#THE WAY COLM IS LOOKING INTO THE CAMERA

[pealeii]

bugs when you lift up a rock

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Under Siege (Davis, 1992)

Despite the fact that I own this on DVD (I think), I saw it was about to leave Canadian Netflix in a few days and decided to give it a rewatch. Mostly because I don't remember where I placed my copy (if I actually own a copy, that is; I think it's included in one of those "Four Film Favourites" releases that Warner Brothers used to put out so you can get four movies of wildly varying quality for dirt cheap; I think I actually got two of the Steven Seagal ones, inspired by Vern's wildly entertaining book Seagalogy; no, I don't remember where the other collection is either; such is the peril of buying movies faster than you watch them), but also because it's nice to be reminded that a movie kinda owns. And rewatching this, I can confirm that, yes, it does kinda own.

This is regarded as one of the better Die Hard clones, and like that movie is greatly evocative of the physical reality of its location. A ship is a great location for an action movie, because whether you're in the control room (or whatever you call that in a ship) or in the bowels (or whatever), there's always garish, coloured lighting that pops on the camera. There are always pipes and hissing steam to provide atmosphere. There's always clanging to remind you what a formidable piece of machinery we're in. There are always little things jutting out to give you interesting things to look at in the frame. There are always tight little corners for the camera to snake around and the characters to duck behind for cover as they're shooting at each other. I generally think of Andrew Davis more as a good director of action movies rather than a good action director, but I think he acquits himself pretty nicely in the shootouts. He's less impressive with the fight scenes, going in a bit too close and cutting a little too fast, perhaps to hide Seagal's slipping physical prowess, but despite all the camera shakes and excessive knife waving in the climax, he gets a good jolt out of the flashes of brutality. This is not Seagal's most bloodthirsty movie, lacking the ultraviolence of Out for Justice and Marked for Death (or arguably Hard to Kill, where he offers to take the villain to the blood bank), but it has its moments.

Davis' strengths as a director go a long way in making Seagal seem charismatic, shooting him in handsomely lit close-ups and cutting to punch up his delivery. (Davis previously worked miracles not just with Seagal but also Chuck Norris, who frequently comes off as flat but in Code of Silence is made to look like a seasoned character actor.) He may seem like a joke now, but for a couple of years there, Seagal really seemed like a big deal, like somebody with an unusual screen presence who was appearing in some really entertaining movies. Of course, it turns out that the unusual screen presence was the result of him being weird and a piece of shit, and with the mask coming off with On Deadly Ground (which was totally unable to hide what a fucking freak this guy was), it became obvious that directors like Davis and John Flynn (the man behind the aforementioned Out for Justice, my personal favourite Seagal flick, imbuing him with a nice streetwise swagger as he goes around town for ninety minutes brutally maiming or killing mob goons while spouting lines in a shitty Brooklyn accent) were doing heroic work in directing around him. Davis also cheats here by casting him against Gary Busey and Colm Meaney, two actors who excel at playing assholes, and providing a great lead villain with Tommy Lee Jones. The crazy guy villain played by an actor going against type is such a stock character in action movies now, that it's nice to be reminded what you get when you have a genuinely great actor in the role, and Jones, on top of being very fun to watch, gives him a real unpredictability. I was less enamoured with the handling of Erika Eleniak, who is cast for her Playboy credentials but is not the greatest actress and spends the movie being bullied by Seagal (which does not go down well in light of his his offscreen actions). I will however note that she's the only person in the history of movies who doesn't look dumb as hell with a backwards ballcap, so she does have that going for her.

A few additional notes:

As far as Die Hard clones go, I think I prefer The Rock, which probably has the best use of Nicolas Cage in an action movie, pairs him with Sean Connery in one of the all-time action movie teamups, and has a murderer's row of great supporting actors as well as those big, beautiful, gleaming Michael Bay magazine cover images while retaining some level of visual coherence. I'm also very partial to Die Hard 2, but I guess that's cheating.)

As a Die Hard clone, it hits an awful lot of the same beats, including a shot of its hero jumping off something to evade an explosion, a seemingly impotent supporting character (re)discovering their capacity for violence, villains pretending to be political terrorists but actually acting for personal gain. They do differ in satirical intent, with Die Hard taking aim at pompous authority figures and macho meatheads, while Under Siege is concerned more about the aftermath of Cold War American foreign policy. (The villain is a black ops type who the CIA was happy to let run free when he was useful but then tried to dispose of, not unlike the attempts by the George H. W. Bush administration to "course correct" through the invasion of Panama and the Gulf War. H.W. himself makes an appearance, you think he knew what the movie was saying about him?) Surprisingly, the guys in the control room are more supportive in this movie, with Dale Dye's casting presenting a guarantee of Seagal's heroism. If a guy whose job it is to advise movies on military accuracy says we can trust Seagal, we can trust Seagal.

I've seen this movie multiple times, and I keep forgetting that Seagal doesn't actually have a ponytail in this one. From certain angles, it looks like he might have, given the way his hair is slicked back, but he turns his head, and a ponytail is nowhere to be seen. I guess they don't let you keep one in the navy. But I'm sure the next time I revisit this, I'll be surprised again. This is my Mandela Effect. Others have the imaginary Sinbad genie movie. I have Seagal's spectral ponytail.

[elijahrichardwrites]

Find The Word Tag Game!

I was tagged by @mjjune, @minutiaewriter, & @sanguine-arena (I think I was tagged by someone else but I can no longer find it) for one of my fav tag games (: Thank you friends <33

I have missed so many of these so we've got a little bit of a long one on our hands haha

MJ's words: heart, pulse, hair, sigh, gasp, sun, fight, burn, sting, cool, wood, fire, cleanse, rain, & snow!

Minnie's words: tree, dream, tear, hand, & shadow!

Theo's words: alone, quiet, dusk, despite, & thought!

I'll be sort of challenging myself and only using Nite & Daye!

Everything under the cut <3

HEART

Amoris felt his heart soften and his body relax as he watched them take another drag from their cigarette. They fit their name so perfectly, with silver hair currently tied in a top knot, and even in casual wear, they still carried an air of true beauty. Sitting in a weather-worn lawn chair, donning a ratty tee and basketball shorts, Amoris still found them extraordinarily beautiful.

HAIR

Upon seeing the face of the other person, Daye's entire body froze. If it weren't for the long hair and height difference, Daye could swear he was looking in a mirror.

SIGH(ed)

Amoris sighed at her question. He knew she wasn't going to drop it until he told her.

BURN

"Merel for First's sake, you're going to burn the dip." She gave Merel a stern look and received a soft "oh" in response. Amoris looked from those two to the child at the table. Colm had set down the paper he was pouring through and caught Amoris' eyes. He gave a wave and smile before breaking eye contact when the sound of a smack filled the room.

COOL

"Cool," Daye said as he walked out of the store, irritated that he dumped all his snacks and had left empty-handed. He walked a few steps, a few raindrops catching on his dark hair when he realized something that made his irritation grow. He had left his umbrella in that store and now due to his outburst and the fact that the cashier recognized him, he couldn't just walk back in and grab it.

RAIN

He finally got the umbrella open and he made his way down the back steps. Although the temperature wasn't a big deal to him, let alone anyone in this world, he was glad he brought his jacket with him. Perhaps he was glad just for the comfort as he walked down the dark and damp alleyway towards the street. The street where many people walked to and fro, keeping a faster pace as they all attempted to lessen their time in the rain.

HAND

Amoris clutched the keys in his hand and felt the teeth dig into his palm. He would be fine, he was sure. The city was large and there were plenty of places for him to run if need be. He just needed to make it to the meeting spot and he'd be fine. Rachel didn't look like much but there was a reason she was kept around despite, well, despite her past.

ALONE

Of course it would catch his attention. How could it not with who he watched wave to the cameras and fans alike? He watched the screen as she made her way to a podium, smiling at the crowd before her. He honestly might be sick from her smile alone, as fake as her love for her adoring citizens.

QUIET

"No," he cut her off before she would finish her suggestion. With that, he received a sideways glance from her but she left it alone. The rest of the ride was quiet and Amoris looked out the window, watching the scenery pass by his eyes.

DESPITE

He stared down at the tattoos climbing up her arms and despite knowing that she also owned the parlor upstairs, the faint shimmering around the edges of them told Amoris that it was a glamour.

THOUGHT

Daye glanced down at the piece of paper still in his hand. He thought about just tossing it but something told him to at least give it a look. He unfolded it and on it in neat handwriting was Amoris Rien and his phone number. Daye scoffed before getting up and throwing it in the garbage.

I did not have anything for pulse, gasp, sun, fight, sting, wood, fire, cleanse, snow, tree, dream, tear, shadow, & dusk

I'll be leaving this one as an open tag and for anyone who wants to do this, your words will be usual, brought, fear, path, & down!

[ravenkings]

[...] After Obama won, it became increasingly clear that the audience wanted more stories about Democratic perfidy. Executives at Fox would later acknowledge that the network then took a “hard right turn” as the Tea Party galvanized its base audience, and [Roger] Ailes let his hosts push more. It was around that time that “Hannity & Colmes” became “Hannity.” Ailes also built a new afternoon program around another conservative host, Glenn Beck. In the summer of 2009, Beck shared his belief that Obama had “a deep-seated hatred for white people, or the white culture.” Major advertisers dropped sponsorship of his show. Shine said Beck was speaking for himself, not the network — but this time there was no apology.

Still, even as he was starting to fashion himself as the shadow chief of the Republican Party, Ailes made an effort to demonstrate that he had some limits. In 2010, when [Sean] Hannity landed in Cincinnati to appear at a Tea Party event, Ailes ordered him to get right back on a flight home to New York. The organizers, charging admission fees, were profiting from the Fox brand, and Fox hosts were not supposed to let themselves be used that way. By the summer of 2011, Beck was out. His overwrought diatribes about George Soros and sundry leftists in the Obama administration were becoming “a branding issue,” as Ailes later explained — and, perhaps more to the point, his ratings were dropping.

With the 2012 presidential election, Fox struggled to maintain an increasingly angry — and fickle — audience. Core viewers didn’t want to believe that Obama was cruising to re-election, and Fox’s hosts and guests told them over and over that they did not have to: The polls showing an Obama victory over his Republican rival, Mitt Romney, were “skewed” by mainstream pollsters with a Democratic bias.

Ailes had long seen every election night as a chance to burnish the news division’s “fair and balanced” bona fides. “Don’t go out there looking like your puppy died,” he would say. But in 2012, viewers’ wishes and reality reached an impasse. As Obama clinched the critical state of Ohio, Karl Rove — George W. Bush’s former political adviser, now a Fox contributor — said the call was premature, keeping audience hopes alive; Megyn Kelly, a rising star from the news side, shut him down mercilessly, marching down to the Fox News decision desk, on camera, to have the team explain why in no uncertain terms Rove was wrong.

In the days that followed Obama’s re-election, Fox’s ratings fell, so much at some points that the network was trailing MSNBC in the key 25-to-54 age demographic, a focus of advertisers. As the discussion about whether and how the network had lost the trust of its audience continued, executives in the news division dropped their most strident poll denier, the political analyst Dick Morris, and sidelined Rove. But another network regular, Donald J. Trump, appeared to draw a different lesson from the election miss. The audience wanted to stay in the world Fox presented the first time.

–Jim Rutenberg, “How Fox Chased Its Audience Down the Rabbit Hole,” The New York Times Magazine, April 6, 2023

[lilithfreya]

Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone Modern College AU's

Like I promisse Jesper and Wylan timie, let's go

Jesper:

As in the books, I don't think Jes will actually finish college, but I think because of Colm he will start a postgraduate degree like Business or Agroconomina, but he will end up switching to another more artistic course like design or theater, but in reality he he will become an influencer, first on tiktok showing the izarrice of his life and then on instagram or Twitch. And in his videos it always seems that he has one more person nearby but he never appeared in front of the cameras in the voice. Jes picked up Kaz during middle school, he had a problem with the older boys and Kaz saved him, and since then they became friends, he also had a brief crush on Kaz but it never came to anything, in the summers we each went back to each other a place, Kaz for a summer camp and Jes for the farm. But now in college they share an apartment near the college, in fact jes got kicked out of college accommodation, due to non-payment because he ended up spending all the money on gambling and couldn't talk to Colm about it and ended up living with Kaz , about his promise to start treatment. Jes met Wylan during one of the music presentations he did and he went to photograph or participate in a theater play, and even though there has been an intention about them, he was there with Kuwei and nothing ended up happening, until the Jes finally admitted his feelings and stopped running from fear of being hurt again. After that they became the bubblegum couple who don't break up for anything, you send a message to one and both reply. As previously mentioned, Jes met Nina during one of their group sessions, but he met Inej because of Kaz, one day he came home and there was a girl sitting on the windowsill and that was it, after the first conversation they saw best friends and he wanted to try to understand how she met Kaz and he was surprised that she met him first but he never could understand if the two are in a relationship or not because there is a tension there and the looks but neither of them do anything , because that after he resolved his situation with Wy, it became his mission to see his friends in happy relationships and finally assume his feelings, after all he is the best cupid possible. Jesper was very angry and felt betrayed when he found out that they had actually been together for a long time, they just never told him.

Wylan:

Wy is studying chemistry at university, but he takes a lot of music subjects because it helps him to relax, to concentrate better and to earn some money for himself, because playing was something he used to do with his mother who died a year ago. about two years, but his father, who never paid attention to him and always called him stupid, already has a new pregnant girlfriend who is an angel of a person, but after her pregnancy was discovered, he had to go to college earlier to get out of bed. their way without any money. And it was the best thing possible for him, despite having suffered prejudice at first for being gay, he ended up meeting wonderful people and made a new family for himself, having Mathias and Nina as his older brothers, Jes, the boy he ended up with falling in love and who even finding it impossible also loves him and of course the mysterious couple Kaz and Inej who even though they are not very affectionate with them always helps and protects him whether with problems with the department that ignores his dyslexia or with his father damn you It was thanks to Kaz and Inej that he found out that his mother was actually alive and that he could already receive part of his inheritance and helped his stepmother to separate from his hateful father and go to prison for his crimes, drug trafficking and corruption, all during his campaign to become mayor. With his mother at home he could finally go back home but he decided to buy an apartment to give Mathias and Nina more space, and of course Jes moved in with him, all as part of the plan to make sure Kaz and Inej could spend more time alone and maybe become more than friends, even if in fact during one night he is sure he saw the two of them dancing in the kitchen, but he never told any of his friends, since he believed that they should have their own time and he too had a bet to win and if all went well those roosters would be all theirs. Not that they needed it now, spoiler he won the bet and he was the only one who wasn't surprised to find out how firm their relationship was. Even after accessing his money Wy decided to take art and music classes with his hand at the charity center, where he stayed close to Alina, Genya and Zoya, they basically adopted him when they found out he was friends with Nina and all the drama with his father and thanks to that he was able to help during the whole story that happened between Alina and her crazy teacher who started to chase the poor thing and sabotage their relationship, he couldn't take lying to poor Mal about where his girlfriend was anymore, when he was going to bring him lunch but once he was arrested, everything ended well, so much so that he was very proud to be able to participate in the proposal that Alina made to Mal that same year.

maybe this turned out a little longer than i planned but ok, next couple zoya and nikolai.

Part 1 Alina and Mal

Part 2 - Nina and Matthias

[wesper-ao3feed]

yesterday we were just children

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/DvVj0nf by gildedace “Citizens of Ravka,” the man on screen began, his artificially magnified voice booming over the gathered crowd. Kaz tried not to frown. He may have been born long after District 12 had become Ravka instead of Kerch, but he still was not likely to consider the broken-down collection of districts strung together Ravka. “Tsar Kirigan has heard the voices of his people. While we remind you that the Hunger Games are an act of remembrance for our nation, the Tsar and his council have put forth a tribute of our own this year. It is my greatest honor, to present to you the tribute for your great capitol of Os Alta, Wylan Van Eck.” Gasps and whispers tore through the crowd that had gathered for the reaping. On screen, the camera cuts to a boy. Kaz’s first thought is how young the boy looks. His second is how quickly the boy will die. __ Every year the Capitol holds a reaping for the otkazat'sya children in the districts. The crows become six of the over two dozen tributes sent to the arena. Along the way, they end up fighting not just for their lives, but for the fate of the Ravkan empire. Words: 4652, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone (TV), Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Rue (Hunger Games), Effie Trinket, Zoya Nazyalensky, Genya Safin, Colm Fahey, Jan Van Eck, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, POV Alternating, The Capitol (Hunger Games), Crows as Found Family (Six of Crows), Canon-Typical Violence, Wylan Van Eck is the Sun Summoner, Rebellion, Enemies to Lovers, Pining read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/DvVj0nf

[spookyfbi]

what did cody said about klave?

Omg Anon okay so, twitter user umbrellaacademy invited Cody to do a twitter space with them which they did yesterday (8PM Friday EST) and Cody stayed for OVER TWO AND A HALF HOURS answering fan questions and saying SO MANY things about Dave and Klave and I am still so overwhelmed. I have recorded it and I’ve sent the video to the host and they’ve said they’ll release it soon (although the file is massive so I suspect they’ll have a bit of trouble wrangling it like I did so it might take longer). In the meantime, some highlights under the cut:

- Dave’s favourite thing about Klaus is his openness. He’s charismatic because he’s unafraid to be himself. Cody also finds it endearing that Klaus marches to the beat of his own drum.

- He likes the idea that the briefcase brought Klaus to Dave because of fate/destiny. Dave is the missing piece of Klaus, he fills a void in Klaus. He’s as interested as we are to find out if the timeline loops back in season 3

- Dave is soft spoken. There are qualities of Dave that have grounded and soothed Klaus but also Klaus has pulled Dave out of his shell. Klaus’ openness was like an invitation to Dave to open up and be goofy and strange, and this was a vibe Cody got from Robert as well in the bar scene, but then the dynamic shifted later and he felt that Dave was the one who was opening up first.

- Dave would go with Klaus to be with his family. He would want Klaus to take the reigns and would trust Klaus re- what kind of life they could have together post Vietnam. Although there would be no hesitation from Dave about his love for Klaus, there might be hesitation about planning a life together because of the time period they were in. There’s a sense of peace and wanting to settle from Klaus. Cody just basically being solidly on the Klaus bringing Dave back to 2019 to meet his family train.

-  There is a sensitivity and self awareness to Dave, Cody thinks he accepted his sexuality but just was careful about advertising it because of the time period. He also says that his Dave in season 1 didn’t have the experience we saw in season 2 with his uncle and that might have made him more open (I am staring directly at my reverse George McFly theory).

- Dave’s love for Klaus is unconditional, he loves him for exactly who he is. Dave’s unconditional love is a foil for the conditional love Klaus gets from his family. Klaus doesn’t really know what love is and then he gets fired this laser beam of love from Dave.

- Cody that been in a play where his character was in a relationship with a guy but he thinks Rob hadn’t done that before. The director set the tone that the kiss scene was an intimate and tender scene. He feels like there was a reassurance from Dave to Klaus in that moment.

- Dave was holding 4 shot glasses in the scene where he’s holding them with both hands. 

- Cody describing Dave in 4 words - kind, sensitive, empathetic, soft. Dave would describe Klaus as free spirited, open, unfiltered, unexpected (he also put forward chaotic but didn’t stick with it and replaced it with unexpected).

- Dave’s first thought when he woke up and saw Klaus was “Is this a dream... We’re not sleeping much so this could be a dream, I wouldn’t put it past my brain” Also “The dream coming to reality but maybe not necessarily looking like what he thought.”

- He thinks Klaus probably took the dogtags off Dave after he died as a way to remember him rather than them exchanging them

- He wants Klaus and Dave’s storyline to end with love prevailing. He also floats the idea of Dave taking a dark turn and Klaus has to be the redemptive person to bring Dave back.

In preparation for playing Dave he watched the Ken Burns Vietnam War documentary series on Netflix and also looked up online about the Vietnam war. He also listened to music he thought Dave would be into from 1965-1968: He mentions Motown and Stones (Cody said he himself likes Motown)

- Cody’s favourite thing about Dave is the quality of how he loves Klaus. He describes it as pure and unconditional and simple and he talks about he thinks people need to love each other fearlessly - not just romantically but in friendships as well, especially with what’s happening now (and this sort of clarifies to me why he was talking about love over fear so passionately in the clever klaus q&a and what he meant by that)

- Cody is a fantasy nerd

- He would love to see Dave giving Klaus some agency

- He thinks that Klaus has some guilt about Dave’s death

- He would like to play a Commission agent (Commission Dave rights!!)

- Robert is very open and unassuming and funny and it was easy to have an immediate rapport with him. Cody also talked with Tom Hopper (about their mutual friend Bradley James). He also briefly met Colm and Robin and he also remembered he met Aidan (who here had a theory about a deleted scene with Aidan in the attic?)

- He doesn’t know how time works in the afterlife or how Klaus’ power works but Dave would have waited 50 years for Klaus

- Calem joined the space and they said that they hadn't interacted before but they had a bit of a chat. Calem said that his filming in season 2 was 4 days but about 1 month apart. Calem’s internet kept cutting out and then he disappeared.

- If Dave was one of the 43 children his power could be the care bear love blast and he could fire hot beams of love out of the hole in his chest. He would give Dave a more passive power to round out the more active powers the other Hargreeves have, like a healer

- The scene in the tent was filmed at the studio. The scene on the bus was shot outside. The scene in the trench was partly shot outside but some of it was shot in the studio as well (I wonder if he’s confusing that trench scene with the hallucination at the Rave though?)

- He said the scenes were beautifully lit (I beg to differ, Cody!)

- Klaus helped unlock that part of him (I think he means Dave’s sexuality) and he also says that Klaus was a very specific target to Dave’s love. Klaus seems like one in a million. When you love someone there’s something specific about them that pulls that out of you.

- Calem returns! He was in his room where the internet crapped out on him but then he went downstairs. Cody asked what it was like for Calem to come in and play an established character. Calem said he purposely didn’t talk with Cody about the character before playing him because he’d done the audition without knowing anything about the character so he didn’t want to risk doing something too different from what he’d done in the audition, but he did watch season 1. He also said he was a bit anxious about what the audience would think of him playing the character, and Cody went into acting mentor mode and said that he doesn’t think the job is about appeasing the fans but about trying to be as true as possible. He also said that Calem did a good job and he shouldn’t be hard on himself but Calem then said that he quickly got over it and he wasn’t thinking about it on set, just afterwards. Calem mentioned that he creeped Cody’s IMDB and he said that his dad was a camera operator on Lizzie Borden Chronicles this Cody guest starred in an episode of.

- Dave loves music like Cody. He mentioned Four Tops as another band and then Motown again. He thinks the bar scene shows Dave’s love of music but he wasn’t thinking about that at the time.

- Dave would be overstimulated at first if he came to the future because we’re bombarded with a lot more stimulus than in the 60s. The internet and iPhones would blow his mind. He let’s a “we’ll see” slip, which he then quickly corrects to “we would see”

- The kiss in the bar was definitely the first kiss and he thinks it happened a couple months into the tour. He thinks the feelings were mutual quite early, but that it would have taken some time to act on them and to be able to gauge if each other were really giving off the signals that they like each other.

- He’s appreciative of the fan love and he tries to make a connection with everyone he can

- Dave is an optimistic force who thinks that love will prevail so he would have wanted to do something to make it work despite the obstacles they faced

- Cody doesn’t know how close to the vest Klaus kept the stuff about his powers and the time travel etc but he did see Klaus appear so he does know there’s something strange about him. Dave trusted Klaus and even if it wasn’t explicitly talked about there was enough trust to go “wherever you go I’ll follow, wherever that leads.” When Klaus conjures Dave, Dave is excited to see him but isn’t really surprised or put off by any of the circumstances that Klaus is in.

- He thinks that Dave is more the listener of the relationship, but he could certainly see Dave telling Klaus about Dune and Klaus indulging him.

- Rob is very genuine, very unassuming, very immediately open, very funny, definitely puts you at ease, incredibly thoughtful, very considerate, good dude (wow it’s the complimenting Rob speed run! 8 in a row!)

- The aspect of Dave that Cody connects to most is his non-judgemental quality

- Dave would connect with Vanya’s softness and Luther’s moral compass (he said Diego’s moral compass in the cleverklaus q&a so not sure if he just mixed them up). He thinks Dave might be a bit too sincere for Five and Ben would appreciate being able to unload Klaus on Dave.

- He thinks Dave is not a tattoo guy but Klaus is impulsive so getting a tattoo really aligns with his personality. He thinks that Dave’s actions speak louder than words written on him

- He connects to the fractured family theme of the show on a personal level

- Dave being jewish was something he only learned about through looking at the dogtags, it wasn’t in the script or anything

- Dave might have studied Philosophy if he’d gone to college instead of joining the military, he feels like there’s a dreamer quality to Dave

- Even though Dave was pressured into joining the military, he thinks that Dave believed he was going the right thing by enlisting

- Colm is a Canadian Hall of Fame actor and Reginald is such an intense character so Cody would love to do a scene with him. He would also love to do a scene with Elliot.

- Cody remembered waiting on set to film the scene in the club and he, Rob and Tom were in an 80s hotel with a heart shaped jacuzzi (??? oh was this the set with the Handler and Agnes maybe?)

[purplecatdad]

Of Bears and Friends (RDR Reverse Bang)

Written for the @rdrbigbang reverse bang for the wonderful picture of @mgcoco

| Arthur/Albert | General Audience | Fluff | Read it on AO3 |

Arthur sighed as he closed his journal. He had just finished up the sketch of their new camp at Clemens point as he reminisced about the things that had happened. 

Colm had attacked them, right in the middle of the little town of Valentine. That bastard had taken John (and Strauss, but Arthur wasn’t very fond of the feller), and had threatened to shoot him right in front of them. Gladly both him and Dutch were skilled enough with their guns to get the situation under control, even when they were heavily outnumbered. 

Arthur still had been worried about John for a moment, even if he’d never admit that to the other man. He’d become like a brother to him and he’d never forgive himself if he had been too slow to protect Jack from losing his father or Abigail her husband. 

He lit himself a cigarette after his journal was safely stored away in his satchel again and took a long drag, feeling his lungs filling up with the smoke before he breathed out again. He still had to sell that gold bar that he had gotten from that weird German guy. Arthur had thought about just donating it to the camp funds for others to take care of the selling, but right now he felt like taking a break anyway.

Cigarette dangling between his lips he got up, stretched until his bones cracked and shouldered his satchel.He didn’t plan to stay away too long but he knew that sometimes things went differently than you plan them and so he packed up some cans of beans from Pearson’s wagon. He was usually good at hunting his food but sometimes it was nice to just heat up a can instead of crouching in the bushes. 

“I’ll be gone for a bit. Maybe a week or two,” he announced to Dutch, who rested in his little tent, the gramophone blasting some random tune that Arthur had heard one too many times before. 

“Alright. Be safe, son. And better come back with a good lead or two,” the gang leader responded and Arthur just tipped his hat in response. He wouldn’t promise anything but of course he’d keep his ears open and his mind sharp. Life as an outlaw had taught him that there was money to be made at every corner and that one shouldn’t miss out on the opportunity. 

He tacked up the Black Shire he had named Thor, packed his bedroll and some more supplies to make camp before heading out. Firstly he would make his way up north. He had discovered this little, almost dead town called Van Horn before and knew that he’d make good money with the gold bar there. He also realized that it had been a while now since he’d last visited the widow Charlotte who lived up north the Roanoke. He decided to pay her a visit as well, just to make sure that she was alright and skilled enough to take care of herself. 

The sun was still rising as he made his way out of camp, setting a steady pace but making sure not to push his horse too hard. Arthur loved riding fast but it had cost him too many good horses when he was still young. He had learned when it was time to push them and when it was better to let them choose their own pace. 

"You‘re a good boy,“ he praised the stallion as he patted his neck. Back at Horseshoe Overlook, Thor had been quite the brute. One time he had even kicked him hard enough for Arthur to land on his ass. He had thought about selling him when Hosea told him to but something had told Arthur that he should keep his horse. He still missed Boadicea and longed for a horse that he could rely on. The Shire didn‘t seem to be that kind of horse at first but Arthur found him far too beautiful to just give him away to end up in front of some poor farmer‘s wagon. 

He had taken Thor out with him into the Heartlands, naming him after the god of Thunder as the sounds his hooves made when galloping over the endless meadows. It had taken them a while to properly get along, to train him to come when he whistled and to follow up. After two weeks of back and forth between them, Arthur knew that he could rely on Thor, though. Some daring Bounty Hunters had been chasing him, nearly getting him by ambushing him as he was making camp. But Thor didn’t let them. He had kicked them right off of their horses and stomped one of them to death as Arthur had shot the other. 

Since then, they had only been separated whenever he had been at camp or sleeping in a hotel rather than on his bedroll.

His first few hours of travelling were calm and uneventful. The people he passed didn‘t seem interested in him and he also wasn’t interested in them as none of them looked like they were carrying great amounts of cash. He knew that there weren‘t many rich folk up Roanoke Ridge so he hadn‘t expected it anyway. 

As he had passed the swampy area around Lagras the ground became more firm again and the road was taking him through the forest. Arthur felt better here, without the high humidity, surrounded by trees. He generally enjoyed being in nature, especially if it was the forest or the desert … but he hated the cold that they had in Colter as much as the warm and humid air around Lagras. He took a deep breath to enjoy the scent of the trees around him when he heard a familiar voice mumbling. 

"Where are they … I‘m sure they must be some somewhere here …,“ Arthur brought Thor to a halt and looked around the trees until he spotted the man with his camera. A smile spread over his lips as he watched him searching for something. Albert Mason was a strange man but he had actually become a good friend of his during the last few weeks. He had met him several times before, trying to photograph wolves, horses, and alligators. Albert seemed to be that rare kind of person who was born into wealth and still seeked out the adventurous outdoors - without being disgusted by its reality. Arthur still remembered that “gentleman” he had met on his way to Strawberry who had demanded to get a ride into the town while constantly complaining about it. It had annoyed Arthur immensely, so much that a part of him had actually thought about just robbing that man blind and leaving him behind. But Albert was different. He saw the beauty in nature, saw the dangers that lay in it, but also the wonders. And that was why he had started taking his photographs - and why Arthur thought of him as a friend. 

“Did ya lose something’?” Arthur called over to Albert who jumped and almost threw over his camera. He looked around until he saw Arthur and a wide smile appeared on his face. 

“Mr. Morgan!” the photographer exclaimed as he walked up to him and Arthur got down from his horse. “It’s good to see you again. Have you been well?”

Arthur thought about the shootout in Valentine and the German family that he had rescued from the O’Driscolls. “Hmm, mostly,” he mused with a faint smile on his lips and lit himself a cigarette. “So, whatcha lookin’ for?” 

“Oh, uh …”, Albert seemed to need a moment to remember what he had been doing. “I was looking for bears. I’ve actually found quite a few black bears already but I’d like something more …” he seemed to be at a loss of words and just waved around to indicate something big. 

“More … impressive?” Arthur suggested.

“Impressive, yes! They are pretty alright but something like … like a grizzly! That might be a great motive for a picture!”  

“A grizzly?” Arthur barked out a laugh in disbelief and shook his head. “You really do wanna die taking pictures, don’t cha?”

Albert chuckled at that and it almost sounded a little nervous. “Well, now that you’ve stumbled upon me … Maybe you want to make sure I don’t just yet?” 

Arthur looked back at him. “Ya know that we’d better head up to the Grizzlies for that, yeah? Ain’t many grizzlies around here. And I first gotta get some business done in Van Horn and then go visit a friend up at Brandywine Drop …” He wasn’t sure if Albert would be up for so much travelling but having some company actually sounded kind of nice. 

“Oh, if you don’t mind me traveling with you I’d love to join you on the road. I’m sure there will be some more opportunities for me to take pictures on the way.” Albert seemed to be delighted about the prospect of traveling alongside him and Arthur wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. What if Albert would realise what kind of person he actually was and decide that he wasn’t a person he wanted to keep around anymore? What if he himself got annoyed at him? What if … but Arthur stopped his thoughts, took a last long drag from his cigarette and flicked it away.

“Alright then … do you … have a horse?” Arthur had realized that he had never actually seen him traveling around and looked around until he saw a small Criollo hitched to a nearby tree who looked over at them like it was aware of him asking for it. 

“That’s Daisy,” Albert said as he followed Arthur’s gaze on the horse. “She might be small but she is very reliable. Has never let me down so far.”

Arthur walked up to the little horse and offered his hand for her to sniff. Her fur looked like red and grey marble, her mane a dark brown. She gently nudged his hand as if asking for treats and Arthur chuckled low in his throat. “She’s quite the sweetheart, ain’t she?” 

After Albert had packed up his camera, eager to get moving to find some grizzlies up north they crossed the Kamassa River. It already started to get dark, the sun slowly setting over the horizon in the distance. It would have been possible to get to Van Horn and rent out a room somewhere there but considering the state of the town, Arthur preferred to make camp before heading in there. 

“You know, we actually should make camp somewhere. I’ll hunt us something. You can …,” he hesitated, not sure about Albert’s survival skills. “Can you make a campfire?” 

Albert looked up at him from Daisy’s back. “I, uh … can certainly try.”

Arthur sighed at that, only now realizing that he would have to do the muscle work on this trip. “How did you survive in the wild up until now?” 

“Well, I was always staying over in Hotels, mostly. But I’d happily learn a thing or two from you.”

“There’s an old fort close by … if there’s nobody else right now we can use it as a camp for the night,” Arthur suggested and Albert’s face lit up. 

“An old fort? Oh, how exciting!” 

They headed over there, Arthur holding the big doors to the fort open while Albert rode past him inside it. Luckily there was an old, abandoned campfire right next to a small hut within the fort that Arthur brought back to life with some matches and dry twigs that were lying around. 

“You can find some more wood and add to it so it’ll last us overnight. I’ll be back in a bit, there are plenty of turkeys and rabbits here,” Arthur announced and left the fort after Albert nodded. 

After their time in Colter, Arthur actually preferred to hunt on foot with his bow and arrow, at least when it came to harmless animals like deer or rabbits. He had become good at it, thanks to practising it a lot with Charles, but not good enough to guarantee him a kill on attacking wolves or cougars. 

He went into the nearest line of trees and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light there before he looked around for animal tracks. Arthur heard a turkey’s gobble coming somewhere from his right side and ducked down so he wouldn’t get their attention. There was a small group of four of them, so he had a good chance of getting at least one. 

He slowly got closer to them, raising his bow with an arrow ready when he was in shooting range. He was a good sharp shooter but he still needed a little more time to prepare for a shot with the bow. Arthur breathed in, pulling the bow back at the same time and released it as he breathed out again. The arrow hit the turkey at the base of the neck and it fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The others ran off immediately and Arthur went to collect his prey. 

When he got back to the fort, roughly ten minutes after he had left, Albert was gone. Sure, he had told him to collect firewood but Arthur hadn’t seen him around the fort as well and he wasn’t anywhere near the line of trees. He dropped the turkey on the floor, worried that something had happened to his travel companion. 

“Mr. Mason?!” he called out, looking around the fort for a hint where the photographer could’ve vanished too. Both Daisy and Thor, who were hitched at the corner of the fort, looked at him like he was disturbing their peaceful evening. Arthur cursed under his breath, hoping that his friend hadn’t been taken by some ill meaning asshole. 

There weren’t really any tracks on the ground that he could make out as it hadn’t rained in a while. He noticed that Albert had left his equipment at their little campsite though so he figured that he was either still closeby or that somebody had taken him. 

“Mr. Morgan! I’m down here!” He heard a voice calling from … somewhere. He approached the little cabin that was still somewhat standing and looked inside. There was no trace of Albert still but he was certain that it had come from this direction. He walked into the dark room, holes in the wall and the ceiling shining dim light into it. Soon it would be too dark to see here. He made out a ladder that led downwards and peeked inside, noticing a shadow and a dim light.

“Mr. Mason?” he asked again and got a “you should come down here, Mr. Morgan. Check it out!” Arthur sighed and climbed down into the basement, wondering if the building would collapse and bury them underneath and if whatever was down there was actually worth it. When he turned around, there was a dagger directly pointing at his nose. 

“This must be the last few remnants from the war!” Arthur took a step to the side and gently removed the knife from Alberts grip. It was big, like an actual hunting knife. There were traces of blood on the blade, long dried out, the victim probably dead for decades by now.

“That’s a pretty knife alright. You want to keep it? I’ve got my hunting knife but this might come in handy for you some time.” “But .. it belonged to someone!” Albert seemed shocked that Arthur suggested to him to just take it and the outlaw was reminded that not everyone grew up just taking what they needed. Arthur shrugged and stored the knife in the sheath of his hunting knife. 

“He ain’t gonna need it no more. But I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” He might as well just sell it at the fence, along with the gold bar he had found. 

“I also found this …” Albert noted and held up a cigarette card of a black panther. “Isn’t it a fine specimen? Oh, I’d LOVE to take a picture of one some time!” 

Arthur chuckled gently, shaking his head along with his. “You really wanna die, don’t cha?” 

A few minutes later Arthur was finally settled around the fire, strips of turkey meat roasting above it and an opened can of beans slowly warming up right next to it. Albert had excused himself to take some pictures of the fort from the outside and left him alone for a bit. 

Arthur looked up to the stars and enjoyed the silence for a moment. This was what he had longed for when he had left camp. To not be surrounded by nearly thirty people, all chatting and babbling, everybody wanting something from him or expecting him to bring in money. He didn’t mind helping people and he loved the gang like a family. But sometimes it all got too much. Sometimes he just wanted to travel, see the world and enjoy nature. Sometimes he didn’t want to be the great enforcer of the Van der Linde Gang. Sometimes he was content with just being Arthur. A wandering soul, ever moving, traveling to wherever his horse carried him. 

“This really is a lot more … rustic than I am used to.” He heard Albert’s voice coming from the side and was suddenly pulled out from his thoughts. For a moment he had forgotten that he wasn’t completely alone. “But this is very exciting! I’ve always wanted to sleep outside when I was a little boy. Never gotten around to actually doing it.”

Arthur blinked at Albert who settled down on the floor next to him, the camera neatly packed away again. “You’ve never slept outside?” It seemed so strange to him, like a completely different world. 

“Well, I grew up in the city. There weren’t any good spots to sleep outside in New York, Mr. Morgan. And as I said, so far I’ve usually slept in hotels. I’m glad to have this opportunity now, I hope to venture even further out west some time but I’m certain I’ll need more uh ... outdoor skills for that.” 

He wondered if the photographer had any idea about how dangerous the west really could be. “The west ain’t a place for city folk, Mr. Mason. Especially not if they’re all on their own.” Of course, it would be Alberts decision alone but Arthur really didn’t want him to get hurt because he was foolish enough to venture out alone. “Better get yourself someone who knows their way around and who you can trust.” 

“What about you, then, Mr. Morgan? Would you like to join me some time?” 

“Join you? Out west?” Arthur hadn’t expected Albert to just offer it like that... or to be quite so serious about it all. 

“Yes. You obviously know your way around, and I like your company. Of course, I can pay you for your time and the protection as well! I imagine it must be quite the trip there. As long as you don’t have any responsibilities here … I mean … I don’t really know how involved you are around here, of course. It just seemed to be like you’re … well, you seem to be quite a free spirit, in a sense...”  

Albert was babbling again, like he sometimes did. But Arthur didn’t mind it, it gave him time to think about the offer. What if he took it? Earning some honest money for a change and still doing things that he loved sounded good. But he knew he couldn’t just leave the gang behind. He wasn’t John who just left for a whole year or Trewlawny who didn’t even stay with them most of the time. He belonged in camp. What if something happened when he was away for multiple weeks, maybe even months? 

“I’ll think about that offer. Let’s first see how we’ll get along on this trip, shall we?”, He suggested. So far they had only ever spent an afternoon together. Maybe they wouldn’t even get along if they’d be around each other for longer. Arthur knew that he could tolerate a lot - after all, he was in a gang with Sean MacGuire for several years now and had only almost strangled him once - but he wasn’t sure if Albert would still like him if he got to know the real Arthur Morgan. Outlaw, killer, bastard. Nobody a proper man like Albert would usually keep around.  

“Yes, you might be right. But I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. So, my good Sir, what will we have for dinner, if I may ask?” Albert asked, his tone shifted from his usually happy babbling to something that resembled a fine gentleman in an even finer establishment. It made Arthur chuckle and forget his grim thoughts for a moment. Maybe Albert really could stay his friend. 

The night had been uneventful and calm, just like Arthur had hoped. After they had eaten the turkey with the beans, Albert had shared his last bit of chocolate with him. There had been some smalltalk, mostly Albert telling him about places he had been before and places he still wanted to see. All those that Arthur had never seen and probably never would. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia. Crowded places that he’d rather avoid. 

They had packed up their things after a quick breakfast with coffee, leftover meat and a shared bread roll, saddled their horses and made their way up to Van Horn. 

“So, what’s that town like? Van Horn, you said? I’ve never heard of it,” Albert asked him as they were moving along the path. 

“It’s a shithole, really,” Arthur explained as he lit himself a cigarette. “Not many people left there aside from some whores, gamblers, and alcoholics. Ain’t sure what happened to the town but it died out at some point and now there’s just the scum left.”

“Oh…” Albert didn’t seem to have expected that kind of answer. “So, what are you doing there?” 

“Well, a German fella that I’ve helped get rid of some … nasty folk .. he paid me with a damn gold bar. And I know I can sell those to a gentleman in town.” 

“Oh, there's a bullion dealer in town?” 

“Something like that, yeah.” It wasn’t exactly the truth but Arthur didn’t want to elaborate any further right now. 

They rode in silence for a while, occasionally stopping when Albert found something he wanted to photograph. 

The first thing they saw was the lighthouse of Van Horn. Once built to guide ships at the broad Lannahechee River it now started to rot away since it got neglected by the townsfolk. Arthur suspected that they simply ran out of funding. Most ships would probably rather find a harbour in Saint Denis down south, with more people being able to board in such a big city and more trades to me made with the large warehouses. He had seen plenty of towns like Van Horn in his life. Promising little settlements who had died out for various reasons. Bad investments, too many outlaws passing through and robbing the place, illnesses and sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes, like here, there was still business to be made but other times it was best to just stay away. 

He noticed that Albert had grown more quiet since they had passed the last road bend. Arthur suspected that he was a little shocked due to the state of the town, despite Arthur warning him beforehand. He wondered if it was Albert’s first time in a place like this. 

“Don’t worry, we ain’t gonna stay long. Just stay close to me and don’t talk to anybody,” Arthur assured him and he felt Albert’s gaze on him for a moment. 

They rode past the fallen down houses and the saloon. He could see some lonely patrons in there, those who probably hadn’t left during the night and were still there in the late morning, slowly waking up to start drinking again as they had nothing left anymore. Arthur averted his eyes, painfully reminded of his own father. Sometimes he had waited for him in their shabby room right down the street from the saloon. Lyle had often promised him to come back with money that he’d win gambling but Arthur had to learn early that it were mostly empty promises, the money oftentimes just spent on liquor and women while he had waited at home with a hole in his stomach. 

Some women who stood next to the remains of the hotel looked at them with hope in their eyes for a moment, probably hoping for some money from lonesome travelers who wanted to let off some steam but they soon realized that Arthur and his companion were just passing through the town. 

He stopped next to the old post office, telling Albert to wait while he was doing his business. Arthur hitched Thor to a nearby post and walked up to the building in which he knew the fence did his business. It didn’t feel right leaving Albert behind in such a place and the photographer did look a little lost but he preferred it like that. He didn’t only have the gold bar with him but also a few pocket watches and belt buckles that he had taken from some unfortunate souls on the streets. He didn’t want Albert to just see it if there was no need to. 

“I’ll give you 550$ for that,” the fence said after Arthur had put all of the items, including the old knife he had found, on his table. 

“50$ more and we got ourselves a deal,” Arthur responded. He wouldn’t let the fence cheap out of this. 

“560$, last offer.”

He took out his gun and held it up to the fence's face. “600$, or I’ll take the money and the merchandise. We both know there’s no law around to help you.”

The fence stared at the gun for a second, then nodded shortly. “Alright. 600$. I don’t want any trouble here.”

“No trouble at all,” Arthur agreed with a content smirk and holstered his gun again before he grabbed the money that was offered and stashed it away in his satchel. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” He tipped his hat and left the small warehouse before heading back to Albert. Arthur lit himself another cigarette, glad that he turned the gold into some money now. He frowned as he saw Albert in the distance who was being surrounded by some women who seemed to be a little too interested in him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur heard one of them say as he got closer. “I’ll give you the time of your life. Just two dollars, you won't regret it, I promise.”

Albert’s face was red as a tomato, stammering something unintelligible and raising his hands in defense. It seemed like this was his first time being approached by prostitutes desperate for money and so Arthur walked up to them to rescue him out of that situation. 

“Leave him alone,” he snarled. “There’s cheaper ways to catch syphilis. Get lost!”

“That’s rude of you, Mister!” One of the prostitutes said but she also scuttered off like the rest of them when Arthur placed a hand on his gun and said “I ain’t gonna ask again.”

Arthur unhitched Thunder and jumped up on his back again as Albert collected himself. “You alright, Mr. Mason? They’re a little obtrusive here sometimes.”

“Y-yes .. I’m okay. Thank you.”

They headed out of the city again, up North and following the Lannahechee River that was glistening from the sun standing high in the sky. Arthur knew that there were lots of mean folk around here but he still loved the area for it’s lush greens. They rode in silence for a bit, sharing the occasional oatcakes and Albert stopping to take pictures now and again. It was a calm, beautiful day and Arthur enjoyed the ride a lot, even with Albert babbling about some rare species of bird that was rumoured to be seen around here. His babbling was simply different from the buzzing in camp. He didn’t expect anything from him and instead of complaining about too many chores or not enough money, Albert just seemed to be … excited about the things he saw. 

In the beginning, Arthur had found it childish for a grown man to get so excited about animals or nature's beauty. It reminded him of Jack who sometimes got all happy about dandelion seeds in the wind, even if it was such a mundane thing. After meeting Albert multiple times though and getting to know him a little better he found it endearing. It was contagious to see him all excited and Arthur had often caught himself smiling about the same things and always ended up sketching the animals that Albert had taken pictures of. Nature was beautiful, after all. And Albert had reminded him of that. 

“Not long until we’ll reach Annesburg,” Arthur started after a couple of hours of riding. “Should we rent a room there to spend the night?” 

Arthur noticed Albert blushing for a second and wondered why but before he had the chance to come to a conclusion the other man responded. “Ah, I enjoyed camping out with you far too much to get back to the confines of a hotel room just yet. If you don’t mind.”  

Arthur chuckled at that, amused that Albert seemed to have found some joy in staying outside now. Unusual for a city boy like him, he mused. “Sure, we can. I’d say we look for a good spot after we passed Annesburg then. Have you been there before?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t been, no.”

“It’s a mining town, air’s awfully dirty there. But you’ll see it soon.” 

Arthur chose the path that wouldn’t lead them directly through the city but rather around it. He wasn’t in the mood to pass through the town, not long ago he had a little argument with the Sheriff because he had accidentally run over a miner. The man had been fine and so Arthur had refused to see it as a crime. He didn’t want Albert to get mingled in that if the Sheriff saw him again and decided that it was a day of justice to be served.

As they got closer to the city, the air started to taste of smoke and stone. It was a strange thing that Arthur had never experienced before and while he was an avid smoker, this just didn’t seem right to him. It got harder to see into the distance as well. 

“I see now what you mean, Mr. Morgan,” Albert said as they approached the town. “It really is awfully dirty.” They passed the entry of the mine above the town and both of them shortly looked at the men walking past them and towards the mines. Their faces and clothes black with the dirt, their expressions tired and bodies hunched over from the hard work. 

“Oh, what an awful job this must be …,” Albert mused and Arthur hummed in agreement. “Not seeing the sun, always in danger of being buried alive … There must be better ways to earn a living.”

“Some ain’t got no choice, Mr. Mason. And this is what civilization does to us - we got bad air and awful jobs.” It was the reason he preferred to be out west. The air was clean and there were less people. Less big towns, less crowd … and less law to get in trouble with. 

“Well, it also gives us modern technology and science!” Albert exclaimed, patting his camera equipment that was strapped to his horse’s saddle. “I wouldn’t be able to do my job without it.”

Arthur thought about it for a moment. Yes, he enjoyed the photographs that Albert had shown him so far and their little adventures together but was it really worth all the hassle of civilisation? “I think I’d much rather miss out on some pretty pictures if that means I can stay away from cities. They’ve never done me any good. But I get that they’re important to you.” 

There was a soft smile on Albert’s face on that and Arthur wondered if the other man could even understand him all that well as someone who was born and raised in the city. There was no way he could understand what it meant to always roam free and to do what you want. “Maybe you’re right, Mr. Morgan. Maybe there really are things that are more important than pretty pictures.” 

After a little while they passed a cabin on the road. It was painted red and Arthur remembered that he had looked through the place before. Nobody had been home back then and there actually hadn’t been all that much to take. It seemed like there still was nobody at home and Arthur wondered if the place might be deserted for good now. He figured that it would be a bad idea to check again, just in case somebody would come home and Albert was still around. So they just passed it by and moved to a small incline behind it. 

“This should be a good place to stay for the night,” Arthur decided as the sun set on the horizon. “Brought some salted meat with me, we can eat that tonight so I won’t have to hunt.” 

Albert agreed and together they set up a tent. Last night they had slept within the confines of the old fort but tonight they weren’t protected by any walls. Albert really had two left hands when it came to setting up the tent so Arthur just told him to tend to the fire while he set it all up. He spread their bedrolls within the tent and realized that there really wouldn’t be much space between them. Arthur wondered if it would make Albert uncomfortable or not, he probably wasn’t used to sharing his breath with another man at night so he started to remove his own bedroll from the tent again, intending to sleep out next to the fire instead. 

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to sleep in the tent?” Albert asked him with big eyes.

“Well, there ain’t much space in there, Mr. Mason. No need to make you uncomfortable. I can sleep outside just fine.”

“Make me uncomfortable? Oh, now don’t be silly Mr. Morgan. It is your tent we will be sleeping in and it’s supposed to get plenty cold tonight. If anybody should sleep outside, it would be me. However, I wouldn’t mind sleeping right next to you, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.”

He hadn’t expected Albert to be so assertive about it and stopped in his tracks, musing over the words for a moment. Albert was right, it was supposed to get cold tonight with the sky as clear as it was and if it really didn’t bother him Arthur would very much prefer to sleep in a tent tonight. 

“If you’re sure ‘bout it…”

“I am, don’t you worry about that. I don’t just say things that I don’t mean.”

Arthur gave him a small smile at that and nodded. He turned around and unrolled the bedroll in the tent again, preparing their bed for the night before he settled in around the fire next to Albert. Tonight he heated up some canned peas that he served Albert and himself with a piece of bread and the salted meat. It wasn’t fine cuisine but he somehow always enjoyed these thrown together meals at the beginning of a trip when he still had some provisions to choose from. 

“So, how did you meet this lady that we’re visiting?” Albert asked him halfway through their shared meal. 

“Uh, well…,” it had been a tip from a guy he had freed from a prison wagon. A lone lady in a little cabin, rich apparently and an easy way to make money. After Arthur had met her he had refused to take her money, though. “Met her when I was passing by, heard her crying ‘bout her husband. Showed her how to hunt. She was more city folk before, much like you.” 

“You really like helping people, don’t you?” Albert said with a smile on her face, munching on some of the peas. “I like that about you, you know?” 

Arthur hadn’t expected to get a compliment, he cleared his throat and looked down onto his plate, unsure what to respond for a moment. “Well, can’t just let her starve just after losing her husband, can I? She wanted to create a new life for her so … I helped her achieve that. Was mostly her doing.” 

“I’m curious to meet her. She sounds like a very interesting person.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. And afterwards, we can find a grizzly for you. Might even see a cub or two, it’s the season for ‘em right now. Just gotta be careful around them, the mothers don’t like people ‘round them.” 

Albert’s eyes lit up at that. “Oh, cubs would be so wonderful! I’m sure seeing them would help people see that they need to be protected.” 

He chuckled at that. Albert’s reason for taking pictures really was a noble one. But he wasn’t sure if he could reach that goal, especially with so many people each day being attacked and killed by wild predators that roamed America.

 “Maybe, yes. But remember that they are still dangerous, much like their mommas.” 

“Of course! But I also have you with me to protect me, don’t I, Mr. Morgan? “Sure you do.”

They finished their dinner, easing into some conversations about nothing in particular, sharing a bottle of whiskey and some cigarettes until Albert announced that he was tired and lay down in the tent. 

Arthur got out his journal, sketching their little campsite before he wrote down a few sentences about their adventure so far. 

Met this photographer again on the road. Decided to travel with him for a bit. Guy wants to see some grizzlies so I’ll take him to see one. First we’ll see Charlotte again though. Will see how she is holding up. 

He followed Albert into the tent after he had fed the fire one last time and tucked away his journal into his satchel again. The other man was already sound asleep, snoring very softly and his mouth hanging open a little. 

Arthur entered carefully, trying not to wake the other man as he lay down on his bedroll. He sat down his hat next to himself, stretched and yawned before he turned onto his side to sleep. Albert shuffled a little next to him, mumbling something in his sleep and moved up to him. Arthur felt the heat of the other man’s body getting closer and for a moment he thought about waking him or shoving him away. Instead, he sighed and just relaxed as he enjoyed the presence of another person sleeping so close to him. Just a few minutes later he drifted off to sleep, tired from the long journey during the day. 

When he woke up he felt the cold at the tip of his nose and gently rubbed it to warm it up. He frowned when he noticed that Albert had already gotten up and looked out of the tent to see if he was sitting at the fire but there was nobody to be seen. The fire didn’t even look like it had been tended to at all. 

He got up, stretching and popping his bones to wake and warm up a little. Albert was still nowhere to be seen but he figured that the man probably just went to do his business in peace. He sat down by the fire to bring it back to life and to make some coffee. A lit cigarette dangling from his lips he opened up a can of baked beans to heat up as well. When he was alone on the road he usually just had a cigarette and maybe some coffee to wake up in the morning but Albert had told him that he was used to a proper breakfast in the morning so he figured he could take care of that while the photographer was still busy. 

Arthur started to get worried when he had finished his cigarette and Albert still hadn’t shown up again. He got up and looked for traces of him. The bag with his camera equipment was missing but his horse - and all the other valuable things they had -  was still around so Arthur figured that they hadn’t been robbed during the night. He guessed that Albert probably had seen a pretty squirrel and just wandered off.

“What a fool,” Arthur murmured, shaking his head as he started to follow what he suspected were the other man’s footprints.

The track led him down the incline they had been camping on and towards the path that they would continue their travels on. And there he saw Albert standing, fumbling with the settings of his camera. 

“Morning, Mr. Mason,” Arthur said, loud enough to startle Albert and make him jump.

The photographer turned around to him, his chuckle sounding a little nervous after he got scared. 

“Good morning to you as well! I’ve just ah- I wanted to capture the beautiful sunrise over the river, you know? Didn’t want to wake you up.”

Arthur followed his gaze towards the river. The sun has already risen by now but the sky was still painted in pretty colours with the river glistening in the early light. Albert was right, it was a beautiful view and Arthur had a hard time to blame him. “Could’ve still woken me up, wasn’t sure where you had gone, just like that.” 

Albert seemed to be surprised about that and blinked at him for a moment. “Oh, I … didn’t think you’d be that worried about me, Mr. Morgan. Otherwise I would’ve- “ “No, no. It’s alright,” Arthur assured him and realized that it probably had been a little stupid of him to just assume the worst, especially because Albert was a grown man, after all.

After a quick breakfast they went on their way again, following the Roanoke Ridge up North. Most words between them had been spoken, so they rode in a comfortable silence, just broken once or twice when Albert pointed out a pretty tree or animal to him. Arthur usually had seen them before and if he had been alone he might’ve stopped to sketch it as well but he just wasn’t used to people he traveled with caring about the marvels of the world. 

They rested at one particular interesting tree that both of them found fascinating and while Albert set up his camera to take a picture of it, Arthur got out his journal and sketched it as well. It didn’t take long for Albert to notice the Journal and what Arthur was doing. After he w3as content with the pictures he had taken, he walked over to Arthur and asked him to have a look at his drawing. 

“It ain’t much, Mr. Mason…”

“Just let me have a look, Mr. Morgan … I really do enjoy art and I’m sure it’s wonderful.” 

With a sigh Arthur presented the journal to Albert who suddenly made surprised sound. “Oh, that IS wonderful, Mr. Morgan! You’ve captured it so well!”

Arthur felt himself blush. He wasn’t used to getting compliments like this and he felt a bit embarrassed to be praised like that for a simple sketch of a tree. “Well .. thank you. It really ain’t special, though.”

“Oh, it absolutely is. I wouldn’t be able to draw such a thing. Now, take the compliment and leave it at that, yes?”

Arthur shook his head in amusement. Albert really was a special kind of person. “Sure thing, Mr. Mason.” 

   Eventually they reached the little cabin that Arthur probably would have never found out about if it hadn’t been for the tip he had gotten. Instead of robbing the place, he had found a friend there. Someone to visit whenever he needed a break from the gang. Someone much like Albert. 

He led Albert up the path and dismounted the horse after he passed the little entryway. Charlotte had started to try and make something of the little garden and had also fixed up the fence. He wondered if she would follow her advice and get some goats for milk and meat, just to help her when hunting didn’t go well. They hitched their horses and as Arthur turned around he saw Charlotte leaving her cabin. She stopped in her tracks, probably surprised to see two horses on her property. But her face lit up as she saw him and Arthur smiled right back to her, equally happy to see her. 

“Arthur!” she called over and dropped the basket she had been carrying onto the chair on her porch. Charlotte approached them and Arthur was happy to see that she really looked well now. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were bright and she looked like she was back to a healthy weight again. “It’s good to see you here. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Albert Mason. Him an’ me are traveling up to the grizzlies to see some bears,” he explained to her. Charlotte’s face darkened in worry and Arthur, the fool that he was, suddenly remembered how Cal had died. 

“Oh, just to take some pictures of them,” Albert chimed in cheerfully. “You see, Ma’am, I’m a nature photographer and I’d like to capture the beauty of the American wildlife. So this isn’t going to be a bear hunt or anything like that.”

“Well, I hope that you stay safe…,” Charlotte said in a low voice while mostly looking at Arthur. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. But .. how can I help you?”

“I was actually on my way to check on you when I met Mr. Mason here, so … I suggested we make a break here first before heading West. If you don’t mind. Otherwise we can be on our way again, of course.” 

“No, of course I don’t mind. It’s nice to have visitors, it tends to get a little lonely here sometimes. Feel free to come in … I even got some stew on the stove that I wanted to eat after the laundry. But that can wait, I’m not the biggest fan of washing anyway,” she admitted with a cheeky smile.

As they entered the cabin Arthur noticed a stretched out grey tabby cat right next to the fireplace. It rolled around, got up and stretched before lazily walking up to Charlotte. “Did you wake up from your nap already?” Charlotte asked and picked up the cat before she kissed its head. “This is Artemis. She helps me with the rats and I share my fish with her. If I manage to catch one, that is…” The cat started to struggle a little so he let her go again. Artemis landed on her paws rather gracefully. She ignored the men in the house and sat down on a pillow that was placed in front of the fireplace. “I’ve always wanted a cat but Cal didn’t really get along with them. He also always had to sneeze and got watery eyes when he was near them, weirdly enough… I found this one a few weeks ago and she’s really great company.”  

“Well, I’m glad that she’s keeping you company,” Arthur said and pulled his gaze away from the cat who had started to stare him down like they were having a staring contest. He had never understood cats very well and usually preferred dogs over them. But he wasn’t there to judge Charlotte’s choice in pets. 

They settled around the table in the middle of the room and Charlotte got out some bowls and spoons for them. “So, how have you been, Arthur?” she asked him and gave him a small smile before she got the pot down from the stove. 

“Ah, it’s been a few busy weeks. I’m glad that I’ve got some free time to spend now. Just wandering ‘round a bit, seeing some folk.“

"You know, you‘ve never actually told me what kind of work you‘re doing,“ Charlotte mused as she served all of them a steaming hot bowl of stew. "Very few jobs offer this kind of freedom.“

Arthur had already wondered if she‘d ever ask him this question. Maybe, he had thought, she had already guessed it. Maybe she had been avoiding the question on purpose, afraid of what the answer might be. Albert also looked at him expectantly now, curious probably what kind of man he was travelling with now that it was brought up.

"I just … do some odd jobs here 'n there. Whatever brings in some money, really. So between jobs, I like to travel a bit. Means I see more than just one place of the world.“ It was the truth, even if not all of it, but it seemed to be enough for them for now. Arthur knew that even those folk who stayed on the legal path oftentimes went from job to job. It wasn‘t unusual to just go where the money was, after all. 

"Oh, that sounds so adventurous!“ Charlotte exclaimed. "You must tell me a story or two sometimes, maybe I can put something of it into my writing.“

Albert smiled at that, curious now about Charlotte as well. "Oh, you‘re an author?“

"Well, I try to be. I haven‘t published much, just a short story or two in the newspaper in Chicago. But I‘m working on my first book now and it‘s going well. It‘s like the muse has kissed me after Arthur came to my rescue.“

"He really has a habit of doing that, doesn‘t he?“ Albert said and chuckled softly.

Arthur cleared his throat and shook his head, focusing on his stew. He wasn‘t quite used to people talking like that about him. If he was praised, it usually was for his strong fists in people‘s faces or his ability to shoot someone in the head from 200 feet away. 

Albert and Charlotte eased into a conversation about Chicago and other bigger cities that they visited. Arthur had never been to any of those but to him it seemed horrible. Bigger cities like Saint Denis? That seemed like outright torture to him. More civilisation, more law, more rules to follow. No, he was content being out in the wild. And he now understood even better why both Albert and Charlotte chose to flee from all of that and built new lifes out here. Nature gave them room to breathe and to live and to just be, whereas the city restricted them.

After dinner they played a few rounds of poker. Albert had a horrible poker face and was easy to beat but Arthur was surprised to learn that Charlotte was actually really good at it. She ended up winning almost all rounds they played and smiled brightly as she stashed away the money that she won. 

"I‘ve used to play a lot with my sisters and we all had to have a good poker face for when we had some higher up guests join us for dinner,“ she explained. "But it was fun to play with you.“

It was time to sleep afterwards, and while Charlotte had a spare room in her house she only had one bed to sleep on. "'s alright, I‘ll sleep here on a bedroll.“ Arthur assured Albert after he offered to sleep on the floor multiple times. "I‘m more used to it than you, don‘t worry 'bout it.“ 

They settled in for the night and after being woken up by a purring cat who shoved her butt into Arthur‘s face twice before settling down and rolling up on his butt Arthur actually had a pretty good night‘s sleep. He was used to sleeping outside, with and without a tent, but sometimes he actually enjoyed having a real fireplace nearby and a roof above his head. 

He was up early in the morning, before Charlotte or Albert had gotten out of their rooms, so he decided to brew up some coffee for them. Charlotte actually had one of the better brands, one that he‘d probably never buy for himself, even if he loved his coffee in the morning. It was simply not a luxury that made sense when you have to feed over twenty people in a camp. He also found some eggs that he cracked open and scrambled in a pan, roasting some bread along with it. The sizzling seemed to have woken up the other people in the cabin, both Albert and Charlotte got out of their rooms shortly before the eggs were fully cooked. 

It was a peaceful, quiet moment, both of them thanking him for the coffee and sitting down on the table for breakfast. Sometimes Arthur wondered what life would be like, in a place like this. Away from society but still living in a home. A place to make his own, with people to love and care about. He loved the gang, of course, but he couldn‘t call them a family. At least not all of them and not with the way they were living right now. Always fighting, always on the run. What kind of man would he become if he had a cabin like this? If he didn‘t have to fight just to survive? If he wasn‘t wanted with a bounty that could probably feed him for a whole year? 

“So, you’ll be heading out again today?” Charlotte asked and interrupted his thoughts with that. 

He blinked for a moment to process her words, then nodded as he put bread and eggs on each of their plates. “Yeah. Don’t wanna bother ya for too long.” “Oh, don’t worry about bothering me. Both of you. I enjoy company, especially if it’s as pleasant as yours," Charlotte assured him with a smile and again Arthur thought about how different she would perceive him if she knew how he made his money. “You can also feel free to take some supplies with you. I’ve got plenty of cans to spare.”

“Oh, that would be very kind of you, Mrs. Balfour. It was definitely a pleasure meeting you. If I’m ever in the area again I might drop by,” Arthur was glad that Albert and Charlotte had gotten along to the point that he actually considered visiting her again.

And Charlotte also seemed to like the idea. “Oh, please always feel free to come and visit whenever you wish to. My door will always be open. To both of you.”

Arthur was happy that she was inviting him but unsure if he would be able to come to her much longer. Dutch had talked about all the things that he wanted to change. About Tahiti or Australia or some other island that they would do to flee the law. He knew that it was unlikely that they’d actually go that far … but he knew that at some point he should stop coming here. Just to avoid Charlotte getting dragged into something that she didn’t deserve to be dragged into. He always hated letting go of people like that but he knew that it was for the best. The only people he could keep around for long was the gang. Because they knew what they had signed up for. 

They finished their breakfast and packed some of the bread that Charlotte had baked the day before and she insisted that they had to take it with them. Arthur refused to take some of her meat though because he was “Very capable of huntin’ my own food,” and wanted her to keep it as she still was very much a beginner when it came to hunting animals. Charlotte agreed eventually and after saddling their horses they continued their travel. 

They crossed the Roanoke River alongside the train tracks, passing by that weird building with the tower that Arthur had seen when he had been around these parts before. The building had been vacant though with nobody close by so he had just let it be. There had been some expensive looking machines inside but nothing that he could’ve loaded onto the back of a horse so he had figured that breaking in wouldn’t have been worth it anyway. 

The further they got to the west, loosely following the train tracks, the more their environment changed into some rocky paths. There were less trees and the patches of forest weren’t as lush as the ones around Roanoke Ridge. It was easier to see further ahead - but also easier to be seen. Albert, of course, wasn’t worried about that - Arthur suspected that he wasn’t even aware of that. He kept chattering about Charlotte. About her lovely cabin, the beautiful waterfalls close to her home, her lovely little flower patch and her hospitality. Of course they also had to stop, again and again, for new photo opportunities. Arthur still didn’t mind it though, the trip to O’Creagh’s Run wasn’t too long of a ride and he was certain that they would make it in time to make camp right by the water. 

And Arthur had been right. The sun just started to set when they reached the lake. They approached it from the side at which the old veteran named Hamish was living. There were no lights coming from inside though and Arthur figured that it wouldn’t make sense to tell a hunting-loving man that they would go looking for some grizzlies, not if Albert wanted to take those pictures with the bears still alive.  

“What a beautiful place this is,” Albert marveled as Arthur led him around the water. He didn’t want to camp just next to the cabin, so they needed to ride a little further. “Nature really is gorgeous, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” Arthur agreed, following his gaze over the water that lay almost still in the evening light. It really was beautiful and Arthur had the urge to draw again. Instead, he looked over at Albert. “What do you think of some fish for dinner?” 

“Fish?” Albert asked. He sounded like he hadn’t expected Arthur to suggest fish for dinner at all. 

Arthur gave him a short, crooked smile before answering. “Well, these waters are great for fishing. Have pulled out some big fellas out of here. Besides, if we want to attract some bears tomorrow, some bait will be good. And nothing’s better than some fish.” “Well, then … It sounds absolutely delightful. You’ll have to show me how it’s done, though.”

They set up camp close to the water, not quite on the shore because Arthur knew how uncomfortable it was to sleep on the gravel right next to the water. They made a small fire, mostly to make sure to keep the nearby animals that were lurking away from them. Albert had already gotten better at setting up a camp and knew how to arrange the firewood so they were finished fairly quick and still had time to catch a fish. All they needed was a little luck. 

They stood at the shore next to each other, Albert holding the rod because he had requested to actually learn it. Arthur leaned in closer, correcting the grip on his hand and directing him how to throw the line out to the water. 

“I see why so many people enjoy this … it is fairly relaxing if you- oh! Oh, I think one bit!!”

The rod almost slipped out of Albert’s hand and Arthur jumped in to take over. He leaned back and reeled the line in, huffing as he felt the pull of the fish. 

“Oh, this sure is a big one, Mr. Mason …,” he said as he took a step back to have a better posture. “Can’t reel ‘m in too quick, otherwise the line will break,” he explained further as Albert hopped around on the balls of his feet to get a better look at what was in the water. The fish broke through the surface as he was fighting the pull, even more so when he was dragged closer to the shore. 

Finally he got the fish out onto the shore. He grabbed it and killed with a quick hit on the head before presenting it to Albert. “May I present you - dinner.” “Oh, that’s a salmon, isn’t it?” Albert asked, still excited and moving closer to expect the fish. “I’ve always just seen illustrations or photographs in books. And ate them, of course. But never this fresh.” “Yeah, you’re right. They’re also the grizzlie’s favourite fish. So this should be perfect.” 

He lay down the fish on a bigger stone nearby, gutted it and wrapped up the guts in a piece of cloth. Albert wrinkled up his nose, it was obvious to Arthur that he hid his disgust. He agreed that it was a rather nasty thing but it had to be done. He put the gutted salmon onto a stick and hung it above the fire to cook. 

“Alright, now we just gotta wait until it’s done. Can cut up some of the bread that Charlotte gave us and we'll have a decent enough meal.” Arthur said and stretched out his legs by the fire. “And tomorrow we’ll find some grizzlies to take a picture of.” 

“That really does sound wonderful,” Albert agreed with a soft sigh as he sat down next to him. He shared his cigarettes with Arthur and both of them watched the fire for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the darkness that started to wrap around them like a blanket, held off only by the fire. 

“So, Mr. Morgan … is this how you live?”, Albert asked. Usually those words would have sounded like a criticism, like it was something bad. But with Albert it sounded more like he was simply wondering and trying to get to know his friend a little better. 

“Most of the time, yeah. Sometimes hotel rooms, but I prefer being outside. Less rules to follow,” he said with a short smile towards Albert who chuckled softly. 

“I know what you mean, yes …” he said in a low voice. “But you’re not alone all the time, are you?” Albert’s voice was gentle, almost careful. Arthur wondered if he really wanted to know the truth or if he wanted to find out if he should start distrusting his travel companion.

Arthur took a drag from his cigarette, contemplating his answer for a moment. There weren’t many groups of people living outside, always traveling around. He was sure that Albert knew this as well as any other … and it was pretty obvious that Arthur was no circus clown, even if he felt like it sometimes. 

“No, I’m not,” he answered eventually, his voice low as well. “It can be a hard life and we’re always .. moving ‘round. But I’ve got my folk and they’ve got me.” 

There was a little smile on Albert’s face as he looked at Arthur. “And I’m glad that’s the case. Life must be awfully lonely with nobody around when you’re living on your own. Especially out in the wild. So … I’m happy to hear that I always meet you on your own because you chose to and not because you got nobody else.”

Arthur had not expected Albert to be worried about something like that of all things he could be worried about. “You really ain’t got no reason to be worried ‘bout me, Mr. Mason,” he told him with a short smile. “I’m fine. Just needing some peace and quiet from time to time.”

“And then you choose to travel with a blabbermouth like me?” Albert laughed and Arthur joined in. Albert really wasn't good at keeping quiet but he had never minded that. If all he enjoyed the things that Albert talked about and how joyful his perspective on life was. 

“Well, I tend to be a fool, you should know that by now,” he said with a grin and Albert shook his head. 

“So am I, Mr. Morgan. So am I.”

They both got hungry because of the tasty smell of the fish so Arthur cut up some slices of bread that they dunked in oil and ate with some of the oregano leaves that they could easily pick from the plants growing nearby. They added the succulent fish meat as it was done cooking, both of them enjoying the texture and the warmth in their bellies. 

With each evening, Arthur had enjoyed Albert’s company even more and it didn’t even feel awkward anymore to get into a tent with him. They slept side by side on their bed rolls and when Arthur woke up during the middle of the night because Albert had put his arm around him in his sleep he found that he didn’t even mind that. It was nice in fact to have a warm body right next to him and he dozed off again with a smile on his face. 

“Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan, wake up!”

Arthur felt someone gently shaking his shoulder and he opened up his eyes, blinking in the process at the early sunlight that was hitting his face. 

“There are some bear cubs!” Albert exclaimed with a shouted whisper. Arthur was awake instantly, knowing very well that cubs would always be close to a very protective mama bear. 

He got up and out of the tent to see what was happening. Roughly 70 feet away from them were actually two bear cubs playing in the water at the shore and trying to catch fish. He put on his hat and watched them warily, searching for their mother. 

Albert, on the other hand, set up his camera quicker than Arthur had ever seen him do it before to start to take some pictures of them. The clicking of the camera made the cubs look over to them and Albert mumbled something in excitement that Arthur did not understand in the slightest. 

Suddenly there was a growl behind them, Arthur turned around and saw the mother of the cubs, standing on her hind legs and glaring at them angrily. “Shit…” he said and grabbed the revolver in his holster. 

“No, don’t shoot her please!” he heard Albert plead behind him. 

“Well what ELSE would you suggest?!” Arthur hissed back to him as the mother dropped down on all fours again and started approaching them. At least she wasn’t in full attack mode yet. 

“Maybe we can … distract her, somehow?!”, Albert suggested and Arthur remembered the fish guts that were still in his satchel.

He moved slowly, not to piss her off in any way, and took the smelling bundle out of his bag. He threw it over to her, right in front of her big paws and she started sniffing it with interest. 

“‘Right, now or never …,” Arthur said and dragged Albert behind him. The photographer was clutching his camera as they slowly moved away from the camp, the bear now munching on the innards of the fish. They reached their horses and unhitched them, both Thunder and Daisy running away on their own, smart enough to know that they were in danger. “They’ll find their way back later,” Arthur assured Albert as he tried to grab Daisy’s lead. 

They moved further into the bushes, now watching the mother and her cubs on the shore from a safe distance. For once, Albert wasn’t talking and Arthur suspected that he knew very well how important it was now not to attract the bears anymore. The mother started rummaging through the things that they had left, ripping the tent and chewing up the last bit of fish bones that were left of their dinner. Eventually she decided that it was time to move on and so she did, followed up by the cubs.

Arthur took a deep breath and lit himself a cigarette to calm his nerves, offering Albert one as well who gladly took it. “Well, that was close. Hope the pictures will be worth it.” 

“Oh, I’m sure they will be. Playing cubs was so much more than I expected! Thank you again for joining me. Someday I really ought to pay you for always having my back!”

Arthur shook his head. “Ain’t no need for that, Mr. Mason. Your company is reward enough for me,” he assured him and it almost looked like Albert was blushing. 

“Well, if you say so …” he cleared his throat. “I really enjoyed traveling with you. Maybe you should really join me some time … venturing out west.”

Arthur looked back at Albert and thought about it again. He had his responsibilities. People who needed him. Who relied on him being there. But they’ve managed without him before, for a few weeks. Who said that they wouldn’t manage again? Who said that he had to spend all his life running with a gang of outlaws if he also could spend it with Albert? He found himself smiling at Albert. 

“I think you might be right, Mr. Mason.” “You know, you can call me Albert…”

He smiled again, knowing that this would only be the beginning of their friendship full of new adventures. “Albert. I’d love to join you out west.” 

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Jordan Claire Robbins, The Umbrella Academy

If you’re a fan of The Umbrella Academy, you probably recognize Jordan Claire Robbins, who stars as Grace/Mom along with Ellen Page, Colm Feore, and Tom Hopper. Jordan's other tv credits include Netflix's Anon opposite Amanda Seyfried and Clive Owen, Supernatural, Man Seeking Woman, and SyFy's 12 Monkeys. Before she set her sights on acting, Jordan had a successful career in modeling. When she's not on our screens, she enjoys singing and playing the piano. Jordan hails from Bermuda and currently resides in Vancouver. She took a few minutes to chat with us about The Umbrella Academy, funny moments on set, and more. Check it out:

Despite the creepy Stepford Wife vibes, on balance, Grace has been a better parent than her maker. What is it that drew you to the role?

I love that there is more to Grace than meets the eye. The writers did a brilliant job of revealing Grace’s depth as the first season went on, while also constantly making you wonder what she was capable of – she’s such an enigmatic character. There were all these beautiful flashback scenes where she was the perfect mother figure she was programmed to be, but also moments when you see a dissonance of sorts when she can’t protect the children from pain inflicted by their father figure. And when the story starts off she’s a shadow of what she once was. She’s lost under this faulty programming and she has so much to fight against to find her own voice. Then when she is given another chance at life she’s this different version of herself, one that makes her own choices and has agency for once. It certainly kept me on my toes, getting to play these different versions of her and also finding a balance between perfectly programmed AI and a hidden humanity, a consciousness I believe she developed over her years with the children. I also really loved how Grace’s story, while being very distinctly non-human, mirrors the life women led not that long ago. I did a lot of research (one of which was Stepford Wives!) to have a better understanding of the template Grace was built in as a 1950’s housewife, and was just so struck by how trapped they were in the gender role of being the perfect wife and mother, to never push back against what society expected of them. There were so many obstacles to them feeling free and empowered, just like Grace. Her inability to leave the house, and totally losing the identity and purpose she was programmed to have when the kids left, felt like such a beautiful, heartbreaking parallel to what so many women have struggled with through history and I loved being able to tell that story.

You've successfully made the leap from modeling to acting. Do you think your experience as a model has helped you in your career change/expansion?

I think the more experience you have in life, the better an actor you can be. Modeling definitely gave me lots of practice getting comfortable being in front of the camera, not taking rejection personally, and being a part of telling a story. Modeling feels very collaborative, the same way acting is, and I think my years of physically transforming to contribute one part of a bigger picture at shoots really helped me understand the creative process that goes into every day on a film set. The biggest challenge for me coming from modeling to acting has been learning to embrace my imperfections, and be okay with letting the camera see them which felt very vulnerable and uncomfortable at first. In modeling there’s a ton of pressure to be this and that, essentially to be flawless, but playing a human being onscreen requires the opposite. Humans are complicated and messy, and the more you can embrace the unattractive parts of yourself the more depth there is to draw from.

In your free time, you like to sing and play the piano. If The Umbrella Academy were a musical, what would Grace's big number be?

Ooh, great question, music is such a huge part of the show, so a musical episode would have been amazing! I listened to a ton of music from the 40s and 50s to get into character, and in my audition tape for Grace I hummed Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ - it’s a funny coincidence because the moon ended up being such a huge theme in Season One. I think it’s perfect for her since it’s so romantic and classy, and because she was always longing for her children, for an escape from being under Hargreeves’ eye so the lyrics are fitting.  

If you could play any other character in the show, who would you choose, and why?

I think Klaus would be a blast to play, he’s so free with no boundaries or self consciousness whatsoever, but he’s also tortured from a lifetime of numbing his pain. Recognizing that I would not be a good casting choice for Klaus (and since I can’t picture anyone playing Klaus besides Robert) I think it also would’ve also been fun to play Cha-Cha, with her dry sense of humor and all of those great stunts. Plus I love Cameron and would love the chance to have scenes with him!

Can you tell us about any funny fails/stories that happened on set?

There’s a scene in episode 3 of season one when Allison and Luther are questioning Grace while she cooks them breakfast. I was supposed to cook eggs and bacon, plate the food into smiley faces, and then bring the plates over to them while avoiding their questions. But I’m not a great multitasker when food is involved and it was the last scene up on a very long day of shooting, so I somehow plated them two really sad looking frown faces. The camera was on me through the middle of them and when they got the giggles it was near impossible to stay in character. For the rest of the night the three of us had a hard time keeping it together – it actually turned out to be one of my favorite scenes, probably because we had so much fun shooting it!

What advice would you give to young people looking to get into modeling and/or acting?

I would say to make sure you stay connected to your sense of self. Neither are particularly easy industries, and it can be hard not to take rejection to heart, but the most important thing is being really grounded in yourself and what makes you happy. There really is no way to do any of this “right” and the most successful people are always the ones who own who they are because that’s the most endearing quality, so if you keep honoring yourself you can’t go wrong. Other than that, be a “yes” person when it comes to taking opportunities to learn and grow! The more you push fear aside and make it your goal to get out of your comfort zone, the further you will go and greater your work will be. The world needs more brave voices to share their stories.

Who do you look up to as an actor?

Jordan Peele is so incredibly talented, he’s obviously a master at comedy and he’s making such original, intelligent projects that look at social issues like racism in a way that’s never been done before. I would love to work with him one day. I’m also really taken with Phoebe Waller-Bridge – I love the boldness she brings to her work. Fleabag is so beautiful, raw, hilarious, and Killing Eve is brilliant, we need more strong female driven stories and she has such a unique voice. And I have always looked up to Helen Mirren. She radiates this strength and classiness while also being so playful and irreverent - and she makes aging sexy in an industry where women can feel so much pressure to stay young.

Thanks for taking the time, Jordan! Season two of The Umbrella Academy is now streaming on Netflix.

[sadaboutniall]

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Twenty Seven. November, 2017. 

‘Are you sure you think I look okay?’ Isla’s smoothing her hands over the front of her trousers, eyes meeting Niall’s in the mirror. He can see her hands trembling slightly, an anxious look in her eyes.

Maybe he’d been naive to think that taking Isla to the AMAs would be smooth sailing. He half thought that the glitter and glitz of Hollywood would outshine her anxiety, that she would realize that, although the things here are pretty and expensive, the people are no different, and she fits right in. He’d thought she’d feel confident and sexy with him showing her off in front of everyone else tonight—not nervous and shaky and unsure of her worth. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ he tells her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, letting one hand travel up to rest on the skin of her belly. After making Niall’s suit, Paul Smith had offered to make Isla a dress as well, and Niall’d joined in on the meetings, flipping through pages of fabric samples and silhouette sketches with Isla, Ellie, and Paul. At the end of it all, though, Isla’d settled on a custom suit instead: tight, curve hugging trousers and a matching blazer, low cut enough to expose an intricate, lace bralette and more than a little bit of skin. He couldn’t keep his hands off her the first time he saw it, and he doesn’t feel any different now. He rests his chin on her shoulders and keeps his eyes locked on hers in the mirror.  ‘Everyone’s going to love you.’

Isla sighs shakily, her hands coming up to cover Niall’s, to entwine her fingers with his. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I know it’s not about me tonight, I shouldn’t be—’

‘It’s always about you,’ he drops a kiss to her neck. ‘You feeling comfortable is more important to me than any awards show.’

‘Don’t be an eejit,’ says Isla quietly, but there’s a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Niall feels triumphant, heart soaring in his chest. 

-- 

He walks the carpet alone. They’d agreed that they’re not ready for any kind of public appearances just yet—that what they have is special, precious, and shouldn’t belong to anyone other than the two of them. Still, he lets his mind wander a little as he poses, thinks about what it would be like to smile for the cameras with Isla on his arm, his hand resting on her waist, the look in his eyes showing the entire world how lucky he is to call himself hers. For all Niall values keeping his private life private, he’s been feeling an itch lately, a pull to make sure every single stranger knows how much he loves Isla. 

It started with Colm’s comment and Isla’s confession, Niall knows that. But he doesn’t think that makes it any less genuine, his desire to start bringing her to more work events, to ease her into his world. It’s a mad, mad place, but he doesn’t want to be in it without Isla, and it makes his stomach churn to think she ever felt excluded. So, slowly but surely he’s been bringing her along where appropriate, introducing her to more and more of the people he works with. But tonight feels like a test of its own, her very first big event, coupled with her first ever trip to LA.

With Tara by his side, Niall stands for quick interviews along the carpet, dodging relationship questions and One Direction digging. He hugs and kisses friends for the camera, talks about his album and tour plans, and tries not to worry too much about Isla, inside the theater with Mully and Emilia. It feels weirder than he anticipated, being separated from her and having to do his job while he knows she’s watching him. She can’t sit with him either, won’t be able to hold his hand when they call out his category, kiss him when he loses—or wins. 

But this is better than nothing, he tells himself, shoving his hands in his pockets as he and Tara make the final stretch down the carpet. Having Isla here, even if she can’t be next to him, is as good as it gets for them right now. 

-- 

Winning hadn’t even occurred to Niall. 

When they call his name it’s genuine shock—enough that he almost thinks he’s imagining it for a second, until Shawn claps him on the back and Tara launches into a hug and holy shit, fuck, he’s actually won it, an AMA, all on his own. 

He stumbles up to the stage shaking with adrenaline, heart soaring, and it’s not until he gets to the mic that he realizes he hasn’t prepared a speech at all, hadn’t even let himself consider the possibility that he would actually, for real, win this thing. For a split second he’s staring out at an expectant room, filled with the faces of his friends, his colleagues, his idols, with nothing to say. 

And then he spots Isla. She’s next to Emilia, only a few rows back but all the way on the side, so it’s no wonder he hadn’t seen her before, and she’s got this glint in her eyes that Niall thinks might be tears, her hands covering her mouth, Emilia’s arm over her shoulders. It’s enough, just seeing her, to wake him the fuck up. 

The speech comes out easy, then: thank yous to his team at Capitol and at Modest, and a hearty thank you to the fans, for making this possible. It feels like his heart is screaming at him, though, as he clutches the bulky, heavy award with both hands and raises it into the air. 

All he wants to do is be able to thank Isla. 

-- 

Someone, Niall can’t remember who, suggests ditching the afterparty, and somehow they all end up at his house: Shawn Mendes, Nick Jonas, Selena, the lads from The Chainsmokers, Julia, everyone. It feels a bit like sneaking out on a school trip, like they’ve escaped the teachers and can spend the night doing what they want, instead of something boring and educational, and Niall feels like he’s at the center of it all, like the hero of the night, like the most important person in the room. 

That might have something to do with Isla, though, the way she’s taken off her blazer so she’s just in her trousers and her bralette, the way she’s talking to Julia and Emilia but keeps glancing back in Niall’s direction, smiling privately when she catches his eye. It’s warm in here with all the bodies and Niall’s slowly shedding his clothes, too: his jacket is off and so is his vest, and he’s already undone the first few buttons of his shirt. He keeps catching Isla trailing her eyes over his chest, his collarbone, his neck. The feeling of her eyes on him is like lightning in his lower belly. 

‘She’s stunning,’ Nick tells Niall, jerking his head in Isla’s direction. They’re in the kitchen, him, Nick, and Shawn, leaning up against the counter and sipping on gin and tonics. ‘Good for you.’

Niall feels a rising in his chest, pride, happiness. It outshines even the feeling of winning his award tonight. ‘She’s brilliant,’ Niall says. ‘I’m lucky.’

‘Where’d you meet? She’s Irish too, right?’ 

‘They’ve known each other since, like, kindergarten,’ Shawn answers for him. ‘Dated in school, broke up when he made it big, got back together after things settled down. The whole nine yards.’

‘Oh, hometown hero?’ Nick’s smirking. ‘That’s sweet, bro. You keeping her around for a while, then?’

‘Forever, hopefully,’ says Niall. He and Isla haven’t talked about that in explicit words, but he can’t imagine anything else. He watches Nick raise his eyebrows, tipping back another sip of his drink. 

‘Good for you,’ he repeats, once he’s swallowed. ‘She seems like a good one.’

--

As the night cools off, Isla does, too. Slowly but surely Niall notices her loosen up, expanding her circle from just Mia and Julia to include Selena, and then Nick and Shawn. By the time he and Mully come back up from the basement, where they’d gone to fetch more wine, Isla is in the middle of it all, sandwiched between Tara and Mia but chatting excitedly to Shawn and The Chainsmokers, laughing into her vodka soda. He feels a swell of pride again, a twinge of hope in his heart. She can fit in here. He’s known it all along. 

He and Mully join the group to cheers and shouts, hands reaching out for the full bottles of wine. Tara squeezes over, closer to Selena, and Niall’s able to fit in between her and Isla, his hand coming to rest on her knee. With a soft squeeze he meets her eyes, mirrors her smile. 

‘Okay?’ He mouths, just for her. 

She nods, hand coming up to rest on top of his. 

‘Isla was just telling me,’ says Nick, who pronounces the ‘s’ in Isla’s name. Mully snorts, but Nick doesn’t notice. ‘About school in Ireland. I never knew you played soccer, bro.’

‘Star of the team, he was,’ says Mully. He squeals when Emilia elbows him in the stomach. 

‘We should play,’ Nick carries on. ‘Five a side or something. Isla?’

‘Oh,’ she blushes, shaking her head. ‘I’m pretty shite at football, honestly. Sean, though—’

‘Fuck yeah,’ Mully interjects. ‘Five a side is my shit. I’ll get jerseys made up and—’

Nick looks a little put out and Niall can’t help it: he feels smug. He snakes his hand around Isla’s waist, resting his palm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers playing gently with the lace of her bralette. She casts him a sly look and he feels on top of the world, like a king beside her. And what a fucking feeling it is.

--

‘You know,’ he says, later that night, Isla resting against his bare chest in bed. His limbs are heavy with exhaustion, alcohol, post-orgasm bliss.  ‘I think Nick Jonas has a crush on you.’

‘If you told 2008 Isla that one day she’d have to choose between you and Nick fucking Jonas,’ she glances up at him, her eyes glinting with supressed laughter. She looks heavenly like this, Niall thinks: naked, hair cascading down her back, legs tangled up with his, bed sheets pooling around her waist. 

‘You’d totally choose me,’ Niall finishes for her, leaning down for a kiss. Isla laughs into his mouth, hand coming up to cup his cheek. When they pull away Isla presses her nose to Niall’s, holding him there for a moment. 

‘Thank you for tonight,’ she says eventually. ‘For including me, for being so patient with me.’

‘I always want you included,’ he tightens his arms around her waist. ‘I don’t want to do this without you.’ 

‘Me neither,’ Isla whispers, eyes locked on Niall’s.

‘Not even with Nick?’ He asks, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Isla laughs too, crinkles at the corner of her eyes, nose scrunching up, giggles carrying through his quiet bedroom. Contentedness settles over Niall’s body like a warm blanket, like Isla on top of him. 

‘Not even with Nick Jonas,’ she kisses Niall gently, lips brushing his as she speaks. ‘No one but you, lover.’

####

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[ryanmeft]

Movie Review: The Mountain

It’s hard, when you’ve got a thoroughly detestable character, not to preach about it. In most movies, a man like Dr. Wallace Fiennes would at some point, probably to his socially-stunted assistant Andy, give a chilling speech about why he is the way he is, how he sees the world. His entire profession is to lobotomize mental patients, which he does as though he’s fixing siding: aloof, removed, clinical. When he is done for the day he often parties. There is no “a-ha” moment for the audience. We are simply asked to regard a detestable man the way that man does everyone: as an experiment for our thoughts.

Fiennes is not the main character, for to see the world from inside his head would be all wrong. Instead we see it from inside that of Andy (Tye Sheridan). He is a young man whose mother was institutionalized, lobotomized and, we can assume, failed to survive at the hands of Fiennes. After Andy’s father (Udo Kier) dies, Andy has a garage sale, and Fiennes shows up. Andy already has plenty of reason to dislike Fiennes, so there is some question as to why he agrees to a job documenting his lobotomy patients, who he travels from hospital to hospital to “treat”. He may need the money. He may need something to do. He may be simply hoping to find his mother, whose hospital Fiennes claims he can no longer access. He may just lack the social skills to say no. He is, after all, frozen by the mere dreamed specter of ordinary human experiences: love making, skating, ordinary mornings with breakfast and the paper. It sometimes seems as if he cannot emotionally react to anything, in his mind or outside it. Things seem to freeze when he looks at or thinks about them.

We only ever see Fiennes through Andy’s eyes. Andy seems oddly ambivalent about him, and we view him, always, at a remove. He is played by Jeff Goldblum, who, for all that his popular roles frequently cast him as a flamboyant devil-may-care type, can be really damn creepy when he wants to be. He is vain; he enjoys the attention being on him while he operates. He is selfish; when he is told that the medical profession has begun to consider medication more strongly, he insists his methods are better. He is greedy; when one hospital decides to no longer employ him because they’ve come to the crazy realization that there are better ways to treat mental illness than cutting part of the patient’s brain out, his one and only concern is for his own potential lost income. He is an unabashed hedonist; when a patient appears to die on the table (at least there is an awful lot of blood, more than I would appreciate coming out of my head), he spends the night gleefully hitting on women and dancing. He is never unhappy or doubtful except when he is denied his own way. Goldblum does not hesitate or hold back, bringing this amoral man to life with no compromises. Imagine his role as the out-to-lunch, dictatorial Grandmaster in Thor: Ragnarok, but with all the humor and fun sapped out of it. It is one thing to see such a man in a live-action cartoon, quite another to encounter one in the real world.

The key character for both men is with a woman named Susan (Hannah Gross). She has been kept in institutions by her mad father (Denis Lavant), who now wishes to hire Fiennes to do what he does. Fiennes accepts without hesitation. Susan’s “illness”? She is rebellious. This was of course a common affliction of women in the days before they were generally allowed to have personalities of their own. Andy connects with her in a different way, and though they share some of the most unappealing, mercenary sex you’ll see on screen, he has done something her father will not and Fiennes cannot: seen her as human.

The most ghastly part of Fiennes is that he is loosely based on a real person, a Dr. Walter Freeman who become rather infamous for his development of the transorbital lobotomy. If you are old enough, you may remember him and his procedure. If, like me, you are not, and you are having a good day and wish to continue doing so, don’t go and find out any more. Rick Alverson has opted to direct his film, from a screenplay by himself, Dustin Guy Defa and Colm O’Leary, in a way so as to obscure all of the actual procedures, and having read about them it is easy to see why; they are the stuff of nightmares.

Instead we see the people before and after. None of those shown in the film seem to have particularly severe issues. Fiennes does not care. The film has been set in the 1950’s and spread throughout the heartland of America. There is scarcely an appointment in Fiennes’s calendar which does not involve driving through forests, mountains, or other ostensibly scenic places. They are not scenic here. In keeping with Alverson’s stated desire to present a counter-argument to the idea that in America anything is possible, his vision of the core of America in mid-century is anything but booming. Lorenzo Hagerman’s camera may be looking at mountains and trees and winding roads, but the color palette is as sterile as the operating rooms of the hospitals---everything is washed out and bleak, and the majestic drives serve to emphasize the distance between Fiennes’s soul, if he has one, and what he is doing. Susan’s father, Jack, serves as a contrast between what the society of the time would accept and what it would not. He is clearly crazy, himself. He rants and raves for no reason. He is antagonistic to everyone he even suspects may be a little different, getting in Andy’s face and all but daring him to challenge him on whatever bizarre thing the older man is saying. This is a person who would rather have his daughter’s brain chopped up than that she have her own life, but at that time he would have been considered the more acceptable of the two.

Nostalgia for the ‘50’s is a feeling that only part of the population can ever have; if you were not white, straight, Christian and male, with no serious disabilities, you would never choose to live in that era. Some movies have broken the fictional, Maybury-esque spell---Sam Raimi’s Revolutionary Road, arguably his greatest achievement, was as stark and as wounding a picture of the era’s hidden horrors as you’re ever likely to see. Yet the treatment of mental patients at the time seems to be in a no-go zone, unless it’s being dramatized for a horror film. That makes The Mountain worth seeing for anyone who doesn’t lionize mid-century America---or, perhaps, more urgently, for anyone who does.

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

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[radiodreadzone]

Witness and Counselor

WC: 5599

TW: Death and Violence mentions

It had been...a long time since I’d heard from Thee-I-Dare.

I tried not to let the thoughts in the back of my mind tell me that it was my fault that it was that way. That he had found my choice lacking. That my reaction to things had been...unnecessary and unwanted. It warred in me, how anxious I was to hear back about something regarding what he’d said. When had I ended up so dependent? That wasn’t...something that I wanted to be. Ever. Hadn’t we already been cautioned on that enough about them? And yet...There were still questions I had, now that I’d had time to think about everything.

Thinking...Right. As always...that was what had done me in. 

Too much time to myself meant that the doubt started to creep in like an old house left to settle. Termites in the wood. Resolve cracking like a bad foundation in the face of sudden doubts and questions left to rise in an echo chamber.

I told him I was angry. That hadn’t been a lie. The sharp sting of all that he’d told me had burned like salt in an open wound. The days had stretched. The sting had lessened. Kyle, Muse, and Kirby frequently cast me curious looks in the boxcar or on missions. I knew as well as they did that I’d...gotten quieter. Some nights it was easier to hide. But as time went on it’d just been harder. Harder to pretend that I was alright.

I began spending more and more time in Hoadly alone. Splitting off from the boxcar before any of my friends arrived. Trying to avoid them if only for the sake of allowing myself time with my thoughts. A quiet, crueler part of me whispered it was unfair of me to subject them to my worries and fears. I’d talked a little with them sometimes but...There were some things I just couldn’t...wouldn’t explain to them.

Kyle...he adored Thee-I-Dare. I doubt that anything I would have said about my situation would have changed that. Or at least..I hoped not. I wouldn’t want to be the one who set him on a path of gnawing uncertainty like I was. This was not a road I wanted anyone to share. Muse and Kirby...well. Both of them had made their feelings clear on Thee-I-Dare. A deep seated distrust, and even hatred. I didn’t...I didn’t know what to think of him some days, but I did know that I wanted to hope for the best. Hope that he was true to his word. I wanted my trust in him to remain steady and sure. Yet something still sat heavy in my chest regardless.

I recognized it for what it was about the time that I felt the low swing of hopelessness. Grief. Or a form of it anyway. I was no stranger to it, but this old friend had come wearing a new guise and I hadn’t seen it until that moment. A realization that things were...not going to be as I had hoped. That there were obstacles and things beyond my reckoning in my way. But what did that mean for me? What did that mean for the things I was going to do?

The answer didn’t come in the silent nights. It didn’t come in the long, drawn out days where I struggled to stay awake and pretend everything was normal. It was...an impossible choice. But I knew that I would still...have to try. I would have to do something. I just...I didn’t know what. Not yet.

In the void left behind by the familiar faces I knew, I supplemented them with the advice and camaraderie of strangers. I ran missions that went later into the night, when the early blush of dawn began to creep fingers across the sky. Kids I’d never seen before came along beside me, and some of them became familiar and dear as those I already knew. It was to two, Juniper and Mur, I tended to gravitate towards on those late nights.

Juniper had theories. Lots of them. Mur...he had ideas. It was a very familiar dynamic. But in a way that Kyle was not, Mur was thoughtful and a little more suspicious. Curious and brazen in his wording, he was more tempered than what I was used to in my former teammates. It was one reason why I talked to him a little about what I’d experienced, and about why the absence of the Voice I’d pledged to follow bothered me so deeply.

It helped. At least...until the brazen kicked in.

---

“Hey! You need to go talk to Sparrow! She misses you!” I’d looked up at the sound of Mur shouting my name in the boxcar, only to find him standing arms crossed in a stubborn stance in front of the mirror.

My heart stopped. “Mur! NO!” I yelled, trying to drown him out mid-word. I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. That wasn’t how Lights worked. At least...I didn’t think it was.

“You have a lot to answer for, Thee-I-Dare!” Mur finished, just as I managed to get my hands on him and drag him from the circle.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I yelled at him.

He was grinning down at me. “Getting you results!” 

“I told you that I didn’t need anyone asking about me!” The panic seizing my chest made my breath come in pants. The words were a struggle to get out.

Mur’s expression faltered, taking me in. “Wait...you were serious?” At my frantic nod he cringed. “Oh...God. I’m so sorry, Sparrow I-... Look. As soon as I get a Light I’ll send him another. ‘Hey, just kidding!’ y’know?”

I put my face in my hands, taking a deep shuddering breath as I tried to calm down. “Yeah. Sure, Em.” The words were weak and broken. 

Great. Now not only was he not speaking to me, but now he would probably figure I’d been talking shit about the quiet to others. 

‘She misses you!’

I flinched away from the thought. Too close. Far too close to the truth there. This was...not what I needed right now. I would have to figure out something to do. Something to say. Damage control.

“Sparrow, I’m sorry.” Mur tried again. I waved him off.

“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. I’m...gonna go. I’ll catch you in a few days, okay?” I called over my shoulder, vanishing into the night. Vanishing into a mission. I just...had to be careful not to vanish all together…

The dim rays of the filtering dawn found me standing in front of a mirror, Light in place on the altar. I apologized for the hasty words someone else had sent on my behalf. I didn’t need them to fight my battles for me. To summon him. I was patient and could wait. He was already limited. He was already doing the best he could. He had so many who were reaching out to him. What use was one more voice raised to bother him? I could cope.

There was plenty to do in Redacre in the meantime, and armed with that knowledge and a steeled determination to wait, to not draw further attention to myself, I returned to my solitude in Hoadly.

---

It’s fine. 

Given a few weeks, I started to fool even myself. Took the time to tamp it all down. To turn my gaze to other things. The mystery of Colm. The broken symbol. The strange Hunter. The Unknown Caller. There was plenty to tide me over. New aspects and facets to turn over carefully in my mind as I explored the depths of the Maze and diligently collected signs and evidence of CHORUS’ stranger, darker handiwork.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself, even as I took the time to try very hard...not to think. About any of it. It was easier that way. My focus was simply...in the moment. On the things I could do now. The path in the Maze and the places I’d been, my senses sharp for the sound of footsteps nearby, and the delicate sound of tumblers clicking in the lock. A gentle ‘click’, and I was pushing the door carefully open into the room filled with lockers. My eyes were peeled for any signs of Lucids as a bloody red light clicked on and off overhead like a forgotten alarm.

A laptop I’d spied through a window was perched, forgotten, on the top of one of the long sets of lockers. A quick vault onto the worn metal, and a quick snap of my phone’s camera, and the missing person’s report on the screen was recorded for later. I slid back to the ground, rising from a crouch. Absently, I reached up and carefully shut the laptop, considering the picture I’d just taken, and taking a moment to flick through the rest as I started to stride off again.

He took me by surprise.

YOU ARE NEVER A BOTHER TO ME.

My heart thundered in my chest and I took a half step back, startled. “Jesus.” I hissed, drawing in a ragged, steadying breath. He was here. Never a bother, he’d said. I clenched my jaw. So he had heard that. Grand. Now...now what? Uncertainty rose, cloying, in my chest. “Hi…” the words sounded meek, and I did my best to add more strength to my voice to no avail. “Been a bit.” The hush of my own voice pressed in on me, and I wanted to kick myself for my own obvious hesitations.

You’re fine. You’re supposed to be fine!

IT HAS. ALWAYS TOO LONG.

I wondered if that should comfort me, that he seemed to dislike the absences as much as I had. But I also could barely think past my own unease, the nerves. I knew the things I wanted to say. To confront him about...but…

I resisted the urge to scrub at my face, deciding to tamp that all down, as I was best at, and speak instead as I walked. Alternative forms of distraction. “Yeah...you’re spread a little thinner these days.” What was I even saying? I could barely form a thought, as I tried to find...somewhere to go. My concentration fragmenting as I pushed through the Nerve Center and down into one of the String Relays. 

JUST SLOW. WE MUST MEET, CONFER. ONE BY ONE. TEDIOUS.

Right. He still didn’t have full reign. Couldn’t speak freely to those who called to him unless they beckoned. “Right. Limited by...the Lights.” A Sleeper stood at an instrument console, bringing me up short. I paused, considering quietly before giving a shake of my head and moving to turn around and head back in the direction of the ladder. I had no idea where to go. Where I could just...stand to speak to him that would be safe. The surface above me seemed suddenly so very far away, and I felt...cornered. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. One that I wasn’t used to in Thee-I-Dare’s presence.

I hated it very much.

YES. HOW ARE YOU, SPARROW?

Silence greeted him in reply, my hesitation ringing clear. 

Say something! My brain screamed at me.

Tact flew out the window in the face of earnestness. “I’m not...sure how to answer that. Not unless you want a really loaded answer.” I wanted to take the words back, even as I let them out. But it was too late now. “You left me with a lot to think about, last time.” I finished, standing in the midst of Nerve Center. The loud ring of the disc above did little for my fraying nerves.

I AM JUST ONE WEARY OLD VOICE. YOU NEED NOT LISTEN TO SUCH.

The drawn out hiss and rasp of the disc above me set my teeth on edge and I fled down into Ingestion, back in the direction of String Supply. I may not have needed to listen to him, but...he was a friend. I sought out his advice as often as my friends. Perhaps that was a dangerous reliance but...His words carried weight. Too late for me to realize that I’d landed myself potentially neck deep in the danger of the Voices they all warned us of.

Little fool.

I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what he expected me to say. By the time I found my words, they were halted and stumbling. “Maybe not...but…” they broke off on a sigh as he stirred forth, the words rising again behind my eyes, within my head.

I AM SORRY IF I SEEMED CALLOUS.

The apology surprised me, and my head came up at it, blinking into the length of the hallway. I’d thought they were above that sort of thing. All of them. Even him. Admitting they were...wrong, even if it was just in the way they carried themselves. “It…” I took a deep and steadying breath, letting it out once again. The words were finally sorting themselves in my head as I carefully stepped up the stairs in String Supply.

“It was more than you being callous, though...It...Look, I understand that you want to help keep us realistic about the things going on here...But if you’re gonna do that? I’m going to keep you honest too.” I valued the fact that he wanted to keep me on the same page. That he kept me from getting carried away on a falsified idea of my own mind’s creation. But if he was going to lie to me like I lied to myself...I wouldn’t be able to stand for it. The exchange was moot.

I thought back to everything over the last few weeks, the things I’d turned over in my head that had hedged into doubts, into uncertainties. Would it be wrong to call him out on them? What would it mean or say to him about me, that I was keeping a sharp eye out for these sorts of things? It was too late now to back down, though. I’d already said I would keep him honest. I might as well bury the knife, even if it was in my own chest. “I’m pretty sure that...some of the things you said...have been saying lately…” I went on in a slow, careful measure. “I’m not sure...if you’re going against your own word or if you’re just bleeding all over the place with your ideologies.”

There was a lengthy pause as I hefted myself onto the rafters above, the white painted beams that overlooked the Throat became the place that I settled down, straddling the wood. Always perching somewhere high, little bird. I shoved the wry words away into the back of my head. 

His extended silence kicked my nerves into gear again and I rubbed a hand down my face, muffling my words. “I was mad about it before but now I’m just...tired,” It was as much of a confessional as I would ever give. It was so dangerously, perilously close to the truth of everything I felt over the last month. “And not sure what to do with this. I don’t know where it stands with you.” I trailed off my mumbling, looking out at the yawning chasm far below. I shivered involuntarily and drew my jacket tighter around me.

YOUR VOICE FADES, SPARROW.

I blinked, hit with a simultaneous bout of relief and embarrassment. He’d missed it. All of that. Not for the first time, I wondered how his senses worked in relation to mine. Or was it...in conjunction? I didn’t know. Regardless, the apology from me came swiftly. “I’m...muttering to myself.” It was as much of a casual brush off as I could give it. A reprieve granted to me from the universe. “I think the day took a toll. I’ll speak up.” His time was limited as it was, I didn’t need him to deal with me mumbling on top of it all as well, even if it had saved me this time.

I AM YOUR WITNESS, COUNSELOR.

I couldn’t help the small, tired smile at the descriptions.

WHERE HAVE I SPOKEN FALSELY?

The smile faded and I let out a long breath. “Well…There’s a couple of things I can think of.” I trailed off, letting my thoughts gather as I let my eyes fall down to the ground below. Things he’d said. Things he’d done. The way I’d been told he was acting by others in the Club. He’d called himself a mirror to us and our emotions...but sometimes there was something off even in those reflections. It made me cringe a little to think I had caught him lying. To prove that the liar was what he was and always would be...But I also needed to let him know that he wouldn’t be able to slip this sort of thing by me. That I would be watching, and paying attention.

“Well, the first thing that I know of is...you...A long time ago I asked you a hard question about you not wanting to die?” An old conversation. He thought that we were better off without him and his kind and yet… “And then...you pull martyrdom onto the table and you’re starting to sound a lot like Die-For-You, now.” He’d asked something of Krystal. She hadn’t been able to hide it from me. She’d taken me aside and told me point blank. 

“Thee-I-Dare asked me to talk to In-Her-Teeth. To tell her that if she helps him against SAO, that he’ll give himself up. That she can have him.”

He would die. 

I flinched back from the thought, feeling the very idea begin to choke up my throat. 

Not now. You need to…Just talk, Sparrow. Think about this later.

I took a shaky breath, my voice thicker but finally unsticking from my throat. The next was...important. “And then, you tell us all the time that you don’t judge...and yet you have condemned an entire group of people. That sounds a lot like judging, to me.” He’d condemned the Lucids. Normally...I wouldn’t have argued. I’d seen them. Had no love for them myself. But now, with that niggling thought in the back of my head that my own dad could be one of them, enscripted amongst the ranks...The stakes had gotten so very very high. I couldn’t wish him harm. I loved him too much. I’d already lost too much from my dwindling family.

DOES ONE SIT IN JUDGMENT OF A TIGER?

I exhaled a harsh breath, steeling myself as the words burned across my mind. Firm though they were, I didn’t think he intended to be unkind. Merely stating...the truth. He’d told me he could lie about it. But that he wouldn’t. I could only hope that promise continued to now.

WHAT THE LUCIDS ARE NOW...THEY WILL NOT HESITATE.

Something fierce sparked up in my chest. Anger. Anger at him and this...this entire situation. He made them sound like cold blooded killers. Shuffled them all neatly into a box of one particular idea and tendency. “They’re people!” I snapped, the bite in my tone surprising me.

WHEN MY MAKERS PULL THE STRINGS...THEY ARE WEAPONS.

The fire in my chest banked. It was tempered, but it hadn’t disappeared. I sat back, jaw setting. So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?

“Is that what we’re all supposed to be? Is that why it sounds like killing being brought to Redacre is supposed to be the most interesting way to ‘shake things up’?” I thought back to Seed-The-Grudge being allowed on the table, to The-Measure-Cuts being interested to see what she brought to Redacre. The rest of her siblings being alright with that. The Hunter prowling in the dark unchecked...I felt disgust twist deep in my chest along with that burning swell. The Maestro wanted human weapons. Did the other Voices want the same thing? That I was supposed to be alright with killing my own father or watching him die was...very telling. “Is that what’s expected?” The echo of my own voice bounced back to me from the Throat and the walls around me. A sleeper passing below paused.

Too loud. Take it down a notch, kid.

I took a shaky breath. Let it out. Counted to three. 

“‘Cause I can’t do that. I’ll find every other way first.” Stubborn. So damn stubborn. But...it was all I had right now. What could I say to a god? A Voice? An ancient thing that had likely debated this sort of thing with wiser men and women time and again through centuries…

I tried not to think too hard about that.

I TOLD YOU. YOU CAN ALWAYS RUN.

The fire guttered, extinguished. I slumped on the beam. Again. Again telling me to run. To get out of here. No soldier. No fighter. Just a scared little bird yelling on her branch about her morality with no place here, even as she tried to protect those she loved.

“I don’t think running is really an option either. What am I going to do outside of Redacre by myself? Where would I go? Who would I have? If I even made it out at all?”

A fourteen year old kid in the mountains of Virginia, alone and without anything or anyone to her name. Where the hell was I supposed to go from there? How was I expected to survive that? I didn’t even have the guarantee of a Voice in my head at that point. Just me. Against the world. It was too daunting to begin to consider. I drew my knees up to my chest, wrapping arms tightly around them.

SPARROW…

I felt it like a tired sigh, and I hunched deeper into my tight posture. Clenching my eyes shut against what I was sure would be another lecture did little when the words burned themselves across the back of my eyelids.

MANY TRUE GREAT STORIES BEGIN THUS. ALONE. NOTHING TO YOUR NAME...EXCEPT CHOICE.

I cringed back from the idea. “So you’d paint it as heroics.” I was the furthest thing from that. A hero. I was a kid. I was barely passing algebra. I had no idea what the fuck I was doing, and I was talking to a Voice in my head. By all accounts, I was insane. There was nothing admirable or great about this story. I was just as likely to become a milk carton kid as the next teen in our scrappy Club. Voice in my head or otherwise.

“That breaks every choice that I made to start, here” I rubbed tiredly at my eyes. “Do you know why I joined the Club, long ago? It was to find out what happened to my dad...and then, my motivations are...completely thrown to the wayside when I hear that I can’t fix this. I have to find a way. I have to try.” I felt my voice beginning to break, and paused, swallowing the knot in my throat. “People make choices every day. It’s what we do. Who’s to say they can’t undo the choices they’ve already made? We’re not static.” We’re not gods. We can change.

I had to believe I could fix this. Had to believe I could save him. What did I have if I didn’t? Where did I go? What did I do otherwise?

NOT HEROICS. WHAT DO I ALWAYS SAY?

I was silent, and though we both knew the answer, it came regardless.

SURVIVAL.

 I clenched my jaw, eyes sliding shut and huddled deeper into my dad’s large coat. “Survival at the cost of others?” I asked, the words were soft but the accusation was there, bleeding into the tones.

IN YOUR VISION...WHAT IS VICTORY?

“Victory here?” He’d caught my by surprise. I blinked into the dim light of the Maze, thinking. The answers I came up with were...remarkably childish. “Probably the most naive version of it.” I responded, feeling foolish. Feeling terribly, terribly young. “Things work out. We break the doom harp...No one has to die…” In some pretty, golden universe, somewhere. Maybe that would happen. Not here. Not in Redacre. I refused to let my eyes do more than sting as I sat feeling like an idiot for my answer.

THE INSTRUMENT? LONG BEFORE IT…THEY STILL WON. TIME AND AGAIN. DEEP DOWN, MOST OF YOUR PARENTS...THEY DO NOT WANT OUT. NOT TRULY.

I listened, thoughts flashing. One stuck out sharply in my head. The laptop in the boxcar, our stolen evidence and logged conversations. The discussion between the Dead Skeptic and Bells. “‘It takes a particular kind of person to come to Redacre.’” I recited miserably, my voice low and barely even audible to my own ears.

YOU SPOKE TOO SOFTLY THERE…

I didn’t deign to repeat myself, already feeling like I’d kicked myself enough.

BUT...YES. SO ONE MUST ASK ONESELF...CAN WE SAVE THOSE WHO WANT IT NOT?

I lifted my head from the cradle of my knees, brows furrowing as I focused on the deep cavern below.

SHOULD WE?

Choice. Choice again. Even as much as it felt like a test, the words poured out without a thought. “What if it interferes with...Is what’s going on here interfering with their free will?”

I clipped the words short, rubbing my hands against my face. The caste system. The Sleepers and the Lucids. One may have been in the dark, hooded and unknowing, beckoned by the Song but the Lucids. The Lucids knew. They acted at the behest of what they thought they understood. What they thought was right. Like Muse, they had picked their Voice. Made their own decision. “...Well in some cases.” I tapered off and shook my head, abandoning the argument on a sigh. “God...I’m answering my own questions.”

But what did that mean? Did that mean that I had to sit back and let it happen anyway? Just because...just because this was the way it was…did that mean it was the way it had to be? I’d told him, hadn’t I, that humans weren’t static. That we could change our minds. Make new choices. “Does it...It can’t hurt to still try?” The words were quiet, wavering, and so full of uncertain hope. It felt like a fragile thing to ask there, in the darkness. These words offered to a tired Voice who had already cautioned me for the path that I’d picked, felt like they had a chance to break me on the answer. I buried my head back against my knees, waiting for him to speak again.

OUR RITUAL TIME IS TOO BRIEF, BUT...FIRST. SPARROW. YOU ARE RIGHT.

I looked up, looking for eyes to meet that weren’t there. Such a human reaction I never seemed to beat around the Voices.

TO TRY IS A CHOICE. YOURS, IT SEEMS.

I couldn’t get a sense for his tone. Couldn’t tell if he was unhappy with my decisions. These choices that I continued to make. I thought back to everything I’d said. The sting of my own naivety. The uncertainty. I was making my choices regardless. I closed my eyes again. Why does it feel like the fool’s errand, then?

I hadn’t even realized I’d spoken it aloud.

BECAUSE, SPARROW...YOU ARE GROWING UP.

I laughed, and it wasn’t a thing of humor. It was pained and broken. Frustrated and tired. “Well. This sucks!”

YES.

I sat there in the silence between us for a moment. Taking another moment to have a deep breath and try and gather myself again. Not to rally, but to center. “But, I knew when I joined the Club that I’d have to fight...tooth and nail if that’s what it took. This place doesn’t give easy victories. It always has a price. But I know what I want to do. I know where my lines are drawn.” The words were more for me than for him. A reassurance. An understanding of what I was here to do and what I understood would come of it. The things I would give up, and the things that I wouldn’t.

I WOULD OFFER THIS. IT MAY HURT.

Foreboding curled in my chest. I had a feeling I knew where this was going. It gave me time to brace. Gave me time to...to lie. To myself.

YOU SPOKE OF MARTYRDOM.

“I mentioned it…” The words rolled weakly off my tongue.

I THINK ONLY OF FREEING YOUR KIND…

“...right.” 

WHAT IF, EVEN NOW...YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF WITHOUT ME?

What if he was gone, too? I buried my face back in my arms. It did little to block out his words. 

WHAT IF YOU SAVED THEM ALL?

Don’t cry, Sparrow. Don’t you dare fucking cry. Not now. Please not now. Not in front of him.

Hold it together.

Save them all. More heroics. More sacrifices. More loss. God. Why was it always...so much more loss. I shied back from that thought. I opened my mouth and let myself speak. “I get what you’re implying. I know you’ve...mentioned it to others. A lot of people have freaked out about it but…” I trailed off, not letting in that I had been one of them. That I had heard the words Krystal had told me and froze, dumbstruck. Had grieved at the very idea, had felt like a fool for how dangerously...attached I had gotten. For how much I had come to care in a place that was ready to take everything from you. 

“There’s some things that I already know…” I garbed myself with the truth. The easiest way to lie to myself. Reasoning. The way it was. The way it would be. Even as desperately as I had fought that before. In this moment...I couldn’t bring myself to challenge him. He gave me a choice. Didn’t he deserve to have his? “It was quiet in my head before I came to Redacre. If it’s quiet again when I leave? That’s just things going back to normal.”

No more Voices. That’s what he wanted. A silent world without the ‘gods’. Without their influence and sway taking over our lives. I’d stepped as much into a nightmare as into a strange fantasy novel. There were perks. There were...friends. But it all came with a cost. It all came with grief.

“I’ve...I’ve had to deal with losing people that are important to me before. And it hurts. But...you can live with it.” I thought back to my brother. I thought back to my dad who was still hadn’t come home. “ You don’t want it. But you can do it. I don’t demand that price of anybody though. I don’t ask anybody to give their life for mine. For anyone’s.”

I just...I don’t want anyone else to die.

My eyes burned. I squeezed them shut and buried my face back in the crook of my arms.

YOU MAY BE THE BEST OF US, CHILD. TELLING THE OLD WORLD IT IS WRONG.

There was comfort in the words, though I felt little of it in the face of my own sorrows. I was merely silent in response. I had nothing else to offer in that moment, and didn’t trust myself to speak further. 

HAVE A CARE NOW, MY SPARROW. YOUNG TRUTH SPEAKERS END UP DEAD.

The chill that slid up my spine had nothing to do with the cool air of the Maze. The shiver morphed into a thread of steel. “They’ll have to catch me first.” I said firmly. The words were braver than I felt. But I also knew that I was never the kind to go without a fight, even if I was afraid.

I WILL HELP YOU AS LONG AS I CAN.

It felt like the final nail in the coffin. An admission that he wouldn’t be around. Not always. I didn’t let myself dwell. Instead I let my words slip back and away from something too emotional. Back to something safer and friendly, ringing false to my own ears, even as the tone was all wrong for the cheer the words should have held.

“You know that any help that you give so far has been...appreciated. You’re one of the best backers this Club has.”

There was so much I could have said instead. Wanted to say. 

I’m sorry.

I hate this.

Please, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to lose someone else I care about.

But I bit them all back. Held my tongue. It would be better this way....wouldn’t it? I had survived this before. Just...now I knew it was coming. Now I knew to brace myself. The world was rarely so kind as to issue a warning for grief. Shouldn’t that have made it easier? Shouldn’t I be thankful?

SURVIVE. A VOICE LIKE YOURS...MUST.

I managed to squeeze out a small, choked “Goodnight.” And then he was gone.

I took a wavering breath and felt the tears begin to track down my face. I balled up tight on the rafters and let myself have that moment. Let myself grieve for the things not said. For the things to come.

Around me, the Maze hummed the song of the Instrument, and the night carried on.

[notgonnarememberthis]

A Dance With Death- Chapter 3

I am back from the void once again. I may or may not have slipped away while watching 10 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy,,,, But I am back just in time for them to announce when season 7 returns. I’ll see y’all there for the end! Until then I’ll be writing my little heart out.

When a brunette knocks on his door he half expected it to be Marcus and Kitty, come to chew him out for skipping out on Detective Cortez. However when he spies the gentle makeup and soft pastel colors he recognizes her as Kitty’s antithesis, Harper. Watson had warned him that she was inviting the young girl to his home as, not only was the girl her old assistant but she seemed to be the only person Watson implicitly trusts in the building. Overloaded with files Harper shuffles into the living room where Watson is seated, reading glasses perched on her nose as she reads through a list on her laptop.

“I grabbed everything I could on who you could’ve pissed off since I started and stopped working for you. Bad news, it’s a lot. Good news, I narrowed it down.” Her tone is light, joking almost. She’s likely dealing with the fact that she could’ve been in that office too. He’s long seen people in denial and he makes a mental note to tell Marcus to get her a recommended therapist. She, however, doesn’t seem to be exhibiting any signs of shock so he let’s her proceed.

While they come over the files he decides to make tea. Pulling a sprig of kale out of the fridge he marches over to Clyde’s terrarium gently placing his lunch in his bowl. He freezes mid-movement as he tunes into the conversation from the other room.

“So…” A gentle tone, likely the young brunette.

“So?” The echoing sentiment confirms that he’s identified the voices correctly. Against the voice echoing in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like Marcus he halts his movements listening in. After all, he won’t get a better opportunity than this to learn about Watson. She’s the one person he’s not been able to read in so long. Microexpressions are controlled, if not they’re at least subdued. Truth be told, it’s remarkable and he finds himself aching to know more, to learn more about her. It’s an urge he hasn’t felt towards an individual in far too long.

“He’s cute.” A moment of silence screams with the image of a quiet stand-off.

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

“All I’m saying is- Hear me out.” Shifting marks her leaning closer. “You haven’t been seeing anyone since Rick. It’s been a year and a half. He’s cute and he has tattoos. It doesn’t have to be a big thing just a little thing or it could be a big thing if you want it to be-”

“Stop.” From his vantage point he can see Watson’s shadow holding up a hand. “I haven’t seen anyone in a year and a half because I’ve been running the NFL story for a year. I’ve been busy.”

“You said the same thing until Rick came along.”

“Enough.” She barks, a tone he’s only heard her use in the office setting. “You forget why we’re here. Someone is trying to kill me, he’s finding who. That’s it.”

“Mhmm.” She sounds relatively unphased by the forcefulness behind the words.

“Rick cheated on me with his ex-wife. He was using me to get married before she could. Everything I thought we had was made up by you and his assistant. You said so yourself.” A huffed breath. “The only person it worked out for was you and him.”

“Not exactly.” Another standoff. “We went different paths.”

“Different paths.”

“We’re playing for the same team?”

“Do you ever speak out of metaphors?” Annoyance laces through Watson’s tone.

“I’m gay.” A shocked beat falls between them. “It ended well at least. We’re still like… chill? That’s beside the point. Look, I just want you to be happy and I know work makes you happy but I also saw you when you were with Rick. You were giggly and soft!”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying! You liked him… Or the him we made up?” She shifts again. “Just give it some thought? I promise no shenanigans.”

The silence that settles over them is much less tense, he can almost picture the small smile on Watson’s face. “He is cute.”

He nearly jumps when the kettle whistles loudly reminding the women that they’re not alone in the house. He shuffles again making himself busy as he grabs mugs and flipping off the boiler. Seemingly satisfied that he’s not listening to them, the two continue on a different, much less interesting conversation.

Gathering the supplies he returns to the living room to continue their search.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Day fades to night and back again. Watson falls asleep in a spare bedroom after he deemed it was far too late and unsafe for her to go home. Marcus drops off a new set of clothes for Watson around seven but doesn’t stick around for long. She wakes and changes without ceremony as it should be.

Around nine Kitty leaves for the office of Colm McAllister with the consult of Marcus to meet her there. He and Watson are to analyze from home, much to his chagrin. Thanks to their hacker collective Everyone they’ve gained access to the cameras in the room of the interview. Should Colm be their man they’ll be able to know within the hour.

Thus he finds himself set up with Watson watching one of many monitors as Mr. McAllister fervently denies any claim that he is trying to set a hit on Ms. Watson’s life. The aforementioned sits in the chair beside him, legs crossed over another. She’d unbuttoned her suit jacket to get more comfortable as her eyes dart across the screen hanging on every word said.

“Mr. McAllister, were you aware of the fact that Ms. Watson was attacked in her office yesterday?”

“This is getting nowhere.” He huffs. He’d believed the night before that Colm McAllister was their man after some digging. When Watson uncovered that he was using bribery to pull potential athletes to his team he lost everything: his job, his wife, and reputation he spent his entire life to build was vanished and he was shunned in the world of sports. However, from viewing the clips it was all too clear that Mr. McAllister is a coward of a man.

“He’s lying.” His head snaps to Watson whose eyes haven’t moved from the screen. She watches with an intensity he rarely sees in Kitty. It’s interesting.

“Why’s that?” He could see the signs for himself but he finds himself compelled by her. By what she knows.

“His body is turned towards the door so he clearly wants them to leave, which would be normal except his arms are crossed. He’s also looked at the clock on his desk five times in the past two minutes.” She stands hands fixing the wrinkles in her clothes absentmindedly. “He knows something but he isn’t saying what.”

“He’s not your attempted killer.”

“God no.” She scoffs. “His hands are shaking, sign of early onset Parkinson’s if I had to guess. There’s no way he would’ve been able to fire that gun and hit my window accurately.”

“Remarkable.” He nods. These were signs and behaviors it took him months to get Kitty to pick up on and she just named them all off the top of her head. He looks to her with a deep sort of fascination. Her eyes catch his and he can see the shock register in her features. Briefly he wonders when the last time she received a compliment on her work. “You’re remarkable.” He emphasizes, despite his best judgement.

“You don’t need to do that.” His eyebrows furrow at her tone. She sounds almost annoyed by his comment. “Don’t flatter me.”

“I assure you Watson, I only state facts. I think you’re extraordinary.”

Her lips part, eyes darting across his features searching for any answer to the questions that lie beneath her throat. He’s more prepared this time, when she crosses the distance of the room to him. When two perfectly manicured hands take his face into their touch. When her lips crash against his sending every nerve in his body into hyperdrive.

Together they stumble across the room, hands excitedly exploring. He needs to know so much about her. He needs to know how her hair feels between his fingers, the sounds he can tempt from her throat, the feel of her skin against his. Her fingers tug at his shirt pulling it from the tuck as her back collides with the wall. Their feet jarr at the sudden stop but their movements do not cease. His fingers move from her back to her hips feeling the tantalizing flesh barely brushing his fingertips. In a desperate need for air his lips move to her jaw, huffing against her skin. High pitched sighs escape her throat, the interview long forgotten in the heat of passion.

He pulls from her suddenly, the gears in his mind turning all over again. Her fingers are undoing his buttons quickly. “I don’t want to stop.” He groans against her skin. She laughs, a seductive noise against the shell of his ear. “I don’t want to stop.” It’s a plea this time, begging her to be the sane one. God he needs her to stop him before he acts foolish. He knows she won’t when her teeth nip at the spot beneath his jaw, threatening to pull him into the abyss. Her skin is so soft, like velvet but her lips burn him. He catches her hands halting the movement. His eyes meet hers once again as he rests her forehead against his.

In the end it’s him who breaks the connection. Against every fiber of his being he steps away from her. “Are you serious?” She scoffs. He can’t face her now. Not with the rejection he saw in her eyes, the hurt of being denied again. He crossed a line and all he can think about is how he wishes to touch her again. Guilt laces around his throat and pulls tightly.

“I need to focus.” His words come out cold, detached.

“You’re right. We need to figure out what Mr. McAllister knows and-”

“We don’t need to do anything.” He snaps. “No offense Ms. Watson but right now I need peace and quiet, or did you forget that it’s your life that is at stake?” He pushes her away because he can’t risk getting too close. He can’t become attached. Not now. He needs to focus so that he can find her attempted killer.

“No. No I didn’t.” Her heels echo clearly off the Brownstone floor as she grabs her coat. The slam of the door pierces him to the core but he must remain unphased.

He takes a deep breath delving back into his work.

[faded-coat-of-blue]

d&d ask meme - 4.

4 - My current campaign.CAMPAIGN 1:I mean you literally DM it you of all people should know what's going on. Baaaasically it's called 'Apogee of Ages' (rad name) and heroes haven't been necessary for, like, a BILLION years but now they are and oh shit. I believe the rough technology for the setting is both high fantasy and also the 1910s (think I'm getting that right). Also it's the first thing I've written fanfic for in ages and I'm v proud of it.PCs:Colm Blackmore - It me. Trash paladin who lost all his cash because he slept in a ditch and rolled a 0 on perception. Has a rad magical horse called Hronrād. Learning to have caution and also to care for new people.Ta Li Sa Kohaku - Also trash just a different trash from Colm. Wild magic sorcerer, and it shows. Pyromaniac with an unhealthy thirst for knowledge who beats themselves up about everything and shouldn't. The 'Heroes of Fire and Blood' is not a good party name. Also a heathen which is bad. Gwyn - A heathen which is bad. He's also trash but again a different flavour of trash. Old One warlock who is metaphorically horny for anything Lovecraftian. Looks like the voice of reason but isn't. At all.Sha Re - Looks like the voice of reason and is. At all. Literally the only sensible one in this entire campaign which is a problem objectively speaking. Old as fuck and knows basically everything. Wizard (not sure what school). Has never taken a single point of damage in his life.Adalet - I finally learnt to spell her name so now I can tell you with utmost confidence that she is also trash. Gave up all of her traumatic memories as a 'sacrifice' which was smart af. Once got possessed by a ghost and forced to relive a horrific house fire. Colm has never laser-beamed her. Raven Queen warlock.Calia (sp.?) - New rogue member of the party. Seems very polite and nice and kind but honestly I don't trust like that. We met them in Verskia and honestly nothing good has come out of that city yet.Camera Girl - I forget her name but I know it's a brand of camera. Cool monk who had an alcoholic teacher but had never touched it herself - until she met this party. Like with Gwyn, looks reasonable but is fully OK with facilitating shenanigans. Has never rolled below a 15 except ONCE and it was very very notable. Now likes to read a lot more than she used to.Ska Rev (retired) - Badass half-orc cleric with a glowing shield and a limited vocabulary. I cannot stress how well she was RPed re: the vocabulary it was amazingly done. Once just fucking climbed an entire kraken. Broke Ta Li's fingers which resulted in major major infighting.Selise / Celise (retired) - ALSO TRASH but we miss her loads. A rich brawl child. Will fight anyone and anything. Barbearian. Hooked up with an adventurer from a different party and ditched us for them. Fought Colm a lot.CAMPAIGN 2:OK so I'm also DMing a Curse of Strahd game for some other friends and it's chaos, PCs keep dying or touching clearly evil shit and hence getting incredibly corrupted. One player has been playing two separate characters for the past year or so.PCs:Puff of House Magic Dragon: Yes you heard that right. Alcoholic pyromaniac draconic sorcerer, Puff loves fire but also for some reason has a Staff of Frost. Currently covered in fur due to touching something he shouldn't and also I believe he currently has no eyes. Has killed two separate party members. Actually has a super tragic backstory and loves Tyalus.Tyalus - Puff's bf. Also played by the same player as Puff. A brad. Tyalus plays the bagpipes and also his surname is an anagram of 'bagpipes'. Tyalus is actually vaguely close to being sensible but also has the same furry-and-eyeless deal going on as Puff.Kara - Relatively new to the party, Kara is a paladin sent to track down another party member. Sadly she turned up and they were dead so now she's stuck with this lot. Recently came into ownership of a massive stone golem which she immediately named 'Lazarus' for some fucking reason.Ur'Go - Half-orc warlock. Along with Puff, one of only two of the original group currently left adventuring. Ur'go has a rad eyepatch now and also is a very very good cook. Is very much enjoying being invisible. Quiet, but pretty much the backbone of the team. Also she has skeletal wings now and is on a diet of bones and grave dirt don't question it.Barney 'Earbender'/'Kinslayer' Myastan - Seriously what is it with these dragonborn and their horribly tragic backstories. The only recorded instance of a hot pink dragonborn, Barney has recently developed a 19th century British accent. He is a frenzy barb who bakes cupcakes as therapy. All diplomacy is done via cupcakes. Have you heard of him? He currently looks like a corpse as a sacrifice to enable him to resurrect his little sister.Bella Myastan - Barney's little sister, the newest member of the group. Also a dragonborn with a tragic backstory. A life cleric. Enthusiastic and optimistic to a stupidly cute degree like what the fuck this literal child is not ready for the horrors of Barovia.Kithri Hillgallow (temporarily retired) - Kithri's player is currently living in Russia so she herself is trekking in the Barovian mountains / hyperbolic time chamber for the time being. The most wholesome land druid you'll ever meet, this halfling cartographer is like the most Hobbit-esque character in the world I swear down to you, no tragic backstory, loves Sunday roast. She recently acquired a rad hummingbird tattoo.Asher Martikov (guest character) - Still positive despite having lived in Barovia all her life. Cleric-in-training from a family of wereravens who, in her first and only combat, used a barrel of explosive goo as her hiding place from which she was firing her crossbow. Always amiable towards the party.Jeff (deceased) - Strahd's #1 fangirl. Incredibly unlucky both in game and out. Tiefling paladin who purchased a cool porcelain mask shortly before her accidental death at the burning hands of Puff. Her resurrection ritual failed, and in her honour, the party melted her down into Jeff soup. There is no way this can come back to bite them.To-ran (retired) - A peaceful human monk who wields a stale baguette and is weirdly good at making statues out of clay. Once even used this talent to smuggle two dead bodies out of a town. Touched 9 cursed items in under an hour, and is now incredibly evil. Abandoned the party recently in the dead of night.Lorelei (deceased) - One of the four originals (Puff, Jeff, Ur'Go, Lorelei), Lorelei took no shit from anyone, was crafty and greedy, and didn't trust a single member of the group, especially not Puff. Her greed was her downfall, as, in the Amber Temple, she split away from the group, only to be struck down by a powerful foe...I think that literally took me an hour to write hope it answers it!

[lpwarwick]

The 2019 batch of Oscar-nominated short films in the animated and live-action categories share a theme of disconnection. The animated shorts have a sunnier attitude about this painful state, demonstrating how divides can be bridged. The live-action films, meanwhile, forge ahead into darkness. They ask: What if the connection severs? What it if never clicks? What if two worlds remain unbridgeable?

Of the animated set, Bao (8 min.) edges closest to the precipice. Writer-director Domee Shi, the first woman to direct a short film for Pixar, startled audiences who went to see Incredibles 2 in theaters and got the delicious, offbeat Bao as an appetizer.

The protagonist is a lonely Chinese-Canadian woman who makes a dumpling that comes to life. She raises the dumpling baby as her son; but as he quickly grows, he also grows apart from her, rejecting the mother-son mealtimes he used to enjoy when he was small for time spent with friends and soon a fiancee. Terrified by how fast their connection is fraying, the mother makes a decision that is at once metaphorically brilliant and twisted on a raw emotional level. The ending redresses the situation and restores the bond. And yet the pain of their schism lingers.

In Late Afternoon (10 min.), an elderly Irish woman straddles a rift between her memories and reality. The tension arises from whether the woman will close the gap or fall through, powered by writer-director Louise Bagnall's expressionistic and mutable style. The woman's past swirls through her present in colors that unfurl into shapes, a kaleidoscopic beauty that alternatively confuses and clarifies the life before her eyes. A plaintive violin score from Irish musician Colm Mac Con Iomaire runs through both worlds, making a reconnection, once it crystallizes, all the sweeter.

Weekends (16 min.) also toggles between two worlds, telling the story of a boy in 1980s Toronto who routinely crosses the chasm of his parents' divorce. Spending weekdays with his mother in the country and weekends with his father in the city, the boy learns how to connect with them in different ways based on their differences as people and how to reconcile his parents' differences within himself. At first, the duality is stark. The mother's house is melancholy and muted, while the father's apartment thrums with urban noise and garish colors. The eventual blending of these environments from the boy's perspective is a perfect match for the talents for filmmaker Trevor Jimenez. His cloudy and jittery animation style is as striking in establishing the binaries within the boy as it is poignant in dismantling them.

Though closer to a Pixar film in its glossy style and tone, One Small Step (8 min.) from filmmakers Andrew Chesworth and Bobby Pontillas is another heart tugger about a parent-child relationship. The narrative centers on a Chinese-American girl and her single father, a shoemaker, who supports his daughter's dream of becoming an astronaut. But as she grows up, she struggles in school and drifts apart from her dad, to the point that their connection, along with her vision for herself, shatters. Similar to Bao, but more like the sci-fi weepies Contact and Interstellar, this film has a bittersweet ending and a wholehearted message: that the bond between a loving parent and child is otherworldly in its might.

Animal Behaviour (14 min.), the only outright comedy of the bunch, posits that what separates us from each other is also what disconnects us from ourselves: addictions, compulsions, anxieties, and so on. Thus, five animals meet in group therapy to discuss their hang-ups. A cat can't stop licking himself. A pig can't stop eating. A praying mantis eats her lovers. A leech has separation anxiety. A Bigfoot-like creature has anger issues. A bird under hypnosis recalls how he pushed his baby brother out of their nest in a jealous rage when they were hatchlings, with the defense: "He was eating my worms!"

Codirectors Alison Snowden and David Fine, while uninventive in their animation style, are canny about the disconnect that occurs when primal urges overtake rational thought. Much of the film's humor stems from the animals' hypocrisy; they can see problems in others, but are either oblivious to or unwilling to acknowledge similar defects in themselves.

The live-action short Detainment (30 min.) also contains blame shifting, though the circumstances couldn't be grimmer. In 1993, two ten-year-old boys kidnapped, tortured, and murdered a toddler in Liverpool, England. This film focuses on the boys when they were first detained by the police and interviewed in separate locations with their parents by their sides. The conversations, based on public records and the interview transcripts, are extremely disturbing. The reason is fourfold: the boys either don't understand or don't care about the depths of their brutality (probably both), they are breathtaking liars, the parents are shaken by what they've wrought, and the actors who play the boys are outstanding.

But if writer-director Vincent Lambe's goal was to unnerve his audience, this was a cheap shot, and he should have made a different movie. What Lambe considers but leaves unplumbed is how children are more easily forgiven for smudging the line between right and wrong, and how adults too easily let them. This disconnection is ripe for a wider-reaching documentary or fictionalized narrative film. But as a shallow reenactment, this movie adds nothing to the tragedy.

A better film about two boys with a shaky sense of reality and consequences is Fauve (17 min.), which in French means "wild beast." Montreal-based filmmaker Jeremy Comte crafts a remarkable portrait of inseparable friends, preteens who get off on tricking each other. For example, the smaller one pretends to break his leg and the taller one, skinny and shirtless, calls his bluff. It goes on like this for a while, the boys roving from an abandoned train to a sun-soaked field to harsher environs I won't spoil here. Suffice it to say that Comte knows how to snap a connection and leave it pulsing like a phantom limb.

So too does the Spanish filmmaker Rodrigo Sorogoyen, as evidenced by his short film Madre (19 min.). A woman stops by her apartment with her mother and answers a phone call from her ex, Ramon. Their six-year-old son is on the line, saying Ramon has left him on an empty beach somewhere in France or Spain, he's not sure which. The woman hands the phone to her mother and calls a mutual friend and then the police.

The film contains no cuts and no close-ups. The camera stays wide, only pushing closer when the woman's desperation peaks. It follows her around the apartment as she paces, pleading to her most beloved to keep talking, to stay on the line—even as his battery dies, his reception drops to one bar, and a strange man approaches. Though mostly confined to one bright space, Madre welcomes darkness, punctuated in the end by a dropped call's sickening beep.

Marguerite (19 min.), written and directed by Marianne Farley, is about a woman at the end of her life contemplating a connection she never made. The woman is dying of kidney disease, and her only earthly bond, it seems, is with her caretaker. When she learns that her caretaker is a lesbian, she turns to an old photo album filled with memories of her best friend: the one who got away because she never admitted her true feelings. Later, she asks her caretaker, "What's it like to make love to a woman?"

The film could have dipped into darker territory from here, but Farley demurs. Instead, the sadness deepens, grows tender like so many bruises. It's rare to get a second chance in life. If you're lucky, you get a shadow of it.

The best of the live-action films, Skin (20 min.), ups the ante to examine one of the most unfortunate outcomes of disconnection: violent fear of the other. A sweet-natured boy looks up to his father (Jonathan Tucker), mother (Danielle Macdonald), and their friends, all of whom are skinheads. He joins his parents at the supermarket and sees a black man in another checkout line; they smile at each other. The father sees this interaction. He calls his friends and they beat the man nearly to death in the parking lot. The man's wife and son watch, scream, and cry from inside their car.

In this movie, as in life, a disconnection is often a connection too. When the black boy watches the white boy drive away with the attackers, he sees both a connection in their shared age and the most profound disconnection making sense fully, perhaps for the first time. Other examples abound, but the most striking is the way the black man's friends execute a reprisal that this critic in no way saw coming.

Written and directed by Guy Nattiv, and based on an original idea by Jaime Ray Newman, Skin has a tight structure and a perfect ending. If it were published as a short story, it would win many a literary prize. As a short film, it certainly deserves an Oscar.

[anthonybialy]

Red Eyed

What are libertarian-ish night creatures supposed to do now: be respectable?  Red Eye is ending for reasons more mysterious than the fact it made the air at all.  The asylum for those allergic to both Nancy Pelosi and daylight is being cleared via eminent domain.  Soon, another very important rerun of a show from hours before will run on a news channel.  Why would Fox News share anything fresh?  It's not their business or anything.  Eyes will remain as red, just without a glowing screen as a remedy.

Red Eye served a faction of conservatives who treated being up too late as a virtue.  It's a valid lifestyle choice, especially for those who live on their own terms.  As one might expect, anyone living so idiosyncratically tends to want government to bother only terrorists while leaving Americans the hell alone.  Daytime snoozers are bothered by debt and mandates, not pot or porn.

The Bart Simpson of Fox News found an eccentric audience that had been waiting for a similarly bizarre program.  Sad fans reminisce about jokes that were delightfully tasteless in the best way.  Like Joel Hodgson said about Mystery Science Theater 3000, the right people will get this. Our interactive world enabled ardent fans to tweet approval and commentary right along.  The muscle memory for typing “#Redeye” is still ingrained.

Fittingly, the smart-ass small-government fan found a spiritual home during an hour when normal people would be scared to visit a bus station. Degenerate insomniacs were innately pleased by irreverent takes on our world's exhausting news.  Nothing was cathartic like a venue for mocking the sort of pompous newsmakers who were in bed by sunset.

As the last episode approaches, I can insufferably boast of watching from the first.  I expected a Hannity & Colmes repeat over a decade ago on some random weeknight and was instead greeted by a strange and wonderful off-kilter camera shot of a smirking host and panelists.  It was as if Fox News had read my mind: I had always hoped they'd offer a new cheeky transmission for the darkness crowd instead of a staid rerun from a decent hour.  I figured they stole my thoughts with News Corp's mind ray.  But it was okay as long as there was something fun to watch.  Besides, the brain beam tickled.

I didn't recognize original proprietor Greg Gutfeld by name but did know of his surreal unsigned copy in Stuff Magazine.  The demented take on politics was simultaneously incisive, as a person who took nothing seriously took on everything serious.  Study hall would've been intolerable without wise guys.

But Fox is done with being interesting.  Rumor holds that Tucker Carlson's debates with hand-picked lunatics designed to make his primness seem reasonable will sadly occupy the hour while never filling it.  I'll double-check Monday and turn it off four seconds after 3 a.m.  Going full circle sometimes forms a zero.

The modest thrill of seeing one's name on TV at 3:57 a.m. is all that's left.  I'll always cherish a favorite cable personality reading my silly content on-air twice.  For one, I invented the Red Eye drink. Greg read my email in, can this be right, October 2007 after soliciting entries to create an official cocktail for a show that was begging for one.  I suggested a concoction I named Unicorn Juice (rum and Coke with vanilla syrup). Like the tagline said, it's as sweet as ombudsman Andy Levy and goes down easier than then-sidekick Bill Schulz. The ensuing shot of the latter with his arms folded and shaking his head like he wanted to murder whoever wrote it is one you may recognize as the greatest moment of my life.

I was additionally lucky enough to hear my tweet read during the thousandth episode after solicitations for suggestions on how to spend the evening.  Mine was fittingly perverse. Unnatural pride in momentarily hearing one's name is a byproduct of zealous devotion.  Also, I cherish the tangible reward that accompanied winning two of Greg's drawings, which he used to send to those who suggested titles he liked via email.  The masterpieces feature Unicorn Jones and Fluffy McNutter, the show's cartoon mascots who are very real to the likes of Greg and me. I had them framed.  Of course.

Fox News has to fund Bill O'Reilly's lawsuits somehow.  I guess the highest-rated show possible at three in the freaking morning was a hemorrhage on a global conglomerate's budget.  Obeying the calculator means disregarding the soul.  Sure, it's cheaper to rerun something from the night before even if fewer watch because recycling removes one show's expenses.  But the production cost reduction may be costly.  The network just ended a cheap experimental training ground. They found one of their 5 p.m. weekday and primetime weekend presenters by letting him figure it out during the weirdo hour.  Fox & Friends is disturbed in a different sense.

Like Bill after his visits to Switzerland, my viewing habits had already begun to transition.  I watched the entire Trump News Channel less as it made North Korean state TV look nuanced by comparison.  And familiar Red Eye guests appeared less frequently, replaced by Coys and Vances who didn't spark the same chemistry with me.  I'm glad it was the unnervingly wholesome funnyman Tom Shillue replacing Greg if the move had to be made, but news executives didn't ask my opinion.

At least memories of references will continue. Countless segments and incidents on this little late-night show with the same budget as Shepard Smith's pocket square allocation inspired so much mirth.  The Notorious P.A.B., Robot Theater, and Pinch the Talking Newspaper are shorthand for moments that outsiders roll their eyes at while fans giggle like mental patients.  Social media camaraderie among those with a taste for the twisted made the nightly crawlspace tour even more fun.

Some questions will never be answered. I'll always wonder what happened to frequent ad break regulars Cancer Peggy and Catheter Holly, Greg's stunted half-brother Gunnar, and frequent early guest Ron Geraci.  At the same time, I'm grateful for having discovered talented people like Patti Ann Browne, Lauren Sivan, Terry Schappert, Mike Baker, and Joe DeVito on the unhinged panel.  They've all been kind to fans even when restraining orders would be appropriate

I can't think of another forum that allowed the likes of Kurt Loder, Jim Norton, and Andrew W.K. to discuss the day's issues, at least not off the top of my head.  And the initial broadcast was the first time I encountered Andrew Breitbart, the man more responsible than anyone for both today's brand of subversive conservatism and Red Eye getting on air.

Getting locked in the basement can be its own adventure.  It felt like the right place.  Every surreal hour seemed like it embodied New York City's openness to absurdity. Staying up when the normals were sleeping responsibly simply confirmed it.  The draw was clear even in the dead of night.  I didn't live on the same island as Red Eye's studio when the show started, but I do now.

The evening excitement is about to end as time marches on.  Soon, some faceless FNC Trump-humping hour won't have to move their furniture off the set every night.  The quirky culture both spurred and revealed by the most refreshing offering ever shared on cable news will experience a diaspora now, but every fan will take the rebellious attitude along.

Like the Velvet Underground's fans all starting bands, Red Eye's devotees will keep skewering pomposity through snark.  If it's your only weapon, hone it.  Now, I can only indulge in YouTube playlists of the show that made staying up too late fun and wander aimlessly through Bryant Park.  Red Eye is ending.  The amazing thing was that it ever begun.