt of two lightsabers. They were both big Star Wars nerds, and she spent thirty dollars (each) on these sabers. But the money from the bet would pay it back, if she actually did it. Catra dove into the backseat again, bringing the two sticks of plastic that she fastened back onto the hilt.

She pressed a button, and the blue light from Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber lit up the car. Catra stared at the saber, and Adora couldn’t help but notice how her skin managed to light up perfectly in the blue light. “Try the red.”

Catra turned off the blue saber, and grabbed a hold of Darth Vader’s lightsaber. The red added a dangerous feeling to the atmosphere. Blue was fun and playful. Red was full of passion, and the silence that followed afterward proved her point.

Finally, Catra cleared her throat, moving the saber around a bit. “Oh, I like this one.”

“But I like that one,” Adora protested as she pulled into a parking space at Denny’s. She could see everyone had already arrived. Not like she was driving slower than usual just to get a couple more seconds of conversation. No doubt they would see the red light and question what they were doing.

She pointed the end of the saber at Adora. “Well then, I guess it’s going to have to be a duel to the fate.”

Adora rolled her eyes at the reference, but grabbed the blue saber from the console, igniting it with the push of a button. “Okay, Eponine ‘I Died Delivering A Letter To My Love Interest That Was Actually About Another Girl’ Thénardier.”

“That’s the show’s fault, not mine.”

“Unimportant.”

Catra opened the car door, bouncing to Adora's side within seconds. She hastily took off her seatbelt, practically sprinting out of the driver's seat, spinning the hilt in her hand. “I’m pretty sure you’ve never fought with one of these.”

Adora scoffed. “I own them.”

“Yeah, just like I’m gonna own you!” Catra charged forward, raising her saber above her head before bringing it down on Adora. She barely had time to respond, lifting her own saber to block it as she sunk down to her knee.

“Hey, I just ordered our table! It’ll be ready in a couple minutes,” Scorpia said as she came out the door in time to see Adora stand and knock Catra away from her. “What are you guys doing?”

Catra held Adora in a parry as she turned around to yell, “Fighting, duh!”

“Yeah, we see that!” Bow shouted as Adora brought her sword back to her chest, making Catra stumble as they slowly moved away from her car. “Why are you guys mad?”

“Not real fighting!” Adora answered, moving in closer to Catra as their sabers met in the middle time and time again. “I’m defending my honor and rights!” “Yeah, her rights to dance with me instead of fighting in a parking lot!” Catra responded.

Adora faltered at that. Before she could begin overthinking what that meant in the middle of a lightsaber duel in the Denny's parking lot with the entire cast of Les Mis watching, Catra caught her saber and twisted her arm, causing Adora to completely let go of her saber.

“It’s over, Adora. I have the high ground,” Catra boasted.

“Not yet!” She dropped down low, catching the saber by the hilt before it hit the ground. She brought her blade back up, the two of them getting caught in another round of aimlessly swinging and blocking.

“You guys are ridiculous!” Glimmer shouted, her head in her hands.

“You don’t appreciate the true art of Star Wars like we do!” Adora yelled back.

Truthfully, this isn’t how she expected her last post closing night dinner at Denny’s to go.

When she was talking about it to Catra on their way to school, they imagined a tearful night. Majority of the cast and crew were seniors, and everyone loved them. Glimmer had basically adopted a little sophomore, Frosta, who played Gavroche (no one even noticed the genderbend!). They all thought they were going to be sad, and cry in the back of Scorpia’s pick up truck as they sang One Day More as a cast, one last time.

Instead, Adora was sword fighting Catra in the parking lot as all of their friends watched.

A great conclusion to her senior year musical, honestly.

Adora stood in front of Catra for a moment as they caught their breath. In an instant, they started twirling their sabers in their hands. The light from the blue and red was a whirlwind, and Catra laughed as they recreated that one scene from their favorite Star Wars movie: Revenge of the Sith.

Catra’s laugh was intoxicating. It made Adora let out her own giggle. They went back to fighting after a second, but Catra’s face illuminated by the red light in the nighttime made her stomach go up in butterflies.

“You were supposed to join me, not leave me in darkness!” Catra recited, smiling the whole time.

Adora swiped the saber at her feet, and Catra hopped over it. “Well, I love you!”

She froze, and Catra even faltered. But because she froze, Catra pushed her onto her back, pointing the red saber at her. “I know!”

For a moment, she forgot it was a reference to another one of the movies. But Adora let her saber fall out of her hand, looking up at Catra. The red light was stunning. Everyone else around them had fallen silent to watch the exchange. She then realized no one else knew what the reference was from.

“Guys, it’s from one of the movies!” Adora called out from her place on the ground. “Empire Strikes Back, it’s pretty good. You guys should watch it!”

Catra panted, looking down at her. “What?”

She was equally as confused. “What? What happened?”

“Oh, forget it.” Catra turned off the saber, holding her hand out instead. “Want to rule a galaxy together instead?”

“How about we start by taking over Broadway,” Adora grinned, helping herself up with Catra’s assistance. She turned off the blue saber, but they continued to stare at each other. Catra continued to hold her hand, but neither made any attempt to move away.

“Did we just hash everything out in a Denny’s parking lot?” Catra asked.

“I think we did..”

“Adora!” Glimmer shouted, interrupting their staring contest. “So like, I have a hundred with me. Bow has a twenty, but…”

The bet. A hundred and twenty dollars if she successfully asked her crush out to Princess Prom and didn’t get rejected. But they just beat each other up with plastic toys from the Disney store. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Or maybe they were, but then one of them would fall to the dark side and tragically die. Who knows?

“Oh, that thing where Glimmer and Bow were going to give you money if you asked me to Princess Prom?” Catra raised an eyebrow, laughing at Adora’s horrified face. “Bow told Scorpia, and she accidentally let it slip.”

Adora groaned. She wanted to go fall in a hole and die in a ditch. Maybe she should’ve been shot on stage instead of Catra. “Yeah, about that-”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me,” Catra said, tightening her hold on her hand. “I didn’t think I wanted to go, but then I heard that and I realized… maybe I did. The dances and stuff always felt really corporate to me, and it wasn’t my thing. But I went home everyday wondering why you hadn’t asked me yet, and then I realized-”

“Oh my god I am so sorry,” Adora interrupted. She was horrified. Catra knew the entire time. She’s been tripping over herself for the two months of rehearsal and three weeks of the actual production, but never stopped to think what if she already knew. She’s absolutely mortified. “You got dragged into this mess of a joke between me and Glimmer then Bow came in and I just thought, I don’t know. I don’t think or I think too much. Oh my god, I can not believe this is happening!”

Catra chuckled when she spoke without a pause. “Breathe. I’m not mad. Or upset or anything like that. I like you too, Adora.”

Her cheeks flamed. “You did?”

She nodded. “You’re not exactly subtle, per say…”

Adora didn’t feel like crying out of embarrassment anymore. She put her free hand in her pocket, ghosting her fingers over Catra’s knuckles with the other. “You actually like me?”

Another nod, accompanied with a gorgeous laugh. “Yes. Yes, I like you and all your high notes. You think I liked seeing you kiss Sea Hawk every rehearsal and show?” They both laughed. Neither of them like it, apparently, because Adora didn’t. “You and your private story where you rewatch Clone Wars with me and we both cry, and I get to see the video and laugh at how oblivious you were to notice that I liked you. You and your bootleg pirating, despite the fact that Newsies is your favorite and it’s literally proshot. So yeah, Adora. I do like you. You and your overthinking.”

Adora was over the moon, and she wanted to stay here in the parking lot all night and talk. But first, she had something to conclude. “So, Princess Prom. That’s a thing we should go to together.”

“We should.”

They did.

[pinkhairedlily]

Great Expectations

Chapter 4 of The Spring He Came Back | 4 of 12

Hinamori found herself spacing out in the middle of chores for about a month now. She would be cooking miso soup, and her mind would trail to their conversation on the hill. She would halt in front of the daffodil meadow on the way back from the market and reminisce in the midst of stalks yet to flower, counting down to the third month. She also stopped going to the library because of a growing resentment. If she didn’t bring Hitsugaya there, he wouldn’t have found the book, and he wouldn’t have left. She wondered if she had the right to feel this way, to feel like she lost a friend or a family.

The money from Hitsugaya’s generous allowance came in every end of the month through an academy representative. Baba’s refusals fell on deaf ears, but Hinamori knew she was grateful for the financial support.

True to his promise, Hitsugaya sneaked out of the academy on his third month and met Hinamori on the meadow. He saw her black tendrils flowing with the yellow petals. “Oy, Hinamori.” For a time, it would seem that the gears were running in normal shifts.

This went on for the next three years. Hinamori was given glimpses of his newfound life – of an increasing circle of friends that consisted of a noisy Rangiku, stubborn Rukia, and glutton on steroids Renji. For every encounter, their childhood memories and laidback banter on the yellow field were being replaced by tales of his experiments and model construction with Dr. Kuchiki, the culture shock to the life of the brightest, and the cutthroat competition in academia. For every encounter, he seemed more and more different, but he never let these get the best of him. After all, his silver hair was still shaped like a broomstick, and he still challenged her to watermelon eating contests.

Their meetings stopped when he had to participate in an overseas internship in Karakura. Monthly letters replaced his physical presence until there were none. Exasperated because of her growing loneliness, Baba assured her it was the natural course of things.

“As we grow older Momo, we form a lot of bonds. Some becomes the foundation of our nature and identity while others are circles at certain phases of our lives.” Baba gave her a cup of black tea with a dash of honey, her favorite brew. “There comes a point we grow out of those circles and seek the next set of bonds. The rarest of all, those bonds that accompany you forever.”

“I thought we were his family, Baba.” There was a burning feeling behind Hinamori’s eyes, and she felt a headache forming.

Baba stared at her wistfully and tucked a loose tendril behind her grandchild’s ear. “If you’re so adamant to keep those bonds, why won’t you walk beside him?”

Hinamori shook her head vehemently and slapped her palms on the table. “Baba! I will never leave you. Please stop saying that!” Some of her black tea spilled. “Besides, the academy is invitation-only, remember?”

“Momo my dearest and only, I’m almost 70. I’ve lived a good, full life so far, and I want you to live like that as well. I don’t want you shackled by your past or be burdened by taking care of me. The world is bigger than this town,” Baba chuckled to herself as she took a sip of her tea. “Besides, I have reliable neighbors who will take care of me. We have a telephone now so we can always communicate. Wondrous technology. Oh but you have to teach me.”

“Baba, stop it. The academy is not accepting low-tier students like me.”

“Oh Momo. Just throw it out there and the world will right itself.”

Baba’s wisdom never failed. When Hinamori became 15 years old, the academy opened its gates to the common folk. The complaints about accessibility and inequality probably got to the administration. Investments in the town kept pouring in, demand for residential space was increasing, the clamor to enter the academy regardless of social status eventually gained traction. While the invitation and referral arrangements still existed, the opportunities leveled through general admissions. Well, not quite. The examinations were grueling, and the interviews were tricky to answer. They asked outright for research proposals and the field of specialization one was interested in. On top of her head, Hinamori stated her concentration on terrestrial ecology. Actually, she just wanted to create perennial daffodils so their meadow would be yellow all year round, no matter the season.

Hinamori passed the screening. General admission passers were granted wider freedom but lesser privilege. They were not restricted to stay in the dorms and had normal class schedules that didn’t involve laboratory and experiments on weekends. On the downside, they were provided lesser amount of allowance (good for family of three) which Hinamori was still thankful for. They weren’t also allowed to venture into the buildings of the core members. From her initial grant, she bought a bicycle to make her trips faster and quicker across opposite end of the town. It was an unstable feeling, landing on shifting grounds, but soon enough, she found her balance.

I’m in. I’m inside the academy’s gates. It was an exhilarating feeling of great expectations and humble beginnings.

Only 100 students were admitted in the winter. Amid the flurry of post-inauguration activities, Hinamori saw the familiar silver hair sticking out like sore thumb in the middle of the crowd.

He’s not supposed to be here. He was accompanied by three people trailing behind at a safe distance. She presumed they were the three Rs – Rangiku, Rukia, Renji. On Hitsugaya’s arms was a bouquet. “Oy, Momo.”

Her cheeks were flushed red. She wished she wore her hair loose instead of a bun because it had started to snow. “Broomstick Shirou-chan.” Was he taller when she last saw him? Silly, he was gone for two years.

“I just got back from my internship in time for your inauguration.” He handed her the bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, fully blooming in winter. “Congratulations.”

“Oh, I’m still taller than you,” Hinamori blurted out. “Oops. It was supposed to be a personal observation.”

“You know what, give me back the bouquet.”

“But it’s true! You probably still have the same height!”

“Momo, give me the bouquet back.”

“Won’t.” They both laughed it off, unaware of stealing glances from his company.

“Oooh is she the one you’re always writing letters to, Hitsugaya?” the blond-haired girl asked. “How sweet! Childhood sweethearts!”

“Shut up, Rangiku!”

“Oh no, we’re truly not-“ Hinamori started, but she was immediately cut off.

“Childhood sweethearts?!” the red-haired one yelled. “You mean to tell me this was fate? Wow, I’m so jealous.”

“I’m literally right here, Abarai.” The black-haired kid who was almost the same height as Hitsugaya was probably the least intense of the group. “I’m Kuchiki Rukia, by the way.”

Well, her surname certainly is, Hinamori thought. “I’m Hinamori Momo, Shirou-chan’s childhood friend.”

“Shirou-chan?!” They collectively egged him on, laughing at his clear embarrassment.

“Momo, stop using that nickname!”

Hinamori inhaled the clear scent of pine and camphor trees, reminding her of Baba cozy with her stacked fireplace and of stored jams in their pantry. She can’t wait to tell her Hitsugaya’s back. With the mended symbol of their bond on the crook of her arm, she entered the new phase of her life. Shifting grounds and great expectations.

-------

“Please greet Dr. Sousuke Aizen. He’s one of the foremost molecular biologists outside of Soul, and we are privileged to have him teach here. He will be your professor for biology. Keep in mind that you are arranged by your specialization, and he will be your mentor until you graduate in the academy,” Dr. Unohana, the academy director, announced to a class of fifteen.

Hinamori already outlined ten distinct thesis proposals in her first week. She made headstart on her readings too, already halfway on their given references for the year. If she was going to reunite fully with her friend, she needed to be a core member, and she will work hard for it.

Then, the name finally registered in her mind. Sousuke Aizen. The author of the most recent book she borrowed from the library which was also her inspiration for her thesis topics. She was engrossed with his theories, his writing style, and argumentations that she borrowed all his related books. If she was a radiologist, he was her Marie Curie. Sousuke Aizen was her teacher.

He had a magnetic presence, demanding all eyes on him. It was difficult not to notice him with his broad figure and soft tussle of dark brown hair. If eyes could smile, then he had those, albeit hidden behind square-shaped spectacles. His authoritative stance and the emanating kind disposition were confusing and difficult to compromise.

What an interesting person. Hinamori thought herself perceptive of people’s personalities based on her first impressions with them. That wasn’t successful with Hitsugaya though.

“So, should we start, or would you like me to immediately dismiss?”

It also perked up her interest that he was comfortable enough to teach without a lesson plan in hand or books. He would just talk conversationally with his students and still cover a multitude of topics. He wasn’t the stiff professor that Dr. Kuchiki was. Her classmates would seek him out after classes, asking him to join their group dinners. When she attended once, he noticed she wasn’t talking.

“Hinamori, are you still uncomfortable with your new learning setting?” Dr. Aizen asked. He gestured to refill her now empty teacup, and she obliged him with a nod. “I’ve heard you mostly got your knowledge from reading. Impressive.”

She blushed at the compliment. “I try to do my best, Dr. Aizen.”

He placed his cheek on his hand and stared at her. “You know, I also came from a rural area. Made it hard for me to mingle with the central town brats.”

Brats. She laughed at this sudden connection. “I’m also trying on that area, Sir. I made friends, but they’re on the other side of building.” Was it safe to share that?

“Oh, you have friends from the core Soul group? Fascinating. That means you’re really interesting Hinamori.” He smiled at her, tapping the empty tea pot. “You can talk to me anytime. My office is open for any concerns, academic or otherwise. I want you to know I can be on your friend list.”

The fact that he related to her situation made her happy. A renowned professor with the same roots as her still managed to get to the top. She felt seen. By the end of the semester, Hinamori volunteered to be his research assistant.

NEXT CHAPTER | 5 OF 12 | WANTING VALIDATIONS

[buttherainbowhasabeard]

The Father (2021)

*contains spoilers*

Based on the world-renowned and re-enacted stage play of the same name by French writer and first-time director Florian Zeller, ‘The Father’ is a very personal portrayal of a very universal experience. Not only is it a masterclass in acting by legendary Welshman Sir Anthony Hopkins, even more importantly than that, it’s an intimate and powerful portrait of a man’s life in the throes of dementia.

These days there is an emphasis on embracing ageing and the wisdom, life experiences and insights that come from a long life. For a lot of people, however, ageing gracefully isn’t an option, and instead of shuffling off this mortal coil with memories of a life well lived and their dignity and humanity intact, they have to struggle and fight their way out.

Most of us of know something about or someone with dementia or Alzheimer's and can quite easily substitute Hopkins’ character for one of our own loved ones, but the poignancy in the performance doesn’t rely on prior knowledge. We know how hard it is for the families but we don’t think about it enough from the sufferer’s point of view. ‘The Father’ puts Anthony’s upsetting, chaotic and confusing frame of mind front and centre.

Hopkins is a powerhouse, that we know, but when you think that he won his first Oscar playing the terrifyingly magnetic and metallic tongued cannibal Hannibal Lecter in ‘Silence of The Lambs’, and has now just won his second Oscar as the frighteningly forgetful and fragile Anthony in ‘The Father’, his talent and range really does astound. At the age of 83, he is still in his prime and taking on another great role, and arguably his greatest role to date.

Banal moments of everyday life are peppered with sudden shocks and utter bewilderment as Anthony battles to make sense of his confronting new world. His existence may seem small and within the confides of one room or one flat, but his struggle is of earth-shattering proportions. Although dialogue, inner monologues and interactions are often the key cinematic tools used to convey a character’s thoughts and feelings, someone with memory loss doesn’t have the neurological energy or cohesion to explain the confusion inside their heads, so as Anthony’s descent into full blown dementia escalates, the audience is taken with him. Feelings of distress, disorientation, frustration, anger, loneliness, exhaustion, and heart-break increasingly consume Anthony’s every waking hour, and as a viewer, you very quickly begin to share the same sentiments and concerns.

Stylistically, script and production design wise, the film’s psychological roller coaster ride is strongly supported by a physical assault on the senses too. Scenes are repeated with slight variations in dialogue and staging, day becomes night and then suddenly back to day again, rooms are rearranged in the blink of an eye and a revolving door of actors come and go as the same characters. It’s amazing just how claustrophobic it can get inside your own head!

You begin to wonder how many days, weeks, or months the story is being played out over, and was he in the nursing home the whole time or did we chronologically journey from his flat, to Anne’s and then the home? Did the trauma of losing his beloved youngest daughter Lucy to an accident bring on his dementia or was it predisposed? Like the disease that is rapidly ravaging his mind, the movie and the character of Anthony is complex, with emotions that run the gamut from gentle, charming and cooperative to irate, stubborn and paranoid. He was, until very recently, a man of great intelligence and independence, so losing control and purpose understandably rocks him to the core.

His daughter Anne (the always brilliant Olivia Colman and momentarily also played by Olivia Williams) has great love, empathy and patience, but like most carers, there is only so much of her father’s everchanging moods and manners that she can endure. Her husband Paul (a deliberately disjointed joint acting effort by Mark Gatiss and Rufus Sewell) barely hides his insensitivity and implies that Anthony is intentionally burdening them by exaggerating his symptoms. He mainly treats his father-in-law’s condition with contempt and cruelty, and unless it was another lapse in reality, even physically attacks him in one of many harrowing scenes.

And like the supporting cast, ‘The Father’ often has you too paralysed by indecision. No, Anne shouldn’t have to give up her whole life to care for her ill father, however when she eventually does, you resent her for leaving him when he needs her the most. In the traumatic finale, when in a brief moment of clarity, he realises the extent of his condition and circumstance, Anthony cries “I feel as if I’m losing all my leaves”. It’s such a potent and poetic line. He feels vulnerable, exposed, upset, lonely, lost and afraid. It’s impossible to sum up how agonising and isolating it must feel to know you are slowly slipping away, but this goes some way to explain it in the simplest and saddest of terms. And if Hopkins sobbing for his “mummy” doesn’t reduce you to tears then I don’t know what will.

There are brief moments of levity, from Anthony’s obsession with his watch (or lack of it) and Parisian’s not speaking English, to his energetic interactions with his young new carer Laura (Imogen Poots), but I’m not going to lie. When I say the smiles and laughs are brief, I mean just that. Ultimately, ‘The Father’ isn’t a movie that can accommodate a happy ending and it would do a huge disservice to the ethos of the story if it did. The reality of dementia is that it doesn’t get worse before it gets better, it just gets worse. Sufferers slowly and painfully fade away into oblivion and their loved ones have to watch from the sidelines, helpless to do anything about it.

I’ve never cried as many times as I did during and after this screening, but please don’t let that put you off. Although on an emotional level it’s not for the faint of heart, anybody with a heart will feel privileged to have witnessed one of the best performances of Anthony Hopkins’ stellar career and one of the most damaging and demoralising real-life issues affecting our ageing population today.

Whether by design or devastating irony, ‘The Father’ is a movie about forgetting, but for me (and no doubt so many others), it’s a movie I will never forget.

5/5 stars

‘The Father’ is in cinemas now!

[uwua3]

family.

🌸🌷 sakuma sakuya

summary: sakuya remembers when the dorms were silent, but he never wants to go back to that time ever again

dedication: written for my friends in the golden gays discord server. i love you all ♡

warnings: anxiety, family trauma, the future

author’s note: hi!!! this is the first writing piece i’ve published~ sorry for the delay; school kept me busy for so long! i hope you love it as much as i love my great friends!

i wanted to reflect on sakuya’s deep fear of being alone again that stemmed from an absent household. i believe there is power in reclaiming yourself from people who took advantage of you and doing your best for the people who love you ♡ this is a tribute to everyone who decided they wouldn’t be held back anymore at the expense of their families and found happiness in friends!

word count: 1,702

music: to die for – sam smith

Celebrations were being held inside the Mankai Company dorms as the four troupes partied, laughing about the Winter Troupe’s latest success against the God Troupe and effectively paying off the theatre’s debt. Stepping out into the courtyard, Sakuma Sakuya escaped the loud and irresponsible shenanigans that could only ensue between 20 boys with a quiet sigh of relief. The glass door closed behind him as the noise faded into the background. Unfortunately, the sound of something breaking and frantic screaming became a normal occurrence in the dorms. Leaning against the building’s brick exterior, Sakuya pushed his hands in his hoodie pockets before realizing he wore the same clothes at his Mankai auditions almost a year ago. The printed “SPRING” words across his chest was closest to his heart, making him subconsciously smile at the thought of his troupe members.

His Spring Troupe members... Sakuya could vividly recall meeting each and every single of them for the first time. Each one of them, at completely different parts of life, and they all found each other to be the start of something absolutely life–changing. Sakuya basked in the warmth of his fondness for his boys despite the cold frost solidifying his breath in the thin air. Yet, it didn’t feel like it was a winter dusk underneath the full moon. Sakuya swore he opened his eyes and was embraced by the spring warmth of blooming cherry blossoms above his head as he practiced by Hana High’s river with the Romeo & Julius script gripped in his hand. Sakuma Sakuya felt the same as he did right before his first performance as leader of the Spring Troupe: completely, and utterly, happy.

Masumi was Sakuya’s right hand man no matter what, where his harsh criticism and natural talent influenced all of them to become a troupe worthy of a sold out show. Tsuzuru’s persistence and unrelenting drive to be the best playwright possible inspired Sakuya to work even harder to expand his range of abilities. Citron’s perseverance and unwavering spirit that defined his charisma made Sakuya laugh into the night, reminiscing on Citron’s faulty Japanese that somehow got pulled all together to recite his otherworldly stories way past bedtime. Even Itaru’s rocky transition into acting was monumental, where it’s like the spark that died in the adult’s eyes was ignited back to life, like a firecracker in a summer festival. At the thought of summer, which led to Summer Troupe, then Autumn and Winter, Sakuya became overwhelmed with the thought of his friends, the boys he would do anything for just right behind him. Never in his life, did Sakuya ever fathom he could feel this happy. But, did he deserve them?

It was enough to make Sakuya suddenly cry alone, outside in the freezing cold as the rambunctious bunch continued celebrating into the hours of the next day. At first, a single drop fell from his eye and before he knew it, it was an onslaught of a repressed emotion he had to hide as the first Mankai company leader: fear. Dropping to a crouching position, Sakuya attempted to muffle his cries as he hid his face in his arms, pretending like it was the comfort of a beloved family member. Yet, no particular face came to mind. It was a blurry, distorted mixture of everyone who has ever abandoned him.

Nothing was permanent, if Sakuya learned anything from his family. He almost pushed out the feeling of that cold house but it came back in the form of his turbulent childhood, living to please and seeking to serve in any way possible as he was taken advantage of senselessly. You’d think after all that, he would know to disguise his true feelings and thoughts with his quick acting impulse, but Sakuya was just as naive as before. Sakuya was so honest in his face, his expressions betraying his intentions. Like right now, where his theatre company members were having the time of their lives together, without him.

How awful of him to be so sad on a night of fun and new beginnings! Sakuya sniffled as he roughly rubbed his eyes, muttering comforting lies to no avail. He was being selfish... maybe, he was really crying because Sakuya knew deep down he didn’t deserve any of this. The spring glow faded away as Sakuya opened his eyes again only to face the snowy scape of the courtyard. The gray stone was slippery with ice as the salt was scattered under his feet. At the center of it all, the building’s massive tree was rustling with the wind. Sakuya’s tears froze in their tracks as he exhaled, his body shaking as his thoughts ran a mile a minute. It didn’t feel like time existed in that moment, like the world stopped as he endured years of suffering and guilt in that very moment.

But, the world didn’t stop for anybody. In fact, for a moment, it sounded like the bubbly and catchy J-Pop blasting from Kazunari’s modern smartphone sounded even louder. It’s as if his ears became heightened to notice the amplified sound of the expensive alcohol Azuma swindled out of his eager customers spilling into multiple glasses. Sakuya heard the sizzling of the frying pan as Omi was feeding the peanut gallery, even Banri’s exaggerated mockery of Juza’s excitement for the desserts Tenma received as a gift from his newest movie set. Sakuya could envision it now: Taichi impressing Misumi with making triangular origami and enjoying the amazed grin on the latter’s innocent face, Muku & Yuki doing their schoolwork at the sofa before Yuki started cursing out the puppy pair for screaming, even the Winter troupe’s quiet disbelief but immense pride amongst themselves. Sakuya knew, for once, Hisoka wasn’t taking a nap. That’s how electric the energy was throughout the room. The party was in full swing, Sakuya even caught out of the corner of his eye Director and Sakyo sharing an intimate moment before it was ruined by the Director’s spices rant. Thank god Kamekichi and the manager didn’t hear it, or else a very sad Matsukawa would be paying a hefty sum to the scheming parrot.

Maybe he would vocally never admit it, but Sakuya felt himself turn as pink as the sakura petals that led him to a flyer for the Mankai tryouts. Sakuya felt the same as that moment: like he was staring into the face of his destiny. Sakuya pushed himself off the ground, catching his own mind off guard before it morphed into a phase of curiousity, like even his own brain couldn’t have any idea what could come next. Sakuya faced the moonlight shining upon him, like the stage spotlight he couldn’t wait to be underneath again. Sakuya could almost see the future in the clear surface.

Sakuya could see the next Spring Troupe play. The fantasy elements, the strong message of friendship, and the bond between him and his boys growing like the cherry blossoms. They would take a bow together in front of a standing ovation, where they’d celebrate by having a hanami picnic beneath the petals as they sat in the crowded park. They’d share their favorite parts and sleep that night on stage, just like the old times. He could imagine the spring nostalgia shifting into an exhilarating summer heat, even hearing the sound of traditional drums and booth workers advertising their games cutting the night air as chatters of his friends enveloped him in the best place possible to see the fireworks. The hot, humid summer would become a chilly and spooky autumn where they’d all have cool costumes and a competition to see who could trick & treat the most candy that night. It would move into the frigid but festive winter, as Secret Santa became too complex in a group of 20 as they would decorate the dorms to look like a Christmas bomb exploded. No matter what season it was, Sakuya knew they’d pull off whatever they put their heads to. The cycle would repeat another year. That was enough for now.

Sakuya stopped crying. There was nothing to be sad about; how could he when his true family was inside? Turning on his heel, Sakuya felt the warmth against his face as he opened the glass door to the cheers of his fellow Mankai members. He was right; Kazunari was DJ-ing with glowing cat ear headphones at the kitchen counter as he pushed the mic to his mouth with a wide, infectious grin.

“Just in time! Sakuma Sakuya, everybody! Everyone give it up for Mankai’s first member and leader ever!”

The room cheered even louder, pushing Sakuya into the group celebration as Yuki jokingly got on his case for letting the cold air in. But even then, Yuki’s smile reached his eyes as Sakuya took in everyone finally went quiet, waiting for his speech. They all looked towards him for guidance, for words of wisdom, something to remember for the rest of their lives. Then, it clicked. Sakuya hugged himself, the distorted face in his mind suddenly becoming 20. This was his family.

This home was warm. It was filled with endless, unconditional love & support. No hurtful judgement or prejudices, not even serious scorn for one another despite Juza and Banri & Sakyo and Yuki’s petty arguments. This was what family is: love, no matter what. Sakuya loved his brothers, his Mankai boys and his favorite Director. That was enough. They’re family.

Whether it was due to the sudden embarrassing attention or the quick beating of his resurrected heart, Sakuya smiled as he stood up on the coffee table, ignoring Sakyo’s comment about how they didn’t have the budget to fund a hospital visit if he fell. Picking up an opened soda can besides his feet, Sakuya lifted the discarded drink in the air as everyone mimicked his actions like it was a professional banquet. With absolute pure joy in his voice, Sakuya felt the tears threatening to pour from his eyes but for a completely different reason. They are happy, he is happy.

“To Mankai!”

“To Mankai!” The room chorused back with just as much love, and would do so for many, many more years.

[nitrateglow]

Favorite film discoveries of 2019

Every year, my new-to-me favorites list always shocks me in some way. This year, the sheer amount of movies made in the 2010s on display is INSANE by my standards. Of course, most of the modern movies here are throwbacks or tributes to older styles of cinema, so maybe it’s not that shocking in the long run.

Another running trend this year: movies that are old but not as dated as we would wish. Many of the older films here deal with xenophobia and political strife in ways that still feel shockingly prescient today-- the more things change...

ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (DIR. QUENTIN TARANTINO, 2019)

I never thought the day would come where my favorite movie of the year would actually be made after the 1970s, let alone by Quentin Tarantino. Then again, this movie is all about the end of Old Hollywood as well as a big love letter to the 1960s, so maybe it’s not that shocking a state of affairs. I adored this movie, the level of detail, the laidback yet elegaic vibe, the comedy and the relationships between all the characters. It was one of those movies where I loved even the scenes where nothing seems to be happening at all-- I mean, who knew Brad Pitt feeding his dog and watching TV could be entertaining?? But it is and I can't wait to see this one again!

INTENTIONS OF MURDER (DIR. SHOHEI IMAMURA, 1964)

Intentions of Murder has an insane premise, one that runs the risk of being tasteless: a housewife in a miserable, exploitative marriage is raped by a sickly burglar during a home invasion. Even worse, she can’t shake him, as he’s suddenly infatuated and wants her to run away with him to the city. And weirder still: her current existence is so miserable that she’s TEMPTED. While abuse and rape are grim subjects for any story, Intentions is actually about a woman coming into her own and finally standing strong against all these men trying to use her. It’s a weird blend of drama and dark comedy, a truly savage satire on patriarchy and class-snobbery.

JOKER (DIR. TODD PHILLIPS, 2019)

I went into this movie expecting to think it was overhyped and when I first left the theater, I was all ready to say “it’s good but not THAT good.” But it ended up haunting me for weeks afterward, and I found myself thinking about how everything just tied up so well together, from the grotty urban hellscape which serves as the setting to Phoenix’s brilliant performance. It reminded me a lot of A Clockwork Orange in how intimate it lets you get to this violent man while never pretending he is someone to be glamorized or imitated.

SIMON (DIR. MARSHALL BRICKMAN, 1980)

How do I even describe Simon? Alan Arkin is brainwashed by a group of overpaid intellectuals into believing he is descended from an alien toaster. Then he gets a messiah complex and starts gathering disciples as he rails against television, condiment packets, and muzak. It’s a little uneven at times, sure, but the satire is really inspired. The whole thing is like a combination of Mel Brooks, Stanley Kubrick, and Woody Allen’s styles, and it is quite hilarious for those who thrive on cult oddities.

PEEPING TOM (DIR. MICHAEL POWELL, 1960)

Though it came out the same year as Hitchcock’s Psycho and has been nearly as influential for horror cinema, Peeping Tom remains underseen by everyone save for film theorists. And what a shame that is, because this movie is more frightening than Psycho. Sure, that may be because Psycho is so predominant in popular culture and just so influential that it no longer has the same shock value, but there’s something about Peeping Tom that gets under my skin, something sad, even disgusting. I felt dirty after watching it-- and this is 2019!

MIDNIGHT MARY (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Loretta Young got one of her juiciest roles in this pre-code crime drama. Her Mary Martin is more than just a good girl forced into criminal circles-- she’s a complicated creature, compassionate and desperate and lonely and bitter and sensual all at once. This movie is a fast-paced, beautifully filmed ride, cloaked in that Depression-era cynicism that makes pre-code Hollywood of such interest to movie geeks the world over.

WILD BOYS OF THE ROAD (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Wild Boys of the Road is a quintessential Depression-era movie, relentless in its bleakness and rage. That the main characters are all starving kids only looking for work makes their struggles all the harder to watch. William Wellman is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors: his gritty style and compact storytelling are just perfect for a ripped-from-the-headlines drama such as this. And the “happy” ending has one little moment that just knocks any smile you have right off your mug. Absolutely see this.

THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING, THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING (DIR. NORMAN JEWISON, 1966)

Sometimes, when you watch a movie only because a favorite actor is in it, you get subjected to pure trash like Free and Easy (oh, the things I do for Buster Keaton). Other times, you get cute gems like The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming, which, as you probably guessed, I mainly sought out for Alan Arkin. But the whole movie is hilarious, the best kind of farce comedy, populated by enjoyable characters and a sweet-tempered humanism that grounds the wackiness. While a little overlong, this movie is quite underrated-- and sadly, its satire of American xenophobia and Cold War panic is not as dated as we would like to believe.

ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1976)

Who knew a political thriller where most people know the twist could be so intense and riveting? It’s about as nonsensical as feeling suspense when you watch a movie about the Titanic and hope the boat won’t sink-- but damn, it’s magical. All the President’s Men is real white-knuckle stuff, with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman projecting both youthful excitement and deep panic as they proceed with their investigation. It scarcely seems to have aged at all.

WHISPER OF THE HEART (DIR. YOSHIFUMI KONDOU, 1995)

There’s a scene near the end of Whisper of the Heart where the protagonist Shizuku shows the finished first draft of her fantasy novel to her first reader, the grandpa of one of her schoolmates. She weeps because it isn’t the perfect image she had in her head, despite how hard she worked on it, but the old man tells her that it takes polishing and discipline to make the work come to its full potential. Few movies about artists are so honest about how hard it can be, how unsupportive others can be in their demand that everyone be “practical.” As a writer who struggles to create and constantly doubts herself, this movie spoke strongly to me. I recommend it to any creative person.

THE PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (DIR. BRIAN DE PALMA, 1976)

I’d been wanting to see this movie since my high school phan days. Holy crap, is it WEIRDER than I could have ever imagined, a true camp masterpiece. I’m shocked it was never tuned into a stage show actually, but then again, we would miss those trippy camera angles and we wouldn’t have Paul Williams as one of the greatest villains of all time.

DUEL (DIR. STEVEN SPIELBERG, 1971)

When people talk about the best movies made in the “Hitchcock without Hitchcock directing” tradition, why is Duel so seldom mentioned? The scene in the cafe, packed with paranoid tension and tense camerawork, alone should qualify it. Duel is most known as the movie which put the young Steven Spielberg on the map. It’s quite different from his later work, grittier and less whimsical for sure. Even the ending seems almost nihilistic, depending on how you view it. But damn, if it isn’t fine filmmaking.

CAROL (DIR. TODD HAYNES, 2015)

This gorgeous throwback to Douglas Sirk melodramas is also one of the best romantic movies I’ve seen in a while. Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara have the sweetest, tenderest chemistry-- it was like seeing Lauren Bacall and Audrey Hepburn as love interests in a film. Unlike Sirk, there is little in the way of ripe melodrama here-- everything is underplayed, aching, mature. And I can say this is an adaptation that is better than the source book: it just feels so much warmer.

12 ANGRY MEN (DIR. SIDNEY LUMET, 1957

All I can say is that this was every bit equal to the hype. Common movie wisdom says people sitting and talking in a room is going to be boring on film, but movies like 12 Angry Men prove this is not so when you’ve got an excellently tense atmosphere, an inspired script, and a stable of fine actors to work with. Like The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming, this movie has not significantly aged-- much to society’s discredit.

A STAR IS BORN (DIR. GEORGE CUKOR, 1954)

Another movie I went into not expecting to love as much as I did. When movies from the 20s or 30s tended to get remakes in the 1950s, I always find them too garish and big, victims of glossy Cinemascope and overlong runtimes. Compared to the lean 1937 classic original, I expected sheer indulgence from this three-hour remake. Instead, I got my heart torn out all over again-- the longer runtime is used well, fleshing out the characters to a greater degree. Judy Garland and James Mason both give what might be the best efforts of their respective careers, and the satire of the celebrity machine remains as relevant and scathing as ever.

BLANCANIEVES (DIR. PABLO BERGER, 2012)

Oh, it feels like this movie was made for me specifically. It’s shot in gorgeous, expressionistic black-and-white. It’s set in the 1920s. It’s a clever adaptation of a classic fairy tale. It’s as funny and charming as it is bittersweet and macabre. Instead of more superhero movies, can we get more neo-silent movies like this? PLEASE?

THE FAVOURITE (DIR. YORGOS LANTHIMOS, 2018)

I’ve heard The Favourite described as a “bitchy lesbian Shakespeare play,” but this description, while a little true in terms of general tone, does not get to the heart of what makes this film brilliant. More than love or sex, this movie is about power-- particularly the corrupting influence of power. And it corrupts not only morals but love itself. Innocents become Machiavellian schemers. Lovers become sadomasochistic enemies. Good intentions turn to poison. This certainly isn’t a happy movie, but it is moving and, strangely enough, also hilarious. I was reminded of the chilly, satirical world of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon more than once-- and for me, that is not a bad movie to be reminded of.

ON THE WATERFRONT (DIR. ELIA KAZAN, 1954)

Another classic that’s been on my list forever that I was delighted to find worthy of its reputation. It’s a classic tale of redemption and social justice, perfectly acted and shot. While I still prefer A Streetcar Named Desire as far as Kazan is concerned, this might be a better movie in the objective sense. Actually, more than even Brando, Karl Malden is the acting highlight for me-- he plays a priest torn between staying silent or truly speaking for the Gospel by demanding justice for the poor parish he serves. Just brilliant work.

KLUTE (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1971)

A perfect thriller, just about, and a great example of the “NYC is hell on earth” subgenre of the 1960s and 1970s. Jane Fonda is a revelation: she feels so real, not at all like a starlet trying to seem normal if you know what I mean.

KISS KISS BANG BANG (DIR. SHANE BLACK, 2005)

As far as subversive noir goes, this is the most entertaining. I would put it up there with The Big Lebowski as far as goofy takes on Raymond Chandler are concerned-- I don’t even really know what to make of it, but I laughed my ass off anytime I wasn’t going “WHAT???”

What were your favorite film discoveries in 2019?

[h-sleepingirl]

“9 Persisting Misconceptions About Hypnosis”

A zine by sleepingirl and GleefulAbandon

(Access the downloadable and nicely formatted Google Doc here!)

Hey, there! Have you been turned on to the wonders of hypnokink? Do you feel like you've just had a bucket of shibboleths and tips and bits of wisdom dumped over your head, and they are now slowly dripping down your back? Are you thinking to yourself, "OK, I am finally getting the hang of this erotic hypnosis thing?"

Not so fast! Odds are a lot of the information you've received is, while given in good faith, mired in assumptions about the nature of hypnosis and the human mind that are not empirically true! And the kicker about a practice that takes advantage of suggestibility is that buying into these can make them more true! How’s that for a mental rut?

Here are 9 myths about hypnosis you are likely to encounter in your freaky journey!

(Full disclosure: We are experienced hypnotic players who are constantly exploring and growing, and we recognize that not everyone may share our perspective on all of these. But when we accept the oft-repeated principles we hear as incontrovertible truth without questioning them, we risk building a wall between us and further learning about the amazing, weird things we can do with our brains! This is not meant to disparage any person for their beliefs or experiences, and we welcome feedback and discussion!)

1. All hypnosis is self-hypnosis.

Yep, and all pain you feel when someone punches you in the thigh is your own brain making pain happen. CURSE YOU, BRAIN!

This tends to be an idiom that can cause more harm than good. It’s clearly not an empirical statement (how could it be?) though it is often taken as one. On the surface, it’s well-intentioned and trying to convey that subjects have agency and hypnosis isn’t mind control like you see in the movies. However, while it's good to know that subjects have the ability to cultivate a real sense of self-sufficiency, it minimizes connection with the hypnotist and the power that can be exchanged. Hypnosis is collaborative, and the hypnotist’s behavior absolutely affects trance, whether positively, or in bad situations, negatively! It takes two to do hypnosis with two, full stop.

When you hear this phrase, ask yourself, what is really being communicated here?

2. Hypnosis is distinctly different than meditation, subspace, etc.

Different how, exactly? Sexiness is not sufficient here, kids.

Well, here's a whole can of worms: Hypnosis as defined by hypnokink practitioners tends to be a wider umbrella than the clinical definition of hypnosis. There is also the concept of hypnosis as an altered state and then the concept of hypnosis as a set of practices. Pretty much any altered state could be called hypnosis when kinksters use it in hypnokink to commit dastardly deeds. Same with the (extraordinarily broad) set of practices that we take advantage of to fuck with brains.

Here’s the thing: hypnosis isn’t just one solid thing or state with one solid set of rules. Trance and brainfuckery are dynamic! We don’t really even have a great way of defining suggestibility, because we know that shoving someone into an altered state and then telling them, “You will experience xyz” is not really sufficient. And of course, a lot of stuff can get done outside of a traditional “trance.” Where is the line?

Spoilers: Any line we make is subjective. Meditation, when you potentially put yourself in an altered state and change the way you focus pretty much fits under that umbrella, too.

3. You can't make someone do something they "don't want to do" or go against "core values" with hypnosis.

We do things we don't want to do all the time, starting each day from when we wake up when our alarms go off. People drink alcohol and do things they wouldn't have otherwise done. People are talked into buying things they don’t want or need, or making complex decisions that don’t always have their best interests at heart. Not to mention that our broad-strokes “core beliefs” are changeable, sometimes with just a simple shift in perspective.

Human beings are dynamic and complex and exciting creatures, and we don't have a black box inside of us with ideas that are immutable to us. Change in belief and behavior is a part of how we function, and that’s WITHOUT hypnosis! Once again, this myth is well-intentioned, but an oversimplification that can backfire if someone is trying to process why they experienced a hypnotic scene differently than they thought they would.

4. Depth is the key to suggestibility.

Here's an idea: A swear jar but you have to put money in every time someone asks if they were "deep enough." Depth is a metaphor, but it's a useful one! It relates to your own subjective trance experience and how you experience intensifying it, which is hugely important self-knowledge. But it is not quantifiable, and there is not a simple correlation between depth and ability to access more trance phenomena. As with many things in hypnosis, it’s different for everyone and can be different at different times based on a huge number of variables.

And on that note…

5. Suggestibility scales are legit.

"But wait!" You might say, "These have been studied! What about things like the Stanford Susceptibility Scale?"

They're bad.

Academics, in good faith, tried to impose objective rules on altered states that run on the subjectivity and diversity of the human mind. People are different. Subjects are different. Alas, researchers at Stanford in 1959 (yes, that long ago) were mystified by this concept. And still, so are some today.

Really, Stanford peeps, amnesia is the most hypnotized a person can get? Some folks lose memories in trance right away but won't take to certain hallucinations. And some hallucinations are easier for some folks than others. Trying to create hypnotic rules for how hypnotizable you are is a losing game.

But speaking of different kinds of hallucinations...

6. Working with someone’s “primary modality” is the key to effective hypnosis.

The idea that of the five senses we each have one primary one that aids in our learning and that is best used to create hypnotic states and phenomena is not only limiting, it’s been debunked time and time again. The concept of “modalities” that is so prevalent in the erotic hypnosis world comes directly from NLP, where Richard Bandler and John Grinder stated that we had primary modalities — a “Preferred Representational System.” However, just like with learning styles, study after study after study has found no supporting evidence of this. In fact, in the ‘80s (yes, that long ago), Bandler himself said that this idea was no longer emphasized in NLP (regardless of the fact that it is still pervasive today).

And beyond this, yeah, you could spend your time using only visual cues and visual words and creating visual hallucinations, or you could actually utilize multiple senses, because spoiler alert that is how human beings experience the world. You're not trying to find a secret code that unlocks a shortcut to being a better subject, you're Dora the Goddamned Explorer and it's not just about finding the thing at the end; it's about chilling with Boots and Map.

7. “iM tOo AnAlYtIcAl To Be HyPnOtIzEd”

Also going in the swear jar is anyone saying they have trouble being hypnotized because they're "too analytical." Bruh. Hypnosis is not a game of chess wherein the hypnotist out-logics the subject to get them to comply. It's engaging your brain and letting you do more with it than you thought possible. This is definitely not downplaying the experience of people who have had a difficult time getting the experiences they are searching for, but more about The System(ic misunderstanding pervading hypnokink culture) getting us all down.

Being “thinky” doesn’t mean someone can’t be hypnotized (hypnosis =/= not thinking or altered thinking), it just means that you both use what you’ve got — hypnotist AND subject. Analyzing something doesn’t make it impossible to trance. Hypnosis should not be synonymous with “letting go.” It’s about changes in focus and engagement, oftentimes really subtle, especially for subjects who have preconceived notions of what it’s going to feel like. It’s dynamic, it doesn’t mean laser focus, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean blank-minded.

Subjects: Learn to love the way you analyze; notice shifts and changes, use it to be open to learning about how hypnosis feels for you as opposed to what you expect it to feel like. Understanding what your real subjective responses are is key to growing.

Hypnotists: While it might be helpful for some people, stop assuming that you necessarily have to overload or confuse them to get to the holy hypnotic grail of mindlessness; utilize their internal responses for the trance!

Here's a secret: If a hypnotist calls someone a "difficult subject," they mean they failed to connect with their partner in a way that they deemed hypnotic enough. This is on them, not the subject.

8. Your subconscious is like a quiet roommate chilling inside your head.

The metaphor of your subconscious (or unconscious mind) as someone with whom you can communicate is a useful one for a lot of people! It can put you in touch with how you're feeling and processing, and create fun surprises no one might expect. But it's just that: a metaphor. Your brain is not a director and an actor; it’s a beautifully complex amalgam of experiences and observations. You can play with treating your subconscious as a person, but recognize that there's not literally a man behind a curtain, and recognize that your interpretation of it might be flawed (i.e., don’t use your “unconscious mind” to negotiate under the assumption that this conscious personification is faultless and somehow knows better than you do).

9. Abreactions.

This is a huge one, and another one where the hypnosis scene has deviated from psychology (sometimes a good thing!). Clinically, an abreaction is a response with some emotional connection, and is in fact often used as a tool to create breakthroughs in therapy. In the hypnokink Scene, “abreaction” has also become a boogeyman, a synonym for "freak out.”

Can folks freak out during a hypnosis scene? Sure! Can they freak out during an impact scene? Of course! Can they freak out in the dairy aisle of the supermarket because the wrong song starts playing on the loudspeaker? Also, yes. But an abreaction isn't technically synonymous with freak-out. Technically, a giggle-fit during hypnosis can be an abreaction.

Here’s the thing: it might even be OK to appropriate the term “abreaction” to mean “negative reaction” in the hypnokink community, but we have to stop making that interchangeable with “unexpected reaction.” Of course a negative reaction is unexpected. But that doesn’t mean all unexpected reactions are negative. They happen absolutely all the time in hypnosis; demonizing all of them is unhealthy and unrealistic.

Well-intentioned practitioners of erotic hypnosis have put all their safety eggs in one basket: Caution against causing an abreaction, end the scene when you do, and you've accounted for the worst. But this is a scene that traffics in suggestibility; when you make out abreactions to be this looming, awful risk, you bring them to the fore, and when both players assume that that means an unexpected reaction is cause for panic, it creates unwarranted anxiety and problems. Not to mention that it greatly hinders the breadth and depth of what you can achieve together.

In short, you can and should learn to navigate emotional vulnerability and be confident and flexible in handling your partners’ responses, no matter how unexpected or intense they are. We're here for those reactions, folks, and not all of them are to be feared and fixed.

Sleepingirl is a switchy writer, presenter, and podcaster who joined the public kink scene in 2012. She’s had a life-long hypnofetish and is way too interested in brainwashing. She did the doodles for this zine, and look out for her Brainwashing Book coming soon! Check out her hypnokink podcast at twohypchicks.simplecast.fm and follow her: Twitter @h_sleepingirl, Tumblr @h-sleepingirl, FetLife @sleepingirl

GleefulAbandon is a queer, submissive hypnofetishist. She joined the BDSM/Hypnokink Scene in 2012, and teaches and writes about hypnosis from the subject’s perspective. She’s a sucker for a pocket watch. @gleefulabandon

[artycloudpop]

1hey are u bored at home, wanna chill and netflix....... but just can’t find some thing nice to watch? here’s a list of movies for u watch

A Ghost Story (2017)

Director David Lowery (Pete's Dragon) conceived this dazzling, dreamy meditation on the afterlife during the off-hours on a Disney blockbuster, making the revelations within even more awe-inspiring. After a fatal accident, a musician (Casey Affleck) finds himself as a sheet-draped spirit, wandering the halls of his former home, haunting/longing for his widowed wife (Rooney Mara). With stylistic quirks, enough winks to resist pretension (a scene where Mara devours a pie in one five-minute, uncut take is both tragic and cheeky), and a soundscape culled from the space-time continuum, A Ghost Story connects the dots between romantic love, the places we call home, and time -- a ghost's worst enemy.

Airplane! (1980)

This is one of the funniest movie of all time. Devised by the jokesters behind The Naked Gun, this disaster movie spoof stuffs every second of runtime with a physical gag (The nun slapping a hysterical woman!), dimwitted wordplay ("Don't call me, Shirley"), an uncomfortable moment of odd behavior ("Joey, have you ever seen a grown man naked?"), or some other asinine bit. The rare comedy that demands repeat viewings, just to catch every micro-sized joke and memorize every line.

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American Honey (2016)

Writer/director Andrea Arnold lets you sit shotgun for the travels of a group of wayward youth in American Honey, a seductive drama about a "mag crew" selling subscriptions and falling in and out of love with each other on the road. Seen through the eyes of Star, played by Sasha Lane, life on the Midwest highway proves to be directionless, filled with a stream of partying and steamy hookups in the backs of cars and on the side of the road, especially when she starts to develop feelings for Shia LaBeouf’s rebellious Jake. It’s an honest look at a group of disenfranchised young people who are often cast aside, and it’s blazing with energy. You’ll buy what they're selling.

Anna Karenina (2012)

Adapted by renowned playwright Tom Stoppard, this take on Leo Tolstoy's classic Russian novel is anything but stuffy, historical drama. Keira Knightley, Jude Law, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Domhnall Gleeson, Alicia Vikander are all overflowing with passion and desire, heating up the chilly backdrop of St. Petersburg. But it's director Joe Wright's unique staging -- full of dance, lush costuming, fourth-wall-breaking antics, and other theatrical touches -- that reinvent the story for more daring audiences.

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Apostle (2018)

For his follow-up to his two action epics, The Raid and The Raid 2, director Gareth Evans dials back the hand-to-hand combat but still keeps a few buckets of blood handy in this grisly supernatural horror tale. Dan Stevens stars as Thomas Richardson, an early 20th century opium addict traveling to a cloudy island controlled by a secretive cult that's fallen on hard times. The religious group is led by a bearded scold named Father Malcolm (Michael Sheen) who may or may not be leading his people astray. Beyond a few bursts of kinetic violence and some crank-filled torture sequences, Evans plays this story relatively down-the-middle, allowing the performances, the lofty themes, and the windswept vistas to do the talking. It's a cult movie that earns your devotion slowly, then all at once.

Back to the Future (1985)

Buckle into Doc's DeLorean and head to the 1950s by way of 1985 with the seminal time-travel series that made Michael J. Fox a household name. It's always a joy watching Marty McFly's race against the clock way-back-when to ensure history runs its course and he can get back to the present. Netflix also has follow-up Parts II and III, which all add up to a perfect rainy afternoon marathon.

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The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

The Coen brothers gave some big-name-director cred to Netflix by releasing their six-part Western anthology on the streaming service, and while it's not necessarily their best work, Buster Scruggs is clearly a cut above most Netflix originals. Featuring star turns from Liam Neeson, Tom Waits, Zoe Kazan, and more, the film takes advantage of Netflix's willingness to experiment by composing a sort of death fugue that unfolds across the harsh realities of life in Manifest Destiny America. Not only does it revel in the massive, sweeping landscapes of the American West, but it's a thoughtful meditation on death that will reveal layer after layer long after you finish.

Barbershop (2002)

If you've been sleeping on the merits of the Barbershop movies, the good news is it's never too late to get caught up. Revisit the 2002 installment that started Ice Cube's smack-talking franchise so you can bask in Cedric the Entertainer's hilarious wisdom, enjoy Eve's acting debut, and admire this joyful ode to community.

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Barry (2016)

In 1981, Barack Obama touched down in New York City to begin work at Columbia University. As Barry imagines, just days after settling into his civics class, a white classmate confronts the Barry with an argument one will find in the future president's Twitter @-mentions: "Why does everything always got to be about slavery?" Exaltation is cinematic danger, especially when bringing the life of a then-sitting president to screen. Barry avoids hagiography by staying in the moment, weighing race issues of a modern age and quieting down for the audience to draw its own conclusions. Devon Terrell is key, steadying his character as smooth-operating, socially active, contemplative fellow stuck in an interracial divide. Barry could be any half-black, half-white kid from the '80s. But in this case, he's haunted by past, present, and future.

Being John Malkovich (1999)

You can't doubt the audacity of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Anomalisa), whose first produced screenplay hinged on attracting the title actor to a script that has office drones discovering a portal into his mind. John Cusack, Catherine Keener, and Cameron Diaz combine to create an atmosphere of desperate, egomaniacal darkness, and by the end you'll feel confused and maybe a little slimy about the times you've participated in celebrity gawking.

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The Blackcoat's Daughter (2017)

Two young women are left behind at school during break... and all sorts of hell breaks loose. This cool, stylish thriller goes off in some strange directions (and even offers a seemingly unrelated subplot about a mysterious hitchhiker) but it all pays off in the end, thanks in large part to the three leads -- Emma Roberts, Lucy Boynton, and Kiernan Shipka -- and director Oz Perkins' artful approach to what could have been just another occult-based gore-fest.

Bloodsport (1988)

Jean-Claude Van Damme made a career out of good-not-great fluff. Universal Soldier is serviceable spectacle, Hard Target is a living cartoon, Lionheart is his half-baked take on On the Waterfront. Bloodsport, which owes everything to the legacy of Bruce Lee, edges out his Die Hard riff Sudden Death for his best effort, thanks to muscles-on-top-of-muscles-on-top-of-muscles fighting and Stan Bush's "Fight to Survive." Magic Mike has nothing on Van Damme's chiseled backside in Bloodsport, which flexes its way through a slow-motion karate-chop gauntlet. In his final face-off, Van Damme, blinded by arena dust, rage-screams his way to victory. The amount of adrenaline bursting out of Bloodsport demands a splash zone.

Blue Ruin (2013)

Before he went punk with 2016's siege thriller Green Room, director Jeremy Saulnier delivered this low-budget, darkly comic hillbilly noir. When Dwight Evans (Macon Blair) discovers that the man who killed his parents is being released from prison, he returns home to Virginia to claims his revenge and things quickly spin out of control. Like the Coen Brothers' Blood Simple, this wise-ass morality tale will make you squirm.

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Burning (2018)

Some mysteries simmer; this one smolders. In his adaptation of a Haruki Murakami short story, writer and director Lee Chang-dong includes many elements of the acclaimed author's slyly mischievous style -- cats, jazz, cooking, and an alienated male writer protagonist all pop up -- but he also invests the material with his own dark humor, stray references to contemporary news, and an unyielding sense of curiosity. We follow aimless aspiring novelist Lee Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in) as he reconnects with Shin Hae-mi (Jeon Jong-seo), a young woman he grew up with, but the movie never lets you get too comfortable in one scene or setting. When Steven Yeun's Ben, a handsome rich guy with a beautiful apartment and a passion for burning down greenhouses, appears, the film shifts to an even more tremulous register. Can Ben be trusted? Yeun's performance is perfectly calibrated to entice and confuse, like he's a suave, pyromaniac version of Tyler Durden. Each frame keeps you guessing.

Cam (2018)

Unlike the Unfriended films or this summer's indie hit Searching, this web thriller from director Daniel Goldhaber and screenwriter Isa Mazzei isn't locked into the visual confines of a computer screen. Though there's plenty of online screen time, allowing for subtle bits of commentary and satire, the looser style allows the filmmakers to really explore the life and work conditions of their protagonist, rising cam girl Alice (Madeline Brewer). We meet her friends, her family, and her customers. That type of immersion in the granular details makes the scarier bits -- like an unnerving confrontation in the finale between Alice and her evil doppelganger -- pop even more.

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Creep (2014)

Patrick Brice's found-footage movie is a no-budget answer to a certain brand of horror, but saying more would give away its sinister turns. Just know that the man behind the camera answered a Craigslist ad to create a "day in the life" video diary for Josef (Mark Duplass), who really loves life. Creep proves that found footage, the indie world's no-budget genre solution, still has life, as long as you have a performer like Duplass willing to go all the way.

The Death of Stalin (2017)

Armando Iannucci, the brilliant Veep creator, set his sights on Russia with this savage political satire. Based on a graphic novel, the film dramatizes the madcap, maniacal plots of the men jostling for power after their leader, Joseph Stalin, keels over. From there, backstabbing, furious insults, and general chaos unfolds. Anchored by performances from Shakespearean great Simon Russell Beale and American icon Steve Buscemi, it's a pleasure to see what the rest of the cast -- from Star Trek: Discovery's Jason Isaacs to Homeland's Rupert Friend -- do with Iannucci's eloquently brittle text.

Den of Thieves (2018)

If there's one thing you've probably heard about this often ridiculous bank robbery epic, it's that it steals shamelessly from Michael Mann's crime saga Heat. The broad plot elements are similar: There's a team of highly-efficient criminals led by a former Marine (Pablo Schreiber) and they must contend with a obsessive, possibly unhinged cop (Gerard Butler) over the movie's lengthy 140 minute runtime.  A screenwriter helming a feature for the first time, director Christian Gudegast is not in the same league as Mann as a filmmaker and Butler, sporting unflattering tattoos and a barrel-like gut, is hardly Al Pacino. But everyone is really going for it here, attempting to squeeze every ounce of Muscle Milk from the bottle.

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Divines (2016)

Thrillers don't come much more propulsive or elegant than Houda Benyamina's Divines, a heartwarming French drama about female friendship that spirals into a pulse-pounding crime saga. Rambunctious teenager Dounia (Oulaya Amamra) and her best friend Maimouna (Déborah Lukumuena) begin the film as low-level shoplifters and thieves, but once they fall into the orbit of a slightly older, seasoned drug dealer named Rebecca (Jisca Kalvanda), they're on a Goodfellas-like trajectory. Benyamina offsets the violent, gritty genre elements with lyrical passages where Dounia watches her ballet-dancer crush rehearse his routines from afar, and kinetic scenes of the young girls goofing off on social media. It's a cautionary tale told with joy, empathy, and an eye for beauty.

Dolemite Is My Name (2019)

Eddie Murphy has been waiting years to get this movie about comedian and blaxploitation star Rudy Ray Moore made, and you can feel his joy in finally getting to play this role every second he's on screen. The film, directed by Hustle & Flow's Craig Brewer, charts how Moore rose from record store employee, to successful underground comedian, to making his now-cult classic feature Dolemite by sheer force of passion. It's thrilling (and hilarious) to watch Murphy adopt Moore's Dolemite persona, a swaggering pimp, but it's just as satisfying to see the former SNL star capture his character at his lowest points. He's surrounded by an ensemble that matches his infectious energy.

The Edge of Seventeen (2016)

As romanticized as adolescence can be, it’s hard being young. Following the high school experience of troubled, overdramatic Nadine (Hailee Steinfeld), The Edge of Seventeen portrays the woes of adolescence with a tender, yet appropriately cheeky tone. As if junior year isn’t hellish enough, the universe essentially bursts into flames when Nadine finds out her best friend is dating her brother; their friendship begins to dissolve, and she finds the only return on young love is embarrassment and pain. That may all sound like a miserable premise for a young-adult movie, except it’s all painfully accurate, making it endearingly hilarious -- and there’s so much to love about Steinfeld’s self-aware performance.

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Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

Romance and love are nothing without the potential for loss and pain, but most of us would probably still consider cutting away all the worst memories of the latter. Given the option to eradicate memories of their busted relationship, Jim Carrey's Joel and Kate Winslet's Clementine go through with the procedure, only to find themselves unable to totally let go. Science fiction naturally lends itself to clockwork mechanisms, but director Michel Gondry and screenwriter Charlie Kaufman never lose the human touch as they toy with the kaleidoscope of their characters' hearts and minds.

The Evil Dead (1981)

Before Bruce Campbell's Ash was wielding his chainsaw-arm in Army of Darkness and on Starz's Ash Vs. Evil Dead, he was just a good looking guy hoping to spend a nice, quiet vacation in a cabin with some friends. Unfortunately, the book of the dead had other plans for him. With this low-budget horror classic, director Sam Raimi brings a surprising degree of technical ingenuity to bear on the splatter-film, sending his camera zooming around the woods with wonder and glee. While the sequels double-downed on laughs, the original Evil Dead still knows how to scare.

The Firm (1993)

The '90s were a golden era of sleek, movie-star-packed legal thrillers, and they don't get much better than director Sydney Pollack's The Firm. This John Grisham adaptation has a little bit of everything -- tax paperwork, sneering mobsters, and Garey Busey, for starters -- but there's one reason to watch this movie: the weirdness of Tom Cruise. He does a backflip in this movie. What else do you need to know?

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The Florida Project (2017)

Sean Baker's The Florida Project nuzzles into the swirling, sunny, strapped-for-cash populace of a mauve motel just within orbit of Walt Disney World. His eyes are Moonee, a 6-year-old who adventures through abandoned condos, along strip mall-encrusted highway, and across verdant fields of overgrown brush like Max in Where the Wild Things Are. But as gorgeous as the everything appears -- and The Florida Project looks stunning -- the world around here is falling apart, beginning with her mother, an ex-stripper turning to prostitution. The juxtaposition, and down-to-earth style, reconsiders modern America in the most electrifying way imaginable.

Frances Ha (2012)

Before winning hearts and Oscar nominations with her coming-of-age comedy Lady Bird, Greta Gerwig starred in the perfect companion film, about an aimless 27-year-old who hops from New York City to her hometown of Sacramento to Paris to Poughkeepsie and eventually back to New York in hopes of stumbling into the perfect job, the perfect relationship, and the perfect life. Directed by Noah Baumbach (The Meyerowitz Stories), and co-written by both, Frances Ha is a measured look at adult-ish life captured the kind of intoxicating black and white world we dream of living in.

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Fyre: The Greatest Party That Never Happened (2019)

Everyone's favorite disaster of a festival received not one, but two streaming documentaries in the same week. Netflix's version has rightly faced some criticism over its willingness to let marketing company Fuck Jerry off the hook (Jerry Media produced the doc), but that doesn't take away from the overall picture it portrays of the festival's haphazard planning and the addiction to grift from which Fyre's founder, Billy McFarland, apparently suffers. It's schadenfreude at its best.

Gerald's Game (2017)

Like his previous low-budget Netflix-released horror release, Hush, a captivity thriller about a deaf woman fighting off a masked intruder, Mike Flanagan's Stephen King adaptation of Gerald's Game wrings big scares from a small location. Sticking close to the grisly plot details of King's seemingly "unfilmable" novel, the movie chronicles the painstaking struggles of Jessie Burlingame (Carla Gugino) after she finds herself handcuffed to a bed in an isolated vacation home when her husband, the titular Gerald, dies from a heart attack while enacting his kinky sexual fantasies. She's trapped -- and that's it. The premise is clearly challenging to sustain for a whole movie, but Flanagan and Gugino turn the potentially one-note set-up into a forceful, thoughtful meditation on trauma, memory, and resilience in the face of near-certain doom.

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Good Time (2017)

In this greasy, cruel thriller from Uncut Gems directors the Safdie brothers, Robert Pattinson stars as Connie, a bank robber who races through Queens to find enough money to bail out his mentally disabled brother, who's locked up for their last botched job. Each suffocating second of Good Time, blistered by the neon backgrounds of Queens, New York and propelled by warped heartbeat of Oneothrix Point Never's synth score, finds Connie evading authorities by tripping into an even stickier situation.

Green Room (2015)

Green Room is a throaty, thrashing, spit-slinging punk tune belted through an invasion-movie microphone at max volume. It's nasty -- and near-perfect. As a band of 20-something rockstars recklessly defend against a neo-Nazi battalion equipped with machetes, shotguns, and snarling guard dogs, the movie blossoms into a savage coming-of-age tale, an Almost Famous for John Carpenter nuts. Anyone looking for similar mayhem should check out director Jeremy Saulnier's previous movie, the low-budget, darkly comic hillbilly noir, Blue Ruin, also streaming on Netflix.

The Guest (2014)

After writer-director Adam Wingard notched a semi-sleeper horror hit with 2011's You're Next, he'd earned a certain degree of goodwill among genre faithful and, apparently, with studio brass. How else to explain distribution for his atypical thriller The Guest through Time Warner subsidiary Picturehouse? Headlined by soon-to-be megastar Dan Stevens and kindred flick It Follows' lead scream queen Maika Monroe, The Guest introduces itself as a subtextual impostor drama, abruptly spins through a blender of '80s teen tropes, and ultimately reveals its true identity as an expertly self-conscious straight-to-video shoot 'em up, before finally circling back on itself with a well-earned wink. To say anymore about the hell that Stevens' "David" unleashes on a small New Mexico town would not only spoil the fun, but possibly get you killed.

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The Hateful Eight (2015)

Quentin Tarantino has something to say about race, violence, and American life, and it's going to ruffle feathers. Like Django Unchained, the writer-director reflects modern times on the Old West, but with more scalpel-sliced dialogue, profane poetry, and gore. Stewed from bits of Agatha Christie, David Mamet, and Sam Peckinpah, The Hateful Eight traps a cast of blowhards (including Samuel L. Jackson as a Civil War veteran, Kurt Russell as a bounty hunter known as "The Hangman," and Jennifer Jason Leigh as a psychopathic gang member) in a blizzard-enveloped supply station. Tarantino ups the tension by shooting his suffocating space in "glorious 70mm." Treachery and moral compromise never looked so good.

High Flying Bird (2019)

High Flying Bird is a basketball film that has little to do with the sport itself, instead focusing on the behind-the-scenes power dynamics that play out during an NBA lockout. At the center of the Steven Soderbergh movie -- shot on an iPhone, because that's what he does now -- is André Holland's Ray Burke, a sports agent trying to protect his client's interests while also disrupting a corrupt system. It's not an easy tightrope to walk, and, as you might expect, the conditions of the labor stoppage constantly change the playing field. With his iPhone mirroring the NBA's social media-heavy culture, and appearances from actual NBA stars lending the narrative heft, Soderbergh experiments with Netflix's carte blanche and produces a unique film that adds to the streaming service's growing list of original critical hits.

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Hugo (2011)

Martin Scorsese hit pause on mob violence and Rolling Stones singles to deliver one of the greatest kid-centric films in eons. Following Hugo (Asa Butterfield) as he traces his own origin story through cryptic automaton clues and early 20th-century movie history, the grand vision wowed in 3-D and still packs a punch at home.

I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House (2016)

A meditative horror flick that's more unsettling than outright frightening, I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House follows the demise of Lily, a live-in nurse (Ruth Wilson) who's caring for an ailing horror author. As Lily discovers the truth about the writer's fiction and home, the lines between the physical realm and the afterlife blur. The movie's slow pacing and muted escalation might frustrate viewers craving showy jump-scares, but writer-director Oz Perkins is worth keeping tabs on. He brings a beautiful eeriness to every scene, and his story will captivate patient streamers. Fans should be sure to check out his directorial debut, The Blackcoat's Daughter.

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I Don't Feel at Home in This World Anymore (2017)

In this maniacal mystery, Ruth (Melanie Lynskey), a nurse, and her rattail-sporting, weapon-obsessed neighbor Tony (Elijah Wood) hunt down a local burglar. Part Cormac McCarthy thriller, part wacky, Will Ferrell-esque comedy, I Don't Feel at Home in This World Anymore is a cathartic neo-noir about everyday troubles. Director Macon Blair's not the first person to find existential enlightenment at the end of an amateur detective tale, but he might be the first to piece one together from cussing octogenarians, ninja stars, Google montages, gallons of Big Red soda, upper-deckers, friendly raccoons, exploding body parts, and the idiocy of humanity.

Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

With a bullwhip, a leather jacket, and an "only Harrison Ford can pull this off" fedora, director Steven Spielberg invented the modern Hollywood action film by doing what he does best: looking backward. As obsessed as his movie-brat pal and collaborator George Lucas with the action movie serials of their youth, the director mined James Bond, Humphrey Bogart, Westerns, and his hatred of Nazis to create an adventure classic. To watch Raiders of the Lost Ark now is to marvel at the ingenuity of specific sequences (the boulder! The truck scene! The face-melting!) and simply groove to the self-deprecating comic tone (snakes! Karen Allen! That swordsman Indy shoots!). The past has never felt so alive.

Inside Man (2006)

Denzel Washington is at his wily, sharp, and sharply dressed best as he teams up once again with Spike Lee for this wildly entertaining heist thriller. He's an NYPD hostage negotiator who discovers a whole bunch of drama when a crew of robbers (led by Clive Owen) takes a bank hostage during a 24-hour period. Jodie Foster also appears as an interested party with uncertain motivations. You'll have to figure out what's going on several times over before the truth outs.

DRAFTHOUSE FILMS

The Invitation (2015)

This slow-burn horror-thriller preys on your social anxiety. The film's first half-hour, which finds Quarry's Logan Marshall-Green arriving at his ex-wife's house to meet her new husband, plays like a Sundance dramedy about 30-something yuppies and their relationship woes. As the minutes go by, director Karyn Kusama (Jennifer's Body) burrows deeper into the awkward dinner party, finding tension in unwelcome glances, miscommunication, and the possibility that Marshall-Green's character might be misreading a bizarre situation as a dangerous one. We won't spoil what happens, but let's just say this is a party you'll be telling your friends about.

Ip Man (2008)

There aren't many biopics that also pass for decent action movies. Somehow, Hong Kong action star Donnie Yen and director Wilson Yip made Ip Man (and three sequels!) based on the life of Chinese martial arts master Yip Kai-man, who famously trained Bruce Lee. What's their trick to keeping this series fresh? Play fast and loose with the facts, up the melodrama with each film, and, when in doubt, cast Mike Tyson as an evil property developer. The fights are incredible, and Yen's portrayal of the aging master still has the power to draw a few tears from even the most grizzled tough guy.

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The Irishman (2019)

Opening with a tracking shot through the halls of a drab nursing home, where we meet a feeble old man telling tall tales from his wheelchair, The Irishman delights in undercutting its own grandiosity. All the pageantry a $150 million check from Netflix can buy -- the digital de-aging effects, the massive crowd scenes, the shiny rings passed between men -- is on full display. Everything looks tremendous. But, like with 2013's The Wolf of Wall Street, the characters can't escape the fundamental spiritual emptiness of their pursuits. In telling the story of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), a World War II veteran and truck driver turned mob enforcer and friend to labor leader Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), director Martin Scorsese and screenwriter Steven Zaillian construct an underworld-set counter-narrative of late 20th century American life. Even with a 209 minute runtime, every second counts.

It Comes at Night (2017)

In this post-apocalyptic nightmare-and-a-half, the horrors of humanity, the strain of chaotic emotions pent up in the name of survival, bleed out through wary eyes and weathered hands. The setup is blockbuster-sized -- reverts mankind to the days of the American frontier, every sole survivor fights to protect their families and themselves -- but the drama is mano-a-mano. Barricaded in a haunted-house-worthy cabin in the woods, Paul (Edgerton) takes in Will (Abbott) and his family, knowing full well they could threaten his family's existence. All the while, Paul's son, Trevor, battles bloody visions of (or induced by?) the contagion. Shults directs the hell out of every slow-push frame of this psychological thriller, and the less we know, the more confusion feels like a noose around our necks, the scarier his observations become.

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Jupiter Ascending (2015)

Jupiter Ascending is one of those "bad" movies that might genuinely be quite good. Yes, Channing Tatum is a man-wolf and Mila Kunis is the princess of space and bees don't sting space royalty and Eddie Redmayne hollers his little head off about "harvesting" people -- but what makes this movie great is how all of those things make total, absolute sense in the context of the story. The world the Wachowskis (yes, the Wachowskis!) created is so vibrant and strange and exciting, you almost can't help but get drawn in, even when Redmayne vamps so hard you're afraid he's about to pull a muscle. (And if you're a ballet fan, we have some good news for you.)

Jurassic Park (1993)

Perhaps the only movie that ever truly deserved a conversion to a theme-park ride, Steven Spielberg's thrilling adaptation of the Michael Crichton novel brought long-extinct creatures back to life in more ways than one. Benevolent Netflix gives us more than just the franchise starter, too: The Lost World and JP3 sequels are also available, so you can make a marathon of it.

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Killing Them Softly (2012)

Brad Pitt doesn't make conventional blockbusters anymore -- even World War Z had epidemic-movie ambitions -- so it's not surprising that this crime thriller is a little out there. Set during the financial crisis and presidential election of 2008, the film follows Pitt's hitman character as he makes sense of a poker heist gone wrong, leaving a trail of bodies and one-liners along the way. Mixed in with the carnage, you get lots of musings about the economy and American exceptionalism. It's not subtle -- there's a scene where Scoot McNairy and Ben Mendelsohn do heroin while the Velvet Underground's "Heroin" plays -- but, like a blunt object to the head, it gets the job done.

Lady Bird (2017)

The dizzying, frustrating, exhilarating rite of passage that is senior year of high school is the focus of actress Greta Gerwig's first directorial effort, the story of girl named Lady Bird (her given name, in that "it’s given to me, by me") who rebels against everyday Sacramento, California life to obtain whatever it is "freedom" turns out to be. Laurie Metcalf is an understated powerhouse as Lady Bird's mother, a constant source of contention who doggedly pushes her daughter to be successful in the face of the family's dwindling economic resources. It's a tragic note in total complement to Gerwig's hysterical love letter to home, high school, and the history of ourselves.

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The Lobster (2016)

Greek style master Yorgos Lanthimos' dystopian allegory against romance sees Colin Farrell forced to choose a partner in 45 days or he'll be turned into an animal of his choice, which is a lobster. Stuck in a group home with similarly unlucky singles, Farrell's David decides to bust out and join other renegades in a kind of anti-love terror cell that lives in the woods. It's part comedy of manners, part futuristic thriller, and it looks absolutely beautiful -- Lanthimos handles the bizarre premise with grace and a naturalistic eye that reminds the viewer that humans remain one of the most interesting animals to exist on this planet.

Mad Max (1979)

Before Tom Hardy was grunting his way through the desert and crushing tiny two-headed reptiles as Max Rockatansky, there was Mel Gibson. George Miller's 1979 original introduces the iconic character and paints the maximum force of his dystopian mythology in a somewhat more grounded light -- Australian police factions, communities, and glimmers of hope still in existence. Badass homemade vehicles and chase scenes abound in this taut, 88-minute romp. It's aged just fine.

Magic Mike (2012)

Steven Soderbergh's story of a Tampa exotic dancer with a heart of gold (Channing Tatum) has body-rolled its way to Netflix. Sexy dance routines aside, Mike's story is just gritty enough to be subversive. Did we mention Matthew McConaughey shows up in a pair of ass-less chaps?

The Master (2012)

Loosely inspired by the life of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard -- Dianetics buffs, we strongly recommend Alex Gibney's Going Clear documentary as a companion piece -- The Master boasts one of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman’s finest performances, as the enigmatic cult leader Lancaster Dodd. Joaquin Phoenix burns just as brightly as his emotionally stunted, loose-cannon protege Freddie Quell, who has a taste for homemade liquor. Paul Thomas Anderson’s cerebral epic lends itself to many different readings; it’s a cult story, it's a love story, it's a story about post-war disillusionment and the American dream, it's a story of individualism and the desire to belong. But the auteur's popping visuals and heady thematic currents will still sweep you away, even if you’re not quite sure where the tide is taking you.

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The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected) (2017)

When Danny (Adam Sandler), Matthew (Ben Stiller) and Jean (Elizabeth Marvel), three half-siblings from three different mothers, gather at their family brownstone in New York to tend to their ailing father (Dustin Hoffman), a lifetime of familial politics explode out of every minute of conversation. Their narcissistic sculptor dad didn't have time for Danny. Matthew was the golden child. Jean was weird… or maybe disturbed by memories no one ever knew. Expertly sketched by writer-director Noah Baumbach (The Squid and the Whale) this memoir-like portrait of lives half-lived is the kind of bittersweet, dimensional character comedy we're now used to seeing told in three seasons of prestige television. Baumbach gives us the whole package in two hours.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

The legendary British comedy troupe took the legend of King Arthur and offered a characteristically irreverent take on it in their second feature film. It's rare for comedy to hold up this well, but the timelessness of lines like, "I fart in your general direction!" "It's just a flesh wound," and "Run away!" makes this a movie worth watching again and again.

A24

Moonlight (2016)

Chronicling the boyhood years, teenage stretch, and muted adult life of Chiron, a black gay man making it in Miami, this triptych altarpiece is at once hyper-specific and cosmically universal. Director Barry Jenkins roots each moment in the last; Chiron's desire for a lost lover can't burn in a diner booth over a bottle of wine without his beachside identity crisis years prior, blurred and violent, or encounters from deeper in his past, when glimpses of his mother's drug addiction, or the mentoring acts of her crack supplier, felt like secrets delivered in code. Panging colors, sounds, and the delicate movements of its perfect cast like the notes of a symphony, Moonlight is the real deal, a movie that will only grow and complicate as you wrestle with it.

Mudbound (2017)

The South's post-slavery existence is, for Hollywood, mostly uncharted territory. Rees rectifies the overlooked stretch of history with this novelistic drama about two Mississippi families working a rain-drenched farm in 1941. The white McAllans settle on a muddy patch of land to realize their dreams. The Jacksons, a family of black sharecroppers working the land, have their own hopes, which their neighbors manage to nurture and curtail. To capture a multitude of perspectives, Mudbound weaves together specific scenes of daily life, vivid and memory-like, with family member reflections, recorded in whispered voice-over. The epic patchwork stretches from the Jackson family dinner table, where the youngest daughter dreams of becoming a stenographer, to the vistas of Mississippi, where incoming storms threaten an essential batch of crops, to the battlefields of World War II Germany, a harrowing scene that will affect both families. Confronting race, class, war, and the possibility of unity, Mudbound spellbinding drama reckons with the past to understand the present.

NETFLIX

My Happy Family (2017)

At 52, Manana (Ia Shughliashvili) packs a bag and walks out on her husband, son, daughter, daughter's live-in boyfriend, and elderly mother and father, all of whom live together in a single apartment. The family is cantankerous and blustery, asking everything of Manana, who spends her days teaching better-behaved teenagers about literature. But as Nana Ekvtimishvili and Simon Groß's striking character study unfolds, the motivation behind Manana's departure is a deeper strain of frustration, despite what her brother, aunts, uncles, and anyone else who can cram themselves into the situation would like us to think. Anchored by Ia Shughliashvili's stunningly internal performance, and punctured by a dark sense of humor akin to Darren Aronofsky's mother! (which would have been the perfect alternate title), My Happy Family is both delicate and brutal in its portrayal of independence, and should get under the skin of anyone with their own family drama.

The Naked Gun (1988)

The short-lived Dragnet TV spoof Police Squad! found a second life as The Naked Gun action-comedy movie franchise, and the first installment goes all in on Airplane! co-star Leslie Nielsen's brand of straight-laced dementia. Trying to explain The Naked Gun only makes the stupid sound stupider, but keen viewers will find jokes on top of jokes on top of jokes. It's the kind of movie that can crack "nice beaver," then pass a stuffed beaver through the frame and actually get away with it. Nielsen has everything to do with it; his Frank Drebin continues the grand Inspector Clouseau tradition in oh-so-'80s style.

The Notebook (2004)

"If you’re a bird, I’m a bird." It's a simple statement and a declaration of devotion that captures the staying power of this Nicholas Sparks classic. The film made Ryan Gosling a certified heartthrob, charting his working class character Noah's lovelorn romance with Rachel McAdam's wealthy character Allie. The star-crossed lovers narrative is enough to make even the most cynical among us swoon, but given that their story is told through an elderly man reading (you guessed it!) a notebook to a woman with dementia, it hits all of the tragic romance benchmarks to make you melt. Noah's commitment to following his heart -- and that passionate kiss in the rain -- make this a love story for the ages.

NETFLIX

Okja (2017)

This wild ride, part action heist, part Miyazaki-like travelogue, and part scathing satire, is fueled by fairy tale whimsy -- but the Grimm kind, where there are smiles and spilled blood. Ahn Seo-hyun plays Mija, the young keeper of a "super-pig," bred by a food manufacturer to be the next step in human-consumption evolution. When the corporate overlords come for her roly-poly pal, Mija hightails it from the farm to the big city to break him out, crossing environmental terrorists, a zany Steve Irwin-type (Gyllenhaal), and the icy psychos at the top of the food chain (including Swinton's childlike CEO) along the way. Okja won't pluck your heartstrings like E.T., but there's grandeur in its frenzy, and the film's cross-species friendship will strike up every other emotion with its empathetic, eco-friendly, and eccentric observations.

On Body and Soul (2017)

This Hungarian film earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Film, and it's easy to see why. The sparse love story begins when two slaughterhouse employees discover they have the same dream at night, in which they're both deer searching the winter forest for food. Endre, a longtime executive at the slaughterhouse, has a physically damaged arm, whereas Maria is a temporary replacement who seems to be on the autism spectrum. If the setup sounds a bit on-the-nose, the moving performances and the unflinching direction save On Body and Soul from turning into a Thomas Aquinas 101 class, resulting in the kind of bleak beauty you can find in a dead winter forest.

NETFLIX

The Other Side of the Wind (2018)

Don't go into Orson Welles' final film expecting it to be an easy watch. The Other Side of the Wind, which follows fictional veteran Hollywood director Jake Hannaford (tooootally not modeled after Welles himself) and his protegé (also tooootally not a surrogate for Welles' own friend and mentee Peter Bogdanovich, who also plays the character) as they attend a party in celebration of Hannaford's latest film and are beset on all sides by Hannaford's friends, enemies, and everyone in between. The film, which Welles hoped would be his big comeback to Hollywood, was left famously unfinished for decades after his death in 1985. Thanks to Bogdanovich and producer Frank Marshall, it was finally completed in 2018, and the result is a vibrant and bizarre throwback to Welles' own experimental 1970s style, made even more resonant if you know how intertwined the movie is with its own backstory. If you want to dive even deeper, Netflix also released a documentary about the restoration and completion of the film, They'll Love Me When I'm Dead, which delves into Welles' own complicated and tragic relationship with Hollywood and the craft of moviemaking.

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)

Guillermo Del Toro’s dark odyssey Pan’s Labyrinth takes a fantasy setting to mirror the horrible political realities of the human realm. Set in 1940s Falangist Spain, the film documents the hero’s journey of a young girl and stepdaughter of a ruthless Spanish army officer as she seeks an escape from her war-occupied world. When a fairy informs her that her true destiny may be as the princess of the underworld, she seizes her chance. Like Alice in Wonderland if Alice had gone to Hell instead of down the rabbit hole, the Academy Award-winning film is a wondrous, frightening fairy tale where that depicts how perilous the human-created monster of war can be.

Paranormal Activity (2007)

This documentary-style film budgeted at a mere $15,000 made millions at the box office and went on to inspire a number of sequels, all because of how well its scrappiness lent to capturing what feels like a terrifying haunted reality. Centered on a young couple who is convinced an evil spirit is lurking in their home, the two attempt to capture its activity on camera, which, obviously, only makes their supernatural matters worse. It leans on found footage horror tropes made popular by The Blair Witch Project and as it tessellates between showing the viewer what’s captured on their camcorders and the characters’ perspectives, it’s easy to get lost in this disorienting supernatural thriller.

UNIVERSAL PICTURES

Poltergeist (1982)

If you saw Poltergeist growing up, chances are you’re probably equally as haunted by Heather O’Rourke as she is in the film, playing a little girl tormented by ghosts in her family home. This Steven Spielberg-penned, Tobe Hooper-directed (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre) paranormal flick is a certified cult classic and one of the best horror films of all time, coming from a simple premise about a couple whose home is infested with spirits obsessed with reclaiming the space and kidnapping their daughter. Poltergeist made rearranged furniture freaky, and you may remember a particularly iconic scene with a fuzzed out vintage television set. It’s may be nearly 40 years old, but the creepiness holds up.

Pride & Prejudice (2005)

Taking Jane Austen's literary classic and tricking it out with gorgeous long takes, director Joe Wright turns this tale of manners into a visceral, luminescent portrait of passion and desire. While Succession's Matthew MacFadyen might not make you forget Colin Firth from 1995's BBC adaptation, Keira Knightley is a revelation as the tough, nervy Lizzie Bennett. With fun supporting turns from Donald Sutherland, Rosamund Pike, and Judi Dench, it's a sumptuous period romance that transports you from the couch to the ballroom of your dreams -- without changing out of sweatpants.

NETFLIX

Private Life (2018)

Over a decade since the release of her last dark comedy, The Savages, writer and director Tamara Jenkins returned with a sprawling movie in the same vein: more hyper-verbal jerks you can't help but love. Richard (Paul Giamatti) and Rachel (Kathryn Hahn) are a Manhattan-dwelling couple who have spent the last few years attempting to have a baby with little success. When we meet them, they're already in the grips of fertility mania, willing to try almost anything to secure the offspring they think they desire. With all the details about injections, side effects, and pricey medical procedures, the movie functions as a taxonomy of modern pregnancy anxieties, and Hahn brings each part of the process to glorious life.

The Ritual (2018)

The Ritual, a horror film where a group of middle-aged men embark on a hiking trip in honor of a dead friend, understands the tension between natural beauty of the outdoors and the unsettling panic of the unknown. The group's de facto leader Luke (an understated Rafe Spall) attempts to keep the adventure from spiralling out of control, but the forest has other plans. (Maybe brush up on your Scandinavian mythology before viewing.) Like a backpacking variation on Neil Marshall's 2005 cave spelunking classic The Descent, The Ritual deftly explores inter-personal dynamics while delivering jolts of other-worldly terror. It'll have you rethinking that weekend getaway on your calendar.

NETFLIX

Roma (2018)

All those billions Netflix spent paid off in the form of several Oscar nominations for Roma, including one for Best Picture and a win for Best Director. Whether experienced in the hushed reverence of a theater, watched on the glowing screen of a laptop, or, as Netflix executive Ted Sarandos has suggested, binged on the perilous surface of a phone, Alfonso Cuarón's black-and-white passion project seeks to stun. A technical craftsman of the highest order, the Children of Men and Gravity director has an aesthetic that aims to overwhelm -- with the amount of extras, the sense of despair, and the constant whir of exhilaration -- and this autobiographical portrait of kind-hearted maid Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio) caring for a family in the early 1970s has been staged on a staggering, mind-boggling scale.

Schindler's List (1993)

A passion project for Steven Spielberg, who shot it back-to-back with another masterpiece, Jurassic Park, Schindler's List tells the story of Oskar Schindler, a German businessman who reportedly saved over 1,200 Jews during the Holocaust. Frank, honest, and stark in its depiction of Nazi violence, the three-hour historical drama is a haunting reminder of the world's past, every frame a relic, every lost voice channeled through Itzhak Perlman's mourning violin.

A Serious Man (2009)

This dramedy from the Coen brothers stars Michael Stuhlbarg as Larry Gopnik, a Midwestern physics professor who just can't catch a break, whether it's with his wife, his boss, or his rabbi. (Seriously, if you're having a bad day, this airy flick gives you ample time to brood and then come to the realization that your life isn't as shitty as you think.) Meditating on the spiritual and the temporal, Gopnik's improbable run of bad luck is a smart modern retelling of the Book of Job, with more irony and fewer plagues and pestilences. But not much fewer.

WELL GO USA

Shadow (2019)

In Shadow, the visually stunning action epic from Hero and House of Flying Daggers wuxia master Zhang Yimou, parasols are more than helpful sun-blockers: They can be turned into deadly weapons, shooting boomerang-like blades of steel at oncoming attackers and transforming into protective sleds for traveling through the slick streets. These devices are one of many imaginative leaps made in telling this Shakespearean saga of palace intrigue, vengeance, and secret doppelgangers set in China's Three Kingdoms period. This is a martial arts epic where the dense plotting is as tricky as the often balletic fight scenes. If the battles in Game of Thrones left you frustrated, Shadow provides a thrilling alternative.

She's Gotta Have It (1986)

Before checking out Spike Lee's Netflix original series of the same name, be sure to catch up with where it all began. Nola (Tracy Camilla Johns) juggles three men during her sexual pinnacle, and it's all working out until they discover one another. She's Gotta Have It takes some dark turns, but each revelation speaks volumes about what real romantic independence is all about.

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

The late director Jonathan Demme's 1991 film is the touchstone for virtually every serial killer film and television show that came after. The iconic closeup shots of an icy, confident Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) as he and FBI newbie Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) engage in their "quid pro quo" interrogation sessions create almost unbearable tension as Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine) remains on the loose, killing more victims. Hopkins delivers the more memorable lines, and Buffalo Bill's dance is the stuff of nerve-wracking anxiety nightmares, but it's Foster's nuanced performance as a scared, determined, smart-yet-hesitant agent that sets Silence of the Lambs apart from the rest of the serial killer pack.

THE WEINSTEIN COMPANY

Silver Linings Playbook (2012)

Jennifer Lawrence, Bradley Cooper, and David O. Russell’s first collaboration -- and the film that turned J-Law into a bona fide golden girl -- is a romantic comedy/dramedy/dance-flick that bounces across its tonal shifts. A love story between Pat (Cooper), a man struggling with bipolar disease and a history of violent outbursts, and Tiffany (Lawrence), a widow grappling with depression, who come together while rehearsing for an amateur dance competition, Silver Linings balances an emotionally realistic depiction of mental illness with some of the best twirls and dips this side of Step Up. Even if you're allergic to rom-coms, Lawrence and Cooper’s winning chemistry will win you over, as will this sweet little gem of a film: a feel-good, affecting love story that doesn’t feel contrived or treacly.

Sin City (2005)

Frank Miller enlisted Robert Rodriguez as co-director to translate the former's wildly popular series of the same name to the big screen, and with some added directorial work from Quentin Tarantino, the result became a watershed moment in the visual history of film. The signature black-and-white palette with splashes of color provided a grim backdrop to the sensational violence of the miniaturized plotlines -- this is perhaps the movie that feels more like a comic than any other movie you'll ever see.

Sinister (2012)

Horror-movie lesson #32: If you move into a creepy new house, do not read the dusty book, listen to the decaying cassette tapes, or watch the Super 8 reels you find in the attic -- they will inevitably lead to your demise. In Sinister, a true-crime author (played by Ethan Hawke) makes the final mistake, losing his mind to home movies haunted by the "Bughuul."

NETFLIX

Small Crimes (2017)

It's always a little discombobulating to see your favorite Game of Thrones actors in movies that don't call on them to fight dragons, swing swords, or at least wear some armor. But that shouldn't stop you from checking out Small Crimes, a carefully paced thriller starring the Kingslayer Jaime Lannister himself, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau. As Joe Denton, a crooked cop turned ex-con, Coster-Waldau plays yet another character with a twisted moral compass, but here he's not part of some mythical narrative. He's just another conniving, scheming dirtbag in director E.L. Katz's Coen brothers-like moral universe. While some of the plot details are confusing -- Katz and co-writer Macon Blair skimp on the exposition so much that some of the dialogue can feel incomprehensible -- the mood of Midwestern dread and Coster-Waldau's patient, lived-in performance make this one worth checking out. Despite the lack of dragons.

Snowpiercer (2013)

Did people go overboard in praising Snowpiercer when it came out? Maybe. But it's important to remember that the movie arrived in the sweaty dog days of summer, hitting critics and sci-fi lovers like a welcome blast of icy water from a hose. The film's simple, almost video game-like plot -- get to the front of the train, or die trying -- allowed visionary South Korean director Bong Joon-ho to fill the screen with excitement, absurdity, and radical politics. Chris Evans never looked more alive, Tilda Swinton never stole more scenes, and mainstream blockbuster filmmaking never felt so tepid in comparison. Come on, ride the train!

The Social Network (2010)

After making films like Seven, The Game, Fight Club, Panic Room, and Zodiac, director David Fincher left behind the world of scumbags and crime for a fantastical, historical epic in 2008's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. The Social Network was another swerve, but yielded his greatest film. There's no murder on screen, but Fincher treats Jesse Eisenberg's Mark Zuckerberg like a dorky, socially awkward mob boss operating on an operatic scale. Screenwriter Aaron Sorkin's rapid-fire, screwball-like dialogue burns with a moral indignation that Fincher's watchful, steady-handed camera chills with an icy distance. It's the rare biopic that's not begging you to smash the "like" button.

SONY PICTURES RELEASING

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

In this shrewd twist on the superhero genre, the audience's familiarity with the origin story of your friendly neighborhood web-slinger -- the character has already starred in three different blockbuster franchises, in addition to countless comics and cartoon TV adaptations -- is used as an asset instead of a liability. The relatively straight-forward coming-of-age tale of Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), a Brooklyn teenager who takes on the powers and responsibilities of Spider-Man following the death of Peter Parker, gets a remix built around an increasingly absurd parallel dimension plotline that introduces a cast of other Spider-Heroes like Spider-Woman (Hailee Steinfeld), Spider-Man Noir (Nicolas Cage), Peni Parker (Kimiko Glen), and, most ridiculously, Spider-Ham (John Mulaney), a talking pig in a Spider-Suit. The convoluted set-up is mostly an excuse to cram the movie with rapid-fire jokes, comic book allusions, and dream-like imagery that puts the rubbery CGI of most contemporary animated films to shame.

Spotlight (2015)

Tom McCarthy stretches the drama taut as he renders Boston Globe's 2000 Catholic Church sex scandal investigation into a Hollywood vehicle. McCarthy's notable cast members crank like gears as they uncover evidence and reflect on a horrifying discovery of which they shoulder partial blame. Spotlight was the cardigan of 2015's Oscar nominees, but even cardigans look sharp when Mark Ruffalo is involved.

The Squid and the Whale (2005)

No movie captures the prolonged pain of divorce quite like Noah Baumbach's brutal Brooklyn-based comedy The Squid and the Whale. While the performances from Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney as bitter writers going through a separation are top-notch, the film truly belongs to the kids, played by Jesse Eisenberg and Owen Kline, who you watch struggle in the face of their parents' mounting immaturity and pettiness. That Baumbach is able to wring big, cathartic laughs from such emotionally raw material is a testament to his gifts as a writer -- and an observer of human cruelty.

SONY PICTURES RELEASING

Starship Troopers (1997)

Paul Verhoeven is undoubtedly the master of the sly sci-fi satire. With RoboCop, he laid waste to the police state with wicked, trigger-happy glee. He took on evil corporations with Total Recall. And with Starship Troopers, a bouncy, bloody war picture, he skewered the chest-thumping theatrics of pro-military propaganda, offering up a pitch-perfect parody of the post-9/11 Bush presidency years before troops set foot in Iraq or Afghanistan. Come for the exploding alien guts, but stay for the winking comedy -- or stay for both! Bug guts have their charms, too.

Swiss Army Man (2016)

You might think a movie that opens with a suicidal man riding a farting corpse like a Jet Ski wears thin after the fourth or fifth flatulence gag. You would be wrong. Brimming with imagination and expression, the directorial debut of Adult Swim auteurs "The Daniels" wields sophomoric humor to speak to friendship. As Radcliffe's dead body springs back to life -- through karate-chopping, water-vomiting, and wind-breaking -- he becomes the id to Dano's struggling everyman, who is also lost in the woods. If your childhood backyard adventures took the shape of The Revenant, it would look something like Swiss Army Man, and be pure bliss.

NETFLIX

Tallulah (2016)

From Orange Is the New Black writer Sian Heder, Tallulah follows the title character (played by Ellen Page) after she inadvertently "kidnaps" a toddler from an alcoholic rich woman and passes the child off as her own to appeal to her run-out boyfriend's mother (Allison Janney). A messy knot of familial woes and wayward instincts, Heder's directorial debut achieves the same kind of balancing act as her hit Netflix series -- frank social drama with just the right amount of humorous hijinks. As Tallulah grows into a mother figure, her on-the-lam parenting course only makes her more and more of a criminal in the eyes of... just about everyone. You want to root for her, but that would be too easy.

Taxi Driver (1976)

Travis Bickle (a young Bobby De Niro) comes back from the Vietnam War and, having some trouble acclimating to daily life, slowly unravels while fending off brutal insomnia by picking up work as a... taxi driver... in New York City. Eventually he snaps, shaves his hair into a mohawk and goes on a murderous rampage while still managing to squeeze in one of the most New York lines ever captured on film ("You talkin' to me?"). It's not exactly a heartwarmer -- Jodie Foster plays a 12-year-old prostitute -- but Martin Scorsese's 1976 Taxi Driver is a movie in the cinematic canon that you'd be legitimately missing out on if you didn't watch it.

FOCUS FEATURES

The Theory of Everything (2014)

In his Oscar-winning performance, Eddie Redmayne portrays famed physicist Stephen Hawking -- though The Theory of Everything is less of a biopic than it is a beautiful, sweet film about his lifelong relationship with his wife, Jane (Felicity Jones). Covering his days as a young cosmology student ahead of his diagnosis of ALS at 21, through his struggle with the illness and rise as a theoretical scientist, this film illustrates the trying romance through it all. While it may be written in the cosmos, this James Marsh-directed film that weaves in and out of love will have you experience everything there is to feel.

There Will Be Blood (2007)

Paul Thomas Anderson found modern American greed in the pages of Upton Sinclair's depression-era novel, Oil!. Daniel Day-Lewis found the role of a lifetime behind the bushy mustache of Daniel Plainview, thunderous entrepreneur. Paul Dano found his milkshake drunk up. Their discoveries are our reward -- There Will Be Blood is a stark vision of tycoon terror.

Time to Hunt (2020)

Unrelenting in its pursuit of scenarios where guys point big guns at each other in sparsely lit empty hallways, the South Korean thriller Time to Hunt knows exactly what stylistic register it's playing in. A group of four friends, including Parasite and Train to Busan break-out Choi Woo-shik, knock over a gambling house, stealing a hefty bag of money and a set of even more valuable hard-drives, and then find themselves targeted by a ruthless contract killer (Park Hae-soo) who moves like the T-1000 and shoots like a henchmen in a Michael Mann movie. There are dystopian elements to the world -- protests play out in the streets, the police wage a tech-savvy war on citizens, automatic rifles are readily available to all potential buyers -- but they all serve the simmering tension and elevate the pounding set-pieces instead of feeling like unnecessary allegorical padding. Even with its long runtime, this movie moves.

STUDIOCANAL

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)

If a season of 24 took place in the smoky, well-tailored underground of British intelligence crica 1973, it might look a little like this precision-made John le Carré adaptation from Let the Right One In director Tomas Alfredson. Even if you can't follow terse and tightly-woven mystery, the search for Soviet mole led by retired operative George Smiley (Gary Oldman), the ice-cold frames and stellar cast will suck you into the intrigue. It's very possible Oldman, Colin Firth, Tom Hardy, John Hurt, Toby Jones, Mark Strong, and Benedict Cumberbatch are reading pages of the British phone book, but egad, it's absorbing. A movie that rewards your full concentration.

To All the Boys I've Loved Before (2018)

Of all the entries in the rom-com revival, this one is heavier on the rom than the com. But even though it won't make your sides hurt, it will make your heart flutter. The plot is ripe with high school movie hijinks that arise when the love letters of Lara Jean Covey (the wonderful Lana Condor) accidentally get mailed to her crushes, namely the contractual faux relationship she starts with heartthrob Peter Kavinsky (Noah Centineo). Like its heroine, it's big-hearted but skeptical in all the right places.

Total Recall (1990)

Skip the completely forgettable Colin Farrell remake from 2012. This Arnold Schwarzenegger-powered, action-filled sci-fi movie is the one to go with. Working from a short story by writer Philip K. Dick, director Paul Verhoeven (Robocop) uses a brain-teasing premise -- you can buy "fake" vacation memories from a mysterious company called Rekall -- to stage one of his hyper-violent, winkingly absurd cartoons. The bizarre images of life on Mars and silly one-liners from Arnold fly so fast that you'll begin to think the whole movie was designed to be implanted in your mind.

NETFLIX

Tramps (2017)

There are heists pulled off by slick gentlemen in suits, then there are heists pulled off by two wayward 20-somethings rambling along on a steamy, summer day in New York City. This dog-day crime-romance stages the latter, pairing a lanky Russian kid (Callum Tanner) who ditches his fast-food register job for a one-off thieving gig, with his driver, an aloof strip club waitress (Grace Van Patten) looking for the cash to restart her life. When a briefcase handoff goes awry, the pair head upstate to track down the missing package, where train rides and curbside walks force them to open up. With a laid-back, '70s soul, Tramps is the rare doe-eyed relationship movie where playing third-wheel is a joy.

Uncut Gems (2019)

In Uncut Gems, the immersive crime film from sibling director duo Josh and Benny Safdie, gambling is a matter of faith. Whether he's placing a bet on the Boston Celtics, attempting to rig an auction, or outrunning debt-collecting goons at his daughter's high school play, the movie's jeweler protagonist Howard Ratner (Adam Sandler) believes in his ability to beat the odds. Does that mean he always succeeds? No, that would be absurd, undercutting the character's Job-like status, which Sandler imbues with an endearing weariness that holds the story together. But every financial setback, emotional humbling, and spiritual humiliation he suffers gets interpreted by Howard as a sign that his circumstances might be turning around. After all, a big score could be right around the corner.

Velvet Buzzsaw (2018)

Nightcrawler filmmaker Dan Gilroy teams up with Jake Gyllenhaal again to create another piece of cinematic art, this time a satirical horror film about the exclusive, over-the-top LA art scene. The movie centers around a greedy group of art buyers who come into the possession of stolen paintings that, unbeknownst to them, turn out to be haunted, making their luxurious lives of wheeling and dealing overpriced paintings a living hell. Also featuring the likes of John Malkovich, Toni Collette, Billy Magnussen, and others, Velvet Buzzsaw looks like Netflix’s next great original.

COLUMBIA PICTURES

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story (2007)

Oscar-baiting, musician biopics became so cookie-cutter by the mid-'00s that it was easy for John C. Reilly, Judd Apatow, and writer-director Jake Kasdan (Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle) to knot them all together for the ultimate spoof. Dewey Cox is part Johnny Cash, part Bob Dylan, part Ray Charles, part John Lennon, part anyone-you-can-think-of, rising with hit singles, rubbing shoulders with greats of many eras, stumbling with eight-too-many drug addictions, then rising once again. When it comes to relentless wisecracking, Walk Hard is like a Greatest Hits compilation -- every second is gold.

The Witch (2015)

The Witch delivers everything we don't see in horror today. The backdrop, a farm in 17th-century New England, is pure misty, macabre mood. The circumstance, a Puritanical family making it on the fringe of society because they're too religious, bubbles with terror. And the question, whether devil-worshipping is hocus pocus or true black magic, keeps each character on their toes, and begging God for answers. The Witch tests its audience with its (nearly impenetrable) old English dialogue and the (anxiety-inducing) trials of early American life, but the payoff will keep your mind racing, and your face hiding under the covers, for days.

Y Tu Mamá También (2001)

Before taking us to space with Gravity, director Alfonso Cuarón steamed up screens with this provocative, comedic drama about two teenage boys (Diego Luna and Gael García Bernal) road-trippin' it with an older woman. Like a sunbaked Jules and Jim, the movie makes nimble use of its central love triangle, setting up conflicts between the characters as they move through the complicated political and social realities of Mexican life. It's a confident, relaxed film that's got an equal amount of brains and sex appeal. Watch this one with a friend -- or two.

PARAMOUNT PICTURES

Zodiac (2007)

David Fincher's period drama is for obsessives. In telling the story of the Zodiac Killer, a serial murderer who captured the public imagination by sending letters and puzzles to the Bay Area press, the famously meticulous director zeroes in on the cops, journalists, and amateur code-breakers who made identifying the criminal their life's work. With Jake Gyllenhaal's cartoonist-turned-gumshoe Robert Graysmith at the center, and Robert Downey Jr.'s barfly reporter Paul Avery stumbling around the margins, the film stretches across time and space, becoming a rich study of how people search for meaning in life. Zodiac is a procedural thriller that makes digging through old manilla folders feel like a cosmic quest.

13th (2016)

Selma director Ava DuVernay snuck away from the Hollywood spotlight to direct this sweeping documentary on the state of race in America. DuVernay's focus is the country's growing incarceration rates and an imbalance in the way black men and women are sentenced based on their crimes. Throughout the exploration, 13th dives into post-Emancipation migration, systemic racism that built in the early 20th century, and moments of modern political history that continue to spin a broken gear in our well-oiled national machine. You'll be blown away by what DuVernay uncovers in her interview-heavy research.

20th Century Women (2016)

If there's such thing as an epistolary movie, 20th Century Women is it. Touring 1970s Santa Barbara through a living flipbook, Mike Mills's semi-autobiographical film transcends documentation with a cast of wayward souls and Jamie (Lucas Jade Zumann), an impressionable young teenager. Annette Bening plays his mother, and the matriarch of a ragtag family, who gather together for safety, dance to music when the moment strikes, and teach Jamie the important lesson of What Women Want, which ranges from feminist theory to love-making techniques. The kid soaks it up like a sponge. Through Mills's caring direction, and characters we feel extending infinitely through past and present, so do we.

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Team WISE Ch. 1 - Scarlet

Series Synopsis: Ten years have passed since Team RWBY disbanded. Remnant is in the midst of its Second Great War. And while the Kingdoms wage battle and destruction against one other, a darker, more ancient threat grows in its shadow. Only a select few are willing to set aside past differences to see the greater danger Remnant faces. Only those who possess the wisdom to seek out the truth in the dark—those who are truly wise. To that end, Weiss Schnee assembles her private group of covert operatives. 

This is the story of Team WISE.

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below:

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Scarlet

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The Color of Passion.

The Color of Blood.

The Color of Sin.

.

.

It was a cloudy overcast over Beacon Academy, when Glynda Goodwitch, Headmaster of Beacon Academy, gazed out pensively from the window of her office.

“I suppose it was only a matter of time before they came,” she lamented.

In the distant skies, numerous airships flaunting the Atlas banner approached. Dreadnoughts the size of the school’s largest buildings loomed forward, causing the air itself to ripple and tremor.

“Only a matter of time…”

Glynda lowered her glasses, and massaged the bridge of her brow.

She was getting tired. Too tired, too quickly to fight the world that wanted its own destruction with such longing.

Glynda remembered bearing witness to a full Atlesian Air Fleet only one other time. A time far past and far gone. The last Vytal Festival and the Fall of Beacon Academy.

It had been a decade since then. Glynda rebuilt the school from the ground up. It was no easy task, but she had the help.

But it was never the same.

Perhaps, Vale’s government knew that. Which was why they were so ready to migrate the capital of the Kingdom further southward.

It hasn’t been a month after the move, and Atlas is already at our front door, she thought.

Glynda knew this inevitability, but chose to stay regardless. Beacon had a legacy to uphold and she would be the one to uphold it—even in the face of its imminent destruction.

A second Fall of Beacon.

How disgraceful.

Even so…

“There’s nothing left, but to surrender.”

The words soured in her mouth.

“If they have any decency, they’ll spare the students. But this is Atlas,” she sighed. “There’s a chance they might turn the students into prisoners of war…”

For a moment, she thought of putting up a fight. If she asked it, the students would eagerly take up arms without hesitation. But that would be irresponsible. The young shouldn’t run so hastily to their deaths. Honorable sacrifice is a rite reserved for the older guard.

With an ironed resolve, Glynda placed her glasses back on. Her eyes burned with a fierceness—which smothered immediately in the next second.

Her sudden shock caused by a lone figure striding towards Atlas’s invading Fleet. The young woman’s cape fluttered violently against the wind, as she crossed the courtyard. A Huntress with a bright, red hood.

Glynda immediately pulled out her scroll to dial the number of the Vice Headmaster. A click sounded after a couple rings.

“What do you think you are doing?!” she exclaimed without waiting for an answer.

“I’ll buy you time,” Ruby Rose’s voice came from the other end. “You need to evacuate the students.”

“I can’t let you do that. I won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself!”

“It’s alright, Professor. I don’t plan on dying. Besides, I can hold them off better than you can.”

“Return here at once! That is a direct order, young lady!”

“Sorry. It was great while it lasted. But you must’ve been really stressed out not to see my resignation letter on your desk.”

Glynda turned, and saw a single white envelop sitting on her table. Ruby must have used her Semblance to leave it without her notice.

“I won’t accept it!” Glynda shouted into her scroll. “You can’t possibly hold off an entire fleet on your own!”

But before she could finish berating the former Vice Headmaster, the line went dead.

…

Underneath her hood, Ruby scowled as the lead flagship descended to lower elevation.

I don’t need to hold off an entire fleet.

From the flagship, a single figure descended like a silver meteor.

I just need to hold off one person.

The woman who landed before her was dressed in a snow-white gown. Her waist and leggings were reinforced in battle-scaled armor. A long estoc the length of a spear, drew through the air with a sharp ring.

In spite of herself, Ruby couldn’t help but form a disparaging smile.

“Hey, Weiss. Long time no see.”

Her former partner posed Myrtenaster below Ruby’s nose, but the latter showed no signs of fear.

“Surrender,” Weiss uttered the single-word command.

“What, no ‘how have you been?’, ‘what have you been up to?’”

“Surrender and tell all the professors to surrender at once, too.”

“No ‘I’m sorry for leaving without a word’. No ‘can we please talk about this?’”

“Ruby.”

“Oh, so you do remember my name.”

“This is no time for games.”

At the word, Ruby unfolded two scythes from the holsters of her back. The giant curved blades spread from each arm like wicked wings of omen.

“Who’s playing?”

“Don’t do this, Ruby,” Weiss warned.

“Too late! You already started this! I can’t believe what you’re doing! Did this school mean nothing to you?!”

“…”

“Did I…Did I mean nothing to you?” For a sliver, Ruby’s composure faltered. But realizing this, she reaffirmed her conviction. “I won’t let your bring harm to any of the students.”

“I intend to do nothing of the sort,” Weiss answered.

“I won’t let you take them prisoner.”

“I plan to make them honorary citizens of Atlas and transfer students to our academy.”

“So you can turn them into child soldiers for your war?!”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”

“We train them to be Huntsmen and Huntresses!”

“And despite you and Professor Goodwitch’s discouragements, some still choose to enlist in Vale’s military. Trust me when I say this, Ruby. My way is the only way they live without harm.”

Just then, Weiss bade a swift backstep in response to the silver glinting of Ruby’s eyes.

“Nothing you say will convince me to surrender those who put their faith in me,” Ruby snarled. “You knew that once.”

Weiss breathed a low, sorrowed sigh, before taking a fencer’s ready stance.

“I suppose this was always how it was going to be.”

“No. It wasn’t. You were my best friend! You were my partner! I…! I cared about you!”

“…!”

Ruby wiped the tears away and readied herself once more.

“Don’t hold back, Weiss… Cause I can promise you—I won’t.”

“…So be it.”

…

…

As Glynda and the other Professors shepherded the students out the back exits, Glynda pulled out her scroll. The device immediately produced a hologram of the fight ensuing in the courtyard.

Flashes of red and white darted back and forth across the stonework. The feed couldn’t keep up with the dazzling pace the two full-grown Huntresses set. It only caught glimpses of their figures when they paused to clash, and then break apart again.

At that moment, Ruby stopped her motion to dig her boots into the ground. She harnessed her Aura through her cowl, which shed rose petals in the activation of her Semblance. The cloak enlarged to envelop her form like a curtain setting the stage.

Weiss narrowed at the new situation. In response, she pierced her sword into the stone floor, casting an enlarged Glyph. It spun and rose, before the shattering sound of a glacier gave entrance to a colossal knight’s summon.

At the same time, Ruby’s cloak ripped away to reveal the woman riding atop a monstrous wolf. Like its master’s hair, the beast’s fur was a rich black coat with red highlights. Its rows of teeth gnashed viciously and hungrily, with a maw that unhinged like a crocodile’s.

Weiss charged with her knight at her side. Ruby’s wolf let out a piercing howl, before racing forward like the wind.

The moment their attacks collided, Glynda’s scroll’s projection cut out.

She took the moment to utter a few silent words.

Farewell, Ruby Rose.

And then, resumed evacuating the students.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

(One week later…)

The harsh sound of uncoupling metal shook Ruby awake from her slumber.

“Had enough time to cool off, I think?” Weiss stood pompously in the bright lit doorway of her cell.

“Ghhgg!” Ruby cringed, pulling her bedsheets over her head.

She remembered the days Weiss did something similar to wake her up, when they were late for classes. But the nostalgia of the memory instantly turned bitter as reality came reeling back.

Ruby could hear the sharp clacks of Weiss’s heels making their way towards her.

“I take it you’ve read the materials?” Weiss checked, while ripping away her blanket with a violent flick.

Ruby didn’t respond. Only looking to the piles of opened folders spread out on the spartan work desk bolted to the corner of her cell.

“Well? Any thoughts?” Weiss asked her.

“…I think…” Ruby rubbed her eyes, while adjusting to the light. “—If those documents aren’t forged or faked, Remnant is in real, deep trouble.”

“The material is completely legitimate. I’ve confirmed the accuracy of the findings myself.”

“Like that counts for much.”

“As such, we must address this problem with the utmost urgency,” Weiss pressed on.

“So?”

“So! …I’m assembling together a team. A special operations team to deal with the matter.”

“…”

Ruby was immediately hit with an overbearing bout of displeasure. She faced away from Weiss, towards the shadows. Her arms crossed defensively.

“This is serious, Ruby,” Weiss scolded. “I wouldn’t make this offer otherwise.”

“Well, that makes me feel better.”

“We are the only ones properly equipped to handle the situation.”

“Why? Why haven’t you reported these findings, if they’re so serious? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

“Why do you think?” Weiss walked around her, and sat on the bed so they would be sitting face to face. “Remnant is in the middle of its Second Great War. If Atlas made this announcement, who would believe it? The Board of Directors of my own Kingdom don’t even believe it.”

“You mean they don’t want to spend their resources,” Ruby pouted to the side, still refusing to meet her.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.”

“…”

“If I tried to spread these findings on a massive scale, the other Kingdoms would never see past the current war to understand the grave situation we’re all in.” Weiss paused. “But you do… and so will the rest.”

“’The rest’. Why me? I’m sure a brigadier general like yourself should have her own pick of special, elite soldiers.”

“They’re called ‘specialists’, Ruby. And no, not any of whom I can trust—and not of the caliber I need.”

“Do you really think I’m just going to go along with you?”

“I believe…” Weiss paused. “No… I know you can look past our differences and see the real problem at hand. The fate of Remnant is at stake.”

“…”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, and you might think I’m lying,” Weiss bit her bottom lip, “But I’ll be glad to be working with you again.”

With that, Weiss produced another folder, and placed it in Ruby’s hands.

“What’s this?” Ruby asked.

“Your credentials, as well as your new identity. The name ‘Ruby Rose’, the great Huntress and Vice Headmaster of Beacon Academy, is a bit too famous for the covert nature of our operations.”

“Seriously, Weiss?” Ruby uttered, as she began pouring over the details of her new persona.

Weiss was making ready to leave the cell, before stopping at the doorway.

“Oh, yes. One more thing, before I forget.” She turned with an authority and a small hint of satisfaction.

“Welcome to Team WISE—”

“Scarlet.”

[purplenarwhal19]

COSMIC DANCER

so, here’s a v short story I wrote for class about the importance of exploration. two of the songs that are excerpted in my story I found through @basic-banshee ‘s fanfic Rebel Rebel which is one the best (probably the best) fanfics ever.

Also I don’t know how to do the cutoff thingy so it’s gonna be a long post 🤷‍♀️ so sorry

....

enjoy, I guess? 💕

COSMIC DANCER

Over the radio, a gentle guitar played, followed by T. Rex’s smooth and repetitive lyrics. I sighed, bliss. We were driving on a California road in our rusty tour bus. Sitting in our narrow duffel bag with my costars, with bemused smiles plastered across our faces. Cool air conditioning blew a soft breeze. We listened to beautiful, alternative music, an epic soundtrack for our journey. This was the life of a performer. A true actress.

It was the summer of 1971. I was an actress and dancer on the television and stage show, Desi Dance. We were a children’s show that taught people all about India’s rich culture and history. Dance, art, poetry, music, and food offered just a peek into Indian tradition. We had been performing and touring for six years, but it felt like we started the show yesterday.

“I danced myself right out the womb

Is it strange to dance so soon?”(1)

The guitar solo came into full sound with the backing vocals. It created a powerful feeling that filled my whole body with true hope and strength.

All my life I had danced. It was my escape, my passion, and my love. It felt like that was what I was made for. Reading also brought escape, when the pressure of being an actress became too much. Reciting poetry for my castmates or singing a song that was stuck in my head was so relaxing and freeing. The lyrics are what spoke to me about music, and while I had quite a large vocabulary, there were often times when I didn’t know what a word meant.

“Beraham, what is a womb?” I questioned the boy next to me, clad in loose fitting turquoise pants with gold embroidery.

“I don’t know, Shrishti,” Beraham said plainly.

Beraham and I both sat there, still enjoying it, yet dumbfounded. Curiosity, a crimson rash that we needed to itch, in that unreachable spot on your back. This infection spread throughout the whole cast, leaving all of us with that same itch.

Maybe I could ask my movement director when we get to the venue… I thought as I drifted off, wrapped up in the comfort of music and friendship.

The year was 1973. In the dressing room, now with a smaller cast, we were practicing lines and getting ready to film. I had been groomed with brushes, painted with makeup and had been dressed in the most gorgeous fabrics. My lengha was brilliant magenta with intricate canary yellow details, and paired with a simple sequinned pearly white top. I loved these days, dressing up, feeling beautiful like a royal queen.

To the left of me, a record player played a Paul Simon favourite, setting our moods to the upbeat song.

“The mother and child reunion

Is only a motion away

Oh, the mother and child reunion

Is only a moment away”(2)

A familiar feeling of confusion washed over me. Why is the reunion so important? Why were the mother and child separated? Who are they?

Who is my mother?

Where is she?

Everyone has a mother. Our director, our manager, our movement director, the children in the audience; everyone except me and my fellow actors.

Everyone except me.

I tried to close my perfectly designed eyes, to block out the image of my unfortunate life, but my body refused to listen to my command. Blinking wasn’t even in my control.

I felt so overwhelmed. I had no identity. Who am I? This was a question from too deep in my heart for me to bear.

It was too much. I wanted to leave, I had to get up. I willed my thin, stick-like legs to stand up, pushing, using all the strength I had, just to leave the room.

Nothing happened.

I tried again, hoping for something, some sign of my own independence.

Nothing.

My body wasn’t mine. My will, myself, I could not control it. My life wasn’t mine.

I looked around at my colleagues, chatting, laughing, and totally unaware of their inability to be free. Bound to our employers who dictate and orchestrate our every move.

“Oh, little darling of mine

I can’t for the life of me

Remember a sadder day

I know they say let it be

But it just don’t work out that way”(2)

Paul Simon was right, I still can’t remember a sadder day than that one. My life had changed forever.

As years passed, I began to feel emptier and emptier, resenting my profession, and hating my life. Those years also happened to be our most successful, as a show. The success changed everything. Our bosses got sloppy; high on the fame, as well as their drugs of choice.

Most notably, Arjun, our stage director, became addicted to heroin. It was a horrid sight to witness him become a shell of the person he used to be. It reminded me exactly of that sad, sad Velvet Underground song.

“Heroin, be the death of me

Heroin, it’s my wife and it’s my life

Because a mainline into my vein

Leads to a center in my head

And then I’m better off than dead”(3)

It broke my heart to see him like this. I couldn’t understand how he could inject a toxin into his body by choice. How he could slowly kill himself one high after another.

By then, I had realized that I wasn’t human. I was something else, like them, yet different; stronger, yet weaker.

I spoke with my closest companions, Beraham, Jaidev, and Mitali. They were as confused as I was the day I realized I entered this world without anyone, without a mother. They too began life motherless.

The directors, started our show with shining faces, and now were graying and worn out. We kept the same expressions over the years, never seeing a wrinkle appear, never feeling an ache or pain, never feeling or looking our age.

We hadn’t aged in the past 20 years. We were to be used, like the puppets we were, forever.

“What can we do?” Mitali questioned, urgency overtaking her usual calm nature.

“Nothing,” Jaidev said. “It’s hopeless…”

“I want you to know deep in the cell of my heart

I really want to go

There is another world… a better world

Well, there must be…”(4)

I felt like the Smiths were reading my mind; I wanted another world, a better world, and I hoped with all my heart and soul that there would be one.

This was the lowest depth of our depression. We considered “ending it all”, whatever that meant.

Most of the time our directors listened to nonsense music filled with empty, happy thoughts that had less meaning than my life. When we listened to the melancholy music of Miles Davis, Billie Holiday and Chet Baker, that our bosses listened to so rarely, it felt reassuring: someone else suffered as we did.

Determined to solve this problem, I decided to speak with the director about our conditions. I had heard the humans refer to us as “puppets”, inanimate objects who could only recite lines, made only of felt, and paint. This sounded as bad as any slur that I’d heard before. They pushed and shoved us around, threw us in crowded duffel bags. This had to stop. We needed to break away from the chains the humans bound us in.

“Today we will close our show with an excerpt from Keralan poet, Kamala Surayya. “I am sinner, I am saint— I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” I paused, taking a moment to think of the right words.

“I cannot read the words of a woman who has lived and loved, while I am kept here, held captive by you humans!” I angrily burst, far less eloquent than I had imagined, emotion overtaking my composed mask.

My face turned a deep scarlet shade of red, reminiscent of tamaatar; something that had never happened before. The camera people, directors, and executives stood in place, too shocked to move or speak, the puppet that they had manipulated for so many years had finally taken control and spoken back.

Divya, a camera person, pale and shocked, stuttered, “W-what is happening?” She glanced around nervously at the other people in the room to see if they saw the same thing.

“Divya, you aren’t hallucinating. This is very real. My costars and I are conscious beings; we may not be able to move like you humans, but we deserve the same treatment as you. We have thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams. The way you speak about us is degrading. The way you touch and move us is disrespectful. We deserve respect and our thoughts and opinions are as valid as yours,” I spoke with a dignified tone. “The cast and I would like to have a meeting with all of you to discuss our treatment.”

Wide eyed, the crew, obediently agreed and took us to our cramped dressing room. The room was painted a pale yellow with a cheap elephant decal on the wall that was torn and peeling on the edges. This tiny room barely housed all thirteen of us cast members. With all of the behind the scenes crew in our room, we were packed in tight, like sardines in a tin.

“We have called this meeting today to negotiate our rights and responsibilities within this community,” Mitali serenely began. “Our citizenship within our show needs to include us as full members with equal rights and consideration. We understand that your use of us has immense benefits for you, with few benefits for us.”

“You make significant profits from our labor. Your wage is even plentiful enough for you, Arjun, to fund your addiction.” Jaidev scoffed.

With a quivering chin, Arjun begged, “What can we do to fix our mistakes?”

Beraham blustered, “ We want a change in your behaviour!”

“We cannot move on our own, so we expect help and kindness. When you have moved us in the past, even just five minutes ago, you throw around our bodies, like the inanimate objects you believe us to be. We want to go outside and see the world. We want more space in our dressing room, and we expect some real answers about who and what we are,” I demanded.

Afters some discussions we learned that we were the descendants of Saraswati, the Goddess of wisdom and art. The movement directors, who were called “puppeteers”, had no idea that we could do more than just read prepared lines, until we had all travelled to America. This was too far away from the Pundita, that had given them the divine puppets that we were. They could not receive guidance. They had no idea as to what we were capable of, or how to teach us.

That Pundita was my mother.  Her name was Tavni, and I was given a picture of her.

She had a golden, caramel complexion, with large eyes and hazel pupils. She had a smile that lit up a whole room and round, rosy cheeks.

I noticed the similarities in our appearances, the way she had crafted me to look so much like her.

I had found my identity.

Learning all of this information brought a new sensation to my eyes; something burning and prickly, and a wet droplet traveling down my cheek. I was crying! This feeling brought a warm emotion of relief, of content and of closure.

Soon after these discoveries, I realized that I loved my job. Even though the past years had been rough, this was what I was meant to do. If conditions improved, I would truly be happy.

I was going to do what my mother created me for. Dancing and performing, bringing India to the whole world and teaching about our glorious culture. I would do just that.

“I danced myself into the tomb

I danced myself into the tomb

Is it strange to dance so soon?

I danced myself into the tomb…”(1)

THE END

~

SONGS REFERENCED:

(1) Cosmic Dancer, T. Rex, 1971

(2) Mother and Child Reunion, Paul Simon, 1972

(3) Heroin, The Velvet Underground, 1967

(4) Asleep, The Smiths, 1987

[decandantfics]

Fight the World for You

Dec swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. This all felt so surreal, it was like he was there but not actually there – as if it was a bad dream he couldn't wake up from. As he stood at the top of the stairs, he couldn't help but sneak a glance at the other side of ITV's Studio 1 where his partner would normally be standing – waiting to run down the stairs together during rehearsals for this week's Saturday Night Takeaway. His heart clenched at the empty space, and he felt tears coming to his eyes. Furiously, Dec tried to control his emotions and focus on the task at hand – there was a show to do, and it had to be perfect. It felt like the whole world was watching him this week, judging him, and he had never been more scared in his life. He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by Chris Power, the director, calling everyone to attention as rehearsals officially began. The music started, and Dec forced his legs to move as he numbly made his way down the stairs towards the stage. As he ran onto the stage, he was again hit by the emptiness of the room. He felt all alone, even though there were at least a couple dozen members of the crew and production team milling around, making adjustments to lighting, camera angles, etc. As the music stopped and the autocue started running, it all became too much for Dec.

                                                           ~~~

He had tried all morning to keep his emotions in check. The script meeting had been horrific, as everyone tried to come up with the best way to address Ant's absence. Everyone was trying their best to act as if everything was normal, but it was just so very awkward. No one seemed to know how to act around Dec, and he felt as if they were all tip toeing around him, afraid to say anything lest he shatter in front of their very eyes. Honestly, he didn't know which was worse – confronting the very painful reality head on, or trying to ignore it and pretend everything was okay. In the end, he decided trying to ignore it was the best option – one well-meaning crew member had told him how sorry they were about what had happened and that they hoped he and Ant were okay. It was all he could do to keep from breaking down. The only response he could muster was a curt nod – studiously avoiding their gaze - and then walking swiftly away so that they wouldn't see his pain-filled eyes brimming with tears.

If he was honest, the past two weeks had been the worst of his life. His world fell apart when his father died in 2011, but he had had so much support from those closest to him that he was able to get through it, no matter how painful it was. But now, he felt all alone. Yes, his family and friends were trying to buoy him up, calling, texting, and just attempting to support him as best they could. Ali had been amazing – so patient and loving, letting him cry bitterly on her chest, comforting him and reassuring him as his whole world fell apart. The only bright spot in his life right now was his baby – their baby – but even that had been partly ruined for him by the press outing their secret. He had gone out to run some errands and had stopped to order a takeaway to be delivered to their home, as Ali wasn't feeling great and neither of them felt like cooking (let's face it, he'd gotten a bit more domesticated since Ali came into his life, but he still couldn't be trusted alone in the kitchen). When he arrived home and made his way through the crowd of paparazzi stationed outside his home – whatever happened to privacy?! – they were shouting something at him that made his blood run cold. "Is it true – is your wife pregnant?" The pictures in the paper the next day showed him looking slightly incredulous, bewildered, angry – who had outed them, was nothing sacred these days? He and Ali had so wanted to keep their baby news a secret for as long as possible. To have their privacy invaded, to be denied the privilege of making this precious announcement to the world in their own time when they were ready – this was the height of cruelty. But, he bitterly thought to himself, what are the press if not cruel. He and Ant had always had a fairly good relationship with the press – they stayed out of trouble for the most part, and although there had been a few exceptions over the years when the press had made their lives hell, they weren't really bothered by paps or brutal tabloid "journalists." As soon as Ant's accident happened, though, that had all changed. Probably forever, Dec suspected. Their entire lives were in limbo right now – he honestly didn't expect either of them would have a career for very much longer. Actually, if the vicious voices of self-doubt in his mind were to be believed, neither of them would have a career after tonight's show.

Dec had always suffered with anxiety and insecurity – he had even described himself as "neurotic, insecure, and self-obsessed" in their autobiography, and with good reason. He would quite frequently suffer from anxiety dreams in the lead-up to a new series of Takeaway, which would result in sleepless nights when the latent worry in his mind took hold of him and made his mind race with everything that could potentially go wrong on the night. But through the years, the one thing he could always rely on to help relieve his nerves, to make him believe in himself, was Ant. Ant was always there for him – sometimes, Dec thought, Ant believed in him too much, almost to the point of blind belief – and could always snap him out of his obsessive worrying with a warm hug and some calm words of wisdom and reassurance. But now, now he was all on his own. Ant was back in rehab, and all communication with him was cut off. Again. 2017's absence had been hard enough on Dec, but then it was different. Ant had the full support of the majority of the public, but most importantly, they were sort of off work at the time. Yes, there were some production meetings and the like for I'm a Celebrity... and SNT, but Dec was mostly able to cope with those on his own fairly well, with the knowledge that Ant was getting better and would be back in time for IAC. This was a whole different kettle of fish. Ant was suddenly ripped completely out of his life, and Dec was abruptly thrust into the spotlight, expected to step up to the plate and carry on as if everything was normal. Nothing was normal. His psyche was in tatters, his confidence had completely vanished, and the level of pressure and expectation being heaped on his shoulders was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could barely sleep, he merely picked at his food, and his nerves were on edge. Someone had accidentally dropped a microphone onto the stage with a clatter earlier, and he had nearly jumped out of his skin. He couldn't think straight – the combination of exhaustion and nerves further damaging his fractured mind. Stress was also taking its toll – he felt tetchy, like he could snap at any minute – and his face wore the look of someone who was completely broken inside. He was trying to put a brave face on, even trying to crack a few jokes with the crew to raise morale, but the smile never reached his eyes and his laugh sounded horribly forced, even to his own ears. There was no way he was going to get through the show tonight, he told himself. He wasn't capable of doing this all by himself. He was mad for even thinking he could do this, for making the decision to go ahead with these final two shows of the series. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back out again.

                                                          ~~~

Dec was wrenched from his morbid thoughts as he stepped onto his mark and the autocue started running. He opened his mouth to start reading his lines, only to be stopped immediately by Chris. Inwardly, Chris was cringing at what he was going to have to point out to Dec. There was no tactful way of putting this, really. "Dec," Chris said gently, "You're too far to the right of the stage for the camera. Your mark is in the center here, see?" The carefully schooled, stoic expression Dec had been trying so desperately to maintain all morning – all week, in fact – slowly crumbled. He looked over to his right, at the empty space beside him, at the mark that was placed where Ant should be stood beside him. His breath caught in his throat, he felt like someone was choking him, squeezing the life out of him. His vision blurred, his heart painfully clenched and then started racing, the fight or flight instinct kicking in. He knew he had to get out of there before he lost his last shred of dignity. He breathed out a choked, "I need a minute," to Chris, and sprinted off the stage and to his – their – dressing room.

Locking the door behind him, he collapsed onto the sofa, broken sobs clawing their way out of his throat. This was like no other pain he had ever experienced. He knew he had sometimes taken his friendship with Ant and the incredible bond they shared for granted, but it had never really occurred to him that it might all disappear some day. That Ant wouldn't always be by his side, that they could be torn apart so cruelly by life and forced to live without each other. True, Ant was still alive – albeit not very well, mentally or physically – but Dec felt totally isolated and removed from himself. Ant had given him his blessing to carry on and present the final two shows solo – he had even tried to be supportive, despite what a mess he was emotionally and psychologically – and told Dec that he had every faith in him and that he could do this. Dec knew he was far too easy to read for Ant – they had known each other for 29 years, after all – and even though he had tried not to show his anxiety at the prospect of going solo, it was painfully obvious to Ant.

Oh, Ant. Even just thinking about him hurt. There was a constant ache in his heart that just wouldn't go away. He wanted so badly to protect him from everything he was facing right now, but at the same time he was incredibly angry at Ant for having done what he'd done. Never in a million years had he thought this would happen. This was not the Ant he knew, the Ant he'd spent 29 years with. And that was the one thing that kept him going.

Ant knew he had messed up big time, and he had made it clear to Dec that he was determined to make it right and finally get better, once and for all. No more lies, no more secrets, it was time to face his demons and shake them off. Dec wanted nothing more than for Ant to be able to come back and be by his side again, although the prospect of that ever happening seemed very far away at this point in time. He had tearfully told Ant that he would give everything up if Ant could just be happy again. Their career meant nothing compared to their friendship. He loved his job, loved being on the telly and doing everything they do, but if it was a choice between Ant and their career, he would always choose Ant.

Words could not describe the depth of his love for Ant. It actually scared him how much he loved Ant and needed him in his life. He could not contemplate a world without Ant, it would kill him...His heart stopped for a moment. He furiously shook his head, as sobs continued to wrench themselves out of his being, forcing down the thought that had come to mind. Ant was in hospital, he was being watched and cared for. He wouldn't do anything like that, he knew people loved him, right? He knew Dec loved him more than anything, surely he would never leave him alone in the world....He forced the thought out of his mind. There was still a show to rehearse, even if he was having a mental breakdown. He couldn't let everyone down – but more importantly, he couldn't let Ant down. He knew Ant loved their job, and he knew Ant was convinced his own career was over. Well, if he couldn't help Ant with the battle he was currently waging against his demons in rehab – truly the most helpless feeling in the world, being unable to help his one true friend fight the hardest battle of his life – there was still one thing he could do: save their career.

With that thought, he forced himself to take a deep breath. His sobs slowed down to a halt, and even though the ache in his chest didn't relent, he replaced the broken look on his face with his stoic mask of professionalism. But there was a difference now – there was an air of steely determination about him. He was going to make sure Ant still had a career to come back to, if and when he was ready. The world might try to bring them down, tear them apart, put them through untold heartache and pain, but he was more than ready to fight against the world for Ant. Ant is his world, and he would do anything for him. Slowly, Dec pulled himself together, steeling himself for what was to come. Standing up on wobbly legs, he walked to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, trying to rid himself of the red, blotchy look that would broadcast his breakdown to everyone. Having cleaned himself up as best he could, Dec resolutely unlocked his dressing room door and strode back to the studio. He still felt sick with fear every time he thought about going live to the nation that evening. He knew he would probably have at least a couple more panics and/or emotional breakdowns before the show tonight, but for now, he had to put his emotions aside and make sure this was the best show he had ever put on in his life. This was for Ant. He wasn't doing this for ITV, their sponsors, not even the fans anymore. This was about Ant now, and that made it the most important thing he had ever done. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to save their career and give Ant something to hold onto, something to give him hope that not all was lost. No one could stop him now.

[moody-by-nature]

Rescue Me | Chapter One

C/W: None

"I'm sorry, Andrea, they went a different direction." the sorrowful voice stated through her speaker phone.

'Great' she thought, this day keeps getting better.

She rolled her eyes and hung up, missing the days when she could slam a phone down to disconnect a call. Andrea threw her phone into the passenger seat and pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to keep the tears of frustration at bay.

Traffic was moving at a snails pace. She sat there sulking and full of regret for her rudeness. Reaching into the passenger seat she swooped up her phone and composed a text, "I'm sorry I hung up on you. I know you are trying to help and I appreciate it."

She bombed that audition when she let her nerves get the best of her. It wasn't her agent's fault. In an attempt to drown out her thoughts, her fingers reached out and fiddled with the knob on the radio.

"... A boulevard of hope and dreams..." he sang.

"Ha!" A sarcastic laugh escaped her as she pondered how what little 'hope' she had was quickly dwindling as her 'dreams' were crushed audition after audition by a healthy number of casting directors.

Full of courage, she picked up her life and moved to the city of stars six months ago to chase her life long dream. She found a quaint little apartment that cost double what she paid back home, but it was her space and she loved it.

To pay her bills she used her experience as a certified medical assistant, part-time at a private medical office. Taking care of people was something she had always excelled at and she hoped to brush shoulders with a VIP in the film industry to get her foot in the door. In what little spare time she had between work and auditions, she picked up a few shifts as a barista at this up and coming coffee boutique.

The intense Summer heat beat down on the 101 as she sat traffic. The fuel light lit up adding to the collection of lights already displayed on the dashboard of her beat up car.

Thirty minutes later traffic had finally crept enough that she was able to take the exit onto Mulholland. She pulled into a 7-11 for gas and decided she needed to head up to her favorite spot to get some air and escape this hectic day. She grabbed a bottle of water as well as a granola bar, paid for her items and was on her way.

Winding through the switchbacks, windows down, the wind swept through her long caramel hair, while Bittersweet Symphony blared through the speakers of her small SUV.

Sputtering to a stop, she parked and hid anything resembling value. Looking down at her business casual outfit the audition called for almost made her go home. If anyone happened to be up there and saw her inappropriate dress... 'Whatever, I need to watch the day fade away and clear my head.' she thought with the shake of her head.

She grimaced at the stilettos on her feet, a recipe for disaster with her graceful nature. The temptation to go barefoot was growing when she remembered the spare pair of flats under the passenger seat. She grabbed them and swapped them with the heels, at least she wouldn't break an ankle.

Her spot was at the end of a residential street and most likely for neighborhood members only, but some rules were made to be broken.

She crossed the street and made her way up the hillside. Once she reached the top she headed straight towards the large oak tree and sat down, absorbing the best view in the city. A few stray tears finally breached her eyes and she sat there taking in big cleansing breaths of air trying to calm down as she settled against the tree.

"That's my tree you're leaning on."

Andrea jumped, startled by a male voice. She wiped her eyes and hesitated before she turned her head towards the voice. She pushed her black rimmed cat eye sunglasses up to rest atop her head and watched as he walked toward her.

He appeared average in height, his frame was thin, but lean and she smiled slightly at the way the ends of his his ombré hair danced in the wind. She would know that walk anywhere and a sarcastic smirk appeared on her face as she thought 'Very funny Universe, throw a rock star and incredible actor in my face today, why story not?'

"Sorry I scared you. Mind if I sit with you? This tree has the best view in town, but I'm sure you know that since you're here." He chuckled and he gracefully floated into a seated position next to her.

"Sure." Andrea answered with a halfhearted smile.

He deposited his sunglasses and phone into his lap and offered a hand to introduce himself

"Hi, I'm Jared."

His eyes drifted over her face and down her body, grinning at her uncharacteristic outfit for the location and then brought his eyes back to her face. He could tell she had been crying, but that didn't stop him from thinking of how beautiful she was.

Jared studied Andrea's puffy eyes and creased his eyebrows, "Rough day for you it appears, wanna talk about it? What's your name?"

She tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear and said, "I'm Andrea. Andrea Bennett. And yes, you could say this day has been less than stellar." She choked out a laugh and sniffed "I have no idea why I just told you my full name. I'm glad to know you aren't a murderer."

Raising an eyebrow, he teased, "Or am I?"

Jared laughed and smiled brightly at her and she couldn't help but smile back.

They stared at each other for a moment before Jared nudged her arm.

"Oh, right, my day." She said.

"In short, I moved here six months ago and trying to get work as an actress is proving to be a little harder than expected. I got rejected again today and it's getting harder to take each time it happens." She sniffed.

"Well, you were smart to come here." Jared said, "I do some of my best thinking under this tree." He smiled at her but she had turned her focus back to the sunset.

"Listen, sometimes six months can feel like an eternity in this town, sometimes it goes by in the blink of an eye. But you can't give up on yourself."

As he spoke, Jared placed his hand on top of Andrea's. Their eyes met simultaneously as a powerful jolt of electricity ran through them.

Andrea shifted to break the contact and leaned back against the tree again. She picked up her granola bar breaking it in half and brought it towards Jared "Would you like some? It's vegan." she smirked.

Jared laid back against the tree next to Andrea, taking the granola with a grin and replied, "Thank you."

They sat there in comfortable silence, making small talk here and there like old friends as the sun descended into the distant sea.

"It's nearly dark, how about I walk with you down to your car. Just to make sure you're safe." Jared said, standing up and holding out his hands to help Andrea up.

She reached up to take his hand, noting the return of the electrical pulse where their skin connected, and pushed herself up, "That would be nice, thank you.”

He walked a couple steps ahead of her using his phone as a flashlight to hi-light their path.

Once they reached the street, he stopped and gestured for her to lead the way at this point.

"I've got it from here. Thank you for the company, it was really nice chatting with you Jared."

"Oh, no you're not getting off that easy. I'm walking you to your car." He said waving his hands a forward motion.

She sighed loudly and muttered under her breath as she walked "Ugh. I had a feeling he would be stubborn."

"What was that?" He questioned with a smirk.

"Nothing!" She answered as she picked up the pace.

Jared chuckled behind her as they approached her car.

"Ok. We're here, this is my car. Are you satisfied now?" She sighed dramatically as she placed her hand on her jutted hip. He was taken aback for a moment, her sass catching his attention.

'Not quite,' he thought to himself, but said "Yes, I am. I enjoy getting my way very much." He stated.

"I'm sure you do." She smirked.

"I'll see you around Andie." He smiled with a wink.

She had one foot in her car, the other on her doorframe and jerked her head around to look at him. No one had ever given her a nickname, not even her family. She fought the small smile forming and said "The chances of us seeing each other again are slim. This is a huge city that swallows people up and spits them out. But I enjoyed tonight, thank you for your wisdom." she stated as she got into her car and shut the door. Her hands trembled slightly as she started her car and drove off.

Jared watched her disappear down the street and said "We'll see."

[alwaysandindent-blog]

Oceans

Part One. 

If we're caught in a wave, I will carry you over It don't matter where you are, I'll run to your front door

Two years. Five months. Twenty nine days. Twelve hours. Eleven minutes. Fifty four seconds.

Looking out at the Tokyo skyline the night has to offer, Masamune could not stop thinking about her no matter how hard he tried. It’s been almost two and a half years since she’s left for Los Angeles to finally put her career first. Standing behind the floor to ceiling windows that surrounded his sleek and polished office, he pondered over his memory of the last four years. Though some people consider that a short term relationship, Masamune knew she was the one the moment he met her.

Misao was the epitome of an angel. She had beautiful black hair that always flowed past her shoulders, light brown eyes carried a wide range of emotions, a soft button nose and soft pink lips she nervously bit down on whenever she was nervous. Her body consisted of curves in the right places and she was as patient as a saint. It was no wonder Masamune was head over heels for her. He especially loved the looks he’d receive from other men whenever they past them holding hands.

Yet now, there was nothing left between the both of them but Masamune couldn’t blame her. She has always stood by his side no matter how many times he’s failed from starting his business. While he was working on becoming one of the world’s famous and well paid CEO many saw on the headlines today, she was going to school and studying while managing their little studio. He could never resent her for finally deciding to go after her dream, even if it meant having to leave him.

The day Misao told Masamune of her plans to move across the ocean to pursue her dreams of acting, he asked her if she needed any help financially. It was the least he could do to repay her back for standing by his side like a loyal wife all these years. Not to his surprise though, she turned down his offer and insisted she needed to do this by herself for herself.

His only regret is him not telling her how much she meant to him.

When my head goes in different directions You know my heart's never on the move

Entering her makeup room, Misao sighed as she took her seat in front of the mirror while the hair and makeup teams started working on her. Per her agent’s orders, her hair and makeup was to be ready by 5:30 PM. As exhausted as she was, she only had happy thoughts. Although Hollywood rarely offered Asian actors and actresses any roles, Misao told herself she was lucky to score even a recurring minor role. She repeatedly told herself if she does well in this role, there will be more fruition to come in the future, her sacrifices were not for nothing.

As Misao stared at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but think about Masamune. How was he doing? Was he eating well? Does he remember to double check whether the car doors are locked? She couldn’t bear knowing negligence would cause him another break in, having to deal with it alone. She could feel her heart immediately beating faster by the millisecond at the thought of their past car break in.

But there was no reason for Misao to worry anymore. He was no longer her’s, she was no longer his. She couldn’t still be controlling every aspect of his life, whether it’s the color of his tie for the day or a potential women to walk side by side with. Afterall, Misao was the one who initiated their fall out. All so she could selfishly focus on her acting career over in Los Angeles, one of the world’s most smug places to live asides from New York City.

A tear threatens to escape from their ducts as she recalls the living in Los Angeles for the past six months alone. Everything and everyone was fake. She learned that the hard way. When she was offered a small role in a sitcom, one of the girls playing the lead supporting role was extra friendly to her when they acted a scene together. Off camera, Misao was on her way to the break room when she heard the very same girl making jokes about her slanty, oriental eyes.

There were many times Misao questioned if she was on the right path of her life, if this was all worth it. She’s lost her family as well as many friends due to her career aspirations, mainly because they told her she couldn’t do it; she could never be the main face of a big movie or TV show. The only real supporter in her life was Masamune but even he was removed from her life as well, of course, at her own hands.

But Misao managed to find the light at the end of the tunnel. There was finally a screenplay and director in Hollywood who saw through her talents and asked her personally to play the role of a leading lady. To her surprise, she wouldn’t need to change who she was for the role. Because the role was for an independent, strong, Asian woman who has to break through the ways of Asian conformity. To no contest, Misao gladly accepted the role. Since the film has been released, it’s topped the box office records on opening night and a week into opening.

Through the long journey, Misao finally has success coming her way. With a touch on the lips, Misao thanked the teams before heading over to wardrobe.

And in the dark times, you don't have to question If I'm a hundred with you

Unsurprising to him, Masamune has been thinking about Misao for the past two hours ever since he stepped into work which was well before his employees started their day. Looking at down at his sheen Omega Seamaster, it is currently 1PM over in Los Angeles right now. What he wouldn’t give to be sleeping in his bed to avoid reality?

But who was he kidding? Misao occupied his thoughtless mind during the day and came to haunt him at night. He was forced to have vivid dreams of what they had and what they could be if she was still laying next to him. At this point, he wasn’t sure if reality or fiction would be the better option. As painful as it was forcing all thoughts of Misao out of his mind, it had to be done if he wanted to acquire Shiho Bank Ltd. as quick as possible.

He didn’t realize the time until he heard a knock on his door. “Come in.” He ordered without raising his eye to meet the owner of the disturbance, knowing well it was his second in command, Ieyasu Tokugawa.

Known for his strong opinions, Ieyasu was full of wisdom and knowledge. Once a chemical engineer with a Ph. D., he felt unfulfilled at his job creating reusable plastics that he switched careers to becoming the vice president of Iketeru Industries right beside Masamune with an MBA in finance. Being composed was in his nature and he chose his words carefully before making them known. Through the last six years of working together, Masamune and Ieyasu formed a meaningful friendship. He was able to confide in his VP off the record about personal issues without judgment being returned.

Masamune also liked that Ieyasu knew his place. Bowing to the CEO before him, Ieyasu then picks up his head. “I have updates on Project Ripple.” His attention was now divided, but he didn’t pick his eye off the desk. “Stardust is about to premiere on the red carpet.”

Hearing those words, Masamune quickly picked up the remote and turned the TV on, the channel never switched. It was an order he had for everyone who had access to his room to never, ever change the channel. Everyone thought he was nuts but he only did things within reason.

And there she was, appearing like the goddess he remembered her to be. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in big waves and the smoky makeup brought out her light brown eyes. The dress she was wearing was beautiful on her. Strapless navy blue bodice with a gathered skirt transitioning from navy blue to white, she owned the dress as the skirt train slowly flowed behind hair while her steps graced the red carpet.

Masamune couldn’t have been more proud of her. He’s watched the movie so many times and even though it pained him, he couldn’t stop falling in love with her over and over again. Misao, a strong and independent woman, was meant to take the lead actress’ role. With each viewing, he only longed to be in her life, and her in his once more.

A smile escapes his lips as he watched many other celebrities acknowledging her from the sidelines, welcoming her with hugs and air kisses. Afterall, she was the ‘it’ actress at the very moment. He couldn’t have been more proud, wishing he could have yelled at Ieyasu that that was his girlfriend on the screen and strutting her stuff across the red carpet. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms across his chest, enjoying the very sight of the camera following her everywhere she went.

And then, there was him. Masamune’s one eye glared at the TV as he recognized the male actor who co-starred with Misao in the movie. Vinny Mann Jr., another hot celebrity in town. He clenched his jaw seeing Vinny’s arm around her waist, a little too low for comfort. His black button down shirt was open on the chest area and a pair of coral colored fitted slacks was an interesting choice. But Masamune concluded one thing, the dude’s ego was inflated as hell.

Getting up abruptly, Masamune grabbed his long peacoat, swinging it over his broad shoulders and letting them hang like a mannequin on a store display. Just before he was about to exit his office, he looked back at his VP and friend. “I trust you know what to do from here.” Masamune said with a grin only to receive a short nod in return. “Good luck my friend.” Opening the door, he finally leaves the office.

Just as Ieyasu was about to turn and face the windows, Masamune popped in one more time, “get me a ticket to that after party.”

But I've found my way to velvet sands I'll crash right into you

After passing her award for best actress, Misao’s team helped her switch out of her regal gown into a soft pale blue sweetheart dress that stopped on her thighs. Her team also ensured her long, luscious locks were kept in a messy bun, strays of hair flowing elegantly here and there. In no time, she arrived at the exclusive after party the director of her movie invited her to.

Her ride pulled up to another red carpet that led into the venue where dozens of paparazzis were already snapping away. When she finally opened the door, the shutter noises were amplified along with the shouting matches of the paparazzis trying get her to spill any industry secrets possible. Jokes on them, she wasn’t in on any gossip floating around, she thought to herself. Smiling sweetly for the cameras, she waited until her plus one to step out from the other side of the car and walk over to her.

“Misao! Over here!” One paparazzi called out. “Who’s your date tonight?”

Another one joined in, “is she your lover?”

Misao and her best friend looked at each other in the same time before bursting with laughter. “Yes, this is my best friend Riley and I love her to death.” She responded before throwing an arm around Riley for a side hug. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to party it up tonight.” Linking arms, the two best friends walked the very long red carpet together, finally away from the thundering shutter noises.

When the doormen opened the giant entrance doors, Misao and Riley gasped in surprise. The venue itself was actually someone’s home. A large chandelier dangled in the foyer, leaving a significant amount of room between people and the the chandelier itself. Two grand staircases were at either sides of the foyer. Deeper into the mansion, they passed the huge open kitchen where foods and drinks were open for taking. Passed that was a beautiful living room with black Italian leather couches facing a fake fireplace with a flat screen TV so large Misao couldn’t comprehend how big it was.

It wasn’t long before Gerry Nu, the director of their award winning best picture film, came over and started introducing them to all the celebrities in the house. Misao treated this advantageous networking event as if it were any other social event with the press. She could tell Riley was enjoying the time of her life, meeting some of her celebrity crushes in the meantime. She managed to help her best friend get in contact with the Prince of Bellevue.

After making her rounds, Misao guided them to the couches in the living room they saw earlier. Riley took two champagne glasses and handed one to her famous best friend. “So this is what I get to experience as the best friend of Misao.”

“Famous Misao.” She added, laughing at the correction with Riley. “Cheers to our first award show after party!”

“Cheers!” Clinking their glasses, they immediately sip their bubbly. “So how have you been adjusting to all of this? You’re practically an overnight success!” Riley asked.

Misao let out a long sigh, taking a seat on one of the couches where her best friend immediately took the cue. “Honestly, it’s everything I hoped for but at the same time, it’s not. This whole, thing,” she gestured her free arm around herself, “it’s a double edged sword.”

Crossing her legs, Riley placed a hand on Misao’s knee, giving her a soft smile. “Is it because of Masamune?”

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood at the mention of that name. Misao hated hearing it yet she was always reminded of their most happiest memories. She never dared to mention his name, afraid that even whispering it meant breaking down the shield she’s forged during the past two years away from Masamune.

But acknowledgement wasn’t needed on Misao’s part. Even for someone who literally just won an award for adopting other’s emotions and stories, the distraught on her face was clear as night and day. Riley couldn’t help but feel guilty, being the other party who pushed Misao to chase after her dreams. At that time, after losing her love, she convinced her best friend and herself that Masamune’s business was booming and that she should take the opportunity and work on her own career seriously. Although she wasn’t lying, Riley never imagined seeing her best friend facing so much inner turmoil.

“I’m sorry.” Riley apologized with a soft smile.

Misao returned the gesture before something, or rather someone caught her attention. Although many others were dress in a suit tonight, this person was still standing in the kitchen, looking around frantically for someone. His head snapped back and forth before finding what he was looking for, her. Her eyes widened and her jaws dropped, it couldn’t be.

The room suddenly went blurry and quiet except for his figure storming over with those deafening steps he took. His strides were filled with authority, the black suit fitting his figure so perfectly. His light brown hair was styled effortlessly. His eyes, never once leaving her’s, were filled with lust and determination.

“Ma-” Misao only managed to utter before her plump pink lips were converged with sweet warm ones. Immediately, warmth spread all over her body, breaking the ice around her heart. His hands cupped her cheeks warmly and protectively, assuring her she no longer needs to be afraid. She had longed for warmth and familiarity for so long she didn’t dare to disobey his command. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment, kissing back more fervently.

He picked up her body language easily, never forgetting his mother tongue. His hands shifted now, one behind the nape of her neck and the other on her lower back, pulling her closer while securing her into the warmth of his arms. He didn’t care how crazy he looked or acted in front of some of Hollywood’s biggest stars at the moment. All he cared about was how much he’s missed her all this time and how he planned to make it up to her.

There were no words that exists to describe this moment, it was a dream come true. Even Masamune was surprised at himself managing to fly across the ocean within half the duration and crash this exclusive party. Those five hours in the air still felt like a lifetime as he contemplated on what he would say to his love after all this time. He rehearsed it many times to himself in his mind yet his actions spoke louder than those words.

He is still in a daze now that Misao was finally in his arms again and he was actually kissing her. The loneliness and dark clouds that once put him in a stump the past two and a half years were finally lifted and he could feel life once again. He couldn’t imagine how she must have felt moving to a new country and city all alone with Riley being her only true friend. He knew this time he couldn’t let her revoke that pain ever again.

As difficult as it was, Masamune broke the kiss apart, his eyes searching for hers. When he was able to find her soul through those brown windows, he noticed the room grew quiet. “I’m so sorry love, I never meant to hurt you.” He stated, finally finding his voice. “Through all the years you’ve stood by my side and watched my empire grow with me, I never once looked to my side for you. I deserve all the loneliness and heartache during our time apart since I held you back from chasing your dreams. I should’ve stood right by your side through all your failures and successes.” He let out grin, a hand wiping away a tear trailing down her cheek as she beamed a smile at him. “But you had no failures, I did. I let you down. But I never stopped loving you lass and I never will, not even after death do us apart.”

Picking out the red velvet box from his slacks, Masamune got down on one knee while opening the box to reveal a shiny 2 carat diamond ring. The waterworks struck Misao. “Misao, you must know you and only you hold my heart. You have only ever loved me unconditionally and I cannot wait to return the gesture. Then again, it’s so easy when you are the greatest love of my life. This is my vow to you.” He pauses, gesturing the ring to her. “Misao, will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man alive?”

Wiping her tear stained cheeks, Misao was finally aware of all the eyes watching the interaction between the two of them with their phones out. She must’ve looked so ugly crying the entire time. She couldn’t lie, her mind suddenly turned to mush and blanked out. After two and a half years, the love of her life enters the scenes again and confesses he hasn’t stopped loving her. How was any normal person react to that?

“I’ve never stopped loving you either, Mas.” She called him endearingly. “Mas, I never once thought of you as a hindrance or burden on my career. I chose to support you and your career first because let’s be honest, how many Asian actors and actresses ever actually become famous? I’m so touched you’re in front of me right now. And I’d love to make you the happiest man in the world because that would make me the luckiest gal in the world.”

An eruption of cheers fill the silence of the house as Masamune quickly but carefully place the ring on Misao’s fourth finger and picked her up and swung her around. After a few rounds, he places her back down before planting another long and deep kiss. Pulling apart, he says to her breathlessly, “let’s get out of here love.”

Without waiting for an answer, Masamune pulled Misao with him as the path through the house to the front door cleared for them. They rushed past the red carpet where paparazzis were still standing and new flashes emerged quickly. As the paparazzis shouted questions there way, the newly engaged couple gave them no mind before quickly hurrying into his limo.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s weekly politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

micah (Micah Cohen, politics editor): I’ve been consumed with the race for the House of late, and I picked my head up on Tuesday and got smacked in the face by two bombshells!

Amelia and Perry, I’ll need your help making sense of them!

ameliatd (Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux, FiveThirtyEight contributor): This is my first chat — anything to be aware of?

micah: omg! How have I never asked you to do a chat before??!!

perry (Perry Bacon Jr., senior writer): Micah likes when you give long answers and take a long time in between each one.

micah: The opposite of what Perry said.

ameliatd: IDK, Perry’s advice sounds solid.

micah: OK, the two bombshells:

As our friends at ABC News reported, Michael Cohen, President Trump’s former lawyer/fixer, “pleaded guilty to eight counts and said in open court that he made illegal campaign contributions ‘in coordination and at the direction of a candidate for federal office.’” (That candidate is presumably Trump.)

Almost simultaneously, a jury found Trump’s former campaign chairman, Paul Manafort, guilty on eight counts of financial crimes. (Of the special counsel’s 18-count indictment.)

So for today’s chat, let’s go through some of the people making news of late, starting with Cohen and Manafort, and rate each according to how much of a threat — politically and legally — each appears to be at this moment to Trump.

Sound good?

ameliatd: Yes!

perry: Yup.

micah: We’ll put each person on a scale from 1 to 10 “Muellers.”

1 Mueller is no threat at all.

10 Muellers is HUGE threat.

First up: Michael Cohen.

(No relation.)

ameliatd: This is 9 Muellers. Really big news.

It doesn’t appear right now that Cohen is cooperating with the federal prosecutors in the Southern District of New York, which is a little surprising, but the fact that he said in court that he violated the law at the direction of the president is huge.

Of course, he didn’t name Trump in court, but that’s standard — clearly Trump is the candidate implicated here.

perry: I would rank Cohen at 8 Muellers.

He is now basically saying that he paid off two women who had affairs with Trump to keep them quiet on the eve of the election. As Amelia said, that’s big.

For one, he’s associating the president directly with criminal activity. And second, that activity happened during Trump’s election, not like seven years ago. Even the charges brought against Manafort are not really about 2016. The Cohen case involved real criminal activity in the middle of the campaign.

I wouldn’t rank Cohen as 9 Muellers, though, because it’s not about the Russia collusion investigation. But Cohen was on the campaign — so he may know something about that issue too.

ameliatd: Cohen is sort of in the middle of everything with Trump. And that’s why I gave this a 9. Collusion, business dealings, obstruction — there’s danger for Trump from all angles.

Maybe I’ve been swayed by the drama of the day, but all of this is really stunning to me.

Cohen said he did this with the intent of influencing the election, and proving the link to the campaign has always been a challenge for campaign finance cases.

perry: Yeah.

Still, I don’t think Trump is likely to be removed from office or pushed to resign because he paid people off to keep extramarital affairs quiet — even if those payments violated the law. Collusion/conspiracy with Russia is the big issue that can end his presidency. I don’t think affairs will do it.

micah: You agree with that, Amelia?

ameliatd: I agree that this doesn’t end Trump’s presidency.

On the other hand, Trump is essentially appearing to be a co-conspirator in a federal crime.

micah: I feel like a lot of people will downplay this as like, “Bureaucratic campaign finance rules mumbo jumbo — who can keep track of that!”

I also wonder, though, whether there’s a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy in the media going on here. Repeat “only collusion can bring down Trump” again and again and it becomes so, no?

On paper, this is a big deal!

perry: I think “affairs can’t bring a president down” is the conventional wisdom because — at least in part — Democrats made that case 20 years ago.

micah: Yeah, I’m not saying it will bring down Trump, or should bring down Trump, to be clear.

OK, let’s fold Paul Manafort in here!

perry: 6 Muellers.

Your campaign chairman being found guilty on eight counts is not great, but I think most of the political damage to Trump was done when Manafort was indicted. And it sounds like Manafort isn’t giving evidence against Trump.

Manafort would jump up several Mueller points if the president pardoned him.

ameliatd: 4 Muellers.

He’s guilty on eight counts, which isn’t a big surprise. And he’ll still be sentenced to prison for a long time — federal sentencing is complicated, and the fact that a mistrial was declared on the other 10 won’t have much of an impact.

micah: The only other thing I’d say is that it really wasn’t one thing that brought down Richard Nixon. It was the accumulation of a lot of stuff.

Some of it related. Some of it not.

So, in that sense, all of this could work together against Trump, right?

ameliatd: Yes — one thing that was striking as I was going through Watergate indictments for our chart of special counsel investigations was how many different directions that investigation went in. Not just stuff related to the burglary and cover-up, but enormous numbers of campaign finance violations and even an effort to fix milk prices.

micah:

ameliatd: So it’s really hard, at this point in any complex investigation, to isolate what is and isn’t important. That seems sort of obvious, but it’s worth repeating, I think.

micah: I’ve always found Manafort’s part in this weird.

On the one hand, his position in Trumpworld was important (campaign chairman) but pretty brief and narrow — i.e., he’s not someone like Cohen or Jared Kushner who’s been with Trump forever.

On the other hand, thematically, Manafort’s bio and résumé line up the best with a theory of the case that’s more toward the full collusion end of the spectrum. Just with his connections to Russia and everything.

perry: Exactly.

And well put.

It’s hard to imagine, if there was a pretty extensive collusion, that Manafort would not be involved.

micah: Yeah, the full-collusion story sorta has to feature Manafort prominently, you would think.

The “witless” collusion story maybe doesn’t as much.

ameliatd: Yes — I mean, Manafort allegedly had contact with Russian business associates during the campaign that are … fishy.

But if he has valuable info, why hasn’t he flipped already? And why hasn’t Mueller charged him with something more directly related to collusion?

I also want to caveat all this by saying that I continue to be confused by Mueller’s strategy on Manafort.

He’s the only person who Mueller has brought to trial. It is not clear to me if that’s because he is trying very hard to flip Manafort because he thinks Manafort has valuable information or if Mueller genuinely just wants to put Manafort behind bars for (alleged) extensive criminal activity.

If it’s the latter, this is not a big threat for Trump.

If it’s the former, it’s hard to say what will happen. Maybe Manafort will flip now that he’s been found guilty of some of the charges against him. He still has another trial coming up, so this is just Round No. 1.

But I think it’s also totally possible that Manafort does not have helpful information for Mueller.

micah: Next!

Donald McGahn, the White House counsel. The New York Times reported a few days ago that McGahn has done a lot of talking with special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigators and that Trump’s lawyers don’t really have a good grip on what he’s said. (Although, The Washington Post then reported that McGahn “does not believe that he implicated President Trump in any legal wrongdoing.”)

perry: 7

ameliatd: I agree, Perry — 7 Muellers.

(Loving this picture of a gang of identical Muellers.)

micah: Wow. That’s pretty high!

ameliatd: Well, it’s a pretty big deal! McGahn could have given Mueller key information for his potential report on whether Trump obstructed the Russia investigation.

perry: McGahn did work on the campaign, so maybe he knows a lot about a conspiracy with Russia, if that happened. But in terms of what he saw/heard at the White House, I think he probably witnessed things that would make Trump look really bad (what Trump did and said as he fired FBI Director James Comey, thought about firing Mueller and took other steps to limit the Russia investigation). But I don’t think he is the witness that changes everything. Based on what we know now, likening McGahn to Nixon White House Counsel John Dean, who came out publicly and strongly against the president back then, is a bit much.

ameliatd: Yeah, in general, I don’t think comparisons to Watergate are helpful. McGahn probably doesn’t have “smoking gun” evidence. (For that matter, neither did John Dean!) But even if McGahn told Mueller about actions by Trump that aren’t criminal, all of that is fodder for the report. And could turn into impeachment charges, if that’s ever a reality.

perry: I’m somewhat skeptical of the idea that Mueller charges Trump with obstructing justice for firing Comey — or that McGahn saying definitely that Trump fired Comey to end the Russia investigation tells us anything that’s significant or new. We can see Trump trying to limit — if not technically illegally obstruct — the Russia investigation right in front of our eyes.

7 is high, but it’s not 10.

And I feel like this McGahn story was covered like it was a 10.

ameliatd: Well, it is August.

micah: Haha. True.

NEXT!

Omarosa Manigault Newman!

perry: 4

If there is a tape of Trump saying the “n” word (as Manigault Newman, a former White House aide, has alleged), that matters. Yes, Trump has done some things that you could argue are racist. But I think that for many Americans, saying the “n” word is a big deal in a way that the “both sides” Charlottesville comment wasn’t. So if Omarosa leads us to the tape, that’s a big deal.

Otherwise, her book (which, yes, I thumbed through) is a dud.

ameliatd: I think it’s 5 Muellers — assuming that she’s able to keep the attention on her.

But I have not seen or read the book. What is dud-like about it, Perry?

perry: It just doesn’t tell us much that we didn’t already know — i.e., Trump is erratic and says racial and racist things.

micah: Yeah.

perry: Like on Monday.

ameliatd: I do think people who are able to turn Trump’s tactics against him can do some damage, but it’s really hard to predict how things will spin out. Which is why I am inclined to be hedge-y about Omarosa.

micah: OK, let’s wrap this up with some rapid-fire ratings …

John Brennan.

perry: 2 Muellers.

Trump’s decision to revoke the former CIA director’s security clearance was authoritarian, an aggressive move to silence a critic. But it’s a D.C./NYC story that doesn’t matter much to real people.

ameliatd: 2.

Yeah, in another universe, this might be a big deal, but it’s par for the course given Trump’s attacks on the intelligence community.

And the damage has already been done there — I don’t buy the speculation that this is going to have a chilling effect on law enforcement.

micah: Michael Avenatti, the lawyer for Stormy Daniels who has raised the idea that he might run president.

perry: 6 as a lawyer. It seems that the payment by Cohen to Daniels, which Avenatti made into a big issue, has helped lead us to the point where Cohen is potentially in a deal with prosecutors.

2 as a presidential candidate. He could be the Democratic nominee, I guess (Donald Trump is president; let’s not rule anything out). But I don’t see him as being a better candidate than Warren/Sanders/Biden/Booker, etc.

ameliatd: 5 Muellers.

Avenatti’s legal pursuits could help uncover new information, as Perry said — but it’s also difficult to win the kinds of cases he’s bringing. The presidential run seems … implausible?

micah: Anyone else you want to throw into the ring?

perry: William McRaven, who was the commander of the Joint Special Operations Command and oversaw the raid that killed Osama bin Laden, is blasting Trump over taking away Brennan’s security clearance.

This criticism is important in terms of illustrating how Trump is breaking norms. But politically, it’s not a game-changer — it’s the national security establishment hates Trump, Example No. 1,934. So that gets 1 Mueller.

ameliatd: I would put McRaven in the same category as Brennan. Important in an alternate universe, but won’t have an impact now.

micah: Final thoughts? It seems like you think Cohen is the biggest threat to Trump?

ameliatd: That’s what I think. It seems hard to imagine that he doesn’t have something that’s quite damaging to Trump. And even though the deal he’s cut doesn’t involve cooperation right now, he could still work with Mueller or prosecutors in the future.

perry: There are a lot of threats to Trump. But, yeah, I tend to think Cohen, like Amelia said, is connected to everything in Trumpworld. He has the most potential to reveal something about Trump that is very problematic. And he is not working at the White House. McGahn is in a role that I assume gives him some incentive not to bad-mouth the president.

ameliatd: Apart from Cohen’s understandable desire to stay out of prison, the stories about how Trump treated him over the years are pretty shocking

If Cohen has information to offer, it doesn’t seem like he has much of a reason to hold back.

micah: OK, let’s end with a question for readers … there’s a prominent member of the Trump administration who could be a threat to the presidency who we haven’t rated on the Mueller scale: Trump himself. How many Muellers would you give the president, from 1 to 10?