#has smoothed away every flaw or painfully human bit

[quaranmine]

firewatch au is an interesting story because mumbo is such an omnipresent non-character. it doesn't matter if i characterize him correctly or not, because his character isn't ever present to exert change in the story. the only thing that does matter is grian's rosy, absence-defined ideals about who his best friend was. every single thing we learn about mumbo is filtered through like 12 different layers of love and grief and denial until he's on a pedestal so high nobody can see the truth. his character is almost solely defined by what someone else says about him.

in doing this, grian also inadvertantly strips away all the little mistakes and mishaps that are part of mumbo's agency and part of him being a real person until he's perfect. and all this idolization ends up making it worse for grian in the end, because he actively avoids engaging in any theories that suggest mumbo might have made a mistake or gone astray. there's clear dissonance between reality—grian knows mumbo got lost and is searching for him—and the way grian lashes out at anyone who suggests something that clashes with the perfect ideal of mumbo in his head, including getting lost. mumbo should be a character in his own story, but grian won't let him be.

instead he wraps his desire to find mumbo into a weird sort of side quest where he's just as interested in finding someone else to blame as he is finding mumbo. he spends the same amount of time trying to figure out exactly where it all went wrong during the search as he does actually searching for mumbo—even after he knows the general area mumbo was last in! it's a puzzle and he can't put anything to rest until he solves it. he's trying to force logic into everything so he can cope with it. because if he doesn't find someone or something to blame, then he has to face the reality that sometimes things just don't make sense. if it makes sense, he can solve it and fix it. if it doesn't make sense...then he just has to live with it, and he doesn't think he can.

#fw au drinking game! take a shot every time grian says something abt Knowing mumbo or makes a bold statement of what mumbo would/wouldnt do #his mindset is so contradictory at certain points. a lot of what he says doesnt make total sense or falls apart under scrutiny. #and that's on purpose! grian is not a reliable narrator in this fic. he's a guy who is Going Through It who needs help. #theres several parts of the fic where he's so logical about things that it loops back into being illogical #cause he's got huge blindspots he can't/won't look around. he selectively excludes things he doesnt want to think about. #this story is more of a study on grief than it is a mystery :( #also dont get me wrong! i am not saying grian is Always incorrect in his characterization of mumbo. they Were besties ofc #it's just that you have to read everything he says about mumbo with the acknowledgement that his grief #has smoothed away every flaw or painfully human bit #and only left a certain limited picture of mumbo left #combine that with his intense desire to only see things that fit within his set beliefs? you've got a recipe for an unreliable narrator #hc_firewatch_au

[kraviolis]

does it feel like a triumph? - Half-Life

Rating: Teen Relationships: Gordon Freeman/Barney Calhoun Words: 1.7k Additional Tags: Evil Barney, Stream of Consciousness, Post-Episode 2, Guilt, Confessions, Betrayal Content Warnings: Mild Suicidal Ideation, Moderate Self Hate Summary:

Damn it all.

Leave it to Gordon to do the exact opposite of what Barney wants.

AO3 LINK ___________

Every time he looks at Gordon, Barney feels his guts twist painfully. 

Barney’s not even sure Gordon’s doing it on purpose, honestly. He’s just got this look in his eyes. It’s not anger, no, because for some reason no matter what he does Gordon just can’t be mad. It’s not fear, either, because why would The One Free Man be afraid?

It’s love. He can see it plain as day. And the longer he stares, the harder Barney’s heart clenches.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He mutters, grimacing. Gordon’s expression sinks but it’s still there. That adoration. How can he still look at him like that, right now? He doesn’t get it.

It’s not like he can change what he’s done, what he’s going to do. He made a deal with the devil, shook his hand while looking right into his pale blue eyes and said he’d do what was needed. He can’t imagine how Alyx must feel, or Kleiner. They’d be angry, hurt, hissing out insults and trying to escape.

But they aren’t here. Gordon is.

And Gordon won’t look away from him, won’t spare him the gaze of those big, green eyes.

His hands are free from chains (except for a pair of strong handcuffs) but his legs aren’t. Barney wanted him to be able to talk but not get away, just so he could see every jab Gordon would send at him and really feel that guilt.

(Maybe then, he’d find the strength to give this up. Right this wrong.)

(And he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s on the wrong side here, but… this is the only way he can keep them safe. Keep them all safe.)

But instead, Gordon just stares. Stares and stares and stares and he won’t fucking stop and Barney--

“I said stop !” He snaps, baring his teeth down at him. “For pete’s sake, Gordon, would’ya just quit it? ”

Gordon blinks, but looks down. Barney huffs, tightening his grip on his gun.

He watches Gordon clench and unclench his hands, the material of the HEV suit creaking as he does.

“No matter what ya say, I’m not…” He pauses, wets his lips. “I can’t go back. Not anymore. So just… don’t.” Please, God, try to snap me out of this, Gordon.

Gordon stops, lets his arms hang heavy. There’s a lull where nothing happens, just the two of them sitting there listening to the heavy whirr of the HEV suit vents.

Barney wonders what’s going on in Gordon’s head, what complex physics calculations he’s doing to determine how he’s gonna get out. Maybe he’s deciding if he wants to kill him or not. Maybe he’s given up.

He doesn’t want him to. Barney desperately wants Gordon to keep going, keep winning. Even if it means… even if it means he dies.

(Even if it means Gordon is the one to kill him.)

Gordon’s hands move up and Barney prepares himself to fall into his words, fully believing every single thing Gordon says while still putting on a show for the cameras. He can’t find his own willpower to do it without Gordon’s help. That’s all he needs.

(That’s all he’s ever needed.)

“I’m sorry,” Gordon signs, movements slow and jerky. He looks up again, meeting Barney’s eyes. “I love you.”

Barney inhales sharply. A flood of emotion washes over him and he does a little gasp-laugh, surprised and trying not to burst into tears. Goddamnit. Damn it all. Leave it to Gordon to do the exact opposite of what he wants.

He expected Gordon to call him every horrible word under the sun and demand for him to give up and he would’ve done it. He swears he would have.

But now Barney swears under his breath, clenching his jaw and muttering curses at himself and God and that son of a bitch in the suit.

Twenty years. Twenty fuckin’ years he cried himself to sleep while drunk off his ass, dreaming of seeing those words again. Those three tiny, giant words.

It’s not the beautiful hallmark movie moment he wanted. He doesn’t feel ecstatic to see those words. He’s not about to stand on his tiptoes and kiss Gordon in the middle of a summer rainstorm. He doesn’t feel sparks flying, doesn’t have hearts in his eyes.

It's a pain he feels. God, it hurts so fucking bad. His chest is about to rip itself open and he still, still can’t find it in himself to undo this huge goddamn mistake. Gordon just said he loved him and he’s still fucking standing here, pointing a gun at him.

Gordon reaches a hand out, not quite managing to bridge the gap between them. Even as distracted as he is, Gordon isn’t even trying to escape. He’s trying to comfort him. Him, his captor, his enemy, the one who betrayed him and who has betrayed everything he’s ever stood for.

Barney looks to him, anger and guilt and pain mixing into a cruel concoction in his head.

“I’m sorry.” Gordon repeats, and Barney isn’t going to be able to take much more of that look in his eyes. “Can I hold your hand?”

Oh Lord, there’s nothing Barney wouldn’t do for this man, if only he just asked.

Barney doesn’t answer. He just reaches a hand out and Gordon takes it gently in his own, so gently.

He wishes they weren’t separated by two layers of thick gloving, wishes he could feel Gordon’s skin against his. Would it be warm? Or are his hands still chronically cold?

He remembers Gordon would surprise Barney by pressing his fingers against his neck just to make him yelp. He remembers learning how to knit just to make Gordon a pair of thick, fingerless gloves for the winter. The kind he could talk more easily in.

He remembers the first night he wore them out, how happy he was to have warm hands while still being able to talk to Barney. It was snowing while they walked and talked, and they’d stopped under an awning for a bit only for Gordon to notice the mistletoe above them.

Barney remembers all of this as Gordon presses a kiss to his knuckles before pressing his cheek to his palm. All the air leaves him at once and he can’t breathe, eyes going wide.

They stay like that for a moment. Everything else disappears. Barney keeps his eyes focused on Gordon, on the way his eyes flutter shut as he just holds his hand there. When was the last time he was touched like this? Barney doesn’t know. He just knows that he can’t help but smooth his thumb against his cheekbone.

It makes Gordon sigh and turn his face more into his palm, pressing his lips there. There’s a moment where Barney considers falling to his knees and replacing his palm with his mouth. Where he considers undoing the restraints and handing Gordon his crowbar, then kneeling before him with his neck bared and waiting for his judgement.

He doesn’t do either of these. He just holds his breath.

Gordon looks tired, Barney notices. Deep, dark bags under his eyes and hastily-healed scars covering his face. Wounds that have been knitted together too fast, making the skin around it tight and firm. He runs his thumb over one on Gordon’s lip. Even through the glove he can feel the change between scar tissue and skin.

Being the Atlas of humanity must weigh on him something fierce, he thinks. If Barney goes through with this, Gordon wouldn’t have to worry about that. Maybe he could just rest. He looks like he hasn’t properly slept in days.

How long has it been? How long has it been since the resonance cascade, for Gordon? He looks the same. He acts the same. Barney’s 20 years feels like nothing in the face of what Gordon’s gone through.

Gordon opens his eyes again, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Beautiful and just so damn green. Barney could get lost, if he wanted. If he looked for just a little too long.

But he has the look in them, again. Soft and welcoming, almost silently pleading with him for… for something.

Barney notices, like a lightning strike, that it’s not love there. Not like he thought. Not quite. Not entirely .

It’s forgiveness .

The realization makes Barney pull his hand away like he’s been burned, stumbling backwards. He balls his fist up, his entire arm shaking. He swallows thickly, his entire chest burning.

Gordon forgives him.

Barney hasn’t even done anything to show remorse or guilt.

Gordon forgives him.

Barney’s barely even been kind to him.

Gordon forgives him .

How is it enough ? How is he enough?

It’s tearing through him like a jagged edge. Barney can barely breathe as he stares at Gordon. He wants to scream. He wants to tear his hair out.

(He wants to drag Gordon up by the collar and ask why? Why do you keep looking at me like that? Don’t you see me? Don’t you see what I’ve done? Please, God, stop looking at me like that and just kill me already.)

He’s blind. He can’t see Barney’s faults, his flaws, his mistakes-- not even when they’re glaring right at him.

Barney’s not a good person, he can’t be, not anymore. Not after this. But Gordon keeps looking at him like he’s the messiah of humanity, instead. Like he’s his entire world.

(He can’t stand it. He can’t. It’s like he’s being torn to pieces.)

So Barney does what he’s always done best. He blinks, steels his expression, and carefully tucks his emotions away.

“Backup is on the way.” He says coldly, looking down his nose at Gordon. “Don’t try anything and… and you’ll be unharmed. Got it?”

He turns and opens the door to the room they’re in. He signals for one of the other CPs standing outside to come in.

Gordon doesn’t respond. He just stares. Barney can’t meet his eyes.

He sighs harshly and takes a moment to collect himself before leaving Gordon behind. He doesn’t look back.

(Not even when he hears the muffled sounds of fighting coming from the room.)

#Half Life #half-life #gordon freeman #barney calhoun #freehoun #my writing #fics

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 3 Part 4

Hello, once again, to Midnight Striga, by yours truly! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Skara nervously ground her teeth against each other. A bad habit, really. One she constantly tried to break, and keep others from discovering. It was honestly something of a miracle that no one had figured it out already. These mundane thoughts did nothing to distract her from what was occurring not even four feet away; Boscha, a truly frightening grin on her face, holding a quivering Demon student by the neck of his hood. “H-hey, Boscha? Maybe we should head to lunch first, you know? I mean, it’s not like this guy is going anywhere.” Skara cringed at how obvious she sounded. Luckily, it looked like Boscha bought it. For now.

“Hmm… yeah, I could eat.” Boscha casually answered, heedless of her tightening grip on the poor Demon’s neck, as well as his increasingly urgent struggling, releasing exactly one second after he stopped moving, dropping him to the floor in an unconscious heap. It was all Skara could do not to visibly shudder at the sight. Violence was a common sight around the Isles, but that level of coldness and cruelty was usually reserved for the bitterest of enemies; it wasn’t meant for some random kid who didn’t apologize fast enough for bumping into you!! 

‘Don’t think about Skara. Tuck it away, and don’t think about it. Boscha’s your friend, you look out for each other.’ She kept repeating the mantra, unsure of how much she believed it. ‘Just don’t think about it.’

Aloud, Skara replied. “That’s great! And hey, maybe afterwards, you, me and Amity can hit the town for a bit. You know, have a little fun?” She nudged her elbow against Boscha’s ribs, hoping the playful gesture would get a laugh, or a frown, or just ANY reaction other than that creepy, blank passiveness she’d had for the past few days, when she wasn’t brutalizing some Demon that is. ‘Don’t think about it.’ What Skara didn’t expect, however, was for Boscha to lift her off the ground by the front of her uniform, and bodily SLAM her against the wall!

“Don’t. Do that. Again.” Boscha growled out. Skara whimpered, barely getting out a confirmation, the pain in her back throbbing from the blow. As Skara slid down to the floor, the few members of their clique nearby watched in stunned horror. Then, to Skara’s morbid shock, Boscha’s face blanked out, cleared, and then shifted into confusion. “Why are you hanging out on the floor? Come on, let’s go eat.” Skara barely held back the tears threatening to break loose.

Shakily pulling herself to her feet, Skara did her best to enter her usual stride, following in Boscha’s footsteps. She willfully ignored the frantic whispers kicking up behind her. ‘Don’t think about it.’

Amity marched down the halls, dead set on finding Principal Bump. Surely he had some kind of answer to this!? Willow cheated. That was the only possible answer. Willow had no talent, it was an established fact throughout Hexside. That feat back in class was impossible! Gritting her teeth, Amity carefully pushed back her anger, letting her features smooth into their usual blank indifference. She wasn’t entirely successful, however, as her eyes were still narrowed, and her jaw had a harsher set than usual to it.

As she marched, she thought back to Willow’s claim. Advice. How cute. As if Advice was enough to generate such an explosive increase in skill. If that was the case, she’d be in the Emperor’s Coven by now!

As she muttered bitter things to herself, she brushed by some of the girls Boscha, and by extension herself, hung out with. They attempted to grab her attention, with one even trying to physically grab her. A glare and a few choice words sent them scurrying. She’d probably have to deal with that later. What a bother. As she rounded the corner, she spotted Willow, that kid she hung out with these days, Augustus, a new girl, and… Principal Bump!? There was no way in the Titan’s name she was letting this fly!!

As Luz and Bump traveled the halls, she wondered just what, exactly, he had in mind. She had caught a glimpse in his eyes, the look of someone who had just hatched a plan, and was very good at keeping it tucked away inside. Still, whatever it was, she could at least take comfort in the fact that it probably wasn’t harmful, or at the very least wasn’t fatal.

“Oh, LUZ! OVER HERE!!”

Turning her head in the sound of the shout, Luz caught sight of Willow standing some feet away, a vibrating younger boy standing next to her.

Bump shot her a wry glance. “I feel as though that is the student you were talking about, correct.”

Luz smirked. “Got it in one, sir.”

As the two strolled over, Luz saw Willow tense up, most definitely because of the authority figure by her side. Luz was not expecting the kid she was with to rush her, shoving his face uncomfortably close to her own.

“Oh, my Titan, A REAL LIVE HUMAN!!” The kid squealed, literally squealed!, in delight. “IS IT TRUE RAIN DOESN’T BOIL IN YOUR WORLD WHERE ARE YOUR GILLS HAVE YOU EVER EATEN MEAT RAW ARE YOU CAPABLE OF EXPELLING VENOM FROM GLANDS STORED IN YOUR NECK MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH!!!!”

“Whoa!” Luz shouted, easing the kid back. “Personal space please.”

Bump gave a tired smile at the boy. “Hmm… I should’ve expected that reaction from young Augustus here.” At Luz’s questioning look, he elaborated. “Young Augustus is the head of Hexside’s Human Appreciation Society. Out of every being in this school, his knowledge is the least flawed.” Say what you will about his teaching style, but Bump was very much willing to admit to having gaps in his knowledge and understanding.

“Augustus, eh?” Luz grinned. “I think I’ll call you Gus. Easier for me to remember.”

“Gus? Gus!” The now christened “Gus” started shouting. “A human nickname!” He whirled towards Willow. “Gus! Call me it! Gus! Yes!”

Luz gave a confused smile to a tired-looking Willow. “He’s certainly hyper.��

Willow sighed. “Yeah, but he’s a great guy when you get to know him, and he’s stuck by me through everything.”

As heartwarming as this was, Bump knew now was the best point to head things off. “Ahem.”

As Willow and Gus refocused on the sight of their Principal, both snapped to attention. “”Principal Bump!””

“Oh, calm down children. Now, Miss Park, if I recall correctly, you are in the Abomination Track.” At her sullen nod, her expression gave Bump all the confirmation he needed. “My associate,” he gestured to a smirking Luz, “has informed me that your skills are being underutilized in your current class and that you wish to transfer.” He bent down slightly, giving Willow a better look at his face, and him a better look at hers. “Is this true?”

Willow hesitated for a moment, but at an encouraging glance from Luz, and a thumbs up from Gus, steeled herself. “More than anything sir. I just… I really REALLY hate being in Abominations.” She clutched her uniform, slightly embarrassed at the admittance.

Bump gave a warm chuckle. “Don’t fret. As your Principal, one of my duties is to see that all my students reach their full potential, and to see that they enjoy their learning.” The bright grins from the three youths elicited another laugh from him. “Now, let’s see what you can do, and then see what I can do, shall we?”

Willow’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Oh Absolut-”

“Principal Bump!”

All present turned to see Amity striding their way, an irate expression on her face. As she pulled closer, she stopped herself, and pointed at Willow. “Willow Park cheated on her Abominations Project today!” The sheer certainty of her statement, and the boiling anger in her voice, sent the group rocking back.

“”WHAT!?”” The synched shouts of Willow and Luz rattled the windows.

Bump frowned, his earlier joy draining away. “Miss Blight, I hope you understand the severity of your accusation. This is not something to be made lightly.” He warned, hoping this wouldn’t escalate.

“Trust me sir, I am fully aware.” Amity stated, having rallied enough of her temper to present herself in a calmer manner. “Willow presented an Abomination today in class that was far beyond any prior recorded demonstration of skill, a jump far beyond what could be attributed to typical practice.”

“What!? Amity, that’s crazy, I didn’t cheat!” Willow cried, shocked and hurt at the accusation.

“Yeah,” Luz leapt in, more than willing to defend the girl. “I even saw her practice it myself!”

Amity gave Luz a flat look, before fixing her gaze on her ears. “I wouldn’t expect a human to get it,” she stated condescendingly, “but Willow has none of the skill needed to produce an Abomination of that caliber, such as it was.”

“Amity, I’m telling the truth, I just practiced!” Willow insisted.

“Practice doesn’t just magically erase years of incompetency, Park!” Amity shot back.

Luz stepped forward, glaring down at the mint-haired girl. “Don’t you dare call her incompetent, kid.” She snarled, fed up with the brat’s attitude. “I was the one who gave her the advice she needed to make that Abomination, and I watched her practice to get it just right. Don’t talk about things you don’t really understand.”

“Gave her the advice?” Amity murmured, before her face split into a nasty grin. “Oh, so you're the one who helped her cheat.”

“Cheat!?” Luz shouted.

“Of course.” Amity waved dismissively. “Willow always did like playing with plants, so it makes sense now how it turned out. She just slathered some vines in Abomination Goop and stored them in her pot. Of course,” she arched an eyebrow, somehow not quite concealing the anger in her eyes, “I never thought a human would understand the value of hard work anyway.”

“You...You!” Luz fumed ready to throttle the girl in front of her, but…

“I…”

The group turned to Willow, the tiles beneath her feet shuddering.

“Didn’t.”

Her eyes started glowing.

“CHEAT!!!”

With a scream of rage, a massive collection of vines ripped out from the ground, slamming Amity painfully against the far wall, a rough crack echoing from the landing. Panting for breath, eyes still burning with rage, Willow glanced down at her hands, looked back at Amity, and her eyes widened in horror. With a yell, tears streaming, Willow tore off down the hall, Gus rushing after her in worry.

Before she headed off to join them, Luz stomped over to Amity, a book clutched in her hand. With a stormy frown, she threw it at the girl’s feet. Amity hesitantly picked it up. “What is-?”

“Those are Willow’s notes.” Luz flatly stated. “Take a look. I’m done wasting time here.” And with that said, Luz took off like a bullet down the same hall as Gus and Willow, dead set on helping her friend.

“Miss Blight, I am deeply disappointed in you.” Bump stated, hovering slightly to the side of Amity.

“Principal Bump!?” Amity gasped, having forgotten his presence on the excitement.

“Indeed.” Bump stated. His face was flat and stony, his temper almost peaked. “I have always held you in high regard, Miss Blight, due to your dedication, skill, and commitment.”

“T-Thank you, Sir.” Amity shakily grinned, only for it to be wiped away by his next words.

“I now see, that was a mistake.”

Amity stilled. “What?”

Bump tisked. “Amity, your actions did nothing but disgrace yourself, based on supposition and your own jealousy of another’s work. You didn’t even take the time to test the Abomination Pot, did you?” Amity reeled back as if struck; she hadn’t, she had just assumed.

Bump turned his tired eyes to her, shame burning in his gaze. “I am afraid that I will have no choice but to inform your parents of your recent conduct. I hope you will reflect on your actions, Miss Blight.” With that, he headed off to see to his other students, one of whom had just been provoked by the girl lying behind him.

Solemnly, uncomprehending of what had just occurred, Amity turned her gaze to the book the Human had thrown at her, Willow’s notes apparently. With nothing better to do, and her usual calm utterly shattered, Amity slowly opened the book. Inside were the notes, scribbled all about, and Amity’s eyes widened. Some of these were the same kinds of notes she had taken over the years; no, some of these were Better! If Willow had been studying this diligently, then how was she struggling? Was she really a Half-A-Witch at all? ...Was what happened between them all for nothing? Shakily rising to her feet, wincing slightly at the pain it brought to her back, Amity stumbled after the others. She needed answers.

If anyone saw Boscha in the moment, they would’ve assumed she was in a bad mood, what with the intense scowl on her face. They would be wrong. She wasn’t in a bad mood, as that would imply she cared enough to allow this situation to upset her. Her fist tightened around her jewel, the edges almost biting into her hand. As the sheep scurried around her, Boscha held in an eyeroll. Such blatant weakness might’ve been welcome before, but currently? It just served to annoy her.

“Ugh, if even just one more of these pests gets in my way, I swear I’m gonna lose it!” Boscha groaned, running a hand through her hair. “It’s like they don’t have anything better to do. Right Skara?” Boscha asked, turning to look at her closest follower (friend), who was oddly subdued, hanging farther back than usual. If she was being honest, it… irked Boscha to see one of her friends so weak.

Skara blinked, dazed. “Wha? Oh! Y-yeah, totally Boscha. Totally!” She chuckled nervously, lightly rubbing at her collar. Boscha gave an eye roll to that. Just what was up with her today? She was acting like Boscha was going to commit a murder or something! Seriously, the worst thing she had done lately is put some vermin in their place, that’s all.

Grumbling, Boscha soldiered on, all the while, that voice in the back of her head, screamed it’s message; she was here.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #willow park #amity blight #gus porter #hieronymus bump #boscha the owl house #skara the owl house #magic

[archivistsrock]

I finally got to see Papi Chulo this weekend! I never thought the day would come! lol. I swear, it's been like a million years since it first was at TIFF.

Here’s the trailer for the movie:

General impressions: I really liked it! It was playing at a theater that was over an hour away from me, so I didn't want to ask any of my friends to go (they aren't Matt fans. I mean, that makes it sound like they don't like him, which isn't true...they're just not FANS). So I dragged my mom with me LOL. She's a trooper. Anyway, because I dragged my mom there, I was a little preoccupied the whole time wondering/worrying if she was bored. I really need to just go to Matt movies alone so I'm not focused on the enjoyment of the person I'm with. I worry too much.

But anyway, it was good! It was sweet and sad and funny. It was a little slow-paced, I would say. But not necessarily in a bad way. There are a few things that are revealed during the movie that makes things more impactful. I knew about them beforehand, bc I'm a slut for spoilers ha, but probs would have been more impactful if I hadn't known.

Matt is really good in it. I adore his character (Sean). He's just a really nice guy. Well-intentioned. Obvs has some flaws, but who doesn't? It's nice to have a movie where almost every scene features Matt. <3  Alejandro Pitino was also great in it. And Janet from The Good Place is also in it! lol.

To be honest, I don't really see it as a "buddy movie," which they seem to kind of be marketing it as. Mainly because the friendship is really one-sided. Ernesto maybe "gets along" with Sean, but I think it's a big stretch to say they're friends. The movie is much more about dealing with loss and loneliness than about friendship, and of the importance of real human interaction. By nature of Ernesto being an immigrant, the movies touches on some issues related to that, as well...but I don't see them as nearly the main focus.

I had kind of stopped reading reviews about the movie bc, tbh, I was just super annoyed that I couldn't see it. After viewing it, I went and read the more critical review on The Wrap [x]. And honestly? She's not wrong. I think some of her critiques are a wee bit harsh, but overall I can't really argue against most of her points. That said, I definitely don't think the movie is OFFENSIVE. But I do get the criticisms and why some people may not enjoy it. But I really did.

Okay, now I'm going to get really detailed and spoilery by request, so stop reading if you haven't seen it and don't like being spoiled! I warned you!

Okay, here's a run-down of the movie -- as detailed as I can get, considering I saw it 4 days ago and tbh my memory kind of sucks. It starts out with the clip we've all seen of Matt doing the weather forecast and having a breakdown on air.

Go to 6:35 to see that clip below:

He tries to claim it was "gastro" related, but obvs no one buys that. They force him to go home and take a leave of absence to figure things out and get better (istg they later refer to this as "gardening leave" and is that a thing in some places??? Like, you get leave to work on your garden?? OKAY I just looked it up and LOL it's just a term for someone still getting paid after they're suspended or on leave or terminated. It seems to be a British term. Must have come from the director, who's Irish. Or have other US-folks heard this term?). Anyway, back to the movie.

So he's at home. Nice house. Good view of LA. Lots of coyotes howling at night.  He's arranged to have a couple people come by to pick up this rare tree that's on his deck, that belonged to his ex-boyfriend, Carlos. He keeps calling Carlos and leaving voice messages. "Hey, just letting you know I'm getting rid of your tree." Etc. So they drag the tree away and we notice that when Carlos painted the deck, he didn't bother moving the tree, so there's a big unpainted circle in the middle of the deck. "Typical Carlos..." So Sean drives to the small hardware store to get supplies to fix this.

Outside the hardware store, there are a bunch of Latino immigrants/laborers hoping to get hired by people to do...home improvement/handy man stuff. Sean sees Ernesto and seems preoccupied/interested in him. Ernesto, as you know, is an older more burly Latino guy. Sean goes into the hardware store are talks to an employee about paint for his deck. "I just need a small amount to cover a little spot on the deck." "Aren't you going to paint the whole deck so it blends in?" "Haha, I see what you're trying to do there. No, just the tiny-ass sample can please."

So he gets home and starts painting in the circle, and it's painfully obvious he'll need to redo the whole deck, since all the rest of the paint has faded. So he drives back to the hardware store and is like, "Yeah, so I know I ignored your advice before. Sorry, I'm dumb." He buys more paint and a bigger brush. So he drives home with all his stuff, again passing the laborers and looking at Ernesto.

Once home, he checks his email and there's messages from his friends about how he's doing -- presumably since his break-up with Carlos. He's been avoiding his friends, and they're telling him he needs real human interaction and should talk to someone. He has kind of a light bulb moment and drives back to the hardware store and pulls up alongside the Latino laborers. He's like, "Hey, I need someone who can paint." A bunch of them are kind of in his face about it, wanting to be hired. Ernesto is just hanging back, quiet. Sean points to Ernesto and asks if he can paint. He's like "Yes. $20/hour." "Great!" (although Ernesto speaks little English and Sean speaks little Spanish, so it wasn't that easy). So Ernesto gets back in the car and they drive to Sean's house.

He kind of reminds me of me during this part, because he hired Ernesto to work for him, but when they're getting out of the car and Ernesto gets the bag of paint, Sean is like, "No, no! Let me get that!" They go back and forth a bit, but Ernesto ends up carrying it. Anyway, I always feel weird having people do things for me, even if I'm paying them. So he shows Ernesto the deck and we get the other scene we've seen before. The "more than one day" scene. "Mas que un dia."

Sean is all like, "Do you want water? Food? Are you okay?" etc. Ernesto is kind of amused but also just like...leave me alone and let me work. This is weird. I don't understand anything you're saying.

Sean goes and gets lunch and  brings it back and yells out to Ernesto, "Lunch!" Ernesto is like...okay. Time to eat, I guess. And sits down on the deck and takes something wrapped in tinfoil out of his bag. Sean is like, "No! Inside! I brought lunch for us!" And it's like this whole big spread. Some type of Asian cuisine. I can't remember which, but Ernesto picks up an eggroll and is like, "Taquito!" lol. You can tell Ernesto is a little uncomfortable with everything, but he's also just like...rolling with it. Okay, you're paying me. I guess we're eating lunch.

Then Sean convinces him to leave with him and they go to a park and Sean wants to go out in a rowboat. Sean wants to row, but Ernesto is like, "Yeah, I'm not going in there with you unless I row." So he ends up rowing. Please note, that all this "conversation" is not as smooth as I'm writing it! Ernesto really doesn't get much of anything Sean says. Anyway, Sean treats the rowboat ride like he's in therapy. He just starts spilling his feelings and issues out to Ernesto. Ernesto just nods like, "Yeah, okay." At one point, I think he does say something like, "I don't understand anything you're saying." Sean is like, "I feel so much better just saying this stuff out loud!" He falls asleep in the boat, and Ernesto calls his wife and is like, "GUESS WHERE I AM?? IN A FUCKING ROWBOAT WITH THIS GUY." His wife is like, "Ha! He's gay and he totally digs you." Ernesto is like,"Yeah, he's gay. But he doesn't like me. I'm old. I'm fat. Why would he like me?" His wife is all cute and is like, "I'm a woman. I know these things. He's into you." Then Sean wakes up so Ernesto hangs up the phone.

They get back to the pier and the rowboat operator guy says, "I like this whole "Driving Miss Daisy" situation you guys have going on!" Sean gets pissed and is like, "What do you mean?? We're friends. Why would you say it's like "Driving Miss Daisy"??" The operator guys gets all uncomfortable and is like..."Umm...because he's rowing you around....?" So Sean is pissed that the guy assumes he paid Ernesto to row him around. But also like...it's true. As much as Sean is annoyed that the man is making that assumption, they really aren't friends. The only reason they're there together is because Sean is paying Ernesto. So he then drops Ernesto back off at the hardware store at the end of the day and is like. "Tomorrow? Here at the hardware store?" "Okay." Then he pays him the money he owes him and they part ways.

I don't recall exactly the timeline here, but at various points throughout the movie, Sean is scrolling through Grindr, or whatever hook-up app it is he's using. He's also shown lying in bed at night and is tortured by the sound of coyotes howling.

He picks up Ernesto the next morning and is like, "We're hiking. Not painting." So he takes him to Runyon Canyon to hike. On the hike, Sean keeps talking talking talking and Ernesto is still like, "Okay, I have no idea what you're saying." At a scenic viewpoint, they're looking out at the city. Sean casually asks where Ernesto lives, and this kind of freaks Ernesto out. Like "Why do you want to know??" Sean's like, "Oh, I'm just curious!" Anyway, he points and says the general area (I can't remember which town/neighborhood it was). While they're standing there, one of Sean's friends sees them and comes over. He volunteers to take a pic of the two of them, and when he does, he says, "Cute couple!" Sean starts to correct him but then doesn't. Ernesto doesn't say anything, obviously. The friend then invites Sean to a party he's having the next evening. Sean does learn a little about Ernesto throughout the few days together. He learns he's married and has kids. He sees a pic of them. Honestly, that's about it.

Ernesto calls his wife from here and again is like, "Guess where the fuck I am now?? HIKING. Yeah, it's pretty." But he actually feels guilty for getting paid to go on hikes. His wife is like, "Whatever. He's paying you. Cool beans." Sean then takes Ernesto to a health market and wants him to try a shot of some gross health drink. He takes a sip and is like, "No. This is disgusting." Sean's like, "Yeah, you're right. It's horrid. But it's healthy and I'm drinking it bc it cost a shit ton." Oh, while Sean was buying the drink, one of the store employees went up to Carlos and handed him a bunch of boxes because he thought he worked there. He got him mixed up with another Latino guy working there. Awkward. White people are dumb.

Sean drives Ernesto back the hardware store and is like, "Okay, tomorrow. Meet you here. Also, we're going to a party later that night."

I don't remember the next day very well. I assume maybe Ernesto did some work? Not sure. Anyway, they then go to Sean's friend's party together. It a big party of all gay men. Ernesto gets kissed on the mouth (not in a sexual way) by one of Sean's friends. He obvs feels a little uncomfortable. Mostly bc he doesn't know any of them and I assume can't communicate with them. He doesn't seem to have a big issue with gay guys. Whenever Sean's friends see Ernesto, they're all like, "Oh, I get it." We later see Sean's phone contacts and a pic of his ex Carlos, and he is also an older, burlier Latino man. So clearly, Ernesto reminds Sean of Carlos. Now we understand his...obsession? Fixation? Attachment?

Ernesto calls his wife from the party is is kind of freaking out about it. "A MAN KISSED ME ON THE MOUTH." But his wife is like, "Dude, have fun." So he seems to have a decent time. Then they leave the party in a Lyft and there's a pretty great scene where Madonna's "Borderline" comes on the radio and Ernesto is like, "Hey, I know this song!" So they drunkenly sing it together in the back of the Lyft. The Lyft stops at the hardware store, and they're both sitting in the back of the car looking at each other. Sean looks a little confused as to why Ernesto is sitting there looking at him. He then leans in to kiss Ernesto, but Ernesto is like. "No! I'm waiting for my money." The Sean's like, "OMG yeah. Sorry." And he pays him and Ernesto gets out. Then the Lyft takes Sean home.

We then see Ernesto make his way home. He has to take a couple buses. He finally get home and we see his house and his wife. It's a pretty nice house. Normal, I mean. Not Sean-level nice. His wife is awesome. Ernesto is like, "Honey, you were right. I am irresistible." "I told you I knew!" Then they go to the bedroom to presumably have sex.

The next day, Sean drives to the hardware store but none of the Latino guys are out there. He's confused and asks someone driving by where all the men are, and the guy's like, "It's Labor Day, you fucking idiot." So Sean drives home. He gets drunk and ends up inviting a guy over from Grindr. He quickly gets in the shower (shower scene!), and ends up falling in the shower while holding a glass and cuts himself a bit. Then the doorbell rings so he gets out. He answers the door clothed, but wet. The hot guy is like, "You're wet." "I just showered." Sean invites the guy in and asks if he wants a drink. "Not at this hour." (early) "No, no...just like...water?" Sean turns to pour a glass of water and hot guy strips naked in the kitchen. Sean turns and sees him and is like, "HOLY SHIT!" and drops his glass. He goes down to pick up the glass, and pops back up all bloody. His head is cut, his hands are cut up. The naked guy is just like.."Are you okay?? Are you drunk?" And is kind of legit concerned for him. Sean is like, "No! I'm fine!" Naked guy is like, "Um, I got naked because I assumed we were going to...?" Sean is like, "Listen, can we just talk?" Naked guy puts his clothes on and is like, "You need to get your shit figured out. Only you can make yourself happy." Then he leaves.

At some point...today? Tomorrow? Yesterday? I don't know, but at some point he goes back to the news station to be like, "Hey! I'm ready to go back to work!" His boss shows him the video of his breakdown that's on youtube. AWKWARD. And they're like, "It's been 4 days. Leave." So he does.

He calls his ex Carlos to say...something. But instead of getting his voicemail, he gets a message saying that the number has been disconnected. He freaks out and calls someone and asks the lady on the phone why the number was disconnected. "Why wouldn't we disconnect it? Carlos has been dead for 6 months." :O So now we learn that Carlos isn't an ex...he actually died 6 months prior. So this is why Sean is having such a hard time. There's then these flashback scenes from previous moments in the movie. We see Sean in the rowboat talking, but he's alone. We see him hiking and talking to no one. At first I was like, "Did Sean make Ernesto up??" But no, that's not it. I think this was just supposed to represent that Sean was using Ernesto as a stand-in for Carlos. He felt so much better those two days talking to "Carlos," but Carlos wasn't really there. He was still alone. Ernesto isn't his lover, isn't his friend. Just a guy he hired. [I think? Anyone else have other interpretations of this?]

The next day he goes to pick up Ernesto and he's not there. He tries asking the other men where Ernesto is, and they're basically making fun of Sean. "Hey, I'll go on a boat with you!" Word has got out that Sean is having Ernesto do all this weird shit. I think Ernesto's wife was talking. Sean seems to frantically need Ernesto. He drives to the town where Ernesto said he lived (population of like 60,000) and just starts asking people if they know Ernesto. Some kid steals his phone and whacks him over the head with his skateboard. Sean goes into a bar and gets wasted. He then sees a guy go into the bar that he recognized as Ernesto's brother-in-law from a pic Ernesto showed him. So he follows him to a house, and there's a Quinceanera going on. I guess Ernesto's daughter?? But I didn't remember him having daughter that age, so I could be wrong. idk. Anyway, Sean drunkenly crashes the party. They dump him in one of the kids' bedrooms where he passes out. He wakes up later and slinks out.

Time has passed during the next scene, and Sean is back at work, but makes an announcement that this is his last weather report. He's leaving. We don't know where or for what. But we had learned earlier while he was talking away with Ernesto that he doesn't even like being a weatherman and he actually hates the weather in California. So it seems he's moving on. He seems much healthier. He write Ernesto a letter apologizing for crashing the party, saying how ashamed he is and that he was going through a tough time.

Sean's at home and the doorbell rings. He goes to the door and it's Ernesto's son (like 8 years old??). Ernesto comes out of the truck with painting supplies. The kid acts as an interpreter. They go up to the deck and Ernesto starts working. Sean is like, "You don't need to do this! Why are you finishing the deck?" Ernesto is like, "Because you sent me $200 with the letter." Sean is like, "No, not to finish the deck! For room and board!" He sent him the money as an apology for crashing the party and for them letting him sleep it off in their house and for some food they left out for him. Anyway, they start sanding the deck together (Sean is a terrible sander). Ernesto is like, "You're not paying me!" They laugh. Movies fades to black.

#papi chulo #ask #you asked for as detailed as I could get! #so here you go!

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 15: have you heard the one about…

Hey, I feel like this one needs a preface, if only because Chris shows up briefly, in a very lighthearted scene, and it's a tough time of year to feel very lighthearted. All I will say, inarticulately, is that I started tinkering with and ultimately sharing this old project last year to help me process what happened. Something about having an alternate universe where I could keep things exactly the way I wanted them, keep everybody safe, felt healing. I hope it feels that way for you, too.

So that's enough of that stuff. Peace, love, and I hope y’all like dirty jokes.

Tuesday, October 23rd, 1990

shit. Shit. Shit! SHIT! What was that??

I let go of my lip only when I'm positive I’ve regained enough control of myself not to say anything completely insane out loud. I keep my eyes shut tight though… whether to avoid the awful, crashing reality of looking my boyfriend in the eyes and facing what a terrible person I am, or whether I'm just not ready to surrender the stolen image behind my eyelids quite yet, I can't begin to understand.

Meanwhile, Alex seems totally oblivious as he rides down from his own high, pressing a kiss to my damp forehead.

“Mmmh, where did that come from?” he mutters, brushing my hair back from my face.

Your guess is as good as mine. Well, maybe not exactly…

I shake my head, still not feeling entirely trustworthy enough to speak, and let out a little laugh, shaky and slightly hysterical-sounding.

“Well, whatever it was, it was fuckin’ hot…” he says, nuzzling my nose.

Oh no, don't be sweet, please, after all this time, don't suddenly start being sweet now…

“I'm gonna, uhm... I’ll be right back,” I stutter, nodding in the direction of the door. Really smooth, Cora, Christ Almighty.

After disentangling myself from him and bolting to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face for several seconds while I try to get my heart rate under control. But it's no use, every time I close my eyes I see the same thing… I try glaring at my own reflection instead, hoping to scowl some sense into myself.

God, get a grip Cora, it's nothing, okay? It's just been so long since you even had sex, you're all mixed up. And it doesn't mean anything, you were just hanging out with him earlier tonight, that's why he popped into your head, just a totally innocent fluke of the subconscious… and you know your subconscious is a crazy motherfucker sometimes … but it doesn't mean anything, right?

It means one big thing, at least. It means I am the world's most horrible girlfriend. I didn't even want Alex tonight, not specifically… I didn't even want him to kiss or touch me, I just wanted one thing… even before I thought of, uhm, someone else… so where do we go from here? If things have gotten so hollow and disconnected that the only sex we’re ever going to have now is this meaningless and empty? Doesn't this mean we’re completely through, if I can't even trust myself not to use him while I fantasize about someone else?

And of all the someone elses, it wasn't just anyone, it was Stone! Stone?! Fuck, it's like my subconscious is on a mission to destroy me. What was it about him tonight? How did he get me so unglued? What made me say such an idiotic thing to him? He probably thinks I’m insane now, or some kind of damn groupie or something. I have a thing for you playing an acoustic… What the fuck, brain, have you been working on this scheme ever since that day at the fucking gallery? That level of treason takes commitment, kudos. But seriously, Stone?

...okay, fine, admit it, Stone’s not the problem here. He’s actually pretty fucking great. He’s insightful, and hilarious, and brilliant, and talented, and lately he's been a lot less of a shit for whatever reason… last night, he seemed so much more sincere, or secure, or something, I can’t figure out what it was... and okay fine yes shut up he is also extremely good-looking shut up already. But it's one thing to respect and admire a friend, or even acknowledge their empirical attractiveness. It's another thing altogether to mentally cheat with one of them.

I scrunch up my face, like I can somehow squint hard enough to crush all these thoughts of him out of my disordered mind.

I grope for the shower faucet and turn it on, climbing in before the water even has a chance to heat up. I don't know how I expect soap and water to wash this night away, but with shaking hands and a sick heart, I have to try.

*

When Alex's alarm goes off, I slam my eyes shut and pretend to sleep. I spent the whole night staring at the ceiling while he snored softly, trying to figure out how I was going to face him in the morning. And the coward’s way out wins. After waiting the usual amount of time to get ready for work and only crack an eye open when I hear the front door open and shut. At least after my shame shower last night, getting myself ready this morning is a quick process… oh, look, a silver lining…

The only glimmer of clarity I found in my panicked thoughts all night was that if there’s any hope for me at all, any hope of retaining any decency or value as a girlfriend and human being, I’ve got to stay the fuck away from Stone for a while. No, strike that, make that all of the Mookie guys, just to be safe. My heart aches at the thought of such an extensive amputation. This could get messy.

The one thing that can make me smile right now is the sight of my little brother in pajama pants, eating cereal on the couch and watching garbage morning news.

“Morning, sunshine!” he quips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look like shit, C. Didn’t you sleep?” He peers at me through his shaggy bangs.

I shake my head and gravitate towards the coffee pot. “No. Busy week at school, I guess… I’ve got a couple exams next week…”

He nods thoughtfully. “...your bratty kid brother all up in your business…”

“You know you’re not, drama queen.”

“Yeah, well, I was thinking, I’m liking this Portland idea more and more. I was gonna call around today and see if I can set something up for this weekend.”

My heart throbs painfully again. “So soon?”

“Well, yeah, C, I have to, like, find a job and be a productive member of society, I can’t freeload off of you and Alex forever.”

Definitely my little brother. I frown at him for long enough that he gets off the couch and comes over to give me a quick hug.

“What’s going on with you out here, Cora? You seem so unhappy.”

“I’m not, I --” I swear to god, I’m not, it’s just that none of the right things are bringing me happiness anymore, and I can’t begin to explain that to him “-- I’m okay,” I finish weakly.

“Oh yeah, sure… and you and Alex, that’s okay too?”

“What do you --”

“Come on, it’s obvious, it’s been obvious since the day I got here. Maybe not to you, but I have the benefit of not having seen you in a while. You two are done. You know I love him to bits, C, but you gotta cut him loose if you’re done.”

Guilt churns through my chest as I echo him. “If I’m done…”

“Cora, you’re not happy. I fucking hate that. I don’t know what’s going on, and I for sure know you’re not going to tell me, but you deserve to be happy. You’re the smart one, you can figure it out.”

I allow him to pull me into another hug, which gives me a chance to try and squash the sob I can feel rising up in my throat and the tears pricking my eyes. Just as I think I’ve gotten it under control, there’s a knock at the door.

“Thanks, kiddo,” I mumble as he lets me go.

“You can repay me by letting me use up all your hot water,” he cackles, heading toward the hallway to take a shower.

I frown at Eddie in confusion when I find him standing outside my door, exposing one of the most obvious flaws in my plan. It’s a little tricky to amputate people from your life when they live across the hall.

“What’s up, bud?”

“Hey, sorry, hope it’s not too early, uh… hey, you okay?” he frowns back at me, inspecting my face.

“Yeah, uh, just… something in my eye.”

“Uh huh,” he muses, clearly not buying it but not pushing me for further details. Thank goodness for that.

“Anyway, what’s up?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, we’re gonna be at the gallery all day, we gotta record these demos, but uhm, we happened upon these six tickets for the game tonight, preseason game, Bulls at SuperSonics…”

“Oh right, your Chicago roots,” we share a grin. Damn it, I always forget about those dimples until they blind me.

“That’s right,” he beams.

“Your team’s got my guy, you know.”

“Who?”

“Jordan, who else?”

“Really?” he chuckles. “I didn’t know you were a fan.”

“He’s a Tar Heel, Eddie, of course!”

“Oh man, so then this is perfect timing… we’re all going, the whole group, Lucy’s coming too, and Dave was gonna come but he can’t make it, so I was wondering if you wanted his ticket.”

The distraction of Michael Jordan is immediately replaced by panic swamping my brain at the thought of seeing Stone again so soon. Operation Amputation doesn’t seem to be going so well. And the thought of trying to explain to Lucy why I can’t hang out with her and her boyfriend gives me a bellyache. Why do you have to be so nice to me, Eddie? Be a jerk, make it easier.

“I really shouldn’t… you know, I’ve got a lot of work, and my brother’s leaving soon, and Alex is gone all next week… I should probably stay pretty close to home this week…”

Eddie nods sincerely, wrinkling his forehead. “Sure, yeah, I totally get that. Well, hopefully we see you around soon. You, uhm, you really helped me out last night, you know.”

Without another word, he turns on his heels and starts down the hallway. Suddenly, I remember something I should have said to him already, and I yell out to get his attention, “hey Eddie!”

He whirls around and gives me a questioning look.

“You did great last night.”

He lets loose another one of those massive, dimpled smiles, nods once, and disappears down the stairwell.

***

I decide to cut through the park on my way back. Maybe it’s not the most direct route from my house to the gallery, and I know I need to get back, but it’s a more scenic ride on the bike, and since last night I’ve been looking for any opportunity to be alone with my thoughts.

You know I have a thing for you playing an acoustic…

I still get a thrill in my veins every time I replay it in my head. The little smile, the color in her cheeks, the awkwardness that took over as soon as she realized she’d said it out loud. It was undeniable, even for Cora. She’s gotta admit it now.

But what if she doesn’t? What if she regrets it? What if I try to talk to her about it and she bites my head off yet again? Talking to her last night felt so great, and as much as I want us to finally air out all of our feelings, I don’t want to blow up our whole friendship by fixating on an impossible crush. I just want us to start being more honest with each other. I want her to be more honest with herself. I know she’s not happy, I...

Way up ahead, I spot a redheaded girl on a bike heading towards me on the path… that’s not her, is it? Jesus, man, get a grip, that’s ridiculous. Why would she be all the way up in this part of town? You’re hallucinating her.

Except…

“Stone?” The redhead in my thoughts is the same one braking right in front of my path, and I stop dead, blinking like a deer in the headlights. Funny thing is, she’s got the same expression on her face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cora asks, looking a little wild-eyed.

“I live around here, what’s your excuse?”

“I, uh,” she stammers, “just heading up to UW. Classes, and, uh, I wanted to do some stuff in the lab beforehand...”

“This is kinda out of your way though, isn’t it?”

“Uhm, I guess,” she chews her lip and looks around like she’s just realizing where she is, “but it’s pretty, and I guess…”

“It’s okay, Red, I’m taking the scenic route too.”

She fixes me with a questioning expression but can’t come up with anything to say. I can’t get over how nervous she looks. Something really shook her up, I just wish I knew what it was.

“I’m heading back down your way, actually,” I explain, “gotta get back to the gallery, but my parents are out of town for a couple weeks so I’m on geriatric dog piss break duty.”

“Glamorous. Well, I don’t want to keep you…”

“It’s okay.” I glance at my watch. “Did you eat lunch yet?”

“Uhm, yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, just wanted to know if you wanted to get a bite to eat.”

“I just told you, I already ate.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So you very sensibly asked me to eat lunch with you because…?” she asks wryly, putting a giant crack in that nervous shell.

“I don’t know,” I smile stupidly, thankful for an idea that just popped into my head. “Hey, but there’s this great little ice cream place near here, we should go…”

“Ice cream? It’s almost November.”

“Right? Damn the man! Let’s go get ice cream in 50-degree weather. This place is worth it, honestly.”

“I’m sure it’s great, but I really should get to the lab…”

“Come on, Wet Blanket, there’s always time for ice cream. I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream… in the land of the ice and snow…”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” she laughs.

“That’s how the song goes, you uncultured swine, the ice cream song.”

“So Zeppelin ripped off a 1920s novelty song?”

“Honestly who didn’t they rip off? Come on, are we getting ice cream or not?”

Her smile broadens. “You’re not gonna drop it, are you?”

“You’re quick, Red.”

We steer our bikes across the park to the place I’m thinking of, talking idly on the way about nothing and everything, and she’s becoming more relaxed by the minute. Maybe this means things are really changing between us now. Maybe she doesn't regret what she said. Maybe the nerves are just because she’s finally letting her guard down.

We park our bikes outside the ice cream parlor and step inside. While she contemplates the choices, I place my order because I know exactly what I want.

“Seriously?” she asks with a snort. “Old lady butter pecan? That's what you're going with?”

“Is there a problem here?”

“No problem at all, granny,” she snickers as she scans the freezer case to make her own choice. “Actually, that's kinda perfect.”

“Granny?? I'm all man, Red. And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, perfect?”

The clerk hands me my cone and glances between us, obviously waiting for Cora to make up her mind but too polite to say anything. Cora, meanwhile, is occupied with way more important things.

“Uh huh. I don't know, butter pecan just makes sense. Like, it's you, in ice cream form. It's a little ironic, so it's got that going on, but it's also undeniably one of the best, most underrated flavors. And it's probably kind of a pain in the ass to make it just right, a little finicky, so the details are important. It explains you perfectly.”

“I'm not sure if I want you to keep describing me or order some damn ice cream so you’ll shut up,” I make like I’m going to mash my ice cream cone in her face, and she squeals with laughter. The clerk sighs and gives us a pleading look.

“Strawberry, please,” Cora finally says.

“Oh hell no, you're not getting off that easy,” I shake my head.

“And your problem would be…?” she raises a lazy eyebrow.

“In no possible scenario are you strawberry ice cream, my fine feisty friend.”

“Bonus points for alliteration, but I was not choosing myself as ice cream, I just fuckin’ wanted strawberry.” A mischievous smile spreads across her face. “But since you brought it up, what ice cream flavor am I?”

We pay for our cones -- I tried to pay for hers but she rolled her eyes and teased that it wasn't a date -- and go sit outside on a bench, which is ridiculous in this weather, but I’ve got a very serious question to ponder and a beautiful girl to eat ice cream with, so who gives a fuck if it's a little cold outside. None of it ever makes sense with her. That's why I love her.

As I'm figuring out how to define her in flavor terms, I glance over and watch her take a bite of her ice cream, thinking of how sweet she looks when she's completely unaware of having an audience. Well, bite’s not really the right word, she doesn't exactly use her teeth, and what kind of psychopath bites ice cream, anyway… but she doesn't simply lick the whole thing, either, except for occasionally running her tongue along the bottom edge to catch a drip… no, it's more like she gives a little lick to one chosen spot, and then applies her lips to melt a little circle of the ice cream, pulling it inwards, then licking again, starting over… uh, Jesus… lucky ice cream...

Her eyes travel up to mine just as she’s about to give another small lick, and she lets out a self-conscious giggle. “You're melting, Stoner.”

“Wha…? Oh,” I switch my attention to my own ice cream, which is starting to run in a little rivulet down my hand, so I busy myself cleaning it up with my own tongue to stop myself from thinking about hers. It doesn't work particularly well… I mean my hand’s clean now, but my thoughts...

“So, did you decide?”

“Mmhmm,” I say, simultaneously trying to corral my hormones and make sure I don't have ice cream on my face like a total dork, “I mean, you're something weird, let's just get that out of the way right now.”

“Granted.”

“Strawberry is way too sweet.”

“Hey!” She elbows me hard and I almost lose the whole cone to the sidewalk.

“Obviously you’re a sweetheart,” I snort. “But, like, strawberry's too… accessible, or something. Too mainstream.”

“Mmmhk,” she says skeptically through a mouthful of ice cream. I will not stare. I must not stare.

“So you're a weirder one. Something completely awesome, but an acquired taste. Offbeat, unknowable, unpredictable. But that’s the fun part. Most people totally wouldn’t get the appeal…”

“Well, definitely don’t quit your day job for a career in ice cream marketing…”

“Hush. What I meant was, maybe you wouldn’t find it in every shop, but that’s a shame, because it’s the best one when you do find it. Except, it’s a little scary, too, like… the novelty makes it cool, and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be awesome, but can I really handle a whole serving of something so unfamiliar? So what would that even be? Blueberry? Like, I never see blueberry ice cream anywhere but it sounds so fucking cool… but even that’s not quite right, ugh…”

She’s watching me ramble with the most curious expression, and she hasn’t even noticed that her own ice cream is dripping down her fingers. I nod at her and she jumps a bit before trying to clean up the mess and again running her tongue around the rim of the ice cream cone. Deep, steady breaths, man, come on, be cool. She smiles at me again.

“Offbeat scary blueberry, huh? I don’t know whether to be intensely flattered or completely insulted.”

“See? Perfect,” I beam at her, triumphant.

“You’re such a dick,” she giggles, her cheeks reddening just a little. Okay, if both of our minds are thinking about dicks, I might as well make the most of this opportunity.

“You wanna hear a joke?” I ask her, eyeing her as I take a bite out of the sugar cone.

“Always.”

“Okay, well it’s not really weather-appropriate, but I think it’ll still work… have you heard the one about the penguin driving down from Alaska to his vacation down south --”

“Penguins don’t live in Alaska,” she frowns.

“Excuse me?”

“There are no penguins in Alaska, Stone, they live in the Southern Hemisphere.”

“This is what bothers you? The inaccuracy of the penguin’s habitat? Not, oh I don’t know, the fact that the penguin is DRIVING?”

“Well I was gonna get to that next, but as the resident scientist, I felt obligated to --”

“It’s a joke, you fucking pedant!”

“-- it’s a pretty piss-poor joke so far.”

“Yeah, because of all the pedantic interruptions. Here, shove some ice cream in there, maybe that’ll help,” I nudge her cone up towards her face. “Okay, so who the fuck knows, maybe he’s fleeing a zoo or something, anyway, he’s driving south…”

“...probably to get back to the Southern Hemisphere where he belongs…”

“God damn it,” I laugh. “Okay, fine, have it your way. So he’s driving home to the Southern Hemisphere after VISITING Alaska, and somewhere in Arizona, in that intense desert heat, his car gives out. So he calls a tow truck and ends up at this repair shop in a little town, you know the type, just a big Main Street but nothing else.”

“Sure.” She takes the last bite of her cone and crumples up the napkin.

“Okay. So the mechanic tells him it’ll be about an hour to figure out what’s wrong with the car, so the penguin waddles over to this cute little ice cream shop across the street.”

“Ah, synergy, I see what you did there,” she grins.

“I’m good that way. So the penguin gets himself some ice cream, and he’s sitting down enjoying it…”

“What flavor?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a joke killer? No? Alright, fine, it’s vanilla. And he loves it, right, he’s devouring it with his little bill. But penguins are not the most dextrous of animals, not having hands and all… so he’s having trouble managing his treat with his little flippers, gets a little messy, and it's all hot out so the ice cream's melting, you know how it is. But he doesn’t care because he’s having a grand old time. Anyway, the hour’s up, so he waddles back over to the repair shop and asks the mechanic if he’s found the problem with his car. The mechanic looks at him and says, ‘it looks like you blew a seal.’ The penguin freaks out and says, ‘no no, it’s just ice cream!’”

The subtle red tint in her cheeks creeps through her whole face and her eyes widen for just a moment before her shoulders start shaking and her face scrunches up. I’ve never seen her laugh so hard that she forgets to make noise, but it’s so fucking irresistible that somehow I’m doing it now too, and soon we’re both laugh-sobbing so hard my sides are aching. After several minutes and a lot of disapproving glances from passersby, we manage to collect ourselves. Cora wipes a tear from her eye.

“Okay okay okay, my turn... uh, have you heard the one about the nun who --”  

“Oh, please, Red, your Catholic schoolgirl humor is no match for a fellating penguin.”

“You think so? Shows what you know about Catholic school.” Her playful smile takes on a hint of puzzlement. “Hey, when did I tell you I went to Catholic school?”

“Uhm,” I take a moment to make sure I’ve got my dates right, “it was my birthday.”

“Really? You remembered that?”

“Yeah, wow, I listen to you. What a concept.”

There’s an expression of shock in her eyes that’s going to be the death of me.  I nudge her with my shoulder, “just make with the nun joke, will ya?”

“Yeah, uhm… okay, so Mother Superior’s at the convent, and she hears a knock on the door. She opens it up and is shocked to find two leprechauns standing at the door, holding their hats in their hands, all respectable-like…”

“Leprechauns? And my story was implausible?”

“Nah, you’re just funny when you’re all riled up,” she gives me a wicked look. “Anyway, the first leprechaun says, ‘Mother Superior, would you be havin’ any leprechaun nuns in this convent?’ And she says, ‘no, my son, we have no leprechaun nuns in this convent.’ So he asks, ‘and are there any leprechaun nuns in all of Ireland?’ And she says, ‘no, my son, I don’t believe there’s a single leprechaun nun in all of Ireland.’ So the leprechaun turns to his buddy and says, ‘oi, I told ye ye’d been fuckin’ a penguin!’”

We both crack up again, and this time she slumps into my shoulder while she tries to pull herself together. I lean back into her, trying to catch my breath too, but also jealously hoarding the feeling of having her so close. She lifts her face to look at me, her eyes still shining with laughter, her mouth curved open in an inviting smile, close enough that I can count the freckles on her nose, feel her breath on my lips… she smells like strawberries...

She inhales sharply and then tries to disguise it as a laugh as she sits up straight, fidgeting, her shoulders tensed up practically around her ears. “Ha, uhm, sugar high,” she stammers, blushing furiously.

She may be rattled, but I’m experiencing the exact opposite sensation. My brain seems to have slowed every other operation down to a crawl in order to make room for how all-consumingly I want to kiss her. “yeah, maybe,” I mumble sluggishly, trying not to smile too wide.

“We should probably get going, huh?” She bites her lip, glancing at our bikes. I nod, trying to think of something to break the tension.

“Uh, speaking of bikes… and nuns... have you heard the one about the side street?”

She shakes her head, watching me with a wary smile as we start walking our bikes back through the park toward the point where our routes diverge.

“Really, they didn’t teach you that one in Catholic school? The one about the two nuns who rode their bikes to the market, and they’re heading back to the convent? They decide to take a side street, this little cobblestone alley. After a couple of blocks, one nun says to the other, ‘I’ve never come this way before!’ and the other nun says, ‘must be the cobbles.’”

She cringes horribly, laughing in a much more frenzied way than I’ve ever heard, refusing to look at me. Damn it, I wish I didn’t have to go back to the gallery. I could spend all afternoon making her squirm with dirty jokes… or other methods…

Finally, she composes herself enough to rally with another joke, although she’s still stubbornly looking anywhere but at me. “What’s the difference between a woman and a computer?”

“Hm, you got me.”

“Computers don’t laugh at three and a half inch floppies.”

“Ohhh, brutal! Hey, did I ever tell you that I used to date an English teacher?” “No, why’d you break up?”

“She dumped me for improper use of the colon...”

***

Wednesday, October 24th, 1990

Okay, okay, so Operation Amputation’s kind of a colossal failure. Something about the combination of endearingly shy lead singers, my best friend dating the bassist, and the general Stoneness of Stone seems to be making that plan a little too complicated. Time to face facts, I can’t just cut them -- cut him -- out of my life. We’re way past that.

Not like I have any fucking clue what to do with that information, of course. So I settle for wiping this one section of the mirror behind the bar obsessively, until my reflection’s spotless…frowny and washed out under the ghastly halogen lights in this place, maybe, but spotless. At least the lunch shift has been pretty quiet so far today, letting me contemplate in peace. I don’t even look up when I hear the cafe’s front doorbell ring, signaling the arrival of a big group.

“What do you think you’re gonna find through the looking glass?” Eddie’s voice wafts over my shoulder, tinged with laughter, and even though I’m surprised by the ambush -- he’s flanked by Jeff, Chris, and Stone -- I have to laugh along with him.

“Hopefully no Jabberwocks.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“M’lady, a round of beers, if you’d be so kind?” Chris asks with a bow and a flourish, and Jeff bats his eyelashes. Eddie watches the two of them and laughs, but Stone’s quietly focused on me. His gaze makes me shaky all over again as my mind floods with sensory memories from yesterday. His green eyes, which were infinitely more vivid in the sunlight. The rhythm of his silent laughter shaking me as I leaned into his shoulder. The slight cedar smell of his sweatshirt. The way I imagined his lips feeling on mine, if we’d only leaned in a little closer. God, this is so much worse than I thought. I drop my washcloth and walk around the counter to say hi, hoping the rest of these idiots can distract me.

“How come you didn’t come out with us, Cora?” Jeff asks. “Eddie says you’re a big Jordan fan, you woulda loved it, he had a great game.”

“Bulls were victorious,” Eddie beams.

“Uhm, I just have a ton of work to do right now, you know, Patch and Alex are both leaving soon, and anyway I didn’t feel right going out on a school night,” I lie, trying not to look at the real reason for my absence, who is still watching me closely and who speaks up in his usual sardonic tone.

“Oh yes, there’s our good little Catholic girl,” Stone smirks.

Chris's eyes light up in that way that looks wholesome on most people’s faces but in his case always looks vaguely satanic. “Smokey Bear, I didn't know you were Catholic!”

“Recovering,” I fire back.

“Me too! I shoulda known, usually we can smell our own. Hey, you know what's even sexier than Catholic guilt?”

I shake my head, wary of where he’s going with this, and of the intensifying gleam in his eyes. He suddenly swirls an arm around me and dips me so low I worry my head’s going to hit the floor, but he’s got a tight hold on me.

“Absolutely nothing,” he sighs seductively in my ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. As he sets me back on my feet, the guys dissolve in laughter and chatter again, but Stone only gives me a tiny little smile. Even with Chris clowning around and monopolizing the whole cafe’s attention, it feels like there’s no one else in the room when Stone looks at me like that. I used to wish he wouldn’t do that. Now I don’t know what to wish.

The guys hang out at the bar for a while and finish their beers before saying goodbye, and I’ve just gotten back to my cleaning when I hear the bell ding a second time. When I turn around, my mind’s preoccupation is standing at the bar right in front of me, by himself.

“Uh, dropped my keys, had to run back,” Stone gives another little smile, waving his key ring as evidence and stowing it in his pocket. “Hey, you said Patch and Alex are both leaving? What’s going on?”

He really does listen, doesn’t he? “Oh, uh, Patch is heading out on a Greyhound on Friday morning, he’s gonna go visit a friend from high school who moved to Portland.”

“And Alex?”

“Work conference thing all next week, he leaves on Sunday.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. So forgive my antisocial behavior, I feel like I should probably spend time with them the next couple of days before I end up in an empty apartment for a whole week.”

“Sure, yeah. Just sucks, because I’m leaving Friday too.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“New York. With Jeff. We’re gonna meet with the record label folks and see if they’ll let us out of our old deal before we try to move ahead with this new stuff.”

“When are you leaving?”

“We fly out Friday some time, back Tuesday.”

I thought I’d feel relief at the idea of him traveling a few thousand miles away while I try to figure out what I’ve been feeling for him the past 48 hours, but somehow, relief’s not the word. What the hell, Stone, I’ve finally figured out that I can’t dodge you anymore, that I don’t even want to, and now you’re leaving town? No fair.

He seems to read my mind. In a soft, vulnerable voice I’ve never heard before, only slightly above a whisper, he asks very simply, “can I call you?”

His eyes widen with hope while he waits for my answer. A nod’s all I can manage, and only after he shoots me one more smile and ducks back out onto the street after the rest of the guys do I notice that I’ve been holding my breath.

#did you guess right? #chapter 15 #behind the sun #fanfiction #fanfic #stone gossard #jeff ament #eddie vedder #chris cornell #pearl jam #soundgarden

[aion-rsa]

The Green Knight Review: A King Arthur Movie Imbued with Dark Magic

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It’s been observed that to create, you must first destroy. There’s truth in this axiom, although at least in the case of Hollywood it’s worth a partial amendment. First, you must understand what it is you are destroying to make way for something new. Take the poems and tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, including Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: As centuries old IP, these stories have been adapted countless times, including recently—and often by filmmakers with no greater concern for their appeal than the public domain title they’ve decided to exploit.

Well, the team writer-director David Lowery assembled for his and A24’s The Green Knight understand Sir Gawain intimately. It’s there in the first scene when the alliterative prose from the 14th century poem is quoted near verbatim. And yet, by juxtaposing these words next to Dev Patel’s yet-to-be-knighted Gawain sitting on the throne of Camelot, stoic in all his kingly majesty, Lowery and company signal they’re doing more than just repeating an oft-told yarn. There is a darker force at work here, which can be as unsettling as the image of Gawain’s crowned head inexplicably being lit aflame at the end of this sequence.

The Green Knight is thus both a student of the past and a well-meaning raider of it; this is a film which will honor a story J.R.R. Tolkien singled out as one of the greatest works of English literature, as well as gracefully deconstruct it. There’s a singular, faintly mad vision at play in Lowery’s The Green Knight, and it’s led to one of the best films ever adapted from Arthurian lore.

When we meet Patel’s Gawain in earnest in the movie, he is clearly not yet a knight or a man of honor. After all, it’s Christmas morning when he’s awakened from his stupor in a brothel. As the nephew of old King Arthur (Sean Harris), Gawain is imbued by Patel with an earnest desire to live up to the laurels already bestowed on the Knights of the Round Table, but there’s also something unmistakably desperate and hungry about him when he arrives at his uncle’s court for a feast.

It is there that Arthur invites Gawain to sit by his throne on the high dais, next to Queen Guinevere (Kate Dickie), for the first time. Several chairs are conspicuously empty, including one intended for Gawain’s mother (Sarita Choudhury), but Gawain can sense his station is on the rise, even before the Green Knight (Ralph Ineson) enters. Carved from the literal leafy greens and weeds of the earth, Ineson’s knight better resembles a pagan god than any sort of man-at-arms. Yet it’s arms that concern this Yuletide intruder.

The Green Knight comes offering a game: Any man who has the courage to strike at him with a sword as harsh or kindly as he pleases can do so freely… so long as he agrees to endure the same blow in one year’s time. Gawain leaps at the opportunity to prove his valor, beheading the Green Knight in one smooth motion. The Emerald deity then picks up his rolling skull. It then laughs. A bargain’s been struck and they’ll meet again at the Green Chapel next Christmas.

The setup is painfully simple, including its roots in medieval notions of chivalry and the type of magical realism where talking severed heads are as common as ladies living in lakes. Yet the draw of Lowery’s film is how it encases viewers into this world with surreal splendor. There has not been another movie this year as sumptuously designed or elegantly framed. Nearly every shot of The Green Knight—particularly in the climactic Green Chapel—looks as if it was ripped from a fantasy novel’s cover or a 19th century canvas, and the inclusion of elements like ghosts, giants, and talking foxes (all of which Gawain will encounter on his quest to find that blasted chapel) only heightens the peculiar beauty of the piece.

Lowery is also allowed to lean into the painterly lushness of the piece because of the vitality and humanity Patel brings to every single scene he’s on screen: which is nearly all of them. Despite starring in a Best Picture winner more than a decade ago, Patel is an actor who’s seemed strangely underrated by the industry. As of late, the natural leading man has broken out with winning roles as David Copperfield and in Lion, but as Gawain he may have at last found a vehicle to display the full range of his charisma to a larger audience.

Patel’s Gawain is neither a hero nor a revisionist fiend. Rather he’s a well realized portrait of paradoxes. Here’s a young man who wishes to be noble and true, but is driven on his seemingly suicidal quest to find the Green Knight’s chapel entirely out of fear of shame and what others might say; he fears death to the point of seeming cowardly, and yet is eager to face the Green Knight’s axe, if only to learn what this game might really be about. Gawain is a flawed, potentially doomed protagonist, but Patel keeps the pathos of the would-be knight always at the surface, even during the character’s most scandalous and selfish moments.

The rest of the cast is also formidable in helping The Green Knight weave its enchantment. Despite being covered under makeup and prosthetics, The Witch’s Ineson brings a playfulness to the title character somewhat akin to a Disney character with a bloodlust; and Alicia Vikander pulls double duty in dual roles that it would be a spoiler to detail beyond that they represent twin sides of femininity for Gawain—and the inherent limitations of living your life by chivalric codes or medieval thinking. However, in one of these roles Vikander gets the best monologue in the film where she raises more questions than answers about what this quest is all about… including why is a green knight green?

That may be what challenges audiences most. Despite being based on a well-worn folk tale, The Green Knight is not an easy movie to follow once Gawain accepts his fate and leaves Camelot behind for a wilderness drenched in magic and weirdness. Shrouded in mysteries, both medieval and modern, it is designed to confound and intrigue, and probably be viewed more than once. It is a bit like discovering an ancient tome of witchcraft that’s not intended for young eyes. You’re not entirely sure what its incantations mean, but you cannot look away. For some that will be infuriating, but I found it spellbinding.

The Green Knight opens Friday, July 30.

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