#unrelated but right would be a terrible lawyer

[louislovesdilfs]

Homesick (part 2)

Happy 60th Doctor Who anniversary! how could I not release the second part of this fic today, this is a bit long but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

sources: MatPat (film theory) and r/gallifrey on reddit (it was a debate so I took informations from different people and kind of mixed them together to work with something reliable,sort of)

pairing: 9th/10th Doctor x male!reader

please dont take anything I say about Doctor Who universe for canon, this may or may not be true, some of these are just theories, take them as such.

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"I told you I didn't like him, right?" Y/n says getting in the TARDIS, he sits on the yellow seats near the console lookin at Rose tilting his head a little, The Doctor chuckles as he watches the young man teasing Rose.

"oh please Y/n, just admit you were jelous" she scoffs teasing him back, they're talking about Rose new 'Boyfriend' Adam, he turned out to be as dumb as a donkey...no poor donkey he is as dumb as a rock.

"jelous? of that guy? tsk" he says almost offended by Rose's statement, he wasn't jelous, jelous of what? Rose? yea right...she's like his little sister, she looks a lot like his actual sister...or how she would look like now...anyway The Doctor flirts with Rose too and it doesn't bother him, it does bother him when The Doctor flirts with anybody else but that's totally unrelated.

"got all defensive now have you?" she teases him with a victory smirk on her face, Y/n tho ignores her turning to The Doctor who's grinning while messing with the console.

"Y/n is right tho, he got a hole in his head." The Doctor points out, Y/n smiles at him and they bump fists as Rose sighs

"two against one, so unfair" she says as the two men laugh looking at each other.

----

"is that a good idea?" Y/n asks genuinely concerned, Rose wants to see her father when he was still alive, she wants to witness his death, legit of course but absolutely not a good idea.

"I just want to know how he was." she says, a but of sadness in her voice,

"I'm not judging you, it's jus- it's ok watching your parents' wedding but witness his death?" Y/n says again, he knows about witnessing a parent death and it's not great, definitely not something he wants to repeat

"how would you know?" Rose doesn't actually snap at him, it's a genuine question born from his concern, he looks away not wanting to answer at first so The Doctor interrupts them

"he's just worried, and so am I Rose" The Doctor says resting a hand on Y/n's shoulder, the man probably understood, he can see Y/n's been trough something and doesn't want to share, after all The Doctor does the same thing.

"I want to see him." she says firmly, Y/n and The Doctor let out a defeated sigh

"your wish is my comand, just be careful what you wish for" The Doctor says pressing some buttons.

As Y/n predicted things went terribly, Rose did manage to adjust the mess she made anyway, the three are silently walking to The TARDIS but Rose is looking at Y/n and then at The Doctor who shifts his gaze from the floor to her and then him before shaking his head lightly at Rose.

"Y/n" she calls turning to him ignoring The Doctor

"yes?" he turns to her not suspecting anything

"do you have a family?" she asks, rightfully Y/n thinks, they both oepend up, The Doctor talked about the Time War and his planet, Rose made them witness her father's death and in general they always tell some stories from their past, Y/n doesn't, it did make the both of them curious even if The Doctor didn't want to admit it.

"once." he sighs and he is thinking about stopping there but seeing the curious gaze of his friends makes him give in.

"we were four, my dad, he was a lawyer, worked until his last day on earth, my sister...she...she was so sweet, she looked like you Rose.." he says looking at her, she did look like her sister, it was painful yet beutiful in his eyes.

"she disappeared, probably kidnapped." he says but his ideas on the matter where slightly different, he could ask The Doctor to go back just to have the answers but he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to know if she's dead. He wants to keep hoping.

"my mother died when I was 7, she died in front of me, she wanted to help a poor man on the road, he then tried to kiss her and she rejected him, he gave her 50 stabs, I was there, I witnessed it all. He wasn't a poor man and she wasn't his first victm. The police didn't arrive on time and he was running away. I grab his knife and- " he stops, his hands closed in fists as his eyes are holding back tears. The Doctor brushes his knuckles and holds his hand as soon as Y/n lets him. Rose looks at the two men hesitating before hugging Y/n, she didn't want to ruin the moment between the two.

"he will stay on a wheelchair for the rest of his life." he says looking at The Doctor and holding his hand tightly as he rests the other on Rose's shoulders accepting the hug. After a while she lets go of him and the three enter The TARDIS but she notices, the two men are still holding hands, they're sharing a grief, both of them are alone in this world, the look in their eyes is similar, Rose sees it, do they?

-----

to be honest all the time Y/n wasted flirting with Jack gave him something else to thinks about even if that would mean having the burning stare of The Doctor on his neck. His mind was repeating the same things, over and over: there is no escape, they're all going to die, what if Rose gets turned in one of them? what if The Doctor is the one? can't go home without him, they're going to be stuck there, forever, die like this, being emptied out...what a pathetic way to die. He wakes up from his thoughts, the group is not far from him still they sound distant, maybe cause he's not paying attention to them, something in the room feels wrong, something is off even if it's hard to recall what precisely. He sees it tho, after a few minutes, the little boy behind her, it's too late to yell at them to run, it's too late to warn Rose but something makes Y/n's legs move as fast as they could putting himself between Rose and the kid, he feels the touch of the tuny hand and the only thing he can do now is turn to face the others,

"Run" Y/n says with a pale face, what an idiot he is, sacrifice himself, the thought of it almost makes him chuckle,

"Y/n-" Rose tries to say something but the young man shakes his head interrupting her,

"no, I won't let that happen again. Go. it was good while it lasted." that's all he can say, the thing is pushing in his throat, it draws blood as it makes its way to the surface, it hurts, it's all so painful, he shuts his mouth trying to hold back the infamous words he feels in his throat; he helds back tears too, Y/n doesn't want them to see him that vulnerable, it's so pathetic. He couldn't let Rose die, he couldn't let that happen, not again, she...not her, not now.

"You're not going to die, Y/n, that's a promise" The Doctor says in a deadly serious tone, he looks mad, maybe at himself for allowing this to happen.

"go..m-mom-" Y/n falls to his knees before the complete dark, he doesn't see anything, he feels his body moving but has no control of it, that is his end, that's where he will stay for the rest of eternity but then a familiar voice brings him back to reality.

"Y/n!" Rose says as the young man opens his eyes,

"Rose? what?" he asks puzzled, he looks at her as she smiles widely. Rose pulls him in a tight hug and he allows her to do so, he's happy she's okay and apparently he is too. The Doctor joins the hug too as Y/n hugs him even tighter, The Doctor laughs shaking his hand in Y/n's hair messing them up a bit.

"you thought you lost me didn't you?" Y/n asks smiling at the man, the smile was genuine, The Doctor stares at the young man for a while thinking how complicated this guy is, there are worlds to discover in Y/n, worlds.

"you doubted me didn't you?" he asks offended but still smiling, his smile is wide, he's so happy to see Y/n again, he did think he lost him for a second,

"answer a question with a question?" he shots back looking in The Doctor's eyes with a cheeky smirk,

"avoiding to answer the question?" both of them laugh leaving Rose in confusion,

---

"oh god oh shit!" Y/n says looking at the glass bridge, he is in some sort of game he doesn't remember how he got in or when he just know he is there, he needs to play to survive, squid game style, indeed the game he needs to play is exactly like the one in the show, 18 sets of pannels, the players have to jump on one of them and hope the glass they jumped on is the tempered one, if not they fall dying, Y/n hates the game, it's generally decided by random coin flips, worst case scenario we have 18 deaths, best case scenario 0 deaths but the chances are more than just low.

The chances for the first in line to get everything right are 1 in 262.144 wich gives and average of 9 deaths, meaning: first 6 people are screwed with less than 5% chance of survival while going 13th and later the chances grow to 95% or better. Y/n knows it, it doesn't take long to do the math, he chooses his number, 13, he's the 13th in line the game for him goes smoothly but he will always remember the screams he heard while the other fell in the nothingness. Once on the other side the bridge explodes and all the pieces of glass hit Y/n everywhere leaving him tiny cuts all over, he is a bloody mess and as soon as The Doctor rescues him he notice the lucid eyes of his.

"you ok?" he asks brushing the other man's hand in a caring way, Y/n doesn't answer, he just nods. lies.

Later on, The Doctor, Rose and Y/n are on floor 500, as Rose's speaks

"suppose" she says and The Doctor turns to her

"what?" he asks, Y/n turns to her too, hoping she has a good idea

"nothing" she shakes her head still thinking

"c'mon Rose, spit it out" Y/n sighs, his face still covered in tiny cuts and bruises bleading from some of them.

"No, I was just thinking. I mean, obviously you can't, but, you've got a time machine. Why can't you just go back to last week and warn them?" she says, The Doctor and Y/n both shake their head, it was a nice try, not good enough but nice.

"As soon as the Tardis lands in that second, I become part of events, stuck in the timeline." The Doctor explains but then he rants about something, it isn't clear to Y/n even if he can understand half the things he says, he learns fast and really smart but yet something about this Delta Wave and crossing his own timeline seems off and wrong, too late to understand it tho, the TARDIS starts to move Y/n rushes to the door before it closes shut but they don't lead where Y/n wishes, a vortex is what he finds, he falls in it as he hears Rose shouting his name and then the TARDIS door closing.

Y/n risked his life tons of time with The Doctor, he did always end up alive tho, The Doctor was such a brilliant man, it didn't last as long as Y/n wished; that's what his mind thinks before the pain, he's falling while the time winds shred his body, the pain is excruciating, he can't scream, he can't cry, he can't even breath; the air is stuck in his lungs while all his body gets older, he can feel his organs failing, but it gets also younger, his cells go back to when they were born. His body tries to heal itself as fast as it can, it borns and dies a countless amount of times.

His mind sees everything, every point in history, he's there. He has always been there. His brain gains informations it shouldn't get, too much he feels it melt, it isn't tho, no, no it is expanding itself in a painful process, as slow as it is quick. Time is relative, past, present, future...and then the end. He's back, a gold light makes him come back, it's like his heart beats twice, his chest hurts, his head hurts, his eyes are complitely red, blood is where is supposed to be white, he sees The Doctor, his Doctor kissing Rose...she's alive, he's alive...Y/n closes his eyes but a smile is formed on his lips as a tear runs down his cheek before the dark.

When his eyes open he is inside of the TARDIS, Rose is on the ground, alive but probably unconscious, The Doctor is near the console shining in the same gold light, Y/n understands something is going to change, his mind is still hurting him but that doesn't stop him from standing up ignoring the pain in his body.

"Y/n, oh you're so stubborn, you couldn't just stay in the TARDIS huh?" The Doctor says while his hands glow, it's not as pretty as before, it looks wrong.

"you're dying are you?" he says looking at the man's hand, The Doctor smiles shaking his head

"Timelords regenerate, we change appearance to cheat death, It's the last time you're seeing me with this face, Y/n" he says looking at the young man, he's looking at him like this will be the last time he will be able to do it, Y/n gets closer but The Doctor steps back telling him to stop, Y/n doesn't, he gets closer to the man touching his cheek with his right hand, no words are spoken between the two, just an understanding look, a stolen kiss, quick, meaningless.

Rose wakes up in time for The Doctor's goodbye, a burst of golden light and then a new face, he surely looks handsome, messy hair, cheeky smile, he's good looking for sure.

"where was I? ah yes..Barcellona!"

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

as everyone is celebrating the Sycorax leaving Y/n feels like he already saw it, he knoes something is wrong as he looks at The Doctor faking a smile to avoid ruining the moment, but Y/n can't lie to The Doctor, he always seems to see right trough his lies sometimes. He gets closer looking at the young man

"what?" he asks, new voice, new accent...it's difficult for Y/n to see his Doctor in this man

"something is about to happen" and as he says that the Sycorax spaceship explodes attacked by 5 green beams that steak up in the sky

"what is that? what's happening?" Rose asks as her smile disappears quickly, Y/n stares at Harriet with fire in his eyes, not thinking about why he knew something was coming, it doesn't matter now, he feels his blood boil as he he grits his teeth before speaking in a very low voice

"they killed them." he says and then turns to The Doctor, the man sees the fury in Y/n's eyes but understands it, he shares the same anger, Y/n whispers something to The Doctor and he nods getting closer to Harriet's assistant, five words, and she's done. 

"Oh, it's beautiful. What are they, meteors?" Rose asks looking at the sky,

The Doctor dressed up with a brown suit and a long coat on top, he's wearing white converse which Y/n, who loves sandshoes, appreciates about this new Doctor,

" It's the spaceship breaking up in the atmosphere. This isn't snow, it's ash." he explains looking at the sky as well

Y/n stays behind, watching the two of them, he listens to the conversation, he doesn't want to interrupt them, he doesn't want to be the third wheel really,

"Well, back to the Tardis. Same old life." he says looking at Rose

" On your own?" she asks biting her nail a but unsure about his answer, Y/n scoffs silently, of course not, look at him, the man is lost.

"Why, don't you want to come?" The Doctor asks her raising his eyebrows

"Well, yeah." she says and in that moment Y/n interrupts leaning against the TARDIS

"I'm invited too right? just checking" he asks crossing his arms

"I'd love for the both of you to come" The Doctor says looking at Y/n and then at Rose, she takes Y/n hand dragging him near them, and then she takes The Doctor's too, they start pointing at the stars asking in which direction they should go, wherever will do, for the first time ever Y/n is actually feeling good about something.

[autumnmobile12]

Food for thought: The SPR team is pretty eclectic as far as supernatural solutions go. They've got religious figures, people with psychic abilities, researchers. Any ghost they come across, they're pretty much set.

But forget supernatural causes for the hauntings a moment and go back to the first case where it was just a creaky building sinking into the earth. That can't be the only time that ever happened, so now I'm imagining the whole team has an interesting medley of random certifications and educational backgrounds just to make up for the various natural explanations they encounter.

Old pipework leaking water into the ground could also cause a building to sink. Maybe the soil the house was built on is just terrible at draining moisture. There could be a lot of reasons a house is sinking.

I'm imagining someone on Naru's payroll is a certified building inspector. (That takes roughly two semesters.)

Scratching noises and knocking sounds? Could be small animals or other pests, so someone also has a pest control certification? (Three months course.)

They have a lot of electrical equipment that could be a potential hazard. Somebody on the team could be a fire safety officer.

With the advent of the internet ('cause Ghost Hunt takes place in the 90s?) becoming more popular, someone on the team is now the IT person.

All of them probably have CPR and BLS training. Ayako probably just decided to become a certified trainer just to cut out the middle man. Right in the middle of an investigation, she just pulls out the dummy and workbooks and says, "All right, Mai and John get over here. Both of you are due to renew your CPR training."

Yasu probably went to law school just so he could be the company's attorney when the situation arose. (Also, great fallback plan. He would be the most aggravating lawyer ever.)

...

Just saying, if Mai or Yasu are moving on from the ghost hunting scene, they don't even need to put paranormal researcher on their resume.

"Miss, can you tell us why you have so many unrelated certifications on your CV?"

"...I had an...interesting career in my teens and twenties."

[flamingredanon]

Once upon a time in a far away kingdom there lived a beautiful princess named Ellie and one day a noble knight rode into town seeking a place to rest. The king took notice to the young man and invited him to spend the night in the castle.

His name was Sir. Charles and he and the princess hit it off right away. Over dinner he told stories of his travels. A Snow White dragon who kept stealing riches from a town who in the end turned out to be a kind soul and agreed to be a protector of the villagers rather than a threat. A old king who could turn anything into gold with a single touch, but rather than sharing this gift he turned all of the kingdom into golden statues. Charles had to destroy him, which ended the curse!And a fierce phenix who’s spent his entire life racing the sun. He was very kind and provided the night a warm place to sleep for the night.

Ellie loved every single one of his stories and the next morning they shared a nice walk through the garden.

The king took notice of their closeness and offered them an idea.

“You have been travelling for a long time, young knight. You have my permission to marry my daughter and take my throne when when I pass.”

There was a moment of silence before

“WHAT?!?” Shrieked the princess, “YOU’D JUST HAND ME, AND THE TROWN, OVER TO A COMPLETE STRANGER? ALSO, what makes you think I’d want to marry him? My heart already belongs to another!” “And I like boys.” the knight added.

The old king raised his hands to silence them and with a chuckle he replied “Well in that case I still insist you stay, young one. Your travels have been long, you deserve a home and clearly Ellie has made a friend out of you. If you do not want to stay as my daughter’s suitor then you may stay as my son.” Ellie cleared her through “Who will not take the throne.”

The princess grinned and the knight’s eyes widened.

“Y-you want to be my family?” He spluttered out.

Charles had to sit down and think for awhile. It was true he didn't have family and while he still liked adventuring, knowing that he had a home to rest at would be nice.

After a few minutes, Charles stood up and spoke "I accept your offer to be your son, King Galeforce."

The King was ecstatic, hugging and twirling Charles around as he laughed "You don't need to call me King anymore, son! You are my new son and can call me father!"

Ellie could only smile at the prospect of having Charles as her brother.

---

Weeks passed and Charles was officially crowned royal Prince. Though he didn't stay too long as the winds of adventure was calling and Charles happy to follow.

Though Galeforce made sure that Charles had plenty of gold and supplies and was there to see his new son off, knowing he would be back home when he needed to rest.

And Ellie, well she watched Charles leave from her castle window, wrapped in the arms of her beloved, the fiery phoenix himself, currently in human form, Right.

---

Charles made it up one of the tallest hills of the kingdom and saw the castle from a distance. Though it might be months before he sees his home again, he would be sure to bring many stories and trinkets from his journeys.

[inspiteallthedanger]

Hello 'tis I, one of your devoted readers! ;) I just wanted to let you know that the last chapter put the biggest smile on my face (very much needed, I just finished reading it during a very dry 6h lecture). I'll leave you a proper comment tonight but just know that it was an utter delight to read :) (that scene with them jamming together was everything!!)

Unrelated: I've been re-reading John's letters to Melody Maker and I can't help but wonder wtf those 9 lines were about that were cut bc the lawyers feared they might border libel. And then in that other letter to Williams "P.S.: What was libel about saying Paul was camp?" Is this referring to Paul's "granny music" or what?? What did he write? I know we'll probably never know but I'm the literal embodiment of the "I don't need sleep I need answers" meme rn. What's *your* opinion on the whole thing?

What a lovely message, thank you SO much. I'm glad you enjoyed it and that it enhanced your lecture. A chapter in which music is a proxy for any form of intimacy. At least we can be sure Paul won't freak out now and make everything worse, right?

Oh God. The MM debacle. I get such terrible secondhand embarrassment reading it. I can't imagine how furious Paul was to actually be out and out critical of John and Yoko. And John's letter back. Yikes. It's the way it sort of starts off with addressing the business points but then he can't help himself and it just dissolves into a tirade that doesn't really make sense.

The thing with them too, is that you just know there are way more little digs in there than we know about. I'm sure that John referencing gigs has some significance to Paul that's not complementary.

As for what's removed, it's hard to say isn't it? I don't know enough about liable but it would need to be something that could be proved to be a lie and had the chance of impacting Paul negatively. No one knows for sure what it was because all that’s left is a letter back to the journalist in response to the the letter telling John it had been removed. John signs it off with:

P.S. What was liable about saying Paul was camp? 

Now, we don’t know that the problem was that he called Paul camp. Although given how sue-happy everyone was then, that might have been enough to set the lawyers scrambling. But it’s possible he called him camp but in the context of another issue that they were worried about and John’s just being obtuse in his response. He doesn’t really mention Northern Songs in the printed letter for example, so it might have been about the legal stuff around that. That would make sense, because the rest of the final letter is about the rights to Happy Xmas.

Although, it’s not impossible John called Paul something homophobic, given the timing of the letters. It would make a sort of twister logic too in a projection kind of way. Also I really winced in the Paul interview with him bringing up John throwing up from nerves (or that’s what Paul is suggesting). So I can see John overreacting to that saying “I’m macho and you’re camp” or something. I guess it might also have been in reference to Paul asking to meet without the women and John making a joke about why Paul would want that. Again. That’s truly incredible of Mr Lennon if so, but given his state of mind, certainly not impossible.

I would love to know, but always suspect these things would end up being so much less exciting than we want it to be. Like it is just slagging off his music like, “Well at least I don’t make camp granny music”. That is 100% the sort of thing I can hear him saying, and it was in line with how he was talking about what he wanted for his own music in LR. You wouldn’t think that would be enough to worry a lawyer, but who really knows.

Side note my favorite bit in the reply letter is the second PS (nothing says “I’m not a crazy ranting person” like multiple P.S.s) which simply says: 

P.P.S. The Letter was very tastefully done

[4ragon]

Can't speak for anyone else but I for one would love an incoherent rant about the dark age of the law plotline

Alright buckle up kiddos.

So I have a lot of complaints with Dual Destinies as a whole. It’s a poorly paced mess, the final confrontation was deeply underwhelming, it has all these weird “Gotcha” moments where they put in the most bizarre, logic breaking plot twists and then undo them within ten minutes completely for shock value. And yet, despite all of these issues, there is nothing in this world that pisses me off more than the words “The Dark Age of the Law.”

I hate the Dark Age of the Law subplot more than literally any other thing in Ace Attorney. It is a complete failure of a story in literally every possible way. It not only doesn’t work within the context of Dual Destinies, it also completely flies in the face of everything we understand about the original trilogy! It!!!! Sucks!!!!

But no. That was too coherent. I think we should break this down.

First I’m going to start on a macro level. The Dark Age of the Law is the clearest indication to me that the writers of Dual Destinies never played another Ace Attorney game. They treat this Dark Age of the Law thing like this big bad, this shiny new toy, this never before seen wonder, but??? Corruption has been a CENTRAL part of every single AA game since game one!! Since case 2 even!!!

The Dark Age of the Law is this whole idea that people have lost their trust in the court system. And what do they site as the catalyst for this breaking of trust? Phoenix Wright’s disbarment and Simon Blackquill’s arrest.

And okay. Phoenix Wright’s disbarment is a reasonable one. Phoenix was sort of known for being this paragon of truth and justice, this man willing to do what it took to find the truth and protect people in need. His name being smeared through the mud could very well shake up the foundations of trust that the people had in the court system.

But Simon Blackquill? Simon FUCKING Blackquill shook up people’s faith in the court system?? Simon Blackquill is the reason that people are convinced that the entire system is full of lies and deceit? SIMON CONFESSED!! He didn’t even do anything corrupt!! He murdered a woman, sure, but he then immediately lets everyone know “Yes, I super did this murder. No one else.” And they treat it like it’s this big turning point??

LANA SKYE!! You guys remember Lana Skye? The Chief Prosecutor at the time, who was accused of murder, and who still went to prison for doing like a million other crimes after being blackmailed by the chief of police.

SPEAKING OF WHICH the fucking CHIEF OF POLICE was a murderous monster who blackmailed people and also murdered. Did that have no effect on people’s trust in the courts?

Manfred von Karma? Never lost a case in 40 years, literally everyone talked about how he and Miles were KNOWN to be corrupt? Also, you know, murdered a man in cold blood?

Blaise Debeste??? Chairman of the fucking ETHICS BOARD???????? Like!!! That’s some deep fucking corruption right there!!!! And he constantly talks about the mysterious disappearances around him of people who disagreed with him, does that not shake your faith?!

In Turnabout Sisters, as early as case 1-2, Redd White calls up the Chief Prosecutor (who also is not Lana, just to be clear) and demands his complicitness in covering up his own crimes. That’s how central corruption is to the entirety of Ace Attorney.

And you’re going to look me in the fucking EYES and tell me Simon Blackquill, some 21 year old nobody with no power or influence, who theoretically stabbed a woman and made no effort to cover that up, is the reason the courts have lost the faith of the people? You have the NERVE??? the AUDACITY??? the fucking GALL????? to tell me that SIMON is what caused this? The system was never trustworthy, and if it was, what the FUCK did Simon have to do with changing that???

Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting.

BUT

Let’s pretend for a moment that Dual Destinies existed in a vacuum. First Ace Attorney game you’ve ever played. Never touched another one in your life. If you were unfamiliar with the world that Ace Attorney has already spent six games establishing, does the Dark Age of the Law subplot hold up?

No. No it doesn’t.

So as I’ve said a million times before, it was clear that Dual Destinies should not have tried to juggle three protagonists. It just didn’t work. They learned their lesson and booted Athena out of that protagonist title in SoJ, and as much as I hated that decision, it was at least a much stronger overarching story for it.

Now. There were three main throughlines in Dual Destinies. Athena’s story centered on introducing her, of course, but it also was about her struggle to save a friend who needed saving from the law and also himself. It was very AA1 in that way.

Apollo’s story was a little harder to outline, because a lot of it is saved for the last couple of cases, but it’s really about his relationship with Athena. Coming to trust her, his trust in her being shaken, struggling to overcome that, grief, loss, yadda yadda, and I have my criticisms of how it’s handled, but that’s the gist of it.

And Phoenix needed a story. So they made up this stupid fucking bullshit garbage and dumped it in his lap and said “Here you go, best friend! Our dear money maker! This is what you’re working with!” And then they proceeded to use it to beat the shit out of Phoenix until he started spitting out dollar bills.

Okay no sorry I have no idea what the fuck I just said but liSTEN

The Dark Age of the Law storyline was clearly supposed to have some significant thematic relevance to the story, given how hard they were hammering it into us in case three. It was supposed to mean something, and I think it was supposed to mean something to Phoenix in particular. After all, he and Miles won’t stop TALKING ABOUT IT GOD MAKE THEM SHUT UP

The Dark Age of the Law subplot had nothing to do with that final case. Remove it, and nothing changes, because, again, Simon had nothing to do with the corruption in the first place, and the Phantom certainly had nothing to do with corruption. It’s so surface level. “Uh oh, people don’t like the courts. If you can solve this unrelated crime, everything will be fixed.” And then he does (also Athena should’ve been the one to win the case, but that’s a different problem) and nothing ever comes of it, other than “Hooray, you fixed the corruption!” He didn’t??? Miles what the fuck are you talking about????

If they had woven in the corruption throughout the story somehow, maybe it would’ve found some way to be impactful? But it was a floundering, half-thought-out subplot in an already bloated game that failed to give any meaning or help anyone develop as a character. Hell, it kept falling out of relevancy and only popped in to rear its head when the writers remembered it existed and decided to have yet another person remind us that THIS IS IMPORTANT GUYS NO REALLY.

Like! Okay. What if they tied it more to AA4? I mean Phoenix’s disbarment and subsequent return could’ve actually affected the plot. Have people actively mistrust Phoenix or something. Or maybe have it affect anyone in any way. Sure it divides the fucking high schoolers for that mess of a “power of friendship” storyline, but so could a plot about, I don’t know, electing a homecoming queen or something. It affected Athena for one case, but what did that even teach her other than “Trust your gut, sweetie, don’t do lawyer crimes!” Phoenix didn’t have an arc in this game, and he shouldn’t have had to, unless it was coming to grips with the fact that he was never going to get those 7 years of his life back and the smears against his character were always going to linger. But they didn’t do that, they just needed him in there for brand recognition.

I can handle a lot of bullshit in these bullshit lawyer games. That’s part of the appeal. But unlike most of the other bullshit, this particular threat was unsatisfying, meandering, and unnecessary.

[krytus]

megatrons & how well you can argue they did nothing wrong

cyberverse megatron: he got shot in the pebis so you cant help but feel bad for the guy. vehicular manslaughtered starscream but to be fair starscream acts Like That. was literally physically too gay to kill optimus.

verict: he was too dumb to do anything wrong sucessfully so not only is apologism allowed, it is encouraged

cyberverse megatron x: homophobe. if thou partakes in megs x apologism thou will be hearing from my lawyer

verdict: don’t fucking try it <3

tfp megatron: he did horrible things but he also stabbed himself with satans blood so i just dont think he ever developed that muscle that helps you make good decisions. also too gay to kill optimus but it wasn’t nearly as endearing.

verdict: you can say he did nothing wrong if you make it funny

tfa megatron: i’d say not valid just bc i cant stand the average tfa stan but he did make several points about autobot leadership unfortunately. killed starscream but also failed to kill starscream. had to deal with lugnut which i think is punishment enough for all the terrible decisions he made.

verdict: tfa megs apologism is valid for now but you’re on thin fucking ice

bayverse megatron: i cannot think of anything this guy did that counts in his favor. he destroyed the pyramids of giza so like fuck him.

verdict: why would you want to clown for this guy he’s not even gay

idw / mtmte / comics megatron: i dont know anything abt the guy other than what ive seen in out of context comic panels but he looks gay

verdict: he did nothing wrong probably

prime wars megatron: every other megatron WISHES they were prime wars megatron. if there's one megs you should be willing and able to die on a hill defending its him. deserved the matrix of leadership. yes. THAT matrix of leadership. did optimus's job for him only like four times better bc that's the kind of king he is.

verdict: ten page essay on why prime wars megs did nothing wrong or you're getting hunted for sport

beast wars megatron: he’s included because he’s a filthy little kinny. refused to listen to his cool ex boyfriend dinobot which is like. a crime.

verdict: kinnies don't deserve rights. kinnies are not protected under the geneva conventions.

siege megatron: i want to hate him but then i look into his eyes and those luscious lips and give hasbro my credit card information

verdict: he let shockwave violate the geneva conventions repeatedly which is funny and worth defending

prime wars megatronus: he’s included bc as the original megatron he has. so much to answer for. defeated by the unrelenting power of homosexuality <3

verdict: i hate him so much

[jadelotusflower]

Roundup - September 2021

This month: Saving Fish From Drowning, Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass, Anne Boleyn, Cruella, The Chair

Reading

Saving Fish from Drowning (Amy Tan) - I've always enjoyed Tan's work (particularly The Joy Luck Club, both the book and film) - Fish is somewhat of a departure, following a group of American tourists in Myanmar, narrated by their recently deceased friend Bibi Chen. The novel begins with a preface in which Tan explains she drew inspiration for the novel based on real events chronicled by a San Franciscan psychic's "automatic writing" channeling Chen's spirit (in truth a complete invention on Tan’s part, both literary device and metaphor).

Bibi is a compelling narrator, full of wry commentary of her friends as they bumble their way through their trip, the tone of the novel quite light despite some of the dark subject matter around the political situation in Myanmar (the novel was written in 2005 and set several years earlier) and the nature of intervention - the title referring to fisherman who "save fish from drowning" by netting them. It was at times difficult to keep track of all twelve (!) of the main characters and who was who outside of the few who get the most attention of the narrative.

An interesting read, about the stories we tell ourselves and others, and the fictions we believe for comfort and hope.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there (Lewis Carroll) - I've been making more of an effort to work on my novel lately, which makes some reference to these works so thought it was due for a re-read. It seems impossible to consider these separate novels given how conflated they have become in pop culture - even the Disney film takes elements from both - they act as either a duology, or alternatively a single story told in two parts.

I personally much prefer Looking Glass, perhaps because I imprinted on the 1985 miniseries as a child (which adapts both novels, but we only had the second part on tape) - best known for it's celebrity cameos in silly costumes - including Sammy Davis Jnr, Donald O'Connor, Ringo Starr, and Carol Channing, among others, and the danger of the Jabberwocky as a manifestation of Alice's fears quite a nice idea that isn't found in the original text.

Perhaps Looking Glass, while remaining absurdist, is more cohesive than Wonderland with the chess motif and central motive for Alice to reach the Eighth Square and become a queen. I do however find the constant poetry tedious, and wonder whether both Wonderland and Looking Glass are better remembered for the concepts rather than the actual text.

Watching

Anne Boleyn (episodes 1-3) - I didn't think we needed another film/show about Anne, but I was always going to watch it. This series relies upon familiarity with history as it begins with Anne's final, doomed pregnancy - opening with the haunting words “Anne is the most powerful woman in England - she has just five months to live.”

There's nothing especially new here; rather a mood and character piece as Anne's isolation and desperation grows. It is of course built around the central, compelling performance of Jodie Turner-Smith, in every single scene and not afraid to shy away from Anne's sharper edges while remaining profoundly sympathetic, surrounded by a court of whispers, her existence on a knife's edge. We know only what Anne knows, and we see the smaller, heartbreaking moments usually passed over in other adaptations - in her grief following the stillbirth, Anne sits up in bed almost catatonic, milk leaking from her breasts, her attempt to walk back the infamous “dead man's shoes” comment, and the long days of her imprisonment.

Then there’s the beautiful costumes - in a court of dark furs, Anne wears bold primary colours and velvets that catch the light, that them become more subdued prints once she is in the Tower.

The other notable feature is the casting - described as "identity conscious" rather than colour-blind, representative of the othering of Anne and her relatives. Another standout is Thalissa Teixeira as Anne's cousin Madge Shelton, fleshed out as her confidant and the only one who remains true to her. It's a fresh perspective and a worthwhile watch, particularly for Turner-Smith's performance.

Cruella (dir. Craig Gillespie) - Spoilers. I wasn’t planning on bothering with this, but my sister wanted to watch it and I’d been told by several people that it was actually quite good. Look, I'm not saying they lied, I just think they were able to look past things that I was not.

Because actually, the core story has potential and the film has enjoyable elements (notably Emma Thompson), but simply falters every time they try and shoehorn references to the source material, and there are some truly egregious attempts - Roger is the Baroness’s lawyer for some reason? And writes the familiar Cruella De Vil song about how awful she is when she's just given him a puppy?

It doesn’t work as a prequel, or villain origin story, or even a reboot, since Cruella’s character journey is over by the end of the film (I have no idea what the purported sequel is going to be about) - in fact "Cruella" is just a persona Stone's Estella adopts (complete with a terrible affected accent), and there is no conceivable way for her to become the wannabe puppy murderer we know from the book or any of the film adaptations. Oh, and Pongo and Perdita are siblings! Well done, Disney. Slow clap for you.

Also, with a runtime of 2 hours 16 minutes it is Interminable and the whole thing is saddled with a terrible, unnecessary voiceover. Seriously, they should show this in film class to demonstrate when v/o hinders not helps.

They were likely going for a Maleficent-style re-imagining, but where that succeeded (somewhat) in a completely new retelling right down to a different ending to the source material, this wants to have it's cake and eat it too - it wants to have the Cruella aesthetic (the car, the hair, Hell Hall, the camp accent) but doesn't ever let her be a villain, or even the beginnings of a villain, but that's that's reason she's so memorable in the first place. It puts all the pieces in place for the story we know, and yet that story simply cannot happen with this version of Cruella.

In the end, it's a story of a fundamentally decent person who maybe goes a bit overboard in retaliating to bullies, and swindles a sociopath to reclaim what's rightfully hers. Cruella De Vil! I just couldn't get over this fundamental misapplication of the source material.

In many ways, it almost feels as if this was pitched as a sequel, with Cruella in the Baroness role. It would have fit a lot better with the aesthetic, the time period, and the concept of punk disruption of classic fashion. Or, it was a completely unrelated story of a plucky orphan who rises in the fashion world, that at some point was grafted onto the Dalmatians property. Either one would have worked better, frankly.

I am probably being overly harsh. If you switch off your brain and enjoy the clothes it’s fine. But honestly, if you want your live action Cruella fix, just watch the Glenn Close version, because it is superior in every way.

The Chair (season 1) - I watched this for Sandra Oh, and I was not disappointed, because I got to watch Sandra Oh. On the other hand...it's not that I didn't like it, I just...wish it had been better?

The story revolves around Ji-Yoon Kim, the first woman (let alone woman of colour) to become Chair of English at a "minor Ivy" university, as she tries to juggle the clash of old style academia and new, raise her daughter as a single mother, and deal with a series of controversies caused by one of her professors (and love interest). It's the latter I feel sucked up way too much time and was ultimately unsatisfying - particularly the end, which was played like a moral victory but really rubbed me the wrong way. If this gets a season 2, I hope they dump Jay Duplass' fuckup sadsack because hoo boy, am I sick of that kind of male character.

But Sandra Oh is wonderful.

Writing

The Lady of the Lake - chapter 5 posted, 4215 words (10,261)

Against the Dying of the Light 1954 words (11,976)

Here I Go Again - 414 words (12,948)

Novel - 1039 words (1484)

Total this month: 7,622

Total this year: 48,435

[fakeyellow]

Kamilah faces the consequences of her actions. The Ending(s) of Forget Me Not.

I wrote three different endings. If you don’t want to read all of them, just read the third one.

1.

Kamilah watches from afar as Isla puts her life back together, piece by piece. There’s a bit of confusion, adjustment needed as Isla comes to terms with the missing gaps of her memory but she’s always been strong and she picks herself up.

Kamilah follows Isla’s career as she becomes Grant Emerson’s campaign manager and successfully gets him elected as Mayor of New York. And although she knows it’s old fashioned to cut out newspaper clippings, she does exactly so, collecting all the snippets in articles and photos that include even the slightest mention of her.

When Isla seems to decide that she doesn’t want a future in politics, she looks into jobs with financial corporations, and at one point, her resume crosses Kamilah’s desk via the mistake of an intern.

Her hand pauses over the small, professional headshot included in the resume and Kamilah can’t help but stroke it tenderly, as if she were stroking the woman’s actual face.

She’s changed her hair since the campaign and it suits her. Although the picture is still Isla, there is a remarked maturity in her face that reminds Kamilah bitterly of just how much time has passed.

She can only imagine how much Isla must have grown, how much she must have changed, how much she must have gone through. The new connections she must have made, the new interests she must have discovered, the new relationships she must have formed...

There is only so much her guards can tell Kamilah, from their positions in Isla’s neighbouring apartments, and besides, she had placed them there to guard Isla, not to spy on her.

She forces herself to be content with what she does know of Isla and she continues to scour the newspapers for new mentions of her.

—

A few years later, when Isla’s become established in her own career, Isla falls in love.

Kamilah discovers this all by chance one day when she’s meeting with the lawyer representing a business Ahmanet Financial is in the middle of acquiring.

The lawyer’s phone lights up with a call and although the woman quickly apologises and puts it into her pocket, Kamilah catches a glimpse of the lock screen.

It is a photo of Isla and the woman, dressed in a beautiful white dress and a white suit respectively. They’re kissing and Kamilah suddenly notices the shiny, new wedding band on the lawyer’s finger.

The meeting finishes without any other complications and Kamilah is left alone in her office.

There is an unspeakable pain in her heart, a sudden pang of loss even though she had always known this was likely to happen, and she closes her eyes, the photo branded onto her mind.

It’s in the middle of her grief that Kamilah then hears the voice.

It’s small, even with Kamilah’s heightened senses, and she realises it must be coming from the lawyer’s cellphone as she makes her way to the elevator.

Words of affection are exchanged between the two women and Kamilah listens to Isla, hearing the happiness, the warmth, the love that flows in her voice.

Although it still hurts, Kamilah smiles.

“I’m happy for you Isla,” she whispers into her empty office.

And that is the last time Kamilah hears Isla’s voice.

—

For all intents and purposes, Isla lives a long, fulfilling life.

She thrives in her career, leading numerous initiatives that help the lives of thousands of people. She flourishes in her marriage to the lawyer, and they spend a happy 50 years together.

Isla passes peacefully in her sleep at the old age of 84 and her funeral is filled with all the people who’s lives she touched.

Speeches are made of her great deeds, her loving nature, her unrelenting determination to do what is right.

And when the last funeral-goers finally trickle out and Isla’s body is laid to rest in the ground, a single figure dressed in black appears.

The figure walks slowly towards the newly engraved tombstone and bows her head, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Kamilah kneels and places a single stem of forget me not flowers on the grave of the woman who will always hold her heart

2. Short ending if Serafine’s memory erasure hadn’t held.

Some background information: When Isla awakes without any memories or clues of the past year, she becomes determined to never again be left with nothing. She gets into photography, a way to forever capture moments of time. Even if her memories disappear once again, she will at least have her photographs.

One day when she’s developing her photographs, she notices a woman appearing over and over in her photos. She’s always in the background, with her face partially obscured, but Isla finally finds a picture where the woman’s full face can be seen.

After doing some research, Isla figures out that it is Kamilah Sayeed, the elusive CEO of Ahmanet Financial, and she goes over to the corporation building.

In the place where so many things had happened, Isla’s memories suddenly return and she goes to confront Kamilah in her office.

—

“How could you?” Isla burst out.

The shock on Kamilah’s face disappeared, giving way to a deep weariness and shame.

Kamilah sighed heavily, “I know. I did terrible things and I have been paying the price every day since.”

“No,” Isla shook her head as her eyes began to water, “How could you do that to me?”

“You were tearing yourself apart, Isla,” Kamilah said desperately, needing Isla to understand why she’d done what she had, “I wasn’t going to just stand still and watch as a small part of you died each day.”

“Still,” Isla’s voice broke on the word.

“It should have been my choice,” she continued fiercely, “And I would have told you that no matter what happened, I would always love you. I would always choose you.”

“We could have gotten through it together,” Isla cried out before turning silent.

It was after a long silence that Isla eventually asked, in a small voice that conveyed the weight of all of the hurt she carried, “Didn’t you trust me?”

She gazed probingly into Kamilah’s eyes, as if searching for something in its depths. But finding them lacking, Isla finally sighed and whispered.

“Goodbye Kamilah.”

3. If Serafine’s memory erasure hadn’t held: Version 2

“How could you do that to me?” Isla asked, her face crumpling as she grappled with the full realisation of what had happened.

And although Kamilah wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in her arms and never let go, there was also a part of her that wasn’t sorry for what she’d done.

“You were tearing yourself apart Isla!” Kamilah burst out almost in frustration, desperately needing Isla to understand why she’d done what she had done, “I wasn’t going to just stand still and watch as more and more of you died with each day.”

“So what,” Isla scoffed, her watery eyes burning furiously at Kamilah, “You thought you’d erase my memories? You thought that if I didn’t remember you or anything else from the past year, I’d just return to my normal life, as if nothing had ever happened?

Kamilah remained silent, unable to say anything as Isla’s voice grew in intensity.

“Well you were wrong,” Isla bitterly said, “When I woke up, I was alone. Do you know how it feels to have woken up only to realize that you’ve lost an entire year of your life?”

“You even took Lily away from me,” Isla cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks, “You took Adrian and Jax and…”

“You all were my family and you took it all away” She continued, “I couldn’t even remember you. I just knew that there was something essential missing.”

Isla paused now, her voice growing quiet as she stared directly at Kamilah, “I cried myself to sleep every night. Did your guards tell you that?”

Kamilah flinched but Isla continued.

“Did they tell you that every day I woke up wishing I hadn’t? Did they tell you that I felt like a shell of a person, that sometimes, it felt as if I would drown in my loneliness?”

“Isla, I-” Kamilah began hoarsely.

“Did you even miss me?” Isla cut her off, searching probingly into the depths of Kamilah’s eyes.

A thousand words swelled up in her chest, begging to be released, but in the end, Kamilah could only breathe out, “Every day. Each and every second, I never stopped missing you.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled over and flowed down her face even as Isla forced herself to harden.

“I don’t forgive you,” Isla softly stated and Kamilah closed her eyes in response. There was pain written in the lines of her face but she nodded, as if she had expected this.

And then, suddenly, warm arms wrapped around Kamilah, Isla’s head nestling into her chest.

“But you’ve punished yourself for long enough,” Isla finished tearfully, “You have to forgive yourself. You deserve happiness too Kamilah.”

And Isla’s words finally caused Kamilah to break down in long, overdue tears. She’d repressed her emotions for so long in an attempt to atone for the weight of her countless sins, a weight that she’d constantly carried with her.

The redemption in Isla’s words were more than she’d ever hoped for.

Isla leaned back in their embrace, tenderly wiping away Kamilah’s tears. Kamilah grabbed onto Isla’s hand, leaning into her touch.

“Everyone is allowed to make mistakes. To mourn over something they wish they could undo. The important thing is that you come out of it a better person. You face up to what you did and you make amends. That is how you make up for your actions. Not by punishing yourself out of misplaced guilt,” Isla said.

Kamilah nodded and stared wondrously at Isla, almost unable to believe that this remarkable woman had come back to her, that Isla still believed so strongly in her.

“I still don’t forgive you for what you did to me,” Isla interjected sternly before softening, “But I will. And I will never stop loving you.”

Kamilah’s heart swelled with affection and it seemed impossible that one person could love someone so much.

“I love you too.”

—

A/N: The first ending was what I originally had in mind for the story and is why I titled it “Forget Me Not.” I thought it’d be sad to imagine Kamilah watching over Isla from a distance, seeing her have a happy life even if it broke her heart to not be with her.

Then I wrote the second ending where Isla isn’t able to forgive Kamilah for what she’s done to her. I really just wanted to end it on “Goodbye Kamilah.”

Then I thought about the second ending again and I thought the MC should be angrier at Kamilah at first, so that transformed into the third ending, which I think I like the best. I had a hard time coming up with what Isla’d say at the end so I used the long, italicised quotes from BB Book 2 Chapter 12 and 15. 

Which ending was your favourite?

[noire73]

illogical week (Bill Masters x Alec Hardy) Day 5- Job switch

Rated: G

I wanted to do more for this the illogical week from @illogicalhusbands prompts, but I couldn’t make time for it, but I really, really wanted to write this. I’ll put this on my AO3 later on along with the probably other 4 days i missed xD.

----

“I can’t imagine having your job,” Alec had said almost out of nowhere during one of the rare breakfast moments Bill managed to force his spindly boyfriend into having.

“Why not? I thought we had agreed that in concept it’s a very similar situation,” Bill said, folding his newspaper. “We both need to be prepared for an emergency as we could get called at unexpected hours, we have to deal with people on a daily basis, late shifts-”

“Yes-no but, I mean- I don’t think I could bare telling an expecting mother their baby-” Alec pursed his lips, stuttering for a moment before he found the right words to continue. “It’s hard enough as it is on my side, I wouldn’t want to have to experience it from the very beginning like you do.”

Bill sighed painfully. He knew what had prompted this, he just wondered why it had taken Alec this long to comment about it. A few days ago, Bill was called in the middle of the night to perform an emergency c-section to an unfortunate miscarriage. Alec had been the one to drive him to the hospital, arriving just before the ambulance had.

When Bill had returned from the ER, he had been white as a sheet of paper, hands in his pockets, and gaze firmly stuck to the floor tiles. He had avoided the waiting room -where Alec had stubbornly decided to stay- the minute he had seen him from afar, not wanting to give into the suffocating need of grabbing him by the hand and running away from the hospital. He didn’t want to see the disappointed look on the would’ve-been older siblings. He didn’t want to have to see an elderly woman cry, small, fragile thing; he most certainly didn’t want to see the husband’s reaction, the sheer devastating realization of impotency, and anger. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of himself when he had been on the man’s shoes.

It had been so long ago. Why now? Why was he being haunted by it now?

Bill had been so out of it, he didn’t see Alec approach him until he felt his hands softly on his arms. He tried to look at the taller man but he couldn’t will his eyes up or even lift his head just a tiny fraction. His eyes rested on the second button of Alec’s shirt, fighting a hard battle to keep the tears at bay. 

“Six months,” he barely whispered. “Stillbirth. We took it- took... out of her to- to prevent infection.”

“Bill-”

“Get me out of here,” Bill commanded in a shaky voice (barely louder than before) still not looking up at Alec, who didn’t take much convincing before he was leading them back to the car, a hand on his back the only thing he cared to focus on. The trip back home had been a complete blur of shadows and blinking lights. 

They didn’t talk, even though Bill could see from the corner of his eyes how Alec would sometimes look at him before huffing loudly. He had not been in the mood to talk about it yet, but having Alec beside him trying to figure out what was appropriate to do or say was really getting on his nerves, even though most of the times he found it endearing. Bill waited until a red light.

“I bought a couple of Cabernet Sauvignon from my last trip back to the States,” Bill placed a hand on Alec’s knee, squeezing softly, trying his best to look at Alec. “Maybe we could open one if you want.”

“If you’re up for it, yeah,” Alec dropped a hand from the wheel to cover Bill’s, entwining their fingers together. “There’s still some leftovers from earlier, we could- if you’re hungry, I mean,” his thumb was rubbing circles on Bill’s little finger.

“Yes, sounds nice,” Bill tried to smile, feeling just a small tug at the corner of his lips. Right before the light turned green, Alec lifted their joined hands to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on Bill’s fingers and carefully dropping his hand back to his lap. Bill started to miss Alec’s hand the moment the light change. 

The moment they were back inside the house, Bill leaned heavily against Alec, holding weekly at his jacket. There still was a hesitance in his partner’s response to this sort of contact, even after almost a year into their relationship. It was always a slow reach of hands that would snake their way up his back until they were wrapped around his shoulders. Slowly but surely, Bill thought. For all bones and sharp edges, Bill found out Alec gave pretty good hugs, always feeling the safest when he was cradled in his arms; that time hadn’t been an exception. 

As soon as Bill rested his head on Alec’s shoulder, his thin arms moved to encircle his shoulders, resting his scratchy cheek on Bill’s temple. He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t even want to drink really, he just wanted to lay in bed as the soft rhythm of his boyfriend’s breathing, the thumping of his once feeble heart. 

That’s all he needed. That’s all he wanted, but his feet were firmly planted on the floor. Not really knowing what else to do, his body completely frozen and unwilling to move, Bill finally left himself go, feeling a wretched sob tear through his body as he grasped Alec closer.

They held like that for a long time, with Alec whispering sweet, encouraging words on Bill’s ear. His arms eventually dropped down his waste to keep them upright better. Eventually Bill pushed himself away, apologising as he tried to dry his tears with the back of his hand roughly enough to feel the stinging drag of the skin, before Alec held on to it and whispered a soft “don’t do that.”

Moving to the living room with bottle and two glasses on hand, they sat there side by side, drinking slowly. At some point, Alec had reached an arm behind Bill, supporting it on the back of the couch, Bill started talking; he narrated what happened a few hours ago with detail, making Alec squirm just a couple of times (not really finding it in his heart to stop Bill as the medical report seemed to calm him down, even though Alec was having a hard time following up the more technical terms). It wasn’t until he reached the part where he had held the baby in his hands that he stopped, looking to a point far beyond the wall. 

Although he drew a couple of conclusions as to why this had affected his doctor so much, he was still unprepared to hear it.

“It happened to us. To Libby and me. I held our- I held her in my arms and I just- I…” he had been so stupid. “Our first success after so many attempts… after many failures,” said Bill, spinning his glass of wine by the stem with a shaky thumb and middle finger. “I was so afraid of- of how things would change. If I was really up for it or if I was even going to be a good father -which, well, we know had that turned out- that I thought it had been my fault she died because I didn’t want her...”

“Oh, Bill, that’s-”

“I know- I know. It took me a while to understand how out of my control that had been. Or- or so I thought,” Bill downed the rest of the wine. “I’ve been present for many similar procedures to this one but this time, it felt- if felt too close to home.”

Alec reached for the bottle, unsure of what he could even say to something like that. He filled their glasses with what was left, watching Bill make a face at his, wishing it was something ‘stronger’ than wine. “Look, Bill-”

“Do you ever regret choosing being a Detective?” Bill turned to look at him a bit more abruptly than his wine-dazed mind had appreciated. 

It took him a couple of seconds longer than he intended, still a bit aghast from the sudden change in their conversation. “No.” 

“Even after all the things you’ve been through? That- that thing about being the, er, ‘Worse Cop in Britain' thing?” Bill leaned closer to Alec, pales eyes trained on the other’s darker ones.

“I-It has its ups and downs, like any career. Aren’t you the same?”

Bill sat further down the couch with pouty wiggle. “I guess so…”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Regret it?” Alec asked in almost a whisper.

“Not really. I knew what I wanted to be very early on. Never saw myself as anything else,” Bill took a couple of sips of his wine. With an amused snort, he continued: “Imagine me as a lawyer or a politician.”

“Wouldn’t vote for you, that’s for sure.”

“Well, I wouldn’t for you either,” Bill elbowed him softly.

Alec pushed back. “As a lawyer I think you would be quite fierce and unrelenting. Wouldn’t want to be the poor bastard that had to go opposite of you, though.” 

“Like you wouldn’t be the same,” they laughed, the bubbly feeling of the wine was finally make its effects present. “How about a Detective? What do you think?”

“Oh, you want my job?” Alec said with a wide grin, his arm had fallen into Bill’s shoulders, pulling him closer as he teased.

“We could switch. I could be the Detective Investigator while you’re the Doctor for a week and then we switch back the next one.”

“That would be a terrible idea! Can’t even find your own house keys in the morning, ya want to find a criminal like that?” 

Bill slapped him in the knee with his free hand while having a giggling fit. It was rare to see a drunk Bill Masters enjoying himself instead of the angry and  tired mess he occasionally allowed to surface. Alec was determined on keep making him laugh like that more for as long as he could.

“Seriously though, I have terrible bedside manners, you would probably lose a lot of patients because of me.”

“Might be more fit for the morgue, then,” Bill slurred.

The gasp that escape Alec sent Bill into another fit of laughter, having to resign on leaving his empty glass of wine on the side table to prevent himself from dropping it. 

“You cheeky bastard!”

That had been days ago; the idea of switching careers stayed with them for a couple of nights. Nights that served to show both men that they would’ve probably died of hunger as actors. Still, they entertained the idea for long enough were Bill would sometimes refer to Alec as ‘Dr. Hardy’ when on the telephone and Alec would call him ‘Detective Masters’ in return. Bill didn’t think he would’ve taken it as a serious consideration until he sat down for breakfast.

“You thought about that often, then?”

“Not often, no,” Alec played with his omelette. “It came to mind recently.” 

Bill nodded, having to agree on daydreaming on the ‘what ifs’ a couple of times. “To tell you the truth, I couldn’t see myself in your place either. I don’t think I would be able to cope with the things you’ve seen. I admire you for that.” 

The sudden declaration took Alec off-guard, looking at Bill with wide-eyes. “Um, er, yeah- yes. Likewise.”

[pollylynn]

“Someone obviously went to great lengths to make sure she disappeared.” —Kate Beckett, Recoil (5 x 13)

Title: Ekphrasis Rating: T WC: 1000

It doesn’t last. Her bravado, conviction, zen-like acceptance that getting Bracken—getting justice for her mother and Montgomery and all the other victims, known and unknown—will have to come some other day. It starts to come apart at the seams almost as soon as he makes the executive decision to switch off the TV entirely when it becomes clear that there’s almost literally nothing on other than Bracken’s smug face.

She tenses against his body. He’s crowded in behind her—he has her framed in his arms—and he feels her vertebrae go snick, one by one, until they are an unrelenting, upright column. He feels her lungs pull in breath to protest, and he dives into the last instant of silence before she can.

“Tell me a story,” he says, low in her ear. He keeps close, when usually he’d retreat. Usually, he’d give her space, but he doesn’t this time. He’s not sure what’s possessed him.

“A story?” The odd request shocks some of the resistance out of her.  She is a line dissolving into a series of curves.  Her chin swivels to look at him over her shoulder. Her ribs, her collar bones, dip to accommodate it. Her posture opens enough to let his palm slip over the crest of her hip and across the expanse of her body. “Me tell you a story?”

“Yes, please.” He’s all prim and proper about it. He settles back against the couch’s right-angle bend. He shifts his shoulders in an exaggerated settling-in gesture as he draws her back with him.

“What—?” She frowns at what seems to be a question in place of what they were honestly both expecting to be a flat-out refusal. “A story about what?”

“Anything,” he says, but thinks better of it. Anything is too vast a territory. She can rules-lawyer her way out of anything. “A true story. Leave the fiction to me.”

He feels the resistance building in her again. He sees it in the busy-fingered way she plucks at the seam along the top of the couch and the restless shift of her lower body—knees up, feet flat, legs stretched out, toes reaching. He follows the rolling waves of her sadness and his gaze lands on something—an idea, an object, a character.


“Her,” he says. He lifts her hand and uses it to point to the figure on the table at the far end of the couch. “Tell me a true story about her.”

There’s an instant of silence, taut as a drum skin. Her ribs rise beneath the arm looped around her waist. Her elbow straightens, and he thinks at first that she’s pulling away—that he’s gotten things terribly wrong—but she laughs. Her head drops back against his shoulder, hard enough that they both wince. She circles her wrist to grab hold of his hand. To point at the small statue with both their fingers in tandem.

“Her,” she says, a little like a just-broken suspect, but the tail of end of that laugh is still wrapped around them, so it’s okay. She brings his hand to rest on her other hip, effectively folding herself in his embrace. “You would want to know about her.”

“Now I definitely would.” He buzzes the words against the soft of her neck. He studies the her in question, filing away a detailed report in his own memory. She’s a foot tall, or maybe a little less. She’s carved of some pale material that he knows already will be smooth and cool to the touch. She’s a fascinating mixture of featureless and expressive, with her head tipped to the right and her arms akimbo. There’s a slight bend in one knee as if she’s about to stride fearlessly into the next moment and the next. “Tell me about her.”

It takes her a little while to gather herself. With their heads bent together, he can almost feel the gears of her mind whirring in their orderly, methodical way. She won’t dive headlong into the story like he would, and the anticipation is delicious.

“Burke has one. My therapist,” she clarifies, even though he knows. She’s told him—haltingly—a little the man. A little about her sessions. “The same artist, but she’s sitting in his. This beautiful, elegant pose. It’s on the table by the patient“—her jaw clenches as she corrects herself—“the client chair.”

“And you liked her?” It’s a pointed question. Prodding like a herding dog nosing all his people into the same room. He’s still not sure what’s possessed him, but it feels like the wrong thing to let her duck into herself right now. “You liked her, so you got yourself one.”

“I hate her.” Her fingers curl and her nails dig into the backs of his hands for a fraction of a second, then release. She laughs again. It’s not hearty this time. It’s thick-throated, tiptoeing the line right up to tears. “I hated her.” The past tense siphons off some of the tension. “Every week I was two seconds from throwing her through the window.” She stretches her leg out. She points emphatically with her big toe. “That’s why I got her.”

“But it’s not why you have her, is it?” It’s not a question, it’s a prompt. It’s another cold, wet nose to the back of a bare thigh.

“No,” she admits. She draws her foot in. She tucks one leg under her body and pulls the other in toward her body. She lifts their arms together and loops them—all four—around her knee. “I have her because she’s strong.”

“And brave,” he adds. He spreads his fingers wide. He presses his palms to the lithe muscle of her thigh and feels the thrum of connection between them. “And good.”

“Good,” she echoes. “I hope so.” She takes one smooth, deep breath, then another, then another, then another. “She tries. She tries her best.”

A/N: Another little bit of a cheat, as this is mostly responding to an object. As much as Inner Stage Manager hates Beckett’s apartment, we love many of the objects in it. I am not sure when this figure appeared. It doesn’t seem to be there in early days, and of course I don’t know that it’s by the same artist who did the piece that’s in Burke’s office, but the similarities struck me.

images via homeoftheutty

[fanfics4all]

I’ll Protect You: Part 2

Request: Yes / No

Request are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Jughead Jones x Andrews!Reader

Word count: 2393

Warnings: A few curses

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

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1

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I walked downstairs because I couldn’t sleep, every time I close my eyes all I can see are those green eyes. I was going to make myself a cup of tea but I found a sleeping Archie sitting on a box with a baseball bat.

“Arch?” I gently shake him and he instantly holds the bat up.

“Hey, It’s just me!” I said putting my hands up.  

“Y/N? Sorry.” He said and put the bat down.

“What are you doing up Arch?” I asked walking into the kitchen.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said following me.

“I couldn’t sleep, I was going to make a cup of tea. All I can see are those eyes…” I sigh. Archie hugged me.

“I’m going to protect you and dad.” He said.

“Is that why you’re up?” I asked and he nodded. Before I could tell him how he needs sleep we heard footsteps coming towards our back door. Archie grabbed the bat and pushed me behind him, he slowly made his way to the door when Jughead opened it walking in.

“Whoa, whoa!” Jug said putting his hands up.

“Jughead, are you insane?” Archie asked putting the bat down again.

“Hey, you’re the one that looks like a Dream Warrior from Nightmare on Elm Street 3.” Jug said sitting down, I sat next to him.

“What’d the lawyer say?” I asked and he sighed.

“I’ve been walking around all night trying to wrap my head around how bad it is. It’s bad. My dad is facing 20 years…” He said and I warped my arm around him just to give him some form of comfort.

“Crap, Jughead, I’m sorry. That sucks.” Archie said.

“The lawyer thinks he should take the deal and that if he doesn’t, and the case goes to trial, he could be facing 40 years.” Jughead’s voice trembled a bit.

“I’m just really, really scared.” I could tell Jug was holding back tears. He stayed the night, in Archie’s room of course. The next morning I got dressed in a gray sweatshirt, jeans, high tops, and a necklace. I wasn’t really in the mood to put effort into today so I didn’t put makeup on. 

The three of us walked to school and went to class. We were all sitting in class waiting for the teacher when Principal Weatherbee walked in.

“May I have everyone’s attention? I have some tragic news to share.” He said. A few students looked at each other and there were a few whispers.

“Ms. Grundy, who was a teacher here last semester, was found murdered in her Greendale home last night.” He said. I looked at Archie and I knew this was going to be hard for him.

“I know some of you were students of hers, and that this news will be difficult to process.” Archie got up and rushed out the room. I got up and followed him I knew he was going home. I sat in the living room with my dad and Archie pacing around.

“First, you get shot. Then, Ms. Grundy is murdered. All within a matter of days. Dad what if some crazy person is going after the people I care about?” Archie stopped pacing and stared at us.

“What? You think I’m nuts?” He asked.

“No son, I think you’re scared. Understandably so. Truth is, we don’t know anything about what happened to Ms. Grundy.” Dad said.

“She’s dead, She was killed! Right across Sweetwater River!” Archie shouted.

“I know. It was a horrible thing.” Dad said with a sigh.

“Dad’s right Arch, we don’t know what happened to her, It could be totally unrelated.” I said. I knew the odds of this being unrelated were slim and that Archie was probably right. Archie sighed and walked off. I spent the rest of the night doing my homework and try ignoring what was happening.

Jug called me that night telling me about his plan to get Cheryl and her mother to testify for leniency. He asked me to come with him and I obviously agreed.

“It’s not exactly downsizing, is it?” He said as we walked up to the house.

“Hobo. Y/N. Welcome to Thistlehouse.” Cheryl said as we entered the house.

“Mother’s in the conservatory. Follow me.” She said. We all sat down at a large table and to say it was a bit uncomfortable was an understatement.

“Thank you for sitting down with us.” I said.

“Of course, Y/N.” Cheryl smiled.

“Okay, so the reason we’re here…” Jughead started.

“FP’s lawyer thinks that if the of the victim shows mercy-”

“Mercy. That’s why you’re here.” Mrs. Blossom cut me off.

“Well, it’s an appeal for leniency, from you.” Jughead said looking at both Mrs. Blossom and Cheryl.

“To reduce my dad’s sentence.” Jug finished.

“Where was your father’s mercy when I spent those countless nights walking the halls of Thornhill in agony, obsessing over what happened to Jay-Jay? Imagining the worst. Where was your father’s mercy when I slept under the same roof as a cold-blooded killer, night after night.” Cheryl said cutting Jug off.

“Cheryl, FP didn’t kill Jason. Okay? That was your dad. You saw the video.” I pointed out.

“If it were up to me, I’d watch FP fry in the electric chair.” Mrs. Blossom said.

“We need this sordid chapter closed forever, and FP is the last loose end to tie up.” Cheryl raised her voice.

“I will not have a living, breathing reminder of the darkest chapter of my life walking the streets of Riverdale.” She finished. There was no use in convincing them so we left.

“What do we do now that Cheryl’s gone all Poison Ivy?” I asked as we walked away from the house.

“Blackmail. Extortion. If they weren’t literally an orphan and a widow, I would do it.” Jughead sighed. I have to help him out, I have to help FP out. I know FP and I know he’s not a bad guy, he doesn’t deserve this.

The two of us went home and I went to bed. The next morning I got up and got dressed. I decided to put in a little more effort today. I put on a band tank top, black jeans, a plaid jacket, black beanie, and a cute pair of shoes. Archie and I walked to school and everything was normal.

The school day had ended, and cheer practice had ended as well; I knew Cheryl always stayed late so I went to the locker room. I shut the door causing Cheryl to turn around startled.

“Give a girl a warning will you?” She said tossing a mirror in her locker.

“You want closure, Cheryl?” I asked walking closer to her.

“I want to help my boyfriend’s dad.” I said.

“I already told you-”

“And I’m telling you to help FP or-”

“Or what?” She cut me off.

“Or I wide-release the video of your father shooting Jason.” I smirked.

“Try having closure with that out in the world.” I said. Wow I’m horrible right now… It’s for Jughead. It’s for Jughead.

“I thought you gave the damned thumb drive to Sheriff Keller?” She said nervously.

“No, not before I saved a copy onto Jughead’s laptop.” I moved in a bit closer.

“One click, and the darkest chapter of your family’s twisted psychodrama becomes a viral sensation.” I said.

“Are you threatening me?” Cheryl asked shocked.

“This? No this is just fun girl talk.” I smiled.

“You could save a man’s life. Think about it, a nice end to a sad story.” I said and Cheryl contemplated for a second.

“If I testify, you’re giving me that video. And a guarantee that any and all copies in your possession will be erased.” She said.

“You have my word.” I said and turned to walk away but turned back.

“Oh, and you let Betty have the Vixens for Retro Night.” I added.

“You’re a stone cold bitch Y/N Andrews.” Cheryl smirked and I left.

It was the day of the trial and I was sitting next to Jughead watching as Cheryl talked.

 “Ms. Blossom, you may proceed with your statement.” The judge said.

“Your Honor, I speak for myself and my mother when I say we forgive FP Jones for the part he played in covering my brother’s murder, we humbly ask the court for leniency. FP’s guilt has been blown out of proportion to satiate what my father’s suicide denied us…closure.”Cheryl said.

“As much as I sympathize, I can’t ignore the quality of Mr. Jones’ crimes. There were no extenuating circumstances.” The judge said. Cheryl thought for a second and I raised an eyebrow at her.

“My father threatened him.” She said quickly.

“I overheard them talking in daddy’s study. Daddy said he would hurt Jughead if FP didn’t comply.” Everyone stared at her shocked.

“Is that extenuating enough?” She asked.

“In light of these revelations, I suggest that we take a step back and reevaluate certain aspects of the case. At which time, we will revisit the sentencing. Adjourned.” Everyone gathered their things and FP turned around making Jug stand up.

“Is that a win?” FP asked.

“It’s a delay. So yeah.” Jughead said. I smiled as the two of them hugged.

Jughead was at Pop’s trying to save the dinner, I want to be there to help but I don’t know if I can go back there. I was sitting in my room working on homework when Archie came in.

“Hey, sis.” He said.

“Hey Arch, what’s up?” I asked.

“Do you…do you maybe want to go to Pop’s with me? I feel bad not being there to help out.” I was shocked.

“Arch, I don’t know. I mean I really want to go but I don’t know if I can.” I said with a sigh.

“Neither do I but maybe if we go together it won’t be as bad?” He said. I thought about it, I mean we shouldn’t let one terrible thing ruin our favorite spot right?

“Okay.” I said. I grabbed my jacket and walked to Archie.

“Let’s go.” He smiled.

We walked to Pop’s and when we got there the Pussycats were on the roof singing ‘Milkshake’. I smiled a bit, it was a cringy song but it fits so perfectly with the cause. We walked in and Veronica greeted us.

“Hey Daddy-O” She smiled at Archie.

“Y/N, Jug is over there.” She said. I smiled and walked behind the counter to hug him.

“Hey, Juggie.” I said.

“Hey Y/N/N, I didn’t think you’d be coming tonight.” He said with a smile.

“I wasn’t, but Archie wanted to and thought it’d be easier if I went as well.” I answered.

“Well, I’m glad you showed up.” He smiled and kissed me.

“Ugh, you two are like chimps in captivity, grooming and picking lice off each other.” Cheryl said. We pulled away and looked at Cheryl who sat down in front of us.

“Hello, Cher.” I smiled, just because I blackmailed her doesn’t mean I’m not her friend. She would have done the same thing if she were in my position.

“Mark this day in your diary. I lied under oath for you. And thank God I’m quick on my feet.” She said.

“Cheryl, thank you.” Jug said handing her the drive.

“Honor your promise to me.” We nodded and she walked off.

Pop Tate gave a speech about how Betty saved the dinner and how the Lodge’s made a donation that would cover any storms that might come. We all sat in a booth enjoying milkshakes.

“Ronnie, should I introduce myself to your dad?” Archie asked.

“You’ve faced enough dragons for one night. Next time, Archiekins.” V said.

“So, I guess tonight is a win for the good guys.” Betty smiled.

“A rare win, but yes.” Jug said.

“Thanks to you Betty.” I added. Archie was looking out the window and he looked uncomfortable, I was too but I know how to hide my feelings pretty well.

“You okay?” V asked.

“I’m here with you guys. So, yeah.” He said. Something was up with him but I knew it had to do with what happened to us.

Jughead walked me home because Archie wanted to talk to Reggie for a bit. I was working on the rest of the homework I had left when I got a call.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Y/N.”

“FP? What’s wrong?” I asked shocked.

“Jug, he went to see Penny.” He said and my eyes widened.

“What?” I asked shocked.

“You didn’t know?”  He asked.

“No, he told me he was going to talk to another lawyer but he never gave names.” I said. “He didn’t pay her, I told him not to contact her again but we both know she’ll try to get him so I need to you do whatever favor she asks him got it?” He said and I sighed.

“FP, I told you I can’t join the Serpents. If my dad or Archie found out-”

“You don’t have to join just please do whatever favor she needs.” I sighed knowing I would regret this later.

“Fine…” I said.

“Thank you.” FP said and hung up. I grabbed my jacket once again and rushed out of the house. I walked into the tattoo shop and a few Serpents were there.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Ace asked.

“Where’s Penny.” I demanded.

“Where she always is.”He answered. I walked in her office.

“Y/N, what a surprise, what can I do for you?” Penny asked with a smirk.

“Stay away from Jughead.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Whatever favor you think he owes you, you can call me and I’ll be doing it.” I added. She smirked.

“FP call you huh? Even in jail, he’s still trying to keep his boy out of this mess.” She said.

“You will stay away from him and come to me for whatever you want got it?” I said through grit teeth.

“Thought you weren’t going to be apart of Serpent business?” She said with a smirk.

“I’m not, I’m just doing FP a favor.” I glared.

“Sounds like you’re a Serpent to me.” I growled and stormed out to go home. What did I just get myself into?

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[chiseler]

THE DARK SIDE OF ROBERT WISE

When it comes to lists of great American directors, Robert Wise far too often swoops below the radar. Like Billy Wilder, he made films in nearly every conceivable genre, from horror and science fiction to romantic comedies, Westerns, wartime dramas, lavish musicals, even a big budget disaster movie. Also like Wilder, he provided most of those genres with not only hugely popular, but iconic entries (The Day the Earth Stood Still, The Haunting, The Sound of Music, etc.). But unlike Wilder, he never pandered to his audience, and in most instances shied away from hammering them over the head with messages. The problem is, with rare exception nobody ever seems to remember that Wise was the one who directed these films. Part of that may be because, as the general consensus has it, he had no signature style or trademark visual flourishes. Even after working as an editor on Citizen Kane and an uncredited second unit director on The Magnificent Ambersons, his own films would never be confused with Welles’. He was a storyteller, first and foremost, and one of the best to come out of the major Hollywood studios. He was also, in his own quiet way, far more radical and influential than most viewers realize.

When it comes to notable noir directors, Wise is rarely if ever considered among the likes of Raoul Walsh, Edward Dmytryk, Joseph Lewis, Joseph Losey, Delmer Daves, even Welles, Fritz Lang or  John Huston. But over a career that spanned some sixty years, roughly one-fifth of the forty movies he directed could be considered noir films, far more than any other single genre in which he dabbled.  

Wise got his start in the late ’30s as an editor at RKO, where he worked with Welles on Kane and Ambersons before teaming with producer Val Lewton. In 1944, he co-directed Curse of the Cat People, the almost completely unrelated sequel to the dark and atmospheric 1942 original. About a week after production began on Lewton’s The Body Snatcher the following year, he brought Wise in again to take over the directing duties. It would be Wise’ first solo directing credit, and though he later admitted to being quite nervous about getting tossed into an uncomfortable position as replacement director, the solid confidence of the storytelling, the sharp editing, and even the performances he got would become hallmarks of his work down the line. It’s interesting to note, at the very moment Wise was learning his craft, the influence German Expressionism would have not only on Welles and Lewton, but  both the American horror films of the ’30s and ’40s as well as the crime dramas that would begin to emerge after WWII. It’s also interesting to note that The Body Snatcher itself danced the line between horror and noir. Although marketed at the time and remembered today as a horror film (it co-starred Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi after all, and had a shocker of an ending), in retrospect the film, loosely based on the Burke and Hare case, really plays in many ways more like a period noir film about murder, betrayal, blackmail, shadowy pasts and a sinister underground operation than a standard horror movie of the era. All the monsters here are human, and an innocent young medical student gets dragged unwittingly into some mighty sordid goings-on.

While other proto-noir films like, say, Stranger on the Third Floor had been released prior to this, it’s worth noting, unheralded as he remains, Wise’s position at that very horror/noir crux.

Although the public tends to reflexively think of Warner Brothers when it comes to noir pictures, they were much slicker, much brighter, and tended to have much larger budgets and more star power than the post-war crime dramas coming out of Columbia, Paramount, or especially RKO. Because RKO was smaller, with smaller budgets, fewer big contract stars and name directors, they actually released more noir films than Warners, as crime films could be churned out quickly and cheaply, and didn’t need lavish sets or big production crews. The crime films coming out of RKO were leaner, tougher, and because they remained under the radar, could get away with a lot more.

In 1946, a year after The Body Snatcher, Wise would direct his first straight crime film, Criminal Court, with Tom Conway, Robert Armstrong, and Steve Brody. The reliable but unremarkable Conway plays a lawyer who is planning to run for district attorney. Everything’s fine and dandy until he accidentally kills a local gangster and tries to cover it up. The twist comes when we learn the gangster owned the nightclub where the lawyer’s girlfriend worked as a singer. Right when it looks like the lawyer’s gotten away with murder, the cops pin the murder on his girlfriend. It’s a fairly standard B crime melodrama. Despite the tutelage of both Welles and Lewton, Wise avoided most of what would later become the expected cliches of the noir formula, especially in terms of the camera work. Later in his life, he would denounce those directors who played around with the camera too much—using weird angles or moving the camera unnecessarily—saying such things called attention to the mechanics of filmmaking and took the audience out of the picture. True to form he concentrates on the script and editing to tell the story at hand, about a man who makes a mistake and quickly finds himself in way over his head.

In an odd way, it was with 1947’s Born to Kill—an A film for RKO designed to establish Lawrence Tierrney as a matinee idol—that Wise at once solidified what might be seen as his own style while at the same time distancing himself from the other, more recognized noir directors of the day.

The story, in a nutshell, concerns the torrid and doomed love affair between a psychotic serial killer (Tierney) and a ruthless sociopath (Claire Trevor). Looking back now, 1947 remains perhaps the most singularly golden year of the noir era, with the releases of Out of the Past, Lady from Shanghai, Pick-Up on South Street, Dead Reckoning, Dark Passage, Raw Deal, and so very many others. But a part from the story, the psychology, the characters and the actors (the cast also includes Elisha Cook, Esther Howard, Phillip Terry and Walter Slezak), Wise avoids all the standard conventions of noir stylistics. There are no self-conscious camera angles, deep focus, or lighting tricks. There are no voiceovers or flashbacks. There aren’t even any rain-slick streets to count on. It’s just a tale of terrible people doing terrible things and meeting terrible ends. And though based on an earlier novel, the brutality, cruelty and simple nihilism at play here, more than most other noir films of the time, presaged the second generation of more nihilistic hardboiled pulp writers who would begin to emerge in the 1950s. In fact even calling it a noir film, as such things have come to be understood, might be pushing it a bit, if what you’re looking for is set dressing. It exists as a radical departure from its contemporaries, and points up Wise as a man who could work comfortably in any genre, but in his own subtle and unique way, and by his own playbook.

Wise’s next film, ’49’s The Set-Up, was an even more radical departure from the norm. On the surface it’s just another boxing movie about an aging, broken down third-rate boxer named Stoker (Robert Ryan), who believes he’s always been just one punch away from a title shot. But unlike other boxing films from the time, like Champion or Body and Soul, there’s nothing Romantic about it. It doesn’t end with a big, glitzy championship match at Madison Square Garden and a rousing, victorious climax. All the action takes place in and around a small and dumpy arena in Paradise City, and Ryan’s redemptive moment doesn’t take the form of a title bout, but just one more low-rent match in a long string of low-rent matches.

There is definitely a story and drama at play here, but the film, including all the side characters, takes the form of an allegory about the endless struggle that is daily life for most people. Paradise City is where people end up when they’ve completely run out of luck. In fact the losers who populate the film are a little too dirty, a little too lost in what may be seen as a hyper-naturalistic way. Ryan’s Stoker Thompson is a man who’s doomed without knowing he’s doomed, and he’s doomed in one way or another whichever way he turns come the end of the film.

The truly radical move Wise made here, though, and it was almost unheard of at the time, was to let the film play out in real time. The picture opens at 9:05, and we follow everything that happens not only to Stoker, but to everyone he encounters over the next 72 minutes. There are no flashbacks, no cutaway asides, just a panorama of storylines that unravel over the course of a single evening in a dingy fight club in a two-bit town. Yet thanks to the script and the performances, we come to know and understand all these characters intimately. In another fairly radical move for the time, there is no musical score, save for the ringing of the bell, and whatever music may be playing at a nearby arcade or on the street, It’s a gorgeous masterpiece, brilliantly edited and loaded with telling images which feed the allegory (like a man playing a claw game), and ends with one of the most brutal and realistic fights ever to appear in a Hollywood film.

It would be Wise’s last film for RKO, and the last film he would edit himself. It would also be the last noirish picture he would make for nearly a decade. During that stretch between 1945 and 1949 he’d made a few other pictures—costume dramas, Westerns, even a remake of The Most Dangerous Game—but always returned to dark crime dramas. Beginning in 1950, as he started moving around the other major studios, it was almost as if he made a conscious decision to stay away from crime films, hopscotching from Westerns to comedies to romances to newspaper dramas to war films to the corporate boardroom skullduggery of Executive Suite and the groundbreaking (in so many ways) science fiction of The Day the Earth stood Still.

After scoring a major hit with the all-star submarine drama Run Silent, Run Deep, in 1958 Wise again returned to noir. By then noir was all but dead as a genre, so much so that I’d still argue Stanley Kubrick’s The Killing, released two years earlier, worked as both homage and satire on a form that had run its course. Maybe realizing this, or maybe simply approaching the material as he always had, Wise brought a number of subtle twists to I Want to Live!. For one, the script was based on a true story, or more specifically on a series of newspaper articles about (and letters written by) Barbara Graham, who was convicted of murder and sent to the gas chamber in California in June of 1955. Moreover, while the film makes it clear Graham (Susan Hayward) was the victim of a frame-up and wrongly convicted, mostly on account of her loose morals, unlike most such films that would find her exonerated in the last reel, Wise closes the film with her execution. Most telling of all,while there are a few flashy sequences here (I’m thinking in particular of Hayward surrendering to the cops), he mostly approaches the material as naturalistically as he had the world of low-rent boxing in The Set-Up. In that earlier case, and after a great deal of research, he laid bare just how ugly, sad, and brutal that world can be, and here he takes that clear-eyed view one step further, by actually bringing the camera into the gas chamber and laying bare the mechanics of state-sponsored execution in a way that had never been seen before. The fact that it’s presented in such a cold, clinical, documentary style, without a dramatic swell in the music or quick cuts to the shocked witnesses in the gallery leaves it that much more shocking and disturbing. Audiences unfamiliar with Graham’s story at the time were undoubtedly expecting her last-minute vindication, but they didn’t get it. Even accepting that, though, they would never have expected Wise to actually show the execution itself in that much detail, but, well, he did, and did so without calling attention to himself.

A year later in 1959 noir was even deeper in the grave, and Wise used his last crime film as a way of hearkening back over the genre’s history, but with a contemporary angle and some rare stylistic flashes that are anything but noirish. It’s at heart a simple and straightforward heist picture, with Dave Burke (Ed Begley) hiring two ex-cons to help him pull off the proverbial easy bank job that could net each of them a cool $50,000 in small bills. Both men are down on their luck, both are having domestic problems, and one’s in deep to a local bookie. There are distinct and deliberate nods to The Asphalt Jungle, The Killing, and about four dozen other films that preceded it. The contemporary twist here is that the one with the gambling problem is Harry Belafonte, and the other, Earle (Robert Ryan again, in the Sterling Hayden role) is an angry and unapologetic racist. When you get right down to it, actually, both Belafonte’s Johnny and Ryan’s Earle are deeply racist, though they express it in different ways. In any case, it throws a bit of a monkey wrench into any hopes things might run smoothly. And no, in proper noir fashion, things don’t end well for anyone.

What makes the film so memorable, considering we’ve seen it play out so many times before, are the script (Wise was always the first to note the importance of the script) and the performances down the line. Within and on top of the well-worn, even generic storyline, however, Wise allows himself to hold certain shots for an extraordinarily long time, while playing with ambient noise and prolonged silences in anything but a cliched manner. You can’t point at this, or any of his films, and say “this is clearly a Robert Wise film,” but you can still call them great films in which something subtly different is going on.

After Odds Against Tomorrow, Wise went on to make anything but crime films, starting with West Side Story. He made a few more sci-fi films (The Andromeda Strain, Star Trek: The Motion Picture), a couple more horror movies, some comedies, The Sound of Music, The Hindenburg, and lord knows what else. Over his long career he remained a chameleon who perfected a kind of anti-style style, seeing film as a medium in which to tell stories, not showboat.  Although deeply respected, ultimately, buy other directors who noted the confidence and control he had over the image on the screen, he remained mostly invisible to audiences. While he was nominated for countless awards throughout his career (winning his first Oscar for his work on Kane), most were either for his musicals or were lifetime achievement awards, and most of those were presented  by European critics. Although The Set-Up won the Grand Prize at Cannes in 1949, the film was mostly panned in the states by critics who much preferred that other, much more crowd-pleasing boxing picture with Kirk Douglas.

Yes American audiences loved his big, bright musical fantasies, but when he went down in the gutter with the losers, the sociopaths, all those people who didn’t have a goddamn chance, and when he did so without following the prevailing conventions, well, that’s another story. In retrospect now, and putting the lie to so many self-satisfied critics and so-called experts, Wise’s crime films proved definitively that noir was much more a question of tone and mood and psychology than a checklist of technical aesthetic points.

by Jim Knipfel

[motorcyclegirlfriends]

Not sure this counts as a Sunshine Sundays thought, but since watching Kara fight so bravely even when she couldn't use her superpowers at the end of 3.09 I thought about Alura saying Kara has the heart of a hero even before she had powers. I think long before Alura had to put Kara in that pod she realized the future of Krypton was going to be bleak and Kara would have to be braver than her parents to help save it. Even without superpowers, Kara was meant to be the hero of Krypton.

Listen, I love this topic, and thus it’s perfect for Sunshine Sunday.

I made a post two weeks ago demonstrating (though not deconstructing) Kara’s internalization of Alura’s emphasis on Kara being a hero, but I haven’t really touched upon Alura’s motivations.

There isn’t a terrible mass of information about Alura, but so far the picture they’ve painted is of someone rather… unrelenting in her morality. 

She was “sort of a lawyer” and we saw that she was willing to sacrifice her sister for her values. And we saw her prioritize Kara’s duties (protecting Kal, being ‘extraordinary’) in their final moments together, rather than Kara’s safety or happiness.  

Alura “always” said Kara had the heart of a hero—this was something she often mentioned. Kara and Alura used to pray together, “Rao, protect us so that we might protect others.”

So that we might protect others. Not so they’ll live a happy life, or will be safe or loved, but so that they may protect others.

Now here’s where it’s difficult to distinguish between Kryptonian culture as a whole and Alura’s value system in particular. 

One way to read it is that Alura emphasized the parts of Kryptonian culture that she connected to, another is that she was particularly devout in the beliefs that they all were taught to share.

Either way, Alura was the lens through which Kara perceived Krypton, and so much of what she believes about Krypton will be a reflection of her parents (if what we’ve seen so far is any indication, usually Alura). And perhaps much of what she thinks about Alura is a reflection of her Kryptonian beliefs.

a.k.a. I’m just going to accept what we’ve seen from Alura to be fully Alura-true rather than consider it in relation to Krypton’s base moral scale, because from a human perspective—it is what it is.

So for Alura, Krypton comes first. Right comes first.

Love comes second.

It sounds cold, and it certainly left Kara with her share of complexes, but it’s not far off from the value system our hero shares. 

(I think perhaps Kara just fights harder to have both and is less… lawful. Less valuing of concepts above people. For Kara, It’s concretely about how many people she can save. She’d never, for instance, leave her daughter to face the universe alone to because she felt the need to atone for her sins.)

When Alura sent Astra away, she knew what they were facing, but we weren’t given a timeline for when that was or if she had known before that moment. And in that moment, she believed she could save Krypton.

And Alura would talk about Kara’s hero heart before her falling out with Astra.

So it isn’t necessarily true that Alura had Krypton’s imminent destruction in mind when encouraging heroic qualities in Kara (though it’s possibility may have haunted her—I don’t think she truly believed it would happen until much later). But it is very likely she was shaping Kara to be a leader, a force for good for a world which had darknesses that she was intimately aware of due to her position.

So yes, Alura was shaping Kara to be braver than her parents. To fix the mistakes they had made—were making. 

Yes, Kara was always meant to be a hero of Krypton.

Alura was just meant to be around to see it.

[yourdailykitsch]

Before it became the location famous for the cost-effective, shabby-turned-chic homes seen on HGTV's "Fixer Upper," Waco, Texas, was perhaps best known for the bungled 51-day siege near the city by federal law enforcement of cult leader David Koresh's Branch Davidian compound, which ended in tragedy in spring 1993.

A new Paramount Network six-part miniseries aims to remind viewers of — or, depending on their age, introduce them to— the harrowing standoff as the 25th anniversary nears.

"Waco" chronicles the days leading up to and the eventual storming of the apocalyptic religious sect's homestead by federal agents. The raid culminated in a deadly fire; in the end, four federal agents and more than 70 Branch Davidian members, including 17 children under age 10, died. In the months that followed, probes into the standoff called into question the tactics and judgment of federal officials on the case.

"Friday Night Lights" alum Taylor Kitsch stars as the charismatic cult leader, while Oscar-nominated actor Michael Shannon ("The Shape of Water," "Nocturnal Animals") plays FBI negotiator Gary Noesner.

The miniseries, which premieres Wednesday, is a key property helping to shape the identity of the Paramount Network, a rebranding of Viacom's male-skewing Spike channel that launched last week, as a general entertainment destination. And it underscores how television programmers are eager to get a piece of the true-crime frenzy gripping viewers.

"The story of Waco is very important, historically, and very compelling," said Keith Cox, the network's president of development and programming. "For us, as we rebrand... it was the perfect piece that we think will really speak to an audience… People love true crime. They just make for really gripping, emotional and riveting storytelling."

(The miniseries has had its own complicated history. The Weinstein Co. was one of its producers, but the producing credits were removed in wake of the sexual harassment and rape allegations leveled against Harvey Weinstein.)

For writers John Erick Dowdle and Drew Dowdle, whose film credits include 2015's "No Escape" and 2010's "Devil," the journey to telling the story of the infamous standoff began four years ago as they were trying to flesh out a villain for an unrelated film script.

"We thought, 'What if he grew up in a cult, like the Branch Davidians?'" John Erick recalled. That led them to a book by David Thibodeau, one of the sect's surviving members, titled "A Place Called Waco."

"Five pages into it," John Erick said, "I called Drew and was like, 'You have to read this.' It was totally different than what I remembered of the news accounts." They quickly came to the realization that unpacking the true story would be more compelling than their fiction.

"We find that people over the age of 35 tend to remember a distorted version of what really happened, the media narrative of the time," Drew said. "And people under the age of 35 largely don't know about it at all, or they've heard it loosely referenced. It was a story that was running the risk of being permanently erased in the history books in a distorted, untrue version. And to some extent, we wanted to tell a more balanced version of it."

The brothers knew they wanted to go beyond the news reports, because in their view, one of the major failures of the media was its distance from the action.

The duo interviewed agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms and the FBI, as well as theologians, lawyers and surviving Branch Davidian members in an attempt to offer both an inside view of what unfolded and multiple perspectives of the entities that battled it out over the nearly two- month ordeal. The pair also relied on "Stalling for Time: My Life as an FBI Hostage Negotiator," a book written by Noesner, for insight into the perspective of authorities. Both Thibodeau and Noesner served as consultants on the miniseries.

The Dowdles' goal was to present a "no bad guys" account that would challenge the preconceptions of viewers.

"What we're saying is there's not one right side — it's not the FBI or the ATF or the Branch Davidians who are the bad guys," Drew said. "All three of those entities had complicated situations. It led to some very poor decisions, for sure."

"We wanted to see why people do the things they do," added John Erick.

For Kitsch, that meant not making a judgment call on whether Koresh was a stone-cold psychopath or a disturbed man with a troubled childhood in search of purpose.

"You didn't know what you were getting," Kitsch said. "That was fun to play, because I could turn a whole scene around if I wanted to, and it would be justifiable, because that guy wore his heart on his sleeve and was very emotional and manipulative. He was incredibly loving at times, and then at times just no bueno [not good]...I don't think you'll ever fully understand the why."

The actor, whose other credits include HBO's "True Detective" and "Lone Survivor," says he immersed himself in all-things Koresh in the four months he had to prepare for the role, poring over hundreds of hours of video and recruiting tapes, as well as peppering Thibodeau with questions. In addition to shedding 30 pounds, Kitsch took guitar and singing lessons — Koresh was a skilled musician who led a band made up of his followers — and studied the Bible.

Shannon, who relied heavily on Noesner's book and discussions with the since-retired FBI agent, chose not to try an impersonation, since it was futile — the men are very different physically, he said, "I don't think anyone would ever mistake me for Gary Noesner." Instead, his focus was trying to capture how Noesner's mind ticked, the way he approached his work and the different emotions that resulted from the stressful situations in which he operated.

"It wasn't easy what Gary had to do — that's an understatement," said Shannon, currently appearing in the staging of Brett Neveu's "Traitor" in Chicago. "The challenge of negotiating with David was big enough on its own. But Gary was getting thwarted and second-guessed by his own co-workers, which made it doubly difficult… I was completely fascinated by that."

In attempting to create a mutli-dimensional portrait of all the players, the brothers have been criticized by those who believe they underplay the allegations of child abuse, including statutory rape, made against Koresh and the sect's members.

The Dowdles acknowledge that they don't spend a lot of time exploring the topic, in part because it was "tricky" — while they believe that Koresh, who operated with an Old Testament mind-set, was guilty of statutory rape, they felt that other reports of physical abuse were overblown or inconclusive.

The Waco standoff has been the subject of various film and TV projects through the years but has resurfaced in recent months with the approach of the 25th anniversary. Koresh was one of the many leaders Evan Peters portrayed in the cult-focused season of "American Horror Story" that wrapped its run in November. And it has prompted a number of specials, including the upcoming A&E documentary "Waco: Madman or Messiah."

Cox said viewers too young to remember the events — Kitsch, for example, was 11— or not yet born, will still be intrigued.

"It was a huge event in American history," he said. "But if you don't know it, you're going to find yourself getting on the computer and Googling.'

The last installment will be shown on Feb. 28, the 25th anniversary of the start of the siege. With more than two decades of hindsight, what is the legacy of the deadly tragedy?

"I think it's a pretty terrible one," Kitsch said. "It's something that people can't forget about, but want to kind of just sweep it under the rug… what I've taken away is: Don't be so quick to just formulate an opinion on, like, a headline or something — know the source, know where it's coming from."

[fanfics-for-you-too-blog]

I’ll Protect You Part 2

A/N: I was going to do episode 2 and 3 in this part but this came out longer that I thought it would so here you go part 2! (Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Part 1 here! 

Jughead x Andrews!reader

Word count: 2,093

Warning(s): A few curse, Spoilers for Riverdale season 2 episode 2

Y/N- Your Name

I walked downstairs because I couldn’t sleep, every time I close my eyes all I can see are those green eyes. I was going to make myself a cup of tea but I found a sleeping Archie sitting on a box with a baseball bat. “Arch?” I gently shake him and he instantly holds the bat up. “ Hey, It’s just me!” “Y/N? Sorry.” He puts the bat down. “What are you doing up Arch?” “I could ask you the same thing.” “I couldn’t sleep, I was going to make a cup of tea. All I can see are those eyes…” I sigh. Archie hugged me. “I’m going to protect you and dad.” “Is that why you’re up?” He nodded. Before I could tell him how he needs sleep we heard footsteps coming towards our back door. Archie grabbed the bat and pushed me behind him, he slowly made his way to the door when Jughead opened it walking in. “Whoa, whoa!” “Jughead, are you insane?” Archie asked putting the bat down again. “Hey, you’re the one that looks like a Dream Warrior from Nightmare on Elm Street 3.” Jug said sitting down, I sat next to him. “What’d the lawyer say?” I asked, he sighed. “I’ve been walking around all night trying to wrap my head around how bad it is. It’s bad.” “My dad is facing 20 years…” I warped my arm around him just to give him some form of comfort. “Crap, Jughead, I’m sorry. That sucks.” Archie said. “”The lawyer thinks he should take the deal. And that is he doesn’t, and the case goes to trial, he could be facing 40 years.” Jughead’s voice trembled a bit. “I’m just really, really scared.” I could tell Jug was holding back tears.

The next day at school we were all sitting in class waiting for the teacher when Principal Weatherbee walked in. “May I have everyone’s attention? I have some tragic news to share.” A few students looked at each other and there were a few whispers. “Ms. Grundy, who was a teacher here last semester, was found murdered in her Greendale home last night.” I looked at Archie and I knew this was going to be hard for him. “I know some of you were students of hers, and that this news will be difficult to process.” Archie got up and rushed out the room. I got up and followed him I knew he was going home.

I sat in the living room with my dad and Archie pacing around. “First, you get shot. Then, Ms. Grundy is murdered. All within a matter of days.” “Dad what if some crazy person is going after the people I care about?” Archie stopped pacing and stared at us. “What? You think I’m nuts?” “No son, I think you’re scared. Understandably so. Truth is, we don’t know anything about what happened to Ms. Grundy.” “She’s dead, She was killed! Right across Sweetwater River!” “I know. It was a horrible thing.” “Dad’s right Arch, we don’t know what happened to her, It could be totally unrelated.” I said. I knew the odds of this being unrelated were slim and that Archie was probably right. I spent the rest of the night doing my homework and try ignoring what was happening.

Jug called me that night telling me about his plan to get Cheryl and her mother to testify for leniency. “It’s not exactly downsizing, is it?” He said as we walked up to the house. “Hobo. Y/N. Welcome to Thistlehouse.” Cheryl said as we entered the house. “Mother’s in the conservatory. Follow me.” We all sat down at a large table and to say it was a bit uncomfortable was an understatement. “Thank you for sitting down with us.” I said. “Of course, Y/N.” Cheryl smiled. “Okay, so the reason we’re here…” “FP’s lawyer thinks that if the of the victim shows mercy-” “Mercy. That’s why you’re here.” Mrs. Blossom cut me off. “Well, it’s an appeal for leniency, from you.” Jughead said looking at both Mrs. Blossom and Cheryl. “To reduce my dad’s sentence.” Jug finished. “Where was your father’s mercy when I spent those countless nights walking the halls of Thornhill in agony, obsessing over what happened to Jay-Jay? Imagining the worst. Where was your father’s mercy when I slept under the same roof as a cold-blooded killer, night after night.” Cheryl said cutting Jug off. “Cheryl, FP didn’t kill Jason. Okay? That was your dad. You saw the video.” I pointed out. “If it were up to me, I’d watch FP fry in the electric chair.” Mrs. Blossom said. “We need this sordid chapter closed forever, and FP is the last loose end to tie up.” Cheryl raised her voice. “I will not have a living, breathing reminder of the darkest chapter of my life walking the streets of Riverdale.” There was no use in convincing them so we left. “What do we do now that Cheryl’s gone all Poison Ivy?” I asked as we walked away from the house. “Blackmail. Extortion. If they weren’t literally an orphan and a widow, Ii would do it.” Jughead sighed. Ii have to help him out, I have to help FP out. I know FP and I know he’s not a bad guy, he doesn’t deserve this.

The school day had ended, and cheer practice had ended as well; I knew Cheryl always stayed late so I went to the locker room. I shut the door causing Cheryl to turn around startled. “Give a girl a warning will you?” She said tossing a mirror in her locker. “You want closure, Cheryl?” I asked walking closer to her. “I want to help my boyfriend’s dad.” “I already told you-” “And I’m telling you to help FP or-” “Or what?” “Or I wide-release the video of your father shooting Jason.” I smirked. “Try having closure with that out in the world.” “I thought you gave the damned thumb drive to Sheriff Keller?” “No, not before I saved a copy onto Jughead’s laptop.” I moved in a bit closer. “One click, and the darkest chapter of your family’s twisted psychodrama becomes a viral sensation.” “Are you threatening me?” “This? No this is just fun girl talk.” I smiled. “You could save a man’s life. Think about it, a nice end to a sad story.” Cheryl contemplated for a second. “If I testify, you’re giving me that video. And a guarantee that any and all copies in your possession will be erased.” “You have my word.” I turned to walk away but turned back. “Oh, and you let Betty have the Vixens for Retro Night.” “You’re a stone cold bitch Y/N Andrews.” Cheryl smirked and I left.

I was the day of the trial and I was sitting next to Jughead watching as Cheryl talked. “Ms. Blossom, you may proceed with your statement.” “Your Honor, I speak for myself and my mother when I say we forgive FP Jones for the part he played in covering my brother’s murder, we humbly ask the court for leniency. FP’s guilt has been blown out of proportion to satiate what my father’s suicide denied us...closure.” “As much as I sympathize, I can’t ignore the quality of Mr. Jones’ crimes. There were no extenuating circumstances.” Cheryl thought for a second and I raised an eyebrow at her. “My father threatened him.” She said quickly. “I overheard them talking in daddy’s study. Daddy said he would hurt Jughead if FP didn’t comply.” Everyone stared at her shocked. “Is that extenuating enough?” She asked. “In light of these revelations, I suggest that we take a step back and reevaluate certain aspects of the case. At which time, we will revisit the sentencing. Adjourned.” Everyone gathered their things and FP turned around making Jug stand up. “Is that a win?” FP asked. “It’s a delay. So yeah.” I smiled as the two of them hugged.

Jughead was at Pop’s trying to save the dinner, I want to be there to help but I don’t know if I can go back there. I was sitting in my room working on homework when Archie came in. “Hey, sis.” “Hey Arch, what’s up?” “Do you...do you maybe want to go to Pop’s with me? I feel bad not being there to help out.” I was shocked. “Arch, I don’t know. I mean I really want to go but I don’t know if I can.” “Neither do I but maybe if we go together it won’t be as bad?” I thought about it, I mean we shouldn’t let one terrible thing ruin our favorite spot right? “Okay.” I grabbed my jacket and walked to Archie. “Let’s go.”

We walked to Pop’s and when we got there the Pussycats were on the roof singing ‘Milkshake’. I smiled a bit, it was a cringy song but it fits so perfectly with the cause. We walked in and Veronica greeted us. “Hey Daddy-O” She smiled at Archie. “Y/N, Jug is over there.” I smiled and walked behind the counter to hug him. “Hey, Juggie.” “Hey Y/N, I didn’t think you’d be coming tonight.” “I wasn’t but Archie wanted to and thought it’d be easier if I went as well.” “Well, I’m glad you showed up.” He smiled and kissed me. “Ugh, you two are like chimps in captivity, grooming and picking lice off each other.” We pulled away and looked at Cheryl who sat down in front of us. “Hello, Cher.” I smiled, just because I blackmailed her doesn’t mean I’m not her friend. She would have done the same thing if she were in my position. “Mark this day in your diary. I lied under oath for you. And thank God I’m quick on my feet.” “Cheryl, thank you.” Jug said handing her the drive. “Honor your promise to me.” We nodded and she walked off.

Pop Tate gave a speech about how Betty saved the dinner and how the Lodge’s made a donation that would cover any storms that might come. We all sat in a booth enjoying milkshakes. “Ronnie, should I introduce myself to your dad?” Archie asked. “You’ve faced enough dragons for one night. Next time, Archiekins.” “So, I guess tonight is a win for the good guys.” Betty smiled. “A rare win, but yes.” Jug said. “Thanks to you Betty.” I added. Archie was looking out the window and he looked uncomfortable, I was too but I know how to hide my feelings pretty well. “You okay?” V asked. “I’m here with you guys. So, yeah.” Something was up with him but I knew it had to do with what happened to us.

Jughead walked me home because Archie wanted to talk to Reggie for a bit. I was working on the rest of the homework I had left when I got a call. “Hello?” “Y/N.” “FP? What’s wrong?” “Jug, he went to see Penny.” “What?” “You didn’t know?” “No, he told me he was going to talk to another lawyer but he never gave names.” “He didn’t pay her, I told him not to contact her again but we both know she’ll try to get him so I need to you do whatever favor she asks him got it?” “FP, I told you I can’t join the Serpents. If my dad or Archie found out-” “You don’t have to join just please do whatever favor she needs.” I sighed knowing I would regret this later. “Fine…” “Thank you.” FP said and hung up. I grabbed my jacket once again and rushed out of the house. I walked into the tattoo shop and a few Serpents were there. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” “Where’s Penny.” I demanded. “Where she always is.” I walked in her office. “Y/N, what a surprise, what can I do for you?” “Stay away from Jughead.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Whatever favor you think he owes you, you can call me and I’ll be doing it.” She smirked. “FP call you huh? Even in jail, he’s still trying to keep his boy out of this mess.” “You will stay away from him and come to me for whatever you want got it?” I said through grit teeth. “Thought you weren’t going to be apart of Serpent business?” “I’m not, I’m just doing FP a favor.” I glared. “Sounds like you’re a Serpent to me.” I growled and stormed out to go home. What did I just get myself into?

[robininthelabyrinth]

AU where Len is the pyromaniac

another one for the short fills. hope you enjoy!

ao3 link

—-

“Hey,” a gentle voice is saying. “Hey. Can you look at me?”

Len doesn’t want to. He just wants to stay here and luxuriate in the glorious feeling of relief he felt. All that tension, all that anger, all locked away deep inside, it needed to be let out - and now it was.

It was -

Wait.

How long has he been here?

Len blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel crusty and sore like he’s had them open too long. He’s dissociating again, most likely.

“Hey. You with me?”

Mick.

Len feels the hot flush of shame. “I did it again,” he says dully. “Didn’t I?”

And he’d tried so hard not to, too…

“Yeah,” Mick says. “It’s okay. You couldn’t help it.”

Mick’s the best, but Len doesn’t deserve him. They’d met in juvie - Mick had saved Len’s ass in juvie, more correctly, and in more ways than just the shiv that’d been heading Len’s way - and Len had made him promise they’d team up again when they were adults. And Mick had kept that promise, tracking Len down years later when he’d finished out his juvie-to-prison term and some of his mandatory probation period, the part before his conviction had been overturned, and between the two of them, they’d scraped up enough for an apartment.

An apartment that Len keeps burning.

Mick says he doesn’t mind. He says it’s all shitty furniture anyway; so no one will notice a few more burn marks. He says that at least Len’s too much of a hypochondriac to be a smoker, so the smoke and the ash don’t have nicotine in them. He says -

He says a lot of things.

But Len knows better.

Mick is terrified of fire - and rightfully so. His whole family burned, suffocated by carbon monoxide, crisped up in flames, burned black and buried under the wooden beams of Mick’s old childhood home.

Mick got blamed for it, sent to juvie for a crime he didn’t commit, and it was only years later, when a lazy and corrupt investigator had been revealed in an unrelated sting and all of his old conclusions reviewed, that they’d found that Mick couldn’t have set the fire and all those years in prison had been for nothing.

See, Mick’s parents were pieces of work, and Len knows what he’s talking about with shitty parents. Len’s own dad beat him half to hell and back when he was a kid, calling it lessons for real life - still did, sometimes, when he was around and not off on some mob job or behind bars, even though Len is mostly smart enough now not to believe him when he said it was for Len’s own good - but at least he didn’t dress it up in religion and make Len an outcast in the community.

Mick’s parents were religious nutjobs, though, and when Mick started acting weird - his dyslexia, high-functioning autism, and childhood epilepsy never properly diagnosed because those assholes didn’t believe in doctors that didn’t use praying - they’d decided he was possessed by evil spirits.

Evil spirits that needed to be frozen out in the giant-ass meat locker with the time lock they kept in their basement.

That was the real reason why Mick had survived the fire that had ravaged his house. Not because he’d been in on it, or because he’d been a coward and run away, but because he’d been locked away down below, shivering, in a temperature-controlled box that the fire couldn’t touch. And then, in the morning, the time lock sprung open - five thirty a.m., time for chores - and Mick had gone upstairs and been found there, standing in the ash.

Years later, when even the most basic examination of the house and interviews with the neighbors revealed this, and also the fact that the fire was clearly the result of some faulty wiring, some asshole social worker’d asked Mick why he hadn’t just told everyone what happened.

Mick had said that he didn’t tell anyone because he didn’t want anyone to know about the evil spirits. He’d rather a fresh start in prison than to go back to how his family had treated him.

Len hates everyone and everything that reminded Mick of those times. He fought anyone who made a joke about exorcisms, and punched door-to-door religious recruiters who probably didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t hate anyone more than he hates himself.

Himself, who lights fires in Mick’s home, where he should be safe from all this.

Len doesn’t even have a good sob story reason for it. Sure, his dad hit him, but it was only to toughen him up (and to get his own anger out on someone who couldn’t fight back - Len gets that now that Mick’s explained it a few dozen times) and there’s no reason, no reason he should be starting fires all the time just to relieve that endless anxiety that always hovers over him – endless, always present, but for when he lights his fires.

Mick gets all tight-lipped when Len says that, though. Mick says that breaking a kid’s arm and locking him in his room with no lights except a box of matches the kid stole earlier is enough. He says kicking a kid out of the house on winter nights so cold that Len only survived by burying himself under snow and sleeping next to lit-up garbage cans is enough. He says that making Len learn how to cook all by himself on their stupid finicky old gas stove that never caught right when he was only five because no one else was going to feed him now that his mom was dead, and again when he was eight because no one else was heating up milk and formula to feed the baby, is enough of a reason to make anyone go to the flames for comfort, because they sure weren’t getting it anywhere else.

Len’s still not sure it’s as bad as Mick makes it sounds - his dad always called ‘em lessons, lessons that Len’s spent most of his life trying to keep Lisa from learning - but he’s stopped arguing about it.

It’s the least he can do, since he can’t seem to actually stop lighting the fires.

“- something to eat?” Mick is saying. He’s put out the small fire Len started, and he’s cleaning up the table.

Looks like Len’s lost some time, which happens sometimes but especially after he lights up, but since Mick’s still talking, it couldn’t have been too long.

“Sure,” Len says. “Anything you like.”

Mick opens his mouth.

“That isn’t salad,” Len adds hastily.

“Salad is good for you,” Mick says with a sniff.

Len feels a stab of guilt. Mick’s always thinking of what’s good for Len.

“We can have salad,” he says. “If you want.”

Mick looks at him with a frown. “I was kidding, Len. I know you hate salad. The only way I get you to eat vegetables is by roasting or sautéing them.”

“You mean when you cast a magic spell on them to make them taste good and not like vegetable.”

“That magic spell is called olive oil and salt,” Mick says dryly. “Maybe a bit of paprika, you have a weird thing for that.”

Paprika, Len assumes, is what makes everything in the oven a cheerful red color. He likes that color.

“Len, what’s the matter?” Mick asks.

“Nothing’s the matter!” Len says immediately, on the defensive even though he doesn’t need to be.

Mick just looks at him.

“Why do you think something’s the matter?” Len tries.

“You just agreed to eat salad if I wanted.”

…a fair point.

“Also, you usually start fires in the tires in the backyard, not the living room -”

Len starts guiltily. He hadn’t known that Mick knew about the tires.

“- which means you were freaking out pretty bad when you got home. What happened?” Mick’s eyes narrow. “Did your dad come by?”

He starts looking Len over for hidden bruises.

“No, he’s still off in Starling,” Len says quickly. “No need to worry.”

“Then what is it?”

Len swallows. He’d been hoping to have some more time to build up to it. “I’ve got us a new job.”

“Good,” Mick says, though he looks a bit confused. They do heists pretty often - they’re reliable enough freelancers that they get hired by crews around the city, though they don’t really have the type of specializations that would get them a job on a permanent thief crew, and the way the split works for junior crew members means they only get so much out of each heist - and it’s not usually a big deal. Nothing to freak out over. “We need to pay next month’s rent and buy enough food, which would be tricky on top of Lisa’s skating lessons -” That’s always top priority, even if it meant going hungry or homeless for a bit. Sure, Mick’s eventually going to get a payout from the city for that whole wrongful conviction thinge, but that was still in progress and in the meantime they still had to pay Mick’s lawyers. “- so a job would be good. Who’s running it?”

“Uh,” Len says, swallowing. “That’s the thing.”

“Not a Family job!”

“No, no! Nothing like that!”

Lewis works with the Families, and as such, Mick won’t have anything to do with them. That always sounded like a reasonable rule to Len, who didn’t like the Families either.

“Then what?”

“Uh,” Len says again, very eloquently. “It’s, uh. It’s me.”

“Huh?” Mick asks, clearly lost.

“It’s - it’s my job,” Len confesses. “No, that doesn’t mean you’re not in on it too -” Mick looked ready to argue for a second there, but the reassurance moves him back to confused. “- it’s, uh. I’m the one running it. The job.”

He braces himself for disapproval. He and Mick have done small things on their own before - ATM robberies, corner store stick-ups - but never a major job. Never anything requiring a crew.

A crew that Len will have to manage and command.

Len - crazy, unstable pyromaniac Len.

Who can’t even keep from starting a fire in his own living room.

God, why the hell did he think this was a good idea again?!

Mick’s going to gently point out that it’s a terrible idea and then they’ll have to figure out how to extract themselves from it after all the promises Len made to the backers and the crew and the fences and -

“Good,” Mick announces. “You’ll be better at it than any of those assholes.”

Len blinks.

“You - really think so?” he says cautiously. “You think I can handle running my own crew?”

“Sure do,” Mick says, so firmly that even Len can’t believe that he’s just humoring Len. “You’re gonna make it big, Lenny. Just you wait.”

Len’s chest hurts, that warm bright sort of hurting that he gets around Mick, the sort that’s even better than the curl of attraction he gets to women and men in the clubs that he goes to when he wants to get laid, because it’s a bit like that and a bit like how he feels when he looks at Lisa, all bursting with pride, and that’s how he knows he’s head-over-goddamn-heels in love with his best friend and criminal partner, because Mick can always make him feel this way with an offhand statement or an expression of faith.

“I’m gonna make you proud,” Len promises, dead serious. No distractions mid-job for him, no sir; he’s going to pull this off. He’s going to be good.

No. He’s going to be great.

They’re going to be great.

“And I’ll be there to watch your back,” Mick replies, equally serious.

Len wouldn’t have it any other way.