The underside of Due South, some cool and some really ugly
#just listened to some of the haggis interview and was surprised by his take that tv characters shouldn't change but remain stagnant#and that was a point of contention between him and marciano who wanted ray to develop as a character#and once again i have to say thank goodness for dm. i am with him completely. characters should always be evolving. like...that's the point#but to haggis' point i guess this was in the early 90s before more serialized tv started to take off and become more prominent#it was still largely episodic where they hit the 'reset button' on characters from episode to episode#so dm was ahead of the curve. lol#it's strange to me because they built such a compelling arc for fraser in s1 especially. i guess it was just a happy accident??#anyway i look forward to checking more of this stuff out
The stuff I've watched and read makes Due South behind the scenes conflicting within me to share or talk about, to say the least. Due South is happy making and positive from a watch perspective I think versus it's actual production grind and wildness, and I'm big on wanting to stay positive and enjoy the show's show-ness not it's rather fractured reasoning or many authorial explanations right now. Too many peeps opinions or intents and ideas. I'm sticking with my own lol.
For the various creators though, I really like/d David Shore. He seems to have taken good writing from his time on the series.
And always love the music choices by Jay Semko & co. Series had great music decisions.
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Paul Haggis and Kathy Slevin as creators: The fallout of both is just sad. Because I believe neither I think. Hollywood has awful, creative but awful, morals and peeps.
She had this really cool blog though that I think goes with a lot of beats they were exploring in the series.
Successful Screenwriting | by Kathy Slevin (wordpress.com)
And the rant one against bro which seems to have disappeared so... yay?
This is sad. Historical to share I think, but ow.
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All throughout childhood, while my peers were socializing and making friends, I studied the blade read so many books that I am now almost legally blind, which left me with vast and deeply instinctual understanding of English grammar - and next to no ability to explain how it actually works. Friends will often ask me to proofread their writing and then get very mad when I say things like, "You need to completely reverse this sentence and cut this clause entirely; no, I'm sorry, i don't know why, I just know that the way it is now ITCHES 😭"
Now, what I want to see is a fantasy story where this plays out with MAGICAL grammar. Someone from a backwater town deeply steeped in folk magic arrives at Wizard Uni where all their fellow students are like "What do you mean, we should add another '𝞯∘⋇𝞿' to the incancation because it 'sounds better'? What do you mean, 'it could just be a regional thing'?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'THIS SPELL JUST FEELS LIKE IT NEEDS A LIVE RAT'????"
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So I spent all day writing Victoria's Secret AUs...it could have been worse edition.
I have an angst problem yo.
Victoria is a ghost
When you are lonely and feel guilty, the mind can offer all kinds of refuges.
Fraser hadn't left his apartment in three days, huddled in like the memory of before, he and Victoria. Except for that brief phone call the consulate had for him, that call that-- No matter, for the roses had appeared that afternoon, in sympathy and get well and provided the perfect reason to go back. The Forget Me Nots. Sick leave he had in abundance after all, so he returned to Victoria's embrace.
Until that night, well past midnight, Ray knocked on the door. Whether it was sleep deprivation or worry Ray too would leave, he made the mistake of inviting him in. “Do you wanna meet her?” and though he'd hestitated, Ray did cross the threshold, like an unseen hand had given him push.
And looked around a disheveled and empty apartment.
“Fraser?”
There was no woman in sight. To his eyes anyways. To Fraser, Victoria sat draped in his bed, an icy smile now gracing her features, as if more proof his guilt was earned eternally.
He leaned against the partition of his bedroom, looking between them both, and as he cracked like the thaw of ice in a pass, laughter bubbling to tears, sinking him into the cold as he sank to the floor despite Ray's efforts to try and catch him in grip, he knew.
“I'm sorry to inform you Constable, a Miss Victoria Metcalfe was killed in an auto crash two months after her release from prison. Her will requested you be informed in case of her death.”
Fraser and Victoria go to Texas
It shouldn't be so easy. Maybe it isn't. Maybe the sun of Austin won't be bright or will burn him out faster than here. But she doesn't care, and he, he can't say no. He'd asked for the transfer, entirely prepared to resign if they'd said no. Moffat had given him an odd look, like pity, but also considering his general problematic work, he was approved. He would use his sick time as leave in interim.
There was hardly anything to pack. His father's trunk, which Victoria assured would fit in a small rented U-Haul. All that was needed for them. Dief could stay in there as well. They'd stop during intervals to check on him. He seemed so displeased, Fraser half considered leaving him here, maybe with Willie?, but couldn't voice it anymore than he could say he'd prefer Dief in the car with them. Yet, Dief was loyal, so he watched and was going along silently, perhaps caged just like his master.
That left Ray. Something, and someone owed alot more than Fraser knew he could ever give.
It had ended as it should have if he'd truly been as cowardly or stupid as when he'd first come to Chicago. As it could've when he'd first left but hadn't really wanted to say goodbye.
A phone call from a payphone, outside the limits of town. Yes, your money is with Mr. Mustafi Ray. I'm sorry, you see, I have to go. I can't let her go. You friendship has meant so much to me. I know it doesn't seem it but...my regrets... I have to...I'll try to keep in touch. Of course, as a friend.
No forwarding address or number ever came.
Victoria and Dief killed by Jolly
The gunshot echoes in the night air. And the second.
He's already winded from chasing Ray, so he doesn't have much head start. The stairs and climb are daunting.
The door is wide open. Dief lays in his pool of blood near the cupboards, near the window leading to the fire escape, also thrown wide.
Victoria's crumpled by the bed, and the ransacked trunk, like she'd made a last ditch effort to retrieve his fire-arm within.
He doesn't bother to check Dief because it doesn't matter does it.
She's clearly dead.
Victoria's lawyer sucks and she goes back to prison
She'd been granted bail on the condition of being watched by two officers of the law. She'd languished in his little hell hole apartment for months untils trial. She'd followed the lawyers advice and dressed demurely and acted contrite and frightened for her life.
She saved her remaining rage for Benton in private. And though it still binds them, it wasn't enough. She's doesn't feel guilty like him.
She'd still refused to say where her portion of the money Jolly was stalking her for went. Root of all her evils, it damns her again.
The sentence is only five years. This time.
Fraser's eyes as he stares at her in shock as she's lead from the court in cuffs, after she'd turned from the verdict to pound his chest, or was it to go for his friend Ray's side arm and end this ... Well, 5 years isn't worth it, but at least he's getting the life sentence.
So damn him and his plea deals.
Fraser doesn't find the key at Ray's house in time
IA had taken ten minutes to get from the station to the Vecchio home. They didn't bother to think on the why of the anonymous call or record it so there will be no way to trace it as evidence later. Perhaps guilty conscious explains why he told on himself. No one will bother to remember it was a call from a woman.
Welsh, Huey and Louey were only two minutes behind. Ray Vecchio flagged by a rookie, who was radio-ed by Elaine, won't even make it to the scene, won't get to see or understand because he'll be redirected. He'll be once again staring at Fraser, blocked by glass, from the other side of the holding cells phones. Fraser won't pick up the receiver to answer him.
So Ray won't know the loss and what little it will be to what could've. Fraser's versus his own imprisonment or loss of bail and home. It's all Fraser feels he can do, but of course Ray doesn't understand him. Fraser doesn't want him to. But still Ray Vecchio sees the sad and forlorn and determined after confession, and refuses anything else.
That full confession makes easy conviction. What IA walking in saw.
A manic faced man amongst the ruins of the Vecchio's house. Rooms upheaved in mad search. A man who seemed caught frozen on the stairwell, phone left dangling over the bannister. Who greeted them with odd, flat words as if spoke to the air;
“I couldn't...I can't find the key.”
And the long poignant pause, his mask slipping on as Welsh stepped through the torn front door, as he finally registered them and added “The key, which I had previously planted. I would like to confess to the murder of Jolly Roberts for money from a former robbery, and attempted framing of my work colleague Ray Vecchio before I could flee with my portion of the cash. I believe cuffs are in order gentlemen.”
He paused again as he stepped through threshold and said to the three former friends standing agape "Can you tell Ray... I'm sorry about the mess."
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