#thank you to whatever filmmaker made this decision

[allthethoughtsandstuff]

and then they kissed 🫶🏻😚

[pandasmagorica]

First watch: Neverland

This is an all-too-short web series (shy of 1.5 hours total) from India about a lesbian couple who face the disapproval of their families when one of them comes out at college graduation, leading to their separation.

There's a lot of sturm und drang getting there, but there's ultimately a happy ending. Still, there are supportive side characters that help them get through, and the families' opposition, while unpleasant, isn't over the top.

Some technical issues: I occasionally needed the subtitles (the actor playing Rooh tended to swallow the ends of her lines and some lines by both main actors were delivered more quietly than others) and the subtitles weren't always available (and went out of sync, early by several seconds mid-episode once), but 99% of the dialog is in English and the story is totally follow-able without them.

While the episodes are way too short, no time is wasted and they hit the story points hard. I recommend this series. Thank you to @twig-tea for the rec.

Spoilers follow

Early in the series, Rooh and Aditi confess to each other and begin a relationship. But when Rooh comes out at graduation, her father flips out and Aditi's mother starts trying to set Aditi, still in the closet, up with her since-childhood male friend Rishi. Rishi, fortunately, has sized up the score and is supportive. Nevertheless, Rooh gives Aditi an ultimatum to run away with her, Aditi misses the connection, and Rooh disappears.

I was so frustrated with Rooh at this point. Coming out is an individual decision, and I feel she was putting too much pressure on Aditi. The scene is set before the India Supreme Court decision legalizing homosexual acts between adults - it plays a part in the plot - but even if it hadn't been, it's still an unfair ask.

So Rooh disappears for two years where she does very well in her career, to the point where her success is publicized. Aditi brings this to Rooh's father's attention The unshown assumption is that in the interim, Rooh's father has made it clear to Aditi that, whatever he thinks about Rooh being lesbian, he wants his daughter back. Rooh returns, and wants to start over with Aditi, which Aditi rejects. Aditi does show up with her family at Rooh's house for the holi festival, but declines to trade color powder with Rooh. I'm aware of the festival, but don't really know the etiquette. Still, I'd guess declining to trade turns smearing colored powder on each other is an awkward decision and it was clear from their acting that it was indeed an awkward moment for both of them.

As for myself, I came out once on a small scale, realized I wasn't ready, and went back into the closet for several years until I realized I was going to drive myself crazy if I didn't. Aditi has her own aha moment when her family is about to leave, when her mother asks Aditi if Rooh is still a lesbian. Aditi realizes she needs to come out, and takes Rooh back in the most public way possible, with a kiss.

Still, it was abrupt. Much as I was glad to see Aditi and Rooh together, I'm not sure the filmmakers earned it. It probably needed at least one more episode to get there.

At the same time, I have to acknowledge this was probably a low-budget production and if they were going to spend money on anything, I would wish them to spend it on improved sound. Not sure they could do anything about that at this point except to overdub, and that can sound strange.

In a coda, we see Aditi and Rooh sometime later, together, living apart from their families, but still in contact with them, happy.

[drewandareview]

Oz: The Great and the Powerful (2013)

Originally published April 6th, 2013

Fine.  I give my permission for a gritty reboot of The Wizard of Oz to exist.  It seems like an awfully imbecilic thing to do given its iconic magical atmosphere, but the original movie had enough dark moments in it to warrant highlighting them just barely acceptable.

You can tell that the filmmakers wanted to make a point about black people being in Oz because they flaunted it in a way that hinged on offense.  Proving a problem doesn't exist is not assisted by aggressively hammering in the solution.

James Franco was wearing his ham pajamas for this performance.  Every beat from him felt like "acting" instead of a character.  His contrived performance was occasionally distracted from thanks to the talent lack of Zach Braff, in the role of "funny-but-not-funny side character".

The most despicable casting decision was Mila Kunis as the Wicked Witch.  I try not to subscribe to pop culture fame, but the Wicked Witch of the West is supposed to be diabolical.  Why would you get a cutesy girl to play a terrible woman?  It's a rhetorical question because I know exactly why it was done.  Were Mila possessing an intimation of versatility, perhaps I could have avoided the face-covering shame of seeing a classic movie villain ruined.

The movie took a respectable dump on Wicked by completely going against it: instead of people thinking the Wicked Witch of the West is bad when she is really good, people think the Good Witch of the North is bad when she is really good.  I actually like that twist better.  I did not like Wicked.

The movie was a prequel and to its credit, took advantage of this by giving a truly satisfying story behind the wizard's place in Oz, though this satisfaction was only felt at the very end of the movie.  It also included the three witches featured in the familiar 1939 movie, though an inclusion of the Good Witch of the South would have been nice.

This movie decided to show the Wicked Witch of the West's transformation into being wicked, showing her first as a good, nice character.  What drives her to a life of evil?  She thinks the wizard abandoned her romantically for Glinda.  She has no confirmation of this, but hears it from the Wicked Witch of the East.  Yes, the character considered one of the greatest movie villains by AFI was driven to the dark side by high school gossip.

I had several fits of hysterical, painful laughter during this movie that made me question my own sanity, but the movie did manage to have one truly, legitimately funny joke, out of Zach Braff of all people.  It did also have a mostly likable character with a little china doll, and I had never before realized how truly terrifying the idea of flying monkeys are until watching this.

While the arc was not completely predictable (and at some points even fresh, being a tie-in kind of movie), every scene itself was wholly predictable.  Suspense was so pointless that it was almost cute, but remained retarding.

In the 1939 movie, it made sense to have a contrast between black-and-white and color.  The former represented the real world and the latter the dream world.  But this prequel follows the Wizard, who was a figment of Dorothy's imagination.  So technically, the entire movie should be in color.  But it too began in black-and-white and then transferred to color.  While the black-and-white parts did take place out of Oz, it was too linearly strange for me to give a pass to.

Seeing Glinda reduced from the 1939 near-angelic representation of chaste and morality to a 2013 kissing prize for the wizard effectively whisked this movie out of whatever good graces I held it in. The movie had my permission to exist, but it did not have my permission to be bad.  Oz: The Lame and the Awful.

[c-optimistic]

for your happy prompts ask, perhaps kara is a documentary film maker who follows ceo lena around for a doc and ends up falling in love with her by learning a bunch of little things she finds out during filming? also p.s. i absolutely adore your writing even when it tugs at the heartstrings. thank you for writing what you do! it makes my day everytime i see an update or get an email

She wasn’t allowed to see Lena Luthor until she’d signed so many papers that, if stacked together, would be taller than she was. She wasn’t even allowed to touch her camera around Lena Luthor until the woman herself, CEO extraordinaire, had personally vetted Kara out.

“You know,” Kara said as casually as she could, finding herself nervously adjusting her glasses when Lena’s cold gaze fell on her, “I usually have a whole team with me when I do this.”

“And I agreed to this on the condition that only one nosy filmmaker follows me around, not a whole team.” Lena’s reply was like everything else Kara had learned about the CEO thus far: she was blunt, a little harsh, tone and eyes cold and emotionless. She gave nothing away, not in her walk, in her mannerisms, in the ridiculously healthy food she ate, in the way she spoke to her employees or board members. She was cool, detached, wickedly smart, and utterly composed. “And I must approve the final result,” she added, gesturing to the mountain of paperwork Kara signed.

(Kara sighed internally, a tiny part of her sure Lena was a robot.)

“But it’s everything, right?” Kara clarified. “A total look into your life, no holding back?”

“You may follow me around to your heart’s content,” Lena said, leaning back in her desk chair, studying Kara intently.

“May I ask, Ms. Luthor, what made you agree to this, when you’re usually so distrustful of the media?”

Lena gave Kara a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “What made you ask to do this when you know I distrust the media?”

Lena hadn’t answered, so Kara knew she didn’t have to either, but she felt it was important to establish some kind of rapport with the woman she’d be following around for the next few weeks. “I’m of the opinion that things are rarely as simple as they seem from the outside, that’s all.”

“Well,” Lena said, looking pleasantly surprised and offering Kara a grin (a real one, one that touched her eyes and transformed her face), “perhaps that’s why I agreed to you doing this.”

x

“You’re one of Ms. Luthor’s closest friends, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Since before your daughter was born?”

“Yup.”

“So would you say you know her quite well?”

“Sure.”

“Do you plan on answering any of my questions with more than one word?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. So, in one word I suppose, how would you describe Ms. Luthor to a stranger?”

“Flawless.”

x

The rules of her arrangement with Lena were rather simple. For the next several weeks, Lena consented to having Kara around from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep. In return, Kara was not allowed in certain meetings at L-Corp, was not allowed to bring her camera with her at all when Lena went down to R&D, and if Lena asked for her to stop filming at any point, Kara was bound to immediately do so and erase any footage she may have inadvertently captured.

For the first two days of the arrangement, it was actually rather boring. Lena was awake before the crack of dawn, she didn’t acknowledge Kara’s presence as she made coffee and toast (though she did push a cup and a plate towards Kara), and then spent the next fifteen or so hours in her office, sifting through papers, answering phone calls and responding to emails, and forgetting meals. It wasn’t until the third day that Lena’s routine changed slightly.

She received a phone call at breakfast, and whoever it was caused a bright red blush to bloom on her cheeks. Kara zoomed in slightly on Lena’s face as she answered the call. “Now’s not really a good time, Sam,” she began, falling silent at whatever this Sam was saying on the other end. Lena’s eyes flitted over towards Kara, but to her surprise, she didn’t ask for Kara to shut off the camera. “That sounds terrible,” she said, sounding truly apologetic, something about her countenance changing. She seemed softer, more open, calmer than Kara had seen her yet. “And Ruby was so excited too.” Lena fell silent once more, nodding almost as if unaware of it. “I agree with her,” Lena suddenly laughed, still nodding, “it’s not fair at all. But there’s no way I’m not going to visit. Do you want me to bring anything?” Lena laughed again, and Kara wondered if her camera was capturing the change she was witnessing with her own eyes. “As if I could forget Ruby’s chocolate.” A pause. “Give her all my love.” Another pause, a tiny smile on Lena’s lips. “All right, I will. Bye.”  As she hung up, she looked over at Kara, as if daring her to comment, everything about her shuttering at once.

“Who was that?” Kara asked, not really expecting an answer. To her surprise, however, Lena’s eyes flitted to the camera and she let out a soft, resigned sigh.

“That was my CFO, Sam Arias,” she answered, her tone a complete 180 from what she was using on the phone. She studied Kara for a moment and must have read something on her face, because her shoulders deflated and she motioned towards her phone. “Sam is my best friend. Her daughter, Ruby, is my goddaughter. We were supposed to go to the animal shelter today.” Lena smiled softly, almost as if unaware of it. “She’s finally convinced Sam she’s responsible enough for a pet. It’s actually—” Lena stopped suddenly, her eyes shifting to the camera once more, any warmth that had managed to leak out dissipating at once. “In any case, she’s sick. So we’ll have to reschedule.” She waved her hand towards the camera. “Can you turn that off, please?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Kara said quickly, making a show of turning the Camcorder off and setting it aside. “Is something wrong?”

Lena shook her head, leaning against her kitchen counter as she eyed Kara with something like curiosity. “You know, I’ve seen all of your other work,” she said after a moment, frowning at Kara like she was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out.

(Had she? Seen all of Kara’s work? A part of Kara was curious as to how, after all, most of her stuff was tucked away in a closet back in Midvale, waiting to be opened up and viewed during Christmas, when Alex would laugh at the films she’d made in high school about how the boys’ sports teams were unfairly given more attention than the girls’. The others were projects for her degree and one or two failed attempts to get a real production company to take the risk on her.

In fact, if not for Cat Grant’s decision as ‘The Queen of All Media’ to get involved in filmmaking, funding a project from a no-name creator, Kara wasn’t even sure she’d have the film she was making now.)

“Oh,” she said inarticulately, not quite sure how to word what she was really thinking. How rich did you have to be to be able to bribe anyone into giving you anything?

Lena nodded carefully, her face a perfect mask. If not for the way her eyes followed Kara’s every movement, Kara would’ve even thought that Lena was bored. “You’re very fond of certain themes. Hope. Love. Endless optimism in the best of humanity.” She said it like it was a bad thing. And it was suddenly Kara’s turn to lean forward on the opposite end of the counter, feeling her head tilt to the side questioningly.

“Is that what you got from my films?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Lena seemed wary of the question, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Isn’t that what you intended?”

“You know,” Kara said slowly, “I don’t actually believe in all that creator’s intent nonsense. I think we search for parts of ourselves when we consume art. So if that’s what you got from my films, that says more about you than it does about me.”

If anything, this seemed to offend Lena. “So you’d deny having any sort of intent with your work? What about making something with meaning?”

Kara laughed, shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean, and besides, who says art has to mean anything?”

“Of course art means something,” Lena argued, narrowing her eyes at Kara. “What’s the point of doing it if it doesn’t mean anything?”

Kara shrugged easily, giving Lena a small smile. “I disagree. I think art says something. But meaning is up to the people who consume it.” She picked up her camera and pointed it at Lena without turning it on. “Doesn’t matter what I intended to say with my films, you got meaning from it. So I’d say there was a point in making it, don’t you think?”

Lena eyed her for a moment, apparently not liking that Kara wasn’t giving her an answer, wasn’t telling her what she was trying to say with her work. But then, after several long seconds, she relented, letting out a chuckle and shaking her head. “Well, fine,” she said, her smile touching her eyes. “As long as you don’t try to say anything silly like hope, love, or endless optimism in the best of humanity with this film.”

“I’m afraid I can’t change who you are, Ms. Luthor,” Kara said softly, turning her camera on and effectively cutting off any response Lena may have had.

(And when she looks at the footage weeks later, she’ll freeze that frame, breath catching at the look on Lena’s face: the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows.)

x

“Do you spend a lot of time with your godmother?”

“Oh yeah, loads! She’s great.”

“What sort of things do you do with her?”

“I mean, normal stuff? She takes me to get ice cream all the time. The other day, she rented that new horror movie that came out and watched it with me when I stayed over. My mom went nuts when she found out.”

“So you like her?”

“No, of course not. I love Lena. She’s my aunt, you know? She’s family.”

“And if you had the chance, what would you want the world to know about her?”

“That she cares, so much. And that she’s funny and super smart and helps me with homework and after my mom she’s the very best person I know.”

x

The visit to Luthor Children’s Hospital was, as far as Kara was aware, unplanned and in fact gave Jess a great deal of anxiety. For her part, Kara was mostly frustrated and annoyed, wondering if this film was worth it at all. Because Lena Luthor seemed to be asking Kara to turn off the camera more and more, especially when her day deviated at all and she was forced to leave her office.

(Walks in the park, lunches with her goddaughter, a touching moment with the child of one of her employees...all locked away somewhere in Kara’s memory, but destined to remain there instead of on film, where it should be.)

She huffed a little bit as she leaned against the wall, watching Lena walk quickly towards the group of nurses and doctors. She didn’t say anything when Jess joined her, a contemplative look on her face. “She always does this,” Jess told Kara after a long silence, rolling her eyes fondly. “She’ll cancel meetings last minute because she heard one of the kids in the hemoc ward has finished treatment or that they’re out of toys to give to the new patients.”

“Why isn’t there any press if she does this often?” Kara asked, turning to Jess but watching Lena out of the corner of her eye. She was talking to one of the doctors now, looking comically out of place with her designer clothes while surrounded by colorful artwork by kids that littered the walls of the Children’s Hospital.

Jess fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “You’ve met her, right?” she asked rhetorically. “She goes out of her way to hide these visits. She says that she has to keep it under wraps because she wants to keep it about the kids and not her. But I think the truth is she’s just worried people would mistreat the kids and their families for allowing a ‘Luthor’ within ten feet of them.”

“Oh,” Kara said dumbly, a little stunned by the new information, and feeling guilty for her thoughts earlier. “That’s...awful.”

“I’m not telling you this for nothing, you know,” Jess continued, frowning at Kara. “She’s been avoiding lots of her usual charitable work since you’ve been around. The whole point of this was to get everyone else to see the real Lena Luthor, but she’s ruining it by being humble and noble.”

(Kara wanted to groan, roll her eyes, or better yet go over to Lena herself and shake her until she understood what Kara’s job was.

How was she supposed to make a documentary about Lena Luthor if Lena Luthor was so determined to hide herself away from the world?)

“What would you have me do?” she asked, not voicing her frustration, though it seeped into her tone anyway. “We have a deal, and she doesn’t want me to film these things.”

Jess shook her head, looking terribly unimpressed by the answer. “Don’t you have artistic integrity? Would you allow anyone else to boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn’t film?”

Kara looked over at Lena, who was now smiling at a young boy who had ambled up to her with his mother and infusion pump stand in tow. She watched as Lena actually dropped to her knees to talk to the boy, nodding vigorously at whatever he was saying. After a long moment, she turned back to Jess and shook her head. “No,” she said finally. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

And after Jess had given her another significant look before walking off, Kara raised her camera and began to film.

x

“Mr. Spheer, you’re an ex of Lena Luthor’s, right?”

“Ah, I see this documentary is quite personal. Are you sure that Lena is okay with this sort of thing going into her movie?”

“Well, it’s my movie. But she’s free to ask me to take things out.”

“Fascinating. Yes, I am Lena’s ex. I was quite brokenhearted when she broke it off to move to National City.”

“Oh, she broke it off?”

“So curious, Ms. Danvers. Perhaps you’re interested in something beyond a mere film?”

“W-what? No, that’s—please be serious, Mr. Spheer—”

“It’s Jack to you, my dear. What else do you need to know about Lena? Her favorite flowers are plumerias, her favorite food is—”

“—oh that’s really not necessary. If we could just focus on who Lena is as a person. A friend. A former girlfriend?”

“Hmm, yes. Well, just imagine your perfect woman, Ms. Danvers.”

“Oh, um, I—”

“—exactly, you see Lena. That’s an universal experience, I’m afraid. Lena is simply...too good for this world.”

“So you’d say the treatment she gets by the public is unfair?”

“It’s unfair how much people attack pineapple on pizza, Ms. Danvers. The way they speak of Lena without knowing her? That’s a pure travesty.”

x

They were about ten days into filming when Kara saw Lena relax for the first time.

She was using the word ‘relax’ rather loosely, of course. Lena didn’t do what Kara did after a long week—put on a pair of sweatpants, order loads of junk food, and watch so much Netflix that it eventually felt the need to ask her if she was still watching. In fact, Lena’s idea of relaxing was more work. Just, fun work.

She was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat at her desk, mumbling under her breath as she did whatever she was doing. (She hadn’t bothered to explain to Kara, had just sighed and acquiesced to the presence of the camera in her home office.) Perched precariously at the tip of her nose were a thick black pair of glasses, her hair falling to her shoulders in gentle waves.

She looked different. Softer, somehow. Gone was all the trappings of a badass CEO, and all that was left was a clever (and beautiful) young woman, working on the things she loved in her spare time.

Kara zoomed in slightly, focusing on Lena’s face, on the furrow between her brows, her lips twisted in concentration. There was something there, something different, and Kara just wanted to—

“Is that camera heavy?” Lena asked, looking up suddenly, a curious expression on her face. She was good at that, the polite looks, gently asking for more information. Tiny eyebrow raises, nearly imperceptible softening of her eyes, lips quirked the slightest bit, all intended to disarm her quarry, making them drop their guard long enough that they give everything held close to their chest away.

“Not really,” Kara answered, grinning at Lena. This made the other woman blink in surprise, clearly not the response she was looking for, that expression on her face shifting suddenly, becoming more calculating. “I work out,” Kara went on to explain, shrugging easily, careful not to jostle the camera. “Besides, it’s not that heavy, I think about five pounds.”

“What kind of camera do you use?”

“Oh, it’s a Panasonic AG-HVX—” she cut herself off. “It’s not that interesting.” Kara adjusted her glasses and made sure Lena’s face was still in focus. Somehow, this made Lena’s tiny smile reappear. She stood up and circled her desk, and Kara was forced to back away to maintain focus.

“You love filming, don’t you?” Lena asked, and Kara blinked, not quite sure where she was going with this.

“Ms. Luthor, as I’m sure you’re aware, this film is about you.”

If she thought this would in any way cow Lena, she was wrong. Lena just grinned, looking like she’d somehow won something.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” she said with faux casualness, crossing her arms and tapping a finger against her elbow. “Why would you, someone Cat Grant speaks so highly of, be willing to agree to this assignment? Something most people wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.”

Kara frowned, not thinking as she responded. “It wasn’t assigned, Ms. Luthor. I pitched the idea. I wanted to do this.” Lena’s words sank in a moment later. “Wait. Cat Grant spoke highly of me?”

“Why?” Lena asked, no longer smiling.

Kara blinked at the change in tone. “Why what?” she asked, genuinely confused. This was, apparently, the wrong answer, because Lena chose that moment to begin pacing in front of her desk, looking more than a little bothered.

“I don’t get it,” she said as she paced. “I tried to figure it out, looked into you, into your work. I thought maybe you were doing this to build fame, but I’ve seen your work and even without a movie about the last Luthor, I have no doubt you’ll be very popular—”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, thank y—”

“—then I thought maybe you have a vendetta against my family and just want me to look bad,” Lena continued, barreling over Kara’s words and ignoring her entirely, “but the only connection between you and my family is your cousin, Clark Kent, and he’s the journalist who broke the story on my brother, so if anything I should dislike you—”

“That’s not exactly...Clark and I aren’t—”

“—so I really need you to explain it to me. Why did you want to make this film?” She paused her brisk pacing as she asked the question, meeting Kara’s eyes with a fierce look, one Kara was infinitely glad she was capturing on film. Because this, this glint in Lena’s eyes, was why Kara wanted to do this.

“Do you remember the speech you gave when you came to National City?” Kara asked, and judging from the way Lena’s eyebrows rose in response, she was rather thrown by the question. “Because I do. I watched it maybe a few dozen times. All those horrible questions, all the absolute certainty that you were like your brother, and you kept your head up and you promised to prove them all wrong, to make up for what he did.” Kara sighed, shutting off the camera and setting it aside gently. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I was...interested. I wanted to see more.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did I meet your expectations? Disappoint you? What?”

Kara smiled, unable to help it. “Does my opinion on you really matter?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?” Lena shot back, eyes narrowing.

Kara’s smile just widened and she began to gather her things, preparing to leave for the night. Impressively, Lena didn’t question her further, just watched her then followed her to the door, looking rather cross. Pausing briefly to adjust her glasses and the strap of her bag, Kara turned suddenly and met Lena’s eyes. “You exceeded them. My expectations, that is,” Kara added when Lena offered only a quizzical look in response.

For a moment, Lena didn’t react, then that same look from her office—the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows—overtook her expression, and she let out a laugh.

“Well, good then.”

x

“You went to boarding school with Ms. Luthor?”

“I don’t think that’s public knowledge, how do you know that?”

“Um, Ms. Arias told me about you. She mentioned your relationship with Ms. Luthor is unique.”

“Well, Sam would know, wouldn’t she?”

“Ms. Rojas, if you don’t want to speak to me, you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine. Look, Lena and I have been estranged for a while now. I...I did something to break her trust.”

“So would you say that Ms. Luthor is difficult to get along with?”

“No, I’d say that Lena values things like honesty and trust, and—you know that Austen novel? With the man who says that once you lose his good opinion, it’s gone forever?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

“Exactly. Lena is like that.”

“Ms. Luthor is like Mr. Darcy?”

“No, she’s classic. No matter what’s going on, she’ll endure.”

“So...you were the one difficult to get along with?”

“Have you ever thought about taking your work to a whole new level, Kara? How do you feel about virtual reality?”

“Oh, um, I don’t have particular thoughts? But I’d love to know yours about Ms. Luthor. For the film.”

“She won’t believe this, or that I’m saying it coercion free, but Lena is...a visionary. More than that, she’s just a decent person. Which is more than most of us can say, don’t you think?”

x

After their conversation, Lena opened up dramatically.

(Well, dramatically was a stretch, but considering how closed off she’d been before, the difference was rather drastic.)

Kara filmed Lena’s visit to an animal shelter, capturing the way her fingers gently ran over the fur of the dog that immediately trotted over to her, placing its head in her lap. Lena had then explained that she went to shelters often, just to volunteer, as she was unable to adopt for fear of not having time to give the dog the attention it deserved.

Later that week, Lena let Kara stay later than usual, putting on some music as she got to cooking, going as far as to teach Kara the basics of the dish, laughing when Kara admitted that her skill in the kitchen was limited to making sandwiches. At one point she grabbed the camera and set it aside, dragging Kara into the kitchen, giving instructions and lessons as she swayed her hips to the music.

(It was silly, it was lighthearted, it was fun, and Kara couldn’t help it.

She forgot she was there to make a film.)

And as the days and weeks dragged on, when Lena showed off her skills at the piano—apologetically explaining she hadn’t had time to really play in months—or when she told Kara about her very ‘nerdy’ stamp collection or even when Lena seemed to ignore there was a camera between them and she began to talk about her day and her hopes for the weekend, Kara forgot that it was a job. She forgot that she was supposed to be making something, paying attention to more than Lena’s smile or the way her eyes lit up whenever she mentioned work she was particularly passionate about.

Somewhere along the way, Kara cared more about the opportunity to spend time with Lena than she did the film itself.

More worryingly, that realization didn’t even bother her.

x

“Why filmmaking?” Lena asked one morning, pushing coffee and toast towards Kara with a tiny smile. The camera was still in its bag, untouched since Kara had arrived nearly an hour earlier. “Why not journalism like your cousin?”

“My cousin and I,” Kara began awkwardly, adjusting her glasses, “well, our relationship is a little strained, I guess.” She didn’t need the slight tilt of Lena’s head to know that Lena wanted her to keep going, to explain further. She let out a soft chuckle and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Um, so my parents died when I was twelve. And Clark sort of...left me? I went to live with the Danvers instead, and they bought me a camera for my birthday.” Kara grinned at the very memory, still able to feel its weight in her hand, the eyepiece against her eye. “It was one of those old camcorders, do you remember? The ones with the tapes? I drove them nuts, filming literally everything. I don’t think they ever saw my face for the first few months I was with them, it was constantly behind the camera.” She didn’t explain why she wanted to document every moment with her new family, but judging from the way Lena’s eyes softened, she understood anyway. “From there it became serious. I started making films. School projects, etc. Now I’m here.”

“Why documentaries? Why not something like...oh, I don’t know, action movies?” Lena prodded, looking curious, looking interested, looking like the answer mattered.

Kara just shrugged, suddenly not able to look Lena in the eye. “I guess there’s a part of me that wanted to take after Clark.”

x

“How long have you been working for Ms. Luthor?”

“Um, this December will make seven years.”

“As her assistant, you have remarkable access to her. What’s she like?”

“Driven, ambitious, works way too hard. I don’t think she’s ever taken a holiday or even a break...but um, maybe don’t say that in the film.”

“Artistic integrity, remember? She works hard, that’s clear. But what about personally? Her relationship with you and the other employees? What kind of boss is she?”

“She cares a lot. A few years ago, before Lex Luthor, well. You know. Before all that, LuthorCorp was facing serious losses. Mr. Luthor wanted to just get rid of entire departments, but Ms. Luthor said the research was vital, and more than that, the researchers were important. She convinced her brother to keep them on—she won’t admit it, but it was more than being persuasive. She paid for it out of her own pocket.”

“So you’d say she’s charitable?”

“No, she’s passionate. And she fights for the things she believes in. Ms. Luthor likes to say that charity implies pity, and she doesn’t do anything out of pity. She just does what’s right by people.”

“Some would disagree, they’d argue that LuthorCorp, and by extension its new iteration, L-Corp, don’t care about people, but about profits. Do you think that’s a fair assessment of the company you’ve devoted seven years to?”

“Look. I get it, people are suspicious of L-Corp because it used to be LuthorCorp. But it’s not just a name change. When Lena took over, she gutted her company. There’s not a single program left from Mr. Luthor’s time as CEO. L-Corp is all Ms. Luthor.”

“So if L-Corp is Ms. Luthor, who is Ms. Luthor?”

“She’s a woman who’s been hurt all her life, Kara Danvers, and whose only goal is to keep as many people as she can from hurting too. Sometimes I just wish she realized she doesn’t deserve to be hurt anymore either.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I don’t care about your artistic integrity, that last bit does not go in the film.”

x  

One afternoon, when Kara was dangerously close to dozing off on the couch in Lena’s office—camera turned off and set aside, not really needing more footage of Lena working at her desk—Lena suddenly jumped to her feet, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“They’ve done it,” she said, the smile forming on her lips so wide that Kara found herself smiling back.

“Done what?” Kara asked, fairly sure this would lead to Lena’s refrain of ‘that’s company business and I’m afraid you’re not privy to that information’ but instead, Lena looked at her appraisingly, then rolled her eyes.

“If I allow you to bring your camera in R&D, do you swear not to film my ongoing projects?”

“You’re going to let me film in R&D?” Kara said excitedly, jumping to her feet and grabbing her camera.

“Kara, do you swear?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Ms. Luthor. I absolutely swear.”

And the next thing Kara knew, she was filming in the one place she’d been told was off-limits, capturing the lab and Lena talking to her researchers animatedly about the advancement they’d made in gene therapy, not entirely surprised when Lena shoved the scientists towards Kara and urged them to brag about their achievement—while also warning them to be as vague as possible—and then sank into the background, clearly thrilled to have her scientists as the center of attention.  

And later, when Lena decided to actually take a lunch hour as a ‘reward’ for the great strides L-Corp had made, she took Kara along, bought three different appetizers, and smiled her wide smile before she said, “It’s Lena, by the way. Just Lena.”

Mouth still bulging with the three potstickers she’d practically inhaled, Kara couldn’t manage much more than a nod, but later—when she was alone—she tried saying the name aloud, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

x

“Mrs. Luthor—”

“It’s doctor, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Luthor. You adopted Ms. Luthor when she was four, is that correct?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this nonsense. I consented to this interview only to say one thing: Lena was always the more clever of my children, but she’s foolish and soft, and this silly film is yet another example of that.”

“You agreed to meet with me to just say...that. Okay. That’s um. Fine.”

x

As the weeks dragged on, Kara had little reason to continue filming. Her deadline with Cat Grant was fast approaching, and she had more than enough footage. All that really remained was editing, of putting the final pieces together. But she found herself filming anyway.

Every day, she’d make her way to Lena’s apartment, making flimsy excuses about how certain footage was no good, or had been corrupted, and that she needed retakes of Lena doing ordinary things (like reading the paper, cooking dinner, or talking about her day). She knew that Lena could tell her excuses were just that, but mercifully, Lena didn’t seem to want to call her out on it, merely gave soft reminders not to stay up so late every night to edit (the ‘you could just as easily stop wasting your time here and be editing during normal hours’ going unsaid).

(Jess had rolled her eyes when Kara came by L-Corp and Lena mentioned offhandedly that Kara somehow hadn’t gotten a shot of Lena entering her building in all the time she’d shadowed the CEO, and wasn’t that odd?)

But what Kara knew, what made her stretch out these moments as long as she possibly could, was that once the final product popped into existence, once she showed Lena and got her okay to send off to Cat Grant, that was it.

No more Lena.

And that terrified her.

(So she gathered more footage, fruitlessly hoping that the final product would never be ready, dragging her feet at every step.

She edited, studying Lena’s every expression, tried to pinpoint the exact moment she’d started to fall for the not-so-detached CEO extraordinaire, and wished it didn’t all have to come to an end.)

x

Two days after Kara had sent Lena the finished film, she got a curt email from the CEO herself with only three words: come see me.

Jess gave no indication about how her boss was feeling when Kara arrived, merely stared evenly at Kara and gestured with her head for her to just go on in. When Kara tried to ask her, Jess shook her head, pointed at the door to Lena’s office, and made a shooing gesture.

“It’s odd to see you without a camera,” Lena said when Kara sat down across from her, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting.

“It’s odd to be in here without a camera.” Kara took a deep breath. “Did you watch it?” she blurted, unable to keep it in. “What did you think?”

“You’re really fond of certain themes,” Lena said, then she raised her eyebrow. “You also filmed quite a bit when I had asked you not to.”

“Artistic integrity?” Kara tried, and Lena...laughed.

“I don’t know if I agree with the way you portrayed me,” she said slowly as her amusement faded. “You took a lot of liberties.”

“I was very faithful to the subject of the film, Lena.”

“What do you think you were trying to say?” Lena asked, waving off Kara’s comment.

“What meaning did you get from it?”

Lena studied her for a moment, as if she was trying to read Kara’s mind. “I’m not some selfless genius, Kara.”

“Is that what you think the film is saying?” Kara asked her, not rising to the obvious bait. “Like I said, Lena. I was very faithful to the subject of the film.” For a long moment, Lena didn’t respond, and Kara felt the worry she’d managed to push away since sending the film to Lena creep back in. “Does this mean you don’t approve of the film?”

“Hmm?” Lena said, distracted. “No, I’ve already sent it along to Cat Grant, giving my okay. Even though you broke our agreement, I can’t deny the final result was very favorable to me.”

“I wouldn’t have made something that wasn’t completely true,” Kara said, somewhat hotly, most of her irritation bleeding away with the knowledge that Cat Grant was in possession of the final product, that the rest was up to her.

Lena smiled, eyes soft, and she nodded her head almost incredulously. “No, you wouldn’t. I know that.” She cleared her throat, seeming a bit nervous. “But I was thinking. I’ve been missing our talks about your work, and I know you don’t like talking about what you’ve made, but perhaps you’d make an exception for me. Would you be willing to give me a private showing of your film? Give me all the insider secrets? I know your subject quite well, it would be a fun exercise.”

Kara’s heart slammed to a stop, the jump-started at the sight of Lena’s amused eyes, that tiny curve of her lips. “A private showing, huh?” Kara mumbled, feeling a little dazed. “I still won’t tell you what I was trying to say.”

“That’s completely fair.”

“But I suppose I could give you some insight on my thoughts.”

“Only if you wanted.”

“It may have to be more than one session,” Kara said, trying and failing to stop the spread of her smile. “There’s a lot of footage you know.”

“So it’s a date?” Lena asked, and Kara couldn’t help her eager nod.

“It’s definitely a date.”

[canmom]

of last night: Spirits Within is truly the epitome of 2000score, managing to perfectly elicit the feeling of a videogame cutscene compilation on youtube. sometimes that game is an fps on the xbox and sometimes it's the longest journey. there's a point where the black marine, woman marine and steve buscemi marine all die in quick succession.

it was interesting watching it back to back with Final Flight of the Osiris just how far their ability to render skin and cloth, not to mention skill at film direction, improved in the space of a couple of years. it would have been fascinating to see where square pictures would have gone; they live on in squeenix's pre rendered promo video/movie tie-in department, but it would be cool to see those guys get to make a non tie in movie after that experience. I'm sure it would be ridiculous and stilted in all the ways spirits within was, but that's quite endearing.

i went in to the polar express with my expectations on the floor. the opening part, when the train seems relatively menacing and various guises of tom hanks manifest to torment the children, including an elaborate dance about hot chocolate, had at least some fascination thanks to the various bizarre creative decisions to attempt to drag a very short children's book out into a full length movie. once it gets to the north pole it just gets painfully tedious at best. had it been a horror movie, with a sense of reserve about using the usual horror movie markers, and just committed to the hints of elftown as some sort of lurid fascist enclave, it might have been something. idk. pretty much what i expected but it did scratch the historical interest angle i guess. i really do hate christmas movies.

tintin was sort of interesting as an illustration of how much all the rules about making technically 'good' art are irrelevant to making something effective. by this point all the kinks in the cg process had been ironed out. the characters, despite the bizarre stylisation, can act convincingly, they're well lit (the lighting is carefully designed to draw focus and layer scenes.), etc. the setpieces are narratively clear and space out their jokes by the book. there are occasional filmmaking flexes like an intricate action sequence that spans one very long take (animation cut), or flashy effects driven transitions where scenes morph from one to another (a desert into an ocean, a character's face and thumb into rocks on a ridge, a character's glasses reflecting a scene into which the camera pulls back) which take care to remind you that spielberg is a big name movie director. the story faithfully ticks off the beats of a tintin comic: head injuries, bumbling thom(p)son antics, chloroform, seaplanes, open topped cars, franco-belgian colonial nostalgia, awkward orientalism (likely less so than hergé's original but still very present in the story structure). the only deviation from tone is tintin having a brief crisis of confidence which haddock talks him out of with a motivational speech, which I'm sure you could find suggested in some kind of screenwriting manual.

and yet the overall effect of it is just... nothing. i do not think I'll remember much of this movie in a week. despite the vast effort and expense, it evinced little more emotion than the same 'huh' when i first heard about it.

something about the film industry produces these director guys with plentiful technical skills and enough name familiarity to get bums in seats, as well as a lot of 'auteur' freedom, but they've run out of interesting things to say with their movies many years ago, and yet because of their reputation they get to do whatever they want pretty much unconstrained. so you get these lavish but weirdly empty, kind of mechanical productions: more elaborate than the movies that made their names but far less impactful. i feel like ridley scott is another example, or indeed the wachowskis (even before reports of the new matrix movie). it's not just the west though - you could say much the same of hayao miyazaki. i don't have much attachment to earlier spielberg honestly, but it definitely feels like whatever people liked about him, it doesn't pertain anymore. who now talks of tintin? i don't know what to take from that - you could say something about bourgeois art (as these guys get rich they get insulated from anything worth expressing in art), or the importance of constraints to creativity, but that's all kind of pat. perhaps instead it's something about the infrastructure of movies on this scale, the very strict design iteration process of vfx houses tending to purse their lips over any interesting individual contribution that takes any sort of risk, and pulling it back to the boring standards of the industry. whatever it is, it's sad to see that 'spark' of personal interest or passion die. I'm dreading when it catches yoko taro lol. perhaps it has already.

i definitely intend to schedule some more compelling stuff for next week to mark the end of the year. possibly some of the super depressing end of my own country's animation - i have had my eye on Plague Dogs for a while, and it might make a 'fun' companion to Pink Flloyd's The Wall. anyway, we'll see. seeing more American animation definitely underlines that concept in sakuga fandom about anime's production process tending to give more room to individual key animators to leave a mark on the final product...

[the-resurrection-3d]

synthergy

Thanks! I hate it. Idk if I'm pro stifling creativity by setting a limit on mpreg births in any kind of work, but this sounds like it's pushing the limit

Hilariously, I just found this article where Garland says the decision to make it mpreg came from Attack on Titan. So justifying genocide is now only the second most problematic thing that series has done. 

The way I read that sequence was about how patriarchy replicates itself -- the forest god-whatever-thing would be about how men justify patriarchy by insisting it’s natural order, and then out comes scared, hurting young men that then turn into older predators, culminating in the resurrection/rebirth of her abusive husband, who hits, gaslights, and threatens to kill himself to try and keep Harper in control. 

I honestly wouldn’t have gone all the way with the birthing imagery though, as the man-creature literally sprouts labia lips. Yes, I’m serious. While the sequence was happening, I was reminded of Alan Dundes’s comments in his essay on flood myths that (cis) men are deeply jealous of (cis) women’s ability to give birth, so I think reflecting that in the sequence in some fashion would’ve been interesting. This would also tie into the comments Priest Chauncey had made earlier about it being Harper’s fault that he wants to fuck her AND her fault that her husband committed suicide. At the end of the sequence, Harper asks her ex what he wants from her and he replies, “Your love.” I think that also could’ve tied in-- men want things from women that they cannot biologically give themselves (sex, children) and resent women for thus threatening their own illusion of independence. This idea then reaches a literal and symbolic climax with James’s confession, because you fucking dipshit, you were already married, you already had her love and then you fucked it up. 

There’s definitely elements of this already in the film, but honestly I don’t think we get enough of Harper as a character nor what her relationship with James was like outside the scenes of abuse to really make this connect in the way I think Garland wanted.

But hey, I’m not a filmmaker.

[skrltwtch]

Starving

Prompt: I work at the butcher shop and we've never spoken, but I recognise you from when you come in to buy fresh meat every month. I don't mind keeping the store open a little past closing since you're running late and seem kind of desperate. This may be weird to mention, but did you know your teeth are getting sharper while we talk? (Source in master list)

Word count: 2,782 words

Genre: Feels, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Someone had the bloody cheek to enter as I was getting ready to close up shop. Our opening hours were indicated on the door. The door. You couldn’t get any clearer than that. When did schools and parents stop teaching their charges not to enter business premises two minutes before closing time?

It was her.

I could make an exception this time, I suppose. She came in often enough and bought more than enough for me to consider her a regular. And she was a lovely person to deal with; I couldn’t say the same for a decent amount of my other regulars, whose business I accepted with gritted teeth.

‘I’m sorry. I know you’re closing soon. Just — please, I’ll take any cuts of meat you have left. I can pay extra for the trouble,’ she said.

Oh, God, what had I done to earn that kind of impression?

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Her pale skin and quivering form said otherwise. ‘I just — I just lost track of time at work. I got here as quickly as I could once I could leave the office. I’m really sorry.’

‘Don’t — it’s okay.’ I packed whatever I had left that would also match the typical volume of her purchases. From the corner of my eye, I saw her pacing up and down the shop, holding herself tightly. Every breath she made reached my ears. She wasn’t fine. Forget small talk then. Just like it wasn’t my business what she did with enough meat to feed a large animal in a day every month, it wasn’t my business why she looked close to falling over.

Maybe it was.

I called her over to the cashier, where approximately four kilogrammes of raw meat awaited her. Despite her stature, she never had any difficulties making it out of the shop with that much in tow. That might not be the case today. She was having a tough time simply getting her wallet out of her bag, and she looked absolutely sickly. Were those … were those tears in her eyes?

I really shouldn’t.

I really should.

‘Hey, are you alright? You don’t look too good,’ I said. Understatement: she appeared to be deteriorating by the second.

‘I’m fine,’ she insisted as she struggled with her wallet this time. I narrowed my eyes at her for a better look at what I thought I saw: her canines extending and swelling into fangs. A cross between a hiccup and a sob squeaked past her throat and into the open.

‘You can come back for payment tomorrow. I can help you with this to your car.’ No, it was now my social responsibility not to let her get behind the wheel. She was barely able to stand. ‘Or I can drop you off at your place … or somewhere nearby if you’re more comfortable with that.’

‘I’m fine,’ she growled.

Literally.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘It’s … okay …?’ Sorry, my attention was hijacked by the sight of claws, honest-to-God claws, fucking splitting her fingernails open.

She left £100 on the counter and grabbed the parcels I made for her. ‘Please keep the change. You’ve been so kind. I can’t — I can’t come back here anymore.’

I wasn’t given a chance to question why she felt that way. Whatever was plaguing her — and scaring me a little, I had to admit — didn’t give her a chance either to make it out the door, as she’d collapsed not far from the counter. I had no idea how I could even let her walk out alone in the state she was in. I rushed to the phone. ‘I’m calling for help,’ I said.

She got to her hands and knees. That was … encouraging. I think. ‘No, please don’t. You need to go.’ Her voice was distorted and rumbly. Her blouse started to tear across her back, revealing a thin, but growing, layer of … hair. Fur, more like. Not so encouraging anymore.

‘I can’t leave you here alone. What is happening to you?’

She buried her face in her hands — or whatever they were becoming as they stretched and popped. Her feet burst out of her shoes, the same changes happening to them. ‘Don’t laugh.’

‘I promise.’ The rapid decline of her health from when she came in, the physical changes wracking her body, and the animalistic noises she was making drained what I was witnessing dry of any humour. I doubted there was any to begin with. I felt almost like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to.

‘Werewolf. I’m a’ — a bark, involuntary, broke up her sentence — ‘werewolf.’

I went to her. Outside, the shades of violet and orange the sky had been awash with were muddling into a dark blue. I ducked my head a little to verify the shape of the moon tonight. None of the passers-by thought to look inside. At this point, I was more worried about someone else becoming privy to her secret than I was about the image of my shop. I didn’t understand how this was happening. It made sense and no sense at the same time.

‘You can stay in the storeroom tonight. You’ll be safe.’

She kept her head down. ‘Your boss? Okay?’ Her speech was strained.

‘I’m the boss of me.’ I knew my decision not to hire extra help would pay off someday. ‘Come on.’

‘Thank you.’

She stood up. I shifted my gaze elsewhere, as tempting as it was to see what a werewolf looked like mid-transformation. I showed her the way to the storeroom. It was due for a cleanup anyway. Her constant twitching and whining next to me didn’t go unnoticed. I took it to mean that she was controlling herself from either changing completely until I was out of her way or hurting me. I could be completely way off base, of course. The only piece of werewolf media I ever consumed was An American Werewolf in London (I was more of a zombie person myself), and … well, from what I’d seen tonight, the filmmakers got the transformation right, I’d say.

She took off what was left of her clothes once she was inside, and her transformation … accelerated. I closed the door to give her privacy — and to drown out the horrific noises. Nothing about the human body should produce what I was hearing. Things went quiet, eventually. I opened the door ever so slightly. ‘I’ll be here all night,’ I said despite not knowing whether she’d know what I was saying, ‘so you won’t be alone.’ I should be safe on this side of the door: the change had stripped her of opposable thumbs. The keyword was ‘should’.

The darkness coupled with her black fur made it impossible for me to see the creature she had become. Did I want to see? I still couldn’t shake off the feeling like I’d been some kind of voyeur; her appearance mattered naught to me, though I’d understand if she thought — she likely did — it would. Then she threw herself against the door, slamming both the actual thing and the door to my maiden glimpse at a real werewolf shut.

She loosed a howl that drove home the point that I had a werewolf in my storeroom. That I had been selling meat to a werewolf for her consumption. That the sweet, cheery petite lady who came in once a month was a werewolf. I wondered, then, if what she was like as a human carried over to her wolf self. If it did, I should be safe, right?

… There it was again: ‘should’.

I went back to what I was doing before what I knew about this world had been violently upended. I thanked God — should I? Did He or did He not exist? — that tomorrow was my day off. I was going to spend it with a good book and minimal to no human contact in the comfort of my living room. Now I was only interested in contemplating my place in the universe. What else was out there? Were any of the people walking past as I went to advertise the shop’s official closure for the day harbouring similar secrets as well?

Baleful whines transcended the door and filled the air. I picked up the parcels she’d dropped. Could she be hungry? It was worth a shot. I unwrapped one parcel. The closer I got to the storeroom, the more charged she got. I never dreamt I’d get to know the extent of damage a werewolf’s claws could do to a door in this lifetime. I threw the slab of meat as deep inside as I could. While she went to examine what it was that I’d left to her mercy, I turned on the lights to benefit us both.

What I got to see at last was ineffective in reeling in my disbelief. Where I’d left a quaking, infirm woman now stood a massive black wolf rending raw meat like paper. Despite looking almost indistinguishable from an ordinary wolf, there was an unsettling quality to her proportions and demeanour that made it hard for me to remember my manners and stop fucking staring. She was … beautifully horrifying and frighteningly stunning all at once. In some sick, twisted way, it made sense that something like her — something like what she’d become — couldn’t have come about naturally.

She turned to look at me, her jaw dripping with blood and her tail … wagging.

I regained control of my senses quickly enough to leave. The slamming of the door failed to mute her whimper at — missing out on her chance at a tasty human? Being alone in the storeroom again? Best I didn’t read too much into it. I fed her the rest of the meat she bought. She refused to eat the last piece, yet she wailed when I left her be.

‘I don’t think I’d taste very good. I’m lean and stringy,’ I said through the crack in the door. ‘And bland, like most English food.’

I didn’t know what to make of the bark that followed my attempt at a witticism.

I felt bad for her. Wolves were social animals, weren’t they? Then again, who’d feel bad for me upon discovering my mutilated body in my shop? No one had attempted to romanticise werewolves like the likes of Anne Rice and the Twilight author had done with vampires, and probably with good reason, as I willed myself to remember how she, a soft-spoken woman an hour ago, devoured almost four kilogrammes of meat in record time. The ending of An American Werewolf in London wasn’t a happy one, for God’s sake! (Maybe I should stop invoking God’s name for now.)

‘Can you understand me?’ I said. ‘Bark … um, bark twice for yes’, so it wouldn’t be a coincidence.

And she did.

Well, fuck me.

I sighed. ‘Are you … are you lonely? Bark twice for yes.’

Silence.

For the longest time, until she barked again, softly, mournfulness plain to hear in the two notes.

✦✧✦✧

My back! G— fuck, my back. How the fuck did I sleep last night?

Right. I slept in a chair outside the storeroom.

I stretched to get rid of the kinks in my back. Yeah, that was it. That was the spot. No, that one. That other one was definitely it. Relief — sweet, glorious relief. How the hell did I even fall asleep in a chair anyway?

‘Hey, you’re awake.’

I turned to the direction of the voice that had no reason to be here at this time of day. Or at all. No one was allowed here but me. Why was I in the shop? Wasn’t today my day off? What happened last night? Why, of all things instead, did I remember not to use God’s name as a synonym for ‘fuck’? I also didn’t remember finding religion last night. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I needed water.

I focused my eyes on the figure in front of me.

It was her.

Oh.

Oh.

‘Yeah, I am now.’ Without a doubt. ‘How are you?’

She declined my offer to have my seat. My legs demanded that I continue standing to get the blood flowing. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. I could believe her this time. She was wearing one of my aprons over the tattered remnants of her clothes. ‘Thank you for … um.’ Her pause made me think her admission last night was the first time she said those words out loud to someone else. ‘Thank you.’

‘It was nothing. You looked … really sick yesterday’: I took a leaf out of her book

She smiled. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to be polite. I know what I am.’ Her words were shaded with the same tint of sadness as when she confided in me about her loneliness.

‘No. You — the wolf — you were …’ Tame? She wasn’t an animal. She was … ‘You didn’t hurt — I’m fine.’ I held up both my hands to show her the absence of any marks, and she could very well see I wasn’t missing any limbs. ‘I’m fine,’ I repeated, ‘except for this sudden bout of scrambled egg for brains, but in my defence (or not), this is how I am a fair bit of the time. Who put me in charge of a meat slicer?’

‘You’re very kind. And cute,’ I thought I heard her say under her breath. ‘Thank you. How can I repay you for last night?’

‘You don’t have to. The meat’s on the house, too.’ Nothing to do with what I thought she said. ‘I’ll return you your £100 on the way out.’

‘No. Please. I could’ve done something bad to you.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘Please. There has to be something I can do for you. I’d feel terrible otherwise.’

I truly wanted nothing from her. I survived a night with a werewolf. That by itself was a fantastic reward. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Well …

‘Were you serious about not coming to my shop anymore?’

‘I … if that’s what you want, I can go elsewhere. If you’re going to tell the other butchers not to sell to me because of what I am, that’s okay, too. I’ll figure something out.’

‘No. G— shit. That’s awful. I’m not —’ Why did she always jump to the worst conclusions about me? ‘No, promise me you’ll come back to my shop. That’s all I ask. And … your name. You’ve been coming here for years, and I don’t even know your name.’ I knew some of my customers’ names — and not necessarily the ones that mattered. Like her. ‘It’s not about the business I get from you, by the way. I don’t care what you are. I don’t know why you are what you are, and I have so many questions, but I do know it’s none of my business. I won’t judge.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you. I promise. I’ll come back. I’ll come back when it’s not the full moon and I didn’t skip lunch because I was too busy with work. And my name’s Eloise.’

‘I’m George.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, George. Now you know why I buy so much meat on one day of every month. You’re the only person who knows what I am.’

‘I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.’

‘Thank you. I know I’ve said that a lot of times already, but I mean each and every one of them.’ Her eyes roved around the space. ‘I should go now. I have work in a couple of hours at best … or I’m late at worst. And you probably need to get ready, too. You should be opening soon … or I’ve made you late. It’s on your door.’

‘I have the day off today. Great timing, huh? Are you sure you’re good to drive?’

‘Yes, I can definitely manage much better today than I would’ve have yesterday. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so hungry …’ She shook her head, expelling a breath signalling disapproval. ‘I’ll return this’ — she yanked at an apron strap — ‘to you tomorrow as well.’

‘Actually … one more thing. So we’re really even.’

‘Yes?’

‘Would you perhaps like to meet for coffee later, please?’ I could only navel-gaze for so long.

She looked taken aback. That and her response, articulated in three softly spoken words — ‘I’d love to’, led me to believe that what she was like as a human did indeed carry over to her wolf self.

[letterboxd]

In Focus: Interstellar.

Inspired by Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar placing high across three notable Letterboxd metrics, Dominic Corry reflects on how the film successfully hung its messaging around the concept of love—and what pandemic responses worldwide could learn from its wholehearted embrace of empathetic science.

“Love isn’t something we invented. It’s observable, it’s powerful. It has to mean something.” —Dr. Amelia Brand (Anne Hathaway)

This story contains spoilers for ‘Interstellar’ (2014).

Although it is insultingly reductionist to both filmmakers, there are many reasons Christopher Nolan is often described as a modern-day Stanley Kubrick. The one most people usually settle on is the notion that both men supposedly make exacting, ambitious films that lack emotion.

It is an incorrect assessment of either director, but it’s beyond amazing that anyone could still accuse Nolan of such a thing after he delivered what is unquestionably his masterwork, the emotional rollercoaster that is 2014’s Interstellar.

In the epic sci-fi adventure drama, Nolan managed to pull off something that many filmmakers have attempted and few have achieved. He told a story of boundless sci-fi scope, and had it be all about love in the end. It sounds cheesy to even write it down, but Nolan did it.

That Interstellar is such an overtly cutting-edge genre film that chooses to center itself so brazenly and unapologetically around love, is frankly awesome.

Love informs Interstellar both metaphorically and literally: the expansive scope of the film effectively represents love’s infinite potential, and love itself ends up being the tangible thread that allows far-flung astronaut Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) to communicate with his Earth-bound daughter Murph (played as an adult by Jessica Chastain) from the tesseract (a three-dimensional rendering of a five-dimensional space) after Cooper enters the black hole towards the end of the film.

Matthew McConaughey as Joseph ‘Coop’ Cooper, Mackenzie Foy as Murph, and Timothée Chalamet as Tom.

In transmitting (via morse code) what the robot TARS has observed from inside the black hole, Cooper provides Murph with the data to solve the gravity problem required to uplift Earth’s population from its depleted home planet. Humanity is saved. Love wins again. Hard sci-fi goes soft. Christopher Nolan’s genius is confirmed, and any notions of emotionlessness are emphatically washed away.

This earnest centering of love in Interstellar is key to the film’s universal appeal, and undoubtedly plays a large role in why it features so prominently in three significant Letterboxd lists determined by pronoun: Interstellar is the only film that appears in all three top tens of “most fans on Letterboxd” when considering members who use the pronoun he/him, she/her and xe/ze. (“Most fans” refers to Letterboxd members who have selected the film as one of the four favorites on their profile.)

To get a bit reductionist myself, sci-fi adventure—in cinema, at least—has traditionally been a masculine-leaning genre, but Interstellar’s placement across these three lists points to it having superseded that traditional leaning, hopefully for the better.

Yet the film reliably still provokes reactions like this delightful tweet:

few movies make me as mad as Interstellar. who the fuck makes 3/4 of an excellent hard sci-fi movie backed up by actual science and then abruptly turns it into soft sci-fi about how the power of love and time traveling bookshelves can save us in the final 1/4? damn you, Nolan

— the thicc husband & father (@lukeisamazing)

February 13, 2021

Although this tweet is somewhat indicative of how many men (and women, for that matter) respond to the film, I think it’s pretty clear the writer actually loves Interstellar wholeheartedly, final quarter and all, but perhaps feels inhibited from expressing that love by the expectations of a gendered society that is becoming increasingly outdated. The “damn you, Nolan” is possibly a concession of sorts—he’s damning how Nolan really made him feel the love at the end. It’s okay, @lukeisamazing, you don’t have to say it out loud.

Conversely, it can be put like this:

“The emotion of Interstellar is three-fold: Nolan’s script, co-written with his brother as with all his best stuff, masters not only notions of black holes, wormholes, quantum data and telemetry, but it also makes a case for love as the one thing—feeling, fact, movement, message—that can mean more and do more than anyone in our current time, on our existing planet, can comprehend.”

The writer of this stirring summation, our own Ella Kemp, is paraphrasing a critical section of the film, when Nolan goes full literal on the concept of love and has Cooper and Dr Amelia Brand (Anne Hathaway) debate its very nature, quoted in part at the top of this story. It comes when the pair are trying to decide which potentially humanity-saving planet to use their dwindling fuel reserves to travel to. Brand is advocating for the planet where a man she loves might be waiting for her, instead of the planet that has ostensibly better circumstances for life.

Brand: “Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that even if we can’t understand it.”

“Love has meaning, yes,” responds Cooper, heretofore the film’s most outwardly love-centric character, exhibiting a stoic longing for his dead wife, while also abandoning his ten-year-old daughter on Earth for a space adventure (albeit one designed to save humanity) than has now inadvertently taken decades. “Social utility. Social bonding. Child rearing.” Ouch.

McConaughey with Anne Hathaway as Dr. Amelia Brand.

Brand: “You love people who have died. Where’s the social utility in that? Maybe it means something more. Something we don’t yet understand. Some evidence, some artefact of a higher dimension that we can’t consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to someone I haven’t seen in a decade who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that even if we can’t understand it yet.” Amen.

Cooper remains unconvinced by Brand’s rationale, but this dispassionate display presages him going on to realize the true (literal) power of love (and his poor, science-only decision-making—thanks Matt Damon) when it provides him the aforementioned channel of communication with Murph in the tesseract. Nolan has a female character make the most eloquent vocal argument for love, but it’s the male character who has to learn it through experience.

So while Interstellar does initially conform to some prevailing cultural ideas about love and how it supposedly relates to gender, it ultimately advocates for a greater appreciation of the concept that moves beyond such binary notions. That is reflected in how important the film is to Letterboxd members who self-identify as he/him, she/her and xe/ze. We all love this movie. Emphasis on love.

Brand’s speech—not to mention the film as a whole—also can’t help but inform the current global situation. Interstellar argues for a greater devotion to both science and love, in harmony; such devotion might have mitigated the devastating effects of the coronavirus pandemic where both concepts were drastically undervalued by many of those in charge of the response.

Jessica Chastain and Casey Affleck as the grown-up Cooper siblings.

Despite the reactions cited above, responses to Interstellar aren’t always split down gender lines. We’re all allowed to feel whatever we like about it, and substantial variety comes across in the many, many reviews for the film.

Zaidius says Interstellar is so good that, “after watching [it], you will want to downgrade all of the ratings you have ever given on Letterboxd.”

On the other hand, Singlewhitefemalien takes issue with Dr. Brand’s aforementioned love-based decision-making in her two-star review: “She wants to fuckin’ go to Planet Whatever to chase after a dude she banged ten years ago because women are guided by their emotions and love is all you need.” A perhaps fair assessment of the role Nolan chose his sole female astronaut to play in the film?

Sam offers food for thought when he writes “First, you love Interstellar; then you understand Interstellar.”

Letterboxd stalwart Lucy boils it down effectively in one of her multiple five-star reviews of the film: “I needed a really good cry.” It’s hard to say whether Vince is agreeing or disagreeing with Lucy in his review: “Fuck you Matthew McConaughey for making me cry.” The catharsis this movie provides for dudes becomes clearer the deeper you venture into our Interstellar reviews (and I ventured deep): “How dare this fucking movie make me cry… twice,” writes John. Let it out, John.

Then there’s Rudi’s take: “I sobbed like an animal while watching this but I’m not exactly sure what animal it was like. Like a pig? Like a whale? I don’t know but I do know that I cried a whole fucking lot.”

Emotionless? With all this crying?

Christopher Nolan inspires more debate than any other filmmaker of the modern age (when we’re not getting unnecessarily riled up about something Marty has said, that is) and while Nolan has the passionate devotion of millions of viewers, I’d argue he still doesn’t quite get his due. Especially when it comes to Interstellar.

By so successfully using love as both a metaphorical vessel and a palpable plot point in a sci-fi adventure film, he built on notable antecedents like James Cameron’s The Abyss and Robert Zemeckis’ Contact, two (great) films with similar aspirations that didn’t stick the landing as well as Interstellar does. In Contact, McConaughey engages in a similar debate about love to the one quoted above, but notably takes the opposing side.

Steven Spielberg (who at one point was going to direct an earlier iteration of Interstellar) did a pretty good job of showing love as the most powerful force in the universe with E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, but there hasn’t been a huge amount of room for such notions in the genre since then.

Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, Interstellar’s most obvious forebear, is often accused of being the director’s most brazenly emotionless film. And while that’s perhaps a bit more understandable than some of the brickbats hurled Nolan’s way, there’s more emotion in the character of Hal 9000 than in many major directors’ entire oeuvre. It’s also, in part due to Hal’s place in the examination of queer consciousness in the sci-fi realm, the film currently in the number one spot on the xe/ze list.

Two films that notably exist in Interstellar’s wake are Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival, which expands upon Interstellar’s creative use of time-bending (and like Contact, features a female protagonist) and James Gray’s Ad Astra, which tackles the perils of traditional masculinity with more directness.

Interstellar doesn’t solve the sci-fi genre’s cumbersome relationship with masculinity and gender, but it makes significant strides in breaking down the existing paradigms, if only from all the GIFs of McConaughey crying it has spawned. Its appeal across the gender spectrum is an interesting and encouraging sign of the universality of its themes. And the power of love.

Fans out of touch with their feelings may complain about the role love plays in the film, but that says more about them than it does the film. Love wins. Also: TARS. How could anyone not love TARS?

TARS and Christopher Nolan.

Related content

Men/Boys Crying: a master list

“I Ugly-Cried Like Matthew McConaughey in Interstellar”: Amanda’s list

“I Liked Interstellar”: Sar’s list of what to watch afterwards

Follow Dominic on Letterboxd

[melancholicumsomnia]

[FIC] A Little Miracle In The Volume Part 6

A/N: Here’s Part 6 of my fic contribution to PEDRO PASCAL APPRECIATION WEEK 2021 of @pedrohub​! The #ppaw2021 theme of Day 6 is Pedro + Color, and of course the color is BROWN.

To @pedrocentric​, here’s the next part! To those few folks who have been following this fic, my humble thanks to you all! Last part will go up tomorrow!

PREVIOUS PARTS

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

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

A Little Miracle In The Volume

By

Rory

SOURCE: Audra Faye on Pinterest

Part Six

There was something about a battle scene – the potential for carnage and mayhem – that could draw out the bloodthirstiness in a man, even if it was a make believe one. 

That particular thought crossed Bill Burr’s mind as he watched crew members bustling with excitement as they set up the MBS Media Campus backlot for the filming of the climactic confrontation between Mando and his comrades against Moff Gideon and his Stormtroopers on Nevarro.

After what he could only dub as the “Ceremonial Turnover of the 501st Legion” by Deb Chow to Taika Waititi, Bill gaped with some trepidation as a seemingly demented Taika jumped about and cackled in glee, “I’ve got my own Stormtroopers! Oooh, so many things I can do with them!” Noticing the comedian standing near one of the small buildings, Taika waved to him. “Hey, Bill! Nice to see ya! Care to join my band of merry Stormtroopers?”

SOURCE: REDDIT

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Bill called back. “I just got done with a meeting with Rick about our episode. I’ll be getting my share of action soon, I guess. But thanks for asking, by the way.”

“Your loss, my friend,” Taika exclaimed as he hurried off to direct the men and women of the 501st Legion, who judging from their delighted faces never imagined that they’d actually be on set filming a Star Wars show.

The only person who didn’t seem too happy about the goings-on was the helmeted figure sitting in the cool shadows of a narrow alley. For some reason, Bill found himself gravitating toward that lonely figure.

“Hi, there! I’m Bill,” he introduced himself, reaching out his hand. “You must be Pedro.”

Pedro removed his helmet then, revealing the most expressive brown eyes that Bill had ever seen in his life. Judging from the glimmer in those doe-like orbs, he must’ve been thinking of something sad. Nevertheless, Pedro gave the comedian a nice smile and greeted, “Hi! It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’ll be playing Migs Mayfeld, right? How do you feel about being in a Star Wars TV show?” He asked the last with a teasing tone in his voice. 

“Frankly, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Bill declared, a bit embarrassed. “I must be nuts to let Jon rope me into this.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fun. It’s just too bad that I won’t be around to do your episode with you. I’ll be going back to England to finish shooting Wonder Woman 1984. Then again, you’re pretty lucky because you won’t get to work with….”

Pedro’s voice trailed off then. 

Feeling left hanging, Bill gently coaxed, “Work with who?”

In answer to his question, puppeteer Jason Matthews approached Jon. “I already fixed the puppet as you have suggested. But Mr. Herzog won’t give him to me. He told me to tell you that you should send someone to inform him when you’re ready to start shooting.”

“Unbelievable!” Jon groaned. “How can we set up and rehearse when he’s keeping the Child in custody? Never mind. Tell Taika that we’ll focus on filming the skirmish for today. Depending upon how the action goes, we can figure out how we can CGI in IG-11 and the baby.”

Hearing that exchange, Bill turned to Pedro. “Herzog? They’re not talking about Werner Herzog, are they?”

“They are. Herzog’s playing the Client. He actually finished all of his scenes but he’s still hanging around the set because he developed this crazy fixation over the Child.”

“Having not seen the Child in question, I’d like to know if he’s really so cute that he has tamed a guy like Herzog.”

“Oh, he’s not just cute,” Pedro said with undisguised fondness. “There’s something magical about him. You’d understand once you see him.” He then sighed. “It’s just too sad that I didn’t get enough time with the baby off-screen. Werner just won’t let the kid out of his sight and, for some reason, he doesn’t like me.”

Bill straightened up with arms akimbo. His Boston accent grew thicker on his tongue as he declared in outrage, “That ain’t right! That baby should be with you, not him! He’s playing the bad guy!”

“You should try telling him that. A lot of people have tried talking to him, but he’s just too pigheaded.”

Bill snorted in strong disapproval. “Hmph! Looks like the time for talking is done. What we need is action.”

“Bill, it’s okay. I’ve already accepted it. After all, there is going to be a Season 2. I didn’t make any commitments, so I’ll get to spend more time with the Child then.”

“It still ain’t right that you’re not bonding with the kid as you should.” Bill made his decision in an instant. “That’s it! I’m goin’!”

“Going where?” Pedro asked in growing alarm.

“Where else? I’m gonna get back the kid.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

“Now, just sit there, little one, while I get some milk and cookies for you. Maybe a pair of headphones so you won’t get startled by all the explosions.”

As Werner went into the kitchen, the head of a sneaky figure slowly rose to peek through the trailer window. 

Bill saw the Child at once, sitting at the small dining table. “What the fuck? Is that Baby Yoda?”

At his muffled exclamation, Grogu slowly turned to him. The Child gave him a broad grin and waved his little hand.

“Aww! Ain’t ya a cutie!” It never even occurred to the comedian to ponder why the puppet moved by itself.

Carefully, Bill pushed the trailer door open and tiptoed inside. Picking up the baby, he whispered, “Come on, kid! I’m bringing you back to your Daddy.”

In reply, Grogu made happy cooing noises. 

“You like that, huh? Let’s go now.”

“Who are you?”

Bill felt his blood run icy cold at that angry voice. His head slowly moving to the left, he found himself gaping at Werner, now red in the face and carrying a glass of milk and a plate full of cookies.

“I…uh…” the comedian stammered, unsure of what to say. In the end, both he and the Child raised a hand and waved to the German filmmaker. “Bye!”

Bill darted out of the trailer before Werner could stop him. As he dashed off, he heard the German director shout, “Baby snatcher! Somebody stop him!”

Bill thought he was going to get away with the baby. Surely, an old man like Werner Herzog wouldn’t run after him. However, as he turned at the corner and onto the street leading to the backlot, he saw Werner giving chase. To make matters worse, he saw the old man grab an enormous gaffi stick from one of the props men.

“Give that baby back or I’ll kill you!”

“OH SHIT!!!” Bill exclaimed, realizing that his very life was now in jeopardy. 

Unknown to the comedian, as he rushed into the backlot, the shooting of the Nevarro skirmish scene had already commenced. There was a loud pop as a Stormtrooper shot a blaster right at him.

“Hey!” he yelled, cradling the Child protectively. “I gotta kid here!”

Rather than calling “Cut!”, from his director’s chair, Taika called out, “Hey, Bill! Fire back, man! You’re being attacked by my Stormtroopers!”

“WHAT?”

Taika made shooting gestures with both hands. “Pew pew!”

Rolling his eyes, Bill did as he was told, running straight down the center of the backlot while “Pew pew-ing” every extra that got into his path. At one point, there was an explosion at his left, so that he dodged to the side. Werner was relentless though. He followed the comedian in small, but swift strides, waving the gaffi stick menacingly in the air. Through it all, the Child crooked under Bill’s arm laughed and squealed.

At that moment, Pedro took his cue to step outside of the building to confront Moff Gideon’s troops. Great was his shock when he saw Bill hurrying toward him, baby in tow, and with a rampaging German director behind him. 

Bill even raised the baby high up in the air and cried, “I got the kid!”

In his fright to get away from Werner, Bill didn’t notice the large rock sticking out of the dirt.  Suddenly,  he tripped on the rock and the Child flew out of his hands. Grogu spread out his little arms and screamed, “Wheeeeeeee!”

Gasping, Pedro leaped up high, his arms stretched out in front of him. That sudden movement caused the helmet to slip from his head. As his body started to fall, he caught the Child easily and hugged him protectively as they hit the ground. 

“Are you okay, Grogu?” Pedro asked the Child worriedly, but the baby only laughed and flapped his arms like a bird, indicating that he wanted more. 

Bill stared at Pedro and Grogu. Dazed as he was, he couldn’t help blurting out, “You two really look like father and son. You have the same pretty brown eyes and…”

Whatever else he was going to say, the comedian never got to finish because a dark shadow loomed over him.

“Evil baby snatcher!” A breathless but visibly tear-filled Werner rapped him on the head with the stick.

“Owwww!” Bill grabbed his head, feeling the growing lump.

Seeing Pedro staring at him, it was Werner’s turn to be flustered. There was no mistaking the tears that fell from his eyes as he stammered, “I’m sorry. I left the Child for just a minute to get snacks for him, but…this baby snatcher…”

Pedro nodded. As Bill looked on, he gaped as the actor entrusted the baby back to the crying director. “Please keep an eye on him, Werner. Okay?”

Werner hugged the struggling baby in his arms. “I will. I promise I will. And I’m so sorry.” 

To the German filmmaker’s shock, Grogu pushed his face when Werner tried to kiss him. Whirling toward Pedro, Grogu reached out to him with his little arms, making desperate whining noises. 

At that very moment, Werner’s face turned pale when he saw the group of puppeteers who had joined the onlookers. This time, all the puppeteers were present and accounted for, having come out of the small building where the scene with the puppet was to be filmed. None of them had their controls. And, yet, the baby was wriggling and crying in his embrace. 

By then, Pedro had already put the helmet back on. Walking toward the struggling Child, he caressed Grogu’s little head. 

“Go with your grandpa, Grogu,” Pedro whispered. “It’ll only be for a little while. We’ll be back together to film a scene before you know it.” Raising his helmet a bit, he kissed Grogu in the spot between his eyes. Werner saw the teardrop hanging from Pedro’s jaw.

“Thank you, Pedro,” Werner could only stammer. “I’ll bring him back once you’re ready to shoot.” He then walked off with a crying Grogu in his arms, heading back for his trailer.

As Pedro helped him to his feet, Bill demanded, “Why did you do that for? I thought you wanted the kid?”

“I did, but…seeing how he chased you...” Pedro then confessed, “…I never realized how much Werner cared for the baby. It isn’t right to take the Child away from him like that.”

At that moment, a very happy Taika called out to him, “Great work, Bill! You got the action sequence I wanted for IG-11 just right. All I have to do is edit you out and I can CGI in the robot with the kid.”

Meanwhile, the members of the 501st Legion were all abuzz at seeing the Child for the first time. An exasperated Jon had the unit directors hand out an additional page of the non-disclosure agreement for them to sign.

When one lady in Stormtrooper armor gushed out, “Oh my God! I just saw a Baby Yoda! I can’t wait to tell my kids!”, Jon ordered Kim Richards, “Have her sign TWO NDAs!”

Hearing Jon’s order, Bill and Pedro laughed. When their laughter subsided, the comedian smiled warmly. “You’re a real nice guy, Pedro. I just hope I could get to work with you and the kid someday, although it doesn’t seem likely after this.”

“Who knows?” Pedro said reassuringly. “Maybe we will still have a need for a sharpshooter like Mayfeld in Season 2.”

“Maybe…” Bill trained his gaze toward Jon who was gathering signed papers. “Hey, Jon! If ever you want me back to work for ya, make sure this guy,” he then pointed to Pedro, “doesn’t have a helmet on.” Grinning at his fellow actor, he said, “I’m gonna call him ‘Brown Eyes’.”

Pedro’s lips curled up in a wry pout. “Next time, please don’t drop the baby!”

Bill crossed his heart and raised his right hand while cupping the lump on his head with his left. “I swear that I will never drop the baby ever again!”

TO BE CONCLUDED

[glenngaylord]

Glenn Gaylord’s Capsules From The Bunker – Summer 2021 Lockdown Style

Like many of you, I’ve lost all concept of space and time during this lockdown era. I’d watch movie after movie, but somehow forget to write about them. I’d consume films for sustenance, but then I’d move on to the next task of cleaning a room, doing a crossword puzzle, or staring at my dog for hours on end. Thank goodness I have a few friends to have breakfast with every now and then, or else I’d have assumed I had been transported to a cabin in Montana. “Am I a film critic or a hermit?” I’d ask myself daily…that is, if I even understand what days are anymore. All of this is to say that I have a lot of catching up to do now that we’ve taken a baby step or two towards returning to some sense of normalcy. Wait a minute. What’s that? Highly transmissible variants? Back into the cave I go. While I still can, I’ve managed to blurt out a few capsule reviews of some films worth mentioning.

In Between Gays – Film Review: Summer Of 85 ★★★★

Prolific French filmmaker, François Ozon, has made a career out of finding dark crevices in the most unexpected of places. Here, with Summer Of 85, he tweaks this New Wave era gay romance just enough to upend our expectations. In pure Talented Mr. Ripley meets Call Me By Your Name meets Luca fashion, Ozon spins what could have been that sun-dappled, seaside summer that changed everything into a love that perhaps never was, zeroing in instead on a young man’s obsession for something unobtainable. Beautifully shot and acted, Ozon takes the story to more provocative places than you’d initially expect while still maintaining the boppy fizz of a great Cure song. Despite the mish mash of tones, the film has a pulse all of its own. It’ll make you swoon, pull the rug out from under you, and then make you wonder how he managed to quietly get a little twisted.

Summer Of 85 currently in select theaters, see official website for details. Released on DVD and BluRay August 17th.

Truffle In Mind – Film Review: Pig ★★★★

Writer-director Michael Sarnoski makes an auspicious feature debut with the story of a man searching for his stolen truffle-hunting pig. Caked in dirt, blood and looking not so much like a homeless man but as a person who died inside a thousand times over, Nicholas Cage gives one of his best performances ever as a man who seeks the truth at all costs. He asks his only connection to the outside world, Amir, played wonderfully by Alex Wolff, to drive him through Portland’s dark underbelly to retrieve his pet companion.

Although the film takes us to a rather unbelievable “Fight Club” moment, it generally holds its mood with credibility. It’s a great calling card, not only for Sarnoski, but also for his talented cinematographer Patrick Scola, who brings a painterly quality to every single image. The film finds beauty in a bite of food, a breath of air, or simply the compassion between two main characters who have seemingly little in common. It’s a shame the trailer elicits laughs when Cage utters lines like, “Who has my pig?” Clearly they want to sell the actor’s neo-gonzo persona, but Cage brings so much depth and seriousness to this project, only raising his voice once. He deserves the highest praise for committing to such an oddly touching, gorgeously quiet story. At risk of sounding Dad-jokey, the only thing that hogs the scenery is his porcine friend.

Pig is in theaters now.

All Is Lost – Film Review: Old ★★

In 1999, M. Night Shyamalan made a great film, The Sixth Sense, and has been chasing that dragon ever since, often to diminishing returns. His films, however, often do well because he has great concepts, a keen eye for visuals and timing, yet things always seem to turn clunky and inane real fast. With Old, he continues down that path by giving us something compelling—a group of people on a beach who age quickly—and ruining it with dialogue seemingly written by an algorithm and rendered unintelligible much of the time, while the terrific cast seem to have no idea how to make Shyamalan’s words sound any better than a high school play. A couple of sequences did make me sit up and take notice, and he uses compositions and offscreen space well, but overall, Old plays like a stretched-out episode of Lost, and like that cool but overstuffed series, you’re not gonna get very good explanations as to what transpires. Sure, the big twist works well enough on some level, but it doesn’t save you from the discomfort of watching good actors flatline in more ways than one.

Old is currently in theaters nationally.

Hi Fidel-ity – Film Review: Revolution Rent ★★★1/2

Shot in 2014, Andy Señor Jr., who played Angel on Broadway along with a host of other credits, staged the classic musical Rent in Havana during a thaw in our relations with the Communist regime. He did so against the wishes of his Cuban family, who suffered under Castro and insisted his production would merely serve as a propaganda tool for the government. He plows ahead instead, capturing the months long process in a rather artless home movie style. The aesthetics don’t carry any weight here when you have such a compelling subject matter. Witnessing his actors struggling with their performances while also living in harsh conditions adds new layers to the late Jonathan Larson’s story of squatters in the age of AIDS.

With a limited talent pool, one of whom doesn’t feel comfortable with the gay subject matter and another who lives with HIV himself, Señor finds new connections to Larson’s material as well as an affection for his heritage. What we may have taken for granted here in the US in terms of sexuality and gender expression feels like a whole new experience when seen through a Cuban lens. Señor speaks out against the Castros with quick sequences showing moments of oppression, thus preventing this film from perpetuating the lies of its government. Instead, he gifts the people of this poor, struggling country with a real sense of community and its first burst of musical theater in ages. Sure he’s a privileged westerner who dangles hope in front of people only to return to his cushy life, but he does so with heart and good intentions. You end up loving and rooting for his cast in this moving, sweet documentary.

Revolution Rent is currently streaming on HBO Max.

Do The Hustlers – Film Review: Zola ★★★★

Call me wary when I went to see a movie based on a viral twitter thread and directed by Janicza Brava, whose Sundance Award-winning short, Gregory Go Boom, proved to be not only tone deaf but downright offensive towards people with disabilities. Her new film, Zola, excels however, in ways her prior work has not. Taylour Paige, a standout in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, plays the title character, a stripper who meets Stefani (Riley Keough) one night and is convinced to travel with her down to Florida where they can make a lot of money dancing all weekend. Things, however, do not go as planned, with Zola’s story escalating from one insane twist after another. Paige and Keough are outstanding, as are Nicholas Braun and Colman Domingo as their traveling companions. Jason Mitchell, so great in Straight Outta Compton and Mudbound, brings a wild, dangerous energy, something he shares with the film itself. It comes across as The Florida Project meets Hustlers, but with its own surreal, unexpected tone. I laughed out loud often, especially with Paige’s loopy reactions to her surroundings and the giddy, zippy energy on display. Zola chews you up, twerks on your face, and spits you out, exhausted yet anxious to see whatever this talented group of people will do next.

Zola is currently playing in select theaters and available on demand.

Banned On The Run – Film Review: There Is No Evil ★★★★

It’s impossible to review There Is No Evil without giving away its central premise, so I will avoid as much description as possible. Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof has crafted a four-part anthology of sorts around an agonizing moral issue important to people worldwide. At the end of the first part, a stunning cut to an unforgettable visual reveals everything and allows you to watch the rest with informed eyes. Rasoulof seamlessly excels at different genres, from family drama, to action escape, to romance, weaving a tale of such depth and sorrow for its talented cast of characters.

The making of it proves as interesting at the film itself. Banned by the regime from producing feature films for two years and prohibited from traveling outside of Iran, Rasoulof, like any crafty filmmaker, came up with an ingenious plan. He slipped under the radar by calling these four short films, mostly shot in small towns far outside the reach of Tehran, and then had the final product smuggled out of the country. A filmmaker with such talent not only at telling stories, but the with ability to will his vision into existence against all odds, deserves the world’s attention.

There Is No Evil is available on DVD, BluRay and VOD now.

In Space No One Can Hear You Think – Film Review: F9: The Fast Saga ★★★

Considered review-proof, the Fast and the Furious franchise has ruled the box office for the past 20 years, so my calling its latest entry, F9: The Fast Saga, monumentally dumb will have zero influence on anyone’s decision to see it. We all know it’s big and stupid, as do the filmmakers. These films, deliver said stupid with such gusto, that you simply surrender and have a great time nonetheless. Nothing, however, prepared me, for this series to go all Moonraker, sending a car to a place no car has ever gone before. You’ll know it when you see it and probably say, “That’s ludicrous!” and also say, “That’s Ludacris!”

F9: The Fast Saga is currently playing on every screen on Earth and in select theaters throughout the universe.

[theemichelleb]

Malcolm & Marie (Netflix)

I waited in excitement for this movie release from the day Netflix announced it. If you’ve watched Euphoria (Zendaya) and BlacKkKansman (John David Washington) I’m sure you understand what my excitement way. The idea of the movie had a ridiculously strong pull for whatever that reason may be. Could be the black cast, could be the thought of black love being on display, honestly, I’m not a thousand percent sure what caused the excitement outside of the cast as simplistic as it was.

WARNING! Spoilers are in the following, if you want to wait to read after you watch, stop here.

Well, to start, the idea that this movie was based on an actual situation that occurred in Director Sam Levinson’s life was presented to me, and I decided I wanted to do a little research on that. Because he, a white man, cast 2 black characters to portray this, what I would view as important, milestone in his life. I mean it must be important to make a film about it, right? Well, after my slight research I found an article with him and his wife, Producer - Ashley Levinson, discussing the conception of this movie. Essentially, he posed the idea of this film with a filmmaker that forgets to thank his partner at a premier, and they both found it a funny idea because they were certain this more than likely happened to them at some point in their relationship. His wife’s viewpoint is that these characters both represent him in battle with himself. Interesting thought.

My best friend that mentioned this idea of the movie’s reality based scenario also posed the question about why I thought the decision was made to film the entire piece in black and white. My immediate answer, “because no matter how simple we try to make things, nothing is just black and white. Especially in relationships. No matter how black and white we want the story to be, the truth is the characters are too complex.” Not to mention a simple film wouldn’t hold watcher’s eyes for more than 5 minutes. But because artistic interpretation is a thing, I did ponder on what it could mean to have this white man tell his story through black actors, and similar to my initial reaction I thought it’s about the complexities of being in a relationship whether black or white. There are so many racial discussions going on in the country right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an attempt to show both black people and white people suffer from similar issues and we are more alike than people like to believe.

There was also the contrast between giving the film an “old school” feel with the credits, the selected music, the black and white filter, etc., and the modern day “ailments” of technology. I did enjoy the simplicity of it, however. I feel it was done in that manner to ensure viewers focused on the issues being presented by the film; differences between men and women, lack of appreciation, what love really is, drugs, success, acknowledgement, narcissism, emotional/mental abuse, and the list can literally go on and on.

As for my thoughts on the movie:

What black household eats boxed Mac and Cheese like that? It was so good to Malcolm that he went back for seconds…

Yes, that had to be the first point even though there were so many anything things to name first, like the fact that Malcolm forgot to thank Marie for a movie that was clearly based on her life, which later reveals he has a type.

I would have felt a way too having people walk up to me after I said it was fine, continuously reminding of the fact that I was publicly forgotten by the man that say’s he loves me.

Taylor…. would have caught the hands a long time ago.

Since he clearly has a type, did he just keep looking for women to pull “inspiration” from until he realized he found the perfect subject in Marie?

They’re both toxic contributors to their relationship.

There were a lot of below the belt hits in their argument, but in Marie’s defense she said nothing good would come from them discussing the issue at that moment in time. She’s self-aware that they’re toxic, he however seems disconnected from that fact.

The entire issue was truly about Malcolm not thanking her, and it took a 2 hour argument for him to apologize and thank her for things that she had to remind him she’s contributed to his life… it has to be 3am/4am at this point.

What did we do all of this for?

She disappeared TWICE but was still there in the end, and I don’t understand. I would have been happier at that end if she had either left or died unexpectedly, and truthfully if she had just left I’m sure they would have reconciled in some way, so death would have been a better ending in my personal opinion.

I think my biggest issue with this movie is it didn’t have a purpose. I get it was for awareness and acknowledgement of things that do truly arise in relationships, but thinking of the story line and the plot, what exactly was the resolution? I think deep down I already knew there couldn’t be a purpose to the film even before I sat down to watch it, but while watching it was just confirmed that there really was going to be no purpose and/or ending to the movie. By all means shine light on serious issues, but give people a purpose to sit for a hour 46 minutes, without feeling like they just decided to watch an argument without a consolation prize.

The acting was absolutely beautiful, however! I thought Zendaya and Washington Jr. did a great job of embodying their characters and really putting themselves out there in this world of uncertainty. They definitely gave life to their respective parties in the film and drove it home for me. The reason I really wanted to watch the movie essentially ended up being the exact thing I loved most about it; the cast.

I would say check it out if you haven’t already, it can be a little triggering and hard to watch at points but I think it can make a difference in how you interact in your different relationships. Well, it can definitely attempt to, sometimes it takes experience and life to really makes us evaluate how we treat others and stop making detrimental decisions in these relationships that we say we hold dear. Gaslighting is not love; listening to respond is not effective; and you don’t have to take defense to somebody expressing how they feel because both of your feelings are valid.

Welp, let me know what you thought!

Be D.O.P.E!

Movie Release: February 5, 2021 Where I watched: Netflix

[sourthoughts]

~

this is the beginning of my journal/blog, as i’ve been meaning to start journaling as a form of self care, but haven’t been able to start until now. i can’t be bothered to write fast enough to keep up with my thoughts, so typing them is much easier. disclaimer: my use of correct grammar is nearly nonexistent.

i was multitasking in class earlier, and that was the worst fucking decision i made today because it only led to uncontrollable crying. 

why? 

because i simply saw olivia wilde’s instagram post thanking her crew on the set of her upcoming film dont worry darling, specifically thanking the production assistants. for context, im in my undergrad working towards my film degree. i have zero experience in the big world, you know other than helping your friends out on their student films and other stuff. although i like to think i am, im not the most extroverted person. making friends and connections have always seemed easy to me, but lately it’s only gotten worse due to self diagnosed my anxiety and adhd, which has unknowingly gotten worse since high school- but that’s a story for another day.

back to olivia wilde, she made a fucking instagram post and that was what triggered me. her production assistants looked like me. young women with an interest in filmmaking and creating art. yet, the difference is they are actually out there in the real world and im still me. 

this essentially defines my quarter-life crisis and the thoughts that pollute and haunt my mind. what is my future going to look like? did i make a mistake somewhere along the lines? where did i go wrong to feel as low as i do. sometimes i think it’s not fair how i was brought into this world, but then i think about my parents and how grateful i am to be able to experience life and the little things that bring me joy. 

i am a college senior trash- meaning i have no extra-curricular activities, hobbies, or whatever the fuck else. who is gonna want to hire me with what i (in this case, haven’t) built up for myself, thus far? most times, i try to block these thoughts out of my mine because they are seriously damaging. i try to remind myself that i am only 21-- not to mention the pandemic that’s been ongoing for a year now-- and that it’s okay that i havent figured anything out. it’s a competitive industry that relies on networking and making those connections that lasts a lifetime. 

so now, i am trying to piece together my feelings and thoughts while listening to an only sad taylor swift songs playlist.

i want a good future. one where i can support and take care for my parents. one where i can live a happy, healthy life. 

so where do i go from here?

-

-

I dont fucking know

-

-

-

this story doesn’t have an ending because i struggle with my anxiety every day and my word vomit is unreliable to expect coherent sentences. 

[calliecat93]

Star Trek Beyond. Since it looks like a fourth will will forever be stuck in Developmental Hell, this is currently the final part of the Kelvin Timeline. So far, haven’t been a fan. The Timeline has potential, but the character decisions must... fail. So dod Beyond manage to salvage anything?

In my opinion... yes. 100% yes. This film was great and I loved it~!!!

It DOES feel a little too late for me, but not too little. It’s still action heavy, but it’s still very good action. All the pros pf the first two films are still there. Effects, cinematography, acting, diversity in casting, and I failed to mention how all three have fantastic music. All of these continue to be highs, but the lows for me have been their lack of understanding the characters and TOS’ philosophy. This film had a new director and writers, which included Simon Pegg (Scotty) and while IDK how much into ST J.J. Abrams was (or I see conflicting accounts), it’s clear that the filmmakers this time DID understand and care for the original spur e material.

Kirk is FINALLY Kirk. There’s no womanizing. No cockiness, or at least not the same level as last time. He’s got the experience. He’s got the level-head. He’s got the strong will that made him such a great captain in TOS. It was good to place him during the Five Year Mission since that gives justification for his newfound maturity, though it means we don’t get to see it. But still, Kirk is so much more likable and competent. His crisis about his place as captain after going through the same thing over and over is a little out of place, it helps keep him differentiated from TOS Kirk while still honoring that incarnation and showing what was so great about him. They FINALLY got it right. Them also allowing him to reminisce about not getting to know his father also added so,e emotional depth that the first was lacking for his arc. It’s very much correction that may be too late, but is appreciated and finally I can call this man Captain James T. Kirk.

Spock and Bones are together for most of the film, and they’re both great! Spock was the one I was the most fine with and that continues here. Prime Spock’s death of course was sad, but with Nimoy’s passing it was inevitable and best not ignored. They used this to have Spock question his path and wanting to follow his predecessor and his legacy, which both in the films and in RL is VERY understandable. In the end, this isn’t Prime Spock. This Spock is his own being and needs to chart his own course. Which I’m glad that he decided to do in the end. Also t he ‘tracking device joke had me laughing SO hard XD Uhura relationships still unnecessary, but I’ve just accepted it at this point and it didn’t irk me the same way here as before.

Bones, compared to the last two films got it SO much better. He doesn’t really have an arc, but his character is allowed things to so. They pair him with Spock, allowing THAT dynamic to finally shine. While it’s not as emphasized as int he series, it feels like Bones is back in his proper place: the heart to Kirk’s body and Spock’s mind. He’s completely sympathetic to Spock’s loss and is supportive for Kirk, understanding how much his dad’s death and in turn his birthday affects him and being that emotional support that he needs. He is that emotional support that the two need and he is the one who keeps them alive, saving Spock’s life with his medical skill and limited resources. I still wish we had more but he didn’t feel left out and he feels like he freakin’ mattered.

Hell all the main crew felt like they mattered. Scotty got such great material and his friendship with Jaylah was really nice. Which I LOVE Jaylah BYW, a badass character who is smart, competent, and adorable without may unnecessary sexualization. Uhura was also a badass. I mean she ALWAYS has been but she got to kick ass here and was just fantastic. Chekov and Sulu were great as always, and of course it’s only appropriate to mention that this would be Anton Yelchin’s final performance as Chekov due to his passing. It’s sad especially because he was doing so well as the character and had so much ahead of him. But for the work he did in bringing this incarnation of Chekov alive, he did it beautifully and I thank him for it. The whole film felt like an ensemble piece, not just ‘Kirk and Spock and those other guys’ which even TOS was guilty of. I really love these characters and I enjoyed seeing them all be such a fantastic team.

The story is basic, but it didn’t need to be this complex piece about say... Starfleet turning into a military organization. Another major issue with the other two cause GDI just because you CAN do something doesn’t mean you SHOULD. Villain is fine enough for this film, though so far I feel like the films REALLY need to work on improving that part. But I also forgive it because they keep the focus on our heroes. This is a character driven film. The only real complaint is The Triumvirate still feels non-existent, but it IS greatly improved especially since we flesh out Spock and Bones’ dynamic. We now have the pieces and can imagine things for this incarnation and whenever the three were together, it just felt right. The three of them in the transporter room with Bones hating them all so much is PERFECT. It may not have been fully showcased, but they understood it. I don’t doubt that at all. The ending also had me smiling big and felt deserved. It marks that optimism for the future and for whatever awaits in the universe. Just as Star Trek was meant to mean.

So yeah, Beyond was a major improvement. This is what you get when you care less about getting those summer blockbuster box office numbers (IDK when this came out outside the year but still) and care about your characters and plot. What you get with people who care about the property you are rebooting, retaining the spirit but doing something new and more inclined to today’s values. I still like The Wrath of Khan, The Voyage Home, and The Undiscovered Country more and still haven’t seen the TNG films, but this is a good film that deserves to stand along those three. It’s the best reboot film for sure. If we get a fourth film, I truly hope that they keep the same care that went into this one. You don’t need flashy effects and action or plot complexity for a good film, you just need good characters, a good story, and people who care for and know what they are doing. This one honored TOS while being it’s own thing, as any good reboot should, and I respect that greatly.

So for rankings... I’ll give 2009 a 2/5 for good cinema elements, but otherwise an only okay plot and the characterizations/relationship establishments being poor. Into Darkness is a 2.5/5 for being better in the latter case, but still not great and for trying to cash in on elements and developments of the past without putting int he work that made the, great then. Beyond? 4/5. It’s not the best ST film (though again gotta do TNG), but a marked improvement over the other two with characterization, plot, and just felt like something made bu fans for fans. May be too little, too late but I am still happy that it happened a d was so welcomed after how I felt about the other two. The Kelvin Timeline has potential and this showed it, but whether it’ll have the chance to continue it remains to be seen. But the fans have something that they can get creative with. I want it to continue to end on a better note and see these characters more, but if it ends here, it’s not a bad place at all.

[skrltwtch]

Sleep Talk

Prompt: Persons A and B are cuddling on the couch together watching a movie late at night. Person B (who tends to sleep talk) falls asleep, and A doesn’t notice. B begins saying progressively weirder stuff until they finally mutter “I love you.” A internally freaks out and grabs B’s hand, then says, “I love you, too.” Person B wakes up confused and terrified because it was the first time they ever said “I love you” to each other. (Source of prompt in link at bottom of post.)

Word count: 2,026 words

Author's note: Spoilers for Wonder Woman. I also didn't quite follow the prompt to a T.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

‘It’s movie night!’ I said in a sing-song voice upon entering the living room, fresh out of the shower and in my best jammies, a set cut from cat-printed periwinkle blue cloth. George, sadly, wasn’t wearing his matching set. Shame; I’d packed this set with the intention of us spending this iteration of a three-year-old tradition in couple jammies. That’d have been such a sight — and the Instagram story.

‘The best night of the week — which also happens to be Friday night,’ he said, grinning. He patted the space next to him. ‘Saved you a seat. Best one in the house.’

‘Thank you, my darling.’ I put down the bowl of popcorn mixed with funfetti and chocolate, a recipe I nicked off the Internet, and bottle of Coke, and joined him on the couch, its real estate reduced to fit us both as snugly as bugs in a rug by all the pillows he’d added to the living room’s already hefty count. His idea of home improvement made it difficult for me to ever want to leave this couch and live life off of it. Could I put in a request to work from home like this next week? Senior management were strong advocates of ‘flexible arrangements’ and ‘work-life balance’ after all, and none were more deserving of the latter after the week’s events than I.

‘What are you in the mood for?’

‘What are you in the mood for? It’s your turn this week to choose,’ he said.

‘I was being democratic.’

‘For once, you can pretend my opinion doesn’t matter.’

‘“For once”?’

‘Oi.’ He sank deeper into his seat.

The corners of my mouth ached from chortling a little too much at his expense. I almost choked, actually, to which he said under his breath, ‘Karma’, his face gleaming with smug glee. Fair enough.

I reached for the remote and also handed him the popcorn to keep his mouth busy while I picked our poison; I knew, too, that what he’d said about his opinion not mattering this time had to be a bluff. George? Not having an opinion about movies? The next Pope being Buddhist was far likelier. I counted myself fortunate that we had similar tastes.

So, what was I feeling this week? Last week was Ingrid Goes West, which reinforced his decision to stay the fuck away from social media and reinforced my crush on Elizabeth Olsen. It was one of the unspoken rules to not repeat genres to keep things interesting. If there were no such rule, I’d have watched the entirety of Netflix’s sci-fi thrillers, and he its dark comedies, twice over. I navigated to the superhero movies section. I wanted something loud, light, and that wasn’t too long because of the late start.

The cursor found itself on Wonder Woman. Excellent: it was familiar — this would be our second time watching; we had no compunctions about re-watching stuff on movie night, as long as it was within ‘reason’ (whatever that meant — for instance, watching Thor: Ragnarok five times was perfectly acceptable to me) — and didn’t require a tremendous amount of cerebral effort to follow. It was what the doctor ordered for capping off a long, pretty shitty week. I needed the reminder that it was possible, and worthwhile, to find hope in and remain optimistic about such a bleak, ugly world. Besides, what was more cathartic than watching a superheroine, the world’s first, doing her thing in a movie that was, for the most part, also tastefully done? I didn’t want to enter the weekend continuing feeling like shit, so I hit play without further ado.

‘Hey, don’t finish that,’ I said to George, who’d been popping fistfuls of kernels and chocolates into his mouth like there wasn’t a finite supply.

‘You were taking so long to decide.’

‘I’ve decided!’ I gestured at the Warner Bros logo that flashed on-screen.

‘I’m hungry.’ His pout signalled the being of a sulk. ‘We don’t usually start this late …’

I put down the remote and curled up next to him. Our arms made their way onto each other’s bodies: mine across his abdomen, and his over my shoulder. He took my hand and lay a soft kiss on my fingers before setting it back down on his lower stomach, where he preferred it belonged. Fine by me. I burrowed deeper into his side. His scent, fresh and a little sweet from all the candy he’d taken, provided warm solace, as always.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been made to stay late.’

His fingertips skimmed the curve of my jawline. ‘It’s okay. I was kidding. I know your manager’s a prick with no respect for other people’s time,’ he said. A finger landed on my lip; it tasted faintly of vanilla. ‘Now, shh. Movie’s started.’

For something we’d watched before, Wonder Woman continued to hold our attention. Neither of us succumbed to the temptation of checking our phones nor started conversing with each other about our day, whether the Internet would implode if Chris Pine were to ever join the Marvel Cinematic Universe, weekend plans, whatever. None of that was verboten on movie night. Our attention spans weren’t perfect, and we’d never pretend they were; and some movies, like it or not, were better enjoyed as background noise in the comfort of one’s home. Sometimes we could accomplish so much on movie nights.

‘How’d you think I’d look in that?’ George piped up during the famous No Man’s Land sequence.

‘In what?’

‘Her outfit.’

‘That’s something you could consider for next Halloween.’

He grunted.

‘I’d love to see it.’

‘I want cheese. Cheese in bread. Cheese on bread. Pizza?’

‘You can’t be that hungry.’ I patted his stomach. It emitted a loud, watery rumble.

‘’m puckish.’

‘“Peckish”?’

‘That’s what I said.’ His speech had a slurred quality to it.

‘There’s still popcorn left.’

‘Not chicken wings.’ How’d wings come into the picture? ‘Or Sprite.’

‘Gross, Sprite.’

Despite his and his stomach’s grievances, he didn’t take the popcorn or Coke, or get up to order whatever it was that he wanted. I wasn’t about to surrender the position into which I’d worked myself. Likewise, I was genuinely into Wonder Woman (I attributed that to the fatigue I felt toward all things Marvel after Endgame and my excitement for Wonder Woman 1984) to consider taking any interruptions in my stride. His stomach did stop its fussing after a while.

‘Are my Neopets dead? Is there a Neopets Heaven?’

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to. Because he didn’t need to know I was still on Neopets and could therefore tell him with full confidence that no, Neopets wouldn’t starve to death, and no, the concepts of death and Heaven didn’t, and would never, exist on the site because its staff continued to delude themselves about the average age of their current userbase. Look, I put in too much work on my account, which I’d had since the site’s inception, to simply let it rot in the site’s current state of virtual limbo. Actually, maybe I should come clean and reintroduce him to the site … it was getting a little lonely for little ol’ me in Neopia.

‘What do you think happens to Tamagotchi when they die?’

Okay, what the fuck.

I peeled my gaze off of Gal Gadot — a herculean task — and looked up at him. Oh, God. He really was the old man he proclaimed himself to be. I let him sleep. He, too, had had a rough week at work, and I needed him at his best for what we had planned for the weekend … which, for now, was nothing. I was planning for the both of us to work on it when Wonder Woman entered standard blockbuster fare territory! Once again, work had thrown a monkey wrench into the fine-tuned machinery that constituted our countdown to the weekend: sending texts about weekend plans to each other during office hours and bringing them to fruition once our asses found themselves out the door at six o’clock and not a second later. This was called making efficient use of our time at work. Our managers should be so proud.

George’s sleep talking soon eclipsed Wonder Woman in terms of entertainment value. Frankly, Wonder Woman lost its lustre in its third act, where the filmmakers attempted to convince the audience that Remus Lupin and the fearsome Greek god of war were one and the same. That moustache? In what universe —? The nerve of Patty Jenkins, expecting me to extend my suspension of disbelief to such lengths.

Tonight’s highlights included:

‘Fucking parrots, always stealing my hot dogs in the park.’

‘I am not eating that banana without a fork.’

‘Look, that dog is wearing a tea cosy on its head.’ (I really would’ve loved to see this.)

‘Dad’s going to regret not letting mom pursue that degree in apartment science.’

When I couldn’t resist and asked him what apartment science was: ‘You know, when an apartment and science love each other very much …’

‘Government’s come out and made sex on bicycles illegal. That is a goddamn shame.’

‘Pudding’s never hurt anyone. Not physically, not emotionally.’

I was … a little fascinated, honestly. His episodes, as moderate as their occurrences were, tended to consist of brief, simple sentences and max out at four or five. Did I need to be concerned? Or was work taking a heavier toll on him than he’d let on? That was it: our weekend was going to revolve around relaxation. The beach! Massages! Studio Ghibli on Netflix! Spending the entirety of either day in bed was a need, a must; I wouldn’t care to hear otherwise.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you, George.’ I rested my head on his chest and interlaced my fingers with his.

The realisation of what the words that’d left our lips, been said in our voices, and hung in the air above our heads, begging, screaming, to be acknowledged, were drove me to undo what I did and pause the movie. Why did that sound so … natural? Why was I even questioning this? Our relationship — what we had — wasn’t invalid because those words hadn’t been said — until now, where ‘now’ happened to be borne of a sleep talking episode. Love didn’t have an on-off switch. The things we did together, the things we did for each other, the things we did to each other, said volumes louder about what we were than those three words.

Still, it felt fucking magical.

George stirred next to me. ‘Has it ended?’

‘No.’

He snuffled. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Shit. Did you stop because I —’

How was that sentence supposed to have ended? Because he talked in his sleep? Because of what he said? Do you know what you said, and did you mean it? I wanted to ask. His recollection of what he said while unconscious was a crapshoot; at least it wasn’t convenient whenever it might suit him — like now, perhaps. And I did. I meant what I said. Come on, Y/N. Don’t sweep this under the rug. Don’t play it off as a joke. Do it. Ask him. We were adults, whether or not we liked it. I couldn’t have the weekend start on a note like this.

He pressed me closer to him. His lips brushed the top of my head. ‘I’m an idiot for not saying it sooner — or more often, and when I’m awake,’ he said. ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. It sounds divine.’

Heat danced across my cheeks. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Our palms touched. ‘I love you,’ I said softly. ‘I love you, George MacKay.’

I resumed the movie, both better able and more unable to focus on it now. There wasn’t much left to it. Chris Pine had long left the picture, as my interest would’ve, too, notwithstanding what’d transpired.

‘What else did I say?’

‘You wanted to know if your Neopets are dead.’

‘Oh. Well, are they? Can you help me check?’

‘Why are you asking me?’

‘I know you still play.’

[nemesis-mess]

Challenge 1: First one down

A / N: No excuses I know is late but... translating a whole fic is a nightmare, thanks to @lady-indiana​ for the rp and the amazing opportunity to know her character, also thanks to @arin-schreave​ for the interesting interview.

enjoy it!

word count: 4523

The only thing that surrounded me was darkness, the pain in my chest was unbearable, I struggled, screamed and fought desperately trying to get rid of the grip of those hands that pressed on my neck leaving me breathless and ending with any trace of life that was left , I knew that none of my efforts or attempts to get rid of those hands would work, it was clear I just had to ...

wake.

I woke up suddenly, disoriented, airless and scared, in the middle of that huge bed witness of my night torments, I carefully ran my hands down my neck making sure that all that had

Three taps on my door startled me a little even when I already knew what it meant, my door opened and the three beautiful women who worked for the palace entered my room.

"Lady Nemesis are you alright?" Asked the girl with black hair and eyes named Selene, one of my maids.

I looked down at my hands and took a deep breath before I nodded affirmatively at her as a response.

"Lady Nemesis we have to prepare you for today, it's a special occasion" a dreamy sigh came from the lips of Samantha who looked at me with illusion, her eyes radiated joy, I could clearly notice that she was too excited about it, Giselle otherwise just nodded at Samantha's comment.

"It has nothing about special" I said honestly as I got out of bed and walked in the direction of the bathroom to take a shower.

I came out wrapped in a towel and the three girls started working on my makeup, hair and clothes, a whole process that I didn't think was as long or as elaborate, but in the end it was much more complex than I thought, the three of them walked around me applying products on my face, brushing my hair and choosing my wardrobe, but at leats that complicated process gave its results because when I saw myself in the mirror I was undoubtedly surprised.

One of the few things that worried me was that they would try to gradually turn me into a princess, but my maids were right with their decisions, the girl in the reflection was me.

&

I opened the doors of the room wide, I arrived a few minutes after the others selected but it was something that didn't matter, I took me  few seconds to see the room in detail and scan the whole place with my eyes, without a doubt I was beautifully decorated tall windows to let in the bright sunlight, carefully crafted pictures, huge chandeliers, and a whole host of other things that made the dining room look like something out of a movie but the truth is that how the palace looked was my least concern, there were several tables arranged in the room, so I walked with a sure step to the seat that had surely been assigned to me. It didn't cost me much to find it. It was in the middle of the filmmaker girl and the nature girl, little did I knew about the selecteds and little did I wanted to know since I didn't need them to do my job.

The murmur of the voices of the selecteds was silenced at the moment the princess safiya entered the room denoting a certain air of elegance and security, she offered a smile in a polite way while standing in the middle of the room with a clipboard in front with both hands "Good morning. I'm sure you're all ... eager to start seeing as you're meeting my brother shortly, so I'll try to keep this brief." An ironic smile formed on my face when I listened to Safiya, she could not be wrong if she was talking about the other girls, but I was sure that meeting the prince didnt make me eager in any way, assuming how we felt was a big mistake . Safiya continued, lifted the clipboard to scan what was on there "Normally, someone else would be leading these lessons, but I was asked to be a replacement. Let's begin."

I sighed lightly exasperated, aware of what was coming.

Let's start with this little nightmare called etiquette lessons.

Safiya began to read the script she was holding "I hope you all had a restful first night in the palace because now our work begins. Today I will ..."

Bla bla bla I stop paying attention to Safiya's words a few seconds after she had started, everything was so boring and irrelevant, royalty was definitely ridiculous in a undescriptible sense and nobody could deny it, so I would rather concentrate on reading the body language of the selected that surrounded me, although that it was not a very funny action I can assure that it was better than listening to the stupidities of how to behave around people who in the end turned out to be the same as anyone, but the presence of someone new in the room distracted my attention of analyzing work.

Felicity was there with all of us in the room, in front of me was the protagonist of  Arin's "drama", the face that is and was the cover of numerous magazines, that of which whispers were still heard in the hallway, in front of us and looking at us with her brown eyes was the prince's ex-fiancée.

Safiya was probably just as surprised as everyone but began to exchange whispers with Felicity, not giving much importance to the presence of 35 girls around her.

"My sister sent someone to replace her. Lucky for us" she said muttered before looking at her clipboard to continue with the boring lesson.

The only thing that crossed my mind in the middle of the whole lesson was how irrelevant this really was, how it was possible that sitting or eating at the table was much more important than teaching the selecteds something they really needed, the etiquette lessons were the perfect definition of wasting time.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't pay attention to absolutely anything again, the last thing I heard and that for me was the sign that the lessons were already over was the hypocritical "and don't forget I'm here to help you" of felicity, unfortunately it didn't sound very sincere to me or to anyone who had the slightest use of reason.

&

It didn't take long for me to be guided to a nearby room, a beautiful room but in which I could only look at the enormous number of cameras willing to judge and analyze all kinds of interaction between Arin and me, at the end of the day the country had to get a little distracted and what better way to do it than by showing them closely the selection process that was basically a reality show.

After seeing the cameras I out my eyes in the prince, the one I had seen countless times.  When I got close the first thing Arin did was direct his eyes to the name tag that I was wearing and he started to greet me "Good morning, Lady Nemesis, please have a seat" with his right hand he gestured towards the sofa.  

Without hesitation, I sat down and directed my gaze at the guy in front of me "Good morning ... Arin? Prince arin? Your highness?" I answered his greeting politely, but the other words came out of my mouth with a large dose of sarcasm "How do you want me to call you?" I gave him a fake little smile with this last question.

He sat next to me and shifted his body to face me "Whatever makes you most comfortable is fine with me." In that case Arin would be. He pulled at his cuffs which to me was a desperate way of showing that he was relaxed when he was clearly tense "How has your morning been?"

I frowned at his question "My morning ?, Do you really want to know or this is just a protocol you have to follow with all the girls?" I spoke without holding what I thought, his question sounded forced and prepared as if it were predetermined, many people could take it as something common and an act of good education but I noticed instantly that it was not just that. I stopped for a moment and looked him in the eyes filled with an insatiable curiosity "but most interesting how is your morning going?" I rested my head on my right hand waiting for his answer, I was sure that interviewing 35 girls among whom your future wife was probably, was something that should make your morning different and interesting.

Arin looked at me and blinked slightly surprised but a smile formed on her lips, a smile that seemed genuine "My morning is going well, thank you. Did you sleep well?"

A little chill ran through my entire body as I remembered the nightmare I had "No, despite the big room and the amazing beed this place is not as comfortable as it seems" I was partially honest it wasn't just about being uncomfortable in the palace, It was about those nightmares that had been making my nights difficult for a long time. I ran my hands over my dress and looked at it.

"I'm sorry to hear that" no you don't. Arin frowned and looked at the cameras (which I had forgotten about for a moment) before looking at me again "Which province are you from?"

I thought about it for a few seconds, it was almost as if I had been left blank by that easy question "Columbia ..." I replied skeptically.

He simply nodded and continued, "How are you liking Angeles in comparison?".

What kind of questions were those, boring, monotonous and above all, empty, I had noticed at first but now it almost seemed really like Arin had prepared a script. I sighed and a small smile formed at the corner of my lips "Arin ... do you really want to know all this crap?" I looked him in the eyes clearly surprised "are you supposed to meet your wife this way?" I pointed to the cameras that were recording each of our movements, making reference to the fact that it was the emptiest way of meeting what was supposed to be his future wife, I lowered my hand and settled it on my lap, but now it was my eyes that talked and said that I was outraged "believe I'm enjoying this as much as you do"

He shifted uncomfortably "I'm sorry, Lady Nemesis. What do you prefer to talk about?"

I probably just bothered Arin  but I wasn't going to keep quiet about something I didn't feel was right or made me feel even a little uncomfortable, yet he didn't have to bear the blame for it completely "Don't be sorry about anything " I looked at the ceiling as if somehow magically this would help me find the words I was looking for" I want to know about you, I like believe there's something else in there ... a human being "and although the last thing I said sounded a bit rude , I really meant it. I relaxed on the sofa couch, I spread my legs a little and decided to forget about everything they told me in the etiquette lessons they gave us about an hour ago "what makes you you?"

He was really puzzled by my question and frowned more in confusion "You already know the most important things about me. I know hardly anything about you."

He had not understood.

"No, I don't" I wrinkled my nose, now I was the one who was surprised. I was little interested in what the magazines or television said, I knew that everything was exaggerated or lacking of truthfulness but he was not willing to show me much beyond that ... not now. "the same things you know about me are the same things I know about, but I get it I went too deep to be the first time i know you" What was on that sheet of paper in which I applied to the selection said exactly the same real information that I knew about Arin, even less, so in the end he could knew more about me than I did about him. I Looked at my nails as an instinct for evasion and muttered "it's a bad habit" used all my life to find information about people, to read them, to know them was something I had gotten used to.

Arin paused, clearly thinking of what to say "Well, the best way to get to know me is with question ..." yes and no ... he paused again and blurted out the next question "What do you do in your province? "

I put my index fingers in the middle of my hesitating lips, that was the kind of generic question that for many people would be easy to answer, but for me it was the kind of question I preferred to avoid, so I chose to be partially honest again. "mmm just some dirty work" run my hand through my hair carefully so as not to ruin my maids work "what do you do here in angeles?"

He sat up a bit more straight, you could still see from far that he was tense and that the scene of the interview made him feel everything except comfortable "I mostly attend meeting. I don't have time for much else."

"I think this selection came in the perfect moment to spicy your life a bit" flicked my tongue and look around "I'm sure it's time to break that comfort zone a bit" ... and it was true, things happen in a perfect way and at a perfect time and this selection was what Arin without being very aware of it needed in his life, Arin needed a change of this measure in his life.

He nodded at my words "Maybe it did come at a good time." He looked at his watch and then he looked at me, which for me was the clearest sign that the little time we had at our disposal had ended "It's been a pleasure, Lady Nemesis" He stood "I hope you enjoy your stay in the palace. "

I got up from the sofa and went to the door of the room but before I left I turned around and saw Arin standing there with an expression difficult to read "Good luck with ..." I looked around and a big smile formed on my lips "whatever this is".

I turned around and felt his gaze on me, until the door closed behind me and welcomed me back to the wonderful dining room where those finely decorated tables were positioned, with flowers, silverware and full of selecteds that exchanged words between them and filled the room with a soft murmur from which I couldn't escape.

As breakfast was a buffet, I prepared to take the food I wanted, a little bread, fruit, coffee and anything that looked delicious was on my plate, took the seat assigned to me and prepared myself to eat until that something slightly distracted my attention, on my right side filmmaker girl sat where it belonged and when I tried to continue with my breakfast a word came from her lips.

"hi!" She greeted with great enthusiasm a broad smile directed at me.

I turned my head and looked at her curiously because I didn't consider such a sudden approach normal "hi ...?" I took deep breath as a way to relax a little bit as I felt slightly tense "mmmm you are the filmmaker girl, right?"

My words seemed to annoyed or overwhelmed her as her smile narrowed a bit and she looked taken back "Yeah, that's me. You're ... Nemesis ... right?".

"Yeah that's me" I held out my hand to her politely introducing myself "filmmaker girl is not such a nice way to call you, your name is ...?" I looked her straight in the eyes waiting for her answer.

She took my hand without hesitating, not even a second. "I'm Indiana, but you can call me Indie. It's nice to meet you too." Her gaze fell on the other four tables in the room "This is pretty wild, right?".

If i was being able to have the freedom to call her by her  nick name, she also deserved the possibility of calling me by mine "If that's the case you can call me Mess" my gaze followed hers and I took the trouble to see all the girls in the room again "it doesn't impress me, just a bunch of girls desperate to fit in the royalty"  I looked at my nails for a few seconds and then I looked at indie "I guess that doesn't sounds nice, tell me indie what do you want in here? " the curiosity of knowing why  she was there in the palace and in the middle of a selection was something that gave me some curiosity and I wasn't going to deny myself the opportunity to find it out.

A small spark of amusment could be saw in her eyes combining with intrigue for what I said earlier "Well, I guess I came to look for ... love."She shooked her head and her words began to slair faster "I don't know, that probably sounds cheesy. But, really, I want to make a change in this world, for the better. And the way to do that is by being here. I don't ... I've never really had a family or anyone really close to me. So, if love happens along the way ... " I listened carefully to every word that came out of her mouth . Indie shrugged with a laugh that seemed almost like she was trying to soften her words "That would be nice." she squinted her nose and her smile took a playfully touch "And how about you? You aren't impressed by the girls here, so what sets you apart?"

She definitely sounded cheesy, but with her words were honest and I really aprecciate that.

"I have to admit that sounds cheesy" At that time I was the one with the playful smile "but it's a good reason" The following was said in a lower and calm voice "oh ... indie don't take me wrong, is not that I'm not impressed by the girls even though is true, is just that this situation as unusual as it is, it doesn't really impressed me " I fixed my hair and put it on my shoulders with great care" I ' m not different to any of these girls, at the end nothing sets apart of them "I giggled because it was ironically true" look at me, I'm here with a dress trying to fit into the royalty "And finally I cringed resigned shoulders.

"I suppose we are all trying to fit in, huh? It is pretty ... intimidating."

"Mmmm I would not say intimidating, I think is more ... fascinating, is watching the human being adapt itself, we were made for this" I started to play with the fork almost unconsciously and let the little emetal utensil slide through my hand "but if it doesn't bother you let's stop talking about this whole situation tell me more about you" keep talking about the selection the only thing that would cause would be something inside me to shake. I put my head aside and gave way to my next question "what filmmaking provides you that makes you love it that much?"

She widenned her eyes again by the directness of my statement, but still smiling, also she looked slightly impressed by my forwardness "Um, it's not a problem. "Filmmaking ... filmmaking is everything to me. I mean without it, I certainly wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"Let me tell you that that is a really strong statement, I guess it provides you more than what you can express"

Indie nodded when she listened to my statemente and I realized I hit the right spot.

That feeling, that passion that indie felt for filmaking was something that I fully understood but on my scale. For a few seconds I was aware of my actions and stopped my tinkering with the fork, if safiya saw me I would definitely be report and ... some nonsense that would make me uncomfortable and angry in the end would happen "is just the start of this ... thing and I 'm already making mistakes " the stress was noticeable in my voice "please tell me I'm not the only one hating this manners things "

"Trust me, you aren't the only one. The only reason I have any idea about what I'm doing right now is because when I got sponsored to a three, my sponsors forced me to take etiquette lessons. Not nearly as intense as these, but still ... " Indie rolled her eyes, a funny expression but that graphically couldn't describe better how I felt about the manners "they are a pain to learn. And to do. "

when I got sponsored ... were words that stuck in my memory.

"I'm not sorry for what I'm going to say but etiquette lessons are useless, they're just made to please others" I sighed annoyed remembering this morning's lesson, but the fact that I could speak it and say it out loud to someone was as if a weight was taken from me, it was something I needed to say before explote at a bad time "the crown should have more important thing to focuse on it, so I agree they are absolutely a pain to learn and to do "

I flicked my tongue and blurted out another question, I wasn't to be left with the doubt "you were a four?

"Well ... actually I was a six. And then I got sponsored to a three. Now I'm a two."

oh ... wait ... a six?.

"Well ... that's a pretty big change" It didn't bother me showing that I was impressed and I was sure that adjusting to such a change shouldn't be easy for absolutely anyone, including her "I guess it has been a good one, surely you have a good perspective of life ".

She nodded a little "It sure has been an interesting life." The curiosity was more than clear in her voice and in her face "Anyways, how about you? What do you do?".

The question.

Again.

I gave indie a smile full of confidence and it was that my next words were not a lie, what I was going to say was a honest and right "what do I do?" I sighed "I'm sure that's something you don't want to know ... or anyone and if you need some piece of advice is better if you stops asking" my smile took a friendly air at the end.

What I do was not only difficult to explain, it's also private and saying it could get me in trouble at the palace.

She squinted playfully, It wasn't the reaction I expected, I expected ... something different, but I liked her reaction "Oh, now I'm definitely intrigued. After all, a character that doesn't reveal their backstory at first, always has the best one. "

That was definetly a very good way to see it.

"You may be right but at the end we would never know" I raised an eyebrow and what came out was not exactly a question  "first impression about him"

"Well, he seems a little ... hesitant. But, very kind. He was for me, anyway. What about you?"

"Mmmm I don't know, it was interesting ... you know?" I looked at indie because in my head there were a million thoughts and ideas fluttering ithat I needed to organize before continuing to speak "it's like he's trying to hide himself" I took a sip of juice and shrugged "or maybe I I'm overthinking it and is just how he is "

"I kind of got the same vibe. He seemed nervous, I guess. Polite and everything, but it'll be nice to get to know him better. It's hard to know someone after one short conversation."

"He presented himself as how he is for the public, for the cameras, and everyone knows that's just a mask, you're right when you say is hard to know someone after one short conversation but is enough to get a good taste of who is going to be around you" Arin had shown himself to me as he was on TV or in a magazine and deep down I knew there was much more than that. I bit a strawberry and gave myself a chance to enjoy its flavor. "I guess I'm talking too much"

"No! Don't say that! It has been fun talking to you. And anyways, this conversation has been somewhat short, and I already think we should be friends." She smiled but... did she say we should be friends?

"Wow" I looked at her and showed her that her proposal had been impressive for me. I wasn't used to being offered a friendship in such a short time and much less in the middle of what was a competition "friends?". I cleared my throat and looked at her making sure she was serious "Don't get me wrong but you are conscious of what you are saying?"

Her gaze dropped to her hands and she was slightly confused but dispite the confusion and negative impact my words could create she smiled "I mean ... we don't have to be ... if you don't want to. You seem nice though, and you are very intriguing to me." She squitend playfully "Why? Is there a reason we shouldn't? After all, you wouldn't even tell me what you do for a living."

Plus that, having a friendship was having to eventually open with her, let her know a little more about me and if things went well in the end she would end up finding out about my work, something that I supposed a person like her would not like it much.

"I'm not saying that we shouldn't be friends" I said giving her a questioning look "I'm just impressed, nice is not a word with people usually describe me" I raised one of my eyebrows and smirked "there's a lot of reasons but that's up to you "In my consciousness it was clear that I had made the necessary warnings.

"Well then, we should be friends." She nodded reassuringly.

It was clear that she didn't take a minute to think about her answer, but it was better that way, it was better if she let herself go.

"Feeling risky today?" I reached out my hand again but this time representing that we were closing some kind of  deal "I like that".

Indie shaked my hand with a chuckle. She had accepted "I'll admit that you are slightly terrifying, but I don't think you give yourself enough credit. It's refreshing, and you are nice."

"Slightly terrifying, refreshing and nice" I muttered to myself, I laughed and nodded a little, I liked the terms she used, the perception that indie had of me was different and I liked that "you girl are filling me of curiosity, I'm dying to see how this thing goes. " I looked at indie squinting "and I'm referring to everything".

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 38

AO3 link here

The campus is quiet over spring break, and Sam has resolved to force himself to take advantage.

He’s been asked to fill in at the library - they’re on limited hours and he’s not a regular work-study student, but his dad is basically best friends with Dr. Morris over there, and when they’d decided to do a shifting project while the students were away, he hadn’t exactly had other plans to use as an excuse. So, since he’s here, he’s decided that he won’t leave until he’s settled on something.

Leslie at the reference desk gave him a couple of career advice books and he carries them in his arms out onto Keyser Quad. It was cold yesterday and it’s supposed to be cold tomorrow, but today it’s mid-fifties and sunny. He squints a little coming out from the low light of the library, trying not to let himself get distracted already.

He’d looked at other schools, was accepted at some, and figuring in both his parents’ tuition grants, could have gone to even a good private one without much trouble. But he grew up playing under the desk in his dad’s office on the weekends and doing his homework in the hospital cafeteria with his mom in her scrubs, being the only kid in his class interested in college lacrosse. He was excited to come to Hopkins, to make it even more his own, to stay. His parents had been excited for him, and the school was so well-regarded in so many different areas, that no one had really objected to him coming in undecided. But now here he is, coming up on the end of his sophomore and he has yet to declare a major.

He’s a good student and he’s taken classes he’s liked - a basic level astronomy course as a natural science credit, Introduction to Comparative Politics with one of his dad’s colleagues - but nothing he can even come close to imagining doing for the rest of his life.

Sometimes he wishes that someone would just decide for him, but then he realizes how much he hates the idea, and instead wishes he would just feel it, whatever inside push that made his mom decide that medicine was her thing, that makes his friend Wen describe the life of a struggling filmmaker with some kind of odd, headlong relish. But no matter what he tries on for himself, he can’t make anything fit right.

He’s already flipping open the top book as he walks, skimming down the table of contents, and so he doesn’t notice that he’s brought himself over to the one bench on the vastly open quad that’s actually already occupied.

“You look like you’re trying to make a decision.”

When Sam looks up, the older man sitting next to him already has a smile on his face. But when Sam’s eyes meet his, there’s a slice of a second where the smile shifts to something a bit pained, a bit wary, strangely knowing. The next second, Sam wonders if he’s imagined it; it’s just a nice stranger’s smile again.

“Just trying to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life,” Sam tells him, giving a wide smile of his own, the kind that charms professors, parents on his campus tours, all the people at his grandparents’ church. Somehow this guy doesn’t seem to fall for it.

“That is a big decision,” he says, and it’s the calm observation there, the way he sounds like he’s cracking a conversational door if Sam wants to step through it, even more than the fact that they’ll likely never see each other again, that makes Sam close his book and turn to face him fully.

“Sometimes I think it would be easier,” he says, “if we had a family business. A store or a company or a tradition, ten generations of something that everyone would expect me to go into.” It’s not only the first time he’s said such a thing outside of his own mind before, but the first time he’s allowed himself to even think of it in such specific words. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, shakes his head. “I know it’s selfish, thinking that way. Plenty of folks would give a lot to have my sort of problems - I’m in a great school, my parents are supportive. I can choose practically anything I want.”

“But you aren’t someone else, and it doesn’t make it easier if you don’t know what to choose.” The man stretches long legs in front of him, hands patient in his jacket pockets. The calm understanding hits Sam in a way that nearly makes him want to turn his face.

Instead he asks, “How did you choose your job? Whatever you did.”

“I was a social worker for the state, working in the foster care system. Twenty years in the job. My wife and I adopted all four of our kids, and every time we went through the process, I knew that it would be impossible to bring all those children home with us. But it wore on my mind, thinking of them all, it really did. I stayed home with the kids when they were younger, but after that I went back to school, got my masters, started doing what I could to help all those I couldn’t bring into my own family.”

Telling a saint about my problems, Sam thinks. Smooth.

“It wasn’t as if I had thought of doing anything like that before, but then I ran into the idea and I knew it was the right one.” He shrugs, and for a sudden blink, Sam can imagine him younger.

Sam shrugs back. “Guess nothing like that’s happened to me.”

“Not yet, maybe,” says the man, but Sam shakes his head.

“And what if it doesn’t? I don’t have much time left to get--” He waves a hand around a little. “Inspired, or whatever.”

“Time, hmm?” With a tilt to his head, the man says, “Sounds like you’re putting quite a bit of pressure on yourself to have things figured out now. What if instead, you got things figured out for now?

“Like, for the next few months, or what? Because I have parents who like a little bit of a longer timeframe. And I don’t think they’ll be that impressed by my picking a major and then changing it next semester.”

A laugh. “So let’s go for something a bit more permanent. What are you interested in?”

“That’s pretty much the problem,” Sam says. “I’ve liked plenty of classes, but there’s nothing that really jumps out to me.”

The man shakes his head. “I didn’t necessarily mean classes. You’re thinking narrow.”

“I guess…” Sam runs a thumb over the soft-edged corner of the book in his lap. “I was a camp counselor, and that was cool. And we had to do CPR and first aid training there - I ended up getting EMT certified after that.”

“Really?” says the man, though he doesn’t sound entirely surprised. “Why?”

“I guess I liked the idea of being able to help people,” says Sam, ducking his head for a second. “It made my mom think that I was going to become a doctor like her, though.”

“And you don’t want to be?”

“I don’t think I’m that science-minded, man. I’ve looked at the sample MCAT questions. But it isn’t like there’s a paramedic major here.”

“You know,” says the man thoughtfully, “one of my sons-in-law got a degree in physics, even though he always planned on becoming an electrician. There’s no shame in learning for learning’s sake, if you have the means for it.”

“Bet he didn’t have my parents, though. They’re...They expect something from me. My dad was the first person in his family to go to college, and now he’s got tenure here. My mom worked her ass off - sorry - for years to get where she is. They want that to mean something.”

“I wonder,” the man says, “if you are holding onto a narrow definition of what has meaning. Because hard work, helping people, that seems to me like something that means a lot.”

Sam thinks of his mother coming home worn through and ready to go back tomorrow to help a new round of patients. He thinks of his dad explaining the ways that political science isn’t just theory, how it shapes lives without even being truly recognized. Slowly he says, “Maybe I could talk to them about it. See what they say.”

“I think that sounds like an idea,” says the man, smiling. “I’ve known a lot of parents in my time. I’d hope yours might surprise you - by being more open than you think, or bringing something new to the table.”

It surprises Sam, how much he likes the thought even as it scares him: just sitting down and telling his parents what he’s been thinking, hearing what they have to say. He shakes himself a little, looks at the fresh grass around them. “Thanks for talking that through with me. You’re pretty good at that.”

“I had plenty of people who taught me.” Once again his smile seems almost ready to tip into something else before he rights it. “And communication like that only works with someone who’s willing to give back from their end. So thank you.”

“What are you doing on campus, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“My wife is giving a lecture soon. I’m just a little early for it. Thought I’d enjoy the weather while it’s here.” He checks his watch, stretches himself into standing. “But it looks like it’s time for me to head over.”

“It was good to meet you,” says Sam, extending a hand. “I’m Sam Wilson, by the way.”

The man takes his hand, shakes it, but doesn’t say anything for a second. Finally, hand still clasped firmly around Sam’s, he says, “Steve. And believe me, Sam, it was very good to meet you.”

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