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wecantseeyou · 3 years

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a word on color - how line of duty series 6 uses wardrobe color to frame narrative (pt 4)

Author’s note: this is the conclusion to my essay on wardrobe color and how it’s used to inform narrative in series 6 of line of duty. Previous parts can be found here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. This part covers episodes 5, 6, and 7. Heads up, my analysis of episode 7 is actually quite short because of my focus on Jo, but I have many, MANY thoughts on Kate’s second to last scene and the general wardrobe choices for Kate in this episode.

Thank you to everyone who has been willing to entertain my ramblings here. While I have a background in theatrical production, this kind of meta analysis was quite new for me. I was relieved to see (most) of this theory actualized in the finale. Now, this part is nearly 8k words, all four parts together clocked in at over 20k words and nearly 40 pages, single-spaced, so I’ve officially written a third dissertation (after the other two took me 10 months…).

Regular warnings apply: I’m American and therefore may be missing certain cultural context. Spoilers abound, but I stick to Jo’s storyline for the most part, and don’t include my thoughts about the finale writ large (I may write an analysis of the series 6 storytelling separate from this, if there’s interest).

Read on below the cut.

EPISODE 5

Episode 5 opens with Lomax briefing Jo and Kate about connections between the armed robbery and Gail Vella's murder, showing them results for an industrial estate that matches the description given by one of the robbers. Jo is wearing the same outfit she ended episode 4 in, the orangish brown sweater and navy suit, while Kate is wearing a grey jacket over a white shirt, buttoned all the way up. A side note - this grey jacket does not fit in with the rest of the wardrobe Kate has been in all series, and from a meta perspective, this is because they have to conceal the firearm Kate is now carrying. Ryan watches from the other room, again in a call back to the way Jo was watching Kate in episode 3. Kate tries to talk to Jo, but she's quickly brushed off, much to Kate's chagrin.

Jo’s outfit, which we’ve seen her in numerous times, again demonstrates her pull between what’s right and pressure from the OCG. After all, Ryan has just threatened her twice. She knows that the investigation is heading in the right direction, which she both wants and is afraid of, and she is panicking. At the same time, she’s wary of letting Kate get too close lest she suspect something and acts on it, putting them both in danger.

Kate’s outfit actually shows some of that forced distance Jo is causing. We’ve seen her wear a white shirt buttoned all the way to the top once before - when she spoiled the raid of MIT by AC-12. That outfit showed her pull between Jo and AC-12, and we’re seeing that here again. This time though, the grey jacket shows that she’s leaning AC-12.

We see this in the next scene where Steve, in his grey suit with a white shirt and red tie, is directly paralleling his former partner’s wardrobe. Kate visits AC-12, and it's been revealed that she has permission to carry a concealed firearm because of the threat Ryan Pilkington poses. Now, call me crazy, but I believe we’re meant to understand he’s a threat to her at least in part because of her relationship to Jo, but I’m uncertain. When Ted asks for an update, Kate notes that Jo has become "cold and distant" toward her, and the team reveals Jo has been put under surveillance, which Kate isn't happy about. It's then revealed that Jo is related to Tommy Hunter (from series 1 and 2) through incest, which is of course horrifying, though we don’t know the full story of it quite yet.

Back at her apartment, Jo checks the laptop to find out the OCG won't let her go because of AC-12's continued investigation, which she promises to take care of. She’s surrounded by her blue flat, in her navy and orange outfit, her actions and heart still at conflict with one another. She’s distraught, and stuck.

Later, Kate and Steve meet in an underground car park in their matching navy coats. Steve shares that Lakewell gave him information off the record, which is that Gail Vella had been looking into the death of Lawrence Christopher at the time of her death. He also tells Kate about his discovery that Hastings gave Steph Corbett the missing $50k of supposed bribe money (from series 5). The former partners match here because they are coming closer to being full partners again, working in tandem and trusting one another with information. They have been at odds this series, particularly when it comes to Jo, but they have remained on the same page in their disappointment in the gaffer and belief in finding justice for Gail Vella.

Back at MIT, Kate is looking into the industrial parks that may hold an OCG workshop. As she researches, she repeatedly looks over at Jo in her office and seems to have an idea. She then steps out of the office and calls Steve, though we don’t see the details of their conversation. Kate returns to the office and goes into Jo's office, telling her that they may have found the OCG workshop. She asks to brief the team immediately to avoid leaks, which Jo allows while glancing out at the bullpen. We can see once Kate leaves that she was looking at Ryan, who is watching her closely.

We don't know it yet, but Kate has found a way to test Jo’s loyalty and her belief that Jo isn’t bent. She tells the team about 1 location, makes them hand up their phones (which pisses them all off), and Jo makes them all stay within the MIT offices just as Ryan is about to step out. As the briefing ends, Kate goes to Jo’s office once more and demands to speak with her, despite Jo’s rude and annoyed response.

It’s later revealed that Kate then tells Jo there are 3 total locations to be looked at, but they’re starting with just one. Meanwhile, AC-12 surveillance teams are stationed at all three locations to see if people are tipped off and by who.

In these scenes, Kate is wearing a navy suit with a light blue shirt buttoned to the top, while Jo is wearing a grey suit with a grey turtleneck. For both women, the high necklines that fully encircle their throats indicates their discomfort and their desire to have a wall up for their own protection. We see Kate in all blue as she’s on a crusade to prove the truth - Jo isn’t bent, and this will reveal who is (as she suspects Ryan). Jo, meanwhile, is uncertain, and her monochrome grey outfit reflects that. Normally, this is the type of thing she would be expected to tip off to the OCG (as she did with Carl Banks), but Kate has cleverly made it so she can’t. She’s trying to push Kate away, but Kate keeps pushing herself right back in. She’s meant to be wary of Ryan, but she stopped him from an opportunity to send out a warning - and that’s before she knew there were three potential locations. All Jo knows is that she wants out from this lie and constant threat she’s lived under. She’s in all grey, not true blue but certainly not a warm tone, because she hasn’t decided what her next step is yet. Temporarily neutral.

The initial raid is not a success, so Jo informs the team that they'll move on to the other locations instead, revealing that she and Kate did not give them all of the information. Lomax is pissed off, and directs that anger at Kate. From his perspective, the boss just told them she doesn’t trust him or the team and treated them all like a potential rat, and he chalks that up to the former AC-12 officer’s involvement. In an interesting parallel, Jo and Kate are wearing the same outfits under their body armor that we saw them in during the raid in the first episode - Jo in her black jacket and Kate in her green jacket.

During this raid, Ryan snuck out to call in the danger to the OCG from a burner phone, an act which was recorded by Chloe “the only real detective” Bishop. Steve, at the real OCG workshop, rushes in with his team which results in the deaths of two suspects. Jo and the MIT team arrive on the scene not long after, and Jo and Steve come to disagreement over jurisdiction, and she ultimately forces him to stand down using her rank (which we’ll see her flex once more later in the episode). I have to say, I have loved watching Jo and Steve come to blows in this series in part because Jo is so much better at it than he is. Steve truly has been Jo’s foil, contradicting her at every point. We see this even in their clothes in this scene. While Jo is wearing a grey turtleneck (typically in the AC-12 color palette), it is hidden under her black jacket, and Steve is wearing a blue shirt under his body armor. On the visual face, they appear to be working at opposite ends to one another, and in this moment they are.

Back at AC-12, Kate debriefs the team on what happened and let's them in on the honey trap* (*not really) Kate set for Jo, which she didn't fall for (but Pilkington did). The team is taken aback, and Hastings points out how risky a move that was. "As far as I'm concerned, that's proof she's not bent," Kate replies, stubborn to the end. Steve has a different interpretation - Jo assigned herself to the raid on the location with the workshop, and took control of the crime scene from him. "That doesn't fit with what I've witnessed firsthand. I needed to know one way or another." Kate will not back down from her staunch belief that Jo is not bent, an unfortunate foreshadow to Jo’s eventual betrayal. Hastings sides with Steve, but Kate clearly still disagrees. However, Steve does believe Ryan should be removed from MIT, even as Hastings wants to keep him there. This raises their suspicions because Kate had originally talked the gaffer out of bringing Ryan in, but the reality of the matter is that Ted feels he’s on a ticking clock with his forced retirement, and wants to handle this fourth man situation before he goes.

Kate and Steve are again in coordinated outfits here, dressed head to toe in blue. We’ve seen this before, the former partners in clothes that parallel one another while seemingly at odds. Sadly, this is because they’re again both right about Jo. She is using her position (and even Kate’s trust) to manipulate the investigation, but that manipulation stems from fear for her own safety as she herself is being manipulated and doesn’t want to do what she’s done. She’s like a cat stuck in a box - bent and not bent.

On the Hill, Kate gives the team the low down on the OCG warehouse and their next steps. Jo congratulates the team and tells them to get to work collecting forensic evidence while Pilkington sends laser eyes her way. This time it’s Kate wearing a turtleneck, this one in black under an olive suit jacket, while Jo wears a grey suit with a grey-green sweater and a blue shirt buttoned all the way to the top. Again, the high necks of these outfits demonstrate the discomfort and reservedness both women are feeling, but we also see a subtle connection with the green tints of their clothes. As usual, green represents the pull between two different compelling interests. For Kate, the pull between Jo and AC-12, for Jo the pull between Kate and the OCG.

Wearing these same outfits, Jo catches up with Kate outside of Hillside, where she confronts her about AC-12's knowledge of the raids. Kate tells her she tipped them off because they're making a lawful inquiry. "Look, I'm telling you the truth Jo, because I trust you with it." Jo takes advantage of Kate sharing the information with AC-12 and tells Kate to put in a transfer request, saying, "I wouldn't want to harm your career, Kate. It's best if you request a transfer." Kate is taken aback and asks "You've been distant with me for days. Is this personal?" Jo denies this, pulling rank the same way she did with Steve, "I'm your senior officer, I should be distant." Kate seems confused and concerned with her response of "But I thought we were friends. What's happening here?" And here we see Jo’s fear crack through her irritation, just for a moment, when she says, "So you can tell AC-12?" As much as Jo is pushing Kate away in order to get her out of the picture, she also has a real fear that Kate continuing to share information with Steve will get Jo killed. She’s playing up Kate’s betrayal to explain her anger, but she’s also hurt and she wants her to know that. Jo trusts Kate, even if she doesn’t trust her enough to tell her the truth on her own. Up until this point, Kate has worked with her and told her about AC-12’s work, even helping her get a leg up on Steve. Now Kate’s helping AC-12 get a leg up on her.

But Kate is nothing if not determined. "No, I wouldn't tell them personal stuff." Kate refuses to take the transfer, and Jo leaves in frustration and anxiety, leaving Kate confused yet again.

Back at Jo's flat, she's on the OCG laptop again. She tells the user she can handle AC-12, but they claim she can't because of Fleming. Jo tries to ask for more time to sort it, but time's up. "Get rid of her." Get rid of Kate, the last person Jo trusts, the one who just broke her trust.

And here is Jo’s betrayal. "As long as it's my last job." She looks devastated after she sends it, and she is. What she’s about to do is unforgivable. But scared and vulnerable people often do unforgivable things to save themselves. Jo just wants to be free, and she’s willing to pay a price for freedom.

Steve, in his iconic grey suit and navy tie, goes to visit Ian Banks in prison and learns that Ted is the one that disclosed John Corbett's identity that later got him killed. He later calls Kate to tell her the news. Matching Steve, Kate is in a navy shirt, but is wearing a black suit, only the second time we’ve seen her in this suit. The first was in episode 2, when she gave Jo the information about AC-12 and they later had dinner together.

Kate heads back into Hillside after her conversation with Steve and runs into Jo in the hallway, who asks to meet with her outside of work to discuss their 'personal issues'. Jo specifically looks at officers further down the hall to confirm they're leaving before speaking to Kate. She also lowers her voice at her own mention of personal issues, adding an extra layer of privacy to an already empty hall.

Checking to make sure there alone is something that Jo and Kate have done frequently throughout this series. In the handhold scene, they break apart when officers step into the hall. They mention how it’s easier to talk outside of work during both of their dinner scenes. When Kate tells Jo about Ryan’s spying, she dismisses Chris first, and later in that conversation when Jo puts her hand on Kate’s arm, they pull apart when they hear officers approaching.

Kate is surprised at Jo’s sudden change in behaviour from the past few days, but she agrees to meet with Jo after work. As Jo walks away, Kate clearly knows that something is up with her, but seems willing to find out what it is when they speak.

What Kate is sadly unaware of is that Jo walks away to lock herself in the bathroom and have a breakdown, distraught at the machination she has set in motion against Kate. Her hand shakes as she locks the stall, she falls to the ground, she looks around desperately for salvation. Jo’s mask, one that she maintains so strictly, falls for just a moment (not dissimilar to her breakdown in her car after framing Farida). Thirty seconds in a toilet stall to breakdown, to think about the consequences of her actions, about what she’s done to Kate. But she takes a few deep breaths, wipes away her tears, and we watch as her mask slips back into place.

Back at AC-12, Chloe “my back is worse than Steve’s from carrying this investigation” Bishop has uncovered more about the racist gang that attacked Lawrence Christopher, including the investigators, Buckells and the current Chief Constable. This was the story Gail Vella was looking into when she was murdered, and appears to be the reason for her death. Steve is wearing the same grey suit and navy tie as when he spoke with Kate, and while he’s grateful for Chloe for digging everything up, he’s also concerned that the young Black woman had to learn so many details about the lynching of a young Black man. [Note: to be incredibly clear, the death of Lawrence Christopher as described by the script was a lynching, and the narrative did not do enough to reckon with that fact for anything more than relevance to the global racial justice uprisings reborn in late May of 2020. More than willing to discuss this further if anyone cares for my thoughts.] As they discuss the case, Patty Carmichael walks in with gusto (and damn if that voice isn't an incredible acting choice). She’s taking over AC-12, and she’s cancelling the surveillance on Jo and Ryan.

That night, Kate arrives at Frederico's to meet Jo, who calls her the moment she’s locked her car to ask to meet somewhere less public, for claims of privacy. Kate is immediately on alert, especially after her attempts to convince Jo to stick with the original plan. But after a small plea from Jo, she acquiesces, but not without caution. Kate immediately knows something is off - this is not how Jo interacts with her. Little do we know, Pilkington is skulking in Jo's backseat, coaching her actions.

As an aside, this is also the only time we see them meeting out of work while they're both wearing casual clothes, not just the clothes they wore to the office.

Kate drives to the lorry park and calls Steve, because she's both an idiot and a genius. He’s wearing the same suit as before, grey with a navy tie. She learns that surveillance was pulled on Jo and Ryan, and explains Jo's odd behaviour, forwarding him the address. Unfortunately, their conversation is cut short by Carmichael, which immediately sets Kate on high alert and she ends the call. Just as Kate is about to leave, Jo pulls into the lot, and the tension escalates.

Steve receives the address and immediately informs Hastings and Chloe, ordering the team to get a unit ready. The team starts to rush out and Carmichael asks for calm, which Ted isn't gonna do when one of his people is in danger. AC-12 isn’t about to let Kate down.

At the lorry park, a distraught Jo gets out of her car and approaches Kate’s car. Kate tries to convince Jo to go somewhere else, but all Jo can say is that she's sorry. Kate is confused, but that goes away pretty quickly once an armed bent bastard steps out of Jo's car. He gloats to Kate, saying "Jo wanted to give you a way out. Should've put in for that transfer." Kate tries to convince Ryan to put the gun down, that the authorities will find him, but it doesn't work. Which is when Kate makes a gamble - she tells Ryan about the surveillance on him and Jo. Ryan tries to blame Jo for their situation, but she acts none the wiser (even though Kate told her about Ryan’s surveillance in the previous episode).

"Why would she come here otherwise?"

Sure, Jo is playing down her relationship with Kate for Ryan’s sake, but it isn’t quite that simple. Jo doesn't want to believe Kate had any faith in her. She wants to believe she was pretending, because she has no faith in herself. Her reaction does provide enough of a distraction for Kate to be able to pull her own weapon, and the most tense standoff ever begins...

One of the most key color choices of any outfits so far on the show are the clothes Jo and Kate wear to the lorry park where Jo sets up Kate to be killed by Ryan. Jo is wearing her grey coat, a blue sweatshirt, and a red top. Kate is wearing a blue coat, and a blue striped sweater with a band of red in the middle. These two outfits are ultimately the thesis statement between these two women. Jo is wearing red as her last layer, the one closest to her, but is surrounded by cool tones through her sweatshirt and coat. Meanwhile, Kate’s sweater has a stripes of red and orange surrounded by shades of blue.

But it doesn’t matter that Kate is being visually connected to Jo, because Jo is about to be responsible for her death via Ryan ‘the bent bastard’ Pilkington.

EPISODE 6

Nevermind though, no death for our beloved Kate!

Now, I’m going to take the next parts of the episode slightly out of order in order to tackle Kate and Jo together before their ultimate confrontation with Steve and AC-12. First, a run down of the AC-12 crew: Hastings is in full uniform, which represents his ultimate faith in the system, despite the bad actors and groups that try to destroy it. Carmichael is wearing a grey coat, aligning her with anti-corruption, but it’s piped along the edges with red, which shows how she’s opposed to AC-12 (though not necessarily corrupt). Steve is in his classic blue on blue on blue under his body armor, which shows his dedication to justice and also his faith in Kate. Carmichael confronts him directly about Kate’s whereabouts, which he fastidiously denies having any knowledge of, but unfortunately Hastings is forced to admit that Kate was permitted to carry a concealed firearm for safety. Steve doesn’t trust Carmichael, and this is shown back at the office when he tracks what Patty C is up to, mobilizing Hastings when she’s on the move.

At first glance, Kate and Jo’s red and blue outfits read as a visual metaphor for AC-12 closing in on their location, but I posit that these outfits are also indicative of Kate's belief in Jo, despite her anger that Jo has just set up her death. It’s clear at this point that their simple flirty banter from the beginning of the season has evolved into a deeper connection, which is part of what makes Jo’s betrayal so painful - Kate has been on her side the whole time. Jo just didn’t know it. [note: wrote this before the finale so guess who has egg on her face now…]

After a time jump (of nearly two hours, based on someone else’s analysis of time stamps and radio calls), Kate and Jo arrive at Steve's apartment. Jo asks if Steve can be trusted, and Kate leaves no doubt. Jo also asks why the surveillance got pulled, and Kate informs her about the chief and Carmichael. Jo denies having any part of it, but Kate isn't sure if she can believe her given the whole, you know, attempted murder thing. In a desperate bid to prove her loyalty to Kate, Jo asks for her gun, intentionally putting her prints on the murder weapon. Again, their coordinating outfits are the outward manifestation of their connection. Kate, while still angry, seems to accept what Jo is offering to her, but is clearly trying to maintain distance in the moment.

Jo then tries to see if things between them were real, but Kate refuses to entertain the conversation. What Jo is completely unaware of at this point is the lengths to which Kate has gone to prove that Jo isn't bent, up to and including risking a crucial raid on the OCG workshop. To Kate, it's a question that doesn't need to be asked, [the egg on my face remains] but Kate is also in disbelief that Jo would question her feelings when she's the one who was nearly killed by Jo. It’s an inappropriate time to have this discussion, and Kate lets that be known. They find Steve's personal car, a slate grey Mazda because this show is nothing if not subtle with its vehicular choices - even their personal vehicles tie in to their allegiance with AC-12’s mission.

Driving in Steve's car, Jo asks again if Kate was pretending with Jo, and Kate diverts the conversation away from herself. Was Jo lying to her when she hired Kate because she was ex-anti-corruption? No, she was hoping Kate, with her anti-corruption background, would stop her. Would save her, really. They discuss Jo's ongoing work for the OCG, and Jo's fear that she'll be killed if she turns, just like Tommy. She insists that she's not bent and Kate implores her to prove it.

Kate is pissed [for the non-Americans, she’s very angry, not drunk…] in this scene, as she should be. She believed in Jo, she still believes in Jo, but she betrayed her in a major way. And now, when Kate is sticking her neck out for Jo again, she's still too scared to reveal what she knows. Jo does reveal that Tommy was her uncle, and that her father was a bent cop, which of course doesn’t align with what Kate knows. At Kate's further insistence, Jo directs them toward Gail Vella's house, and finally to the old print shop the OCG had used in the past that is across from Terry Boyle’s flat.

Kate and Jo arrive at the print shop, and Jo is finally about to reveal the truth to Kate. This act, coupled with putting her prints on the gun, earns Jo back a little bit of the trust she lost, and this is shown when the two women share the same shot. Most of the scenes between Jo and Kate have been over the shoulder shots where one woman is the primary focus, and this scene pivots to end with both of them together as the focus. This change happens in time with Kate dropping some of her much-deserved hostility toward the other woman.

But before they can step out of the car, flashing lights and sirens appear behind them - they've been found. The fact that they've been tracked shocks Kate, but she spends no time dwelling as she throws the car into drive and speeds away. AC-12 AFOs have set up an intercept point, which Kate ignores in a truly badass handbrake turn, no matter if it makes any sense that they could have possibly known the route Kate would take in order to set up a kind of road block.

Handbrake turn or no, the Mazda has been intercepted and Kate and Jo are stuck. Kate is still confused that they've been found, but Jo knows the jig is up and tells Kate she's going to say she forced her to drive. It isn't until Jo tells her they have no other choice that Kate gets out of the car. Once out, Jo puts her hands up, but Kate refuses. Just then, AC-12 arrives with Carmichael, and Kate is in shock. "Jesus Christ, Steve's in on it" - cut to Jo's panicked face. This is the man Kate said they could trust, and now he's after them too.

What follows is a very tense standoff between the two fleeing detectives and AC-12. Jo surrenders, but Kate refuses. First Carmichael tries, then Hastings (at which point Kate tells Jo she learned some shady stuff about him), and then finally Steve walks up to them. Jo begs Kate to surrender repeatedly, but the DI believes she’s onto her second major betrayal of the night and she isn’t willing to give in that easily. She thought she could trust Jo, and she nearly killed her, and to her mind she trusted Steve and he turned her over to Carmichael.

Kate is prepared to tear him a new asshole, but he swears up and down that he has no idea how they got tracked, he wouldn't do that to her. Once he promises to get the two women into safety, Kate surrenders. As he walks them in, Kate shared Ryan's confession of murder and Jo's clue about the print shop. To the end, Kate believes in justice and will pursue it.

We then see a disillusioned Kate in her all grey Fruit of the Loom being walked into her jail cell. She sits down on the plastic mattress, looking at a total loss.

Later that night, Steve and Hastings are discussing the events of the previous few hours. Steve is in a grey suit with a blue shirt and tie, same as he had been wearing during the chase. The gaffer questions why Steve didn't tell him about Kate, and Steve claims it was to prevent putting him in a difficult position with Patty C, who walks in with the same question. Apparently, the former partners have keys to each other's houses and vehicles, in case of emergency. Carmichael taking Steve's phone would've read to Kate as an emergency. Steve refuses to back down, and she appears to drop it for the moment.

Now, onto Jo’s interrogation. A lot happens in this thirty minute scene, but to boil down to the important points: Jo is wearing her best Fruit of the Loom, stripping her of her identity and any affiliations she has. The lighting in this scene is cold and sterile, completely cool in tone. Steve sits with Carmichael and Hastings on the other side of the table, dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, and red tie.

Something very important to note in this scene is Jo’s reliance on Steve. He speaks with her gently, acknowledges her pain, and encourages her to be truthful even when it is clearly very difficult. She takes Kate’s trust in him at face value and decides to trust him too. His outfit actually reflects this truth. He’s wearing the same red and blue that Kate and Jo wore while they were on the run - blue surrounds the red. As much as Jo is trusting Steve here because of Kate, Steve is being kind to Jo here for the same reason. His partner and friend does the right thing nearly always - if she was willing to go to these lengths to defend Jo, he owes it to her to learn the truth. Nothing exemplifies this more than when the conversation turns to Pilkington’s death.

Jo refuses to answer at first and actually waits for AC-12 to show its hand first. She notices that Steve hesitates when Carmichael instructs him to talk about the evidence regarding Kate's gun, and she realizes this is her in, this is how she can prove herself to Kate once and for all. It's only after this that she claims to have shot Pilkington and completely shifts the blame from Kate to herself. This catches both Steve and Hastings up, and they react in obvious shock, which changes how Hastings treats her through the rest of the interview and cements Steve’s belief in Kate’s trust. Afterwards, she looks to Steve, who nods. He understands what she just did for Kate, and Jo is relieved to see his comprehension. The questioning continues, and Jo only admits to what she can take direct responsibility for, but nothing that involves the larger network.

Once Carmichael and Hastings leave, she quickly turns to Steve and says a desperate "I'm so sorry." Sorry for hiding evidence in Operation Lighthouse. Sorry for framing Farida. Sorry for what she’s done to Kate.

And Steve, gentle when he can be, gives her a kind "Yeah, me too," in reply. I’m sorry you were groomed into the OCG. I’m sorry you were scared for your life. I’m sorry you hurt Kate, too.

Patty C goes to talk to Kate, and lets her know she won't be charged for Ryan's murder - Jo will be. Kate has a look of relief on her face as she processes the information. But Patty C notes Jo isn't firearms trained, and Kate is. She's telling Kate she knows what really happened, and she's letting it slide. This time. Kate is well aware that Carmichael isn’t stupid - she knows Jo was lying and is only letting Kate get away with it because it better serves her interests. Kate is free, and she sighs with relief and the knowledge of what Jo did.

Steve, still in the same outfit from the interview, and Kate, in a navy pea coat and yellow sweater, meet in an underground car park. once she's been released. A quick note on Kate’s coat: I’d love to say there’s a deeper meaning for the shift in her coat, but I genuinely think it’s just because filming was originally in the spring, then was moved to the fall and continued until November, so it was simply colder. The cut and color of the coat are generally the same, despite the style changing.

Steve offers to lend an ear about the shooting, and then Kate asks about Jo's interview. Steve tells her they didn't get enough information out of her, and Kate tells him that Jo told her that her dad was an officer. "She's scared, Steve. After what happened to Tommy, Dot, Lakewell, nevermind John Corbett". Kate’s anger seems to have dissipated at least a little at this point, because here she is, defending Jo by explaining why she wasn’t forthcoming with a lot of information. This is most obvious through her yellow sweater - still affiliated with Jo, even through everything else. Steve lets her know that Jo is in a secure cell with extra monitoring, which seems to appease her. Kate then informs him she's been made SIO at MIT, and will guarantee cooperation with AC-12. Lomax calls Kate, and the two partners are back working together.

Kate and Steve meet Lomax at the OCG workshop, where he goes over the forensic findings so far as MIT’s resident plot reciter. Kate tells him they need to look further, and orders him to dig up the floor, ruining the poor man’s plans for the evening.

Chloe calls Steve with an update on Thurwell. Then we get a weird scene of darkvision Spanish police apprehending Thurwell. Truly hate it. He's dead. It's a deadend. Clever writing, Jed.

The episode ends with Jo in her navy blue jumper being put into her cell at Brentiss. Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, Lindsay Denton’s besties, walk up threateningly before Jo is led into her cell and the door is shut. I do love the shot here of Jo through the door, caught in a small tight space that’s almost closing in on her.

EPISODE 7

Before I fully jump into Episode 7, please be aware that I am doing a textual analysis. I’m not going to go into the fourth man reveal and its logic or even greater meaning (particularly because I’m looking at this show from a different political context as an American), and I’m not going to speculate on things not seen, at least in this analysis, because the focus is on wardrobe. You can trust I have many thoughts, particularly around race and the writing around female characters, some of which I’ve included but most of which I did not. It took me 9 full days to write everything for this one episode, and was shockingly exhausting. Forgive me if it doesn’t live up to my other ramblings.

We’ll jump right into things. I'm gay but Steve looks so good here in his AC-12 uniform. Anyways, Steve is watching Hastings' old interview with Carmichael about Ian Banks. His concern about Hastings is clear. He’s in pursuit of justice, even if justice puts him up against the gaffer.

Later, Steve and Kate discuss the gaffer and his suspicious behaviour, and he informs her that Ted is slated for retirement. Steve wants to let it go, but Kate refuses. She asks if Steph Corbett knows anything more, and suggests she may be blackmailing Hastings, but Steve is dismissive of it. This causes Kate to raise an eyebrow - oh god Steve's done it again. Steve pleads "It's not like that, mate, it's different," and Kate has never looked more disbelieving and annoyed. She responds, "She's a person of interest,” and their conversation is cut short when Chris calls Kate with an update. Steve is still in his navy suit, and Kate in her yellow sweater. The lack of coordination in these clothes show Kate isn’t quite on the same page as Steve yet, but they’re getting there.

Lomax tells them there was a case found in the floor of the workshop, much like the one holding Gail Vella's computers at the abandoned print shop that Jo led them to. No comment on the OCG’s evidence techniques.

Steve, who kept skipping his occupational health warnings, is in therapy. I didn't cover the OH stuff throughout this analysis since it didn't relate to Jo, but this manages to tie in later so here it is now. It ends in him agreeing to temporarily give up his firearms license. I'm not going to discuss the rest of the meeting, given that Steve seemed to kick his pill addiction and reliance on alcohol and pain relievers to deal with his back pretty damn quickly and it's a storyline of entirely no relevance except as something Ted holds over Steve in a moment of manipulation later. Steve also admits this to Hastings before Occupational Health can tell him. This entire storyline is frustrating. Moving on!

Kate is watching Jo's AC-12 interview at her desk on the Hill, specifically rewinding to parts concerning who Jo believed her father was. She pauses it on a frame of Jo’s face, the terror clear. Kate is dressed in a black suit and a light blue shirt, back on the side of AC-12 and in pursuit of justice, not only with regard to the OCG, but for Gail Vella and Jo.

Steph calls Steve again, and he ignores it, because he's being a bit of a dick. Then he steps out of his car and has a back spasm. This only comes up so Kate can ask about it later and show that Steve, wearing a blue jacket, listened to what she said about getting close to a person of interest. Would truly love to know why Steve parks by an underpass by a river for this scene, but needs must, I guess.

Back at Hillside, another Lomax briefing! Because Chris, Chloe, and sometimes Kate are truly the only people who do any detecting in the entire series!!! Anyways, Chris tells Steve and Kate about the contents of the box under the floor of the workshop. Conveniently, it held four murder weapons (can Jed Mercurio spell deus ex machina?) and neatly tied a bow on Corbett, Bindra, and Vella's deaths, and in a nice series 1 throwback, Jackie Laverty's murder! Kate is wearing a grey turtleneck which coordinates beautifully with Steve’s grey suit, blue tie, and blue shirt. This shows that they’re back on the same page and on the same team, despite their ups and downs this series.

Kate and Steve return to AC-12, where Kate in her new navy pea coat shares that the proceedings against Terry Boyle will be stopped. Except, to my knowledge, Jo already handled that...? They literally made a point of it in her interview. Anyway, Chloe, like Chris, did all the detective work and tells them that the IP of the OCG laptop is in the UK, not Spain as previously believed. Amanda from forensics, the only other person who does any real work, interrupts with a message that shows Jo is about to be targeted. Definitely is spelled wrong. I give up. They feel the need to spell out what JD and BP mean, but spend 3 episodes never explaining what a CHIS is. Sure. Chloe is tasked with finding the fourth man via spelling.

Also I'm truly not being funny by why is Kate on the investigation board in AC-12. Like. What. Was she a suspect? She’s not with the other victims!

A very forlorn Jo in her blue Brentiss jumpsuit is sitting in her prison cell before being collected for transport to Hillside. Jo is very aware that something must be wrong because she’s a damn fine detective. She's mad suspicious as they head out to the van, and lo and behold, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are on the transport team.

En route to Brentiss, they learn that Lomax and Kate's signatures were forged on the production order for Jo. Meanwhile, Jo is too smart for her own good, and questions the guard during the transport about the requesting officer. Tweedle Dee plays dumb.

And then… nothing happens. They intercepted the van in advance, removed Jo, and planted Steve and Kate on the van. Because Steve is such a great choice what with his being an UNARMED OFFICER AT THE TIME. They arrest everyone. Steve ends up with a gun. Ok.

In an interrogation room, Kate and Steve explain what happened to Jo. Hastings looks on. Kate tells Jo she can apply to witness protection, and that all of her notes will show that she was under coercion from others, giving her a shot at the life she never had, but only if she reveals who the top man is, aka her father. Jo begins to cry, and Steve reminds her those OCG men were sent to kill her - this man doesn't care for her. Jo begins to tell them that she had no reason to believe Tommy was lying to her, all while speaking only to Kate. Steve encourages her further, telling her she's not bent. Kate asks her one last time for the name, and we see Jo resolve to say something before the scene cuts. Heaven forbid we show something happening instead of faking built suspense.

Now, I need to pause here for a small moment of rage. Kate should have been the one who got the call back line by telling Jo she's not bent. Not for any romantic reason, but because their little run from the police stunt was done at least in part under the auspices that Jo could prove to Kate that she wasn't bent. In fact, Kate pleads with Jo to do so. It's just frustrating, and gives Steve an emotional beat he hasn't truly earned with Jo, or at least hasn’t earned as much as Kate.

And Jo gives them a name! They search a prison cell, and find nothing. It's really built up to seem like it's Fairbank, who is revealed to be a confused old dude. Why Jo thought she was communicating with him this entire time is simply never addressed. Whatever. They ask about the murders and cover ups, and he offers nothing. Kate asks about Jo, and after some more pushing, Fairbank implicitly agrees that he and Tommy Hunter convinced Jo he was her father. Hastings is pissed, but Chloe calls to save the day (again).

Chloe "I should be Chief Constable" Bishop brings the team up to speed on the text search for incorrect spellings of the word definitely. Which they've apparently managed to do in a matter of hours, even on handwritten reports from 17 years prior! Because Jed has definitely never needed to do a text analysis by hand before. They then proceed to NEVER NAME THE SUSPECT. FOR 1 MINUTE AND 10 SECONDS.

Oh but don't worry, because this is the perfect opportunity for our realigned partners to confront Hastings about the bribe money and his conversations with Ian Banks. Can't reveal who the fourth man is when the head of the investigation is also a bent cop, silly audience. And it's revealed that Ted leaked Corbett as a UCO because of Corbett's role in the attack on Hastings' wife. But it's okay because he's sorry about it!

To be hella clear: Hastings, an anti-corruption officer who prides himself on following the letter of the law, took actions he knew would result in the death of John Corbett and Kate later forgives him for it. Jo was under threat of death from the OCG and tried to get rid of Kate via transfer and then led her to an empty lorry park to be killed while she thought Ryan was under surveillance that could likely intervene, and we in no way see Kate react to that experience in this episode. Cool!

Finally, we get the interview with the fourth man, which is revealed 8 minutes and 32 seconds after the characters themselves learn the information. For some reason unknown to God or man, Kate is there despite not being involved in Buckells' case since she works for MIT, not AC-12. Frankly, not gonna delve into it. Kate is wearing a sweater we've yet to see her in, a blue crew neck that is frankly more feminine than anything we've seen this series so far, and moreso matches what she's worn in previous series. It’s unsettling. Steve is in his classic AC-12 uniform.

Just a quick q for the kids at home - if Buckells only ever communicated with people via a secure browser on burner devices, how in the hell did he get a laptop in prison? Also, why did he not break himself out of prison by having someone else plant evidence of some kind, especially since he supposedly had a lot to blackmail Jo with?

At what I can only assume is their local, Steve and Kate congratulate themselves on doing nothing beyond sit in interview rooms to catch Buckells. Kate might go back to AC-12 - even though she left because of the gaffer's actions which turned out to be WAY WORSE THAN SHE PREVIOUSLY BELIEVED? Sure, Jed. They have a chat about what's been happening with Steve and his painkiller addiction. Kate implies he should drive up to Liverpool to see Steph, which he doesn't think is a good idea. But don't worry, they've got each other, mate. Platonic soulmates forever (no romantic underscoring in this analysis).

And then, with no previous discussion in the script or even telegraphing by the camera, Kate is in therapy. Which is great, because she truly needs it, girl has been through a lot. She mentions her ex, and Josh who is apparently her reason for living but she's texted about him once and mentioned him offhand to Jo to tell her he'd be with her ex, and then her great friend and partner, Steve (which is true, but the romantic framing is gross and out of character).

Not being funny, Kate is wearing a truly horrendous mauve top here, over a white shirt. We've never seen her in a color like this, it doesn't fit in with the rest of the color palette in her wardrobe, up to and including all of the orange and brown she wore at MIT. It's honestly frumpy, and in no way aligns with the characterization shown to us through her wardrobe in the rest of the series. The last time we do see her in an outfit like that is during the interview with Jo. Jo left and took Kate's excellent sense of style with her.

Kate and Steve meet with Patty to discuss Darren Hunter's involvement in the murder of Lawrence Christopher, and discuss how there's more corrupt officers to be uncovered. Patty C isn't gonna do anything about that tho. Hastings strolls up to chat with Patty C, and we learn that Buckells will get immunity. The trio are about to leave when Ted storms back into her office to confess to his actions leading to John Corbett's death. He gets one more speech about carrying the fire and bad apples in policing before they all leave.

For the final outfits we may ever see them in, Hastings is wearing a blue shirt, Steve is wearing a grey suit, white shirt, and green tie, and Kate is in a white turtleneck with a navy pea coat. Again, this turtleneck is more effeminate than anything we’ve seen her in this series. Hell, even Patty C is wearing blue to show she’s aligned with anti-corruption and just kind of a bitch, not actually corrupt.

Finally, to the blessed epilogue. Shoutout to Terry and Farida for getting some closure to the bullshit they’ve been through.

Jo steps out of her little stone cottage in the country, dressed in a casual sweater of grey and blue, breathing in the fall air deeply. Her layers of clothing are gone, her hair is down and soft. Her Icelandic sweater shows that she’s finally free to honor her heart, and no longer feels trapped by her family and who she thought they were.

And then, a dog trots out after her, and we see Jo bend down to hug the retriever and kiss its head. This is the most free affection we have ever seen Jo give. A set of legs appear in the doorway behind her, and a redheaded woman steps out of the cottage to meet Jo and the dog. Jo smiles at her, oh so freely after the tension she carried for 21 years, and they clasp hands, walking down the country road away from their home. Because Jo is free, and she can freely love and live without fear in her new life.

Now, from a purely logistical standpoint, very little affection between anyone could be shown from episodes 3-7 because of COVID filming protocols (which seem to be far more strict on physical distancing than American and Canadian productions). The production team actually did a brilliant job using forced perspective and interesting over the shoulders to make people seem like they were closer together than they were. From a film nerd perspective though, they broke the 180 rule so frequently that I nearly lost my mind (glass boxes are great but they ignore all rules of perspective).

All that aside, the logistics of filming in COVID mean that moments where we do see physical distancing broken are all the more important. Kelly filmed this scene with an actress who she has not been working with for months, because it is so, so important to see Jo come out of the other side of her tragic life intact. It also matters that her partner is wearing a warm hat and has red hair (intentional casting or otherwise) and that their home has a red door, because it shows that those warm tones represent something different for Jo now. They don’t represent fear and betrayal and being trapped - now they represent home.

Additionally, there are a lot of comparisons made between Jo, Dot, and Ryan. All three had been groomed by Tommy Hunter since childhood to work for the OCG, all three were put into the Central Police to act as inside men, and all three committed terrible acts in their own interest. But there are differences here. Ryan was a little shit as a kid and he clearly had a terrible home life - his mom was the worst. He gravitated to an authority figure who offered him something different and who gave him power. He is a victim of circumstance - but he also found power and enjoyment in his terrible actions. He gloated about Maneet Bindra and John Corbett’s deaths, and he enjoyed wielding power over Jo when he was threatening her.

Dot is the blend between Ryan and Jo - he too was groomed by Tommy to enter this world of crime, and did many awful things without regret, including killing people who threatened to expose his identity as the Caddy. It’s not until his friendship, and burgeoning relationship, that his behavior changes. He almost gets away from the Central Police, despite Kate hopping on a lorry for a free ride to track him down, but when faced with the reality that this would mean Kate’s death, he sacrifices himself and gives her a final clue to dismantle the OCG within the police.

Jo, from what we’re shown, felt regret after everything she did, and the show made it a point to demonstrate Jo as a victim of her family and genuine fear for her life if she didn’t continue following the actions of the OCG. We never saw Ryan or Dot with a gun to their head or with a dozen locks on their door. We never saw them break down in bathroom stalls, or even framing people and discrediting them instead of killing them. And it’s ultimately her relationship with Kate that changes things for her - she tries to use Kate at first to get caught, and when they get close she tries to push Kate away in order to protect her, right until she thinks she has no other choice but to let Ryan kill her.

It’s interesting that all three characters meet their end with Kate (and a damn shame the show never chose to address that fully). She quite literally kills Ryan, has a standoff with Dot that ends with him sacrificing himself for her and giving a dying declaration, and goes on the run with Jo to give her time to prove she isn’t bent and who plants evidence against herself to protect Kate. Later, it’s Kate who convinces Jo to give up everything she knows about the OCG and the man who claimed to be her father, and Kate who offers immunity and witness protection. Finally, in their last scene together, Kate manages to save one of the people corrupted under the thumb of the OCG. She completes a task she first set out for in series 1, the first time she interviewed Ryan and tried to get him to realize there’s a better life out there for him.

Kate does what Jo was hoping she would: she saves her, and gives her the life she never thought she could have.

I wish I could end this with a perfect bow that ties the wardrobe threads of this series together, but frankly I can’t. On a macro level, cool tones remains the symbol of anti-corruption and the pursuit of truth and justice, and warm tones represent any force opposing those ideals. On a micro level, Steve’s clothing choices and what they represent remain consistent throughout the series, as do Jo’s. However, the character that ties Steve and Jo together, the person who believed in the truth of Jo despite what face value was saying, that person’s wardrobe gets thrown to hell in the final episode. Kate’s colors remain cool, and it’s understandable that the warm tones that represented her connection to Jo disappear as Jo turns on the OCG, but the actual physical clothing is completely different from what she’s been wearing before and doesn’t fit her characterization.

I think it’s crucial to note that her femininity is only played up when she’s back on a team with men, where her earlier androgynous dress became suddenly unacceptable. It’s a damn shame, because the emotional payoff for Kate’s growth outside of AC-12 could’ve been really spectacular, and she was stymied in the end in favor of her male colleagues.

#line of duty #kate fleming #jo davidson #steve arnott #flemson #kate x jo #lod spoilers #line of duty spoilers #It took me a long time to finish this because I struggled with the absolute 180 degree turn the show took tonally in the final episode #It honestly threw off quite a few of my conclusions #and I had to rethink the analysis #but thank you to everyone who stuck with me #enjoy!

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elsannabackwardsposts · 3 years

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Bonus Feature (apology for the chapter delay)

I think this was a requested Bonus prompt from a long while back. Posting as a little apology for the delay in getting out Chapter 40 Part 1. :)

Flynn POV; Mid-Chapter 12 time frame

“Hey, Elsa,” waved the boy from across the lobby of the campus’ business building. The blonde woman turned her attention from her notebook, curiously looking up from where she sat on the cushioned bench. With a smile, the brunet plopped down beside her, backpack falling at his side. “Got a minute?”

Raising a brow, Elsa nodded, making one more pencil mark in her notebook, filled to the brim with print outs of what looked like a class’ power-point slides. Once the book was closed, resting on her lap, pencil fit through its coiled binding for safe keeping, she turned her head to face her underclassmen.

Taking the acknowledgment as her means for him to continue, he sighed. “I need some ‘dating’ advice..” He had caught the widening of blue eyes, and although already knowing the real reason behind why the older rower held such a surprised reaction, he played it off innocently. Running a hand through his loose bangs, he sighed, shrugging his arm. “I know. Me, of all people. Crazy.”

When he glanced toward the Senior again, he noticed that she’d schooled her look back to that of a more controlled expression; one which matched her soft voice. “I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be on this..”

He waved his hand. “Don’t sweat it. I just don’t really know how to approach this one girl. None of my usual ideas are working..” He let his gaze fall, hand absently raising to scratch the nape of his neck. “She’s on the team, which may be why it’s harder. I’ve never, ya know, dated on the team before.” Flynn knew it wasn’t the greatest way to pose this question, but really, he didn’t know what else to do.

“You know how I feel about dating teammates, Flynn..” Elsa said quietly, having turned her eyes away solemnly, a bit of warning in how she spoke his name.

“Yeah, I know..” he said apologetically with a sigh, lulling his head for an instant before locking his honey-hued gaze on her. “But you’re also filled with wisdom that I don’t have,” he said, trying to give a cheeky face, although feeling the sincerity slip a little too much into his words. It did seem to give the blonde a pause before looking back at him with a bit of amusement. “Seriously though, if you were to ever go about dating again, team or not, and, hey, look. I get it, you totally won’t, but just hear me out.” The smolder was locked and loaded in his wide, pleading eyes.

The older of the two made a face, finally rolling her eyes in an exasperated manner, motioning her hand with a twirl, letting the man continue. He smiled.

“Alright, so. If you were to ask them out.. what would you suggest? Or even say?”

There was a long silence and the blonde averted her eyes. The way her expression morphed into a pensive gaze gave away the fact that she was just taking her time to really think about the question. So Flynn casually pulled his leg up to his lap, relaxing back into the seat, prepared to wait patiently for his quiet friend’s response.

“I’d make sure to remind her of the importance of putting crew and studies before a relationship.” The young captain groaned, lifting his eyes dryly to the ceiling with a long blink. Elsa frowned at his reaction. “What? It is very important to get that out of the way in the beginning,” she stated firmly.

Hanging his head, Flynn nodded, voice defeated, but tinged with a delicate sadness more than anything. “Yeah, I know..” Seriously. What else did he really expect from the lone woman? After all she had been through, of course she would opt to make sure every one else was warry, not wanting to see anyone else get all caught up in feelings only for it to all end painfully. But he could appreciate it fully all the same, because no doubt Elsa would not offer this advice, one learned so deeply due to cuts in her own heart, up to many others, if any others, but him.

Tucking a strand of flaxen hair behind her ear, Elsa softened her look. A few thoughtful seconds later, she gently added, “Just.. keep showing her that you care; that you respect her. Be yourself. Honesty is what means the most to everyone.”

Turning, seeing the gentle look cross his childhood friend’s face, the boy felt himself inhale, just in the slightest, just because of seeing the glimpse of ease emanating behind sapphire eyes for the first time in a long time. Unable to handle the elated emotion of seeing the Senior finally melt, even if in the slightest, in a highly delicate moment which could be easily ruined if he harped on her heart’s submission, or made mention of it at all, he instead played it off in the best Flynn way possible. He made an ugly face.

“Ugh, that’s it?” He closed his eyes, tilting his nose up. “No offense, but that really is girly advice.”

“Full offense,” Elsa genuinely laughed, hand shoving the boy’s shoulder lightly as he grinned back. “If you didn’t want a woman’s input, why did you not ask your guy friends?”

Flynn rubbed the light scruff of his beard. “I don’t talk about this ‘touchy-feely’ stuff with most people. And Hans is never around anymore since he’s so busy with Anna. I really didn’t have anyone else.” His honey colored eyes fell to the side, noticing how Elsa had looked down to her hands again. He blanched, realizing his words. Shit. “Ah..! I know you two don’t get along, sorry for bringing him up.”

But the girl shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” Her blonde brows furrowed in a strange way, as if there was a hint of confusion and some sort of disdain intermingling in her emotion. “Honestly, sometimes I forget that they’re together, so thanks for reminding me.”

Something about the way she said that made Flynn pause. He honestly couldn’t really comment much, as the young couple always seemed to hang out outside of crew practice; only a handful of sparse remote moments could be recalled of the two giving off romantic vibes at the boathouse or after a race. Maybe Anna wasn’t the type to talk about her relationships very much with her teammates, airing away from typical PDA-type antics. Or maybe the Freshman was discreet enough and careful of Elsa’s feelings to not bring up the boy in conversation (as Flynn had just absentmindedly done here), effectively keep Hans out of Elsa’s mind.

He hoped it was the latter. From what he had begun to observe, the rowing pair had seemed to have a good mesh, even noticing a bit of brightness returning to his best female friend as the fall season began to roll into early winter. If Anna was that considerate of Elsa’s feelings, she was definitely a good person who’d treat her friendship with Elsa well, prioritizing the gentle soul over the novelty of a boyfriend.

His eyes scanned the Senior once more, noticing something else in her eyes; a distance usually reserved for her pensive thoughts. A place she’d fallen in and out of periodically as her years at university rolled on, usually when reflecting on her race performances and, if ever another person, it would be her Ex.. But this expression was never offered regarding the auburn haired Junior boy. So, given the conversation, did that mean it was the talk of Anna who had triggered the look this time?

Blinking, Flynn held his breath instantly as the connection was made, looking at the stoic woman with a new eye. Her expression paired with her previous reaction at the couple’s mention. His brain was suddenly pulling up images from before; her reaction Halloween night, the way every time he recently messaged her she happened to be studying or exercising with Anna. Nowadays, everything that he knew of Elsa revolved around Anna. When had that happened?

Could it be that she..?

Does Elsa actually have feelings for..?

Blue eyes were suddenly on him, narrowed. “What are you looking at?” asked the woman tersely, a frown on her lips, making Flynn startle.

“Ah, sorry, thinking of, um, you know, how I can go about wooing my lady.” He grinned sheepishly.

Sitting forward, he watched as Elsa slipped her notebook into her backpack and sat up straight, sliding her satchel strap over her shoulder. For a moment, the Junior Captain thought the woman was about to stand and take her leave, but instead, she stayed still, a pale hand lingering on the strap.

“Hey, um..” Flynn was looking directly at the porcelain face which was turned downward, gaze locked on the brilliant tile floor. “What about studying together and hanging out afterwards at your place?”

The boy blinked and tilted his head. “Huh?”

Elsa made a small grimace barely visible in her side profile. “A suggestion for you and her.. to get closer.”

The Starboard rower brought his palm beneath his chin as he leaned forward, eyes still watching the Senior. “Huh. Well, we don’t have any classes together, but maybe that’d work.” He looked to the high vaulted ceilings and the gorgeous chandelier overhead and smiled. “Yeah. Study date and a movie. Sounds like a plan!”

This time, the blonde looked at him. “Why a movie in particular?”

He laughed good-naturedly. “It’s the perfect ‘hang out’ excuse to blur the lines of a friendly date. Even if nothing happens, or if conversation lulls, you can at least extend your time with the other person and quietly enjoy it that way.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be a Netflix and chill deal.”

The Senior slowly nodded in understanding at his response, if not also scrunching her nose in confusion at the final weird phrasing he had chosen, before finally standing and bidding a farewell. Flynn reciprocated in kind and watched his blonde friend head off toward the glass-walled entrance of the building.

He leaned back, arms crossing against his chest with a smirk.

Despite his excellent acting skills revealing the total opposite, Flynn himself did not miss the subtle implications hanging in the blonde’s suggestion, nor how there was an honest curiosity in hearing his interpretation of why a movie could be a nice transitional date option. He really hoped he had worded the idea optimally enough. And although he certainly was down to implement it in his own endeavors, with what he had assumingly discovered regarding the elusive woman’s heart, he hoped he would not be the only one picking out a movie this week..

#Bonus Feature #elsanna backwards

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 71 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Fun fact: this rewrite is now the second-longest fic in the Drace Race RPF section of AO3. (Second only to the original story, lol.) So if you’re looking for a lot of content…we’ve got you. ;) Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Violet revealed her estranged relationship with her family to Sutan, and Courtney struggled to live up to Miss Fame’s demands.

This Chapter: Some uncharacteristic vulnerability from Violet, Met Gala meetings and morning television.

***

“Do you want more marshmallows?”

“I always want more marshmallows.”

Katya grinned as she got up from the kitchen table, grabbing Trixie’s mug to top them both up. They were decorating gingerbread men, Katya pulling them from the oven last night. Trixie was doing clothes, drawing in the lines and putting details on them, one of his favorite jobs.

It was a tradition of theirs, spending the Sunday before Christmas in their pajamas, preparing cookies and watching Home Alone, the leftover icing always ending up in the bedroom for some sticky afternoon fun.

***

“Aaaand release...”

“Oh god,” Sutan groaned, rolling onto his back and spreading out like a starfish. “I’m dead.”

When he had jokingly asked if he could join Violet for her yoga session, he hadn’t figured she’d say yes, and he definitely hadn’t expected that it’d be this hard, those last few breaths of extended child’s pose essentially torture where he could feel his bones bend and creak.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Violet grinned, his girlfriend sitting back on her knee, the leg with her cast spread out to the side. “We only did 40 minutes.”

“You’re not even sweating.” Sutan looked at her, Violet’s hair in a high ponytail, the Sunday look of one of his shirts and a sports bra quickly becoming a fave.

“Some of us remember to do more than weights and cardio, Mr. Amrull.”

“I’m texting my trainer right now,” Sutan reached over his head, grabbing his phone that he had left on the floor next to their mats, Violet giggling as she laid down next to him, putting her head on his shoulder.

“There,” Sutan pressed send, his trainer probably falling off of his chair when he read the message, Sutan always attempting to get away with the bare minimum when it came to exercise, but he refused to be humiliated by being unable to reach his toes.

He was just about to put his phone down, when Violet reached up and tapped the screen, his front camera opening up, both of them in frame as they were lying on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture?” Violet smiled, her sarcastic tone never wavering. “To document the moment.”

Sutan looked at the screen. It was so incredibly tempting to say yes, to keep this moment in the private password protected collection that had steadily grown since Thanksgiving, Violet really and truly trying to let him take pictures, but he couldn’t say yes, not when he knew why she was so confident.

“And can I post it?”

“Post it?” Violet raised an eyebrow, sitting up on her elbows. “Why? Isn’t your hair...?”

“A mess?” Sutan didn’t want to smile, but it was impossible not to, Violet knowing him way too well if she had already figured out that he was sometimes embarrassingly vain about his hairstyle, the mess on his head looking like he had been fucking for an hour. “Yes, but I still want to post it.”

“I-” Violet had pulled away completely now, not a single trace of the sweetness left. “No.”

“Violet,” Sutan sat up as well, putting his phone down, “I know you hate social media, but you’re my girlfriend, and I don’t think what I ask for is unreasonable-”

“Sutan. Please” Violet grabbed her mat and rolled it together in an attempt to avoid him. “I said no.”

“And I’m pushing because I don’t understand.” Sutan could feel the annoyance build, the hurt and the rejection. It stung every single time Violet denied him, hurt every time she neglected what they had.

“I’m not saying we have to announce it with a workout selfie,” Sutan hated that they were fighting, but he couldn’t help himself, “but I want to tell the world that we’re together.”

“And I don’t-” Violet looked at him, her brown eyes filled with hurt. “If the world knows, they know, and I don’t want them to know where I am or what I’m doing.”

There it was. The they, the them, the family from Atlanta that was haunting his girlfriend's life like a shadow that had slowly started to creep into his too.

“Violet, I hate to be the one to tell you,” Sutan didn’t touch her, simply putting his hand down on the floor next to hers, telling her that he was there. “But the internet exists. If they have your name, they can find you, no matter what you do to hide.”

“Have you taken a moment to consider that they might not have that?”

Sutan paused, Violet’s words like a bomb.

“... What?”

Did her family not have her name? It was true that Violet Chachki barely got any hits on google, that it was Parson’s assignments and internships that popped up, the Galactica employee directory right at the top, but Sutan had never considered that possibility, had never even toyed with it.

“This wasn’t how I planned on telling you. Actually, I probably wasn’t counting on telling you at all, but I’m not…” Violet was fiddling with the tiniest hole in her yoga mat, her fingers tugging on the foam. “I wasn’t born Violet. Wasn’t even born a Chachki. Hasn’t it ever seemed weird to you that my last name literally means trinket?”

“It does?”

“Mmh,” Violet smiled, the same heavy sadness he had seen in the hospital in her eyes. “I needed to not be… Blair anymore.”

“Blair?”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “Blair Dardo. It was my birth name. I never liked it, and I changed it the moment I turned 18, left it behind the second I could. That’s why I can’t,” Violet gestured vaguely to Sutan’s phone. “Changing it meant that they can’t, that they can’t find me, and I-”

Sutan didn’t know what to say, but it felt like he had just been given another puzzle piece in the mystery that was his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.”

Violet’s head snapped to attention, her eyes widening in confusion. “...What?”

“I’m sorry.” Sutan said it again, making sure he put his genuine emotion behind the words. “I should have realized that you weren’t saying no to be difficult, and yet I kept pushing.”

“Sutan-” Violet still looked confused and a little suspicious, like she didn’t really understand what he was doing. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I do.” Sutan smiled. “I get it now, and I’m sorry, but next time you have a deep dark secret, maybe you could just tell me instead of this charade-”

Sutan was cut off as Violet threw herself in his arms, knocking him down on the floor and kissing him like her life depended on it, gratitude rolling off of her in waves.

***

“Raja?”

Alyssa held out the plate of croissants, Raja waving it away since she didn’t want one. The entire senior management team was gathered in the conference room, Fame for some ungodly reason always insisting on a full breakfast spread for their Monday meetings, even though only a fraction of them ever actually ate any of it.

“So,” Fame looked around, a gold fountain pen in her hand, a black moleskin notebook open in front of her. “Any updates?”

The theme of today's meeting was the 2015 Met Gala, Raja barely hiding a groan when Courtney had sent out the meeting agenda.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Met Gala, the first Monday in May a spectacular party, but it was such a hassle getting there, the gala the fashion world's version of the Oscars.

“Yes,” Pearl smiled, turning around in her chair. She was weirdly chipper, her blonde hair collected in a clip, her signature leather jacket exchanged with a cropped black fur. “We have the final confirmation from Jessica Chastain’s team. She’s in.”

“Good,” Fame nodded, making a note in her moleskin, the fact that Fame was actually writing herself more than enough to cement the severity of the situation. Courtney was standing against the wall, Ivy sitting at the table with her computer open, typing away, but when it came to the Met, Fame left nothing up to chance.

“She’s looking forward to working with us, and she says she’s honored-”

“Yada yada yada,” Fame made a hand puppet, and Raja had to hide a smile, Pearl leaning back in her chair with a roll of her eyes, mouthing at everyone else that she’d send a follow up email.

It was Fame who had requested Jessica, in her own roundabout way, her friend casually mentioning to Raja that she had a good smile, which was more than enough for Raja to make Pearl offer her up as Galactica’s celebrity face.

It wasn’t every house who did it, but the big ones always had a celebrity at the gala, wearing their clothes and repping the brand.

“Does anyone know if they’ve moved away from the terrible theme yet?”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Alaska offered up, the promotional material the Met had sent out at the start of the fall in the middle of the table thanks to Ivy’s forthsight. “It’s December, and since we haven’t heard anything, they’re sticking with China's influence on western fashion.”

“Good god, I was really hoping they had come to their senses.” Fame breathed out through her nose, and Raja had to agree with her. Sure, ‘China: Through the Looking Glass’ made sense as an art exhibition, but there was really no way to convert it to fashion without being culturally insensitive at best and offensively appropriative at worst.

Besides, Galactica had never been a brand that sought inspiration from the east in their designs and aesthetics, which made the entire situation quite the predicament.

“I’m sure we can work with it,” Trixie gave a small smile, the stack of papers by his elbow indicating that he had probably already put his senior designers to work coming up with concepts.

“And how,” Fame turned, looking directly at Trixie. “Are we supposed to work with it? Raja’s the only one who could possibly get away with being theme appropriate.”

Usually, Fame and Raja were the ones who walked the carpet together with their celebrity, Fame a nervous wreck for weeks before the gala because of all the strangers, while Raja enjoyed it because of her modeling days, seeing old acquaintances without the stresses of fashion week, a delightful yearly treat.

“I’m Indonesian.” Raja knew Fame didn’t mean anything by it, and she wasn’t that concerned about being politically correct herself, but everyone knew what it could mean for a fashion house to misstep, Dolce and Gabbana somehow walking directly from one scandal and into another one. “Not Chinese.”

“See?” Fame sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s a controversial time bomb. Either, we stay on theme, which I refuse since I look terrible in Chinese red, ”

“So we’re going off theme?” Trixie had picked up his papers, sorting through them, and Raja felt a moment of gratitude for their head of design, Trixie of course coming prepared with off-theme suggestions as well.

“Unless they get a grip and change it? Yes. Yes we are.”

“There!” Everyone held their breath as Maxwell pointed at Violet’s screen, an email from Ivy just ticking in, the Met Gala meeting still in full swing.

“Open it, Chachki!” Blu was practically biting her nails, hopping from one foot to the other, her red hair in a braid over her shoulder.

“Alright, alright-“ Violet clicked on the email, Bob standing right behind her, his eyes flying over the screen before he called out.

“It’s Jessica!”

A collective sigh of relief went through the floor, a loud ‘yes’ coming from Kiara who was clapping her hands together, the group breaking up, chatter filling the air.

“Thank god,” Maxwell groaned, putting a hand on Violet’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I knew having you here would be worth it Chachki.”

“Right.” Violet raised an eyebrow, looking up at him, clearly not understanding why no one had thought to simply ask Ivy for updates before, the suggestion just casually slipping from her during morning coffee, the entire department running with it instantly. “But I still don’t-“

“Get it?” They turned to look over at Jovan who was sitting at his own desk, the man one of the few who hadn’t gathered around Violet’s computer.

“Yes.” Violet nodded. “If you needed information all this time, you could have just asked-”

“Like we could have just asked you?” Bob said, cutting her off and Violet opened her mouth, only to close it again. “Exactly.” Bob grinned. “You would have told us to fuck off.”

“I see your point.” Violet tapped her fingers on her desk, a small smile on her lips since everyone knew she would have said those exact words directly to their faces when she had been in Fame’s front office. “But, why is it such a big deal if a celeb is confirmed or not? The gala isn’t until May, that’s 4 months away and it’s three outfits. A whole collection is usually done in that time.”

“A collection doesn’t have to be approved by the celebrity,” Maxwell counted on his fingers, “the celebrity’s stylist, Vogue and Anna Wintour personally on top of Trixie, Raja and Fame. Alexis usually starts producing concepts in October.”

“As soon as they reveal the theme girl!” Alexis yelled over her shoulder, already pulling her sketches from their shelf, the confirmation meaning that she’d be in a meeting with Trixie for the rest of the day, working out the details of the first round of negotiations with the celebrity.

“Huh…” Violet looked around, the puzzled expression still on her face. “And what about-“

“Fame and Raja?”

Violet nodded.

“You’d think Fame would be the difficult one-“ Maxwell smiled.

“But make something gorgeous and custom in ivory and she’s on board,” Jovan grinned, putting the pen he was using behind his ear as he turned around in his chair. “Every year, she pretends like she’ll follow the theme, and then never does.”

“Exactly.” Maxwell nodded. “Fame is demanding, but consistent. Trixie has an entire drawer of Fame-appropriate outfits that we all contribute to whenever we have an idea.”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Violet looked mildly impressed, and if any of the rumors Maxwell had heard about how she had managed Fame’s front office, that approach wasn’t too far off from how Violet herself had attempted to tame the beast.

“Rule one of surviving at Galactica: Never disappoint Miss Fame. For once, however, Fame isn’t the problem.” Maxwell sighed, taking a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk. “Raja is.”

“Raja?” Violet looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes really.” Maxwell crossed his arms. “Every year, she tells us that she’s chill, that she’ll wear whatever goes with the spring collection or the theme-“

“And every single year, she changes her mind at least four times.” Bob chimed in, the drama loving smirks on his lip. “More if you’re lucky.”

“Which is why,” Maxwell nudged Bob’s side with his elbow. “We’ve unanimously decided that you have the honor of dressing Raja for this year's Met Gala.”

“Me?” Violet’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” Violet looked at them, confusion painted on her face. “I’m the most junior member of staff.”

“True, but you’re also sucking her brother's dick,” Maxwell grinned, “so we figured she can’t kill you during the process, unlike the rest of us mere mortals.”

***

It should have been one of the most exciting mornings since Courtney started at Galactica--Miss Fame and Raja were being interviewed on a talk show, and so she got to go to the famous 30 Rockefeller Plaza building, and be on the set of a real television show. Unfortunately, it was such a whirlwind of activity and Miss Fame was in such a demanding mood that she didn’t have a second to enjoy it.

She felt like a chicken with its head cut off, running around in a hectic scramble to meet every request. Today was the last day before their holiday break, and even though Courtney knew that spending her break with Bianca would be incredible, she also knew that she had about a billion things to do before that could even start. Today was supposed to be a half day, but with how packed the schedule was, she’d be lucky to leave by 5.

She entered Miss Fame’s green room, silently handing her the coffee she’d asked for and then leaning on the wall to catch her breath. Miss Fame took a sip and then immediately spit the coffee back out.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the cup out like it was a bag of dog shit.

“It’s your usual-”

“This is not my usual. This is weak, and not hot enough, and-did you just roll your eyes?”

“No, Miss!” Courtney insisted, praying that she was telling the truth. She was tired, having arrived at the office at 6 am to drop off her stuff for Bianca’s, and there was a teeny tiny chance that she may have (accidentally) rolled her eyes. “Would you like a new-”

“Let me tell you something, Courtney. This may be the last day before a vacation, but I expect you to be fully present and accounted for. We have too many important things going on and I will not accept anything less than your absolute very best. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Now. Please go find me some decent coffee before I get a migraine.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“And after you come back, I need you to go to the dry cleaners. I’ve decided to wear my ivory Valentino suit to meet the investors later.”

“Yes, Miss, will do.”

“That’s all,” Miss Fame said, waving her hand, and Courtney took off back down the labyrinthine hallways of 30 Rock to hunt down a coffee that would meet her standards.

***

“Good morning! Welcome back to Coast to Coast. I’m Nina West, and today we are positively blessed to have with us the icons of fashion, Miss Fame and Raja Gemini of Galactica, here to talk to us about dressing to impress in the new year, and their exciting new business ventures. Thank you so much for being here, ladies!”

“Thank you, we’re thrilled to be here,” Fame smiled, the lie easily falling out of her red painted lips.

Raja could see the way her hands were clenched in her lap, her wedding ring turned inward and digging into her palm, and knew that she was at her tensest.

Raja had long ago gotten used to giving live interviews. She had a laid-back attitude and while she always wanted to represent the company in the most flattering light, she tended to relax and let the conversation flow naturally.

Fame, however, had never quite gotten the hang of it in the same way. She was just so brand-conscious, almost to a debilitating degree, written interviews so much more her speed.

She always looked impeccable, very much the ice goddess she was so often called, but Fame had never gotten the same confidence in her speaking skills as Raja, who had been dragged through developing them in her modeling career.

Even though Fame hated being on live TV, they occasionally got an offer they couldn’t turn down, and between the makeup line being released in January and the overhaul of their website and online store, they had a lot to plug.

The whole thing was so stressful Fame had asked Raja four times to check her pits for sweat stains, her papers with facts from the makeup department and pointers from Pearl not leaving her hand until they literally had to go on.

Raja leaned forward, giving Fame’s shoulder a reassuring pat, and added, “This is our favorite show, we never miss it!”

“Aww, thank you!” said Nina, grinning. “Now, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you have an exciting announcement.”

“Yes, and we’re so happy to be able to share the news with your viewers first-”

“An exclusive!” Nina exclaimed, eyes comically wide and mouth open as if this was news to her.

“Yes, exactly. Early this year, we released a limited makeup line, and it’s been doing just wonderfully. So in 2015, we’re going to be rolling out a full line of makeup and skincare, with special edition palettes and colors all throughout the spring.”

“All natural, vegan, cruelty free...I always want the very best for my own skin and I wouldn’t offer our customers anything less,” Fame cut in, and Raja felt a surge of pride at how natural she sounded. All their rehearsing had clearly paid off.

“If you use it, I’ll use it!” Nina said with a chuckle. “You both have the most gorgeous skin I’ve ever seen.”

“We expect the first batch to sell out quickly,” Raja said, “So go straight to our website, Galactica dot com, and sign up to be part of the mailing list to receive alerts on all new product launches and where they’ll show up in stores.”

“I’m doing that, the second we go to commercials,” Nina said. “But first, I heard that there’s more news about your spring line...”

***

Patrick reached for the remote, turning off the TV as Nina West rounded out the segment with Fame and Raja.

He was sitting in his office, wrapping up the last details before the firm could close down for the holiday break.

Fame had done a great job, the nerves he knew she had felt not showing on her beautiful face. Patrick picked up his phone, a smile on his lips as he started to type out a text.

Fame would probably not read it until she left work for the day, but he was proud of her, and he hoped that she was proud of herself too.

***

Fame collapsed onto her dressing room sofa, completely emotionally drained, the crystals she had stuffed in her bra digging against her skin.

Being on camera for live television always took up every drop of energy, and left her with nothing to spare. Unfortunately, she knew that she didn’t have much time to rest, since she was due at the Russian Tea Room to meet her potential investors in less than an hour. The makeup artist they’d hired was standing by for touch-ups, and her ivory Valentino suit hung in its dry cleaning bag on the clothing rack. But first, she knew that her blood sugar was dangerously low, so she needed…

She looked around. Where on earth was Courtney? Fame had never met someone with such a tendency to be underfoot at the worst times and completely MIA when her presence was required. She walked to the doorway, spotting Courtney having a casual chat with a girl in a headset, carefree as anything.

“Courtney!” she snapped, and Courtney looked up, surprised, even though she was literally here for the sole purpose of taking care of Fame’s needs. “Come!”

Fame turned and walked back into her dressing room, irritated, the rapid click of Courtney’s heels as she ran over grating on her nerves.

“Yes, Miss?”

“I need to eat.”

“Oh…” Courtney’s gaze shifted to the table, where a fruit basket sat amongst assorted pastries and other snack food.

“Not that sugary garbage,” Fame explained. “Violet always had- Don’t you have any protein bars?”

“Oh, of course!” Courtney exclaimed, rummaging through her purse.

Fame rolled her eyes, sighing. That girl truly was useless. What Bianca saw in her, Fame would never understand. She took one of the protein bars that Courtney had carefully lined up on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“I think you’d better head back to the office and prepare the conference room for the investor presentation.”

“Oh, but did you need anything el-”

“No, I’m much more concerned with the meeting,” Fame said. “Everything needs to be perfect. These people will be paying attention to every little detail.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, and take this back with you…” Fame handed over a large manila envelope. “It’s some sketches I’ve been working on.”

“Sure.” Courtney began to put the envelope into her bag, and Fame’s eyes widened with alarm.

“Don’t bend them! For god’s sake…”

“Sorry Miss,” Courtney said, biting her lip, holding the envelope at her side. “Is there anything else you need before I-”

“No. That’s all.”

***

Courtney sat in the back of a cab, eyes squeezed tightly shut, using the time in traffic to center herself and go over her massive to do list. She had to make sure that all the presentations for the meeting were set up, work with IT to test it, messenger out the holiday gifts that Miss Fame added at the last minute, make sure the schedule for January was in order, set up her out of office reply…

Plus, the meeting with the investors wouldn’t begin until they were back from the restaurant, so the “half day” was looking more and more like a full day. At this point, settling in at Bianca’s felt like it was a million years away--and traffic crawling at a standstill didn’t help anything.

She pulled out her phone. Maybe she could set up some of the gift deliveries now, while she was stuck in the cab.

When they were finally in sight of the Galactica building, her phone started buzzing. She looked at the screen. Miss Fame. That couldn’t be anything good.

Courtney took a deep breath and answered, stomach tightening.

“Hello?”

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

9 notes · View notes

btswishes · 3 years

Text

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 6)

Previous / Next (7)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Is it juicy yet?👀 I have added a song to listen to at a particular part - gives the story a better feeling. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Tag list: @vicmc624 @yasminwashere

Word count: 3,719

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name

Y/L/N- Your Last Name

Vocabulary 40s:

cookie - a girl who is cute

decked out - dressed up in an attractive way

eager beaver - an enthusiastic helper; a person who is excited about something

dame - a woman

doll dizzy - a boy who is crazy about girls

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

The drive to your destination was filled with fear, worry - the very anxiety seeping through your skin into your muscles, blood leading it to each apex of your body, feeding your mind numerous endings. You were no Dr. Strange, but at this very moment the only sensation was the contrast of burning unavoidable expectation and cool alluring cold coming from Bucky’s vibranium arm.

Pulled abruptly out of yourself, Steve stepped on the breaks and pushed the car door open. Your head flung to him pulling the bags out of the backseat and unzipping them. Bucky followed his old friend, letting your figure finally stand on its own, free of the safety of his embrace. Taking a couple of breaths in, you felt your chest expand and collapse again under the atmospheric pressure.

“ Y/N.”Steve called out to you, waving his hand to pull your attention towards himself. Autopilot moved you around the metal of the vehicle right next to both men. Bucky was tightening his holsters to make sure it was all snug and tight, biting into his chest muscles. Steve leaned his shield against the car, throwing you a bag. The suit inside caught your eye, bottles of vibranium dust resting atop. With trembling fingers, you pulled he material out letting the soft yet sturdy sensation run up your nerves.

A metal clank contracted your neck muscles – Bucky’s hand flung the trunk door open.

“You can get dressed here.” His big figure turned around, casting a shade over you “I won’t look, promise.” In a weird way, his first reaction was to cover you as much as possible, doing a mind check over his arsenal.

“Are you going to be the wall this time?” as clouded with fear as you were, a small tease escaped your dressing figure – fabric sliding over your thighs and up your chest. Bucky threw his head forward coaxed by a laugh.

“Sure, you can say so. Since the last one couldn’t hide that cute mole you have right on your side.”

“YOU DID PEEP!”Your throat let out a screech resembling that of a bird of prey, caused by the realization. His body swiftly rotated towards you, flesh hand cupping your mouth shut.

“Shhh. We don’t want to get caught doll.” Bucky’s gaze checked the perimeter before sliding towards you and down to your chest, where the metal zipper laid comfortably between your breasts.

“Maybe don’t boil the water if you don’t want the kettle to whistle.” Steve tapped his shield, sending his friend a stern look. He knew exactly what was happening and tried to make it easy on your poor maiden soul as much as he could.

“You telling me ya wouldn’t tease this cookie?” James threw the words with a whip of his head over to Steve’s back. “I gotta thank Stark for decking her out like this.”

“Calm down eager beaver.” Bucky smirked at Steve’s words, as his ocean eyes pulled you in to his magical land, losing connection with the world around just to sink deeper “You were always popular with the dames Buck, never thought I would see the day when you would become doll dizzy.”

“Only for this one.” His fingers crawled up your front alluringly, taking his time remembering each curve and dip he could find, before squeezing the zipper and covering your exposed skin from the world and unwanted eyes.

“Hey!” finally being able to escape his lulling gaze, you slapped his hand away, throwing the bag in the trunk and aggressively closing it shut, shaking the car up in the action.

“Feisty lil’ one.”

“Oh shut up.”

The conversation came like thunder on a sunny day, but you couldn’t deny it sucked out some of your stress right out of the skin on skin contact with the tank of a man, now walking behind you. Movie worthy, that was the new feeling bubbling in your guts as you walked tall next to Cap with his gear. The iced dust under your shoes crackled marking each step away from the getaway car. The glass bottles dangling around your waist acted like a safe space for you, knowing that you weren’t empty handed.

“Will someone brief me a bit?” the corner of your eye caught Steve smile at your question, his chest swelling up with a bit of fatherly pride

“Already sounding like an Avenger aren’t we Miss Y/N” pulling out the intercoms they bounced off his meaty palm into your hands and between Bucky’s fingers. You fumbled with it for a moment before finding a comfortable seat for them in your left ear.

“Test test?” Steve’s finger pressed on the blue plastic, hitting you with his voice almost directly in your brain “HYDRA became very active the past few weeks. They have been snooping into old human experiments from the 40s.”

“The 40s?” you had to fight your rush of shock from directing it to the sole survivor of that plan walking behind you, casting a protective shadow over your path

“Weird, we know. Our job is to get info, bust down anything that seems dangerous and leave with as little causalities as possible.”

“To us. You can fuck up anyone else in there.” Bucky added combative energy faintly tracked in his notes

“What is my job?”

“The three of us have to get to the center of that building.” The shield rose in the direction of an old almost abandoned for millennia looking construction. Snow piled on top almost camouflaging it from the rest of the universe. The back door had no one guarding it making the eerie feeling sprout roots inside your heart. Steve placed his ear on the door, letting his super soldier hearing take in as many sounds as possible, letting him deduce that the coast was clear for now. Upon pushing the handle down the men realized that the material was almost impenetrable – not even Bucky could take it down.

“What now? We can’t waltz in from the front like ‘hi we are the avengers’.” He mocked the whole plan, throwing his arms in the air, letting them fall back down with the same energy “ We were lucky enough this side didn’t have anyone guarding it. I don’t think we will have a second go at this with the same success.” he seemed weirdly on edge for a professional with years of experience

“May I?” head ducked down, your eyes moved from one super soldier to the other. They made way, anything would be better than actually going in from another place. Elbows bend back, the nails on your thumbs swiftly unplugged the bottles dangling at your sides. The gentle movements mirroring a ballerina pulled the dust out, mobilizing the small particles for action. They easily penetrated the hinges before busting them open with the spread of your fingers. The light thud the door let out falling onto Steve’s chest with a slight bounce ,signaled the granted entrance.

“Gentlemen first.” A mischievous smile tugged onto your skin, waving your hand for them to walk past you. Pride swirled around, having done something helpful to the mission before it even started - technically.

Turning to the side the men stepped inside the dimly lit corridor. Flickering lights would reflect over Cap’s shield and Bucky’s arm, both of them ready for a fight at each corner they turned. Being in front of you like a barricade against danger, you decided for now to call back the vibranium forming the good old gauntlets – formidable punch, guaranteed to make anyone’s dentist’s pockets happy. The forked path froze Steve, now having him think of any good decisions for a continuation.

“ I go left you take Y/N and go right.” Steve sighed out, tense and wary of each quiet moment passed

“You sure about this?” Bucky unsheathed a knife and swung it over at his friend, making his eyes lay on the shiny sharp edge

“Keep it pal.” One big hand pushed away another “I got my trusty partner over here.” palm tapping the curve of the shield

“Um guys, how about we all go left?”

“Nah doll, let’s go with Stevie’s plan.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I think that the path with shiny blue light and talking men sounds like our destination. 3 against all of them is better than 1 man and his circular sonoluminescent slab of metal.”

“My what?” Steve’s lids squinted, the gears in his head turning slowly to understand your science language.

“Ummm~...Thor hit, shield vibrate and make lighttt~?” the awkward smile plastered all over your face was more than enough to discourage the man from any further education in this era

“Wait wait.” Bucky shook his arm in front of you two, cutting his best friend some slack “How did you hear them? This- this isn’t a frequency you should even be able to catch.”

“But…it is pretty loud and clear. They are even talking about some portal.”

“ Y/N this isn’t something you just hear, come to think of it you excel in your traini-“

“Buck drop it. We can talk when we are back in car, what matters is that we are onto something here and I don’t like how it is looking.”

“I mean I don’t know if this will help ,but I hear 5 more people coming our way from the other direction.” there was no need to point it out seeing as how your team mates were already standing in their signature fight poses. Bucky’s left hand grabbed at you, fingers pushing deep enough to bruise, as he anchored you behind his large frame.

“HEY!” approaching enemies located you pretty easy. All of them armed to the teeth with too many heavy weaponry for some odd reason. Steve covered you two from the first gun shots letting the bullets flatten into caps against his shield. The whole situation caught you off guard almost forgetting all the battle training with Natasha. Who were you kidding, she would go easy on you, these men were out to kill and you were a pretty good target for them.

It was an art form, the way these heavy men were moving between bodies and taking them down like flies. Mistake number 2 - you were too focused on them.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s hair slapped his opposite cheek as his eyes widened filling with fear enough to pollute that deep blue. His knife flew inches from your skin taking with it some of your hair clean off. A yelp left your throat the moment the sharp edge dug into the lung of a random unfortunate guy trying his luck with you. Steve quickly counted the bodies noticing one empty blood patch on the floor. Bucky indulged into relief seconds too soon, letting your safe and healthy figure reflect onto his cornea.

“Bucky!” oh how ironic it was, yelling each other’s names. Danger loved to watch people dance but in a pair. Your fingers reached out to him even though you knew how far you were from him, the man dashing with anger and a last dying wish to take one of you with him down to hell. The corridor began almost elongating in front of you playing a sadistic illusion. Shouting out ‘James’ was the drop needed to overflow your unconscious lake, hands engulfing the atmosphere in an unknown move before making contact with him. Your arms pulled him in like a protective mother as the warmth of a liquid spilled all over your face.

“Y/N, Buck!” Steve dashed over, making sure the last of the scumbags was actually on his way to be judged upon hell’s gates. The vibranium formed into the elegant shape of a knife dripped with the piping life you just took.

“Y/N!” Bucky shook you a couple of times. He scanned your face, palms wiping away as much of the blood as he could, making sure to keep it away from your mind.

“I-....I just killed someone.” the muddy blob of blood and vibranium in your hand, glistening no more - sinfully tainted.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Bucky kept brushing your hair back, casting a breathy spell of words “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” color leaving your cheeks, mind flooded with thoughts. Your whole body worked in a minimal rhythm as if it was denying it. “Doll...doll?” scared, he was scared of the lack of speech

“No, no.” shacking out of his grip, Steve had to push his hand at your lower back, stopping you from rolling onto the floor and into more now cold and drying blood. They both sat, watching you losing your innocents. It was something disgusting, torturous to anyone, still even to them years later. “You don’t get it.” your calm heart beat filled their ears “I don’t feel...anything.” trying to find hope in their faces led you only to more tangled webs of confusion “I just sliced a man’s head clean off his body. At- at first was...- I thought I was just in shock, but now...nothing. No fear, no regret, no panic is coming to me.” silence oh you beautiful song, come and cover these children and hide away their misery from one another. Stay with them until their distress subsides, until they remember who they are. And so she did, letting only the air escaping between your head and Bucky’s chest make itself known.

Minute after minute yet you didn’t feel any different. Tapping the man’s bicep he released you, letting you take a breath in that wasn’t soaked with his intoxicating scent.

“Sorry. ”he muffled out his voice

“Let’s talk this out later.” another to the list of issues “Let’s wrap this up, I don’t think my 106 year old self can take any more surprises.”

Giving each other a quick nod, both Bucky and Steve were back in stealth positions almost floating over the dirty and crumbly ground. No sound not even a vibration from the air in front of their nostrils. With a quick look at them you adapted fast becoming part of the shadows dancing under the broken lights. The corridor began shrinking, leading you to a hall divided only by 2 doors. Old, chewed up wood being your only blanket away from the eyes of potential predators.

“This better work!” a deep male tone huffed out from the side, mobilizing you 100% back to reality and the mission at hand.

“It has to work!” a second man joined in, his voice filled with determination “We lost the soldiers because of shitty planning.” Bucky’s skin crawled, his nerves sending impulses from deep in his memory.

“Calm down, if my calculations are correct we can get them back fresh from the factory.” The laugh was laced with potent evil, as they spoke of human beings as frozen meat from a butcher shop

“Shut up and turn it on!” an almost painfully familiar echo interjected the conversation “ Find the exact moment and grab them.”

Keycap tapping and machine sounds began spreading around the hall, seeping through the cracks in the door where you 3 were positioned. Steve threw a look at Bucky and you, almost asking how many people you thought were in there. The nail on your middle left finger rose up and made 3 long followed by two short taps atop the hard surface – Morse code for 8. The contorting looks they threw made you point at the small crack next to you. The vibranium dust formed a flat reflective surface letting you spy inside, without having to expose any of your body parts.

“Oh God, it’s working!” the strong flash bounced off the mirror scorching your pupils almost right off. Bucky winced followed by a hiss from you.

“How far are we back?”

“I don’t know, I can’t configurator this yet. Wait.”

“What? What?”

“Someone is coming! I can’t shut this off!”

“Don’t! Kill whoever it is! We need to succeed this or our heads will be rolling!” the man yelled out, from the condition of his voice you could tell he was flaring his arms from side to side.

“Who are you!” the clicking of a gun paired with a sweet female voice took over the room, sending Steve a signal to jump in. Everything was going downhill for the HYDRA agents, it was now or never. With the number 8 in mind Bucky bend his leg into his knee, exerting sheer inhuman strength, sending the two doors flying inside announcing the arrival of the Avengers. Your fingers weaved the dust off your soft skin and into 10 sharp spears above your head, gently forming a halo behind your back.

“Fuck!” the men cussed out trying to stay away from the door, enjoying its first flight after years of pension “Great, Captain America !” dressed like a scientist, the man closed his laptop, putting it away safely under his armpit. The light coming from the wall began to vanish slowly but surely

“YOU IDIOT!” yelled out his partner

Out of pure muscle memory you tried to pull the tech out of the sloppy grasp of the enemy, but he saw the cloud coming.

“Fuck this shit!” the unsheathing of a firearm pulled your gaze at the man pointing right at Bucky. His finger slowly pulled back the trigger, spewing out the metal bullet spiraling in the air with speed above that of a human. Bucky’s super soldier abilities pulled his metal arm up, but no clank of materials echoed, the burning capsule sizzling, nestled inside of your grasped fist hovering in front of your partner’s head.

“Go go!” Steve tried to stop them, but the shield got repelled by some type of force field. Bucky was in shock, the warm blood rolling off your skin onto the frozen floor, steam waves leaving as it cooled off.

“They got away!” Steve pushed his finger gently over the intercom sending a message to the rest at the compound “We failed.” His fist hit the wall standing unfortunate next to his strong figure

“Not- “ you hissed, releasing the bullet letting it chime upon contact with the ground “-not necessarily.” Between the metaphorical fingers of the dust cloud you held the very USB that was previously inside the laptop dangling without protection “I think they should be smarter next time, with data I mean.” Your body straightened, Bucky hovering next to you, hands not that far from you just in case. Cap sighed out, his consciousness feeling less aggravated by the failed mission upon you all.

“Not bad for a fist time kid.” He rubbed the top of your head, tugging on a growl from Bucky, low but noticeable upon your contact with his friend.

Song to listen to from here down.

“Steve?” it was the female. Her presence forgotten in the hall, as you 3 relished in the small win. Her heels echoed in rhythm with the Captain’s slowly moving figure. It looked like slow motion as the woman came closer. Her elegant fingers folding the metal of the historical looking gun. Your hands pulled the vibranium in defense, till Bucky’s arm stopped you, his eyes not peeling off of the woman with each of her steps. Her chocolate curls bounced off her shoulders, some draping gently over the collar of the olive colored uniform. Her knees tugged onto the skirt making bigger and much more confidant strides towards the blond man. It felt like a century of them adjusting to each other’s eyelevel.

“Steve…”her voice trembled as her eyes took in the man standing in front of her. His self reflecting into her eyes, soaking deep past them. Half way up his body, Steve grasped her gently with a need. The woman’s hand dropped the gun to the ground thankfully without a shot as her other one slid up his right cheek. Steve’s fingers still holding onto her, intertwined into her grasp, letting his head lean into her gentle touch. His lip quivered slightly. America’s hero, the strong super soldier that gave his life for his country without a second thought, now coming undone in this woman’s presence.

“ Steve…” her voice dripped with a breathy chuckle without a smile. You didn’t need to know them to feel the need and longing spilling out of them. It was just a split second before he let go and warped his arms around her waist pulling her off the ground and flush against his chest, wishing to be as close as possible to her.

“Peggy.” Steve breath out, swallowing in the tears beginning to glaze his eyes, soothing the burning around his nose.

“Peggy?” stagnant notes pushed out from your throat, gaze thrown over Bucky as he nodded back at you. They stayed in each other’s embrace for a few minutes feeling like years to them. You could tell Steve didn’t want to let her down. But past the feelings that bubbled out from the past, he found confusion.

“Peggy why are you here? How are you here?” his hands kept placing strands of hair behind her ear, eyes roaming over her face making sure she was real time and time again.

“I-I don’t know. “ her head looked in the direction of the previously existing light “ I was on a mission when I saw a weird light and voices. I followed and now I am here…with you.” One thing was for sure, she couldn’t go back anymore.

“I am sorry to cut this short, but we have to leave now.” You swung your arm, pulling everyone’s attention your way “We don’t know how many HYDRA agents are here and I don’t plan to take my chances with them on my first mission.”

“You, what are you doing here?” Peggy had a gentle smile, letting the red lipstick expose her teeth

“Long story Peggy, Bucky went through some stuff but he is with us now an-“

“Y/N.” Agent Carter let your name roll off her lips with such familiarity it almost got you believing into something as old as time.

“What?” Bucky observed the situation feeling like Alice in Wonderland

“I haven’t seen you for a few years now.” She continued

“You-you know me?” the words stuttered on their way out

“Of course. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Let’s say that Cap’s 106 year old self survived another unexpected surprise.

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she-toadmask · 3 years

Text

Fuck it. Long post about the animatic for this mashup (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WxAJpP9FKA) that I would love to do but simply don’t have the project focus for.

Not a single coherent story or anything, just the different ideas the snippets give me. All somehow Minecraft related. Some are Team Crafted, a couple are Hermitcraft S7 but more the beginning, some are just Minecraft typical characters (Notch, Herobrine, Alex, Steve)

Oh and a couple of them are Sanders Sides

Also sometimes they vibes and ideas come from the context of the source musical (because I know it), sometimes I don’t know the context and/or much of anything about the source musical so I just go off the lyrics and vibes (so if someone here has an interest in musicals and thinks some of the vibes are wrong...sorry????? lmao)

0:00 to 0:10 (Hellfire instrumental): title card duh

0:11 to 0:23 (Miss Baltimore Crabs): Notch being a whiny bitch like ‘ugh things used to be so good when I was the god of this world creating things and now things are just awful’

0:24 to 0:42 (Charming): Something something just stills of Patton in a skirt going across the screen or something??? (Upon second thought maybe it’s him and Roman stills and Janus is warning Virgil or smth???? Idk it’s pre-redux vibes but whatever I had nothing)

0:43 to 0:55 (Kick it Up a Notch): I just remember vibes of someone being chained up and the captor looming over them but I have no idea who they were I promise I get more ideas later on these are just rough (Ok maybe it was like Janus looming over Virgil but again the vibes aren’t up-to-date and I don’t have as strong thoughts here ANYWAY MOVING ON)

0:56 to 1:12 (Blood in the Water/When the Going Gets Tough blended): I don’t remember my original thought but two characters circling a third vibes are strong here like maybe Enderlox and WitherMU circling Skybrine??? Maybe???

1:13 to 1:36 (Razzle Dazzle): Again pre-redux Sanders Sides vibes but Janus talking to Roman and then just Roman being Roman I guess? Just like (this fits in with some other Chicago animatics featuring Sanders Sides folks that I would love to do but never will) Roman committed murder (obvs) and Janus is Corrupt Lawyer and reassuring him that the press will love him and he’ll get off (also the foreign girl in Cell Block Tango is Patton)

1:37 to 1:46 (Dentist): I think I just was thinking Skybrine posing and doing some stupid little dance? Idk a lot of iffy ones in these first two minutes yikes

1:47 to 2:04 (Killer Instinct): I had a good idea for this one! But it’s gone! Oof!

2:05 to 2:23 (Loud): So Bruno and Augustus are standing on either side of Seto (normal) and are singing the song and going to make him join Klub Ice. At the line ‘the less you have to say the louder you yell it’ they pull off his big cloak/robe/whatever and then during the next line they’re somehow (idk Klub Ice magic roll with it) changing his clothes from whatever he wore under the cloak into appropriate Klub Ice attire and then shove him offscreen (idk just this part and the way she sings it gives me hella Klub Ice vibes just like brain? nah fam be loud and sexy and party)

2:24 to 2:52 (Stars): All I remember was someone standing on a rooftop looking out and that’s...just the song.

2:53 to 3:14 (Wait for it): Again I have no idea what I thought at the time but it was definitely angsty (:

3:15 to 3:24 (A Sentimental Man): I know Notch is singing (because evil man everyone thinks is good) and the vibes I’m getting now are either Sky or Steve and I have no idea which.

3:25 to 3:45 (Hey Little Songbird): Herobrine is singing and smoking a cigar/ette and grinds it under his foot at the end to put it out, I think maybe he was singing to Alex? Could also be like TrueMU or Deadlox or something but idk mate

3:46 to 3:56ish (Macavity): It’s about Herobrine who is appearing vaguely in the background making sexy(?) poses and someone else was in the foreground singing at some point??? Idk could be Sky and Deadlox could be Steve and Alex who tf knows not me not today

3:57 to 4:05 (The Pitiful Children): I think I had Herobrine singing to not-brine Sky? Circling ofc but if there was context it’s long vanished from my brain

4:06 to 4:16 (Easy Street): oh hey look hermitcraft It’s from the Head Games and whoever was giving all the cave spider heads is just dancing and a bunch of cave spider heads fall down and then at the end Cleo shows up as SpiderCleo and is just pissed

4:17 to 4:30 (The American Dream): I. Honestly have even less clue than the others. I think this one was always a weird one and honestly after learning a little bit about the source musical idk if I want to mess with that

4:31 to 4:42 (What’s Up Duloc): Ok I love this one it’s evil Notch and he’s just like looking over the world like ‘I’m going to destroy this’ and on the ‘bum bum bum bum bum’ small pictures of the Team Crafted folks in despair at an event pop up on beat like that’s what he’s planning to do to destroy them because Team Crafted strong like I seriously love that idea

4:43 to 5:03 (World Burn): Pretty simple, just Evil Xisuma, cuts on certain beats, whatever he has is maybe like somethign that brings up an admin panel? Or something like that? Anyway just Evil Xisuma being evil and angry what if it was emblazoned with a shimmering red apple on the back like a red version (for Hels) of a Notch apple because I love me some evil Notch

5:04 to 5:31 (Last Midnight): Another one I really really like! Going with some source vibes, like Herobrine is holding Sky’s amulet (he got deadified) and he’s singing it so angrily because his son (adopted because of magic deals but shhh) is dead due to these assholes and the assholes include Mitch (idk I guess Jerome is the ‘Baker’s wife’ here and got fucked over by prince bitch), Deadlox, TrueMU, and I guess Ssundee? Idk it’s just angry and upset Herobrine because people can suck and now his son is dead

5:32 to 5:44ish (Poor Unfortunate Souls): Felt more like an evil Herobrine song to me. He’s doing the deal thing and stuff is emphasized with fire because duh, probably Sky on the other side of the deal because Skybrine yeet, but yeah the fun

5:45 to 6:09 (Meant to be Yours): Deadlox (suitably fucked up because Heathers) banging on Sky’s closet door (Sky is inside because Heathers context) and there’s an image of them standing before a burning building idk it’s just the Heathers song but the bits she takes for the mashup and with Team Crafted boys

6:10 to 6:16 (Johanna): Uhhhhh the singer isn’t shown but I think it was just feminine Alex dancing and then sitting and looking out a window

6:17 to 6:40 (Hellfire for real this time): Notch is standing in a religious looking building and thinking horny thoughts and the object of his lust is also feminine Alex because reasons

6:41 to 6:55 (bits of some of the other songs): Just mini frames of the scenes; at the end the whole screen is Evil X doing his thing

I do not remember as much as I wish I did but hey it’s there

Anyway some of these could work as full animatics for the source song (Loud is a maybe, Poor Unfortunate Souls is obviously doable, Last Midnight is also a maybe, Razzle Dazzle definitely has the appropriateness for a full animatic) but some of them do not because of context and other stuff (Like...most of the ones I wasn’t sure about and then also Easy Street because the rest of it is significantly less fun, What’s Up Duloc has a lot of musical context in there, stuff like that). Idk it was just something I was thinking about again and this was the best way to talk about it all.

Also I thought evil Notch was underutilized and then I found more fics and I am vibing with them like I don’t have a problem with good Notch in fics but evil is so much more fun (then again I love Herobrine as a character because you can write him however the fuck you want sooooo)

#mcyt #might delete #seriously evil notch is my jam #especially if he's still the creator! not because evil creator is my jam specifically like #he is a god or powerful and just doesn't like the world or the people in it #and is going to be evil and shit

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dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

An Artist In His Own Mind

Summary: Every artist is a genius in his own mind.

Words: 2,900

Warnings: Talk of murder.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo 2020! This fulfills my unsub square.

“Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.” – Jackson Pollock

He needed silence to work.

Finally, the pleas that rang through the air subsided, leaving him with peace and quiet to think. Moving quickly was essential - before the bodies became too stiff to work with. They were the perfect specimens for his first piece.

After propping her up onto the chair with her palms upward, he wiped the blood off her neck: a clean canvas. White cloth draped around her neck and body, though it took longer than he expected to get the material to sit just right. Thankfully, he at least partly situated the boy into the position he needed. If he hadn’t there would’ve been much more damage getting him situated into the woman’s arms. It left him more time to clean the boy off and ensure a perfect finished work of art.

They lived alone and had little contact with others in the neighborhood. No one would come looking for a while. Due to the boy’s slightly contorted position it took a while to get his clothes off, but once they’d been removed, he draped the excess cloth hanging from the woman’s body over his lap.

Stepping back, he admired his work. Like any good artist, he could see areas he’d like to improve, but unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. There was just one final touch. He grabbed a screwdriver from the woman’s basement and pried open the can of paint – SW 7588, Show Stopper. With every jostle of the screwdriver against the lid of the paint can, he grew more and more angry, impatience boiling inside him, the desire to perfect his piece growing exponentially.

Stirring the paint ensured it was smooth and ready for the canvas. The crimson stared back at him. Carefully, he lifted the can above his work, steadily pouring the medium out until it was gone.

With a satisfied sigh, he stepped back and pulled out the Polaroid, capturing his first completed work.

---

Morgan walked into the bullpen with sand still scratching at the corners of his eyes. Every heartbeat said coffee. Apparently, Spencer already beat him there. “Late night, kid?” He laughed. He was pouring so much sugar into his coffee, he would swear a little mountain peak was going to breakthrough the top of the steaming liquid.

Grumbling, Spencer nodded. “So late.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer smirked, glancing toward Morgan quickly before looking away. God, he wanted to go home.

“Woah, woah,” he said, stepping in front of the nearly comatose doctor. “That kinda late night?”

Spencer began walking back toward his desk, whispering, “I’ll never tell.”

“You haven’t dated anyone since Y/N,” Morgan stated, catching up to his evasive friend. “I always thought it was a mistake breaking up with her. You back together?”

“I’ll never tell,” he repeated on a laugh.

Before they could return to their desks and Morgan could pester Spencer just a little bit more, Hotch stepped out of his office and began marching toward the round table room. “Guys, we’ve got a case.”

“It didn’t come through me?” JJ mentioned.

Hotch shook his head. “No, it came directly to me. A friend from New York got out of the city and began working in Cazenovia upstate. He’s got a weird one.”

“How weird?” Rossi asked.

“Even we’ve never seen anything like it.”

Emily sighed heavily. “When does it end?”

It doesn’t, she thought.

---

“Where’s Garcia?” Hotch asked.

Emily motioned toward the elevator. “She’s just on her way up. I’ll catch her up once we’re all briefed.”

Nodding, Hotch clicked the button on the remote. “In Cazenovia, there have been three people murdered via a single stab wound to the neck.”

“And they’re connected?” Morgan queried. “How do we know?”

When Hotch clicked the remote, their mouths collectively dropped, eyes alight with a confusion that was hard to come by given their line of work.

“What the hell?” Emily leaned forward in her chair trying to make some sense of the pictures in front of them. “They’ve been posed.”

“And have paint splattered on them.”

“Even though the victims aren’t connected in any way that the local PD can find, they were all killed with a knife. The unique signature is why we were called in.” Hotch passed copies of the files out to each member of the team. “With a signature unique as this and these kills only a week apart, there’s no doubt this unsub is going to strike again soon. We’ll go over victimology on the plane. Wheels up in 30.”

---

Despite the sun shining, the jet always felt solemn, like it knew it was a harbinger of bad things to come. “Alright, so what do we know about the victims?” Hotch asked Garcia, her bright and shining face the only light they’d see for at least the next few days.

“The first victims were a mother and son, Linda and Brian Tucker, 40 and 15 years old, found a week ago like this.” She brought up the pictures from the crime scene and flinched. No matter how many crime scenes she saw, she’d never get used to it. “The second victim, found yesterday, was 33-year old Matthew Feldman.”

He was posed in a chair and redressed in a green pea coat and long black pants that were slightly too baggy for his slight frame. His face was bandaged, a white covering wrapped around his ears and tied on the top of his head. And he was doused in orange paint. Garcia’s fingers glided across the keyboard like a seagull over the waves. “I’m checking everything they could’ve possibly had in common. Churches, schools, work places, dry cleaners, nothing. These three aren’t connected. At least as far as I can see.”

“Alright, let’s move away from victimology for the time being,” Hotch said. “What do the crime scene photos tell us about the killer?”

Emily noted the cleanliness of the bodies apart from the paint. “With stab wounds to the neck, they should be drenched in blood, but they aren’t. The area around them is, but they aren’t, like they were wiped off.”

“So they’re clean,” Rossi replied, “But the paint is messy. It could’ve been painted on for more control, but it seems like it was poured.”

Spencer stared at the screen, eyes scanning over the poses on display. “The bodies are intricately posed and cleaned. They’re what matter to him. The bodies are the compulsion, the paint is the signature.”

“What are you thinking, Reid?” Morgan asked.

“They’re works of art,” he said. “See the mother and son? She’s sitting with the boy in her lap, her hands palm up. What does that remind you of?”

An art lover himself, Rossi silently chastised himself for not realizing what the crime scene resembled sooner. “The Pieta. The sculpture of Mary cradling Jesus after his crucifixion…and the man…it’s Van Gogh’s self-portrait after returning from the hospital after having cut off his ear.”

“So this guy thinks himself an artist and is picking victims at random,” Morgan grumbled. “Lovely. We need to get to Cazenovia yesterday.”

---

After checking in with Sheriff Meyer, who’d called Hotch in first place, Spencer and Rossi headed to the latest crime scene, leaving JJ, Hotch, Emily and Morgan to liaise with the authorities and try and nail down a profile. “Alright, an artist like this has to be connected to the world in some way,” Morgan insisted. “Maybe he’s an art student, a local artist, something.”

Emily shook her head. “It’s gotta be more than that. If he was successful in any way, wouldn’t the ‘art’ in question be completely perfect? Pristine? The paint is messy. Why?”

“Maybe a rejected artist then,” he replied. “Someone who got denied viewership in a gallery or turned away from a prestigious art school. Color could be part of why he was turned down, so when it comes to the paint he’s disorganized.”

Before anyone could alert Garcia, the sheriff walked in, forlorn. “We’ve got another one.”

---

“What’s this one supposed to be?” Emily asked.

Spencer crouched near the man’s body, his torso wrapped in a similar pea coat to the last victim and a captain’s hat, yellowed with age – all topped with yellow paint. “Portrait of Dr. Gachet. Another Van Gogh piece. It seems a pattern is forming. Both pieces are very melancholic. Could be a reflection of our unsub.”

Morgan reached his gloved hand into the man’s pocket. “46 year old Andrew Warner. Lemme call Garcia.”

“You’ve reached the all-knowing and all-seeing Oracle of Quantico, how may I assist thee?”

“What can you give me on an Andrew Warner?”

“Andrew Warner, 1109 Nighthawk Lane, Syracuse, NY. He’s the operator of a local art gallery in Auburn called Light’s Meaning…sounds a little pretentious if you ask me.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said softly. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“I’m waiting on it, sugar.”

“Seems like our unsub is starting to get a little closer to his true targets. How much you wanna bet our guy was rejected by Andrew Warner?”

“Less than a day in between kills,” Emily interjected. “He’s devolving fast. We need to give the profile.”

---

As the officers piled into the station’s bullpen, the team gathered before them. JJ took a step forward and asked for everyone’s attention. “Listen closely. This unsub is devolving fast and this profile is going to be the best way to catch him.”

“Alright, we’re looking for a white male between the ages of 20 and 30 whose been rejected from art school or a showing at a gallery,” Emily projected toward the murmuring crowd. No matter how many times they gave a profile to an innumerable amount of officers and detectives, there were always a few skeptics.

Leaning against the back wall, Spencer spoke. “He’s an injustice collector of sorts and feels that he’s been wronged. For right now, his victims are random, but they’re surrogates for the people who rejected him.”

“He’s devolving fast,” Hotch said. “Even though the crime scenes are still organized, the bodies are still being cleaned and the paint is still his signature, he’s killing more quickly with less and less time between kills.”

Morgan insisted. “That’s why we need all of you involved in the search for our unsub. The quicker we can pin down who he is, where he was rejected from and who wronged him, the more people we’ll be able to save. We need to get ahead of this guy.”

“And one more thing,” Emily added. “Given the likelihood that this is a student who’s been rejected, and the time of year, October. It’s likely the unsub was rejected months ago and there’s a secondary stressor that kick-started the killing spree. However, we can’t rule out that this is someone rejected from a gallery. Just something to keep in mind.”

---

He could feel the breeze brush by him as he hurriedly ran downstairs, barreling through anything that might be in his way. The FBI was in town and he still had work to do, but he’d have to move his schedule forward.

On the table sat a newspaper clipping: “Administrator Gavin P. Hall promoted to President at Tisch.”

---

Garcia had this innate ability to shine in the face of darkness. Something the rest of the team envied her for. She slid across the floor of her office, the wheels of her chair carrying her gracefully though she somehow managed to bump into her computer desk. “Okay, my pretties, I have been doing a lot of digging and I mean a lot. My hands are dirty and it’s caked under my fingernails kind of dirty. Now, I know the locals have been going door to door searching for anyone that fits the profile and has been rejected from a gallery, so I decided to look into people in the greater New York area that have been rejected from art school and boy do I have a list for you.”

“Send it over, baby girl.”

She feigned a gasp. “Mon ami, you don’t think that happened 30 seconds ago?”

“Garcia, can you narrow this list down?” Spencer asked. “We think there’s another more recent stressor that sparked the killing spree.”

“I’m gonna need something specific to narrow it down by,” she said sadly. “I mean I am an all powerful super genius hacker chick, but I can’t pull answers out of thin air.”

Rossi tapped his fingers against the desk. “Okay, okay, the third and fourth victims were both depicted like Van Gogh’s works, right? Why wasn’t the first one? The mother and son?”

“Okay, so the mother and son has to mean something,” Hotch admitted.

Spencer pushed back from the table. “With an unsub so purposeful, the bodies, the way they’re cleaned and positioned, the paints. It all means something, so a mother and a son. Garcia, have any of the suspects lost their mother recently.”

With a few quick swipes of the keys, Garcia had a list of five names. “Only one of them has lost their mother in the last week and a half though?” She said. “Trenton Price, and his address is now on your phones. Also, out of the five finalists, he’s the only one to be rejected from Tisch – one of the premiere art schools in the country.”

They all pushed back from the table, intent clear. “Alright, Reid, you, me and Emily will head to Price’s address. Rossi, you, Morgan and JJ head to Tisch, interview anyone that was involved in Price’s rejection.”

---

It would take hours for Spencer, Emily and Hotch to catch up with them, but at least they could give them a heads up. “Morgan, it’s Reid. We went to the address and he wasn’t there, but his cellphone went on and Garcia triangulated the call-“

“Lemme guess, he’s at Tisch.”

“Yup. Be careful.”

“Thanks for the heads up, kid.”

Rossi stepped on the gas, sirens blaring. “We’ll be there in five.”

“You sure about that?” JJ grimaced, hand grasping the handle above the window like her life depended on it. “We’re in the middle of New York City.”

“And I grew up on Long Island, I got this.”

In less than five minutes, Rossi screeched the car to a halt and they ran in, guns at the ready. Students ran down the hallways and down the stairs toward any exit they could find. “Where? Where are they?” JJ yelled.

“In the president’s office! Second floor!” She screamed, the clacking of her heels dissipating within the seconds.

They ran up the stairs, hearts racing while students ran passed, whispers of the ensuing sanity floating by their ears. “Trenton Price,” Morgan screamed, “Put your weapon down!”

“No! They have to pay! I’ve worked all my life for this and they just shut me down! Like the pretentious bastards they are!”

In his grasp, Gavin Hall squirmed but the knife inched closer and closer to his throat. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

Rossi stepped in front of Morgan and JJ, taking the lead though none of them had vests on. They never expected him to be so desperate so soon. “Trenton, don’t do anything you’re gonna regret,” he pleaded. “If you kill Hall here, you’ll take away his ability to make things right. Give you the opportunities you deserve.”

JJ snaked around the back of Rossi and trained her gun on Price, hoping for a chance to get a shot off.

“Yea, right! What d’you think I’m stupid?”

Nodding slightly, Rossi encouraged the terrified Hall to ‘make amends.’ Rossi prompted him. “Your mother was your biggest fan, wasn’t she? Encouraged your artistic abilities?”

“Yes, she always knew I’d be an artist, and now I am,” he breathed, a tear falling down the side of his cheek. “But then they rejected me. Told me I was an amateur! That my choice of medium was basic and pedantic. Do you know how many skilled artists specialized in charcoal? Robert Longo, William Kentridge, Dan Pyle, Joel Daniel Phillips! And these assholes tell me I’m arcane and talentless?”

“You’re not,” Hall said, putting together the pieces of Price’s mental state. “I was wrong about you. About your work.

“Liar!” He lifted his arm above his head. A crack resounded throughout the room and he fell to the floor, groaning.

JJ ran up to him and kicked the knife away, holstering her gun before turning him over and cuffing him. “You okay?” She asked Hall.

“Y-yes,” he breathed. “I’m okay. I-“

“You got this?” Morgan asked.

She nodded. “Yea, I’m good, get him to the medic.”

Price screamed at the top of his lungs through the hallways, telling anyone and everyone that he was going to be the next great artist. “Please,” JJ replied. “You’re throwing a temper tantrum because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

---

“So, kid,” Morgan said with a smile. “You gotta tell me about the other night. What happened with Y/N?”

Emily’s eyes lit up and she practically jumped into the seat next to him. “Wait, you two back together?”

He shook his head but he wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “As soon as we get back, I am going home and going to bed.”

“With Y/N?”

“I’m not telling,” he smirked.

#cmbingo #cmbingo2020 #cmbingo20 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #derek morgan #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #dontshootmespence #an artist in his own mind

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bubmyg · 5 years

Text

generationsuga - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: dancer!yoongi, fluff, brief mentions of tap dancer!jin, taehyung and jeongguk are the justin bieber of 2012 in this universe

word count: 2,756

summary: he’s a commercial hip hop dancer who takes small jobs here and there but mostly spends his time at the small studio he owns with you. you teach ballet and jazz technique classes to disinterested kids who are mostly there for the guy (yoongi) who had an “epic” fifteen second b-boying solo in a kim taehyung video or the children figure out that they have to pay attention to you or else yoongi makes them do wall sits.

There was an extra crack in his spine when he straightened from the stereo but the music emitting from the same chipped speakers wasn’t unfamiliar, track seven on disc three of a five disc set he’d bought before the official opening of the studio. Warm up music, a low fi beat with just enough accentuation to be useful in improv, track seven one he never used (in fact, he barely used disc three at all) because the kids complained enough about stretching and he didn’t need the added distraction of Yoongi, this is making me fall asleep!

The top 40 playlist filtered through Seokjin’s Spotify membership did the trick instead.

The second catch in his spine wasn’t surprising but new in comparison to the wood floors underneath his sneakers, shining from their weekly Wednesday visit by the cleaners. They’d been there for years, just as the mirrors stretching the length of the far wall, complete with two elevated barres, a stack of mats, and an ever growing collection of forgotten pointe ribbons.

Yoongi stared at himself through the same smudges in the mirror, fingerprints appearing no matter how many times he told his classes not to touch them, counting subconsciously in his head and his body moved a fraction before eight without having to be told. His shoes were new, laced for once because you’d scolded him of rolling his ankle and he no longer had the luxury of healing quickly from injuries. Minimal scuffs lined the soles but a new one formed when he toed into the floor, legs freezing while his upper half rolled with an elongated hi-hat. He added an arm without thinking about it, one on his chest, latter pressing straight, wrist locked and palm flat.

The next half a count and he jerked his arm backward, moving in the opposite direction from the flow of his hand, wave of locked fingers catching on the reflection of a variety of plaques hanging on the far wall. His hand in the mirror followed the journey of his career, from a young student with a hat way too big for his head and ambitions to match, ones that jerked his shoulder out of place when he insisted he could copy the ridiculous b-boy position he didn’t even know the name for. He cut the position from his piece and earned his first award, his first scholarship, his first opportunity.

The in between was frivolous, scholarships earning classical training that laid the base for his first appearance, a background dancer on a children’s television show. He was seventeen and had grown into his snapbacks just a fraction more but not enough for him to stand out in the middle row of the formation. University came and he continued to get by on his basics, joining way too many clubs that let him exist without straightening his elbows and extending through his ankles. It was coincidence and talent that brought him to his senior showcase hours after a near breakdown as what would come next, a talent scout scouring the corridors after the show until they located the bleached blonde and offered him an audition for an upcoming music video.

His picture with Kim Taehyung, Tae, became a collage, frames cluttered together on the studio wall with each new video he entertained with the superstar, his friend. Superstardom of Yoongi’s own in the dance world that led him to his quiet house on the outskirts of the city limits within walking distance of a tiny studio he’d bought after a year of sizable paychecks. The bill of sale was framed too, on top of a hoard of receipts from the mirrors, the floors, the mountains of paint, and the new computer Seokjin insisted he buy him if he were going to operate the front desk. He didn’t know he kept it all but he didn’t know why he’d throw away evidence of his passion, either.

The accomplishment wall ended but his focus traveled to the glint of the diamond band shoved snug underneath his knuckle. It wasn’t new and neither were you. The various frames of glossed pictures, diplomas, scholarship announcements, and flimsy receipts were tainted with you.

Your forgotten ballet slipper in the corridor of his first school and your bashful smile when you informed him you had already purchased another pair by the time he returned it to you. The ice you’d brought him for his shoulder and the teasing scold that sometimes practice does make perfect. The easy arch of your back and elongation of your calf on the barre that he could only gape at for thirteen different reasons. The bounce of your stature in the back row of his first television show and his internal decision that he’d rather have your smile lighting up the screen than a half second glance of him completing the choreography. That same smile peeking out from behind his dorm room door, a half second visit to collect your brightly colored bag stacked on top of his stark black one but ending in you being late because his lips pressed against yours one too many times. The flowers in his arms after the talent scout tugged on his elbow from you, your arm falling from around his waist as he chatted with the man but your proud affection never faltering.

The picture in the middle of his Taehyung collage with you wrapped up underneath his arm, your first and only public duet three days before your wedding and a week and a half before the official opening of the studio. Your signature was squished next to his on the bill of sale. Your name was first on the owner tagline underneath the ridiculously large neon sign hanging from the front of the building

“Why get GenerationSuga in size seventy-eight font when you can get it in size two hundred font for twenty dollars more?” Seokjin achieved his wish in the same way he garnered Yoongi’s credit card to buy new tap shoes (“If you’re going to make me teach and run your entire establishment, the least you can do is buy me some proper equipment”). Persistence.

Yoongi was mid turn when the door opened, ball of his foot planted behind his opposite heel, turning him a rotation and a half until he was planted. The indentations in his cheeks grew higher, encompassing his teeth and then his gums as he watched you shake your head, nudging the studio door shut with your hip.

“Pirouette,” He teased, “and a half.”

“You never were good on relevé,” You stepped around him, discarding your half soles and tattered jazz shoes next to the pile of pointe ribbons.

He cocked an awkward pose in response, “And you never could quite count anything other than Beethoven.”

The music had shifted, track eight, something slow and ridiculous. Not quite slow dancing music but not quite dancing music in general. You snagged Yoongi’s hand and dragged him closer. He avoided squashing your bare toes and corrected the position, arm around your waist and hand clasped in yours.

“Why didn’t we ballroom dance at our wedding again?”

Yoongi wrinkled his nose, spinning you in an off beat circle that curled your toes in delicate placements around his shoe clad feet. “Shoulder…” He’d barely been able to hold onto you without crying (for seventeen different reasons, pain the primary) and you said nothing just like you hadn’t since holding ice on his sore muscles years prior in the dingy boys locker room. You’d advised against him trying that one faithful position on set before the first take of your shared Kim Taehyung video. The video was shot in one take because he managed it and then could barely move the rest of the day. Or the next three days. Or the next week.

You hummed, pattering fingertips into the spoken muscle as he twirled you back in, holding you close. “I can’t count and you’re stubborn,” You dug your thumb into his collarbone, “Why do we own a dance studio?”

He dipped you mostly because you knew exactly where to press to make the already weakened muscle give out. “We can sell it to Jin,” Yoongi told the brush of his lips against your cheek, “The kids already adore him. His tap empire would flourish.”

Something shifted in your eyes when you nodded, aiding Yoongi in dragging your figure back up. Softly you moved, resting your cheek against his chest as you moved in a minuscule circle about yourselves, shoulders sagging as your fingers twisted into his shirt.

“What?” Yoongi’s lips bumped against your hairline, “The only person better would be you. You’re—”

“The kids hate me.”

Yoongi stalled your movements. It was silent in the studio. Track eight was the last one on disc three.

“The only way they could hate me more is if I actually used Beethoven in my classes,” You continued, voice grumbled and muffled against him.

He began moving again, back and forth rather than in a circle. Thumbs gentle on the small of your back, lips coating your ear, “Were they bad again?”

Something like terrible left your lips and Yoongi sighed. Well known in the dance world meant idolized by children meant children enrolled at his studio meant children who only wanted to come to his classes and skip everyone else along the way, even if it was in the contract, if they were training just as he and you had in your youth, or if they were simply recreational students with homemade posters of him plastered on their doors. You didn’t take it personally but sometimes it was hard not to.

Yoongi took it personally.

“What if we add an extra hour of technique in today?”

You peeled your cheek from his chest, giving him prime opportunity to cup your face even as you frowned. “Why would we do that? Your supposed to have them next—”

“I will,” He beamed and pecked the confused wrinkle of your lips, “You can teach my class today.”

You stared at him as he continued to poke his thumbs against the side of your lips just to watch your cheeks inflate and deflate. “...you want me to teach a hip hop class?”

“I have some things in mind for warm up today but then yes,” Yoongi kissed you harder this time, letting his nose brush against yours as he pulled away, “I want you to do whatever you want.”

You watched as he strode across the studio, opening the door with a delayed greeting, the sugary sweet hey, guys! on his lips stalled by the tumbling rush of children through the door, chanting Yoongi! like bored parrots. It was like your presence sucked away their voice and enthusiasm, the ripple effect of silence traveling from the first child who saw you all the way to the last until it was just a low murmur among themselves.

“Get your shoes on,” Yoongi was saying, taking to the sound system in the corner to press the auxiliary cord into his phone. “We’re going to do something a little bit different today.”

“Is Miss helping today?”

There was a groan at the suggestion, muffled and panicked on the tail end that they’d actually let it slip and Yoongi smiled in the general direction of the offender.

“Yes, actually,” Your head snapped up when the beginnings of Fur Elise crackled out of worn speakers. “I’ll be running warm ups and then Miss will be taking over from there. Head on over to the wall for me, line up.”

Even as a trained classical dancer, wall sits to a repeating playlist of Fur Elise were among even your own personal hell. The same fury of the children seemed to be turned on you as well, the difference in their usual serene classroom, warm ups skipped by Yoongi in favor of learning a new combination. Their narrowed eyes lasered into you from your frozen spot at the barre, attention only shifting when Yoongi began to speak.

“I’ve heard that your attention seems to be lacking in technique class,” He cocked an eyebrow at a young boy in a baggy tank top until he sunk further onto the wall, “and jazz. And anything that frankly is not this class right here. Is that true?”

Silence.

“You know, I was a young dancer like you guys once. I didn’t use think the basics were important, either. I slopped through jazz one and two. I never made it past two. Everyone else in my class graduated with jazz five. They had to make a special exception for me because my work ethic was horrendous and the instructors were, frankly, tired of dealing with me.”

Someone whined. It’d barely been forty seconds on the wall.

“I don’t want you guys to be like me. I want you to be better than me. Feature in a Jeon Jeongguk video,” A little girl’s eyes lit up, causing her to come out of position. Yoongi didn’t scold her because he didn’t blame her. “And who better to learn from than my lovely partner in crime…”

Your skin flushed hot and you smiled bashfully when several pairs of eyes turned back to you this time without malice. Partially with indifference, partially in apology. Whether it was wall sit induced apology or not, you indulged in it.

“If you’re good and pay attention, we won’t have to do anymore wall sits,” A nod and they all came off the wall with a sigh of relief. “...so pay attention.”

“I won’t go too hard on you guys,” You spoke up finally, arms unfurling from your chest to hang awkwardly at your sides. “Correcting Yoongi’s technique violations in his hip hop lessons is a tiring endeavor.”

There were a few giggles as the hoard of children began to shuffle toward you. Small victories.

“Alright...uh. Spread apart for me…”

Yoongi shut off Fur Elise as you began to lecture on extending through your turnout. Proper arm placements. Pretty hands versus hamburger hands (“I’m not the hip hop expert but I’m fairly certain there’s limited times you need to look like you’re hoarding multiple McDonald’s cheeseburgers in your fists.”). More giggles.

“Oh, so…” Yoongi shoved himself up off the stool in the corner, standing next to you. He cocked his hip at the worst angle he could manage, toes sickled and turned as far inward as he could manage. Ankle weak behind the laces of his sneakers. He made crab hands, snapping them each at you, “Like this, right?”

You glared at him, fond and hopelessly endeared as he hopped, changing legs. He winced as a muscle in his knee twinged but he kept up the act. “See? I can do it to the other side too. That’s important, right? To be able to do things on both sides?”

“You have to be able to do it correctly on one to say you can do it on both.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched and you scrunched your nose at him. Battle cries.

“Mhmm, I think some wall sits might be in order for the teacher this time,” He took a menacing step toward you and you held your ground.

“Make me.”

He caught your waist to the tune of shrieking giggles, lifting and dragging you away until you were out of the studio followed by a train of protesting children.

Bring our teacher back, Yoongi!

Yeah, you can’t steal them! They’re ours!

Bring them back!

Yoongi carried you past the front desk, lips behind your ear while you struggled, gasping for breath between laughter, chaos so much you barely heard Seokjin’s chair clack against the wall and his shouts of Hey! No running in my lobby! Seokjin’s herding and Yoongi’s lead dragged you into the opposite studio, your studio, where he plopped you down on a stack of mats similar to the one in his studio.

A labored breath had your surroundings clearing, finding him hovering above you, shoulders sagging as he tried to collect himself as well. The children were shrieking but you took no mind to it, a smile overtaking your features seconds before Yoongi’s lips descended onto your own. More yelling but it faded away this time as the children fled the scene, entering another Seokjin tyraid as he yelped, “What did I say about running?”

“I stand by my statement. Your turnout is horrible.”

Yoongi nipped at your bottom lip, grinning into the next press of your lips.

“Care to give me a private lesson later?”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #yoongi scenario #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #listen idk really what this is but :-(#dancer yoongi is cute and whipped :-(

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freekshow17 · 4 years

Text

Reddie Ch2 ‘The Red Carpet”

Reddie with short appearances of Benverly and The Uris’

Word Count 1.9K

Richie was able to convince Eddie there was no time for a shower, wiping off would have to do. Eddie compromised with extra cologne. Richie laughed as Eddie sprayed himself liberally, "You can cover up the smell all you want Kaspbrak, but unless you got make up lying around, those little love bites ain't going anywhere." Eddie's eyes shot up to the mirror he stood in front of, he was instantly aware of the perfectly circular near purple bruise dead center, he whipped around to glare at Richie who was standing tall, full of pride, with a toothy grin stretched across his face. "Are you fucking kidding me Tozier?!" Richie kept his pose, only tilting his eyes down to meet Eddie's "Curious. What's a bigger problem? You with that, or me - with these." Richie rotates his head side to side exposing all the blue and black marks that trail from ear, down his neck around to the other ear. Eddie's jaw slowly lowers as his eyes go wide "Shit." Richie lets out a deep belly laugh opening his arms to embrace Eddie "Oh Ed's. It's alright, if you want, I'll blame it on a wild girlfriend, you can... well… say Myra came back to town" as Eddie leans into Richie's chest allowing his arms to wrap around him Richie finished that statement, Eddie snaps back. "Fuck you." Richie nearly topples over from the immediate anger radiating from his new partner, catching himself on the corner of the bed frame. Richie lets himself fall to the bed rolling to his back clutching his stomach, Eddie stares at him blankly "Why? Why are you the way you are?" Richie tries to look serious but the second he looks to Eddie he starts to laugh again. "Seriously, Fuck you Rich." Eddie says as he starts to walk out of the room, kicking Richie’s leg as he walks past him.

A few minutes pass and Richie has composed himself enough to exit the room and join Eddie where he sits on the arm of the couch in the living room by the door "Ready?" Eddie asks with a hint of anger still in his tone, Richie clears his throat before replying "Yes sir… hey, you actually had make up?" Richie says as he approaches Eddie realizing his bruises are not as noticeable. "Myra wasn't good for much but she was kind enough to forget to take all her crap from the bathroom." Eddie said as the two men make their way to Richie's car, Eddie sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest. Richie takes the wheel and begins their journey to the premiere. With only a few minutes between them, camera crews, and more importantly, the other losers, Richie slows down to the actual speed limit instead of his normal 10 over, to give them time to talk. "Really though Ed's, if you don't want me to tell anyone it was you… I won't. But no matter what I say out there, you gotta know I don't regret what we did. Quite the opposite, actually." He turns to look at Eddie for a moment before directing his eyes back to the road, catching a slight smile peek at the corner of Eddie's mouth. That's all Richie needed; some sign, or gesture, to know Eddie wasn't regretting what they had shared. "I don't regret it either Rich… I'm… just not yet, okay?" Eddie looked up to Richie with what Richie could only interpret as uncertainty, he replied with a nod at first "You got it buddy." Richie said softly, hoping it would ease the obvious worry Eddie was feeling. He couldn't blame him, Richie had these feelings for 30 years and is just now acting on them, he can't expect it to all change at once. "It…" Eddie paused a moment, and they both went tense at the word Eddie hesitated on. Eddie quickly tried to continue "It's just, Myra and I haven't been separated long. I don't want anyone thinking… I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea." This time Richie just replied with a nod, he tried his best to forget Myra was ever apart of Eddie's life, tried to forget she got to have him in the years HE should have had Eddie. Just hearing her name would send Rich on a downward spiral. Eddie sees it but thinks it's from his proposed plan to keep the two of them quiet for now. "Also, I'm embarrassed to say I'm with trashmouth" Eddie adds to cut the mood, it makes Richie smile and a slight huff escapes him. "Understandable Kaspbrak. Here we are." He says as they pull up to a Red Carpet roped off with a small walkway for them to follow to the doors. "Are we supposed to walk together?" Eddie asks nervously. "Don't worry, we can wait a minute for everyone to get here." Richie replies as he watches his rear view mirror to see if anyone else is pulling up. "Rich." Eddie says pointing toward the doors. All the other losers are already inside just beyond the door. "Fu- wait!" Richie started and cut himself off "I knew I loved that man for some reason." Eddie turns to look behind them to see Stanley walking around to his passenger door, opening it and holding out a hand, leading Patty out of the car. "Hurry!" They say in unison as they scramble to get out of the car, cameras already flashing in their direction. "STAN! PATTY!" Richie yells to them as he puts a hand on Eddie's lower back guiding him toward their friends, he quickly moves his hand away and whispers a Sorry to Eddie "Oh, we thought we were gonna be late. I'm so happy we get to walk in with the star." Patty says as she opens her arms demanding a hug from her husband's childhood friends. They've met before and had time to get to know each other over the last couple of years, after Stan decided returning to Derry on a blood oath was not something he counted as an acceptable excuse to miss the vacation he had planned for his wife and himself. They were 40 with no kids and made damn sure their time together was memorable, introducing Patty to the horrors of his childhood were not the memorable moments Stan had in mind. However, after he got a SECOND call from Mike, saying it was all over, he decided to celebrate by bringing Patty into a world he did enjoy: The Losers Club. Now it was as if Patty was an honorary 8th member. "Congrats again Rich, we're so proud of you" Patty continued as they separated from their hug to allow Eddie to get one. "Well… more like surprised for me." smirked Stanley, offering a hand to Richie "Didn't think this trashmouth had it in him?" Richie questioned in a rhetorical sort; he knew Stan always showed his love through his sarcasm. A literal translation of what Stan had said would be more like God I love you Richie Tozier, and I am so proud of you for getting past your demons and making something of yourself. and Richie knew that, so he accepted the sarcasm. After the four friends have greeted each other they make their way up the carpet together, Richie purposefully positioning himself to the far end of the line next to Patty, with Eddie opposite Stan. Seeing the other losers inside he waves them out and they follow. "Richie! Mr. Tozier" Richie heard his name being called from multiple directions. As he stops to pose for photos, he answers a few questions Who's your date? "My best friend's wife" the crowd laughs Who are your other guest? "Oh, these people? Just a bunch a losers!" More laughter Is one of them responsible for all those hickeys? Richie looks down the line before replying making quick eye contact with Eddie but breaking before it was too noticeable "They all wish! But this neck is reserved for the finest of teeth… just ask your mom she'll tell ya." The crowd erupts and Richie thinks that's a good place to leave it be, just before entering the door they pose for one last group photo, the photographer tries to split them into two rows with the tallest man, and man of the hour centered back row, to his right stood Mike, and next to him Ben, to Richie's left was Stan. In front of Stan stood Patty making sure to reach a hand behind her grabbing the hand of her dear husband, then Eddie, Bev, and Bill. "Great guys, perfect, okay and three, two..." the photographer counted down and everyone gives their best smile. Just after the flash Patty took it upon herself to approach the photographer to be sure he had the names right and in the right order. Bev, still linked in arms with Eddie leans in close to whisper, "I never noticed just how perfect your teeth are Ed's." She says perfect with a hint of suspicion, she turns to offer Eddie a smile but that too seems pointed. Does she know Eddie panicked in his head; he goes to question the compliment as Ben steps up beside Beverly "Wow! Am I right? This is amazing." Ben says as he slides his arm around Beverly's waist, and she repositions herself against him. Beverly has had issues in the past with being touched like this, she would wince away from it, it was always out of possession, claiming her as if she were property. But that wasn't the case with Ben. Every time Ben touched her, she could feel his love illuminating from his fingertips, making her feel safe and comforted. Ben always had a way to make her feel better, even when she thought she was at her best. "I know right?!" Bev responds offering a bright smile up to Ben. "To think our Richie is getting an award for being the same knucklehead he was at 13? Priceless. Right Eddie?" Ben asked trying to bring Eddie into the conversation, Ben could tell he was in his own head somewhere. "Yeah. Yeah it's great." Eddie replied still giving Bev a confused stare. "Hey Bev-" Eddie started but was interrupted "Hey! There you all are!" Richie approaches with the rest of the losers crew in tow. "We were gonna head in, but I wanted us to all go in together." Everyone nods in agreement ready to go take their seats. "Now once we're all in there I think a couple people speak, they give me the award for 'up and coming blah blah blah' then the special starts. BEFORE you see it, I want you to all know" Richie waves a hand in front of each loser giving a thoughtful look "You're all in it, I bash all of you, it's hilarious!" He continues as a smirk creeps across his face. All the losers give him a wave of the wrist or a fake punch as the laugh their way from the lobby to their seats. Bev takes a step back from Ben and places a hand on Eddie's shoulder, leaning close to his ear "You used the wrong shade of concealer on those love bites babe, it's still pretty obvious what's under it." She pulls back glancing toward Richie and back to Eddie "Don't worry though, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one to notice. And you know I can keep a secret" she smiles widely, leaving Eddie with a wink as she turns on her heels and heads back up to Ben.

#reddie #the losers #fixing the damn clow movie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stans alive #eddies alive #IT movies #richie and eddie

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ducktracy · 4 years

Text

116. gold diggers of ‘49 (1935)

release date: november 2nd, 1935

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: tommy bond (beans), joe dougherty (porky), bernice hansen (kitty), billy bletcher (villain)

oh man, where to begin? this is probably the most important review yet, arguably more important than i haven’t got a hat. you’re seeing that right! this is tex avery’s directorial debut. some history before we start (yes, this is going to be one of those LONG posts, but it’s certainly worth it):

tex had worked at walter lantz before working at warner bros, where he suffered an eye injury. he was horseplaying in the office—they had a game where one would shoot a rubber. and or a spitball at someone and hit them in the back of the eye, yelling “bullseye!” with each successful shot. the game evolved to using paper clips, and someone told tex to look out. he turned around just in time for the paper clip to strike him in his left eye, losing vision in said eye. many have attributed his poor depth perception to the wackiness and bizarre nature of his cartoons.

avery applied for warner bros, bluffing his way through and telling leon schlesinger he was a director. tex is cited as saying “'hey, i’m, a director'. hell! i was no more a director than nothing, but with my loud mouth, i talked him into it.” with hardaway gone, freleng and king were the only directors there, and avery was graciously accepted.

yet, the staff was growing in size, and avery’s unit was beyond the limit for a single studio. thus, termite terrace was born—a shoddy five room bungalow affectionately dubbed termite terrace as a result of their termite houseguests. he was assigned animators bob clampett, chuck jones, sid sutherland, and virgil ross. instead of animators swarming around to whatever director needed them, avery now had a solid unit, a model that would continue on and distinguish the animators/units as we know them today.

tex is attributed to birthing the studios greatest stars. daffy duck, elmer fudd, and bugs bunny (it could be debated whether he created bugs or ben hardaway created bugs, especially since bugs was hardaway’s nickname and literally named bugs’ bunny. however, for simplicity’s sake, tex is virtually the creator of bugs. he solidified the voice, the personality, and the design, which differed greatly from the hayseed loon that was hardaway’s bugs.) he had a relatively short career at warner bros, leaving in 1941 after a dispute with leon schlesinger over his cartoon the heckling hare (which we’ll cover in depth once we get there). he moved to mgm, where his potential as a director really exploded. he spawned the iconic yet austere droopy, as well as red hot riding hood, the inspiration for jessica rabbit in who framed roger rabbit. this man is responsible for a LOT, including holding the title as one of my favorite directors (the others being, of course, bob clampett and frank tashlin. coincidentally, all of them left sometime in the 40s. maybe that’s why i love the 40s cartoons so much)

i’ll run my mouth more at the end of the review, soap boxing on why this cartoon is so important, but let’s actually SEE the contents of the cartoon so we can interpret it. it’s 1849, the heart of the gold rush. beans and porky wish to hit it big by digging for gold, but a nefarious villain snatches their findings, resulting in trouble.

tex avery loved to play around with words, whether it be sign gags or narrating captions as we see here. open to a remote western town, rife with cacti and dry land. “THE TIME” is proudly displayed on the screen as we pan to a covered wagon, a calendar inside clueing us in that it’s july of 1849. “THE PLACE”—we pan to a saloon titled “GOLDVILLE SALOON”. and, of course, “THE GIRL”.

little kitty comes bounding out of the general store, joining a crowd congregating around a bulletin board. the newspaper article posted details beans’ gold digging ambitions: “YOUNG PROSPECTOR TO HUNT GOLD IN RED GULCH”. a picture of a proud beans, posing with his pickaxe and his mule. below it: “BEANS — local boy to brave hazards of red gulch for gold”.

absolutely ecstatic, kitty snatches the paper from the billboard and rushes away. bernice hansen’s delivery is on point and absolutely hilarious as kitty gives her breathless monologue: “oh, that’s my sweetie, and i’ll bet he’ll find the gold, and he loves me and everything!”

porky makes his second major (i use that term loosely, since his appearance in i haven’t got a hat wasn’t REALLY a major role but more of an acknowledgement) appearance, this time as a fully grown adult, father to kitty. genetics work in mysterious ways. he fixes himself a giant towering sandwich, including a whole fish, a block of cheese, sausage links, and an entire roasted turkey. sustenance! he scarfs the sandwich down and gives an ecstatic “WWWWHHOOOOPEEEE!!”, a catchphrase of his that thankfully never returned outside of this short. still extremely amusing. as i said before, i don’t find dougherty’s porky “painful” like how some other people find it, but i definitely think this is his most awkward performance, and it’s not even because of his characterization, but the decision not to speed up his voice. dougherty had a very deep voice, and in this cartoon his voice isn’t sped up at all. it’s a bit jarring, but this WAS his second real appearance. tex’s next porky cartoon, the blow out, would have him back as a (much cuter) plucky child.

kitty rushes in and shoves the paper in porky’s face, continuing her breathless babbling. “look what my sweetie’s gonna do! i’m so proud of him! he loves me and everything! he’s gonna find gold and we’re gonna be married! and right this minute, he’s way out in the mountains—“ kitty’s breathless narration continues as we get a shot of the mountains. a long, exposed tunnel goes right through one of the mountains, where we get a distance shot of beans hacking away at a mountain. “and right now he might be discovering gold!”

a closeup reveals beans picking away at the side of the mountain, carving a little hole. just above it are some slots. beans plucks a button from his shirt and feeds it into the makeshift machine, pulling a branch as a lever. he spins, and lands the jackpot. a plethora of gold coins rush out of the slot, beans collecting the loot with his hat. if only it were that easy!

rightfully gleeful, beans cries “gold!gold!” and leaps on his trusty steed. a giant “GOLD!” zooms into view on the screen as beans gallops along on his mule, rushing into town. he bursts into the saloon and declares “i found gold in the gulch, boys! gold in the gulch!”

all of the patrons echo “GOLD?” incredulously, deserting their post at once. even the bartender leaps over the bar, leaving behind some ice cream and other desserts on the counter. a bit of an awkward shot—there’s a still frame of the food on the counter, and you’d expect someone to come in and take the food with them, but that’s not the case. it just sits there and goes onto the next scene. i wonder if there were any cuts, or if didn’t have time, or what. nevertheless, it’s slightly jarring but a menial thing to pick at.

one by one, the patrons leap on their horses and follow beans to his site. a man flops to the ground where his horse rides HIM instead—a regular gag in the looney tunes universe, but one that tex avery seemed to enjoy in particular. can’t blame him.

beans alerts everyone in town—a dog in the bathtub, the dog taking his bathtub with him as he runs, two stereotypical chinese men at the laundromat (yeah, not a good way for tex to start off. just blatantly racist.), and a barbershop quartet singing “sweet adeline” outside of a barbershop, animation by bob clampett. beans alerts them, and the quartet runs off... until they rush right back to finish their song. a great gag as they run right back to find the gold.

next stop, kitty’s house. beans rushes inside and exclaims “i found gold!”, holding kitty by the hands. porky pokes his head out from the kitchen, wielding a fork and spoon, where he repeats “gold?” incredulously. no time is wasted as he jogs right out the door, donning a ten gallon hat and a pick axe. beans excuses himself, kitty refusing to let go. he runs out the door, and kitty reflects on her sweetie. good, snappy timing as beans unexpectedly zooms right back inside, dipping kitty and giving her a rather passionate kiss. he leaves once more as kitty collects herself.

porky has his jalopy all ready to go, and beans jumps right in. porky gives another “WHOOPEE!” as they barrel on. more blatant racism as they pass the chinese men traveling via rickshaw. porky and beans zoom right past them, and a cloud of exhaust cover the men. predictably, they’re now in blackface, talking in a stereotypical accent (as if they weren’t before). obviously, it goes without saying why or how this is disgusting and wrong. i love tex avery as much as the next person, but this isn’t a good start. you’re better than this, tex! it bears mentioning regardless. although we’ll explore a ton of beautiful, great cartoons, we’ll also be examining cartoons that are equally nasty and grotesque. both are important and deserve equal attention.

fade out and back in to the site where beans struck it rich. porky gives another “WHOOPEE!” and strikes his axe into the ground, as do the siamese twins and beans. porky sticks his hand in his hole, where he pulls out a shiny coin and yells “gold!” so far, his dialogue has been three “WHOOPEE!”s and two variations of “gold”. what a complex character! he stores his find in his back pocket for safekeeping. a highly amusing gag as he sticks his hand down again, this time his hand extending through another hole near his pocket. he fishes his hand into his back pocket (unknowingly) and grabs his find, reaching his hand out of the hole and admiring his “new” loot.

the process repeats until beans’ voice stops porky in his tracks. he’s found something. porky tosses a rope down into the cavernous hole that beans is in, and with a few good tugs, beans pops out of the hole, perched on top of a heavy treasure chest.

everyone crowds around as porky and beans lift the chest. inside is a tiny little book, covered in a thick layer of cobwebs that reads “HOW TO FIND GOLD”. beans opens the book, and the answer is right there in the print: “DIG FOR IT”. tex’s strong sense of humor brings the cartoon much needed liveliness and fun. tex was definitely a gag man more than an artist, and he has said so. not that his cartoons are badly drawn at all, but it’s clear he has a priority in humor, which is a great priority to have. porky and beans exchange gobsmacked looks.

enter the villain, creeping along furtively with his horse. he peers through his binoculars, surveying the site. pan past porky and beans scratching their heads over their instructions, past a bag of gold, past a pickaxe... the villain goes back to the bag of gold, exclaiming “ah! gold!” he fires his gun, a wonderfully strange hybrid between a gun, a fishing rod, and a grappling hook. as he fires, a lasso extends down to the gulch, tying conveniently around the bag of loot. the villain reels in his catch—some great added detail as he struggles, as if fighting a big one, and even scooping it up in a net.

porky and beans spot the bandit. porky stutters “if you get that bag for me, you can have my daughter.” beans is delighted and eagerly shakes his hand—it’s a deal. he jumps into porky’s car and rides off, winding up the twists and turns of the mountain as the bandit makes off with his gold. visions of grandeur fill the bandits head as he imagines a long, fanciful, costly limo, a driver touting him around as he chuffs on a fat cigar, donning expensive clothes.

his fantasy is interrupted by gunfire. beans wields duel pistols, firing back and forth at the bandit. bullets reduce the bandit’s hats to shreds, the hat a shadow of its former self as it plops back on the villain’s big head. great contrast. beans continued his fire, shooting a giant hole in the bandit’s pants. a makeshift buttflap falls open, revealing a giant tin pan covering the bandit’s ass for protection. bullets ricochet off the pan, much to the delight of the bandit.

frustrated, beans opts for a rifle instead. a gunfight ensues, and tex avery’s need for speed begins to break out. it’ll climax soon, but tex’s strong point in his cartoons is definitely speed and timing. he can drag out gags or make them ensue in a blink, so much so that those scenes leave you breathless and exhilarated. some great examples that we’ll see are in this, the village smithy, and porky the wrestler. the bandit slings his guns back at beans, his arms whirling around at impossible speeds, so much so that he turns into a literal blur, rising and falling back on his horse.

beans ducks, retaliating. the force of his fire is so strong that his car is propelled back multiple feet with each shot. however, trouble boils when his car stalls out. empty. beans pours a jug of moonshine directly into the engine (instead of the gas tank), and the car explodes to life—parallel to the same scene in you don’t know what you’re doin’! but on steroids. the car turns into a giant blur, stretching out to vaguely resemble a race car. with amazing force, the car barrels into the villain, who is thrown into the air with ease. this is where tex’s speed is magnified and used to a great amount of potential, a potential we haven’t seen yet in a cartoon. it’s exhilarating and breathless, and above all, believable. you feel like you’re right there with them, a must see scene.

the car defies gravity as it speeds along the walls of the caverns, a lovely angle of the car headed straight towards the camera (that would be recycled in one of tex’s cartoons at mgm, dumb-hounded). beans now barrels whence he came, knocking into the villain once more. instead of being propelled into the air, the bandit is dragged into the car, reduced to nothing but a mere blur. around another curve they speed, the loose bag of gold that was thrown into the air with the bandit now landing in the car.

a forlorn porky paces anxiously, awaiting the return of his beloved gold. he, too, is wiped into the chase, again reduced to a mere blur as he falls into the car. the car zips into town, right past kitty, who sweeps outside her house. she’s spun around like a top as the shanghaied racecar whirls past.

finally, the car screeches to a halt. the villain is slumped over inside the car, whereas porky and beans are unharmed. kitty reunites with porky, who lifts her up lovingly. he places her down in front of beans. “well, here’s my daughter!” beans graciously accepts kitty’s hand as he thrusts the bag into porky’s hands, replying “and here’s your gold!”

a lovely twist as porky stutters “gold be derned! that’s my lunch!” sure enough, he stuffs his hands inside the bag and lifts out a giant towering sandwich, identical to the one he scarfed down at the beginning of the cartoon. he gobbles it up with ease, giving a contented smile as we iris out.

whether you love this cartoon or hate it, it’s historical significance can’t be denied. this and i haven’t got a hat are probably the most important cartoons we’ve seen thus far, and the two, in my opinion, rely on each other for success. had friz not created porky, who knows what would have happened in this cartoon. same goes the opposite way. had tex not come aboard and used porky in a suitable role, porky may have continued to exist in cameos, but how far would looney tunes have gotten before inevitably getting canned?

i personally love this cartoon, and is probably my favorite one so far. tex avery was such a pivotal element to the success of looney tunes. albeit this isn’t his most polished work (and the blatant racism with the chinese twins and the blackface gag can’t be overlooked or dismissed), this cartoon is fun, exhilarating, and happy. tex’s sense of humor is on point, and his timing/speed is impeccable. it leaves you wanting more, almost as if you aren’t satisfied. the whole cartoon revolving around porky reuniting with his giant sandwich is another plus. beans is endearing, though bland in personality. kitty is equally endearing, her breathless excitement indescribably amusing and contagious. porky is also amusing, but hardly endearing—but, again, second cartoon, still trying to figure things out. without comparing his appearance here to other cartoons (which is very difficult to do), he fits just fine as the bumbling comic relief character.

this is a major turning point in the world of looney tunes. thanks to tex, cartoons are going to get snappier, funnier, wittier. i may be biased since he’s one of my favorite directors, but it’s hard to argue with, especially since this is the man who made daffy, elmer, bugs. if anything else, i definitely recommend this for historical significance. aside from that, it’s fun, happy, energizing, and a great relief to the drab cartoons we’ve been seeing thus far (though friz deserves much more credit than he gets for his merrie melodies). obviously, express discretion at the racist gag of the chinese twins/blackface—they aren’t too exhausted, but definitely prominent enough to constitute a warning. this is a cartoon worth watching.

link!

#fellas... things are going to get good #lt #gold diggers of ‘49 #reviews #long post #racism m

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softshelltaakos · 5 years

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alright, folks! if you know me you know that i 1) received the taz graphic novel for the holidays and 2) have hated the taz graphic novel since before it came out, and that 3) actually reading it in no way improved my opinion.

let’s review.

disclaimer: i love the mcelroys. i truly do. taz has gotten me through some very difficult stuff and i have a tattoo. all this to say i’m not doing this because i hate them or because i like hating things — on the contrary, i’m doing this because i care a lot about the podcast and analyzing things is what i do for fun and also because, like, it has issues that i want to talk about!

there are spoilers for the graphic novel and the whole of the podcast under the cut.

this is part 1, in which i’m talking about the actual storytelling and writing; for character design thoughts, you’re gonna have to stay tuned because i’ve been working on this for three and a half hours and i have shit to do. so!

let’s start off with the things i actually liked. there are a few!

the main characters get little intro cards, which i think are pretty cute. this isn’t all of them, but here’s a sampling (forgive my messy collaging):

[ID: four panels.

the first introduces magnus burnsides, a barrel-chested white guy with auburn hair and a fluffy beard and sideburns. he’s saying “trust me, if the law hassles us, i’m the guy you want at the front of the wagon. but look, if you want to drive so bad, i might let you spell me the next time the dwarf has to stop for a pee break.” there is a scroll with his name listed, as well as his race (human), class (fighter), and proficiencies: battle, carpentry, and “everything else... apparently”

the second introduces taako, a skinny mint-colored elf wizard. he’s blonde with pronounced lower lashes and a big pointy nose. he’s saying “hell, no! i’ve got stuff to do. i’ve read the books. adventurers are supposed to, like, forage for food and shit. bor-r-r-ring! no, thank you. not for taako.” the proficiencies on his title card are spell-casting, transmutation, and gastronomy

the third introduces merle highchurch, a brown dwarf with white hair pulled back into a bun and a big poofy beard. he’s saying “i’m studying my cantrips!” and his title card proficiencies are “healing... supposedly,” “religion stuff,” and bleeding

the fourth panel introduces griffin mcelroy, a white human man with brown hair and glasses wearing a collared shirt. he’s saying “guys! it’s me: griffin! your dm!” his title card shows his race as “actual human” and his class as “dungeon master,” while his proficiencies are podcasting, karaoke, and “weaving a rich tapestry of drama.”]

then there are a few cute references to other mcelroy stuff:

[ID: two side-by-side images. the first is a photo of justin mcelroy wearing a bib with “shrimpin’ ain’t easy” written on it in crayon. the second is a close-up of a similar bib on a goblin -- though the text is distorted, it’s the same phrase.]

[ID: magnus thoughtfully says “unless...” and the other boys echo him in traditional mcelroy fashion.]

barry also wears underwear that read “meloincloths” around the waistband, which i didn’t take a picture of because it was small and also i didn’t really want to take a picture of barry bluejeans’s underoos. but that’s cute!

as it mentions in magnus’s titlecard, there’s a running joke about him being proficient in everything. that gets some play in the podcast but it comes up a lot more here and i think it works pretty well and establishes early on that magnus is cocky and headstrong and all that. it’s actually introduced in the very first panel of the comic, where he mentions his vehicle proficiency, and then it comes up several more times.

there are some moments that shift out-of-character dialogue to in-character dialogue, and i think it works sometimes. notably, it occasionally happens with griffin’s dialogue, which i think is a good way to include his voice without constantly breaking the fourth wall. it’s done some, obviously, but it’s not to the point that it’s intrusive.

[ID: a panel featuring taako approaching the other boys, who are playing cards while they wait for him to scout the next room out. magnus asks, “would you say it is spooky... or beautiful?” and merle cuts in “or spookily beautiful?” followed by magnus finishing up with “or beautifully spooky?”

taako responds “if you were a gerblin you would actually find it a pretty chill den to, like, hang out in.”]

i also like the introduction of the voidfish static. i think it’s appropriately dramatic and does a pretty good job of emulating how it’s presented in the podcast.

[ID: a panel featuring killian, an orc woman with a crossbow. the lighting is dark gray-blue-green and she’s shouting something unintelligible marked by a cluster of consonants and a shaky, brush-strokey speech bubble distinct from the other speech bubbles stylistically.]

the scene where taako grabs the umbra staff is also appropriately dramatic, as is merle trying to talk down gundren/bogard from the gauntlet’s thrall, but those are full page images and very large, so i’m not including them.

then there’s this panel of lucretia, which slays me:

[ID: a closeup of madame director lucretia, a black woman dressed in blue with white hair, though her eyes are out of frame. she’s holding a white oak staff in her hands. she’s stopped mid-sentence and there’s a little jaggedy line near her head indicating surprise.]

this is lucretia turning around and seeing the boys for the first time since she dropped them off at their respective “homes.” she’s caught off-guard and i think this is a beautiful way of noting that without giving too much away, and this is a good moment of foreshadowing that she knows much, much more about them than she’s letting on. she catches herself quickly and gets back into the swing of things, but i think this is a very lucretia panel, and it’s probably my favorite panel in the book.

now it’s time for the negative.

first off, a nitpick: there are moments where the characterization feels very off -- at one point magnus is said to have been the kid who “always reminded the teacher that they had forgotten to hand out homework,” which... does not really match what we know of young magnus. at all. travis describes him as “a good but kind of rebellious kid, like he was probably kind of a little bit of a turd [...] who was kinda sarcastic” (ep. 60, the stolen century part one) which feels super incongruent with the homework thing.

my issues with characterization come into focus most strongly with taako. while a lot of moments get his voice down pretty well, there’s a major issue in his presentation, which is that from the very beginning, he’s bragging about his tv show.

[ID: several panels in which merle and taako are talking. the first is a wide shot with taako’s voiceover saying: “--and then the lights come up, and there i am, standing under a magnificent banner that reads:”

the second is taako posing under a spotlight, speaking in large, fanciful script: “sizzle it up with taako”

panel three is merle asking disinterestedly “so it’s a show... about cooking?” and taako replying emphatically “it’s about life!”

in panel four he adds “...told through the perspective of fine dining.”

another panel collaged in features a cookbook with taako’s face on it labeled “perfection: cook the taako way” and taako excitedly saying “i know that smell!! that’s my recipe for haunch a la taako!! it was in my very first cookbook!]

now, we all know that by the end of the show “taako -- you know, from tv?” has become a catchphrase of his, and i understand the desire to retcon that kind of thing into his personality from the start. it seems like a natural way to add character early on when in the podcast, the boys are still pretty underdeveloped at this point.

here’s the issue. neither tv nor the title “sizzle it up” are mentioned at any point during here there be gerblins. in the eleventh hour (e48, part 8 of that arc) we’re told that we’re six years out from the mass poisoning in glamour springs. while the maxfun donor bonus episodes, like the liveshows, play it a little bit fast and loose with canon, and this episode was the 2015 bonus episode (e48 didn’t come out until september 2016,) that’s the only real explicit sizzle it up development we have until the eleventh hour. i’ve transcribed some of the bonus episode below, as transcripts for it are not available via @.tazscripts.

justin: taako-- i’m sitting in a corner by myself with my hat sorta pulled down low so people don’t recognize me. and i’m just trying to eat my meal but i keep changing the items that i’m trying to eat into different substances, so every few minutes you hear from my corner of the tavern:

taako: damn it!

clint: i hate asparagus!

griffin: i turned this sandwich into wood!

[...]

justin: mainly, i’m just trying to be nondescript.

[...]

justin: the whole time i’m talking to [the tavern owner] i’m like, keeping my face down so he doesn’t recognize me.

griffin: why would anyone recognize you?

clint: why?

justin: well, taako, uh, used to host a cooking show. it was a very, very, very popular cooking show. uh, and--

griffin: what was it called?

justin: what?

griffin: the show.

justin: sizzle it up with taako.

this episode is when the boys take the job with gundren off of craig’s list, so the time gap between this and episode 1 is negligible at best. there is a moment where the other boys recognize taako and he doesn’t lie about his identity, but:

taako: (begrudgingly) yeah, i’m taako, i’m disgraced, you might have heard about the [poisoning] thing.

so... he’s clearly not putting himself on display the way he does later in the podcast. in episode 40 (lunar interlude III: rest and relaxation) which came out in may of 2016, we get the first reference to the poisoning itself:

taako: one time i transmogrified something that, uh… i transmogrified it into something you really shouldn’t eat, ever? for life, to live, i mean? And, uh, a lot of people ate that. and that went... so sideways. um... i-- i just decided i would never again cook for people i cared about, because i couldn’t risk, um, y’know, something happening to them. until i get this under control, i guess.

so we know that even at that point this is still something that troubles taako greatly. one might even say... he’s traumatized! and doesn’t talk about it! he does not go into detail about sizzle it up with anyone over the entire course of the podcast except for june while she is literally possessed by the chalice and forcing him to relive it. So. kind of a weird character take.

to skip ahead a little bit, most of the moonbase stuff is fine, but there’s one omission that feels very weird to me.

[ID: three panels. the left is a shot of the elevator hallway leading to the voidfish’s chambers. thb follow killian towards the elevators; johann is walking away from them. he’s a black human man with natural hair dressed in a silly bard outfit with a violin strapped to his back. he’s carrying a ton of scrolls.]

these three panels are the only time we see johann in the book. in the podcast it’s johann that escorts them to the voidfish’s chambers and inoculates them. it makes sense that this has been changed to lucretia in the gn; it gives her a much stronger entrance and cuts down on scene changes. but it also cuts out a lot of establishing things about johann that are all extremely important and set up not only his character arc but several core plot points.

it’s during that scene that we hear that johann’s greatest fear is being forgotten, and that that’s exactly what will happen to him and all of the other bureau employees when they die. it’s during that scene that we learn the basic mechanics of the voidfish and the mission of the bureau. it makes sense that some of that is going to be handled at the beginning of the next book (presumably) and i’m glad that lucretia is introduced here, but the gn adjusts it so that killian takes the boys into the elevator. that’s johann in the podcast, and it easily could have been johann here. it would’ve been a good chance to establish at least johann’s fears, which would be a weird and creepy setup for the voidfish mechanics when they do get revealed.

it’s just odd to me that johann, who is the reason for the song half of story and song, gets the short shrift here.

i’m gonna wrap up with one last thing. i wanna talk about arms outstretched.

griffin: and you’re both getting pulled into the rift now, and-- but with a 20, taako, you fight against the pull and both of you are flying backwards towards the center of the room, back towards the catwalk. and merle, you’re standing in front of the two liches, one in the form of magnus and one not. lydia just is there in her spectral form. and you’re standing next to a taako who’s gone completely catatonic.

[...]

griffin: okay, then, m—magnus and taako, you two are flying back towards the center of the room. the pull of this rift is still trying to suck you in. and out of nowhere, just merle turns around—turns his back to the two liches—and just outstretches his arms and as he does, you see, like, spectral versions of his soul-wood arm sort of reach out and grab you and he’s also pulling you back in too, now. and he rips both of you towards himself.

i don’t think it’s a stretch to say that this is one of the most emotionally charged moments in the show, and it’s that because it’s a moment where we see, crystal-clear, real character development and growth.

magnus, who rushes in, who has never wanted anything as much as he wants to be reunited with julia, actively resists the pull of death to help his friends.

taako, who’s good out here, who is so selfish that an entire town died because of his ego, risks his life to help his friends.

merle, who can barely feel his holy connection, who barely ever even heals, breaks planar bounds to help his friends.

we’ve been with these characters for 56 episodes. we’ve seen their worst regrets, we know their tragic backstories, we understand why they’ve been the jackasses they’ve been, and now we see them moving past that to work as a unit. one might even say as a family!

arms outstretched is a moment that has been earned over the course of those 56 episodes.

enter the graphic novel.

[ID: a full page. flames are everywhere and panels are intentionally chaotic. dialogue reads:

merle: maybe now would be good?

magnus: i’m a hero, not an idiot.

taako: actually, you’re both idiots!

he outstretches his arm from his position safe in a well.

taako: come on!

merle and magnus reach for taako’s hands. there is a closeup on their arms: merle and magnus each hold one of taako’s with one hand. then there’s a panel showing an explosion.]

this is obviously intended as a way to foreshadow arms outstretched. and typically i’m not against foreshadowing! i think one of the benefits of the graphic novel is that it’s an opportunity to insert foreshadowing in cool ways that were not necessarily possible given the in-progress nature of the podcast -- like i said earlier, that lucretia panel is a really great example of it. you can’t foreshadow arms outstretched in episode one because you have no idea it’s going to happen.

but here’s the thing. you also can’t foreshadow arms outstretched in episode one because it hasn’t been earned. these characters are not those characters yet. they don’t know each other. taako actively shuts down the title of “friend” earlier in the book. they’re not even coworkers yet. and you could make an argument that in the face of death, taako would try to save them, but... would he? really? he’s a pragmatist, and that’s putting it nicely. during the stolen century the only person he tries to get to safety at the risk of his own neck is lup, and, uh... neither of these guys are lup. hell, he doesn’t even know about lup right now, and we see in the podcast that not remembering her leaves him colder and more self-centered. he knows people are dust, but he doesn’t know there are people that aren’t. i truly don’t buy it.

the nature of adaptation is that things are going to change, and that’s fine; but this is such a major shift that it left me really jarred and unhappy with the writing. in the podcast itself, we get this:

killian: c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon!

clint: decision made.

justin: yeah, i follow her.

travis: i follow her.

clint: me too.

griffin: the three of you dive into the well.

it makes sense that the gn adjusts this slightly so that magnus and merle try to pull some heroics and save everyone; i don’t have a problem with that. that’s a good adaptation of character that hadn’t exactly been seen yet, but comes to be a core enough part of the characters that it makes sense to insert it earlier. but even then, they could’ve gotten to the well without taako’s help. it’s just such a weird rewrite, and i really think it weakens the impact of arms outstretched itself.

i’ve been meaning to get my thoughts on this out for nearly a month at this point so if you’ve stuck with me this whole time, wow! thanks! i appreciate it! i’m not a professional, and obviously the mcelroys signed off on this, so i don’t really have space to say “oh, taako would never do this” or “oh, magnus was never like that” on a canonical level -- i know travis says something along those lines in one of the ttazzes. but as i said at the very beginning: this story means so, so much to me, and it’s really deeply frustrating to see an adaptation that handles things so... weirdly.

#prim.txt #tazposting #tazmeta #NEW TAG BABEY

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killypool · 2 years

Text

open to anyone shipping: open to anyone age: 18 - 40s

born in district 2, wade didn’t need to train for the hunger games. he didn’t need to become a killer. in fact, every step of the way, his mother told him not to. his mother told him again and again that he could chose to be better, chose to do anything but take part in the senseless killing. he never understood her words until he had already won. his father pushed him to train, pushed him to devote his life to earning their family respect and honor.

every day of his childhood and adolescence was spent training. by the time he was given the honor of volunteering, he thought nothing of the horrors of the games, didn’t pay a mind to the killing or the fear or the blood. he thought only of finally earning his father’s favor. of finally being respected by the people around him. of making a name for himself.

from the moment he volunteered to the second the platform raised him up into the arena, wade thought only of the advice he had always learned, the words he took to heart as he trained. the twisting in his stomach and the racing of his heart could be disguised as excitement more than it could be understood as fear. he stood proud in the chariot, carried himself tall as the 24 teens trained and studied for the test ahead. he was confident as he took his seat beside ceasar, his interview one of the most talked about of the tributes that year.

i tell you, flickerman. ceasar, can i call you ceasar? i’m worried - just been worried sick. i’ve been terrified since the games last year. white jumpsuits. not even off-white, not even beige. but white jumpsuits. do you think the designers this year picked something more stylish? i think i’d like red - none of the other tributes deserve to get to watch me bleed.

the bloodbath was tense and frantic, but wade wasn’t scared - not yet. he had the other careers beside him, blessed with an alliance before the first blood was even shed. quick to choose a pair of gorgeous katanas as his weapon of choice, wade already had his targets thought out. the in betweens. the 15 and 16 and 17 year olds strong enough to pose a threat. no matter how easy they’d be to pick off, wade had no interest in killing off the youngest and the weakest.

gifts from sponsors were plentiful in the first few days, extra food and extra firestarters. there was enough to keep all of them comfortable for days. but on the fourth night, wade sliced the throats of all of the other careers - including the girl from his own district. the rest of the games passed in a blur as wade taunted each of the other tributes until he was finally the last standing. but as he was taken back to the capitol, he didn’t feel the pride he thought he would. his thoughts turned to those of the tributes, of the life left ahead of him. there was no greater honor to be won. there was nothing fulfilling for him to strive for. at 18, wade was a murderer and a coward.

by the time he came back home, his mother had passed, succumbing to her illness - or so wade was told. angry with his father and devastated by the loss of his mother, wade framed his father for treason against the capitol, sentencing his only remaining family member to a life as a prisoner. struggling to cope with life as a victor, wade embraced life as a possession of the capitol, sold between men and women alike as a toy.

it takes time for him to catch onto the idea of a revolution, so caught up in what he thought the world was limited to that he never imagined the world could change for the better. by the time the 75th games are cut short and the revolution begins, wade freely joins the resistance, traveling to district 13 to try to make up for the sins of his past.

it’s at the end of the revolution that wade is injured, close to burned alive by explosions, but he survives, though he’s unrecognizable. the joy he feels for the safety of their nation is clouded by his own mourning of his looks, of his comfort. panem is a new country now, and he - for better or for worst - is a new, more broken man.

#( 🦄 ) the real tragedy is the capitol’s dress code. ( *HUNGER GAMES VERSE )#( 🦄 ) since you’re too lazy to read a wiki page. ( *VERSE DROP )#death //#child death //#hunger games //

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tripsterguru · 4 years

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What to see in Baku in 1 day - 18 most interesting places

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What to see in Baku in 1 day - 18 most interesting places

Baku, preserving traditions, confidently looks to the future and, changing its appearance with each new era, carefully preserves the heritage of past centuries. Modern architecture here is harmoniously combined with medieval fortresses and towers, ancient mosques – with cutting-edge concert halls, and oriental flavor – with the latest Western trends. Go to the capital of the Land of Lights, and we will tell you what to see in Baku for 1 day on your own, in order to fall in love with him forever and be sure to return.

How to get from the airport to the center

From G. Ailiev Airport, the center can be reached in various ways. Shuttle H1 goes directly to the center. You can buy a ticket for it at the exit from the terminal building in the machine. The ticket costs 90 cents, the journey takes approximately 40 minutes.

Another way is to use the city bus of route 116. He leaves from the airport and goes directly to the center with an interval of 30 minutes. Without traffic jams, the travel time is 1 hour. A ticket costs 20 cents, the driver sells them.

If you do not want to use public transport, you can take a taxi. Book it better in advance using any of the online taxi services. The trip will cost about $ 25 or more, depending on the class of car, and take 35 minutes.

Workshop Ali Shamsi

In the Old Town, on Kichik Kala Street (Malaya Krepostnaya), an unusual house will surely attract your attention. Its facade is hung with many amulets, signs and symbols, decorated with installations depicting a huge lion with unusual eyes, aliens, native oilmen. Opposite the tree grows, the trunk of which is painted with three female faces. Tourists always gather around it to take pictures. In front of the house, two artistic brushes “grow” directly from the ground.

This is the workshop of the famous Baku artist Ali Shamsi. He himself can also be found next to the house. The artist often works in the studio and invites everyone to visit his house with pleasure. Inside the house is no less interesting than outside. There are two rooms in the workshop. The first houses art objects collected by the master, brought by him from other countries or collected here in his homeland, including during excavations in the Old Town.

Subscribe to our channel in Telegram, where we daily post the most last-minute tours and flights. And in the second – the work of the artist himself. Most of them are dedicated to the nature of Azerbaijan, their hometown and, of course, women. He paints flowers, the sea, mountains, portraits of beautiful women – everything that he loves and does not get tired of admiring. His paintings, bright, joyful, very kind, will certainly find a response in your heart. The workshop is located at: Icheri Sheher, st. Kichik Kala, 84.

Museum of miniature books

On April 23, 2002, a unique museum was opened in the Old Town, not far from the Maiden’s Tower, which has no analogues anywhere in the world — it is a Museum of Miniature Books. Here are the smallest books in the world. These are rare editions of Russian classics, Azerbaijani poets and writers (including the great oriental poets – Nizami and Fizuli), books published during the Soviet years in different republics of the Soviet Union and in Europe. There is even a miniature edition of “Criminal Jokes” by Yu. Nikulin.

The exposition presents not only fiction, but also philosophical and spiritual books – for example, miniature Bible and Quran. And in contrast to them – the collected works of V. Lenin. Zarif Salakhov, the sister of the artist Tahir Salakhov, began to collect her collection many years ago, in the Soviet years. And this she began with a collection of fables by I. A. Krylov, published back in 1835.

The museum’s most valuable exhibit is one of the smallest books in the world. Its dimensions are 2 x 2 mm, but at the same time the book contains not only text, but also illustrations. True, to make out them, as well as read its contents, is possible only with the help of a magnifying glass. The museum is open every day, except Monday and Thursday from 11 to 17 hours. Free admission.

Governor’s Garden

The Governor’s Garden is the oldest in the city. It was laid back in 1830. By the decree of Roman von der Hoven, commandant of the Baku fortress, all ship owners and their captains had to bring several bags of black soil from the south so that even crops that do not like the arid climate could be grown. They planted acacia, mulberry, conifers, broke flower beds, and some exotic plants.

The result was a unique garden in which even rare, including subtropical, plants grew. It began at the walls of Icheri Sheher, and when in 1865 the outer wall of the fortress was removed, the garden expanded significantly. For a long time it was the only garden in the city. For ordinary people, entry here was allowed only once a week.

By the end of the 19th century, arbors and terraces for relaxation appeared in the park. The garden was renamed many times, it bore the names of Mikhailovsky, Revolution, im. Aliaga Wahid, but the old name – Gubernatorial – has taken root best of all. Now adjacent to the garden adjacent to the building of the Philharmonic. M. Magomayev, therefore, it is often called the garden of the Philharmonic. It stretches along the fortress wall from Azneft Avenue to the Icheri Sheher metro station.

Kichik-Gala Street, 8 – place from the movie “Diamond Hand”

In our country, the old city is familiar to everyone, even to a person who has never been to the Azerbaijani capital. Legendary Soviet films were shot here: Aibolit 66, Tehran 43, Do not be afraid, I’m with you. But, of course, the most recognizable views of Icheri Sheher are in frames from the films Amphibian Man and The Diamond Arm. Almost all overseas in the film “Diamond Arm” was shot in the Old Town. Soviet Baku at the time of filming becomes Istanbul.

Walking through the narrow streets of Icheri Sheher, you will surely find out where the sultry beauty is trying to seduce Semyon Semenych (“Tsigel, tsigel ai-lu-lu!”), You will see the walls of the Shirvanshahs Palace, against which Soviet tourists are given an excursion. And of course, no one can pass by the famous place next to the Chikanuk pharmacy, in which the main character was smuggled in plaster.

Tourists here are photographed in the same pose and with the famous phrase “Cheort beat!”. The exact address of this place is Kichik Kala, 8 (Malaya Krepostnaya, 8). Of course, now there is not a pharmacy, but an ordinary courtyard of a residential building with its measured life. To find this place, you can navigate by the nearby Thunder cafe at the intersection with Veli Mammadova Street.

Shamakhi Gate

Icheri Sheher (Old Town) is not a millet a piece of the preserved ancient city. This is a unique architectural reserve, protected by UNESCO. The fortress with 25 towers and 5 gates rises above the sea and is surrounded on all sides by strong stone walls up to 8 m high, and their thickness reaches 3 m. Today you can get to the Old Town through the Shemakha Gate. For a long time they were practically the only gates of the fortress. In another way they were called the gates of Shah Abbas.

Once in the fortress there were two tiers of defensive walls. In the XIX century, when the city grew significantly and went far beyond the borders of Icheri Sheher, the governor proposed to remove the inner walls. In 1886 a decision was made, the wall was demolished, and the gates of the inner walls, called the Gate of Zulfikar (named after the shah who erected the inner walls), were moved to the Shemakhinsky.

As a result, the gates now have two arches and are often called the Twin Gates. Through the Shemakha gate you can enter the Old Town by car. But at the entrance you will need to pay 2 manat, and for each next hour to pay 1 manat.

Maiden’s Tower

In the southeast of Icheri Sheher the famous Maiden Tower (Giz Galasy) rises, which has long become a symbol of the city. The thickness of its walls at the base is 5 m, and at the top 4 m. The height of the tower is 28 m. It is divided into 8 tiers, a spiral staircase leads to the very top. In the tower itself in the rock a well is arranged, 21 m deep. For what this tower was erected, historians still argue. According to many, it did not have a defensive function, but rather a cult function, associated with pagan times and, in particular, with worship of the Sun. The time of its construction, too, until the end is still unknown.

According to archaeologists who investigated the mortar and masonry, it could be built in the 1st century. or in the IX century. For a long time the tower served as a lighthouse. Until the 19th century, a flag fluttered at its top, which served as a guide for sailors, and from the middle of the 19th century the lighthouse began to shine. There are many legends associated with the tower. The heroine of each of them is necessarily a girl who, because of unhappy love, rushes from a tower into the sea and smashes into stones.

One of the stones in the sea at the foot of the tower is still called the stone of the virgin. This plot inspired many poets and artists to create their own works related to the legends of the Maiden Tower. Her image has become a symbol of the city. Now there is a museum in the tower, and at the very top there is an observation deck from where you can see the city. The museum is open every day, except Mondays from 10:00 to 18:00. A ticket costs 2 manat.

Shirvanshahs Palace

The Shirvanshahs palace ensemble is the former residence of the Shirvan shahs, a unique architectural and historical monument that was built over several centuries from the 13th to the 16th centuries. It is located on a hilltop in the center of Icheri Sheher fortress (Old Town). In addition to the rulers’ palace itself, the complex includes a tomb, a bathhouse, a mosque of the 15th century, a mausoleum of a Baku scientist Seyid Yahya Bakuvi and a courtyard Divan Khan. Despite the fact that the entire complex was not built at the same time, it is a complete, harmonious ensemble, designed in unified architectural forms and combinations of decorative elements.

Spiral staircases and the main hall are preserved in the palace, which now presents an exposition consisting of archaeological excavations – dishes, jewelry, household items, musical instruments, weapons and the famous Shemakha carpets. Household items can be considered in the remaining 52 chambers of the palace. In the courtyard – Divan Khan – there is an octagonal rotunda with columns. Her appointment is still unknown.

It is assumed that this could be the tomb or the building in which the state council was sitting. The mausoleum of Seyyid Yahya Bakuvi, the scientist who worked here under the rule of the Shirvanshah Khalil-ulla I, was connected with an arch to the old Kay-Kubad mosque, which burned down in 1918 year. In the tomb, the remains of tombstones and 14 crypts of members of the Shirvanshah Khalil-Ulla family were preserved. The complex is located in Ichera Sheher, in Palace Lane, it is open daily from 10:00 to 18:00. An adult ticket costs 2 manat, For students – 60 qepiks (kopecks), for students – 20 qepiks.

Monument to the poet Aliaga Wahid

Aliaga Vahid (Aliaga Mammadkul-oglu Iskander) – Azerbaijani poet, satirist, friend of Sergei Yesenin. Very popular among the people were not only his satirical poems, but also lyrical gazelles. A very unusual monument to the poet stands in the Azerbaijani capital in Icheri Shaher (Old Town) on Kichik Kala Street (Malaya Krepostnaya). Its authors are sculptors Rahib Hasanov and Natik Aliyev.

The monument is the poet’s huge head, which grows directly from the ground – his neck, torso and hair represent the trunk and branches of trees and at the same time the interweaving of human bodies. The monument is very interesting to consider – all the cycles of our life are presented here: birth, love, separation, wedding, funeral. According to the sculptors, all our ideas live in our heads, they decided to “pull” them out.

The monument was opened on October 27, 1990. It was built almost entirely at the expense of ordinary people, admirers of the talent of Aliaga Wahid. The idea to perpetuate the image of the poet belongs to the architect, journalist and writer Arif Mansurov. He also sponsored the installation of the monument.

Market Square

One of the oldest places in the city, Market Square, has always been indicated on ancient maps, but was discovered as a result of excavations in Ichera Sheher only in 1964. Once there was a large eastern bazaar. Gradually, the square began to carry not only trade functions, but also was the center of political and public life. Here the most important decrees of the rulers were read, court hearings were held and their decisions were announced.

However, during one of the enemy attacks, the square was destroyed. After that, it was no longer used for its intended purpose and eventually was used as a cemetery. Here archaeologists found 52 graves. On the top of the hill, under which the market square was buried, the townspeople gradually began to build houses. After archaeologists discovered and examined it, the area was cleared and landscaped. Archaeologists and restorers completely liberated it, restored the arcade, which rests on stone columns with a capital.

Mohammed Mosque

In Icheri Sheher there is also another iconic structure – the mosque of Mohammed, or the Son of Kala, which translates as a broken fortress or tower. The mosque was erected in the XI century. Here, the date of construction of the mosque was even preserved. An inscription on one of the walls says that the mosque was built by ustad-rais Muhammad, the son of Abu Bekr in 471 (approximately in 1079). It was built on the site of an even more ancient structure.

During the assault on the city by the Russian fleet in 1723, shelling of the Icheri Sheher fortress was carried out. One of the shells damaged the tower of the minaret. At that very moment a strong wind rose and carried the ships back. Defenders of the city regarded this as a sign of God. For a very long time the tower was not restored, it became a symbol of resistance and then it got its second name. The minaret is adjacent to the main building of the mosque. Its upper part was restored only in the 19th century.

Haji Gaib’s Bath

As in any eastern city, there are many baths. In the East, a hamam is not just a place intended for hygienic procedures, a visit to the bath was accompanied by a special ritual. And here they often gathered for negotiations and transactions. The bath of Haji Gaib was built in the 15th century in a very convenient location. Trade routes crossed here, and merchants from different countries gathered for ablution and business negotiations. Archaeologists discovered hammam only in the 60s of the last century.

Today, the bath of Haji Gaib, of course, is no longer used for its intended purpose. But tourists can see what a traditional hamam building was like in the Middle Ages. It consists of three rooms. The dressing room has rectangular shapes, and then follows a large central hall in the form of an octagon. It housed two pools with hot and cold water.

Under the stone tile floor, steam passed through the canals, which heated the room. Ceramic pipes also served for this. In the third room, in the locker room, they had tea after bathing, negotiations were held here, cheerful conversations and deals were made. Haji Gaib’s bathhouse is easy to find, it is located next to the Maiden’s Tower, on 5 Boyuk Kala Street.

Park “Little Venice”

Seaside Boulevard is one of the most beloved places in the city not only for tourists, but also for the Baku people themselves. Here, back in 1960, a park was built, which is a network of islands and channels connecting them. It was called Baku Venice, or Lesser Venice. In the post-Soviet years, over time, this park became desolate. Restored it and upgraded only in 2011.

Now cafes and restaurants have opened along the banks of the canals. Here appeared small green areas, flower beds, fountains and openwork bridges. On the channels of tourists carry gondolas. Special marinas were equipped for them. The length of all channels of Little Venice is 1350 m, and the depth is 1.3 m.

Azerbaijan Carpet Museum

In 1967, the National Carpet Museum was opened in the building of the Juma Mosque in Icheri Sheher. In 1992, the mosque was returned to believers, and for some time the museum’s exposition moved to the Museum Center. From 2008 to 2014, the construction of a new museum building was in progress. In August 2014, its grand opening took place. The shape of the building resembles a rolled up huge rug.

The museum has a large collection of not only carpets, but also ceramics, metal products, jewelry, national clothes and embroidery. The most valuable exhibits are a fragment of the Tabriz carpet and the 18th-century carpet “Hila Afshan”. The museum presents carpets from all regions of the country, you can see the most diverse embodiment of traditional national ornaments.

The museum has its own training center where you can learn about the main schools of carpet weaving, their features, the history of the emergence and development of this type of decorative art in Azerbaijan. The museum is located on 28 M. Useynova Avenue. It is open every day except Monday from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., but the entrance for visitors starts and ends one hour earlier. Adult ticket costs 7 manats, for pupils and students – 3 manats

Funicular

In any city built on the hills, a funicular is a must. In Baku, the first lift appeared in 1960. By the Eurovision in 2012, it was not just repaired, but completely modernized: the old cabs were replaced with new, modern ones, which operate completely silently. Now from the Bahram Gur station to the Flaming Towers can be reached in just 4 minutes. And this way only 1 minute passes through the tunnel, and the rest of the time – along the hills of the Green Theater, covered with coniferous trees.

The trailer overlooks the Caspian Sea, towers and green slopes. In the evenings you can see fantastic panoramas of the city flooded with lights, glowing oil derricks and lights in the sea. A staircase also runs along the paths – in order to return to the embankment it is not necessary to use the funicular again, you can go down on foot.

The funicular is located near the Icheri Sheher metro station. It works every day except Monday from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. The fare is 1 manat one way. Payment is only for cash. The cars depart every 10 minutes.

Flaming towers

Since Zoroastrian times, Azerbaijan has been called the Land of Fires and the place of storage of the sacred fire. And the matter is not only in the oil and gas rich bowels of this land. This fire burns in the heart of every resident of this hospitable country. This is exactly what the creators of the modern architectural ensemble Flame Towers – Flaming (Burning) Towers – tried to embody in their work.

These are three tall buildings shaped like flames. The towers are considered the tallest buildings in Azerbaijan and are visible from all over the capital. When the lights turn on in the evenings in the towers, the lights turn on, and the movement of fire is shown on the monitors, from afar it seems that a fire is really blazing in the distance. They built towers for 5 years.

All buildings have different heights. The tallest tower is 190 m, the rest are 140 and 160. The towers house offices and accommodations, as well as the Fairmont Baku at the Flame Towers Hotel. It is most convenient to get to the towers from the Icheri Sheher metro station on the city funicular. It is best to view them from the waterfront.

Ferris wheel

The wheel makes a full revolution at different times – from 10 to 30 minutes, because the landing takes place in 5 booths at a time. Therefore, sometimes the wheel freezes and freezes while moving – do not be afraid, after a while it will continue to move. The cabins are completely closed, air conditioners work in them, a video showing the construction of the wheel is shown on the monitor, information about the height at which it is located and the temperature “overboard” appears.

The wheel is located at the end of Primorsky Boulevard, on Neftyanikov Avenue, next to the National Flag Square. It works every day from 10:00 to 23:00. A ticket costs 5 manat, for children under 6 years old – free of charge, from 6 to 12 years old – 3 manat.

Baku “Crystal Hall”

When the duet Ell & Nikki from Azerbaijan won the Eurovision Song Contest in 2011, the country began to prepare to host the festival. For this, in less than a year, a new concert hall was built. For its unique form, this concert venue was called the Crystal Hall, or Crystal Hall. The external building of the hall consists of light metal structures.

They have built a huge number of LED bulbs. With the onset of dusk, the hall begins to glow with multi-colored lights. Thanks to special spotlights, thin strings-rays stretch out from the roof of the arena, which are clearly visible from all over the city. The hall seats up to 27 thousand spectators. Its equipment allows you to realize any visual intentions.

After Eurovision, the hall remained operational. World stars (Rihanna, Shakira, D. Lopez, etc.) often perform here, events are held as part of major sports competitions, for example, the 1st European Games, the Chess Olympiad. The hall is located on National Flag Square, next to the Icheri Sheher metro station.

#Crystal Hall #Little Venice #8 - place from the movie “Diamond Hand”#Azerbaijan Carpet Museum #Baku #Baku Market Square #Flaming towers #Governor's Garden #Haji Gaib's Bath #Kichik-Gala Street #Maiden's Tower #Mohammed Mosque #Monument to the poet Aliaga Wahid #Museum of miniature books #Park #Shamakhi Gate #Shirvanshahs Palace #Workshop Ali Shamsi

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arnoldszmidt-blog · 4 years

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So fasten your seat belts

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thespookydoor · 6 years

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Journey Into Darkness 2

This was a dream I had earlier one summer, and back then it lingered with me a lot, just because of all the creepy and disturbing things it alluded to, and that feeling I’ve had several times in my life, as if I had taken a brief, but eventful, jaunt through someone else’s nightmare: …It starts out innocently enough, with me hanging out with some old friends at some mall or entertainment district. We’re at some weirdly-arranged, multi-level theater, having just finished watching one movie, and trying to decide what to see next. Hallways, ramps and stairways, interspersed with displays and animatronic cartoon animals, even a video arcade, like some children’s theme park, with only vague signs pointing the way, and somehow I get separated from everyone else, despite having just boasted of knowing my way around the place better than any of the others. After going up a couple flights of stairs, I find myself at this closed-up gift shop. It’s dark, and everything’s turned off, an entire inventory of items gathering dust on the shelves, yet for some reason, the door is wide open, so I wander in, most likely drawn by my own curiosity. It appeared to have been connected in some way with the theater and the other stuff, yet something about its atmosphere goes from forlorn to unsettling the farther back I explore. It’s not just that everything’s dusty and neglected, it’s a feeling of walking through some predator’s territory and into its lair. At first, it would be hard to describe, as there are no outward signs, just the sense of the place somehow becoming seedier, weedier, a vibe hinting at a history of decadence that feels jarringly out of place with what a kiddy-themed store is supposed to be about. It’s in the dingy back rooms that things take a turn for the ugly, starting with a desk calendar. You know the type— scantily clad girls, usually posing on or in front of cars— commonplace among auto mechanics, plumbers and other mostly middle-age male occupations, only the bound poses displayed in these ones would surely never pass muster with even the most lax “family friendly” workplace. Looking for all the world as if sicko decided to make a bunch of concentration camp victims pose for these ones. Followed by stuffed mascot animals hanging from nooses, or dismembered and lying in piles of their own stuffing in the corners, broken bottles, and mysterious dark stains my eyes refuse to linger on. By now, I’m not even sure why I’m venturing further into this den of depravity whose demented history already seems to be seeping into my mind, as if every corner of this place is desperately screaming of the wrongness visited upon it, both as a warning, and, I think, a cry for help of sorts. The shop itself is on the second or third storey of the place, with a big bank of windows overlooking the interior of what looks like some kind of museum or gallery, with various displays spread across the floor. There is an open stairway leading up, with both the beginning and the first landing marked with “CLOSED” signs hanging on chains across the steps, but hearing a commotion upstairs, I skip over them and go up. Above the shop, I find what seems to be a combination of business offices and personal quarters, all of it occupied by a group of sinister men in business suits, who appear to be having some sort of secret “party” here, unbeknownst to the rest of the mall/park proper. All around this level, I see evidence of drugs, torture, and other mayhem that I somehow already know has been concealed from the public here for a long time, almost certainly by someone on the inside of this company. With a strong hint of “No Witnesses” by the end of each gathering. I don’t know how else to describe these Bad Business men as anything less than slimy, degenerate Good Ol’ Boy types, and somehow their “guests of honor” have gotten out of their rooms, a group of young women who look like they seriously want to be anywhere else right about now, and are being chased around by their “hosts” with a total lack of festive pretense. The next part is a blur of violence, blocking doors, using objects as improvised weapons, and just generally taking the fight back to these monsters any which way I can. Holding them off by any means I can muster, hoping any of the captives might escape from this splintering of separate, desperate struggles throughout the level. At this point, the camera changes focus, following a young woman as she makes it to the stairs I came up earlier, one of the Good Ol’ Boys in hot pursuit, cussing and screaming that she can’t be allowed to get out, no matter what. But she completely eludes him by jumping off the landing and onto a bi-plane hanging on display in the gallery floor below, dropping onto a car display, then to the floor, making it to the entrance before her pursuer can get very far past the stairs. She then runs down the street, the other guy quickly giving up the pursuit once she got outside, apparently not wanting to draw attention to himself. From the there, the dream skips a bit, and when she turns up again, she’s working an under-the-table job as a bike messenger. Hair dyed, bike helmet, dark glasses. Not wanting to go back to her family or friends, for fear of some apparently very scary folks going to very scary lengths to keep their dirty secrets. Too afraid of going to the authorities against some very powerful and entrenched people without any proof. At one point, she meets an older lady, a friend of the family, who recognizes her, and she very curtly tries to cut the conversation short at every turn, even as the lady keeps asking her if she needs help, desperate to not have anyone she cares about possibly be seen with her, such are the kind of predators she’s hiding from. She finally loses the other lady, heading back out onto the street to continue what amounts to a ceaseless flight, never staying in the same place for long, when things take a turn for the worst. And the weird. It’s creepy, trying to describe what she runs into, so perhaps it’s best to simply go for the direct approach. Having passed into a run-down neighborhood, after dark, she spots two figures sitting on a park bench, sharing a 40 ounce brown bag of something. The first is troubling, yet hardly out of place in this setting, a very shifty police officer, whose reputation is surely as tarnished as his badge, and feels like bad news at first sight. Yet it’s the second figure that quickly grabs her attention, as he seems completely out of place anywhere humans claim to be even remotely civilized. Tattered, rotting dress suit, on a lanky scarecrow frame, claw-like hands… And a big, squat pumpkin head. His face a blazing, flickering— and, most unsettling of all, animated— Jack-O-Lantern, moving and shifting like some warped animatronic come to life. Although I pick up no specific details of their conversation, the two of them seem to a be having a crass, callous laugh about something, I suspect, past exploits above that closed-down gift shop, as if the atrocities there were their chief form of amusement, while the girl tries to walk away as if she hadn’t see him. But he has, and calls out to her, gesturing for the crooked cop to scoot over and let her sit between them, making it more than obvious that he knows who she is. When she backs away, he laughs, telling her something along the lines of “We’re not gonna do anything to you here,” but she still wisely keeps her distance even as he talks and acts like her experience in that building was a fun getaway or something. During this brief exchange, he seems to make no great secret that he’s the one who organized the “parties” up in that building, apparently finding no shortage of sleazy characters willing to pay for his services, and that the company that runs the place is too scared to confront him directly about any of it. As if he is not only above the law, but as if he is somehow beyond the reach of any of its agents, as well, speaking openly of matters most criminals who’ve done only a slice of his deeds would dare to say aloud at risk of being recorded. Yet still suggesting that she’s a “loose end” his boys need to tie up, lest things get complicated. After that tense confrontation, the girl flees again, the monstrous creature on the bench laughing at her in the distance, assuring her in an encouraging tone that she can only run so far… …That’s the last part I remember before I woke up. I’m not sure what lingers with me more, that creepy abandoned store, with all its sordid goings-on, or the creature on that bench, as he seemed to be a being of unfathomable depravity, a sadistic mind so warped, it has passed the limits of even the most demented human beings. There were depths of insanity flickering inside that pumpkin head that seemed to burn away at the minds of anyone who looked upon that fiery visage for very long. The whole thing felt skewed, as if I was being exposed to someone else’s fears, dreads, and terrors. More than anything, a sense of relief that he himself wasn’t present at the time when I helped that girl escape, because that wasn’t one of those dreams where I have super-powers and could bash that pumpkin skull of his in like someone should have done to him a long time ago, it was one of those rough, desperate, visceral dreams, where, rather than an action-adventure mode, here I was fighting for my own life right alongside those captives. Weirdly enough, I wasn’t terribly worried for myself after I woke up, and seeing as how I’m still alive and awake and dreaming about other things in the meantime, I think it’s safe to say that I managed to escape from the whole mess okay on my end. Still, I’m haunted by the inconclusive ending, and the feeling that whatever was going on in that twisted place continues unchallenged, while she decides what to do next. Although the whole bicycle messenger thing reminded me a little of Witch Hunter Robin, as for the girl herself, I can’t help thinking of Heather from Silent Hill 3, especially that feeling of being stuck with that no-win choice between running from the past forever, or risking everything to take back her life. -11/23/10

#jack o lantern #witch hunter robin #silent hill 3 #good ol boys #run for your life #theme park #bike messenger #heather morris #cheryl mason #sick and wrong #journey into darkness #biplane #someone else's nightmare #nightmare #someone else's fear #nightmares and dreamscapes #silent hill

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itsjaybullme · 7 years

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Dexter's Secrets

Dexter Jackson's greatness is a given, even as time marches on and younger competitors rise and fall. His beard is gray, his face is lined, but his physique refuses to age. In an effort to discover his secrets, we examine what makes the Blade so phenomenal, from A to Z.

A IS FOR ARNOLD CLASSIC

No competitor is more associated with a contest than the Blade is with the Arnold. He holds every significant record: most wins (5), most entries (15), most top-five finishes (14). In addition, he’s won the Arnold Classic Australia and Arnold Classic Europe. With all due respect to the contest’s namesake, Jackson owns the A.C. (all stats are as of July 2016).

B IS FOR BICEPS

He has two of the highest-caliber guns ever flexed on a stage, but if you’re looking for the key to bulbous biceps here, the secret is there is no secret. He does the same things most every other bodybuilder does for moderate volume and moderate reps. A typical routine consists of EZ-bar preacher curls, seated alternate dumbbell curls, and one-arm machine curls, all for four sets of 8-10 reps. “There are a lot of different ways to do a curl with free weights and machines,” he says.

C IS FOR CHARLES GLASS

Around the time he turned 41 at the end of 2010, when it seemed his physique might actually be fading, Jackson enlisted trainer Charles Glass, even though it meant “commuting” from Florida to California. Glass, a master of hitting all the angles with modified exercises, has been Jackson’s trainer ever since, proving you can teach an old dog new tricks.

D IS FOR DELTOIDS

At first glance, his shoulder routine seems elementary: an overhead press, a front raise, a lateral raise, and a rear lateral, four sets of each, 10-15 reps per set. What makes it unique is Glass and his bag of tricks. The master trainer is liable to come up with things like a one-arm Smith machine overhead press (sitting perpendicular to the bar) and an underhand EZ-bar front raise. The parameters stay the same, but even Jackson is surprised by the particulars of each workout.

E IS FOR EATING

This is the part he doesn’t like—all those monotonous meals. “I’m not naturally a big eater,” he states. “When I retire, I’ll eat like a normal person and weigh less than 200 pounds.” For now, though, eating is a big part of his job. He makes the most of it by spicing up his off-season meals with things like mashed potatoes, turkey bacon, buttered lobster, and steak smothered in sauce. However, when the Blade brings out the cuts during his contest prep, he turns to the diet staples—tilapia, chicken breasts, and sauce-free steak.

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F IS FOR FORTIES

After reaching the big 4-0, Ronnie Coleman won two Olympias (at 40 and 41) and was second in another (42), Chris Dickerson was runner-up twice (41, 42) before winning (43) and he won nine other pro shows, and Albert Beckles was second in the O (47) and won eight pro shows, the final one at 51. The Blade certainly has stiff competition, but with a second at the Olympia (45); two Arnold Classic titles (43, 45); and 10 other pro victories, his sustained excellence gives him the edge over Dickerson as the best over-40 bodybuilder of all time. And, as his New York Pro win in May (46) proves, he’s still on point.

G IS FOR GALE ELIE

This former figure competitor is Dexter’s longtime girlfriend.

H IS FOR HIGH DEFINITION

He’s been around so long it’s difficult to remember what he looked like more than a decade ago. Even his 2008 Mr. Olympia shape was not him in his peeled prime. He simply got too big to go ultra-HD. But from 1999-2006, he was consistently the crispest conditioned bodybuilder in pro contests. His waist was nearly invisible, and he sported deep detailing in even his lower back. In 1999, contest promoter Ed Pariso bestowed on him one of bodybuilding’s most iconic nicknames, “the Blade,” because he always delivered the cuts.

I IS FOR INJURIES

The Blade’s remarkable longevity has only been possible because he’s avoided trauma. “I don’t do all those crazy, heavy, compound movements that I did when I was younger,” he says. “As I got older I changed my training. Guys like Ronnie [Coleman] and Dorian [Yates] kind of fell apart at the end because they didn’t change their training. I do more isolation and machine exercises now. It works for me, as long as I train hard with good form.”

J IS FOR JACKSONVILLE

Appropriately, Jackson was born in this Florida city and still calls it home. Former IFBB Pro League bodybuilders Lee Labrada, Don Long, and Lee Banks also live here.”

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K IS FOR KNOWLEDGE

The fact that the Blade, at 41 and with a Sandow on his mantel, turned his workouts over to Charles Glass speaks volumes on his willingness to learn. Even in his 18th pro year, he is continually accumulating knowledge on workout techniques, nutrition, and how his body responds to exercises and foods.

L IS FOR LEGS

In his amateur days, Jackson’s legs lagged. He brought his quads up enough to rack up Arnold wins and a Sandow, but they were withering when he started working with Glass. With middle-age knees and hips, it becomes increasingly difficult to hoist enough heavy metal to maintain leg mass. But, through hard work and precise training, the Blade has made additions. Forget free-weight squats. He focuses on one-leg presses, superslow hack squats, and supersetting Smith machine front squats and leg extensions.

M IS FOR MOST MUSCULAR

At a generous 235, Jackson is the lightest winner of the Mr. Olympia over the past 32 years, but unlike most giant killers he didn’t slay Goliaths by playing “small ball” and wowing with aesthetics. His best pose is the one most associated with mass monsters: the crab-style most muscular. Because of the incredible density in his arms, delts, traps, and pecs, he’s able to hold his own in comparisons with giants.

N IS FOR NORTH AMERICA

After a light-heavy sixth at the 1996 Nationals, Jackson put his all into one final attempt to turn pro—the 1998 North Americans. With an outrageous V-taper and much-improved legs, the 28-year-old won the light-heavy and overall titles. “I had my family sleeping on the floor, and my girlfriend at the time was working two and three jobs so I could stay home, watch the kids, and train,” he remembers. “Had I not turned pro, I was done.”

O IS FOR OLYMPIA

It takes most winners only two or three tries. Jay Cutler won on his sixth try, but he’d been second four times. This was Jackson’s ninth Olympia, and he’d never previously been runner-up. Even he didn’t envision himself as the world’s best bodybuilder. But at 38, he bested Cutler to win the 2008 Mr. Olympia. “Mr. Olympia. Come on, that’s crazy,” he said afterward.

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P IS FOR PECTORALS

Jackson has long maintained one of the best chests in bodybuilding. He built it with the barbell and dumbbell standards, including plenty of bench pressing. Today, a typical routine consists of Smith machine incline presses, a seated machine press, incline flyes, and pec-deck flyes.

Q IS FOR QUALITY

His workouts might include a few forced reps and perhaps some super-sets, but mostly he performs straight sets. The one constant is quality reps. He doesn’t cheat, and he knows exactly how to maximize the tension on the targeted muscles from stretch to contraction, rep after rep.

R IS FOR RECORDS (as of 7/2016)

MOST ARNOLD CLASSICS | 15

MOST ARNOLD CLASSIC WINS | 5

MOST OLYMPIAS | 16

MOST PRO YEARS | 18

*He’s also narrow- ing in on most pro contests (he’s five behind Albert Beckles’ 81) and most pro wins (he’s one behind Ronnie Coleman’s 26).

S IS FOR SHORT

Maybe it’s because there’s nothing squat about his stature, or maybe it’s because his remarkable size always has him battling giants and never the 212 guys, but we tend to for- get that he’s only 5'6"—the same height as Shawn Ray and merely an inch taller than Flex Lewis and Franco Columbu. Dexter Jackson is the best bodybuilder under 5'9" of all time.

T IS FOR TRAPEZIUS

The five-time Arnold Classic champ has traps so high they seem at risk of impairing his hearing. To keep them from overshadowing his delts, he hasn’t shrugged for years. However, if you’re not sporting Olympia-worthy traps, he advises you to shrug away and also do some upright rowing. “Lots of guys have turned weak traps into a decent body part,” he states. “They usually grow pretty easily if you put the work in.”

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U IS FOR UBIQUITY

Since making his pro debut at the Arnold Classic on March 6, 1999, Jack- son has been in seemingly every major contest, covering a span so long it’s encompassing a fifth presidential election. In this, his record 18th pro year, he’ll flex in his record 17th Olympia. He is bodybuilding’s all-time ironman.

V IS FOR VENICE

“It’s the most famous gym in the world,” he says of Gold’s Gym Venice. “There’s so much history here you just can’t help but get up for each workout in the Mecca.” The flagship Gold’s Gym in Venice, CA, has been his workplace for the past six years.

W IS FOR WINS

After this year’s New York Pro, Jackson’s 25 pro wins puts him only one behind Coleman’s record 26. The Blade’s tally includes two masters pro shows, but, even if we limit it to open contests, the all-time mark is within reach.

X IS FOR X-FRAME

Most bodybuilders who are both short and hefty are built like boxes. Think Branch Warren. Because of a wispy waist beneath broad shoulders and above full quads, the Blade carries his superheavy mass like a light-heavyweight. His silhouette forms a distinctive X.

Y IS FOR YOUTH

We rightfully celebrate his success as an elder statesman, but he was once a bodybuilding prodigy. After pursuing football, martial arts, and track and field in high school, Jackson, at age 20, entered his first bodybuilding contest, the 1990 Jacksonville Physique. Though he was a 137-pound bantamweight rookie, he took the overall title. Growing into classes, he progressed through the ranks. In 1995, at 25, he won the USA light-heavy class.

Z IS FOR ZENITH

In a career with so many titles and records, it’s difficult to pinpoint a highlight. The 2008 Mr. Olympia is hard to top. But there are also the record five Arnold Classic victories. His ultimate achievement may be yet to come—the record for most IFBB pro wins. That could be Jackson’s this year or maybe next year. Or perhaps he’ll still be adding to his tally several years from now, as the Blade continues, against all odds, to confound his greatest rival—Father Time.

FLEX

from Bodybuilding Feed http://www.flexonline.com/training/dexters-secrets via http://www.rssmix.com/

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