#early seasons!spence my beloved

[miedei]

nonexistent rizz

the team is shocked to see that… early seasons!spencer pulls?? and he has pulled????

(aka, the team discovers that early seasons!spence has a girlfriend)

a/n: first cm fic!!! super indulgent, deffo way longer than it had to be but I don’t care, I love love love the dynamic of the s1/s2 team and I NEEDED to write it

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), completely inaccurate early 2000s technology i think, cuties being cute, not edited in any way

wc: 2k

part two

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

mlist

“‘O Keefe’s! My wonderful, wonderful sweethearts, we are going out!” The moment the team steps out of the elevator, Penelope is bombarding them, hands moving wildly as words seem to tumble out of her mouth. “And yes, Hotch, I am sure we have no cases lined up yet, and yes, I’m sure JJ can corroborate that the moment she gets to her office and no, you may not stay behind, tonight is compulsory. That stands for you too, Gideon!”

Hotch hasn’t even opened his mouth, shaking his head in defeat as he takes in Garcia’s determined face. Under the watchful eyes of the team, his shoulders slump, a tired hand scrubbing down his face. “Fine. We all have to finish our reports, but if we’re all done in half an hour, we can go. Gideon?” He turns his face, hoping for Gideon to find a way to bunk off, but there’s a glint of amusement in the older man’s eye. “Sounds like there’s no getting out of it.” With that, he walks off, to his office. 

Penelope whoops excitedly, “Okay! That means we’re all going! That’s the first time since Gideon came back,” but her face sets slightly when she meets Spencer’s eye. “No. No, Baby Genius, you will not do this to me,”

“Garcia, I have pl-” “No! You are coming out with us, and we’re going to have a great time, and whatever Russian indie film you were going to watch will still be there for you tomorrow. Okay? No more complaining, baby, you know I won’t listen.” With a pat on his shoulder, she flounces off. Defeated, he doesn’t move from the elevator area, shrugging helplessly when Elle, JJ and Morgan brush past him to the bullpen. 

With a sigh, he takes out his phone, pressing his newly-programmed speed dial and bringing the phone to his ear. From Derek’s vantage point in the bullpen, he can see Spencer, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator doors, and he can see the moment whoever is on the other side picks up. The younger man’s face lights up, like when he’s on the receiving end of a rare Hotch smile out in the field, but more spirited, buoyant. Only snippets of the conversation float in through the slightly-ajar glass doors, but they’re enough to give him pause, and still his fingers above his keyboard.

“...Garcia’s got this plan for us all, and…”

“Yes, I know, I do like going out with them, but that’s not what I wanted to do…”

“...I took the metro tonight, so I think I’ll just… Really? You want to?”

At that point, Spencer turns, his voice muffling, and keeping Derek from his vested interest in his conversation. But what little he heard is more than enough to pique his interest. He flicks a pencil onto Elle’s desk. “Greenaway. You know if pretty boy’s mom is in town or something?” Elle looks up from her monitor, head tilting, “Not that I know of. Besides, doesn’t she not like flying? I don’t think he’d have her come here. Why do you ask?”

Derek doesn’t reply, simply gesturing to the glass doors, where Spencer is walking inside, his mouth twitching to conceal his smile. His steps are measured, like he’s trying to feign calm. He settles at his desk, hunching his back in a way that can’t be comfortable, typing rapidly as his knee jiggles up and down. Elle turns back to Derek, eyes wide with wonder. 

“That is not how you look getting off the phone with your mother.”

The incident is quickly forgotten, however, when the BAU team are crammed into a booth in the back of the low-lit bar. Penelope has roped Hotch into helping her bring drinks back from the bar, and the rest are speaking a little too loudly, arms flinging and bumping into the empty glasses littering the table. 

All except for Gideon, who, despite having had three glasses of whiskey, is still just as calm and observant as he is fully sober. It is this that causes him to zero in on Spencer, sitting across from him, sandwiched between Morgan and the newly-returned Garcia. 

There’s a pink flush across his high cheekbones, and he’s incredibly giggly, all things that are completely expected for him, a few drinks in. However, what the experienced profiler picks up on, are his darting eyes. Spencer can often be found staring into the middle distance, or, since Gideon taught him the importance of building rapport with victims and officers alike, trained steadily on the space between someone’s eyebrows, but this time it’s different.

His eyes flick to whoever’s talking, feigning interest, but every few seconds, it turns back down to his lap, where something is clutched in the hand he keeps under the table. If it were Hotch, Gideon would know with absolute certainty that he was watching his phone, waiting for a text from Haley.

But this is Spencer. The youngest person he knows. The youngest person he knows whose technological knowledge is somehow worse than Gideon’s own. What on earth would have Spencer acting- 

Oh. Gideon nearly gasps at Spencer’s movements. On his fifteenth peek down at his lap, Spencer stiffens, then draws his hand up from his lap to get closer to his face. It is his phone, and Spencer Reid has somehow learned to text as quickly as Morgan does. His thumbs fly over the buttons on his phone, and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads on his face.

Gideon’s eyes furrow, and he can’t hold back from nudging Hotch’s shoulder, pointing in Spencer’s direction. Hotch pulls himself away from his conversation with JJ, and Gideon can see his expression morph from mild interest, to confusion, to complete bewilderment. After a beat, his face turns to meet Gideon’s and his normally stoic demeanor is shaken, eyes wide. 

Spencer, however, doesn’t even notice his mentors’ faces, still tapping away at his phone and craning his neck to look around the bar. 

It’s a while later, when JJ has pulled the team (minus Hotch and Gideon) onto the dance floor, a few drinks past tipsy at this point. She’s laughing out loud, holding Elle’s hand and twirling her under her arm. Penelope and Derek are mock-waltzing, bursting into laughter every few steps, and Spencer… 

JJ pauses for a moment, before Elle pulls her into moving again. Her head whips around, trying to find Spencer, before giving up. He must be back at the table with Hotch and Gideon, he was never very comfortable dancing anyway. 

The four on the dance floor quickly devolve into a mess, swapping partners until they’re all dizzy and laughing. JJ and Penelope are shimmying back and forth together, when Penelope gasps a little, tapping JJ’s arm without ceasing her movements. “Jayj! Look, see that girl at the bar?” She gestures subtly at a younger woman, probably in her early twenties, wearing a purple wrap top that has JJ sighing wistfully. 

“Pen, I think I’ve seen my soulmate. Would it be weird for me to crawl over there and beg her for her shirt?” Penelope giggles, gripping JJ’s forearms so they can sway to the music dramatically. “Just a little, my sweet. How about we go ask her where it’s from, though? I think that would be a little more…” She goes uncharacteristically silent, and it has JJ twisting to see what shut her up. However, Penelope tightens her grip on her arms, keeping her from moving. 

“JJ. My love, my heart. You’ll always be honest with me, won’t you?” Now she’s worried. JJ nods quickly, deciding to just focus on Penelope. “Yeah, Garcia, of course. What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m seeing things, and you are one of the most qualified people in the world to tell me if I’m going crazy. I’m going to turn us around, and you’re going to look at the woman in that gorgeous top, and you are going to either scream, or send me off to Hotch for a psychological evaluation.” Her tone is serious, hushed, and JJ nods solemnly. 

The intricate plan is conducted, and JJ is now facing the bar, her eyes searching for the girl, when she stiffens, sucking in a breath. “Yes! I’m not crazy, you see it right? What is going on!” Penelope smacks her arm repeatedly, but JJ can’t tear her eyes away from it. It being something she couldn’t possibly have prepared herself for, not in her wildest imaginations.

The girl is sitting on a barstool, sipping at a cocktail, and chatting to… Spencer. Spencer, the BAU’s Spencer, child-prodigy-lovable-dork-awkward-mess Spencer Reid, is stood in between her legs, smiling down at Mystery Girl without a hint of fear. It’s devastatingly sweet, his eyes soft in a way she’s never seen before, as he nods along with whatever she’s saying. Penelope jolts her out of her trance with a tap to the arm, JJ whispering, “He’s so… carefree.” 

That’s the only way to describe it. He’s looking down at her, eyes locked onto hers, and he’s still. His hands aren’t tapping, his leg isn’t shaking. He’s just looking at her. 

JJ can feel Morgan and Elle huddle near her, questioning Penelope about what they’re looking at, before shutting up as they see it. She hears them take twin gasps, and huddle even closer. They stand in silence, surely a hindrance to the people dancing, but they can’t tear themselves away. 

It’s only when Spencer shatters their worlds once more that they finally find themselves able to move. Four pairs of eyes follow him, as he leans even further towards Mystery Girl, and they all bulge at once when he raises a hand, carding his fingers through her hair. Penelope whispers, “oh my god”, Elle grips JJ’s arm in a vice grip, and Derek makes an unseemly noise, before gripping their arms, tugging them back to the booth. 

They collapse in the seats, faces pale as they look at each other, next to a very confused Gideon and Hotch. 

“What? What is it?” Hotch questions them, brow furrowed deeply. None of them speak, however. Only Elle lifts a weak hand to point. She directs their attention to the sight at the bar, and they all turn back to it, gasping once again. They’re… “kissing,” Derek breathes, shocked. Hotch and Gideon stiffen, but still crane their heads until their eyes fall on what has rendered their highly trained team speechless. And their reactions are just as silent.

Mystery Girl has stood up, her arms around Spencer’s neck, and he’s leaned down to meet her lips, hands braced on her hips. It’s honestly not that scandalous, a lazy, casual kiss that they part from with twin smiles, but the FBI agents can’t handle it. They don’t say a word, straining their ears to hear whatever she is saying as he holds her hand (Penelope lets out a squeak at that), and walks with her towards the door, not even noticing that his coworkers have returned to the booth. Her voice is low, but Hotch manages to pick up a few of the words. 

“...go home and watch that movie I was telling you about? Metropolis, I think you’ll really…” And they’re off. Spencer Reid has left a bar, holding hands with a girl (that he’s apparently spoken to multiple times? Who refers to a place as home for both of them?), acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

The group sits in silence, unable to muster a comment, when Penelope’s phone buzzes. She checks it, and silently turns the screen over so they can all read it. 

BOY GENIUS: Hey Garcia. I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to go home. See you Monday :-)

“What?”

[write-orflight]

Like Real People do. Chapter 2

*Gif not mine*

Chapter 1

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Death, talk about death, Mentions of past sexual assault and kidnapping

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N This is a little angsty chapter. lots of major plot details as well as mentions of assault. If that is Triggering to you i recommend skipping the first half. Also expect an update every week instead of this soon only posting this because I got inspired and finished early. much love, Cia

        Chapter 2:About that night 

“Hey dad, mom.” You said, sitting down on the cool grass, you began to pick at the blades like you did as a child as you spoke. “I know I haven’t visited in a while. In my defense, I was in school across the country, but it's not like I haven't been thinking of you guys.” You leaned back the cool marble chilling your back as well. You could practically hear your mother’s voice in your ear. 

“Ladies don’t slouch, Y/N” She’d always say, your dad would always come to your defense, “Sit however you want, Angel.” He’d say. You smiled, sadly. You missed your parents in different ways but you still missed them regardless. 

“Umm, so I suppose I should tell you guys what’s new with me.” You say. “I finished my masters, 2 actually and I uh… finished academy. I’m a profiler now at Quantico.” you winced slightly, you knew your mom would hate it, she hated when your dad was one. You couldn’t count the amount of times you hid in your room watching TV to drown out what they thought was hushed arguments. Your mom didn’t like that he wasn’t home a lot, sure but the main argument was always that she thought it was dangerous, and that he was recklessly putting their lives at risk. 

If there’s one thing your mother always was, it was right. 

“I know you guys probably wouldn’t have wanted this for me. I know mom wanted me to be a dancer despite my inability to dance.” you laughed, looking back fondly at the times you would just, for lack of a better word, flail around your childhood dance classes. “And I know dad never wanted me to know about that side of his job. But I did, and now I’m doing it and I’m happy because it’s the one place I finally feel like I fit.” You sigh. “And I’m good at it. So I feel like you guys would be proud.” You began to rattle off the details of your most recent case quietly to your dad. And how Spencer took a risk that had thankfully paid off but was terrifying in the meantime. 

“Spencer is…” You paused, trying to think of the right words to describe Dr. Spencer Reid. “... A guy. Wait, not a guy, like that. He’s a coworker, who’s a guy.” you say, fumbling and probably flushing if you could see your face. Why were you blushing? No one was here, no one alive at least. You’d known Spencer for a little over a month now and the more you spoke, the more your crush on him developed.  “He’s incredibly smart, like genius-level smart, and he’s nice. Dad, you would’ve liked him.” you felt tears coming up, as they typically did this day of the year. You stood up, placing the flowers you had purchased the day before. “I actually managed to find some good blue hydrangeas this year for you, mom.” You smiled, remembering the amount your mother would complain about how other people took care of their flowers in the neighborhood you grew up in specifically your neighbor’s blue hydrangea bush. You often found her in a rage that they were ‘practically butchering her favorite flower’  You laid the flowers down regarding your parents grave one more time. 

Alice and Noah Y/L/N

Beloved Parents and Agents. 

You stopped for hot chocolate on your way home, it always cheered you up in these winter months. Not that anything could cheer you up today but it couldn’t hurt. You made your way back to your apartment, picking up your textbook and making notes. When the words began to swim you laid down for a nap. 

You hadn’t had the dream for a while but it was never really gone. The putrid smell of the basement you were kept in, the drip of the leaky ceiling, the small sealed shut window that was your only indication that days have passed. His hands, filthy dirty hands. Always covered in soot, fingernails always dirty. He’d always come in at night, the light from the hallway being the only amount of light you’d get. Every night, he’d grab your face roughly, making you meet him in his dead eyes, and ask

“Are you going to be good for me tonight, Beloved.” 

You fought him the first couple of nights, but after a while you just let him take it. His hands always rough, pinning you, the knife pressing deep making shallow cuts in your side, the ringing of the phone 

The ringing of the phone…? 

You wake up startled, your phone is ringing. You look at the caller ID, it was Garcia. 

“Hey Garcie.” You say, sleepily, calling her by the nickname you gave her a month into knowing her. “Is there a case?” You ask. 

“Nope, sugarplum. I’m calling to ask if you wanted to come out and have a girls night. I was thinking maybe calling Prentiss and JJ, we go get drinks, have fun…” she trailed off. 

“I don’t think so, Garcia, I might just sit and watch tv tonight.” You say, being in large crowds, especially today, didn’t sound fun.  

“I know what today is, Y/N” she says, quietly. “So even if you don’t want to go out that’s fine, I’ll bring food, wine, and we can totally just sit and watch tv. But you shouldn’t be alone.” 

She was right, you knew you shouldn’t be alone. You sigh. “Only if you bring thai food and we can watch Doctor Who.” 

“Deal!” she says excitedly before hanging up. 

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

You and Garcia proceeded to spend most of the day watching Doctor who and laughing around Thai food. You’re halfway through the 10’s second season when Garcia gets a call. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” She says. You can’t make out the other person on the line. “I am sitting with Y/N in her apartment and we’re watching Doctor Who, can you believe she stopped watching after Nine?” 

“I got busy!” You said around your mouth full of food. 

“Hold on, I’ll ask.” Penelope says. “It’s Spencer, he wants to know if it’s ok he comes to watch with us. I’ll tell him no…” She trails off. 

“No, it's fine.” You say, nodding. “Tell him he can come.” 

“Spence, she said it’s fine. But I’d hurry up before she inhales all the Thai food.” 

“Fuck you!” you exclaim, laughing. 

You get up and head to your bathroom. You looked like you had been crying for sure. So you put some concealer under your eyes and blush on your cheeks. You look at yourself again and decide why not finish? And put eyeliner and lipgloss on. You change pajamas as well opting for shorts and a tank in case you get warm. 

You come back and Garcia is full on smirking at you. 

“What?” you ask? 

“Nothing…” She said, smirk now turned to a full grin. 

You pour more wine into your glass, feeling Garcia’s gaze still on you. You look over and you were right. She was looking at you, still smiling. 

“Alright out with it, Garcie.” 

“You like him.” She says. 

“Pardon?” You question hoping that if you act like you didn’t know what she was talking about she’d let it go. Obviously that was not the case. 

“Spencer.” She says, nonchalantly. “You like him.”

You pick up your glass. Now seemed like the best time to drink. “No, I don’t” 

Garcia scoffed. “I may not be a profiler, but I’m not an idiot.” She laughed. “I tell you Spencer’s coming over suddenly you have on full makeup.” 

“I just didn’t want to look like I was crying.” You pointed out.

“Uh-huh, and the changing into the super sexy pajama set was also so you didn’t look like you were crying?” 

You roll your eyes, continuing to eat. “It’s not sexy, it’s pajamas.” you say around your food. 

“If you say so, I think it’s cute though.” Penelope says. “You know, he asked me if you were dating anyone the other day.” 

“Really?” You said, a little too excitedly. 

“No!” She laughs. “But nice acting skills, you almost had me fooled that you didn’t like him.” 

You sit back in your seat pouting. “That’s not a nice trick to play.” 

“Oh, shut up. You’re only upset you've been had.” As if he knew you were talking about him, a knock came to the door. You both turned to look at the door neither moving to get it. “Are you going to get the door or do you want to change again.” She jokes. 

“Shut up.” you mumble before opening the door. Spencer regards you with a tiny smile clutching his messenger bag. “Hey, Spencer.” You smiled moving to the side, letting him in. Garcia greets him too, patting the seat next to her in the middle of the couch. He sits his bag down before joining her. You return to your seat at the end immediately pulling your legs under you turning your attention to the TV. You feel eyes on you so you turn only to lock eyes with Spencer. He flushes immediately before awkwardly clearing his throat and turning toward the screen. Weird… you think. 

The three of you watch a couple more episodes, at some point the Thai food is put away and replaced with popcorn. You’re laughing so much you almost forget what today is. 

Almost. 

Eventually, Garcia stands. “Well lovelies, I have an early day tomorrow. So I’m going to head out.” 

Spencer moves to stand too. “Guess I’ll head out too.” 

“No!” Garcia all but shouts. “Don’t stop on my account. You guys seem like you’re having fun.” She says. If you weren’t glaring at her before it was full on daggers now she was obviously trying to set you up. 

“If I’m not putting you out, Y/N.” 

“Never Spencer, I like hanging out with you.” You add. God, I sound lame. You think. But you instantly lose that thought when a bright smile crosses his lips. You can’t help but look and smile back. A throat being cleared brings you both back. 

“I’m going to go.” Garcia says, smiling at you both. She hoped you guys figured it out you could be good for each other. “I’ll see you at work.” 

“Bye Garcie! Thanks for today.” You call out to her, watching to make sure she got to her car safe. You turn back to Spencer. “Next Episode?” You ask, he nods furiously. 

You’re about halfway through the second episode you’ve watched with just Spencer and you can’t help but be hyper aware of your body right now. Spencer was still so close, seated in the middle of your couch instead of the end where Garcia had been. You took in his relaxed frame, the furrow that was normally in his brow was almost entirely gone, his sharp jaw finally slack. You find yourself looking at his mouth for a while, he had such a pretty mouth, soft pink lips that you couldn’t help but wonder what they felt like, what they tasted like-- 

That thought was dashed short when you saw his eyes back on you. You flush looking into his eyes. 

“You didn’t come to work today.” He says. 

“I did not.” 

“Hotch said it was a personal day.”

“It was.” You sighed. You knew someone would eventually ask about it, you worked with profilers, you're sure most of them deduced why you took a personal day even if they didn’t know the whole truth.   

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. He’s offering you an out, you decide not to take it.         

“It’s been 11 years since my parents died today.” You say. “You’d think it’d get easier by now but it really really doesn’t.” You sigh. 

Suddenly you felt arms around you. Spencer was hugging you tightly and that was enough to break the dam you thought you had closed before. You began clutching on to him sobbing giant messy cries into his shoulder. He rubs your back in smooth circles whispering it’s ok until he notices you calm. He still didn’t release his hold in you so now you were laying in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. ��You didn’t have to do this.” you say “I know you’re a germaphobe.” 

“Yea to strangers, Y/N.” He points out. “Not to you, you’re my friend. I’m always going to try to protect you.” He says, smoothing your hair from your face. The action itself was so fond it hurt you. And while the friend comment stung a little you couldn’t bring yourself to care because right now even if it was just for the night you were in Spencer Reid’s arms. And you felt safe. 

“Can we finish Doctor Who now?” You inquire, not moving from your spot, practically burying yourself into Spencer’s shoulder.  

“Of course.” He says pressing play. You stay like that, pressed tightly together until David Tennant’s voice and Spencer body warmth lure you into slumber. 

 Taglist:    @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms

[ducktracy]

187. daffy duck & egghead (1938)

release date: january 1st, 1938

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (daffy, turtle, duck), danny webb (egghead)

starting off the new year with a bang—the first cartoon of 1938 is one of my favorites! two tex avery creations, daffy and egghead, make their second appearances paired together.

both characters have gotten a makeover, though egghead’s is more drastic: he now has hair and talks in a dopey drawl courtesy of danny webb. daffy, on the other hand, now has blue irises and a matching ring around his neck—this design would be exclusive to this short only. but, it IS the first cartoon to pen him as daffy duck! he’d appear in a number of looney tunes shorts with porky as the year would go on.

like so many other “hunter vs prey” shorts, egghead is determined to hunt daffy. daffy, however, is prepared to do everything in his power to make egghead miserable.

ben hardaway, who would have been directing his own cartoons at the time of this cartoon’s release, is the writer, and it shows throughout. ben is notable for his more hayseed sense of humor, relying on puns so corny you’ll be flossing your teeth for a week to remove the kernels. his punny touch is noticeable right at the start, with daffy and egghead bursting out of literal nutshells in an odd little introductory sequence. irv spence does some nice animation here: daffy shakes his fists in the glory, soon to be interrupted by the fire of egghead’s gun. egghead chases after a HOOHOOing daffy, the smoke from the gun spelling out to the audience “DUCK SEASON STARTS TODAY”.

the scene is odd, but more so out of uniqueness rather than perplexity. one wonders how tex really would have prefaced the cartoon if he were paired with another writer instead.

in a tradition that would carry out into tex’s MGM days, one of our first impressions of the short is a facetious disclaimer:

a sense of tranquility is established through a soft, sweeping rendition of “morning song” from the william tell overture. various gorgeously painted backgrounds fade into each other to convey the passage of time and rise of the sun, each background absolutely stunning in its own right. in a tex avery cartoon, such peace and harmony can only mean one thing: chaos is soon to follow.

our eponymous hunter creeps onto the screen, remarking aloud on the eerie stillness of his surroundings. “i wonder if there are any more hunters out here this morning.” right on cue, a swarm of hunters pop out of the reeds, reciting a popular catchphrase from the ken murray show reused in many a ‘30s WB cartoon: “whoooooooooa, yeaaaaah!”

the sound of quacks ring out from the recesses of the reeds, turning egghead on the alert. just as he prepares to hunt his prey, a signature avery gag of epic proportions interrupts the scene... literally. 

tedd pierce’s silhouette darkens the screen as he makes his way to his movie seat--a latecomer. egghead spots him and urges him to sit down and not scare away his prey. the latecomer does so, only to rise up again and change seats. our frustrated sportsman urges the silhouette to sit down again, which he does so. the silhouette never utters a word, and that’s the best part. the matter of fact delivery of the gag, the control of it all is what makes the gag so funny. such even temperament from the silhouette juxtaposes starkly with the wild nature of avery cartoons. the normal is now the ridiculous. 

when the silhouette snoops around for a better seat once more, egghead loses all patience and fires his gun straight at the silhouette. tedd pierce’s theatrics are hilarious--he twirls around, clutching his heart, hamming up his injury to the last drop. the anticipatory drum-roll as egghead looks on brings the entire act together. finally, pierce collapses, much to the contentment of egghead. he merely rubs the dust off his hands in a job well done and continues where he left off.

cartoon characters shooting audience members isn’t an alien move in warner bros. cartoons (bugs in rhapsody rabbit, daffy in the ducksters), yet the inclusion of the silhouette and its subsequent dramatics brings a new level of inclusion with the audience. imagine what an uproar this would get in a packed house! it’s a great way to break the barrier between cartoon characters and the audience. WB did a great job of making the audience feel included. hell, a majority of daffy’s character throughout the ‘40s hinges on this! but that’s an analysis for another time.

speaking of daffy, he’s the perpetrator of those quacking sounds in the reeds. egghead parts the plants to see if his prey is still there. he is—daffy gives him a viscious bite on egghead’s bulbous nose before going back into hiding.

“that duck’s craaaa-zy!” daffy pops his head out of the reeds again, shrieking a reply of “you tellin’ me? WOO WOO WOOHOO!”

daffy’s voice is significantly more shrill than his dopey guffaws in porky’s duck hunt. in fact, it’s so shrill that this could easily be considered one of his most annoying cartoons. though his 100% screwy, totally out of his mind personality isn’t my favorite personality for him, it’s still pretty damn great! so if you like obnoxious daffy (like me), this is a short for you. if you can’t stand him being a lunatic, stay away!

with that, daffy takes an exit, whooping and shrieking all the way in a direct throwback to his ecstatic exit in porky’s duck hunt. this is a game-changer for the merrie melodies series—the screwy, lunatic antics were typically reserved for the black and white looney tunes shorts. and here we have daffy, splitting the ears of his patrons and being a royal nuisance in the more expensive, esteemed merrie melodies, typically reserved for song and dance numbers! this ain’t your mother’s merry melody.

when daffy takes refuge within a cluster of reeds positioned in the middle of the lake, egghead uses this as an opportunity to lure out his prey with a decoy. specifically, ONE LOVE-LURE DUCK DECOY.

egghead sends the obnoxiously feminine duck decoy out into the water, quacking in time to the beat of stalling’s “the lady in red” underscore. the decoy disappears into the reeds, and there’s a pause.

a flurry of aggravated, warbled quacking cues us in that daffy is pissed off. the action is all hidden behind the plants, leaving details of their altercation is up to the audience’s interpretation. what we do see is daffy’s physical anger: he pops out of the water at the bank of the lake, throwing the decoy down at egghead’s feet. a makeshift sign cleverly held up by a cattail echoes a beloved catchphrase from the radio show fibber mcgee and molly:

bubbles rippling on the surface indicate daffy’s presence. he pokes his head out to heave a teasing quack at the befuddled hunter before dipping back down again, prompting egghead to stick his rifle in the lake. cue a tried and true gag that was likely much funnier then than now: the ol’ tie-the-gun-into-a-bow trick. 

the next gag is one that tex avery would refurbish in his MGM debut, the early bird dood it!: egghead physically lifts the lake up like a blanket, where daffy appears just in time to give his nose another honk for good measure. cue crazed laughter and intricate water aerobics. daffy halts, addressing the audience directly with a flimsy reassurance: “i’m not crazy, i just don’t give a darn!”

irv spence takes the next showdown between hunter and duck. look at how much more appealing egghead is in his hands! egghead leans down to retrieve his gun he tosses aside, when daffy zooms into frame and fights him for it. daffy’s consistent smile as he and egghead battle for dominance, both trying to reach higher and higher on the gun, is hysterical—he’s absolutely getting a kick out of egghead’s frustration. though it was clear he was reveling in porky’s own anger in porky’s duck hunt, here his enjoyment is much more blatant. he loves being a pest.

daffy slides the rifle beneath his legs and out of sight, bopping egghead on the fist and causing him to slug a haymaker against his own head. signature irv spence grawlixes add a nice level of two dimensional graphic design, like something straight from a comic.

out of nowhere, a random turtle disrupts the altercation. the turtle is a parody of parkykarkus from the chase & sanborn hour, speaking in a thick accent and slightly butchered grammar. he opts to settle daffy and egghead’s fight once and for all, posing as a referee. “just a minute, chums. just a minute!” he supplies the two with pistols, both fitted for their respective sizes. to daffy, “turn around.” to egghead: “now you turn around.”

i love how daffy’s curiosity with the turtle’s interruption is noticeable. so noticeable, in fact, that the turtle grows hostile, getting up in his face and shouting “KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLES BUSINESS, AIN’T IT!” it’s rare to see daffy lacking control of the situation, even this early on. 

the two put their backs together per the turtle’s command, walking ten paces backwards in time to the turtle’s countdown. just as the turtle reaches ten, daffy jumps behind egghead, who fires. a potentially gruesome conclusion is avoided as the bullet hits the turtle’s chest instead, causing his head to rocket upward, hit a branch, and shrink back into his shell. in a hardawayian touch, daffy hands egghead a cigar, walking off screen, satisfied.

random as the scene is (hardaway’s influence seems to be particularly strong throughout this whole middle section), irv spence’s timing and appealing animation makes up for it. the switch to another animator entails an inevitable downgrade in draftsmanship.

after egghead realizes he’s been duped, he retrieves his rifle and prepares to shoot daffy. though initially startled, daffy thinks on his feet, and eagerly places an apple on his head for egghead to aim at instead. stalling’s fitting accompaniment of “william tell overture” raises in key each time egghead fires (and subsequently misses), a pattern that sounds almost identical to scott bradley’s scores under the direction of tex at MGM. 

egghead shoots a tree, the lake, a barn, and even straight past daffy, who grows increasingly irritated at the hunter’s incompetence, moving closer to him with each effort. hardaway’s influence is strong with the next gag, matched with tex’s fast pace to prevent it from overstaying its welcome: daffy thrusts pencils, sunglasses, and a sign that says BLIND on it before turning to the audience and tssking. “too bad. too bad!” harsh indeed. i imagine this gag would have been prolonged had hardaway directed this cartoon or wrote it under another director.

if anything, this cartoon certainly displays the importance of the relationship between director and writer. writers have a much bigger influence on the cartoon than one might believe! there’s a reason as to why chuck jones and mike maltese are touted around as a dynamic duo. i wouldn’t call hardaway a bad writer by any means, but his influence is certainly potent. tex is a strong director, and thankfully he could cushion the blows of hardaway’s corniness as much as he could, but it’s also evident that certain decisions were made that tex wouldn’t have made in other circumstances.

decisions such as daffy singing an entire ode to his lunacy as the cartoon’s song number. this is definitely a hardawayian insert--a prototype, hayseed, screwball bugs bunny sings his own nutty anthem in hardaway’s hare-um scare-um just a year later. full song numbers have been making their way out the door in avery’s cartoons, and by either this year or next they’d be absent in total from the merrie melodies series. it’s unlike avery to write a whole song about characters explaining their nuttiness.

that is why i have qualms with the scene. at his zenith, daffy never attempts to explain or justify his screwiness. even in the mid-’40s, when he’s able to think and speak coherently and isn’t a mere caricature of his name, he showed no self awareness for his condition. the “look at me, ain’t i a crazy one?” jokes with him were out the door by 1939. half the fun with him is how unaware he is of his daffiness--he lives in it constantly, always zipping from emotional extremes, but never stops to tell the audience just how crazy and fun he is. here, his self-awareness seems ingenuine and prideful. daffy is my favorite character for his humanity and relatability (even--if not more so--when he’s a total loon). here, he lacks that dynamism. he’s merely a stock reflection of his namesake.

with that said, daffy’s rendition of “the merry go round broke down” is my favorite merrie melody song number, period. i’m certainly biased due to my undying affinity with daffy, but irv spence’s animation is genuinely fun to watch, and mel blanc does a wonderful performance. i know all of the words by heart! essentially, daffy’s justification for his daffiness is because the dizzy pace of the merry go round went to his head and made him nuts. while this sense of bragging is relatively out of character for him, it makes for a contagiously fun song, and also, this is his second film ever. they still had much to explore. 

the scene concludes with daffy shaking hands with his reflection in the water and diving back in. fade out and in to egghead, still furiously attempting to pursue his prey. cue a fun little avery gag where our hunter nonchalantly opens the reeds he’s hiding behind like a pair of blinds. daffy’s carefree quacking and swimming in the lake almost seems to mock him. in a gag that would be reused in avery’s lucky ducky over at MGM to a greater extent, daffy puts on a mask to scare away the oncoming bullets. indeed, the bullets retreat into egghead’s gun, prompting befuddled stares at both the gun and the audience.

daffy engages in another round of spastic water aerobics, HOOHOOing all the way. he only pauses to cling to a cattail, echoing an averyian daffy catchphrase that he would also shriek in daffy duck in hollywood, “ain’t i some cutie? ahah! i think i’ll do it again! HAHAHA!”

a nice, jazzy score of “bob white (whatcha gonna swing tonight?)” accompanies yet another endeavor by egghead. he’s either stupidly bold or boldly stupid to keep up such a tiring charade--or both! egghead loads a pair of gloves tied to a string into the barrel of the rifle, cleverly using a cattail as a bore brush. and, despite the absurdity of his makeshift fishing pole, it works: one gloved hand grabs daffy by the neck, the other konking him on the head and knocking him unconscious. egghead reels in his prize, dumping daffy into a net and letting out a handful of gleeful “WHOOPEE!”s.

avery’s timing is succinct--immediately after egghead snags his duck, the sound of a siren drowns out his celebration. a duck nearly identical to daffy approaches the scene in an “asylum ambulance”. “gee, t’anks a lot for catchin’ dis goof!” duck confiscates his fellow duck comrade. the decision to turn the conversation confidential, complete with the lowering of the voice and shifty-eyed glances is great. “y’know, we been after dis guy for months!”

despite everything that egghead has endured, he seems genuinely shocked at the duck’s claim that daffy is “100% nuts”. “oh YEAH?” he echoes, daring to believe it. duck nods. “yeeeeah!” with that, he gives egghead a honk right on the nose.

daffy, completely unscathed, wastes little time in joining the festivities as both ducks beat the tar out of egghead from both ends, literally kicking him in the arse and honking him on the nose. both ducks head to the lake, HOOHOOing in shrill unison as they bound off into the horizon. egghead only has one more option... to join them. thus, we iris out on our brave hunter HOOHOOing into the horizon himself.

as i said at the beginning of this review, this cartoon is one of my favorites--for this era, anyway. despite its imperfections, it’s still a rather fun and rousing cartoon. it’s exciting to see daffy becoming more recognizable, in terms of voice,  demeanor, and appearance. the same can be said for egghead as well, though i doubt anyone has the same attachment to him as they do other characters. i certainly don’t.

admittedly, porky’s duck hunt is a more solid cartoon. this cartoon feels much more like a string of gags than anything, though i suppose that could be said for many a tex avery cartoon. he wasn’t known for his moving stories. hardaway’s corny, hayseed sense of humor serves as the biggest detriment to the cartoon, but luckily tex is a strong enough director to try and work around those weaknesses as best he could. and even though i disagree with the reasoning behind the song number, the song number will always be my favorite merry melody song. 

i didn’t mention the backgrounds very often, but they’re STELLAR. the colorful, whimsical palette brings a lot of energy and vitality to the table. if you were to describe the cartoon in one word, “energetic” would certainly be it.

so, with that said, go watch it! this is a really fun cartoon that serves as an interesting look into early daffy’s character, obnoxious as he may be.

link!

[erin-bo-berin]

Confidence

MASTERLIST

This was an anonymous requested fic about the scene from season 8, episode 10 when Spencer is talking to Alex Blake and obviously not feeling very great about himself. I decided to write it as a cute fluffy fic because one, I knew I needed to use this gif and two, who doesn’t love a cute, fluffy fic? Enjoy all the Spencer feels.

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 2,673

It was another run-of-the-mill day at work for you.

Another day, another case.

This week you and your fellow Behavioral Analysis teammates happened to be in Washington state, tracking down a serial murder. One that was very unusual in his ritual of kills. He would kill a male victim, usually shooting them then a female victim would follow, killed by strangulation.

The unsub definitely showed more resentment towards his female victims. He was cold, calculated and distant from the kills of the men. Almost like he was doing them a favor by killing them in such a quick way.

His method of kill for the women was more up close, personal and definitely filled with rage. He wanted the women victims to suffer for as long as possible, inflicting as much pain as possible.

The team had profiled that he was probably holding resentment to a male and female pair, someone who had wronged him in the past, most likely his parents. Whatever had happened, the unsub obviously didn’t hold as much anger for the father figure as he did for the mother figure.

You’d been following his trail for two days, new victims dropping left and right, like a convoluted scavenger hunt. You were closing in on him and he knew it; he was beginning to unravel.

You had taken a much needed break for some bad police station coffee, when you heard voices around the corner. The tiny coffee nook was partially hidden by a wall and around the wall was a table where a few of your team members sat.

You recognized Dr. Alex Blake’s voice first, followed by the smooth, deeper voice of Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Well, why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

This question came from Blake and intrigued, you eavesdropped a little while you stirred the creamer into your coffee.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” came from Reid.

“Why not?” Alex questioned.

“I don’t know, what if she doesn’t like me?”

“Why do you think she wouldn’t?”

Alex’s question wasn’t judgemental or harsh, just full of honest curiosity.

“Because I’m weird. I slouch, my hair’s too long and my tie is perpetually crooked.”

“You are not weird,” Blake said, sounding fully like a mother at bat for her child, “And your hair is just fine. The slouching and tie can be fixed though.”

You heard Spencer laugh, knowing that Alex was just teasing him. You smiled a bit, but felt a slight heaviness to your chest. You hated that he felt that way about himself. He was an amazing individual and whoever this girl was, she would be lucky to have him. She was lucky to even have him admire her.

Spencer was definitely a brainiac. With an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and an ability to read 20,000 words a minute, his skill set was impressive. But his knowledge wasn’t the only good thing about him. He was an amazing profiler, extremely good at his work. He excelled in geographic profiles, which he often worked on during cases and his love for statistics did quite come in handy for things.

But besides work, he was a sweet and gentle guy. He was always willing to drop whatever he was doing to come aid one of his loved ones, whether it was his mother or one of his beloved teammates. Many times was Spencer there to be an emotional soundboard for you. He cared for people and things deeply, he felt them deeply, which you admired. When he was involved with something he gave it his all; he was involved in it 100%. His chess skills were quite extraordinary, as was his poker playing. You had yet to beat him in either game. He could probably win a game of Uno like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Also, even though it wasn’t the most important thing, he was attractive. You often heard women make comments about his good looks—sometimes prostitutes too, which amused you to no end—in which he’d just get flustered and confused.

At six feet tall, he was long and thin, but without being extremely lanky. His light brown hair was often in a disarray of loose curls, falling whatever direction it wanted to. His eye color was quite a mystery to you as well. You’d worked with him for years on end and still couldn’t tell if they were completely brown or a hazel hue. Depending on the light or colors he wore, you noticed they had a tendency to look anywhere from a deepend brown, to a honeyed light brown to even a glowing green. He was insanely lucky with the facial features department too; he had a sharp jawline and nicely shaped, plump lips that women would kill to have naturally. Speaking of, his natural lashes were a joke. They were long and beautiful, framing his eye nicely. They made you insanely jealous because if you had been blessed with lashes so nice, you’d never have to wear fake lashes ever again.

All in all though, you knew he had the biggest heart you’d ever seen. Despite all his quirks and antics, he had a never ending love for his work and his teammates, a love that always continued to expand as people came and went. 

You couldn’t see how this mystery girl couldn’t see that in him.

Your thoughts had caused you to miss parts of the conversation, so when you tuned back into the conversation, you heard Spencer speaking again.

“I just don’t want to ruin something good,” he sounded dejected.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Alex said, “Is it worth you always wondering what could’ve happened if you never tried?”

“I guess not.”

“Then take a chance. You just might be surprised.”

You didn’t hear her departure, but when it fell silent you figured she’d walked away. You decided to make your presence known in an inconspicuous way.

You picked up your styrofoam coffee cup and rounded the corner, seeing Spencer’s attention back on the book in front of him. You sat down across from him.

“Need any help?”

He looked up, shaking his head.

“No. Thanks though. You have a death wish or something?”

“What?” you chuckled.

He motioned to the cup in your hand.

“The coffee. It tastes like warm, wet mud.”

You grimaced down into your cup, your desire for some coffee now gone. His description wasn’t all that off anyway; it was horrible coffee.

“I’m making a coffee run later, I’ll make sure to get you some of the good stuff.”

You smiled appreciatively.

“Thanks.” 

He moved to turn the page, when you spoke again.

“So I overheard your conversation with Blake.”

He winced, “You did?”

You nodded, setting the coffee cup aside and lacing your fingers together on the tabletop in front of you.

“So who is she?” you smiled.

He hesitated as if contemplating how he should answer.

“You don’t know her.”

“Well are you gonna ask her out?”

He shrugged a bit.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“I’m with Alex,” you encouraged, “You should totally go for it.”

He smiled shyly, like a timid school boy with a crush on a fellow classmate. It made you happy to see him so happy.

“You just need to have a little confidence in yourself. Don’t beat yourself up, you’re a great guy, Spence.”

“You think?”

“I know,” you corrected, “This girl is incredibly lucky.

You noticed that he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, even as he looked back down to the text.

“Would you do it if I helped you out a little?”

“Helped me out?” He looked up at you confused and perhaps just a tad bit curious.

“Yeah. Like helped you gain a little confidence before you ask her.”

“Really? You’d do that?” he paused, wary, “Why though?”

“Because Spencer, whoever this girl is, I can tell she makes you incredibly happy. Besides you deserve that happiness so much.”

“That means a lot,” he said lowly, “Thank you.”

“So, why don’t you tell me about this girl?”

He opened his mouth to answer you, but before he could speak Hotch zoomed past you two, talking as he walked.

“Garcia got a hit on the partial license plate. She found the address for our unsub. Let’s go.”

You jumped up, both of you following after him.

It was time to catch this son of a bitch; self-esteem lessons would have to wait until later.

•

The BAU had made it to the unsub’s residence just in the nick of time.

Leroy Fleming was moments away from ending the life of a young woman, who was thankfully saved in time. He had a sordid life with his parents. Parents who most likely had no business having a child.

His mother abused alcohol, drugs and Leroy. She would hit him any chance he got. His father always turned a blind eye, yet he loved his father dearly. He held a grudge against him though because the man never had enough courage nor dignity to leave the mother or the volatile situation.

“Guess that was imprinted on him in his early life. The trigger for his rage,” Spencer said.

You groaned, rubbing your side. You had tackled Leroy after he’d ran from the authorities. It was an impressive move that surprised even yourself, but you were paying the price now.

“You okay?” 

Both of his hands held onto the strap of his satchel as he walked next to you, looking over at you concernedly. 

“Yeah, just some bruises and sore muscles. Nothing fatal. Now, isn’t it time to tell me all about that girl you have a thing for?”

He grimaced, opening the door for you to the BAU unit.

“Do I have to?”

“Come on. Just think of it as an exercise. Besides we never did have time to go get some actual good coffee. How about making a run now before we have to do all the paperwork?”

“Alright. Just let me stop by my desk, okay?”

“Sounds good. I’ll just go wait by the elevator.” You smiled, walking back out of the bullpen.

Spencer caught Alex’s eye just as he was leaving his desk a few minutes later. She sent him a knowing smile causing one to form on his lips as well.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

•

After ordering your coffees and receiving them, you and Spencer sat at a table in the coffee shop, enjoying your drinks.

“Okay, now. Tell me about this mystery girl.”

“Well, she’s smart,” Spencer said.

“Smart like you?”

“No, definitely not. That’s not a bad thing either! I’m not calling her dumb or anything! It’s just different than what I’m used to,” he rambled.

“Spence, it’s okay,” you laughed, “I get what you mean. So she’s not on a genius level, but she’s smart. That’s nice though because you will always be able to teach her new things, tell her new facts and statistics that she’s never known.”

“I never thought about it like that,” he mused.

“Okay, tell me more.”

“She’s funny and kind.”

“Two great attributes.”

“She’s also the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. At least, to me she is. That’s why I’m so terrified.”

“Spencer she’s not going to bite you or anything,” you chuckled, “Just relax and take a deep breath okay? You’re just overthinking it.”

“I suppose so.”

“The worst thing that can happen is she says no. I know rejection hurts and it sucks, but wouldn’t you rather take a chance and maybe have something great begin than never to have taken that chance at all?”

“You sound like Blake,” Spencer noted.

“Then I digress.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” he joked.

“Spence, have a little faith in yourself. You’re a really great guy that any girl would be lucky to have. Even if it doesn't turn out how you hoped, you know that at least you tried.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Let’s get outta here before we move on to lesson two, it’s getting noisy.”

“Lesson two?” his eyebrow arched.

“Mhm. Follow me.”

It wasn’t until you were outside where it was a bit more peaceful that you spoke again.

“Okay, so where are you going to ask her out to?”

“Uh, I don’t know? I never really thought that far ahead,” he smiled sheepishly, “But you can never go wrong with coffee.”

He held up his to go cup, as if to prove his point.

“Yes, good! Ask her out for coffee. It’s the perfect place to sit and talk and enjoy each other’s company. Do you have anything in common with her? What would you talk to her about?”

“Again, not entirely sure.”

“Hmm,” you thought as you walked, “What does she do for work?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! Spencer, have you even talked to this girl?”

“Yes, I have, stop berating me!” he laughed.

“Well, ask her about her work. That’s a sure fire way to get a conversation flowing,” you smiled, “Now, we’re going to practice.”

You took the last gulp of your coffee, tossing the empty container in the trash can and waiting as he finished his, tossing his for him.

“Practice what exactly?”

“Asking her out. Just practice on me. It’s easy, just say what you would say to her.”

He fumbled, trying to get words out, but kept stuttering.

“No, stop. You’re overthinking it again. Just be straightforward and say it.”

“Alright. Got it,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “I was wondering would you like to go out sometime to get a coffee or something? Whatever you want.”

He was stammering, you could tell even the thought of asking this girl made him nervous.

“Spencer, Spence,” you stopped him, turning him towards you, putting your hands on his arms.

He peered down at you, curiously.

“All you have to do is just simply say, “would you like to go out for coffee sometime?”. It’s as easy as that. Get out of your head. I know you can do this.”

He smiled appreciatively, then nodded.

“Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?” he repeated, “Like that?”

“That was perfect. See? It’s not hard at all.”

You’d reached Quantico again and you patted his arm as you walked in.

“Keep me updated on what happens.”

•

It was almost 24 hours before you had a moment to talk to him alone again. You were heading out for the evening and you were waiting for the elevator to reach the BAU floor when he walked up next to you.

“Hey Romeo, you got a date yet?” 

“No, not quite yet,” he answered.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, both of you getting on. 

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you, yet. Your advice has really helped me,” he smiled, “Thanks for caring enough to help me out.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help anytime. Now you believe you can go for it, right?”

He turned towards you, smiling.

“Yeah, I believe I can.”

Before you realized what was happening, your face was in his hands and his lips were on yours.

He was hesitant, his lips soft against yours.

You couldn’t believe the explosion of butterflies in your stomach. You had never stopped to think just how you’d felt about him, but this kiss had confirmed that you did, indeed have feelings for him.

The kiss was soft and sweet and too quick for your liking. He pulled back, looking a bit embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, was that okay?”

Your hands had rested on his side at some point during the quick kiss and you smiled up at him.

“‘More than okay.”

He let out a quick breath, not quite a chuckle but his smile grew even more.

“Want to get a coffee with me, sometime?”

“Any time, any place, I’ll be there.”

You leaned up, bringing your lips to his once again.

Score one for Spencer Reid.

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[lucidentia-sb]

Q&A WITH SIMON BAKER

The actor on challenging prescribed masculine ideals, leaving legacies behind, and his feature film directorial debut Breath. 

“I’m really proud of this movie and I still sort of pinch myself that we were able to pull it off at all,” confessed Simon Baker to The Guardian earlier this month in speaking about his feature film directorial debut. “What I wanted to do with this movie is try to make a film that had a bit more longevity and, for my own satisfaction, had some kind of a legacy that I felt proud of.” Up until this point, the Australian actor has been a TV mainstay with his seven-year tenure on The Mentalist, not to mention his three-season commitment on The Guardian before it, playing a corporate attorney sentenced to countless hours of community service at a child advocacy office following a drug conviction. Evidently, Baker is looking to cement a different kind of legacy with Breath: an adaptation of Tim Winton’s acclaimed novel of the same title, in which is he also stars.

Set in the 1970s and largely shot in the Western Australian coastal town of Denmark, Breath is a rite-of-passage tale that chronicles a pair of small town boys who come under the spell of a Svengali-like, former pro surfer. The bro-triangle that develops out on the water between sensitive teenager Pikelet (Samson Coulter), his reckless best friend Loonie (Ben Spence), and their mentor Sando (Baker) is held together by instinctive respect, but also threatened by ego and rivalries, especially as Loonie’s increasingly erratic bravado pulls him mercilously into the direction his name suggests. Further complicating the boys’ surrogate parentage is Sando’s wife, Eva (Elizabeth Debicki), a former competitive skier - a confusing erotic presence: too old to be a conventional love interest, yet too young to be their mother - who communicates a kind of impenetrable sorrow.

I’m sure adapting any novel for the screen, let alone something by Tim Winton whose work is beloved, is fraught with obstacles. What sort of conversations did you have with him when you were about to embark on this project?

I had a couple of conversations with him on the phone and we talked more broadly about the approach to it. Then at one of the first dinners that just he and I had together, we pretty much outlined what I wanted to take out of the novel and distill into a film. Because they’re very different mediums, you can’t do a literal translation of the book and put it on the screen—it’s not really going to work out. It has to be broken down and then reinvented as a movie. So that was the process. I had the framework and the approach to it that I needed to run by Tim. I had his go-ahead or his approval and a sort of blessing, really, to be able to fuck with it and make it my own. He was a hundred percent on board with that. In fact, he was really encouraging of that, which I thought was brave of him and very trusting of him. Then he pretty much let me go in the direction that I wanted to go. He did a very early draft of the script, but I worked a lot with Gerard Lee. When we got to a point where [Gerard] kind of wanted to make a different movie out of it, I worked on it on my own from that point on, getting it to the shape where it is now.

I saw this quote from you: “You have to be prepared to murder the book, I think, and I needed to get Tim’s permission.” I think that’s so honest and accurate.

That was pretty much it, yeah.

Breath was a seven-year journey for you to get made and you can sense that it really comes from the heart. But I understand you weren’t originally attached to direct on top of your other duties. Was there always an ambition to direct?

It was an ambition that I had for a very long time. I mean, pretty much from the point in which I was an actor arriving on set. I was like, “Yeah, this is fantastic. I’m on this set as an actor. But I’m much more interested in what that guy there is doing.” [Laughs] Because he’s the conductor. He’s the guy that’s putting the whole thing together and that always fascinated me a bit more. I like the way things work. [Directing is] a lot more consuming in so many aspects. Your time, your energy, your emotional input, your sense of craftiness—I find it far more fulfilling in so many ways than I do with acting. I wish I found acting as fulfilling. Unfortunately, I just don’t. I don’t dislike acting. I just like that all-consuming nature of directing.

Maybe there’s a kind of parallel to be made between you, a veteran actor, directing these newcomer actors, and Sando mentoring the kids. Did that bring back some memories from when you first started out in the business?

A hundred percent. We were kind of living the story of the film in the making of the film in a lot of ways. It did make me [feel that way], just like probably how Sando aligns himself with these two young guys because I think he’s fearing his own mortality—a midlife crisis or something. Being around those two guys, Samson Coulter and Ben Spence who play Pikelet and Loonie, made me feel incredibly vital again. It did really energize me in a lot of ways, and because they were so raw and so natural, it kind of puts you on your toes as an actor as well.

I’ve come to learn that you surf in real life so you were well-aware of the world that you’re going into. What was your approach to capturing these expressive images on the water? For instance, how do you communicate to viewers this feeling of surfing for the very first time?

My approach was to make it feel really authentic and a big part of that authenticity is the fact that, when you’re on the water surfing, you’re exposed to such a sensory overload at times. Sometimes, you can’t see completely. Other times, you can’t hear completely. So you’re sort of immersed in the water and the things that we rely on on land are pushed to the back. It’s incredibly visual when you’re surfing on the water. Some of the glimpses of the beauty that you’re exposed to and take for granted—I wanted to capture the simplicities of what those things are because I think it’s always going to help the audience feel like they’re experiencing it themselves. Also, living that experience through a character—going from land and transitioning into the water—you never really lose sight of the protagonist. We don’t detach and then see them surfing. We go with them. I think that helps to enhance the experience. Obviously, visually, it’s shot very simply, but that visual world is incredibly beautiful. Then the sound design just enhances the visuals. The sound design is a big part of this film. If you do get a chance, go see it in a cinema with good sound. The sound design is a big factor in a lot of the sequences in the ocean.

The film is so much your baby as a filmmaker, but you also turn in a great performance as Sando. Was he immediately recognizable to you? Who did you model that character after?

He was definitely immediately recognizable to me. I’ve had very similar relationships as these boys. I’ve had relationships with Sando-like figures all through my life, particularly through their age period. I mean, my upbringing was very similar to this. I knew most of these characters quite well. I didn’t model Sando after one specific person. I think there’s a bit of a license there because Sando is just one piece in the fabric of the film and I wanted him to be the antidote to Pikelet’s father, who is quite restrained and conservative. He’s loving and gentle and thoughtful, but quite conservative. The idea was that, as a sort of mentor figure, Sando paralleled the role of Pikelet’s father, but was the antithesis of his father.

You directed a string of episodes when you were starring on The Mentalist. I know that must be a completely different beast, but that must help you nonetheless. What did you find most challenging on this directorial debut on a feature film?

Because it’s such a personal story, I think the most challenging thing for me was keeping a perspective on the bigger picture of the story for audiences that do know this world. I love movies where you enter into a world that you’re not familiar with or that’s sort of somewhat unexpected, but there’s an integrity to the world where there isn’t anything that takes you out of it once you’re in it. You’re in it for the entire film, even if it’s a science fiction film. A fantastic movie that I love is Children of Men, the Alfonso Cuaron one with Clive Owen. You enter into that world and you just buy right into it completely. There’s no bad notes that take you out of what that world is. I enjoy that aspect of watching a film, especially if I don’t know anything about it and just going in and going,”Wow, I’ve gone into this other sort of dimension.” To keep perspective on the storytelling and keeping that world authentic, whether it’s personal or not, is a challenge. But going back to what you were saying about working on shows and directing episodes of The Mentalist, it’s a completely different animal. But obviously, it’s great training ground—a great sort of practice field for doing something that immerses like Breath.

Breath offers this bit of poetry in the form of narration: “How strange it was to see men do something beautiful. Something pointless and elegant, as though nobody saw or cared.” It’s a wonderful meditation on prescribed identities and finding your own way. What does that signify for you on a personal level?

I like what you’re saying: prescribed identifies. I’ve articulated that the film’s about identities, but I haven’t used “prescribed identity” and I’m going to steal that from you, Kee. [Laughs] Because that’s exactly what it is. To me, there were so many times as a young man this pressure to comply to a certain masculine ideal. So often, you would feel like a failure because you fell short in some way or you couldn’t live up to this expectation. It puts a lot of pressure on the individual. That is a prescribed identity. What I wanted to do was set up that framework of the stereotypical, masculine, macho sort of idea and subvert it through Pikelet’s strength as an individual, in the moment that he finds his strength as an individual that defines him as a unique person. And then he sees that in his father as well. That was important to me because I’ve felt those moments as a kid. I fell short and I didn’t understand why I fell short or why I had to comply to a prescribed identity.

The Mentalist is far-reaching. You go to South Korea and they’re still rerunning episodes. I saw it come on in Austria the other day. You’ve cemented one legacy. What legacy are you looking to leave behind now?

I want to make films. I want to become a filmmaker. I want to make films that connect with people, you know? Whether I’ll be achieve that—I don’t know. I don’t think of it as so much a legacy. It’s more about just not taking the opportunities that I have for granted, more than anything. And growing. I wanna grow. I wanna learn. I wanna share these experiences with people. And when I say that, I don’t mean sharing the film with people so much as sharing the experiences of making the film because you do share that experience with a lot of people. That’s what you carry away. The film is a byproduct of that shared experience.

Is there a sophomore feature on the horizon?

There is. I’ve optioned Tim Winton’s most recent book called The Shepherd’s Hut, which is a great book. It’s tense and brutal and speaks a lot to intergeneralational, toxic masculinity.

[bolachasgratis]

TakeRoot Festival 2019: our picks

The Grote Zaal of De Oosterpoort during the 2018′s TakeRoot festival.

TakeRoot Festival. Saturday, 2 November 2019, at De Oosterpoort, Groningen, The Netherlands. Tickets for sale here.

Coming of age in the era of MySpace meant stumbling into a lot of “A little bit of everything, except country and rap” on your fellow scenester’s profiles. Fast forward some 15 years, and there’s a rapper headlining your favorite indie festival, much to the disgust of a few folks who haven’t grown from their proud everything-except-country-and-rap pedestal. But most young alternative Europeans still look at country music with the same disgusted look that your aunt made the first time she stumbled upon a 50 Cent music video.

“Country” might be a term that is too generic to describe what TakeRoot is all about - so let’s go with their definition. TakeRoot is a festival for “past, present and future American music”. Its focus on “americana” – a more palatable term that encompasses not only country music, but also every genre that developed in its margins – would mean a ticket office disaster in most places in mainland Europe, but this is different. We are in Groningen, in the north of the Netherlands, the most americana-positive country in the continent, and the only place where the best European festival of the genre could take place. Young and old, coming from other Dutch cities or from abroad, you’ll struggle to find an unhappy face in the crowd. It’s our fourth time in a row visiting Groningen for the TakeRoot festival, and this year we decided to tell you all about it. Because if there’s a festival that your friends at Bolachas are jealous of not having invented it, it’s definitely TakeRoot. Bear with us while we swoon over one of the most #bolachascore events of the festival season.

TakeRoot 2018′s aftermovie, featuring Father John Misty, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers, Marlon Williams, and more.

24 artists playing 6 stages in 8 hours might seem like an overload, and it’s not always easy to find time for a bathroom, drink or food break. (Truth be told, we can always find time for a quick drink break in the amazing gift from God that is that craft beer bar just below the foyer stage.) Every year, some painful clashes end up breaking your heart. But, unlike most festivals, those don’t happen because of poor planning – they happen because the odds of a fan of the genre not liking even 1/4 of the artists are just too small. Fortunately, we’re here to help you navigate the lineup.

16:00. You’ve just arrived, found a place upstairs to hang your coat for a couple of euros (it’s going to be freezing outside after midnight, kids), you’re trying to make a sense of the huge Oosterpoort building, with its multiple rooms and stairways. It’s very likely that you’ll end up in the spacious Foyer stage where you’ll find some of the most energetic bands of the lineup. But, if you’re in the know and got there early enough, you know you cannot miss Caroline Spence (Binnenzaal, 16:00). Located to your left as soon as you get inside the building, Binnenzaal is not the biggest room in the venue, and it might get crowded as soon as the artist takes the stage, so be quick if you want to see her. But if you do, you’ll be rewarded with some of the catchiest tunes of 2019 (“Who’s Gonna Make My Mistakes” and “Long Haul” were featured in our playlist earlier this year). Spence’s second LP Mint Condition earned her comparisons to the likes of Emmylou Harris, who features in the chorus of the album’s title track.

17:00. You’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to decide where to go next, and so did I. To my amazement, I just realized I’ve never seen Josh Ritter (Grote Zaal, 17:00) live, so this ends up being an easier choice than I was expecting. The singer-songwriter has been around for a while, releasing stellar albums since 1999, and is still getting it right in 2019. The recent triad Sermon on the Rocks/Gathering/Fever Breaks is too good for me to skip him (there are more tracks on our playlists than I expected), but if he’s not your thing, you’re lucky because it’s one of the most packed hours of the fest. If you liked Caroline Spence, Molly Tuttle (Attic, 17:00) is the most logic sequence. Her latest album When You’re Ready, released last spring, is almost as catchy as Spence’s; if you’re looking for something else, Tyler Ramsey (Basement, 17:00) is your man. The former Band of Horses lead guitar player brings not one, but two new records with him (including the soundtrack for the Italian film L’ospite), the first since 2011′s The Valley Wind. Or, you know, you can try to watch a bit of each of the three shows. But beware: the Attic and the Basement stages are the smallest in the building.

18:00. Did Josh Ritter let you down, or did any of the other two shows end already? My favorite room in the Oosterpoort is hosting the magnificent The Delines (Kleine Zaal, 17:45). With their latest album The Imperial still somewhat fresh, and with a new single that was featured in last week’s playlist, the self-described retro country band fronted by Amy Boone has the songwriter and novelist Willy Vlautin in its ranks. And you don’t want to miss a chance to see Vlautin, especially now that he has put the beloved Richmond Fontaine to sleep. If they’re not your thing, and you’re looking for something more energetic, you’ll always have Lilly Hiatt (Foyer, 18:00). 2017′s Trinity Lane still spins at least once every couple of months, and we haven’t seen her live yet, so this might be it.

Another tough choice as 19:00 approaches. Orville Peck’s (Basement, 18:45) debut album ended up not being the magnificent work of art we wanted it to be from the first couple of singles, but we’re still curious to see him after the raving reviews his live show got at last week’s London Calling festival in Amsterdam. At the big room, Jay Farrar’s Son Volt (Grote Zaal, 19:00) are headlining. Regarded in the beginning as the true heirs of Uncle Tupelo following their demise in the early 90s, they failed to crossover to the “indie” world as their counterparts Wilco did, but they’re still a solid reference in the American roots world.

20:00. Hopefully, you found a bit of space in this schedule for a bite, because it ain’t over yet. Erin Rae (Binnenzaal, 20:15) was one of our highlights at last year’s Once in a Blue Moon festival despite the very early stage time on a rainy day; we can’t wait to see her in a seated venue with one more year of road experience. 

21:00. In that same festival we also saw this year’s TakeRoot headliners, Drive-By Truckers (Grote Zaal, 21:15), so we’re going to skip them in favor of one of our favorite American songwriters of the decade. Three years after we had an epiphany while seeing him in the same exact room, at roughly the same time, Robert Ellis (Kleine Zaal, 21:15) brings his latest album Texas Piano Man to an audience that knows him too well not to go see him again. He’s been extensively covered in our website, and his latest two albums were our album of the week in two different occasions. If you follow us, you don’t need us to tell you his live show is unmissable; if you don’t, well, now you know.

22:00. An hour went by and you’re still in wonder. Will you check out DBT? Will you go recharge with some well deserved beverage (my choice three years ago was an excellent single malt in a small specialty bar that I hope is back this year) or will you follow me into the basement for A.A. Bondy (Basement, 22:15)? The synth-heavy and strangely addictive Enderness, his first album in eight years, might seem a bit removed from the rest of a guitar-heavy lineup, but excellent songwriting is excellent songwriting, and Bondy makes total sense here.

23:00. It’s almost over, and we refuse to help you on this one, because we have no clue. But there’s something for every mood: folk singer Willie Watson (Binnenzaal, 22:45) is there for the contemplative, tea drinking crowd; if you want to put your dancing boots on, follow Quaker City Night Hawks (Foyer, 22:45); if you're into what I can only describe as “krautcountry” and want to see a modular synth and a pedal steel in the same stage, Garrett T. Capps (Kleine Zaal, 23:00) comes from San Antone to be your man. 

Don’t forget your coat - it’s cold outside and it’s still a bit of a walk to your nightcap whiskey at De Toeter and your kapsalon at Şafak, before you lose all hope of getting into Vera and go back into your hotel room, half drunk and very, very happy. Trust us, we’ve all been there before. And we intend on doing so as long as we can.