#involves George being George and Lewis being Lewis and a lot of tension

[alpinelogy]

📓 - some fic ideas with George? :D

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

Hello I swear I did not mean to take this long but unfortunately time is fake and I only have one (1) real concrete idea with George and I am 99% sure you know it already but I am also rotating several other ideas at any point in time so let me introduce you to the shooting at the sun lore and the actor au I built around it (For those not in the know or no remembering rn, shooting at the sun is a graphics set I made a few weeks back, linked above)

There is a lot of yapping about actors gewis starring in a fictional adaptation of a fictional novel down below the cut :3c

First of all, context on Shooting at the Sun, the book, in the universe I'm playing around in here because it matters to me.

The way I imagine it is that it is a sort of film noir detective novella from the 1950s, set in a (then) contemporary Monaco. I'm not really familiar with European literature of that time but I would imagine that the themes prevalent then were similar to the ones prevalent in American literature, that is (iirc) not fitting in. So I would imagine the novella is thematically somewhere there. And really that isnt important, the important part is that it has two protagonists, a pair of detectives, who arrive in Monaco to investigate a fire. The plot and everything is largely irrelevant, what is important though is that the two detectives have a lot of sexual tension between then, though nothing explicit romantic or sexual ever happens on screen, though it is largely understood that the tension is intentional.

There was a movie adaptation of the novella released a few years after it came out which came out to middling reviews, though since then it has become a sort of a cult classic amongst movie fans.

Present day, Toto Wolff is a well established director of the more arthouse end of the spectrum movies, and he announces a new adaptation of the novella and thats where the gewis bit actually starts. Well a loose adaptation, loose enough that some points are more important than others.

Okay lore out of the way actual gewis yapping now:

Lewis is cast almost immediately and it makes sense. He is a regular collaborator of Toto, he fits the role to a T, and he is also working on it in terms of production (asdfg forgot the term for it lol). He is also a well respected actor who has done his fair share of roles in popular franchises and successful one off movies, both within and outside of the UK. He is a shoe in for the role of the older and more experienced detective no questions asked.

George meanwhile, is a bit of a disaster, as George always tends to be. He is UKs newest theatre darling but this is his will be his first time acting in a movie and the only reason he even took that role is because Alex practically shoved him into it. Cause you see, he grew up admiring Lewis but somehow ended up as a theatre actor on accident. And well, this is a possibility to co-star with his childhood idol, but he has read the script and Alexander I cannot co-star in this with Lewis he is literally my gay awakening. Alexander. ALEXANDER.

Alex, by the way, is Georges childhood buddy just like irl, and is also a stage actor, slightly less successful than George but still a well established guy. And in the spirit of being Alex he is also a little shit and is the one who pushes George into taking the role. Payback for spending his teenage years watching George deny he is into Lewis or something.

Initially, the filming is sorta shit. Both George and Lewis do their best but it just is not working, George thinks he is not doing his best, he would almost say he is getting stage fright if he was not trained out of stage fright years ago, but maybe being so starstruck by Lewis is doing things to him still. He is doing his best but his best is not enough and he is ready to pull out of the movie for an actual film actor to fill his role.

The thing is, Lewis is the guy that suggested for George to take the other leading role and even tho Toto did not object, Lewis really, really wants George to succeed. This is where I start loosing the plot however the point is, plot happens and gewis do get close, and George looses some of his starstruck stage fright and actually the scenes start sounding good. Sure he still lives in fear of the latter scenes of the movie where the tension is really high but the first part at least is nice, fun even, he would go so far as to call Lewis a genuine friend.

Alex, for the record, is having a field day with Georges fumbling. In the background in between filming days George is still absolutely loosing it, even after getting close with Lewis. Probably because of getting close with Lewis. Professional actor but cannot act for shit in his personal life, he is not fooling anyone that his crush on Lewis is still not very much a thing and Alex can and will be seated here with his popcorn. He is already threatening to sneak himself into the premiere just so he can see George absolutely fumble it in a movie. Affectionate, of course.

The lost plot continues but somehow or something they get to the more tension filled scenes, struggle, and solve the struggle by fucking. How? Idk man, like I said, here the plot is lost beyond vibes and gewis dancing around each other. Oh yeah at some point the tension is actually real and then it is also real but less tense and more… anticipatory? Idk how to say it lol.

Anyway, the movie is successful, Gewis get praised for their tension and chemistry on screen as if they did not make out on set every single chance they got, probably get an award for their acting at some point on the film festival circuit. George gets asked if he’s planning to return to stage or stay in movies, he says he does not know (he fully knows that he would do another movie with Lewis in a heartbeat. Otherwise? He has no idea), Lewis idk what he does

[themultifanshipper]

hear me out race engineer reader x George? like George gets distracted by reader's voice during FP which reminds him of last night 👀 I think you know where I'm going with this lol

George was going crazy.

The sound of your unintentional dirty talk over the radio was keeping him from concentrating on his session as his focus wavered around each turn of the circuit.

Terrible edited pics courtesy of yours truly

I was gonna use pictures of lando shirtless with a helmet, then I thought to myself "why not put my nonexistant photoshop talents to good use"

Warnings: Race engineer!reader, smut, mention of phone sex, tension, dirty talk, George being frustrated and horny, Cum, lots of cum, complete opposite of a professional workplace environment, and when you thought it couldn't get any worse... helmet kink

“You need to get on top, George”

He swore silently as he almost missed the turn for the fifth time that session. It was only practice but he would rather not crash his car before the first race of the season. But you weren't making it easy for him.

“Fuck, you're getting close”

Yes he was losing time to Lewis, which drove him mad at the best of times. But right now he had other things to worry about, like the fact that you were seemingly unaware that you were basically dirty talking him through a lap.

“It's getting wetter”

'Yeah, the weather' his brain unhelpfully supplied. He was only half way through the last lap but he was slowly feeling like he was loosing his grip on reality. You had to be doing this on purpose. There was no way you couldn’t hear the double-entendres you'd been saying for the past 45 minutes. And yet…

“Your vitals are spiking, you alright?”

‘Yeah no shit’ George thought. He was half hard in his suit at the moment, and with your innocently uttered filthy words it was only getting worse.

He knew it was a bad idea getting involved with his race engineer, but it was too late now.

George was initially nervous when they told him he was getting a new engineer this year,  but when he found out it was you he relaxed somewhat.

The two of you had always gotten along very well, ever since you'd joined his side of the garage in the engineering department. So well in fact, that there had been a couple of drunk incidents last year involving alcohol, dark club corners, and wandering hands.

Nothing more than some heavy petting, but still, the attraction was there and you had mutually agreed that you should stay away from each other physically if you were going to keep a working relationship and avoid drama.

But when they offered you the new position, you could hardly refuse. And you hadn't seen each other since the end of last season so any lingering tension was sure to have dissipated, right?

Wrong.

The night before testing began, you sent him a text to wish him luck. Which turned into a conversation. Which turned into a 2 hour-long phone call that ended with an orgasm each and a couple of commemorative photos.

The picture of your bed soaked in your juices, your thighs on display was burned into his brain forever.

And right now he was fucking thinking about it while driving at 300 kilometers per hour.

Not a great mix.

He got p12. Fucking shameful.

Needless to say when he got out of the car he made a beeline for you and dragged you into his driver's room, ignoring your questions about where he was taking you.

He slammed the door behind him and threw his helmet on the massage table.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing to me out there?” he growled as he started unzipping his race suit.

You frowned at him innocently (even though you knew exactly what you were doing) “I don't know what you're talking about, George”

He stalked towards you and trapped you between him and the table, pinning you with his hips, and you could feel through his fireproofs how much you'd affected him.

“Don't give me that bullshit. ‘Does it feel good, George?’ ” he hissed “anyone with half a brain listening in would know you weren't talking about the fucking car”.

You could barely contain the smirk that threatened to show on your face and you eyes twinkled with laughter.

“And what are you going to do about it?” You crossed your arms and stood up straighter, standing your ground against his impressive figure.

He narrowed his eyes and looked you up and down. “I'm going to do exactly what I've wanted to do to you since last year, and when I'm done you're not going to be able to walk out of here without help…”

You shivered and he picked you up swiflty to sit you on the table before crashing his lips to yours, hands going to your arse as he grinded his hips into yours.

This was familiar territory, kissing him was just like you remembered, frantic and desperate as his hands wandered across your body.

You quickly got to work undressing each other and it took less than 20 seconds to get you naked, and you were everything he'd dreamed of.

You panted into his mouth as the cold air made you shiver. His hand knocked against something, and when he looked, it was his helmet that was still perched on the end of the massage table.

He stared at it for a second before fixing his heated gaze on you.

If you went back in time and told yourself that you would be wearing George's race helmet as he ate you out like a man starved, making you shake and writhe on his driver's room massage table, you wouldn't have believed it.

George was relentless, alternating between broad licks and drawing precise patterns on your clit with his tongue, and he brought you to the edge faster than his lap time from earlier.

As soon as he slid a finger into your weeping cunt you were a goner. You came, clamping down on his finger as your hands all but yanked his hair straight off his talented head.

The visor of his helmet had steamed up a bit so you put it up to see George licking his fingers clean.

When your eyes met he choked on his spit. “Fuck, darlin’ you look hot with my helmet on. Maybe I should get you one to keep for… special occasions.” He licked his lips and rose to his feet to take it off you.

He kissed you again and before he could put the helmet down, you grabbed his arm and whined.

“George, put it on… please?” You blushed.

He just raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Does the idea of me fucking you with my helmet on turn you on too?”

You nodded shyly and lay down on the table, wrapping your legs around him, making his cock nudge against you and he hissed.

“What a pair we make” he chuckled and put the helmet on “maybe I should get custom matching ones made then”

The thought made your heart flutter. The idea was so… couple-y.  You weren't sure you were ready for that but the thought was quickly replaced as he slid his cock up and down your folds to get it nice and wet.

It was big, bigger than any of your exes, and perfectly curved upwards.

You started thinking maybe you were going to need help walking out of here.

He fucked you hard and deep. Expert strokes pulling you to the edge as his cock brushed perfectly against all the best spots. Not to mention the sight of his naked body looming over you with that helmet on…

You didn't last long, and you pulled him over the edge with you as you came with a shout, thighs trying to close around George's waist at the slight overstimulation.

But George was stronger, he managed to pull out and streaks of cum landed all over your stomach and puffy lips as he growled out "all fucking mine"

His fingers came and collected some of it, rubbing it along your folds before plunging them inside the wet heat. You gasped and and writhed, his long fingers immediately going for your g-spot.

He pulled out his fingers and collected some more of his cum, whike his other hand went to grab your jaw.

"Want a taste? Open up, sweetheart"

He didn't even finish his sentence before your mouth was open and your tongue was out.

The mix of your taste and his combined made your eyes roll back and you moaned around his fingers. You were out of it.

You were wrecking him.

He pulled the helmet off and you moaned at the sight of him. His hair was soaked and plastered to his forehead, pupils wide, and his lips were raw like he'd been biting at them.

What a fucking sight. And you weren't much better off.

As you stared at each other like that, something between you changed.

You realised that day, George Russell was fucking gone for you. And you matched his freak perfectly.

 

He got a fine for being late to his post practise duties, but who cared about a fine? He was going to be spending much, much more on the kinky matching helmets.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 8 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7)

Nixon - March 1944

The new year saw no improvement to Emily and Nixon’s relationship despite his fumbled attempts at reconciliation. Nixon felt that he went out of his way to make small talk with her, to be friendly (especially in the mornings) and to be enthusiastic about her work. Emily was outwardly friendly, to an appropriate degree, but Nixon could sense the barrier she had put up between them. When they had first met, she had been so open and warm, bordering on desperate for his friendship. Now, she made polite small talk and performed her tasks with a new rigid professionalism. Nixon couldn’t help but feel that this behavior was exclusive to him. He saw how she interacted with the men in the pub, in the mess, and on the rifle range; she didn’t seem to have a problem with any of them.

On more than one occasion Nixon found himself complaining to Winters about Emily’s insufferable behavior.

“Didn’t you find her attitude obnoxious before?” Winters asked.

“Yes, but I got used to that. Now she’s changed it up on me again! It's annoying is what it is,” Nixon said.

Winters dipped a spoon into a bowl of soup and brought it to his mouth, patiently waiting for Nixon to continue, “its the unpredictability, the mood swings! Women.” Nixon scoffed.

“Well,” Winters ate another spoonful of soup, “you were a jerk.”

Nixon’s brow furrowed, “not enough of a jerk for her to give me the cold shoulder for three months.”

“Has it been three months?”

Nixon didn’t answer. “You two still talk, I’ve seen you,” Winters said, “maybe she’s focusing on her work. It has gotten busier.”

“Yeah we talk, but not like before. And she seems to have plenty of time to talk to Harry or George Luz.”

Winters’ mouth crooked into a small, thoughtful smile, “why do you think it bothers you so much, Nix?”

Nixon caught his friends smirk, “Oh no,” he shook his head, “its not like that at all. She’s a kid. Besides, I’m invested elsewhere in this boring town."

Winters cocked an eyebrow, “so this really is just about friendship?”

“Friendship, friendliness - I just want things to go back to normal!”

Winters nodded and turned his attention back to his soup, “maybe this is the new normal.”

Nixon was running out of patience and hope. As March crept along he decided that he would simply have to come to terms with the impersonal working relationship that Winters called the new normal.

“Morning,” Nixon entered the intelligence HQ room with a manila folder already in hand. He was flipping through the aerial photos inside.

“Good morning, sir,” Emily said, barely looking up from her typewriter.

“We received some aerial photos this morning. Here look at this,” Nixon said, stretching out a black and white print to Emily.

She took it, “what’s this of?”

“Undisclosed,” Nixon said, “but we’ll be getting a lot more. Our office needs to piece the photos together and start building sand tables of the geography.”

Emily blew air out of her cheeks, “Wow, so this might be..”

“Yeah,” Nixon caught her gaze, “this might be it.”

“Okay, yeah we’ll get started on this.”

“Great.” Nixon shut the manila folder firmly and threw it on Emily’s desk. “Let me know what you need.”



“Will do, sir.”

Nixon waited until his back was turned to roll his eyes. He hated it when she called him sir. No one else would hear it, but he could hear the contempt in her voice. She wasn’t saying sir out of respect. He knew that she was doing it purposely to annoy him. Sure, he couldn’t prove it, but he knew it.

Nixon dropped into his desk chair just as Vest entered the room with uncharacteristic hesitance.

“Uh, Miss Rooney?” Nixon’s dark eyes flicked over to Emily. An unexplainable feeling of dread grew in his stomach. It grew stronger as he saw Emily’s face change. She was sensing the difference in Vest’s energy just as he had. Vest made his way over to her desk with a letter in hand.

“A letter for you,” Vest cleared his throat, “from the war department.”

Nixon sat straighter in his chair as Vest made his awkward retreat from the room. Emily ripped the edge of the envelope with trembling hands and slowly pulled the typed letter from its folds.

Nixon watched her eyes run across the ink-black lines. His heart beat in his ears in anticipation for her reaction. Finally, Emily let out a shuddering breath and the letter dropped from her hands. Fat tears began rolling down her cheeks. She pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to squash her sobs, her body folding in on itself as if to guard her from the world around her. Jolted into action, Nixon stood abruptly from his chair and was beside her in two strides. He positioned his body on the edge of her desk, blocking her from the curious looks from the other intelligence staff.

“What happened?” he asked in a low voice.

Emily shut her eyes tightly against the tears, she shook her head indicating her inability to speak. Instead, she held up the letter. Nixon took it and read,

Dear Miss Rooney,

The following information is provided in regards to your fiancee, Corporal John Elliott. Your fiancee sustained significant wounds of the left leg and arm and on 11 March, 1944 was reported as being in a naval hospital in London, England for further treatment. You may be sure that he is….

Nixon stopped reading as confused relief softened the knot in his stomach. 

“Wounded, wounded in action,” he said.

Emily nodded. She ran her finger tips under her eyes. Her cheeks were sopping wet with tears, her eyelashes heavy with salt.

“Here,” Nixon handed her the handkerchief from his pocket. “It’s clean. Well, cleanish.”

Emily accepted it and swallowed hard, doing her best to compose herself. She patted her cheeks dry with the fold of the linen cloth.

“You okay?” Nixon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. This was their first physical interaction in months, but neither of them seemed to think anything of it. It was such a natural action considering the circumstances.

“Yeah,” she gulped, “I’m alright.” Emily exhaled, “it took me by surprise is all.”



“Naturally,” Nixon rubbed her back.

“I don’t know why I’m such a mess,” Emily’s voice cracked with emotion.

“You don’t need to excuse your reaction,” Nixon murmured, “this is big, scary news.”



“I thought- I just thought that it was going to say he was dead.”

“I know, I thought so too.”

“Lew, I - I was,” she hesitated.

“What?” he encouraged her.

“Never mind,” she screwed her face up as if thinking against what she was about to say. Her lips were swollen from crying, her lipstick slightly smudged from the press of her hand. “If he’s wounded I have to see if I can visit him.”

Nixon nodded, “absolutely.”



“Do you think we could find out where he’s at?”

Nixon grimaced with uncertainty, “uhm, I mean it’s not our branch. But I’ll see what I can do.” Nixon was conflicted; this seemed awful personal for him to get involved with. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get involved with Emily’s business considering how things had been between them lately. Then again, this could be his chance to make amends, to show her that he meant well by her.

“Lewis, thank you!” her voice was full of gratitude and looking down at her red rimmed gray eyes, Nixon prayed he would be able to find the hospital easily.

A few days later Nixon interrupted Emily at lunch, which she was once again spending with Welsh.

“I found him,” Nixon announced. He expected Emily look more excited.

“Oh thank you, Nix! Where is he?” Emily asked.

Okay, back to some version of a nickname, Nixon observed. That was a good sign. “Worcestershire.”

“Who’s this?” Welsh looked between Emily and Nixon.

“Worcestershire? I thought he was in London?”

“He was. He was originally with an evacuation hospital but has since been moved to a convalescent hospital in Worcestershire.”

“Ah, okay,” Emily said.

“That’s a good thing,” Nixon said, “he’s on the mend! And Worcestershire is only north of here.”

“Who’s this we’re talking about?” Welsh asked again, this directed just at Emily. 


“Right, I guess I should go up this weekend,” Emily spoke more to herself than the men. “I guess I’ll have to make sure…” she trailed off lost in thought.

“You’ve got my permission. That’s all you need,” Nixon said.

Welsh opened his mouth again but didn’t have the chance to speak before Nixon interjected, “her fiancee Harry, we’re talking about her wounded fiancee.”

“Ah,” Harry looked down at his plate suddenly uninterested in the conversation.

“Get the train Saturday morning and plan to be back by Sunday night, okay?” Nixon rapped his knuckles on the wooden dining table. “Okay, I’ll see you both later,” and he walked off without Emily’s confirmation.

The Friday before she was set to leave Emily was a ball of nerves. She was constantly tapping her foot, or getting up to walk around aimlessly. Her restlessness was grating on Nixon’s nerves, which was the last thing he needed with the headache he was nursing.

“Would you relax?” he finally snapped.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emily stilled her foot. But then only a few minutes later her fingers began drumming against her desk. The rigid tension between them had relaxed slightly since the letter had come but Nixon still felt like he was walking on eggshells. He was worried about being too harsh with her or of saying anything insensitive. The last couple of days he had been careful to be extra kind to her. The stress of seeing her fiancee again for the first time in at least a year, and knowing that he would be both physically and mentally different than he had been, was a lot to carry. Nixon knew this. He had taken it upon himself to offset her edginess but boy was he finding that particularly difficult at that moment.

“What’re you gonna be like when we get to the continent huh?” Nixon demanded, “that’s gonna be stressful too, are you gonna be able to handle it?” So much for not being too harsh or insensitive.

Emily scowled at him from her desk, “leave me alone, Nixon. I’ll be fine when we get to the continent. Will you? Gunfire isn’t great for a hangover.”

Nixon narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t say anything more. Finally, they made it to dinner and she excused herself early due to her early departure in the morning. A peculiar sensation came over him as he watched her leave. Seeing her walk away in her woolen skirt with pieces of her dark, red-brown hair flying away from where they were pinned down felt like some sort of goodbye. An anxiety that she was leaving to join her fiancee never to come back tickled at the back of his mind. Beside him, Harry Welsh was looking after her in just the same way. Nixon couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for both of them.

Nixon didn’t have plans for the weekend. He had a loose arrangement with a beautiful young local woman but didn’t feel particularly motivated to call after her that Saturday. His mind was with Emily, worrying if she had made it to the hospital safely. He squandered the day away in bed, then the pub and during a brief window of sunshine, walking around the outskirts of town.

England was beginning to defrost into Spring. When Nixon looked out at the rolling hills of Wiltshire, he could almost pretend he wasn’t there because of a war. He might have been there to study, or to visit family friends. There was a peacefulness in the open plains that surrounded the town of Aldbourne. Every stone, field, and building held a storied past that seemed to look past the impending events as if to say I have been here before and I will be here after.

Later that night Nixon excused himself from a game of poker for a cigarette outside. It was chilly out, but he was grateful for the fresh air while it wasn’t raining. He was stood just in front of the steps leading ups to the HQ building when he spotted a figure making its way up the driveway, suitcase in hand. It was a woman’s figure and Nixon’s first thought was another nurse was coming to join the ranks. But it was such a late hour for a new member of staff to check in. As the figure grew closer he recognized her.

“Emily?” he asked in confusion. Her features became clearer as she stepped into the dim light coming from the building. There was a bizarre expression on her face. Nixon didn’t know what to think of her. “Emily?” he repeated, “what’re you doing back?”

She didn’t smile, but her countenance was calm, serene even. Her eyes were wide and bright despite the limited light. She parted her red lips and with the intonation of surprise said, “I’m free, Lew.”

[manage-mischief]

Regulus Black and The Darkest Shadows: Chapter 4

Read on AO3 or FF.net

A/N: CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF PAST ALCOHOL ABUSE! END OF CHAPTER! I really enjoyed writing this chapter! Hope you all like it! Thanks so much for the kind reviews, and thank you to my amazing beta @leah-ravenanne !

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 4: Misery Loves Company

September 13th, 1978

The next morning, Regulus left the Slytherin dorms early to avoid any undesired interactions. He made his way to the Great Hall to find McDrew. When Regulus arrived, he scanned the long house tables for a sign of the beefy Quidditch Captain.

Regulus finally spotted McDrew sitting halfway down the Slytherin Table with a couple of other students. McDrew noticed him staring.

“Oi, Black! C’mon, I’ve saved you a seat!” He gave a great wave and a large, goofy grin. Regulus sat down awkwardly.

“Here, Reg, let me introduce you to some of my friends. They’re not all Slytherins, but, then again, not everyone can be so lucky.” he laughed, cheekily.

“Can it, Woody!” The dark, curly-haired girl sitting across from him rolled her eyes. She glanced at Regulus warily. Regulus had a feeling that McDrew had instructed his friends to be nice.

“I’m Wilhelmina Young. Hufflepuff,” she introduced herself hesitantly.

“Oh yeah. You’re in my year,” said Regulus. “We had Care of Magical Creatures together.”

Wilhelmina nodded, warming up a bit. “I didn’t know if you’d remember. We were partners when we had to take care of that nasty Flobberworm in 3rd year.”

Regulus cringed at the memory.

“And you know Marlene McKinnon, I’m sure. She’s a Gryffindor.” McDrew continued the introductions, gesturing to the pretty blonde girl on his right.

Marlene narrowed her eyes. Regulus gulped. He was quite aware of Marlene’s feelings towards him. “Yeah, we’ve met,” said Marlene. “Although, I’m more familiar with your brother. He and I were…close…for a bit.” Marlene grinned while the rest of the crew cracked up. Regulus didn’t know how to respond to that. Sirius had been quite...active...before he’d realized his true affections for fellow Gryffindor Remus Lupin. Regulus wondered if they were still together.  

Marlene stared at him once again, sizing him up. “Well, I guess you’re alright. As long as you don’t go around preaching about the ‘Noble and Most Ancient House of Wankers’, we’ll get along fine.”

The girl sitting next to her chuckled and kissed her cheek. Regulus recognized her as fellow Slytherin Dorcas Meadowes. “Wotcher.” Dorcas nodded in greeting. “Sorry, ‘bout my girlfriend. She doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.”

Marlene playfully shoved her back and exclaimed, “You weren’t complaining about that at Madame Puddifoot’s last week!” The table erupted in laughter again, and Regulus joined them. He was shocked by how easily Marlene and the others had accepted him. Maybe things were looking up. Maybe, this whole turning his life around thing wouldn’t be so hard.

Just then, Regulus saw Woodrow wave towards the Great Hall Entrance. “Ah, here they are, late as always.”

Regulus looked over his shoulder to see who had arrived. His heart dropped. Three Ravenclaws were walking towards them. Two boys—one of whom Regulus recognized as George Fleet, the other he didn’t know—and one girl. A tall, brown-haired girl with clear plastic glasses and a fiery expression plastered on her face. Desdemona.

The three newcomers sat. Desdemona glared.

“Oi, Woody.  I thought you were joking when you said Black’d be joining us,” Desdemona said, pretending as if Regulus wasn’t there.

McDrew shot Regulus an apologetic look. “Des, c’mon. He wants to change. We’re gonna help him!”

Desdemona huffed. “‘Wants to change,’ my arse! You know what his lot did just a few days ago? That little girlfriend of his hexed Broderick in the middle of the hallway for no bloody reason! Called ‘im a Mudblood!” She gestured to the boy sitting next to her, who suddenly became very interested in his bowl of porridge. Broderick was clearly not in the mood for confrontation, or for Desdemona’s angry tirade.

Regulus quickly defended himself. “I didn’t know anything about that! And, anyways, you turned Ginger’s hair green. You got her back.”

Desdemona pounded her fist on the table, causing silverware to fly into the air. “OH RIGHT! BRODERICK HAD TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL WING! But, my, my, I’m so sorry poor little miss Death Eater Queen had to suffer with green hair for a few hours. Poor baby!”

People around them had begun to stare. McDrew put a hand on the tall girl’s shoulder. “Listen, if Reg says he wasn’t involved, he wasn’t involved. I believe him. And you more than anyone should respect the fact that he’s trying to turn over a new leaf. As long as that’s the case, we’re going to help him do it. Understand?”

She looked like she wanted to retort, but thought better of it. She nodded, frowning, and muttered under her breath, “Fine.” Desdemona glared at McDrew, but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned to Wilhelmina. “Can you pass the toast?”

The group of friends let out a collective breath of relief. Regulus got the feeling that McDrew was the leader of this little gang. At any rate, anyone who could convince Desdemona Lewis to tolerate Regulus was impressive.

---

After the meal ended, Regulus, Broderick, Desdemona, and Wilhelmina headed down to the dungeons for Potions. The atmosphere was still tense and a bit awkward.

“So,” Regulus said, trying to break the tension, “What d’you think Slughorn’ll have us make today?”

“I don’t like you, Black,” Desdemona snapped, not even looking at him.

“You don’t like anyone, Des,” Wilhelmina replied casually. Broderick laughed. Desdemona pouted.

“I just have high standards, that’s all,” she said haughtily.

“High standards? Is that what they’re calling ‘being a judgmental bitch’ nowadays?” Wilelmina teased back.

Regulus cracked a smile, but his amusement seemed to really set Desdemona off. Broderick stepped in front of her to try and hold her back. “Des,” he said in a soothing, deep voice. “Remember what Woodrow said? We’re trying to help Regulus. He doesn’t want to be like the rest of those Death Eaters anymore. He wants to change. Remember, Woodrow told us. We have to be empathetic. We have to understand.”

“Understand? I understand! I understand that his little cult wants to eradicate Muggle culture! They don’t think people like you and me deserve to be at Hogwarts, because my mum’s a Muggle, or because I can’t prove my dad was a wizard, or because I was raised by Muggles or whatever! And I’m supposed to just accept that he’s changed? I may be judgmental and choosy about who I trust, but it’s for good reason! Because if we put our trust in the wrong person, we could end up dead!”

Desdemona stormed off ahead of them, leaving Regulus feeling as awful as ever. Despite his dislike of Desdemona’s unpleasant attitude towards him, she was completely justified. She had every right to hate Regulus. Was he being an idiot? Was it really possible for him to cut ties with his past, when his past involved such hurt and pain?

Broderick patted him on the back. “Hey, mate. I’m Muggleborn, and I still have faith you can change. If we don’t allow people from You-Know-Who’s side to change their minds and join us, we’ll never win the war. It’s just Des. You know, she’s got quite a temper and, between you and me, a ton of anxiety. She’ll come around, though. And I can tell, you’re not as off-your-rocker as that Ginger chick.”  

Regulus was shocked at how kind of a person Broderick was—how kind all of McDrew’s friends were. Here Regulus was, asking them to accept him despite the awful people he’d aligned himself with, despite the awful things he had done. And they were willing to give him a second chance he knew he didn’t remotely deserve.

Regulus forced a small smile, still considering how he was ever going to fit in with this new group.

---

Despite a rocky start, Regulus’s attempts to gain new friends had been growing more and more successful with each passing day. By the end of the week, Regulus had taken to studying in the library with Broderick during their free periods, had accompanied Woodrow and Marlene on an adventure to visit the House Elves in the Kitchens, and had even managed to have a thirty second conversation with Desdemona that had not ended in screaming or cursing.

By Friday night, Regulus whistled happily in his dorm while he put gel in his hair before the year’s first Slug Club dinner. He had felt freer and happier than he had in a long time.

As Regulus strolled towards Slughorn’s office, he heard a strange whimpering. Curious, he followed the noises down an unfamiliar corridor, where he discovered their source—Desdemona. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, quietly crying. She was dressed up for Slughorn’s party, in a midnight blue dress and silver shoes. However, her makeup was running down her face, ruining the aesthetic. Her fingers were tapping noticeably at her side. Regulus was about to back away from the scene when she looked up and noticed him watching. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“What the bloody hell are you looking at?”

“Um, I was just…going…I’ll leave you to it,” Regulus sputtered. He felt a pang of regret in his chest. Sure, he and Desdemona mixed about as well as oil and water. Sure, they had been hellbent on outcompeting and insulting each other for six years now. However, in the moment, she seemed vulnerable. He sighed, sure he would regret his next decision. But, he was trying to turn over a new leaf. And that included rectifying his past mistakes. Maybe, this could be a start.

Slowly, he approached her and slid down the wall, taking a seat onto the cool stone floor beside her. He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Er…everything ok?” He winced at his tactlessness. Clearly everything was not okay.

For a moment, Regulus thought Des was going to snap at him. Then, her face melted and she took a deep breath. “Do you really want to know?” She asked, leaning her head back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. She tapped her fingers together more rapidly. Regulus didn’t quite know how to respond, so he simply nodded his head, inviting her to continue.

“My mum. She…ah…she died.”

Regulus’s heart sank for her. He was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say to comfort the girl? “Oh. Sorry,” was all he could muster.

She shook her head and laughed emptily. “No. I shouldn’t be shocked. In fact, it’s a surprise it took her this long.”

“Was she sick?” Regulus asked.

“In a way.” Des furrowed her brow, as if considering whether to divulge any more private information. “I guess I can tell you. Since I’ve been ordered to be your ��friend’ now.”

“I’ll ignore the sarcasm,” Regulus quipped, hoping to put her more at ease.

“What a shame,” she replied. After a brief pause, she continued: “My aunt always says it’s best to share your thoughts and emotions. ‘Don’t let yourself be controlled by them.’ I tell her that’s bullshit. If people knew half the things that went on inside my head…”

She paused, stopping herself. “Well, anyways,” said Desdemona, returning to the story. “My mum kind of…lost it…when my dad died. She had run away to the States to be with him. Given up everything. The family hardly approved, but she was head over heels. Hippies, the pair of them. Hence the name,” she gestured to herself.

Regulus chuckled. “Oh right. Desdemona Rain.”

“Awful, isn’t it? Anyways, dad died—I don’t know how, none of my family does. Mum wouldn’t tell them. After that, she brought me back to England. She started drinking. A lot. And then, one day, she left me with my aunt and uncle while she went to the store, and she never came back. I hadn’t heard from her in over ten years. Last my aunt had known, she was in some sort of rehab center up north. She…she didn’t want to see any of us…she didn’t want me to visit…” Desdemona took another deep breath. “The center…they—they called Aunt Eliza yesterday and said she had been released, then relapsed and OD’ed. I just found out.”

Regulus watched her as she attempted to steady her shaky breath. “I’m sorry. Do you…do you want me to walk you back to your dorm or something?”

“No, no,” she said, “Please don’t be nice to me. It makes me feel pathetic when you’re nice to me.”

Regulus laughed lightly.

“And besides,” she continued, wiping the makeup from under her eyes and smoothing her dress, “I can’t very well go back knowing that you’ll be hogging the time of whatever influential person Slughorn has brought for us this evening! Git.” Pulling out a small pocket mirror, she examined her reflection and dabbed away the remaining black streaks on her cheeks.

Regulus stood and hesitantly offered a hand to Desdemona. To his surprise, she took it and pulled herself up. Regulus awkwardly dropped her hand and spoke. “I’m sorry, Desdemona. Truly. I know that the things I’ve said and the people I’ve associated with in the past have hurt you. I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. I like to tell myself that I never really believed those things, that I was trying to fit in and make my family proud. But, I didn’t try to stop it. And any pain I’ve caused you—directly or indirectly…You don’t deserve to be bullied or put down because of who your parents were or how you were raised. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll say this: you’re an amazing witch. Probably better than any of the rest of us.”

“Wow. Can I get that in writing?” She joked. Then, seriously, she said, “Please, call me Des. I think I can allow it, seeing as you’ve unlocked a piece of my tragic backstory. I expect you to return the favor someday.”

“Come on, we’re already running late. Let’s go…Des.”

[arecomicsevengood]

More Quarantine Movies

Going to put up this log of what I’ve seen now, as some of the stuff I liked the most is leaving The Criterion Channel at the end of the month. I really don’t know if anyone gets anything out of these posts, these are mostly synopses and they’re maybe spoiler-heavy. Let me give you the gist of it now: Otto Preminger’s a really good filmmaker whose movies are really interesting, Jean Arthur’s a great actress who enlivens everything and is also in a bunch of good-to-great movies. Also, I didn’t write about it but I rewatched Death Race 2000, that movie rules, feels relevant to today’s politics, and is leaving Criterion Channel at the end of the month.

The Pawnbroker (1964) dir. Sidney Lumet

Based on novel by Edward Lewis Wallant, whose The Tenants Of Moonbloom was reprinted by NYRB Classics with a Dave Eggers intro. Also some of the earliest nudity in a mainstream American film. About the misanthropy of a holocaust survivor, living in New York City, and interacting with black people who vaguely feel like racist caricatures, in part because it’s a movie about a misanthrope told from his perspective. A ton of movies about race from this era feel dated, this feels legitimately edgy, which is a term that gets thrown around somewhat ironically now or viewed as a pejorative, like something trying to offend, this does feel like a genuine attempt to be honest and push things forward (I really was not expecting that nudity) but also doesn’t feel totally successful, definitely not particularly enjoyable.

Shockproof (1949) dir. Douglas Sirk

I haven’t seen Sirk’s later melodramas, this one intrigued me in part because the screenplay was written by Samuel Fuller, and it’s sort of a pulpy noir thing. A woman, fresh out of jail, ends up living with her parole officer who is trying to keep her on the straight and narrow and away from her criminal ex, but they end up falling in love. There’s a thing where the male lead’s younger brother talks about how the lady is beautiful that I sort of wish wasn’t in there, feels creepy to me. There’s a bit of a shift in the narrative with the third act, where the lovers end up on the run, the once-upstanding man now a criminal on account of love, but they are having the endurance of their love tested by circumstance, is one of those things where a story which felt somewhat unique over the course of its telling shifts into something more recognizable.

…And The Pursuit Of Happiness (1986) dir Louis Malle

I have watched most of Louis Malle’s feature films at this point, I believe, and had a vague curiosity about what his documentaries were like. This one, made shortly after he’d moved to the U.S. and married Candice Bergen (something that comes up in Susan Seidelman’s Smithereens, in that some prostitutes read aloud from a fashion magazine that discusses it) he made a film talking to various recent immigrants. He covers a lot of ground, covering people working as doctors, large communities living in housing projects and causing racial tension with black neighbors (who both resent the smell of the food they cook but also suspect they don’t know their rights as the property developers plan to evict everyone and have the projects demolished). By and large everyone spoke to believes in the notion of the American dream of working hard to get ahead. Malle also speaks to anti-immigration think tank people and border patrols. Nothing too surprising but a lot of ground gets covered in a short amount of time. If I didn’t learn anything I at least admired that it felt non-didactic. Anything with more of a point of view or an argument would probably be disingenuous were it to present itself as enlightening.

The Baron Of Arizona (1950) dir. Samuel Fuller

Based on a true story, although with fictionalized elements, about a dude (played by Vincent Price) who becomes a master forger to falsify land grants and claim the entire state of Arizona as his own. Not a great movie, though that’s an interesting story. I bet I could guess what elements were made up for the sake of making a movie out of it, it has this tension of being interesting and unbelievable (although unbelievable by way of rote moviemaking formula), but also the story takes place over an extended period of time and so has some of the structureless feeling of a biopic.

House On Haunted Hill (1959) dir. William Castle

I’m going to confuse this with The Haunting Of Hill House for my entire life, that’s just the way it is. This stars Vincent Price, who’s always great, doing the famous premise where a group of people meet up to spend the night at a haunted house to win money. Vincent Price has a contentious relationship with his wife, who’s openly contemptuous of him and wants his money. There’s a moment where everyone at the house party is given a gun, each in a coffin. There’s a few “twists” all sort of being of the “there was a rational, non-ghost reason for everything” although any of them individually sort of strain the limits of credulity as something that works as a hoax. Vincent Price is basically not the villain, so much as his wife is, although he’s such a ham that loves being creepy that this again strains credibility in that the conclusion of the movie plays against the style with which the previous action has been presented. An enjoyable viewing experience.

My Name Is Julia Ross (1945) dir. Joseph Lewis

This one’s about a woman, looking for work, who falls into a scheme that kidnaps her and puts her up in a mansion, where she’s kept drugged and basically is told to assume the identity of a woman who was killed. I found this one pretty nerve-wracking, as it’s pretty nightmarish, basically about psychological torture. I found this one under Criterion Channel’s Columbia Noir collection, but before these films were considered noir, they were thought of as melodramas, but it’s also sort of a horror film about being gaslighted. There’s a part where they remove a stairwell and try to trick her into falling down? What’s funny is that one of the things that sort of separates this from horror is how quickly it resolves, whereas later work would I think give the audience the satisfaction of seeing the villain be punished in some way, the ending that just goes “then everything worked out alright” ends up making the structure feel more like the whole movie’s reason for being is just to see the protagonist suffer.

God Told Me To (1976) dir. Larry Cohen

Did I write about this already? I watched that a few months ago. Pretty wild basis in seventies grit about people going crazy, committing murders, then goes to a weird/confusing place involving some sort of holy entity in human form, the police procedural aspect butting up against this strangeness which doesn’t feel entirely thought through, and is in fact sort of incoherent, makes for a movie that is, in fact, still pretty good and worth watching although a bit tedious by the end.

Zombi Child (2019) dir. Bertrand Bonello

This I guess just came out in America this year, to the extent that anything came out this year, in theaters, it coming to streaming is basically its release. The zombies in this are of the old-school voodoo sense, taken seriously as a system of belief juxtaposed against French colonialism, as a Haitian teen feels at odds with her circle of friends, flashbacks to Haiti occur. When you watch a bunch of older movies new movies just seem to be not as good. Bonello’s not a bad filmmaker though, he’s able to capture a sort of sensual aspect of particular moments and moods, just not in a way where they then coalesce into a narrative of shifting emotion.

Anatomy Of A Murder (1959) dir. Otto Preminger

This movie is close to three hours long.  It has a Law And Order procedural quality, taking up much of its second half with a courtroom drama, where Jimmy Stewart does a proto-Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer routine. He’s protecting a man accused of murdering the woman who raped his wife. The subject was surely shocking for its time. It becomes pretty clear, extremely quickly that the husband is an abusive piece of shit, but the main thrust of the narrative is still tasked with following the lawyer trying to get him off. Lee Remick, from Experiment In Terror plays the beautiful and doomed wife, who flirts with Jimmy Stewart. Some of these interactions feel weird from a modern perspective, because Stewart’s reaction is like “Yes, you’re a beautiful woman and any red-blooded American male would enjoy looking at you, but it is my duty as a lawyer to paternalistically insist you cover up!” Preminger is sort of known for pushing the envelope, and this one has a lot more talking about sperm and Lee Remick’s vagina than you’d expect. One of the things that’s meant to be a “quirky character detail” is that Jimmy Stewart is into jazz- The score, by Duke Ellington, is great, but there’s also a pretty corny cameo by Duke Ellington where Jimmy Stewart sits in with him, a second pair of hands on the piano. Still, I guess it’s better that he physically appears in the movie than there just being a scene where it implies Duke’s music is played by Jimmy Stewart, as the music is way too good to just be a lawyer’s quirky hobby. George C Scott, from Hardcore, plays the legal expert on the other side. After being pretty long, there is this sort of abrupt, (although well-foreshadowed) downbeat ending, where the jealous and abusive husband flees town to avoid paying his lawyer and to go somewhere quiet he can beat his wife to death, but said ending is played for this “you can’t win them all I guess, shame about the lower classes” quality from Stewart, who is dead broke all movie but seems like he just enjoyed being able to do work for once, even if it’s for a total shitbag. Good movie! Feels thorny and interesting.

Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965) dir. Otto Preminger

This is even better. Great Saul Bass credits sequence too. A psychological thriller where the disappearance of a child gives way to the police not being able to confirm the child is real, and doubting the mother’s sanity, becoming pretty nightmarish, dreamy, and exhilarating by turns. Gets to a place of “huh, I wonder what is going on” and then when that finally resolves there’s a pretty extended sequence of silent escaping/hiding, which is, one of those things that films do really well and is super-satisfying. It plays out amidst this background filled with interesting supporting characters, who all, for the first half of the movie, feel like moving parts in this somewhat inscrutable narrative machine.

The Man With The Golden Arm (1955) dir. Otto Preminger

This one I don’t like. Stars Frank Sinatra, who I find annoying, as a recovering heroin addict who relapses again. While I normally like the sort of scenery-chewing supporting cast that shows up in Preminger things, I really didn’t Sinatra’s nerdy best friend, or his wife with Munchausen’s syndrome. While with the other Preminger movies there’s this feeling of a slow reveal of what the plot is with this one I feel like as soon as you know that Sinatra is out of rehab (which you learn pretty quickly) you can guess the movie will be about how he relapses and then tries to get sober for real.

The Human Factor (1979) dir. Otto Preminger

Preminger’s final movie, based on a Graham Greene novel, featuring Iman making her film debut. Movie is mostly about intelligence agencies seeking out the mole in their mist, with intentions to kill whoever it is once they’re certain. It stars Richard Attenborough, as the source of the leaks. Halfway through the story becomes interspersed with flashbacks about Attenborough and Iman’s romance upon meeting in Africa. Continues the habit of ending on a moment that maybe feels like it should be expanded upon or made more resonant.

Bonjour Tristesse (1958) dir. Otto Preminger

This stars Jean Seberg as a teenager being raised by a single father, David Niven, who’s kind of a cad/ladies man who’s very permissive with his daughter, who seems likely to grow up rich and spoiled and find another rich man to take care of her. Deborah Kerr plays the woman who Niven ends up falling in love for real with, and the conflict is then between this woman taking on a maternal role and a daughter who is resentful of this. Deborah Kerr is in Black Narcissus, a movie I love, and here she comes off as smart, the voice of reason. Seberg destroys her father’s relationship by taking advantage of his sort of innate desire to flirt and be liked by women, driving Kerr to commit suicide, and the whole film is then told in flashback by Jean Seberg a year later, as she flirts with boys but has a great sadness and emotional distance about her, which is both inherited and self-inflicted. I’m partly just writing these plot summaries as my way of remembering what these movies are about, but this one is nice because I get to account for complicated characters who are both pretty eminently understandable. I keep getting hung up on the fact that movies today now have a much dumber idea of what a female character is. Maybe it’s something as basic as the fact that, as people read less, it’s rarer for literary novels to be adapted? As I talk in terms of “less good roles for women nowadays,” which is a cliche, it’s obvious enough that bad roles for men follow, as everyone is only as good or interesting as who they’re playing off of.

It’s also funny to think, in this era of “comic book movies,” that very few artists can make a character come to life with body language and facial expression the way an actor can. “Literary” cartoonists like Dan Clowes or Tomine play into the mask quality drawing creates, generating inscrutability as part of their effect. Many of the biggest names in “noir” comics are removed from the melodrama elements of actor’s performance in favor of an aesthetic based on paperback covers, which makes for something far less lively. Meanwhile, Blutch is an amazing artist who would probably do a great job telling lively character studies in a genre form, but he’s way more preoccupied with these Godard-style interrogations of film’s cultural meaning.

Separate Tables (1958) dir. Delbert Mann

From the same year as Bonjour Tristesse, and also featuring David Niven and Deborah Kerr. Deborah Kerr’s good in this- while she is sort of uptight in a maternal way in Bonjour Tristesse, here she’s sort of crippled by repression her mother imposes on her. It’s a totally different character, but she remains defined by various manifestations of repressed energy; I would say she’s most known for playing a nun in Black Narcissus. She’s again opposite Niven in a sort of romantic context, though Niven’s character is meant to be a neurotic freak and he’s not really convincing in that capacity. I couldn’t really work out what the deal is with Niven’s character, he gets arrested in a theater, seemingly because he takes his dick out to show women? Or that’s how I interpreted what was being discussed, but he’s mostly defended by everyone except this lady you’re supposed to hate for how domineering and judgmental she is so maybe it’s something less bad. I honestly couldn’t figure it out because it seemed like the thing I was guessing they couldn’t talk about. This movie also features Burt Lancaster and Rita Hayworth as a couple that broke up once before and are reuniting now. This movie is pretty dull in a way I didn’t know whether to attribute to it being British or it being based on a play, as it feels extremely both.

Seance On A Wet Afternoon (1964) dir. Bryan Forbes

This one’s British too, and features the quality I recognize from British television, where the stars are not attractive, which always feels surprising. This one’s got a pretty great title, and a great premise. This woman, a professional psychic, convinces her husband to kidnap a child so she can comfort the parents and get publicity. The cinematography’s great. I got pretty nervous watching this, I think I am feeling more sensitive to movies as of late, way more willing to find things upsetting and nerve-wracking than usual. I can partly attribute this to the feeling of taking something in from a different cultural context, that leaves me unsure what to expect, but it’s also true that nowadays I sort of constantly have this feeling of “I don’t know how bad things are going to get” about the world in general, and it makes sense that I would apply that to films.

Only Angels Have Wings (1939) dir. Howard Hawks

Jean Arthur’s amazing in this - saw her the first time in The Devil And Miss Jones and then there’s this whole Criterion Channel featurette video running through what her whole deal is: This vulnerability/innocence crossed with an attempted toughness that really is very charming. Here she plays an entertainer just stopping briefly in town who gets hit on by some pilots, and develops feelings of impossible love for a man (played by Cary Grant) whose insistent toughness and refusal to show fear (despite having a dangerous job, of a pilot, that makes everyone who cares about him fall to pieces with nervousness). It’s this very universal type of entertainment, where there’s all these special effects shots of planes flying and a drama of men being men that’s nonetheless anchored by this love story, carried by the fact that Jean Arthur is very real and complex. She’s also a legit comedic actress, which I think makes her feel richer and more watchable than someone without a sense of humor would be. Rita Hayworth plays Grant’s ex, a woman who couldn’t take his daredevil ways but is now married to another pilot who has to do dangerous flights essentially to make up for an act of cowardice that got someone else killed. She’s got her own charisma obviously (and Cary Grant’s equally solid, in this sort of old-Hollywood glamor way) but Jean Arthur feels very alive in a way that carries the movie.

The Talk Of The Town (1942) dir. George Stevens

This one also stars Jean Arthur opposite Cary Grant, but it’s less interesting, partly because of a domestic setting and some stale-seeming comedy. Cary Grant plays Lionel Dilg, (great name!) who breaks out of prison and hides out in Jean Arthur’s attic, with a hobbled ankle, while a preeminent legal scholar moves in. There’s a love triangle between the three of them, and a friendship between the escapee and the scholar. Grant’s been unfairly framed for arson for political reasons by his boss for pointing out the factory where he works is a death trap. The people of the town are easily turned against this sort of leftist agitator  by a last and biased judge. Insanely enough, there’s a movie called “The Whole Town’s Talking” also starring Jean Arthur but it has no relation to this one.

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936) dir. Stephen Roberts

Upon realizing that many of these Jean Arthur movies were leaving the Criterion Channel at the end of the month, I started taking more in. This is a murder mystery, with screwball comedy accents, and again I’d say it’s really good, although the “comedy” premise wherein a woman sort of plows through the life of a man with no real respect for personal boundaries is the sort of thing that works in a movie even though it seems totally nightmarish when looked at from a certain angle. She writes mysteries, he’s a doctor, people are getting murdered. He is played by William Powell, from The Thin Man movies, which maybe these resemble. I guess the bickering couple that solves mysteries is a trope but it’s one that I don’t think has had any currency in popular culture since Moonlighting, which was in my lifetime but before I would have had any awareness of it. (I would probably enjoy it up until the point where I got bored of the formula.) I thought this was great and would make a good double feature with L’Assassin Habite au 21.

History Is Made At Night, 1937, dir. Frank Borzage

This has Jean Arthur in it too, but the reason I became aware of it was Matt Zoller Seitz tweeting about it. Partly this is because the description on the Criterion site is so bare-bones it barely seems like anything, but it turns out this is because the plot is completely insane and has a ton of twists and to talk about them very quickly veers into spoiler territory. It is, in brief, a love story. The first totally insane in it is the handsome male lead does the “drawing a ventriloquist puppet on his hand” thing and the woman’s totally on board. An element that doesn’t spoil the plot, but does seem somewhat incongruent with the tone, is there’s a French chef character for a comic relief. It’s really good. I’m pointing out the lightest element but the story’s villain is believably sociopathic.

Secrets (1933) dir Frank Borzage

Not nearly as cool or good. While History Is Made At Night feels like a cohesive story that’s just pretty crazy, this one feels divided into acts that have nothing in common with each other. First act is romance, between a rich man’s daughter and his banker. They run away together. I’m basically unsure of when this movie takes place timewise, the rich lady is wearing massive layered gowns I know would’ve been out of fashion by 1933. The second act is a western where they make a home together and have to fight off bandits! But the action is shot in a a pretty disinterested manner. Third act, I’m pretty on edge and bored, but the banker is now the governor of California and is having an affair with another woman, and they’re at a party together, and then the ending feels epilogue style as they’re both old as hell and they have fully-grown children and they’re talking about how they’re taking their leave of the kids to discuss their secrets. Female lead is Mary Pickford in her final film role. I guess this is a remake of a silent film, which was itself based on a play. Yeah this movie sucks basically.

Bitter Moon (1992) dir. Roman Polanski

Sure, I’ll watch a sex criminal’s erotic thriller that’s way too long. Hugh Grant is a married guy on a boat who has a French dude talk about all the sex he and his wife have because he knows Hugh Grant wants to fuck his hot wife. Said wife is played by Emmanuelle Seigner, Roman Polanski’s actual wife since 1989. This is a bad movie by pretty much any metric. It kinda feels like the social function of erotic thrillers is not to be a more socially-acceptable form of pornography, but rather to be pervy enough to remind the audience why you shouldn’t talk about sex publicly and have that be your whole thing. The French, of course, misunderstand this.

The Burglar (1957) dir. Paul Wendkos

Another noir, written by David Goodis. This one is a little formulaic, in terms of what you think of crime movies as being “about.” A burglar, who learned the trade from his adopted father, works with that man’s daughter to commit heists. His gang doesn’t like her. Once the two of them are separated, a corrupt cop seeking to steal a burgled necklace for himself tries to pursue a relationship with her as a means to an end, while a woman allied with him works on the burglar. A drive to New Jersey gets stopped by cops, violence quickly escalates to make the situation more dire. Members of the gang die. Not a bad movie but by no means essential.

My Brother’s Wedding (1983) dir. Charles Burnett

Criterion Channel removed the paywall for a bunch of Black-made independent films, this is one of them, Burnett’s follow-up to Killer Of Sheep. Seemingly starring non-professional actors, it’s about the conflict a guy feels as his brother is planning to get married to a rich woman he resents, and the loyalty he feels to a guy who just got out of prison who everybody hates. The main character is a good dude who wants to help out this pretty dangerous friend the best he can. The film captures his pride and resentment.

Dial M For Murder (1954) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

A few iconic-seeming shots of Grace Kelly in the role of a Hitchcock blonde, i.e. her standing at a phone while someone looms behind her about to choke her, and later standing traumatized. Suffers a bit from clearly being based on a play, with a ton of dialogue, particularly in the second act. The first act is able to provide this very particular type of satisfaction, where someone outlines a “perfect crime” in dialogue and then we see it play out and it falls apart and happens completely differently. It’s funny the criminal gives themselves away due to mistaking one key for another, because this sort of structure really does feel like a key fitting into a lock, things perfectly designed for one another, parceled out at the right time.

[brightly-painted-canvas]

for the series ‘fic I think about all the time but I’ll never be able write’, I’m honoured to present you:

Band of Brothers’s High School Football (and I mean soccer!) Team AU

featuring:

- the team’s name is Currahee Easy of Toccoa High School (I don’t make the rules... I mean yes I do, but you know...) and they’re basically shit at playing football/soccer - it’s not that they don’t have good individual players or don’t train hard enough, it’s that their coach, PE teacher Sobel, doesn’t know shit about tactics and theory and he’s just too much of a dick to admit it - so the team trains hard everyday under every weather condition, but they still suck in championship games - (it’s by then a well known thing in Toccoa High School) - except this year is senior year for a big chunk of the team and most of them really really want to win at least one game before parting ways and going to college - so some of them basically mutiny against Sobel and go beg Principal Sink for a new coach - (he’s easily convinced after he sees the disgraceful row of defeats the team managed to string in the past three years) (it’s disgusting) - he calls in his office the other PE teacher, Richard Winters (who’s in fact already the coach of the baseball team) and gives Winters the responsibility of coaching the football team as well - thing is: right until that moment Dick Winters knows nothing about football, but he’s not a bitch about it so he buys a lot of books and watches a lot of youtube videos and drags his best-friend-and-maybe-also-more Lewis Nixon (history teacher at Toccoa) to a bunch of games to study - he’s a good student because when he meets the team for the first time and they try some of the tactics out, they seem to work - (he goes with basic 4-4-2 formation but his full backs are fast and both his side midfielders can shift to the attack on the occasion) - so the championship starts and the boys are for once both physically and tactically ready (mentally not so much, but hey can you blame a rowdy team of 20 teenagers?)

- so the team is composed like this: - D. Hoobler as the keeper (2nd keeper: D. Webster, although everyone is secretly glad he never plays because last time he did he was reading books during the game when the ball was on the other side of the field... at least on the bench he can read as much as he wants and pretend to be too precious and literate to play sports) - “Buck” Compton and “Bull” Randleman as center backs (reserves: “Tab” Talbert and “Pat” Christenson) - “Babe” Heffron and Frank Perconte as full backs (reserves: “Popeye” Wynn and A. Blithe) - center midfielders: Joe Liebgott and Johnny Martin (reserve: D. Malarkey) - side midfielders: “Shifty” Powers and “Skip” Muck (reserve: A. Penkala) - forwards: Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye (reserves: “Chuck” Grant and P. O’Keefe) - coach: R. Winters; coach’s alcoholic husband: L. Nixon; 2nd coach: C. Lipton; manager: H. Welsh; assistant and medic: “Doc” Roe; referee: R. Speirs - (everyone is scared of the local referee as there are numerous rumors circulating about him, like the one that says he once stabbed a protesting player in the eye with the red card) - Toccoa also has a student radio broadcast and the designated sportcaster is George Luz, so he also follows the team in away games (and having him around helps with the team’s morale) - the first match is a draw, which is neither a good or a bad thing, but Winters is still kinda proud of the guys and buys ice cream for all of them and says inspirational things like “the best is yet to come” - the second match is a whole struggle against the defending champions of the previous year, which makes the opposite team’s players a bit too arrogant and which causes yellow cards to fly around - to the surprise of absolutely nobody Liebgott is the first to get a red card and gets sent out. To the surprise of everybody except his teammates, he’s double booked because he picks a fight not with the opposite team but with his own (specifically: Guarnere asking for more forward passes and Webster, still on the bench, for seemingly no reason at all). Luz announces that it’s probably the first time in the history of football that this happens (yay for a new embarrassing record for Currahee Easy!) - Easy loses in the last minutes after a struggle to maintain the 0 - 0 and Lipton has to intervene before the whole team riots against the referee (not Speirs this time) who also gives a penalty to the opposite team in recovery time. It ends 2 - 0 for the defenders and in the brawl that follows the three final whistles Heffron loses a shoe, Toye gets a bloody nose and Liebgott sneaks out from the locker room just to throw a few punches - they win the third match. The opposite team never shows up at Toccoa High School so it’s a forfeit win - (rumors say the opponents didn’t want to attend not because they were scared of Easy, but because they were scared of Speirs, the designated referee for the game) - after the sixth match they start to win for their own merits and everyone is ecstatic. The whole school gets involved (all thanks to Luz’s enthusiastic commentaries and sport-related news) and there’s suddenly an high attendance of audience at their games - some of them even gets fans, like some guy starting to admire Guarnere’s technique and some girl suddenly making banners for Christenson or even Webster (though that must be less for athletic merits and more for aesthetic reasons, much to all the other player’s displeasure)(and Liebgott’s absolute rage, though no one gets exactly why)(c’mon guys...) - they manage to end the championship at an average position in the chart and with enough points to access a row of head to head games - the last match of the season is one of those direct clashes and becomes very important not only because it’s the last match ever for the senior students, but also because winning would mean getting an access to summer play-off - everyone is super nervous - coach Winters makes another one of his nice motivational speeches which leaves almost everyone near-tears (even the tough ones)(and especially Lew, who still gets free access to the locker room despite not being directly involved with the team) - things turn bad real soon real fast because during the first half within minutes both Guarnere and Toye get a leg injury and need to be substituted by Grant and, to the whole team’s horror and desperation, sweet innocent O’Keefe - Doc Roe gets helped by Lip and Welsh to get Bill and Joe out of the pitch and most of all to placate their rage and frustration (my poor boys...) - despite the injuries and early substitutions, Shifty manages to score an outside the box stunning volley for the 1 - 0 that makes everyone in the audience literally freaks out - the opponents equalize right at the end of first half with a goal following a contested free kick right outside Easy’s penalty area - the second half ends on a draw despite the team’s best efforts in maintaining their shape and positions as well as their nerves (and everyone is extremely proud of them, but most of all surprised by Liebgott)(considering he’s not even being supervised by Martin, who had been substituted by Malark at some point) - after the first extra time Dick is already thinking about the penalties: to the sudden shock of everyone present at the game (and the delight of his hardcore fangirls), Hoob gets substituted with Webster - (all of Easy, as one man, think they’re doomed) - the penalties are a matter of even more nerves and sweat and tears, but the five kickers get chosen (Grant, Buck, Skip, Heffron and Shifty) and after that, everything is in their preferred foot (and in Web’s hands) - Web saves the first penalty and the whole school gasps in disbelief - (while Dick and Lip share a knowing smile on the bench) - Grant scores, Buck scores, Skip’s shot unfortunately gets saved and they’re back to equality - no one speaks (Luz included!), no one even blinks - Babe manages to score a stunning lob penalty that has the whole field freaking out again - (Bill from the bench points at him and screams: ‘That’s my boy!’ jumping on his uninjured leg) - Shifty scores with cynical precision (and Winters almost sobs out loud) - as Webster takes his position between the posts, silence falls again all around the pitch and tension is so thick it feels like it could be cut with a knife - right before the opponents fifth kicker positions the ball on the penalty spot, everyone takes a deep breath and holds it for seemingly endless minutes - Webster saves - everyone screams - chaos is everywhere - Lieb kisses Web on the mouth - someone cries - (probably Web’s fangirls) - (and also mama!Lip since he’s so proud of his boys) - after that everything is a blur of celebrations and tears and hugs and also other less celebrated kisses (but Babe gets one from Doc and Dick gets several ones from Lew and, to be fair, no one is really that surprised) - Luz loses his voice at some point and completely forgets being on air on the school’s radio as he runs down to the field to celebrate with the team (which results in long minutes of radio silence he’d be scolded for the next day)(and, for what is worth, he does not give a single fuck) - Easy chases coach Winters across the field and lift him in the air to celebrate, then they do the same for Lip and Welsh and (surprisingly?) Nixon - (Doc Roe refuses and hides behind Babe and Bill and everyone loves him too much to force him anyway) - more chaos ensues and rumors say the celebrations went on for weeks - (also some rumors say referee Speirs took part to the celebrations as 2nd coach Lipton’s date, but no one present ever confirmed or denied that) ...and that’s basically it. Sorry for any mistake: I typed this all in one go and my football terminology is strictly Italian-based (just as much as my football enthusiasm lol) so I may have got something wrong. Thanks a bunch to my sister @gaiayukari85 for having helped with the plot (as often happens when we create silly stories)

[fullspectrum-cbd-oil]

Violent Protests and Fires Erupt in Minneapolis as Protesters Demand Justice for George Floyd

Violent protests are escalating in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the wake of the death of George Floyd.

Photos and footage of the events that took place on Wednesday night are circulating on social media. The metropolitan city has been ravaged for the last roughly 48 hours.

Frustrated protesters can be seen demonstrating with signs, vandalizing buildings, looting stores, and torching businesses, demanding Hennepin County Attorney Mike Freeman to hold the officers accountable for Floyd’s untimely death in police custody.

This is the protest that took place yesterday in Minneapolis over the murder of George Floyd. The last photo shows his girlfriend, Shawanda Hill, crying by the location he was killed at. Really take that in. See the aftermath of racism and police brutality. #BlackLivesMatter pic.twitter.com/NEIEnVtDbn

— 🦇 (@HalloweenHailey) May 27, 2020

Lots of violent images being shared, this is the protest before cops fired gas. They hired the first shot. Not us. But they dont hear us when we march so we fight back. #GeorgeFloyd #BlackLivesMatter #Minneapolis pic.twitter.com/jCwsu3D6QY

— Triple H (@HenryHuber) May 27, 2020

According to multiple reports, an AutoZone location was set on fire Wednesday night and a Target store has been looted.

Major Protests / Riots in Minneapolis tonight over the death of #GeorgeFloyd and Police brutality. This is an Auto Zone store on fire: pic.twitter.com/XP1WDppxVA

— Joyce Karam (@Joyce_Karam) May 28, 2020

Looters rampaged through a Target store in Minneapolis, carrying out shopping carts full of products, on the second day of protests over the death of an unarmed black man https://t.co/uXmXy8tA58 pic.twitter.com/LD7hM6ODzZ

— Reuters (@Reuters) May 28, 2020

In Minneapolis, where George Floyd was killed Monday, a community reels from a second night of protests, marked by looting and buildings on fire as protesters clashed with police. @OmarJimenez reports https://t.co/bBNRgGwgJm pic.twitter.com/Al46RFtu3W

— New Day (@NewDay) May 28, 2020

Floyd’s death has yet again shined a light on racial tension in the United States. Protests have escalated to the point where Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey has taken precautionary measures, requesting the presence of the National Guard.

“Rare Footage” . Protest #Video From #Minneapolis against the killing of #GeorgeFloyd . #MinneapolisPoliceMurderdHim #BlackLivesMatter #GeorgeLloyd#video #viral pic.twitter.com/t3hFN4hZ0Y

— The Voice Of Liberty (@VOLFdotTV) May 27, 2020

As protests intensify, so do the calls for charges to be brought against the four officers involved.

Huge protests have broken out in the streets of Minneapolis over the killing of #GeorgeFloyd by Minneapolis police pic.twitter.com/kXSIt4vLcy

— philip lewis (@Phil_Lewis_) May 27, 2020

On Wednesday, Frey released another statement calling for the arrest now-terminated officer Derek Chauvin while pressing Freeman to file criminal charges. Chauvin is the officer seen with his knee pinned into Floyd’s neck during the arrest, as previously reported on IJR.

“I’ve wrestled with, more than anything else over the last 36 hours, one fundamental question: Why is the man who killed George Floyd not in jail?” Frey said. “If you had done it, or I had done it, we would be behind bars right now. And I cannot come up with a good answer to that.”

Freeman’s office has released a statement about the status of the investigation as he responded to the public outcry for charges to be brought against the officers involved.

“We are working with the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) and the Hennepin County Medical Examiner to expeditiously gather and review all of the evidence in the tragic death of Mr. George Floyd,” Freeman’s office said in a statement.

Freeman’s office concluded, “The videotaped death of Mr. Floyd, which has outraged us and people across the country, deserves the best we can give and that is what this office will do.”

from IJR https://ift.tt/2yGiscl via IFTTT

[slackrobats]

The History of Slacklining

A Brief Look At How We Got Here

The history of slacklining can be a confusing topic because people often confuse it with the tightrope modality. For many centuries there has been rope walking, tightrope walking, and wire walking. When you hear someone mention tightrope, many of you may think of the circus, and it was indeed performed in the circus. However, the art of slacklining–balancing on a flat webbing, originated in the climbers world.

Larry Zulim, Yosemite Valley in the mid-1970’s. Photo by George Meyers

As early as the 1960’s California climbers in the Yosemite Valley began balancing on chains in parking lots, on their climbing rope, even on steel cables. This rustic form of line walking is where it all began for the slackline community. The birth of current day slacklining is mostly attributed to Adam Grosowsky. This young climber had a passion for balance that spread like wildfire.

Adam Grosowsky and Jeff Ellington in Yosemite in the early 1980s

It was in the early 1980’s, when Adam Grosowsky and Jeff Ellington rigged a piece of tubular webbing, that slacklining was born. In the summer of 1983 Grosowsky and Ellington set up a 55′ long high wire at Yosemite’s Lost Arrow Spire. Neither of them successfully walked the line on this attempt, however their efforts inspired many.

The Slackline Stoke Spreads…

They in turn inspired Scott Balcom and Chris Carpenter to rig and walk The Arches in the autumn of 1983. It’s believed to be the first recorded highline walk on nylon webbing. (The Arches is a line rigged in Pasadena, California under the California SR 134 Freeway bridge.) On July 13, 1985 Balcom became the first to walk across Lost Arrow Spire, again on webbing, as opposed to wire.

Through the 1990’s and early 2000’s slacklining spread across the world. Finding it’s way through Europe, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Scandinavia, the U.S. and many other places. Between 2007 and 2015 many companies such as Gibbon, YogaSlackers, and Slackline Industries began creating and marketing slackline kits to the public. This helped make slacklining affordable and accessible for many people. Since 2015, even more slackline companies have emerged, continuing to spread the stoke.

Current Yogaslackers Complete E-line kit

Slacklining Evolves Into A Multi-Faceted Sport

Over the years, many types of webbing have been created and each one offers its own unique walk. The webbings are made from different materials, with different weave patterns and stretch capabilities. The variety of accesible webbings and the expanding ability to create strong-tensioned long lines, has facilitated the steady growth of the global slacklining community.

From this growth, many various styles of slackline practice have evolved. Styles ranging from tricklining,–which utilizes a 2” wide webbing, to slackyoga–which involves doing static yoga poses using a 1” wide webbing. Other styles include waterlining, longlining, acrolining, and of course highlining which has only continued to grow in popularity.

@stefariart brother Armando in mid flip on a trickline at sunset

Over the past 15 years, many athletes such as Dean Potter, Andy Lewis, Alexander Schulz, Nathan Paulin, Danny Menšík, Pablo Signoret, and Lucas Milliard have all helped to stoke the slackline fire around the world. So many other amazing people out there have also helped this sport evolve, much respect to all of you. It’s all of your efforts that have helped shape the sport into what it is today.

The Future of Slacklining

New records are being set faster than ever before. Highlines over a mile long (5452′) have already been walked and tricklining competitions are continuously growing in skill and diversity. It’s hard to keep up with all the upcoming talent when kids as young as 10 and 11 are walking longlines 100′ and longer. Welcome to the world of slacklining where history is made everyday.

What’s to come in slacklining’s future? That’s hard to say. Highlining is continuing to explode. Tricklining, waterlining, slackyoga and longlining are all blossoming into their own specialties. I think it’s a little to early to say what the limits of growth are for this sport. There are people doing handstands on highlines, people walking blind folded, doing back flips, fire dancing on firelines, and doing full yoga flows on slacklines.

@ucancallmeflower fireline walking

The possibilities are as endless as is the imagination. I just know I’m excited to see where we take this activity over the next 5 years…what limits are pushed, what records are broken, and how many activities we continue to blend with the art of slacklining.

Make Slackline History

Have you been wanting to delve into the world of slacklining, but aren’t sure where to begin? Well, you’re in luck because we have put together a comprehensive beginners guide just for you! Learn about webbing, set up, slackining styles, and educational resources available to you as a beginner. The guide is 100% free, because we want this sport to be accessible to everyone. Read more about the Slackrobats eGuide, or download it instantly here.

  The History of Slacklining The History of Slacklining A Brief Look At How We Got Here The history of slacklining can be a confusing topic because people often confuse it with the tightrope modality.