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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'When Cillian Murphy took to the podium during Sunday night’s Golden Globes, his nose smudged in his wife’s lipstick, it was as if a door had opened on this Hollywood Neverland and an ambassador for the real world had stepped through.

Accepting the Best Actor in a Drama award for Oppenheimer, Murphy wasn’t so much un-starry as stonkingly everyday. Here was a normal person who had somehow beamed into peak Tinseltown and, if pleased, was also clearly a bit perplexed by it all.

The Oppenheimer win has made Murphy a frontrunner for the Oscars. In all likelihood, he will be up against a creepy Barry Keoghan in Saltburn, an overblown Bradley Cooper in Maestro, and a fervent Leonard DiCaprio in Killers of the Flower Moon. With the arguable exception of the grandstanding Cooper, all would be worthy winners. And yet, underdogs everywhere will be cheering for Murphy. He’s spent the past 20 years negotiating Hollywood on his own terms and has rejected Tinseltown’s showiness in favour of staying grounded and playing the long game.

Murphy always wanted to be an actor rather than a star. Such a choice could easily have condemned him to a lifetime of supporting roles. Or a hiatus in TV, to which he seemed exiled when he settled in for a long run as Tommy Shelby in Birmingham noir Peaky Blinders.

But his decision to turn away from flashy parts has proved inspired. He is that rarest of things: an experienced A-list actor who comes to the Oscars without baggage. Unlike DiCaprio, he hasn’t had to overcome a past life as a teen pin-up. Nor does he have to justify a lucrative stint in comic book films, as Cooper has with his time as Rocket Racoon in Guardians of the Galaxy.

Above all, Murphy goes into Oscar season as an antidote to the “look at me!” culture of the social media era. In an age when fame is regarded as the ultimate commodity – more important than awards or critical acclaim – Murphy would rather let his work speak for itself. He lives humbly in suburban Dublin with his wife and two children – and his great passion outside of acting is music, as demonstrated by his semi-regular presenting slot on BBC 6 Music.

That’s lifetimes removed from Hollywood, with its self-mythologising and turbo-charged fakeness. It is also of a piece with his career since he broke through playing a survivor of the zombie apocalypse in Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later. Ever since, he has chosen his jobs thoughtfully. In so doing, he has assembled a body of work of which he can be proud.

He hasn’t been above popcorn. He was a memorable villain in Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins, where he played the Scarecrow as a trippy nightmare. But even when shooting for the box office, Murphy has been studiedly un-starry. Careful to keep his ego in check, he’s often happy in an ensemble – hugging the background in A Quiet Place II and settling for an extended cameo in Nolan’s Dunkirk, where he was content to let Harry Styles and Tom Hardy hog the spotlight.

Hog it they did – yet it was Murphy who proved to be in it for the long road. Because he could go into Oppenheimer without a Hollywood aura, he disappeared into the role. If hardly obscure, he nonetheless assimilated fully into the part. Throughout that film, you were aware of its stars. Florence Pugh and Emily Blunt doing their best with under-written female characters. Robert Downey Jr trying to pretend he hadn’t spent a decade as Iron Man.

Murphy, by contrast, split the acting atom. He vanished into Oppenheimer with a performance that exuded humility and sincerity. Bookies have now installed him as a favourite for the Best Actor Oscar. If he wins, it would be a victory for knowing who you are and what you stand for and believing good work has value beyond short-term acclaim. Above all, his success shows that it is possible to stay grounded while scaling Hollywood’s giddiest heights.'

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angel-inked · 2 months ago

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Winding down with them

Just time spent relaxing with the boys

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @hoodeddreams13 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

The rainy morning.

Thunder rumbled quietly outside as droplets raced each other down the window, the soft whirring of passing cars added to the ambience of the rain drumming on various different surfaces, ranging from the roads to the sidewalks to the rooftops. Well the weather made a dreary morning for those who had jobs to get to, safe to assume the weather reflected their mood, others took this morning as a sign that it was time to have a lie in. A well-deserved lie in, Tommy thought, sinking deeper into the pillow being held in place by his brawny arms. A dull ache settled around his right eye, the blow he took from his opponent's knee had caused some deep colored bruising, but any tension he'd held onto from last night was currently being massaged away by your hand wandering up and down his back. He released a satisfied sigh as you applied gentle pressure at the top of his spine with your thumb and ran it down the middle of his expansive muscle mass. Occasionally your mouth would make contact with the back of his neck, kissing and suckling, pulling away before you left any marks, neither of you were in the mood, let alone had the energy for that sort of thing. You nuzzled into him, slowly moving up from the base of his thick neck up to where his hair started and back down.

Tommy was vaguely aware of the sounds of the movie you put on coming from the laptop speakers, something about Virginia moonshiners waging war against twisted and corrupted law enforcement, truth be told he hadn't exactly followed most of the plot, his consciousness had been floating somewhere between sleep and barely awake at most due to the slow pace of your touch. Last he remembered was thinking about was how he related to the youngest of the three brothers, who were at the front line of all the fighting. He knew what it felt like to feel as though you were living in the shadow of your older sibling and often wished that could've been the only complaint he had from his childhood. At least in this moment, he felt as far removed from his past as he felt he could get. Your hand continued its path up and down, your mouth continued to caress his skin, and your warm breath and body against his in the bed remained one of his favorite sensations in the world. All the horrors he'd experienced, during his time as a US Marine and as a kid, were worth it in comparison, he found he was glad the initial internal kamikaze mission he'd entered the military with fell through.

He felt the skin of your cheek press against his shoulder, he heard you release a soft sigh of pleasure, and all his sleep drunk mind could think was that he couldn't be bothered to move. Your arm snaked its way around his bare torso and the muscles in one of your legs stretched lazily as it splayed across his, like it had the right to be there, truth be told, it did. On top of what he thought to be music playing over the credits, Tommy could hear your soft humming, could feel the vibration of your vocal chords in your throat against his skin. Between the soothing sound pulling him closer and closer to sleep, and the rain still plummeting down outside, straight and silvery, like a punishment of steel rods beating on the roof. That thing that grew inside of him as a boy, a seething rage that he tapped in the cage and when his dad went too far and Tommy used what the old man had taught him against his teacher, that thing that usually wreathed around in his chest had settled, still there, but settled.

The seaside.

The seaside was surprisingly sparse with people. The sun beating down had almost everyone who was there seeking refuge in the water, which remained cold as if it were intent on defying the sun. The soft white sand greedily soaked up the sun's rays as you hauled a pail of water across it, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. You had your sights set on your fiance, napping the afternoon away in the shade of a tree. He was in for a rather rude awakening. You almost felt a little bad as you approached him, the content expression of peacefulness on his face, the way his full pink lips were slightly parted in sleep, a part of you wanted to kiss them and another part wanted to see the shock on his face from receiving an ice cold shower of sea water. Both parts won out eventually. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, pulling back with a grin as he, even mostly in his sleep, instinctively tried to follow your lips. That grin widened as you lifted the pail up and turned it over, dumping the contents onto his head.

Farrier jolted awake, "Gah!" He sputtered in surprise, wiping water from his face with the back of his hand as you doubled over laughing. "You little..." Farrier exclaimed, and you took off down the shoreline as he got up to chase after you, laughing and dodging his first attempt to grab you. He caught up to you eventually, "You think you're clever?" He laughed as he slung you over his shoulder. "Tom!" You squealed amongst laughing fits, wriggling in his grip. "No, you're not getting away that easy." He grinned as he tightened his hold, hauling you into the sea and tossing you into the water to give you a taste of your own prank.

You surfaced with a loud gasp, the cold water feeling like it was seeping into your very being, you splashed him in the face once more for retaliation. Farrier laughed again, shaking the water from his head in a manner similar to that of his black and white border collie, Confetti, after she had just had a dip in the pond, pulling you into his arms and flush against his chest. "Think I was missing my alarm clock, did you?" He asked with a grin, nuzzling his face into your soaked hair. You pulled back slightly to stick your tongue out at him in a pout, "Cheeky." He murmured with an easy smile, guiding your head back to his chest.

Too crowded.

Fall harvest, celebrated with a barn dance, a ruckus rising hoedown. Forrest hated it, how ever good for business it was. He hated it. A whole horde of people, dancing, touching, socializing, most would be drunk off illegal liquor, his illegal liquor, before the night was half over. Call it what you will, but being in a crowded building made him feel like he was suffocating. So, he parked himself on a bail of straw by the entrance. The fresh night air felt blissful in his lungs, combined with the smoke of the smoldering cigar he held between calloused fingers. Several party goers greeted him as expected. He was well known for what he considered rather undesirable reasons. The idiots, he thought, were the ones who stopped and tried for conversation, only earning a grunt here and a measuring look here and there before being hauled back off into the crowd. Closing his eyes and exhaling a smoke cloud sharply as he leaned his head back against the wall behind him. A few deep breaths before his hazel orbs flickered open again, staring directly up at the harvest moon. He wondered for a moment if he was even needed here. If not for keeping his brothers in check, he wouldn't be. With all the alcohol involved, Jack couldn't handle Howard on his own, not that he could handle the man particularly well sober either. Then he began to wonder if his older brother was ever truly sober. He shook his head at himself, feeling kinda stupid for wondering that, of course he wasn't.

The crowd emerged from the barn just as it had disappeared inside. the only difference that occurred to Forrest was that they were headed in the opposite direction. The music was done, but the festivities were far from over. He stretched his legs out straight, grunting quietly in satisfaction, then standing with another low sound, this one coming out as a strained groan. He was used to feeling older than he was, this eventful life he'd gotten himself into, It'd be the death of him sooner or later. He reached a hand behind himself to brush off whatever straw was clinging to his brown corduroy pants and then straightened up the rest of the way. He took a few steps toward the crowd, stopping at the edge of it, scanning the flow of people for his brothers, and finding them within a few minutes. Spotting Howard above the crowd was fairly easy with his height, Jack was trailing along behind silently with his head down, glancing up at Forrest like a child who had just been caught mid-squirmish. There was still a part of Forrest that was tucked away somewhere far in the back that wished Jack didn't look at him as such, but someone had to step up, and he wasn't going to chance leaving that to Howard. The middle brother eyed the empty wooden crate in Jack's hands, "Go on." he waved him off with one hand, and the other reached for the crate. Jack looked up at him with wide questioning eyes, "Well, you wanna run around, don't ya?" Forrest asked, and he didn't have to ask twice.

Howard guffawed as he watched Jack scamper away, Forrest shook his head at both of them for the umpteen time. His eyes landed on a blonde, seemingly conversing with a friend. "Who's that?" He asked, inclining his head toward the pair. "Patricia Holliday, she's the mayor's daughter from a couple counties over," Howard answered, Forrest turned to him, how Howard always seemed to know everyone, and their mother was beyond him. not bringing the same warm body home twice probably had something to do with that he figured. "You're gonna need a crowbar if you wanna get inside her, baby brother." Howard smiled, Forrest roughly punched his shoulder for his rude comment. "I'm not looking at her, dumbass!" He barked, loud enough that his voice carried to someone never intended to hear. "Does that mean you're lookin' at my friend?" A voice asked sweetly, sounding particularly amused. Forrest turned to the voice and found himself face to face with a grinning Patricia Holliday. "Um..." Forrest grumbled, removing his hat and stiffly nodding a greeting to Patricia and then to her friend, mentally cursing Howard, who appeared to be enjoying his baby brother's increased awkwardness with a grin. "Hey Howard!" Patricia beamed up at the eldest happily. "Y/n... you don't mind if I leave you with Forrest, do you? I think Howard and I have some catching up to do." She said, tucking herself under Howard's arm, her head barely reaching his shoulder, and smirked up at him as she pulled him into her with an arm around his midsection. "Sure, why not? Besides, he's cute." You grinned, watching with satisfaction as Forrest flushed pink.

You linked your arm with his, feeling him tense against your side, managing to get a distance of what you thought to be out of earshot of Howard and Patricia before Forrest decided to stop dead in his tracks. "Where in, and I do beg your pardon, the hell are you so intent on dragging me off to?" He asked. "Anywhere away from Patricia and that brother of yours, if they're 'catching up' the way I think they are, I have no interest in being anywhere near them." You explained, noting how Forrest seemed to relax once you had let go of his arm. He merely shrugged in response, "Guess I've heard enough of Howard to not think about it." He murmured, and you cocked your head to the side as you narrowed your eyes. "Living together does that." He added because that deserved a little more eloquence. "Alright then," you said, silence taking hold as you wondered, 'what now?'. "Um.." Forrest started hesitantly, looking off in a direction you thought he seemed rather keen on. "Yes?" You asked, trying to gently ease him along. You knew enough from Patricia to understand he wasn't exactly a conversationalist. "Was just thinkin' we could head toward the pond, fewer people there than here I'd reckon." He uttered, refusing to meet your gaze head on. "Let's." You agreed, gesturing for him to lead the way and you became increasingly more intrigued as you watched people make a point of moving out of his way as he did. He did seem as quiet and awkward as Patricia had said he was, but she left out the part about how people would huddle and whisper amongst themselves as he passed by. However, catching glimpses of a jar tucked into the pocket of his sweater gave you a few ideas. Learning about the quaint character hidden under his shyness on a peaceful stroll away from the far too dense crowds sounded miles more interesting than what Patricia and Howard were doing.

Sturgis

His shipment went to Pierre, the capital, but he couldn't pass up stopping off in Sturgis on his way back, not knowing if he would get the chance again. The streets were lined with hordes of bikes, a few classic cars, and some hotrods. Johnny thought the best part to be the feeling swelling in his chest that he was home, though It wasn't the place that felt like home. It was the crowds attending bike week, the fact that nobody gave him anything other than a nod, a wave, a smile, no judgment to be found in their bright expressions. "Hey," a bearded biker called to get his attention, "catch!" He exclaimed, tossing a beer can into Johnny's hands. "Cheers." Johnny said, holding the can up in the air and smiling at the cardboard sign that read, 'Ask me for a beer!' with an arrow pointing at the man's cooler. He continued walking with a relaxed pace, and the smile stayed plastered to his face. He wasn't being othered, alienated, or ignored. He was getting to be 'just Johnny' for a couple of days. Something in that wild streak he never grew out of seemed to settle somewhat in a way, settling happily into the understanding atmosphere. Johnny was welcomed as he was, being who he was for once wasn't leaving him more alone. His smile widened as a couple on a trike waved to him. The man had a prosthetic leg, and the woman was missing an arm, but they couldn't care less because they were happy and enjoying themselves. Of course, everything had a price, and nothing in the world was free. The memory of overhearing his wife discouraging the kids from speaking about who their daddy is like it was something for them to be ashamed of felt like a large fist slamming into his chest. His marriage had been good once upon a time, great even. By the time his firstborn started going to school was when everything went to shit. Suddenly, his wife was more concerned with keeping up the image of a perfect little American family, but apparently, a tattooed biker Johnny didn't fit that image according to her. He pulled the beer out of his back pocket and clutched it to his chest, hopeful the kindness of the man who tossed it to him would seep into him through the aluminum can and bring back the happiness with it.

He forced his legs to move him forward, trying to find something to distract himself with. He noticed a wet T-shirt contest in full swing, which didn't exactly have much to do with bikes, although most that were gawking probably thought the skimpily clad bebes looked better straddling the hunks of metal between their legs, it wasn't hurting anyone, so why not?. He moved on to the burnout contest. That was more to his tastes, standing amongst the crowd watching contestants prepare as much as you could for something like this. The smoke and squealing tires were a welcome distraction, onlookers clapped and hollered, some lewd whistles were thrown around as one of the contestants entered the box with one girl on his bike in front of him and another behind him, Johnny rolled his eyes with a snort, concluding that he was the only one actually looking at the bike instead of the women.

As the sun sunk lower, he found himself sitting on the window ledge of some business, inhaling the tobacco of a freshly lit cigarette, glancing up at the 'no smoking' sign near the entrance with a light scoff, like that was gonna stop him. His coping mechanisms may be worse than his actual problems, but memory keeps tapping a gun against the inside of his skull, demanding the dead be brought back to life. Some dinky sheet of tin wasn't going to stop that either. The rally wasn't a place where rule-followers went, it was a place for people like him. Who really just had a craving to be understood.

#Winding down with them #tommy conlon warrior #farrier dunkirk #forrest bondurant fanfiction #tom hardy #hope you enjoy #mostly fluff #slight angst #happy things are coming i swear!!

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