#matt lieberman

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

The Christmas Chronicles (2018, Clay Kaytis)

31/12/2023

The Christmas Chronicles is a 2018 film directed by Clay Kaytis, starring Kurt Russell as Santa Claus.

The project was announced in December 2017, when Kurt Russell, Judah Lewis and Darby Camp were chosen as the protagonists of the Netflix film.

Filming of the film began in January 2018 in Toronto and then continued in Chicago.

The Hollywood Reporter includes the film among the thirty-six best Christmas films of all time.

The sequel, also produced and distributed by Netflix, was released in 2020 and sees the return of Kurt Russell, Goldie Hawn, Darby Camp, Kimberly Williams-Paisley and Judah Lewis to the cast, while the new faces are Julian Dennison and Jahzir Bruno; Chris Columbus is directing, and is also co-writing the screenplay with Matt Lieberman.

[criticandocriticas]

Free Guy (2021)

Diretor: Shawn Levy

Roteiro: Matt Lieberman e Zak Penn

Quando se fala de filmes de video games eu geralmente torço o nariz, porque parece que Hollywood não joga nada e faz apenas para ganhar dinheiro com coitados que os jogam. Mas eu assisto mesmo assim, porque a graça de ver filmes toscos é que mesmo ruins, a gente se diverte para caramba com as coisas ridículas. Eu comecei a ver Free Guy exatamente por isso, para ter a sensação de que eu poderia estar vendo um filme ruim, que era tão ruim que era bom. Eu estava errada.

Free Guy começa como um filme engraçado, com todos aqueles exageros e maluquices aleatórias que a gente ama quando está jogando, até bugs eles mostram para deixar a imersão perfeita. É basicamente uma história sobre um "personagem não jogável" chamado Guy (que não por conhecidência significa "cara" em inglês) que mora numa cidade em um jogo chamado "Free City". Esse jogo é basicamente um "GTA V" com uma leve mistura com "Free Fire" em que o jogador entra online, tem suas missões, mas tem toda liberdade para causar o caos que a gente tanto ama. Eu mesma só entro online no "GTA V" para causar aquele caos básico e matar todo mundo, inclusive os NPCs, e sinceramente, eu nem sei para que servem as missões se eu tô alí para causar anarquia, discórdia, correr da polícia e "brincar" com as prostitutas.

Em algum momento na sua vida de acordar, ir ao banco trabalhar, conversar com seu melhor amigo e ser refém nos assaltos à banco de todos os dias, Guy vê uma jogadora ativa e sente que ela é o amor da sua vida. A partir daí ele rouba um óculos de um jogador, que é o que diferencia os ativos dos NPCs, e então enxerga seu mundo da forma que os jogadores enxergam e vai procurar a sua nova amada, porque já que ele tem um óculos, ela vai prestar atenção e falar com ele. Mais para frente, descobrimos que essa jogadora é uma das programadoras do código e que nesse código tem uma inteligência artificial e que o Guy acordou e aprendeu assim como alguns outros personagens.

Apesar do roteiro parecer super simples, Free Guy tenta debater um fenômeno que acontece de tempos em tempos no capitalismo do mundo todo e que está acontecendo nos Estados Unidos agora: O despertar da exploração do trabalhador. Dentro do jogo, nós temos uma pessoa que está despertando do sono profundo de fazer o que foi programado à fazer todos os dias sem questionar. No mundo real, acontece a mesma coisa, os programadores da empresa são pressionados pelo chefe mais do que deveriam, o código do jogo é roubado pela corporação bilionária e quem ganha os créditos e o dinheiro é exatamente o chefe. Nos últimos tempos, esse debate sobre exploração do trabalhador está cada vez mais forte e ele é importante para que não só saibamos nossos direitos, mas também para buscarmos conquistar novos e só conseguimos isso juntos, como comunidade.

Guy representa o trabalhador cansado de fazer o que foi programado, que surta quando descobre como o sistema funciona e que quebra quando a realidade bate. Millie, a programadora que quer processar o dono da empresa que roubou seu trabalho, se transforma na Garota Molotov no game, que representa com seu nome uma revolução, uma resistência sobre esse sistema. "Free Guy" não é só um filme que critica todo esse sistema capitalista que escraviza os trabalhadores, ele é um convite para que as pessoas levantem, se organizem e lutem. Quem sabe uma greve geral em que mostramos aos que estão no topo que eles não vivem sem a gente?

Esse filme é um pedido de socorro a tudo de ruim que o sistema capitalista representa. É um Matrix atual, com uma linguagem atual e não tão complexa (e sem a metáfora sobre a vida de pessoas trans). "Free Guy" é um grito de resistência e implora para que você ouça e se junte pela mudança. E na minha visão, ele mostra bem o que a transformação do "eu" em "nós" pode fazer a diferença, afinal, seres humanos são seres sociáveis, Nós nascemos para viver em comunidade e ultimamente as pessoas estão cada vez mais individualistas. Quem você quer ser nesse mundo? Um NPC com a vida programada ou um jogador ativo que escreve sua própria história?

[molotovgrifter]

give me micro or give me death!

+ images that shook me to my core

[amhrosina]

Frank Castle x Reader Instagram AU

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

(a/n: this is something new that i’m trying and it won’t be replacing my fics at all i just wanted to try something new!!! if it flops then oh well lol i didn’t mean for this to be so dog-centric but there’s a LOT of pictures of jon with his dogs, please enjoy and if you have requests for more instagram au’s please send them!!!)

Liked by frankcastle, karen_page, nelson.foggy, and 742 others

yourusername love my family <3 (photo taken by yours truly!)

View all 49 comments

frankcastle We love you more sweetheart.

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

nelson.foggy i love love!

matthewmurdock You literally gagged and said 'gross' when this picture first showed up on your phone.

yourusername foggy!!

nelson.foggy i didn't realize i was best friends with a snitch, matt.

karen_page this is such a great photo of them! how did you get him to sit so still?

yourusername frank or max? neither of them likes to cooperate.

billsrusso fucker’s old

yourusername i hope you’re talking about frank and not my darling child

billsrusso of course dear

frankcastle Fuck y’all🖕🏼

Liked by yourusername, david.micro, curtisss, karen_page, and 58 others

frankcastle This dog’s always in my face about somethin’

View all 11 comments

yourusername he’s asking for more treats (which you should give him because he’s the goodest boy)

frankcastle You already gave him two today!

yourusername three, but who’s counting???

david.micro he’s trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty

curtisss big love!

Liked by frankcastle, imnotdaredevil, nelson.foggy, and 698 others

yourusername save a horse ride a cowboy ammiright???

View all 36 comments

frankcastle I can’t believe you used THAT caption🤦🏻‍♂️

yourusername i knew you’d love it😇

matthewmurdock right!

matthewmurdock oh shit, wrong account

imnotdaredevil right!

yourusername NOT THE FINSTA MATT💀

frankcastle What the fuck is a finsta?

Liked by yourusername, billsrusso, matthewmurdock, and 68 others

frankcastle putting in work with my favorite alter boy @ matthewmurdock

View all 17 comments

yourusername shit, baby!😮‍💨

frankcastle 😏

matthewmurdock i can’t tell if this is an insult or not

frankcastle it is

yourusername it’s not

nelson.foggy clearly my invitation was lost in the mail

billsrusso hell yeah brother!

frankcastle Come by when you want to get some real work done, brother💪🏼

- - -

yourusername added to their story

- - -

frankcastle added to their story

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

Tag List (I did make a section in my tag list request form for Instagram AUs if you want to update your form!!):

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @callsign-mama @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @dnxgma @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @ginnysculture @ryebreadsworld @laaundromat @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @lilyevans1 @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs

[leahkenobi]

between the crosshairs

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 2k

summary: you did everything possible to forget the day that the devil of hell’s kitchen and frank castle had saved you. somehow, even your own repression of memories wasn’t enough to keep you safe from enemy arms.

warnings: allusions to sa, guns, kidnapping, reader witnesses a murder, mentions of blood, anxiety, mostly just cannon typical stuff, frank calls reader baby but relationship is undefined

a/n: alright. i’m not gonna act like i’m great at this whole keeping up with a blog thing, it can be quite a struggle for me. but i just got POUNDED with ideas for mr. frank castle thanks to @oliviajdjarin telling me to watch daredevil. so here this is. this is set during the daredevil s2 finale!

a/n 2: to preface this fic if you are reading this, i’m intending to turn this into a bit of a universe if that makes sense. like multiple fics within the same setting and relationship situation. idk. no promises, but that’s the intention. so i suppose this is the first part. if you would like to join the frank tag list lmk and i would be happy to add ya!

the walk home from josie’s was brisk and lonely. the snow was just beginning to flutter down and the wind was whipping it in your face. it was a safe journey you had trekked time and time again.

you stepped over broken glass and other littered items on the side walk and as muscle memory took over, your mind drifted.

he couldn’t be dead, truly, could he? if he wasn’t, where was he? was he safe now?

since the day frank had saved you from the hands of a kitchen irish member, he had been the only thing on your mind. granted, he had help from the devil of hell’s kitchen, but frank was who you always went back to. the way he had soothed you, the way he had taken care of those men who had tried to hurt you, who had tried to take something from you-

you snapped from the memories at the sound of glass crunching behind you. it wasn’t abnormal for others to be walking this street at the late hour, it had happened plenty of times. you moved in unison for a while until the steps behind you increased in speed.

you kept moving, increasing your pace as well, assuming that it was just someone in a hurry. surely they weren’t following you, right?

as the mysterious person on your tail increased their speed even more to match your own, you stuck your hand into your bag, fishing through it for the little pink pepper spray you bought before you had moved to the city.

you risked a peek over your shoulder to see a man with a black ski mask covering his face, and the only thought that came to mind was fuck, you could really use frank right now.

you stopped on the side walk, knowing that running was pointless. you would never outrun this man in heels, and if you could find that damn pepper spray and hit him with it, you could have a chance.

you pulled it out, turning to spray him just as he pulled out his gun, pointing it right at your chest.

your panic rose instantly. even during your altercation with the kitchen irish, a gun was never pointed at you. a whimper nearly left your throat as the man spoke to you.

“drop that fucking pepper spray, don’t say a word, and don’t fight. come easily and quietly, and we won’t have a problem,” the man said to you.

you didn’t release the pepper spray. you tried to push it down, tried to get it to work but the damn thing was jammed-

“i said drop it. drop it now, come with me. now,” the man said with force. every part of your body screamed at you to run, to fight, to do anything to keep this man at bay.

but he took a step closer, bringing the gun right to your chest, right over your heart.

“now,” he repeated. and the pink pepper spray clattered to the ground.

————————————

you were taken to a van filled with others just like you, others that had bound hands and terror written on their faces.

on the trip to wherever these kidnappers, or human traffickers, or murderers (hell you didn’t know) were taking you, an older man tried to stand up for himself, for all of you there. only to be shot through the head.

the fear you felt in that moment was inexplicable. your whole body was burning, your ears unhearing, your eyes watering and your mind running circles. this wasn’t real, this wasn’t real, it wasn’t real-

but it was. it was real and you were here in a van filled with screaming people and the smell of copper was filling the air and the blood was pooling around you.

and then you were being thrown out of the van, onto the cold concrete, knees scraping against it. only to be hauled up again and chased into a building, gun held to your lower back.

all sense of reality was pulled from under you. all you could think was survive survive survive. so you didn’t scream. you weren’t a nuisance. as they threw you into a room, you didn’t cry, you didn’t so much as flinch.

because the less you reacted, the less likely they were to kill you. when the kind looking blonde woman and the beat up man were being targeted by your captors, while they attempted to cut the man’s foot off, you sat stoically. completely unflinching, unmoving as the man screamed and the woman begged and the screams of others filled the room-

and then he was bursting through the window. the devil of the kitchen was here again, to save you all, to get you out. as he took out the men with guns, the other captives ran. as you remained on the ground, hardly thinking anything of the scene, the blonde woman grabbed your bound hands with her own. she shouted at you.

“get up, cmon get up,” she said frantically. her voice pulled you from your stupor, igniting you instinct to survive. she would lead you out, you would survive.

and you did. you made it out. you watched as the blonde woman went to her friend or boyfriend or brother, whoever he was.

you stood there in the middle of the street, unsure of what to do now. you were out, but your mind couldn’t move quick enough. you needed to go- get somewhere safe, but where? and how? where even were you?

your breathing rate must have increased because the nice man with the blonde woman approached you.

“hey, are you alright miss?” he asked.

you breaths kept coming out fast and labored.

“that’s okay, you don’t have to answer. my name is foggy, and that woman over there is karen,” he spoke softly, “can i cut these off of you?”

you nodded firmly, you needed out, needed free, needed to be away from here.

your hands were free, and slowly your breathe came back to you. you had needed the added freedom to move as you wished, and not feel like a captive, apparently.

“do you have a family?” karen asked, her voice kind and gentle.

you shook your head, “no, i-i not here.”

“that’s okay,” she said smiling faintly, “what about a boyfriend, or husband. maybe any friends?”

you shook your head. you had one friend, one who was unreliable, but somehow always there when you needed him. he had always been there, but he was gone now.

“alright, we can take you home,” she said, looking to foggy for help and confirmation. but his gaze was fixed elsewhere, focused in on the roof where some sort of fight was breaking out.

shots were heard by all of the people who were flooded in the street. loud, piercing gun shots. panic swelled in your chest once more, not sure of where the shooter was aiming.

but the shooter would never aim at you. no, that was his girl down there, his girl stood in between that lawyer and the blonde who he’d met through him.

that was his girl he saw in his crosshairs, shaking in the street, wrists bloody and red.

“y/n?” he muttered to himself quietly on the roof.

he wanted to run to you. right now, he wanted to jump from these buildings, climb down, get to you. you were bleeding and he needed to get to you, to keep you safe, protect you-

but he couldn’t. because he was dead. he was dead and he couldn’t just run into the bustling street filled with cops and strangers who had all known him as the punisher.

he couldn’t do anything as you were coaxed into a car with the lawyer and karen. he couldn’t get down there to stop the car, to get to you.

but he could meet them at the location. he could find you again. they would probably bring you home or to their office, maybe even karen’s apartment. he would find you, search all over this goddamn city to get to you.

————————————

karen spoke with you softly in the car, asking about where you lived and where you worked. you could hardly focus on what she saying to you, confused about why she needed to know what you did for a living. you couldn’t understand that she probably was trying to figure out who to call to check in on you- even if it was just a coworker, you needed someone right now.

eventually, you reached your home. foggy and karen helped you inside your apartment, carefully walking you up all the stairs to the quaint studio style living space.

as soon as you reached your door, you pulled out your spare key from under the welcome mat and began to turn it in the lock.

“um.. thank you for helping me and bringing me home. that was… that was very kind,” you said to the two of them.

foggy gave you a nod. “it was no problem, honestly. i’m just glad we’re both okay,” karen said. you couldn’t understand how you had both been in the same situation and you could hardly function while she was here, bringing you home. how you had both seen that man get shot, how you had both been in that room-

she cleared her throat. “here, why don’t you give me your phone so i can give you my number. that way if you need anyone, you have me to text or call,” karen said.

“okay,” you nodded softly and gave her your phone, cracked from having been in your pocket.

“try to get some rest,” karen said after entering her number and turning to leave.

“i’ll try,” you responded politely, knowing just how unlikely that was. these past few days had been too much. with frank, with work, with this now too, you couldn’t take anymore.

“g’night,” foggy shouted as he climbed down the stairs with karen.

you didn’t even have the energy to respond.

you pushed open the door to your apartment, ready to collapse on the ground instead of attempting to get to your bed. it was all too much, you just needed to lay down for a while.

as you closed the door behind you, your back turned to the room, you heard a voice you never thought you would hear again.

“y/n,” frank said.

you whipped your head. and there he was, standing in the middle of the room waiting for you. expecting you.

“frank?” you questioned, knowing the answer, knowing he was there, right there.

“frank,” you said again, moving in closer, a slight whine in your tone.

“frank,” you said once more as he crashed into you, holding you together as you sobbed into him, as all of the pieces you were holding together while those nice people brought you here fell apart.

“oh y/n,” he said, pulling you impossibly closer, his jacket brushing against your tee.

“please,” you said, not even sure what you were asking for at this point.

“shh shh shh,” frank whispered, “it’s going to be okay, i’m here now, i’m here.”

you clung to him, the fabric of his coat bunched under your hands. he was here now. it would be okay.

“i won’t let them hurt you again, y/n. i swear,” he said.

you only sobbed into him harder.

hours could have passed, but you would have had no idea. all you could feel was him, his body holding you up. his presence keeping you safe.

“i’ve got you now, baby,” frank said, gently pulling you off of him to look at your face. his callused hands met your soft face, brushing away the tears that hadn’t quite stopped falling.

“let me see,” he said, grabbing a hold of your hands and wrists.

he inspected them, raw and bloody from the restraints.

he tutted. “what did they do to you?” he spoke more to himself than to you.

he brought you to edge of the sink, lifting you with ease onto the counter. he examined your knees while he had you sat up there. bloody with bits of gravel, he knew that cleaning those cuts wouldn’t be fun.

“i’ll take care of you, y/n. i got you,” he assured again, and all you could do was lean your tired head against his shoulder.

taglist:

@oliviajdjarin

[chvoswxtch]

Miss ma’am could I have an old fashion with Mr. Castle?👀

Creators choice, go wild my love <3

my fiesty little phoenix,

you can have whatever you'd like. thank you for letting me run wild with this one. I hope you enjoy. <3

headcannon below the cut

frank castle finally takes a goddamn day off

i personally think it's criminal we never got a single scene of what frank likes to do in his free time, so i'm taking it upon myself to make y'all feed into my delusions of what that would look like, because the man deserves a day of fucking peace, so let's give it to him

frank is an early riser. after years in the military, his body is just trained to wake up at a certain time, and no matter how much he wants to sleep in, he just can't

i'd like to think frank sleepily pads through his place, makes himself a strong brew of coffee, and goes outside to watch the sunrise. i think he would enjoy the peace, when it's early in the morning and everything is super still and quiet, and he just gets to exist for a little while, slowly let his body and mind wake up as he takes in the tranquil colors of the sunrise

maybe he'd make himself a nice lil breakfast. he strikes me as a bacon guy, so whatever he makes, just know there's bacon. he likes the applewood smoked thick cuts. don't ask me to explain, i can't. it's just something my soul knows

we saw that frank likes to read, so maybe he spends some of the morning working through a new book. he strikes me as someone that secretly loves murder mysteries, and mysteries in general. i'd like to think he gets really into them and really excited when he figures out the mystery before he reaches the end

"fuckin' knew it was the goddamn maid!"

frank also strikes me as a handyman, and i'd like to think he enjoys little projects. maybe he spends part of the afternoon giving his truck a tune up while listening to classic rock in the garage with a few beers (he's a classic rock guy, don't @ me. y'all saw how excited he got about those bruce springsteen tickets) maybe he's finally putting together some new furniture he got, or even building some new furniture bc he can fucking do anything. maybe he's repainting the spare bedroom bc the white walls were boring and frank's secret guilty pleasures are cooking and home makeover shows

in a perfect world, frank has a dog (it's definitely a sweet, beautiful pitbull) so maybe they go on a little walk together on a nice trail or maybe they go to the doggy park so they can play and when they come back they take a lil nap on the couch together bc it's fucking cute and they're sleepy so why the hell not

i'd also like to think that when the evening rolls around, frank goes to socialize bc the thought of him being lonely breaks my heart in ways i can't explain

maybe he goes over to the lieberman's for dinner and helps sarah cook, teaches david how to fix the sink that's broken in their guest bathroom, plays catch with zach out in the backyard, helps leo with a book report she's writing, and passes out with the kids on the couch twenty minutes into a movie they picked out

or maybe he goes out with curtis to a bar to have a few drinks, gets talked into (and drunk enough) to bust some moves out on the dance floor, giggles with curtis as they drunkenly stumble together to the closest twenty-four hour pizza joint, and ends up having a sleepover with him bc his apartment is closer and the pizza and booze made him sleepy

bonus points if curt doesn't make him take the couch and they just share his bed bc they're drunk and also brothers who cares (you're telling me all that time in the military together and there wasn't a "there's only one bed" situation? sorry, I can't suspend reality that much)

extra bonus points if he goes out with matt, karen, and foggy to josie's and is the only one that can keep up with matt in pool

"can't believe y'all let this bastard cheat you like this. this how you treat your friends, red? hustlin' 'em for free drinks? you're the worst goddamn catholic I ever met."

extra extra bonus points if foggy challenges him to a shot contest but then gets so drunk that frank has to carry him home over his shoulder and karen gets several pictures and videos and matt can't stop cackling

extra extra extra bonus points if he's having to carry matt AND foggy home drunk over his shoulder (bc he could) and karen is still being the absolute mvp getting so many pictures and videos while giggling

i just want this man to have a good fucking day that's all, thank you for coming to my ted talk

[daredevilexchange]

Have you always craved more Punisher/Cap, Daredevil/She Hulk, Elektra/Echo, Mike Murdock/Loki? Are you dreaming of Karen Page/Pepper Potts or Foggy Nelson/Frank Castle? You've come to the right place!

Sign up for DDE's Rarepair Minibang close in a few days!

All iterations of Our Faves are welcome - comics, TV, and even film versions!

Signing up means that you can submit art and/or fic, and that you will have access to claims. Not signing up means no access to claims, and there are some fantastic submissions already :D You can both submit and claim, and you do not have to submit something in order to claim something else!

AO3 collection - Tumblr

Here are the options: - This is both a regular and a reverse bang, meaning you can submit art and/or fic for claims. - You can go the traditional route: submit your work and let people claim! - You can already have a partner in mind, in which case both of you must fill the sign-up form and let me know who your partner is.

What are the criteria? - Fanfic: 1.500 words minimum, must be beta-ed. 500 words only needed for submissions! - Art: one piece minimum. A sketch is fine for submissions! What type of art? Traditional: drawing, painting… or non-conventional: pottery, felt art, gifsets (6 gifs min), fanmixes (6 pieces of music + cover), embroidery, dollhouses, podfic, bookbinding… All visual art must be accompanied with a description.

What is a rarepair? If there are over 1,000 English-language works on AO3 as otp:true (aka, they’re the main ship), then it’s not a rarepair. Excluded as of the time of this FAQ (might be updated): Matt/Foggy, Matt/Frank, Matt/Reader, Frank/Karen. Let me know if you find others, or ask me to check! Your rarepair (or OT+) must include at least one of the characters from the Daredevil, Defenders, Luke Cage, Iron Fist, Jessica Jones, Punisher comics, TV shows, or movies... the rest is up to you :D

The schedule: Signups & submissions open until March 17 Claims: right after. Posting: depending on the number of teams, starting mid-May.

More details in the FAQ (open in a browser page, not the app) below or on DW. Any further questions not answered in the FAQ / on DW? Just send an ask!

Spread the word!

@thebigbangblogproject @marvel-events-central @trackmarvel @nmcunyc @fanwork-exchange-promos

Bangin’ banner by MissMoochy !

Fanart of Danny Rand, Frank Castle, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones and Matt Murdock from the Netflix Marvel TV shows. All five characters are standing behind a table. Danny is wearing a green shirt, smiling gently with his eyes closed. He is holding voodoo dolls of Stick and Alexandra. There are pins in the dolls' hearts. Frank is wearing his Punisher skull t-shirt but the skull has hearts for eyes. Frank is ripping the head off a Fisk voodoo doll and smirking. There is a doll of Bullseye on the table in front of him. Both dolls have pins stuck in them all over. Luke wearing a black and yellow hoody over a black t-shirt and a yellow beanie hat. He is looking with concern at Frank and holding voodoo dolls of Elektra Natchios and Malcolm Ducasse. Jessica is wearing a black jacket over a purple top. She is frowning and sticking a pin into a voodoo doll of Misty Knight and has a doll of Trisha Walker in her jacket pocket. Matt is wearing a red shirt and red sunglasses. He looks worried and is cuddling voodoo dolls of Karen Page and Foggy Nelson. There are doll hearts and pins on the table in front of him. The table is black and the background is pink.

[bunnyhugs22]

[moorheadthanyoucanhandle]

GONE FISSION

Opening in theaters this weekend:

Oppenheimer--This biopic splits time the way its hero splits the atom. Narrative is fissionable to writer-director Christopher Nolan; he skips back and forth between episodes of Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) as a bumbling student, then as a philandering rising star in the new field of quantum physics, then as the determined yet haunted lord of Los Alamos, then as a post-bomb martyr to '50s era red-baiting. It glides along smoothly through its fractured scheme, beautifully shot by Hoyt van Hoytema in black and white and varyingly muted shades of color depending on period and point of view, and pushed along by a solemn Philip Glass-esque score by Ludwig Göransson.

Often crowned by a horizontal wide-brimmed preacher-style hat that makes him look like Brad Dourif in Wise Blood, Murphy uncannily captures the bursting, wide-eyed, near-ecstatic face that we see in photos of Oppenheimer. But he manages to give the performance a human dimension, with everyday foibles and touches of humor. He's not a pageant figure.

Murphy carries a star presence. But he's very ably supported by a huge, colorful gallery of star character players: Robert Downey Jr. as AEC Chairmen Lewis Strauss and Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence and Benny Safdie as Edward Teller and Tom Conti as Albert Einstein and David Krumholtz as Isidore Rabi, Oppenheimer's menschy colleague who makes sure he eats and nudges his conscience, and Matthew Modine and Casey Affleck and Kenneth Branagh and Rami Malek and Alden Ehrenreich, to name only a few.

They're all entertaining, but two in particular jolt the movie to life: Florence Pugh as Oppenheimer's joyless lover Jean Tatlock and Matt Damon as the practical-minded, professionally unimpressed Leslie Groves, representing us laypeople in his deadpan, flummoxed scenes with Murphy. For a while it seems like Emily Blunt is underserved as Kitty Oppenheimer, but near the end she gets a juicy, angry scene opposite AEC lawyer Roger Robb (Jason Clarke), who has underestimated her.

Other than maybe a few too many scenes of the young "Oppie" having visions that look like the psychedelic mindtrip at the end of 2001, there was no point where I found Oppenheimer less than absorbing. Few would suggest that this ambitious, superbly acted, superbly crafted film isn't a major, compelling work, a vast expansion on Roland Joffé's watchable but modest Fat Man and Little Boy from 1989. If Nolan's film isn't quite completely satisfying, there could be two reasons.

One is that trying to arrive at a moral conclusion about this movie's hero seems impossible. Put (too) simply: on the one hand, Oppenheimer won World War II for the good guys and checked fascism (not checkmated it, alas) for more than half a century. On the other hand, his invention has the potential to ruin the world for everybody. Both can be true, and the ambiguity is unresolvable.

Another problem with the film, however, is a matter of simple showmanship. Back in 1994, James Cameron brought his silly action picture True Lies to a point where Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis kiss while, far in the distance, we see a mushroom cloud erupt on the horizon. Triumphant, but then Cameron pushed his luck, piling on one last struggle with the villain in a Harrier jet. I remember thinking (and writing) at the time that when your hero and heroine kiss in front of a mushroom cloud, the movie is over.

Oppenheimer, obviously a very different movie, is uneasily structured in the same way. The scenes leading up to the Trinity Test at White Sands in 1945 are riveting, pulse pounding. The explosion and the immediate aftermath, ending the war in Japan, is a stunning dramatic climax.

But then the movie keeps going, for another hour or so, detailing the war of spite and will between Strauss and Oppenheimer, and the revocation of Oppenheimer's security clearance. It's interesting, provocative material in itself, but it seems a little petty and trivial after the "I am become death; destroyer of worlds" stuff. Given Nolan's supposed consummate skill at scrambling sequence, couldn't he have somehow structured the movie to end with a bang and not a whimper?

Barbie--Something is rotten in the state of Barbieland. As this, her first live-action feature begins, our titular heroine finds herself haunted, right in the middle of raging dance parties at her Dreamhouse, by thoughts of death. Still more alarming, when she steps out of her pumps, her feet go flat to the ground.

To be clear, the Barbie in question, played by Margot Robbie, is "Stereotypical Barbie," the blond, inhumanly thin and leggy iconic version of the Mattel doll. She shares the relentlessly cheery pink-plastic realm of Barbieland with countless other Barbies of every race and body shape and profession, all happy and accomplished and untroubled and mutually supportive. They're dimly aware of us in the "Real World"; they believe that their own harmony has created an example that has led to female empowerment and civil rights over here.

The Barbies also share Barbieland with Ken (Ryan Gosling) and countless variant Kens, as well as Ken's featureless friend Allan (a perfectly cast Michael Cera). But the guys exist entirely as accessories to the relatively uninterested Barbies. Ken's unrequited fascination with Barbie makes him subject, unlike the Barbies, to dissatisfaction.

Barbie goes for advice to "Weird Barbie" (Kate McKinnon), whose hair is frizzy and patchy and who's stuck in a permanent split. She's told that her troubles come from the dark feelings of somebody who's playing with her in our reality, so she sets out on a quest to the Real World, emerging in Venice Beach. Barbie connects with a mom and teenage daughter (America Ferrera and Ariana Greenblatt) whose relationship is strained; she's also pursued by the all-male board of Mattel, led by Will Ferrell. Ken, meanwhile, learns about our patriarchy, likes what he hears, and heads back to Barbieland alone to institute it, with himself at the top.

Mattel was founded in 1945, the same year as the Trinity Test, and there are probably feminist social critics who would argue that Barbie, invented in 1959 by Mattel co-founder Ruth Handler (well played by Rhea Perlman in the film), has wreaked only a little less havoc on the modern psyche than Oppenheimer's gadget. Even though I'm in exactly the right generational wheelhouse (I was born in 1962), my own childhood experience with Barbie was very limited, and thus so were my nostalgic associations with her.

Even so, this nutty fantasy, directed by Greta Gerwig from a brilliant script she wrote with Noah Baumbach, made me laugh from its inspired first scene to its Wings of Desire finish. Narrated in the droll, arch tones of Helen Mirren, it manages to come across as both an ingenious pop-culture lampoon/celebration and an unpretentious but surprisingly heartfelt deep dive into the implications of the Barbie archetype. I wasn't a big fan of Gerwig's 2019 version of Little Women, but here she builds her world with the freedom of, well, a kid playing with dolls, but also with the confidence and adult perspective of an artist.

Not everything in the movie works; in the second half the narrative gets a little lost at times in some very strange musical numbers/battle scenes, and the whole thing comes close to going on a bit too long. And it's hard to say just who this movie is for. It hardly seems intended for little girls; however smart, they're too young for the commentary about female identity to mean much to them yet. It seems more like it's meant for adult women with both a fondness for and an ambivalence toward Barbie.

No doubt there are those who would also complain that, however witty and self-effacing, the movie amounts to a feature-length commercial for the brand. But in the age of Marvel and other such franchises, it seems a little late to object to this.

The revelation in the film is Margot Robbie. It seems ridiculous that she's able, in the role of freaking Barbie, to give a performance of such subtlety and nuance and shading and quiet, unforced wistfulness, but she does. And she gets to deliver the best last line of the year.

Theater Camp--Joan, the founder of "AndirondACTS," a slightly gone-to-seed theater camp in upstate New York, has fallen into a coma. The job of keeping the struggling camp afloat falls to her decidedly non-theatrical "crypto bro" son Troy. Meanwhile the devoted instructors work with the exuberantly happy campers to mount the shows, including an original musical about the life of poor comatose Joan (Amy Sedaris). Needless to say, all does not go smoothly.

The creators of this Waiting for Guffman-esque "mockumentary" comedy, Molly Gordon, Nick Lieberman, Ben Platt and Noah Galvin, know the world they're depicting well; all of them have been doing theater since they were small children. Gordon and Lieberman co-directed, from a script by all four; Platt and Gordon play Amos and Rebecca-Diane, the utterly enmeshed, co-dependent acting instructors and Galvin plays the low-profile tech director.

They capture the camaraderie and the sense of belonging that theater can give kids, and their affection for that world is unmistakable, but they're careful not to get too sentimental. The envies and resentments and passive-aggressive denigrations among theater folk, especially at this often professionally frustrated level, are vividly represented.

Getting laughs from the self-important vanities of theater people is pretty low-hanging fruit, I suppose, but Theater Camp is nonetheless often hilarious. The film also manages to get a little deeper at times, touching on the irony that while theater can create a haven and a community for misfit kids, this can generate its own clannishness and exclusionary snobbery, as in Amos and Rebecca-Diane's coldness toward the imbecilic but well-intentioned Troy, charmingly played by a sort of poor-man's Channing Tatum named Jimmy Tatro.

The real joy in Theater Camp, of course, is the acting: Platt, Gordon, Tatro, plus a few vets like Sedaris, Caroline Aaron and David Rasche bring the material to life. But as Glenn, the long-suffering backstage drudge who really ought to be onstage, Noah Galvin, who replaced Platt on Broadway in Dear Evan Hansen, is the revelation among the adults in the cast. He's a knockout.

The revelation among the kids playing the campers is, well, pretty much all of the kids playing the campers. There are some real singing, dancing and acting prodigies in this company. If there was a real theater camp somewhere with this kind of talent, their shows would sell out.

[mannekenpressprints]

Manneken Press at EXPO Chicago 2023

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[marvelbrackets]

[missizzy]

Habeas for Superheroes, Part 12: Saving the Liebermans(Daredevil, Matt/Foggy)

Read full work on AO3

It was late in the evening when Foggy headed out to Queens for the second time that day. Sarah, as she'd told Foggy to call her, was waiting outside. "I managed to get my father to look after the kids," she said, "but they're all three of them wondering what's going on. My son got aggressive about it." She sighed at that. "I don't know what we're going to tell them."

"We'll figure it out," said Foggy. "Situations like this, you always have to figure out things like that as you go along. You can try preparing things beforehand, but whatever you're planning, it won't work out. Trust me."

She, for instance, didn't yet know exactly what she was going to say to Matt when he met them in Manhattan to lead them to where David Lieberman was hiding. They had only communicated by email since her first visit to Queens that morning. She was determined not to apologize, because she wasn't sorry. But she was aware that just telling him why she'd done it would probably lead to the kind of argument they did not want to have in front of a stranger.

Maybe Matt himself realized, that, though. When Foggy and Sarah emerged onto the street to find him waiting there, as soon as Foggy had called out his name he was stepping forward and offering his hand, saying, "Good evening, Mrs. Lieberman. My name is Matt Murdock. I'm Ms. Nelson's husband. Your husband is staying near the river. This way." Then he just turned and walked off, making a show of using the cane, but not taking Foggy's arm. Or getting anywhere near her, even though she'd worn shoes more than loud enough to avert any suspicions.

Sarah threw Foggy a concerned look at this. Foggy looked away, just saying, "Come on, let's get this over with."

They kept close to him as they reached the river, walking through the dark corners of New York that they'd both avoided before now, even as those they loved had plunged into them. It wasn't a cold night, but Sarah was shivering anyway, and at least looked distracted enough she might have not noticed the ease with which Matt made his way, even though there wasn't much to mark the route for a blind man. Not much for even a seeing one, honestly. The buildings all looked the same in the dark, at least until they saw the one with a light in its entrance.

David Lieberman was waiting for them there. He was a fairly tall man with dirty blonde hair and beard, extremely disheveled at the moment, and his clothes were in worse shape. The minute his wife laid eyes on him, she strode up to him and shoved him into the door. Which wasn't very stable; it gave way behind him and sent him stumbling further back. Sarah didn't even seem to notice. She just moved forward into the broken doorframe and shoved him again, and again.

Foggy couldn't make out all of her words. There was "What did you do?" and "We saw you die!" (that one was loud and she yelled it multiple times) and something about months.

As Matt moved forward to intervene, Foggy quietly said, "I think you should let her have it out with him, Matt. In fact, I think we should move out of earshot. Or at least far enough away. Unless you think there's anyone dangerous around."

"We're the only people in the immediate area," said Matt. "Back to the river and I won't even catch their voices without concentrating." They didn't have to worry about being overheard by the Liebermans; they could hear enough from inside the building to know that.

They walked back to the river in silence. Foggy could feel the tension rising, but she also felt their surroundings, despite Matt's belief they were safe for the moment. She might refrain from yelling at him just for that, lucky him.

When they got there, and Foggy was staring out at water barely visibly in the darkness, Matt spoke first, his voice very cool as he asked, "You are aware you may have just gotten all four of them killed?"

A harsh cut, but one Foggy had anticipated. "I admit I didn't anticipate her taking matters into her own hands like that. I made it pretty clear I wasn't planning for anyone to do anything in response to my telling her."

"I think her husband did. I think he had a pretty damn good reason for keeping her in the dark, that being he knew her and he knew she might react like this."

Probably neither of them anticipated the nerve that one touched. "So you're just assuming men like you two know what's best for your wives? I thought I told you what I thought of that nonsense back in college!" It was very hard not to yell. "We wives are not just pets to be protected from our own foolish impulses."

Matt looked a little hangdog and like he wanted to protest that whole thing, but a moment later he instead said, "But you're not like Mrs. Lieberman. You're not incapable of taking care of yourself, and you actually have some idea of what you're up against, and anyway, the people who would go after you can't so long as they don't know I'm Daredevil, so we've never quite been in their current situation."

"And if we were?" Foggy asked, because that was an important question, and this might be her best chance to get it answered.

Matt fell silent. After half a minute or so, Foggy gave up on an immediate answer, and continued, "While you're chewing on that, let me also point out that if David had slipped up-and do remember he had no experience with anything even remotely like this-Sarah would've had no way to know they were coming for her or their children."

"I'm pretty sure he could've called her very fast, if it came to that. The kids, too, even if they'd been at school or otherwise out of the house. I couldn't tell everything about the set-up he's got in there-and I don't think anyone who wasn't an IT professional could've either-but I know enough about his activities that it would shock me if he couldn't."

Maybe that was true. But Foggy still went on, "She's told me a bit more about what the past months have been like for her, too. She's been very alone, you know. Most of the friends she and her husband had snubbed her after he was condemned as a traitor. And the kids have suffered similar in school, and the son, Zach, has basically become a problem kid in response. And she truly was devastated to lose him. I don't usually believe traditional claptrap about women and men, but I am becoming convinced that a woman absolutely can get herself so invested in her husband that losing him can break her."

"Foggy," Matt's stricken response to this wasn't a surprise. She was a little more caught off guard by just how hard seeing him that way still got to her. It took her time to pull her thoughts or feelings together enough to say anything more.

Too much time. First, Matt said, "Everything he did in there was for them, you know. What he did to get them in this predicament might not have been, but he's no noble crusader wanting to dedicate even half of his life to this. His main goal now is finding a way home he can live with."

There was a romanticism to that, Foggy acknowledged. But if there was one thing she had learned over the past year and a half, it was that romance didn't really get you anything in the end, not even emotional comfort.

But the pause in the argument had made her realize she was tired, and didn't want to get off onto that tangent with Matt. She seemed to get tired more easily than she had even a year ago.

She found herself asking, "So, what are we doing anyway? Do we want to get the Avengers involved in this?"

"Perhaps," said Matt. "They could even conceivably get the entire Lieberman family out of the country if they're willing to go, and even if we shouldn't involve Stark right now, they could get the incriminating documents leaked probably within days. And that's if they even bother trying to not be connected to it. It would probably be a stronger case if they weren't, but I'm not sure Rogers has ever cared about such things."

"Either way, that probably would solve the current dilemma, if Lieberman didn't know anything the world hadn't heard about, too, and his getting killed again would only make them look worse." As Foggy said this, she observed her husband's reaction. She would've liked him to be a lot more pleased by this.

He only said, "We don't know how much he knows, not really, especially when he's had half a year to do nothing but hack into all the government's systems. It would be safer for him and his family if we handled this more quietly. Romanov could probably think of some way to do it."

"I can guess the real reason you don't want to go public, you know," Foggy snapped, because she already had. "You just don't want to feel responsible when Frank finds out and of course he's probably going to want to kill everyone involved, and ultimately, he's only likely to hold back for the sake of our cases for so long. But I don't know if he'd even succeed, Matt. He's never gone after anyone truly powerful."

"That's not my only reason," Matt sighed, which probably was true enough. "But I think he probably would succeed, at least for one of them. Possibly get himself killed in the process, which of course he doesn't care about, but Karen would."

"And she wouldn't be the only one, would she?" Foggy asked, because Karen was the one more obviously emotionally entangled with Frank, but she had already thought Matt was, too, in a weird way. Though really, if she was being extremely honest, she wasn't indifferent to his fate herself.

Matt might have even looked embarrassed for a second. Then he said, "Either way, we still need to get the Liebermans out. Do you think they'll refuse to be evacuated?"

"I hope not," said Foggy. "Though maybe we'd better go check in on them, make sure Sarah hasn't stormed off alone in the dark part of town in the middle of the night."

She hadn't; when Matt and Foggy returned to the building, they found both Liebermans standing together in front of the entrance. "So," Foggy asked them, "do you two have any idea what you want to do now?"

"Only that we want to be fully reunited as a family," said Sarah, "in any way that's relatively safe for us."

"So you would be willing to leave the country?" Matt asked.

The two of them looked at each other. "Is the situation really that hopeless?" David Lieberman asked.

Foggy saw Matt consider it, as she did the same. "Anything we attempt to do that's legal will inevitably take time," she said, "and we'd definitely have to hide you somewhere to keep you from getting killed, I'm afraid."

"And probably you and your children as well," said Matt, "because as soon as the people responsible for this realize you're still working against them, well, if they can't get to you, they'll get to anyone you care about that they can reach. In fact, do you two have anyone else who might need protecting?"

"My father," said Sarah. Looking at her husband, she added, "Maybe your sister, too? Even if I'm not sure anyone's heard from her since the sit shiva. I sure haven't."

"It might not have to be forever, though," Foggy offered. "You might be able to come back when everything is resolved."

"I think we both know enough to know that's going to take a long time," said David. "Thanks for offering the hope of us returning eventually, though."

"Very well, then," said Matt. "There are people who can help you, and I expect to be in contact with them next week. Until then, Mrs. Lieberman, we have to decide where you and your children will stay. We have other friends who can take you in, or can even watch over them if you choose to stay in your own house, though I would advise against that."

"We'll have to go back there, though," said Sarah. "The kids and my father are there." Foggy heard the terror when it first came into her voice, when it at last hit her just how much danger her entire family was now in.

"I've seen no signs of them paying any more attention to the three of you at the moment," said David. "Even if we did anything today that might change that, surely there'll be at least a few hours' lag."

"Probably," Matt agreed. "Foggy and I should both take you home. I'll call one of my friends to try to meet us there."

The friend he had in mind turned out to be Danny Rand. That made sense; Luke Cage was far too high profile to work for this, and Jessica Jones might refuse to help. Foggy was happy to leave Matt to deal with him and keep nearer to Sarah.

She spent a few minutes debating with herself whether to ask it, but when they were almost out of the deserted area, she did: "Should I not have told you?"

"Absolutely you should have," said Sarah. "I mean, I suppose you really should ask me that in a few more days...but I think my answer will be the same. Whatever happens to the four of us now...at least provided we all survive it, we'll probably all four be better off."

"Wow," said Foggy, because while Sarah had told her about her various woes, she hadn't realized it was *that* bad.

Matt finished his phone call with the news that Danny hoped to reach Queens in one or two hours. "Maybe longer, if what he's dealing with right now takes more time than he's expecting."

They couldn't talk as much on the train, but when they emerged into the Liebermans' neighborhood, Matt said, "I think you'll like Danny. He'd a good guy, very nice."

She, Foggy thought, probably would. On the other hand, she wasn't looking forward to how her son was likely to deal with him.

Very early the next morning

After it was decided they should stagger their departures from the Liebermans' house, Foggy left first. Not caring to travel too far alone in the dark, she called a cab to pick up her from a few blocks away, arriving back in Hell's Kitchen as the sun was just starting to peek out from between the buildings.

She headed up the stairs, trying to figure out, in her exhausted state, exactly how late to work she could get away with being that day. When she took as glance at her email as she walked into the apartment, she did so with the thought that hopefully there wouldn't be anything important.

Instead, she found herself reading an email from Jessica, asking her to call as soon as she could, regardless of the late/early hour. Foggy spent a good two minutes trying to mentally stretch the definition of the word "could," before sighing and calling.

The third ring had come and gone, and Foggy was a split second from sighing in relief and disconnecting, when she heard Jessica's, "Oh, now you're answering, Ms. Nelson?"

"I only saw your email now. It's been a very busy night. What have you got?"

"Some real dirt on our friend Carson Wolf. Turns out along with everything else, he's been dealing in heroin. Not only that, he's been smuggling it out of Afghanistan with the bodies of military personnel killed in action. I haven't found how he's been selling it yet, or what he's then doing with the money, since it doesn't look like he's been keeping most of it-which in itself probably means more dirt, and I can think of one possibility."

Foggy, too, had a pretty good idea of just what that money had been spent on, and a guess on who'd sold the heroin as well. Her first impulse was to tell Jessica that, but not only was it way too dangerous to do that over the phone, but Matt had mentioned he'd left out Lieberman's still being alive in what he told her, and she thought perhaps it would be better if they moved him and his family to safety first.

Still, if the government had tried to murder at least two people who had both only known part of what was going on, she couldn't keep silent completely. "Listen," she said, after thinking over her words for a few moments. "I'd like you to actually sit on this information for possibly a few days, and just leave everything be; suspend the investigation. I hope I'll be able to explain why eventually, but I don't think I can yet."

"Really?" Jessica did not sound at all impressed. "If Wolf or any of his friends determines for sure that they've been snooped on-and they are almost certainly prepared for that possibility already-it's going to get way harder to find out anything else."

"I trust you to handle all that," said Foggy. "I'll get back to you later, I promise."

"Have it you way, then. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. Good..." she glanced at the clock, and just sighed, "Goodbye, then."

There was nothing else important in her emails. Foggy stayed awake just long enough to send a few of her own, notifying everyone she would probably be in late that day. Then she crawled between the sheets with her blouse still on and was asleep within seconds.

She didn't think it was long after that when she was woken by a second body collapsing onto the bed. She might have made some vague, bleary noises in response to this, before she felt a familiar hand stroke her head, and her husband's voice murmur, "Go back to sleep, Foggy."

When she woke again, late in the morning, she found Matt asleep on top of the bed, still in most of his clothes, though he had at least taken his shoes off. She pulled his socks off as well; the smell was already going to linger on his feet and pester him for probably a day or so as it was.

He stirred slightly when Foggy was in the shower; she came out to find he'd spread himself out, his head moved to where hers had been, before falling back asleep. He'd probably been drawn to her scent. Even now, she couldn't help but smile.

It was late enough she was definitely taking a cab to the office. For most of the walk down the stairs, she contemplated exactly what she was going to tell Karen and when, but, she then realized, there were probably only reasons not to tell her at the moment. She could cite them to her friend if she ever had to defend herself to her over it. And she absolutely, positively, should not feel like she was letting her down, not telling her.

She would, on the other hand, have to tell Marci and Jennifer everything that both Jessica and David had found out about Wolf. Although she couldn't tell Jennifer until she came back to New York again, and Foggy wasn't even sure when she was going to do so. Hell, even when she did, it might be Matt who ended up talking with her.

Marci, on the other hand, she could tell today. And then she would have to tell her, too, to sit on it without explaining why. She wasn't looking forward to that. Especially since she would also want to leave Frank's still being alive out of it, too, and that might be a little tricky.

It filled her with enough dread that when her phone rang just after she got into the cab, she nearly jumped. But it wasn't Marci, or Karen. It was Cheryl. Foggy would probably have to tell her a few things, too, but at the moment she had no idea how much.

When she answered the phone, Cheryl said to her, "Hey, Foggy, I think you picked the wrong morning to sleep in. Stark announced something like twenty minutes ago he's holding a press conference, in which, the announcement says, 'he will address general recent unfortunate events related to the Avengers,' although he also said he's going to talk about Colonel Rhodes' condition."

Rhodes still hadn't been seen publicly since he'd been shot down during the fight in Germany. All else aside, she was genuinely very curious to see how he was doing. The way things were going, it might just prove relevant to their activities.

She wanted to believe the rest at least wouldn't prove too bad for them. Were he a sensible person, he might have realized by now he couldn't just trust Ross's latest claims that they'd be doing everything legally and properly from there in. But of course, it was well known he was not, and Foggy did not quite trust him to not hide behind the government's current front.

"So how long do I have to get there?" Foggy asked, trying to gauge the current traffic. She was late enough the worst of it might have passed, at least.

"Officially it starts in about half an hour. You can always hope he'll be late."

Foggy wasn't going to rely on that. She went through the news websites after ending the call. Several had already started up their liveblogs, none of which yet had much to tell. There were also a lot of reports of people claiming they'd spotted Rogers or another one of his rogue Avengers near where they lived, none of which Foggy believed, but too many newly published news articles were reiterating them all.

Perhaps a little more interesting were a couple of them also listing a couple of reports of Hank Pym possibly being spotted in a bus station in Oakland. Ross and the government's other representatives hadn't ever mentioned their names when talking to the press. Even Lang's indictment hadn't mentioned them too much, and none of the other indictments had. Presumably they'd been worried about the populace's reaction to noticing that someone who had reportedly denounced the Avengers was getting charged just because they'd used his technology. That was a dangerous step to take, after all.

If the mainstream media was, at last, noticing the existence of these two people, that was probably good for their cause. Even if none of them were yet asking if they should've been charged, instead treating them as more normal fugitives from actual justice who needed to be found.

They were maybe about ten minutes away from the office, with the press conference scheduled to start in five, when she got the text from Karen. I'd say sorry in advance, but... She actually didn't groan. She was too resigned for that.

[mariacallous]

Some prominent conservative lawmakers and commentators are advocating for ending no-fault divorce, laws that exist in all 50 US states and allow a person to end a marriage without having to prove a spouse did something wrong, like commit adultery or domestic violence.

The socially conservative, and often religious, rightwing opponents of such divorce laws are arguing that the practice deprives people – mostly men – of due process and hurt families, and by extension, society. Republican lawmakers in Louisiana, Oklahoma, Nebraska and Texas have discussed eliminating or increasing restrictions on no-fault marriage laws.

Defenders of the laws, which states started passing a half-century ago, see legislation and arguments to repeal them as the latest effort to restrict women’s rights – following the overturning of Roe v Wade and passage of abortion bans around the country – and say that without such protections, the country would return to an earlier era when women were often trapped in abusive marriages.

“No-fault divorce is critical to the ability, particularly the ability of women, to be able to exercise autonomy in their own relationships, in their own lives,” said Denise Lieberman, an adjunct professor at the Washington University School of Law in St Louis, who has a specialty in policies concerning gender, sexuality and sexual violence.

Before 1969, when then California Republican governor Ronald Reagan, who had been divorced, approved the country’s first no-fault divorce law, women, who are more likely to experience violence from an intimate partner, were often forced to stay in marriages. If they could not prove that their husband had been abusive or persuade him to grant a divorce, they would not be able to take any assets from the marriage or remarry, according to a study in the Quarterly Journal of Economics.

States around America gradually followed suit and passed similar laws allowing unilateral divorce until 2010, when New York became the last state to approve the practice.

Between 1976 and 1985, states that passed the laws saw their domestic violence rates against men and women fall by about 30%; the number of women murdered by an intimate partner declined by 10%; and female suicide rates declined by 8 to 16%.

Without such laws, “it’s hard to prove anything in court relating to a family because you don’t have any witnesses”, said Kimberly Wehle, professor at the University of Baltimore School of Law. “It’s very difficult to get evidence to show abuse of children. How do you do it? Do you put your kids on the stand?”

Conservative commentators such as Matt Walsh, Steven Crowder and lawmakers such as the Republican senator JD Vance of Ohio have argued that the laws are unfair to men and hurt society because they lead to more divorces.

The divorce rate in the United States increased significantly from 1960, when it was 9.2 per 1,000 married women, to 22.6 in 1980. But by 2022, the rate had fallen to 14.5.

On the increase in divorces, Vance said in 2021: “One of the great tricks that I think the sexual revolution pulled on the American populace” is the idea that “these marriages were fundamentally, you know, they were maybe even violent, but certainly they were unhappy, and so getting rid of them and making it easier for people to shift spouses like they change their underwear, that’s going to make people happier in the long term”.

Beverly Willett, a writer and attorney, argues that unilateral no-fault divorce is also unconstitutional because it violates a person’s 14th amendment right to due process.

The defendant “has absolutely no recourse to say, ‘Wait a minute. I don’t want to be divorced, and I don’t think that there are grounds for divorce. I would like to be heard. I would like to call witnesses,’” said Willett, who experienced a divorce she didn’t want because she thought her marriage could be saved. “I believed in my vows” and “didn’t want to give up”.

But Willett’s argument relies on the idea that “women are either property or that somehow men’s liberty is restrained by not allowing them to stay in a marriage with someone who does not want to be married”, said Wehle, who also wrote about it in the Atlantic. “I disagree with the idea that women are somehow property interests of their husbands. That is an arcane relic of law that has no place in modern society.”

Willett responded to Wehle’s critique by writing that “nobody has suggested a return to antiquated laws of the 18th and 19th century. Considerable reform that protects women and ensures their equality in family court has been enacted since then.”

On the argument that no-fault divorce reduces domestic violence, Willett points to data that most domestic violence occurs between unmarried couples and says regardless, with “any contract, any lawsuit, you still have to follow the constitution”.

But without such laws, victims of domestic violence would then have to navigate a court system that can be time-consuming, “very adversarial and very costly” because the plaintiff often must then pay for child care and transportation, said Marium Durrani, vice-president of policy for the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

“Any sort of additional barrier that we add to the ease of legal proceeding is, frankly, a nightmare and an enormous burden for survivors,” said Durrani. “I’m not trying to be an alarmist, but it can increase death [if] a survivor of domestic violence has to prove that they are being abused in a divorce proceeding.”

Still, Lieberman does not think Republicans will succeed in their efforts to make it more difficult for people to get divorced.

“I do believe that that train has left the station. I mean, we have had no-fault divorce now for 50 years,” Lieberman said. But “I didn’t think the supreme court would overturn Roe v Wade, which we had for 50 years, so I suppose we will see.”

[zushigirl]

In honor of Come What May…a three part story of how I wish things would turn out… Enjoy! I’ll be posting the full story on AO3 as we go :)

I Take My Coffee Black: Part I

Now…Metro General

“What the hell is this crap?”

Frank practically spits the hot liquid back into the flimsy white paper cup.

“Get off your high horse. It’s Folger’s Instant. Same stuff we used to drink in the desert.”

Curtis takes a sip of his own coffee, studying Frank under the brim of his USMC baseball cap. Curt’s blood shot eyes are a dead giveaway that he – like most of New York – have been up all night. Watching with bated breath as Daredevil and a host of superheroes take on Fisk’s minions.

With a sigh, Frank takes another sip of his coffee. “Goddamn - ”

He hisses slightly, the cut on his lip stinging. Curt had done his best to patch up both Frank and Red after the firefight with Bullseye. Makeup covered most of Frank’s bruises, but it couldn’t conceal the worry in his eyes. He can tell by the way his former medic keeps glancing at him… then at the door across the way.

“This is the best Metro General can afford?” he growls, trying to distract himself.

“At 0500? Yes, it is.”

Frank frowns, looking down the stark pale green hallway. Men and women in blue scrubs walk by at a leisurely pace. Unaffected. Unaware that the bravest, ballsiest woman on the planet is in critical care. Recovering from a gunshot wound.

Mourning the loss of her best friend.

“Foggy!”

He can still hear her scream the Counselor’s name. He can feel her panic, panic he never wanted her to feel. David’s feed made it sound like they were two feet away… instead, it took twenty minutes to get to the bloodbath. Even with Lieberman driving like a maniac.

Goddamnit, we should have gotten there sooner.

His eyes trace the entrance of the recovery room. One of those flimsy blue hospital curtains blocks a small window above the door handle. An added layer of privacy. Damn thing feels more suffocating than any red line.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Curt assures him. “They patched up the exit wound and the broken rib. That maniac may be an expert marksman, but she beat him at his own game.” He pauses before adding, “Karen Page must be a pretty special woman…to make you choose here instead of another war.”

You could choose…you could just choose…

Ocean eyes flicker in his memory. Why hadn’t he told her the truth that day, when he was the one in the hospital bed? He thought leaving her was the right thing. He thought…

Frank stares blankly into the distance as he takes another sip of bland coffee and tries not to think about what could have happened.

Thank god Karen clipped Bullseye’s right hand. The fucker was in custody now. Good thing too. If that psychopath ever made it out of prison…none of Red’s preaching would keep Frank from unleashing hell on Benjamin Poindexter.

Red…

The warble of Channel Five news can be heard from the TV at one of the nursing stations. A flicker of worry rises in Frank’s belly. He wants to be pissed at Red but at the same time…

“You were right Frank. I was just one bad day away. Please don’t let her’s get any worse.”

He can’t shake the hollow sound in Matt Murdock’s voice off of him. Can’t shake the image of the other man standing there in blood. His best friend’s blood. Karen’s blood.

Fuck.

“Mr. Castiglione?”

He turns. A new nurse has come on shift, name tag reads Temple. Her dark brown eyes hover on his cut lip. He gets the impression she takes no bullshit.

“Yes ma’am?”

The nurse sighs, pursuing her lips.

“Karen’s going to be okay.”

She says the name with a warm familiarity. Frank immediately wonders how much this woman knows.

“Blood pressure and heat rate are stable. No signs of any complications from surgery.” Temple hesitates… “Your wife’s a fighter for sure.”

Frank doesn’t meet Curt’s gaze, just prays the other man’s eyes aren’t bursting out of their sockets. There hadn’t had time to brief him on the plan. He was just thankful David was quick to pull some strings. A fake marriage license and a passport may be their only ticket to safety.

The woman pauses, eyes narrowing in the silence.

“I know I haven’t been back in town that long, but I’m kinda miffed no one invited me to the wedding. Thought I would have heard about from Matt or Fog…”

She catches herself, sadness flashing across her face.

“Fuck…I’m sorry.”

“No – uh – he’d…he would have wanted all of Karen’s friends to know.” Frank feels his throat tightening. “He loved her too. Probably better than me or… Re…or Matt … if I’m being honest.”

He remembers the look of stricken panic on the Counselor’s face all those years ago. When he’d asked Karen to stay. What would the man’s reaction be to what he asks now?

An older nurse approaches, waving his clipboard at Temple. “She’s up,” he gestures towards Karen’s room. “Threatened to pull out her IV if I don’t get her a real cup of coffee. Told her it’s water only for the next twelve hours. She wasn’t happy.”

Frank chuckles despite himself. “Atta’ girl,” he murmurs.

“Are you coming, Mr. Castiglione?”

The way Temple sizes him up conveys that she trusts him even if she doesn’t believe his story.

He feels his pulse jump. They’d seen each other in the midst of the fight but they hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t spoken since that horrible day when she walked out of his hospital room barefoot. What could he say to her? How could he possibly ask her to –

“She’s waiting, Frank.” Curt’s voice is one of gentle reassurance.

He takes a deep breath, turns on his heels, the stops. “Curt… go home. You’ve done enough. I’ll stand the watch.”

His friend frowns. “You sure man?” I don’t mind staying.”

Frank pauses before answering, a memory flickering in his mind’s eye. Karen and Nelson, sitting at the hipster coffee shop across from their law firm. Sipping coffee and going over case notes. He’d watched from the roof two streets over, not proud to admit the number of times he’d checked on Karen from afar.

“Proof Coffee opens at 0800. Can you come back tomorrow morning with a real damn cup? Make that two. She takes hers black with a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

The nurse seems impressed that he knows Karen’s drink of choice. Curt has enough ware with all to keep a neutral face.

“I’m on it. I’ll let Lieberman know your staying here. See you in 27 hours.”

He spins on his heels and walks down the hall.

Frank watches him go, then follows nurse Temple across the waiting area. She opens the door to the recovery room, pushing back that damn blue curtain quietly. Then she gestures for Frank to step in front of her.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of the vitals monitor is a steady hum. It’s oddly comforting.

And terrifying.

It means Karen is awake. It means he’s about to speak to her for the first time in… far too long.

He finds the courage to look forward and he sees her. Sitting upright in the bed. Face turned to the window. The sunrise casting her in a celestial glow. Her expression is a haunted one Frank knows all too well…but not the shock of someone who’s new to trauma.

He realizes in that moment that his gut instinct was right. Karen’s felt this kind of pain before.

“Karen, your husband is here.” Temple’s voice is gentle.

A quiet feels the air. Time stops. In the void, Frank wonders if his heartbeat is loud enough for Red to hear all the way across Manhattan.

He watches Karen turn her head. Watches her eyes widen in confusion at the word husband. Then recognition. Then something he’s too scared to name.

They’re both silent for a moment, not noticing as the nurse slips out. Then tears are welling in Karen’s eyes and Frank is falling to his knees by her hospital bed.

“Hey, hey,” he chokes out. “I lied. I lied. Okay? That day…Karen…”

Soft fingers grab his trembling ones. He places his free palm over hers, holding with two hands now.

“I know you lied, you asshole,” Karen says between sobs. “You’re such an asshole…but I…” Her ocean eyes are bright with the words they won’t say yet.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, I am.”

“Please tell me you brought real coffee.”

The sound of footsteps silences Frank’s answer.

*

27 hours later…

“I’ll take three drip coffees,” Curtis Hoyle smiles at the barista, waiting for a response.

The bleary-eyed girl with wild auburn tinted hair and a cut-off t-shirt reading MJ just blinks at him.

“Cool. You want room for milk or cream?”

“No…uh…actually, can you sprinkle some cinnamon in one of them.”

The girl gives a half nod as Curtis swipes his card. He sighs, stepping to the side of the cheerful yellow counter. He knows he’s getting old, but whoever Proof Coffee’s manager is could have done a better job with hiring. MJ has the bedside manner of cardboard; not great for 0800 on a Thursday –

Piiinnnggg!

The girl passes three paper cups to Curt, hurriedly grabbing her phone from its charging station. He takes a few sips of his cup, watching her agitated movements.

“Peter! Jesus Christ! Is everyone okay…”

Her hazel eyes widen in relief and Curtis feels guilty for judging her. MJ’s been worried.

“News. Alright. I’ll take a look. Be careful.”

The call’s barely over before the teen is swiping on her phone. Curtis takes a final swig of his own coffee while grabbing to-go lids, trying to look casual.

“Everything good? You seem a little stressed.”

MJ bobs her head, flipping her phone in Curtis’s face. Apple News.

“Shit,” Curtis mutters as he reads the screen.

He turns to leave, then thinks twice. Grabs the two coffees. He may need them as an excuse to sneak back into the hospital.

“Thank you, Miss!”

He leaves MJ staring at her phone. At the headline…

FRANK CASTLE, THE PUNISHER, REPORTEDLY SEEN AT METRO GENERAL.