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fandompitfalls · 3 years

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Fandom, Misogyny, and the Struggle for "Clarice"

Originally posted 2/24/21

There’s a quote that, summarized, says, in order for a woman to be seen as an equal to men, she has to work twice as hard. And never more what that brought to light outside real life than Valentine’s Day weekend when CBS aired the premiere of Clarice.

In 1991, Silence of the Lambs, a runaway hit thriller staring Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins came onto public consumption and introduced the world to the phrase “quid pro quo” and the name Hannibal Lecter became a well-known name.

In 2013, a series by the name of Hannibal staring Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy premiered on television and was immediately embraced by the fandom community. Dating long before Silence of the Lambs, the show features a BSU consultant by the name of Will Graham who is called into service because of his unique ability to profile serial killers. He develops a professional and later, a personal relationship with Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

In the beginning the question of Will’s mental state was brought up, the reason Lecter was introduced into the series, he was hired on assess Will Graham after cases to make sure his fragile mental state was not deteriorating. It allowed Hannibal to get close to Will and manipulate him in an attempt to turn Will into a killer like himself. The show ended after three seasons and during those seasons, the show’s creator, Brian Fuller, made cinematography magic with his sets and scenes, a lot of them gruesome yet exquisite.

Hannibal became fandom’s gory darling, the relationship between Will and Hannibal being the main fodder. This was furthered by the support of Bryan Fuller’s comment in Collider stating that he saw Hannibal as being in love with Will Graham. https://collider.com/bryan-fuller-hannibal-silence-of-the-lambs-interview/

Just this past week, a new twist on the Silence of the Lambs timeline premiered with Clarice. Clarice takes place a year after Silence of the Lambs and the Buffalo Bill murders. She is pulled from the BAU and sent to a task force run by Ruth Martin, the mother of Buffalo Bill’s only surviving member, Catherine. Created by Alex Kurtzman and Jenny Lumet, Clarice is not affiliated with Hannibal, the Series, in any way, rather, it is a telling of Clarice Starling’s story after the events of Silence of the Lambs.

Here’s where it differs. And remember, this is only the first episode. By the time I post this, there will be two episodes out.

In the opening scene, Clarice Starling is sitting in a therapist’s office. The therapist, a man with no name as of yet, is trying to get her to tell him about her feelings regarding the one-year anniversary of the Buffalo Bill murders. He even has a copy of a magazine that features her on the cover with the title “Bride of Frankenstein.” The more he pushes the more she holds back, telling him the rots answers that most FBI therapists want to here. Finally, she mentions the magazine was bought by him as a trigger to see if she would break and he tells her that he thinks she’s not stable enough to go back in the field because she refuses to use to the “survivor” in relation to her encounter with Buffalo Bill. She is not a survivor, she was never kidnapped, she was an FBI agent doing a job. He also cites her relationship with Hannibal Lecter, insinuating that it was more personal in nature than he thought necessary.

Before he can put her at a desk, she is called back into the field by Ruth Martin and put under the team led by Paul Krendler, a man who Clarice “upped” in the movie when she was a trainee. He doesn’t want her there, insists on a profile after seeing the first two bodies and when she can’t give an accurate one because she doesn’t have all the evidence, he tells her she had to tell the press it’s a serial killer.

It’s already shown that Clarice has a bit of trauma with press conferences and this is something that keeps coming back. The press want Clarice and Paul Krendler just wants her to be the face of his team and tells her that she will say what he tells her to say. Clarice is not taken seriously by Krindler, by anyone else in the office, (there’s a scene where men from the other unit that share an office, coat her desk drawer with lotion and leave that lotion and a basket in the drawer and then laugh about it). Clarice is blocked at every turn by men, even her therapist calls Krindler and tells him to bench her because he’s worried about her mental state.

The first time we meet Will Graham, his mental state is mentioned as tenuous, yet the FBI have no problem throwing him right out into the field. Clarice was a trainee who managed to catch a serial killer, and somehow she’s considered too “fragile” to be put on any cases other than desk jobs. In fact, throughout the entire first episode, the only person on her new team to take an interest and believe what she says is Thomas Esquivel, an ex-special forces soldier turned agent who believes in what she says.

From the first moment of this show the misogyny was right out on view, there is no hiding that all of the men in this show do not like Clarice because she’s young, she’s a woman and they are intimidated by her talent. Her only support comes from Agent Esquivel and her friend and former trainee Ardelia Mapp.

I mention the misogyny because it’s not all on the show. It’s from the fans as well. The first time I was reminded the show was on was when I noticed Hannibal was trending on Twitter. The day and time frame Clarice aired its premiere, Twitter was lamenting that they wanted a season four of Hannibal. While researching for this blog, I used IMDB to get names and plot points. And came across this comment about the premiere:

“Can we bring back Hannibal, please?

12 February 2021 | by [redacted]

And by that I am of course referring to the excellent series featuring Mads Mikkelsen's amazing portrayal of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. That series had great style, fantastic atmosphere, and stellar directing, editing, and acting. They planned to tell the ultimate Hannibal Lecter story but only were able to make three seasons out of a seven season plan. So, here we have a Clarice Starling series that had been in the works for years but didn't get the train running till now. So the premiere - Meh. Rebecca Breeds makes a very good Clarice but nothing else is up to her level. The cinematography isn't bad but the atmosphere is lacking, the characters are none too memorable, and the storyline isn't attention grabbing enough. I give it about a season at least.”

I don’t know the time when this posted, but I’m not surprised by the comment at all. Comment and review bombing seems to be the way that fans express their “disappointment” about their old shows not getting anything…or rather, their favorite male characters not getting more screen time.

On the same page, the below link was posted. This was one day after the first episode of Clarice premiered:

Clarice: Season Two? Has the CBS TV Series Been Cancelled or Renewed Yet? 13 February 2021 | TVSeriesFinale

A freshman series about a female criminal profiler who is pushed down, ignored, harassed because of her sex. It’s almost a case of life imitating art.

I was going to leave this post as it was and post it today but last week the second episode aired which showed Clarice pushing past childhood trauma to face down a cult leader and a corrupt government system thereby earning Krendler’s respect and her position on the team. And while Thomas Esquivel told her that a team is only good if each of its members understand that they can trust and support one another, thereby hopefully foreshadowing that this team will eventually accept Clarice as one of their own and in turn she will do the same, it took her risking her life by going back inside the compound, disregarding orders and singlehandedly getting the information needed to put both the cult leader and head of the County Sheriff down for the count for Krendler to finally see her worth and decide to keep her on the team.

I liked Clarice. It was hard to watch at times, not only because of the trauma she is dealing with as well as the survivor, Catherine, calling her and harassing her, but because of the anger I felt watching Clarice get stepped on time and time again by the men in this show, only to get up and do her job. Her final speech she makes at the end of episode one about her grandmother is inspiring and gives the viewer a bit of a “in your face” to the men behind her, especially Krendler…even though we all know he’s going to make her life a living hell when they get back to the office because she didn’t follow his rules. That said, this show is very much a procedural, much like CSI or Criminal Minds. The series follows the format of the movie. This is not Hannibal. It’s not trying to be Hannibal, It is trying to be Clarice. And, as the quote goes, it’s going to have to work twice as hard to even get one half of the respect it deserves.

#FPBlog #Clarice #misogyny #fandom #televison #blog post #toxic fandom

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more-miserables · 3 years

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Here We Go: Yates and Ginger on the Run

Hi this is actually @cubeswhump editing on April’s blog. That’s why there’s a title, and why it’s so bad.

So this is a collab with moi, Cube. We’ve had this planned since even before April’s first whump fic.

Warning for abuse, death, institutionalized slavery, vomiting, trauma response.

The life of a runaway was far from glamorous. Ginger remembered daydreaming while he scrubbed endless floors and windows, picturing himself living with Yates in a calm, peaceful woodland, cradled every night by the soft ferns and leaf litter.

The city wasn’t calm or safe. Ginger didn’t stop running for a long time, hauling Yates along, until they were both gasping and red in the face. They dipped into a dark alleyway and Ginger ripped off his collar right away, grinning. It felt liberating. He tossed it away gleefully.

“Get rid of yours too,” he told Yates.

Yates didn’t react. His eyes were blank, though a steady stream of tears were pouring down his flushed cheeks. Ginger went to remove Yates’s collar himself, sighing. Yates didn’t fight him off, but he whimpered.

“Look, you can keep it if you really want to. You just can’t wear it, or it’ll be obvious we’re runaways.” He balled up the collar and stuffed it into Yates’s pocket.

They camped out in the alley that night, curled together under a nest of old newspapers - and that’s where they stayed for the next few days. Yates stayed in his weird catatonic funk, so it was Ginger who had to find them food and clothes and some sort of housing. It was harder than he’d thought. He knew so little about the outside world now. He learned to hang around market stalls, snatching at their displays and then running off with whatever loot he’d managed to grab.

He couldn’t properly treat his burned palm now. He couldn’t even wash it properly. It soon grew more painful than ever, weeping through the grubby bandages. Then Ginger woke with a fever, and he couldn’t drag himself up to go find food. Yates snapped out of himself enough to cradle Ginger’s burning head in his lap, stroking his hair.

Ginger peered up at Yates’s pale, grubby face through the fever haze. How would Yates manage if he died now? Maybe Stanley really was dead. Maybe they’d lock Yates up. He didn’t know if pets who committed crimes were refurbished or incarcerated. He pictured Yates stuck in prison all alone, crying for him. He couldn’t die. He could fight off anything. He had to.

The first time Ginger heard it, he was emerging from a dream where he was being chased by something bulky, heavy. Clomp, clomp. It continued when he woke up but softer. They huddled together frightfully, but the sound became smaller and smaller.

When it came again the next night, Ginger dared to look, and blanched when the figure looked back. It was gone the next night, but the night after that the clomps paused much too close to their hideout. And then they resumed, coming right toward them.

“What is that?” Ginger gasped.

“Maybe it’s the police,” Yates said shakily. “Because I’m a murderer.” He gave a little sob.

“You’re not. Stanley just fell,” Ginger declared.

“Shh!”

The footsteps stopped right in front of them, and a bright light shone in their faces. When Ginger dared give his fiercest glare through his fever-flushed face and squinting, he met big, blue eyes and shimmering glitter.

"Aha! Thought so," said this odd girl, long, black hair nearly touching their faces as she bent right over them.

“Go away! I… I’ve got a weapon,” Ginger lied as savagely as possible.

“Do you?” Yates gasped. “Where’d you get that?”

Ginger sighed heavily.

The snort was too loud for the girl. She set her phone down on the dirty ground, its flashlight shining toward the sky, and sat right in the alleyway with them in her clean jeans.

"Hiya there, Tweedledee and Dum." Her accent was on the brink of familiarity but impossible to place, and nothing like those of Stanley or Ivy or anyone at the facility. "Don't make those faces. We're comrades."

“Those aren’t our names. You must be mistaking us for someone else,” Ginger said.

Her face changed to something between a laugh and a grimace. "Righto. Mister and Mister fifty-sixty-ten?"

“That’s… not quite our number,” Yates whispered.

“Shh!” Ginger hissed. “Don’t tell her.”

She paused, tilting her head, then rolled back the sleeve of her big coat.

"See this?" she asked, tapping on one of the big, green serpentine creature wrapping all around her forearm. The sparkly nail touched upon a segment covering her inner wrist. Ginger rubbed his eyes, trying to see clearly. His vision had been wobbly for a while now. She pointed the flashlight at it.

He frowned. “There’s nothing there..?”

"'Xactly. Numbers aren't forever, love," she said, the bright light dancing around as she pulled her sleeve back down over the tattoo.

“You mean you were one of us?” Yates asked.

"Bingo," she said, pointing at him. "C'mon, up up. You can get warmed up at my place while I make a few calls, yeah?"

She paused, head tilting to one side. She added, "You're probably not too keen on trusting a stranger, one of your own or not, but Little Red here ain't lookin' so hot, and I don't think you've many options."

“He isn’t,” Yates said desperately. “I can’t get his temperature to go down. Can you really help us?”

"Yep, sure. You able to walk, Little Red?" She stood up, shining her phone at him. The light also illuminated the height of the platforms of her weather-inappropriate shoes, and it was clear what the clomping was.

“I dunno. Haven’t tried in a couple of days.” Ginger shakily got to his knees, and Yates helped him up the rest of the way.

"You got it?" she asked.

“I think so.” He paused. “Why’d you wear shoes like that? They look uncomfortable.” Neither Yates nor Ginger had shoes at all, their bare feet cut and filthy.

"Uniform, of sorts. I don't feel like carrying an extra pair of shoes to put on when I'm done with work."

“What job makes you wear shoes like that?”

"Tell ya later," she said, unzipping her jacket and tossing it to them. Despite the chill, she seemed fine in the tank top underneath. "Anyway, I'm Jamie. You guys got any name preferences for yourself?"

Yates opened his mouth, but Ginger shook his head quickly. Maybe Stanley’s “accident” had been on the news. They didn’t want to be tied to his surname. “Not anymore,” Ginger said.

She seemed more cautious when they entered a neighborhood, looking at the windows of all the houses. It was nothing like Stanley's neighborhood, junker cars in tiny driveways and people shouting with open doors.

"Well, that's something to think about. You've got plenty of time though."

“We shouldn’t be out in the open,” Ginger hissed. He was still trying to look threatening, though that was difficult to pull off when he was leaning heavily on Yates just to stay standing.

"No duh, but we don't have much of a choice," she muttered, pulling out a smartphone and typing away on it. "My house isn't far from here."

“Who are you texting? You’re not turning us in, are you? Is this a trick?”

"Can you read? Genuine question, I know lots of us can't. I'll show you the conversation, I'm just telling my mate we're havin' company."

“I… a little bit. He can’t.” He pointed at Yates. “I’m not good at… being us.”

She held the phone out to Ginger, showing a text conversation with someone called Vivi:

Get bread read a green bubble, and then, And strawberries.

The following white bubble said: I'm already on our street. Needy cunt.

There was another white bubble with a later timestamp, seemingly unrelated to the previous exchange: Bringing some blokes over.

Green: Wtf - followed by a crying face emoji.

White: Chill, they're cool.

“What’s this word?” Ginger asked, pointing to the Wtf message. “There’s no vowels. Why doesn’t it have vowels?”

"Acronym or anagram or something. Each letter stands for a different word, in this case it means 'what the fuck'."

“Oh. She doesn’t seem too pleased that we’re coming.”

"She's shy, not angry. She'll just hide in her room," Jamie said, pocketing her phone. And she walked down an empty driveway, not allowing them much time to process this response.

“This is your house?” Ginger asked. He sounded relieved but breathless, his face waxy pale and sweaty.

"Yep. Mi caso- casa, su casa," she said, trying the doorknob before patting her pockets for the key. She swung it open and kicked off her shoes very loudly, both thumping against a stained wall. She was about the same height as Yates now, possibly smaller if she washed out her hairspray.

"Hey Vivs!" she yelled to no one in sight. Ginger winced at the noise, closing his eyes against the bright light. Everything hurt.

"You guys wanna shower?" she asked, and gestured toward the bathroom. "You should prob'ly get cleaned up and then we'll see what we can do about that fever. We prob'ly have some pyjamas that won't fit too terribly."

“I wanna sleep,” Ginger muttered. It was getting harder for Yates to keep him upright.

"Uh, sure." She gestured for him to follow as she walked into the tiny living room. The furniture was surprisingly nice, and the TV looked gigantic against the wall.

"So, do we know what's causin' the fever and general… drowsiness? I haven't heard you coughing or sniffing." Her voice never seemed to lose volume, just as loud as she disappeared through a doorway.

“I think he has an infection,” Yates said. “He’s got a terrible burn and we couldn’t get it properly treated.”

She appeared again with two glasses of water, setting both on the silver coffee table that was squished in between the sofa and the stand the TV sat on. "Can I take a look?"

“No,” Ginger muttered, looking uncomfortable. “It’s gross.”

"Don't you want me to put somethin' on it until we can have it properly looked at?"

“Well… The bandages could use a change.”

She paused. "Would you be more comfortable if I gave your buddy the supplies so he can do it?"

“Yes,” Ginger said quickly. “I need him to do it.”

She disappeared in a different direction this time. Cabinets opened and closed with thumps.

"Viv, what shit do I use for an infected burn? Hey, where are bandages?"

Footsteps, this small girl impossibly loud in her bare feet. "What do I use for an infected burn and where do I find it?"

The response, if there was one, was inaudible but after some more thumping, Jamie emerged with a tube of antiseptic and bandages. "One sec, I'll get you soap and water. Oh, a towel too. Vivien says to wash first and pat it dry, then…"

She went on as she disappeared into the kitchen. Yates tried to follow her and Ginger stumbled, not expecting the movement. They ended up in a heap on the carpet.

"No, I'll get a bowl! Wait!" She reached toward them as if to just yank up two grown men, but she stopped herself. She straightened out and offered a hand instead.

Yates went to take it, but then Ginger bent over and puked on the carpet. Yates’s face crumpled and he quickly positioned himself in front of Ginger, hunching over him protectively. “I’m sorry! It’s not his fault. He’s been vomiting for the past few days.”

"Uh, yeah, that happens." She was suddenly a bit quieter, smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Yeah, I'm gonna… can I help you get him on the sofa?"

“Please. I can’t… I don’t think he can stand anymore.” Yates was near tears. “He’s been like this for a while and I hate that I can’t do anything. He tries to push himself for me but then this happens.”

The corner of her lip twitched. "I get that."

She knelt down and gripped Ginger under his arms, dragging him up. Her brows knitted together, teeth grit, but she managed to frog march him to the sofa and forced him into a sitting position. Yates sat beside him and held his shoulders when he started slumping forwards. Ginger was barely conscious now, his eyes glazed and half-closed.

The hours were a blur, soap and antiseptic and coaxing painkillers and water down Ginger's throat while he was still pliable. Jamie was all over the place but the faceless Vivien never made an appearance. By the time they’d finished, Ginger was asleep - or unconscious.

And then Yates was stirring, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. When did he fall asleep, and how long? It was almost pitch black save for a light from the hall.

After a quick check that Ginger was still breathing, he heard it: mumbled voices from down that hall. He carefully moved off the sofa, silent in his bare feet, and crept towards the noise and the light. He peered through the crack in the door.

"Just- okay," Jamie said, trying to control her volume as it started to rise. "If you're goin' to be fookin' useless, just give me David's number."

"What's she saying?" This voice was unfamiliar, and effortlessly quieter than Jamie's. "Jamie, what's she saying?"

"She thinks a phone call will put her safehouse in danger. She's worked with countless o' us and she's too chickenshit to take on a pair that's got in a bitta trouble. What? Murderer? Marianne, that's blimey unfair to call him that! Just give us David's number!"

Yates started shaking at the word. Murderer murderer murderer. Was Stanley dead then? Did people know about it already? He hadn’t really meant to push Stanley - or he hadn’t planned it, at least. When Stanley had been ranting and raving about how he was going to split him and Ginger up, something in Yates just snapped. Stanley was hovering right there, tantalisingly close to the perilous staircase. He pushed without thinking. But he’d still pushed. He was a murderer.

"Jamie, they'll hear you! You're so loud!"

"Mar, just… Vivi, can you go check on them?"

"No fear!"

Yates was trying to stay quiet, but murderer was still spinning in his head. A little whimper slipped out before he could stop it.

There was a beat of silence that seemed to last for hours.

"Hold on, gimme a sec. And you better not fookin' hang up."

The door opened slowly. A girl with a puff of frizzy brown hair and gigantic eyes stared from the bed, but she faded to the background. The girl standing before him was almost unrecognizable with her black hair lying limply and makeup washed off; no contouring giving the impression of high cheekbones, eyebrows and eyelashes almost nonexistent at a glance for they were so pale. But the voice was unmistakably Jamie.

"Hey, so you heard that. That's fair, it is your business, but… this prob'ly wasn't the best way to start the discussion."

“You promised you wouldn’t turn us in,” Yates gasped. He felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out, and he gasped frantically. “You said you were on our side! But now they’ll come for us and split us up.”

"No one's turnin' anyone in. Come sit down, you look ready to faint."

“I h-heard you say it. You called me murderer,” Yates whispered.

"No, I was sayin' that you're not, I know the kinda circumstances…"

“We’ve got nowhere to go,” Yates said, starting to sob frantically. “I don’t know what to do!”

"Listen, listen. There's people who help us when we escape. There are places for us to stay. And I'm tryin' to get you to one of these safehouses so you'll be safe."

“You promise?” Yates wept. “You won’t split us up either?”

"No way. Vivien and I met in a safehouse, didn't we?" Jamie asked, and the frizzy-haired girl gave a jerky nod. "They're fine, way better than what we left. No owners, none o' that shit."

“Will they help Ginger’s hand?” He gasped. “Oh, I said his name!”

"Ginger?" She raised her invisible eyebrows, snorting humorlessly. "I was interchangeably Blondie and Bimbo. Yeah, they'll help him. They'll have all the right medications."

“I don’t think he likes his name much. He says we can choose our own now,” Yates said. “But I don’t think that’s allowed.”

"Come in, sit," she said, practically forcing him to sit on the bed, as Vivien retreated from the room. "Who says it's not allowed?"

“Everyone…” he mumbled. “Everyone in training and Stanley and Ivy.” Yates wasn’t too good at this lying low business.

"So? You're not pets anymore. I named me Jamie."

“Why Jamie?”

"Dunno. Felt right. Not too girly, not too boy-ee, short and simple, straight to the point."

“Did your owners name you first?”

"One, not owners. Slave drivers. Two, kind of, as I said earlier. Not a proper name, just…" She pulled a face, and put on a deeper, plummy voice. "''Come here, Blondie!' 'Don't drop that, Bimbo!'"

“Stanley called me by his surname. He could be so kind to me,” Yates mumbled, fingering the collar still in his pocket.

The phone on the bed vibrated. Jamie picked it up and looked at it as she talked. "Tell me, Curls. Should a human have possession of another human?"

“I…” He winced as his head throbbed and he reverted back to the phrases drilled into him in training. “That’s none of my concern. I just have to work diligently and follow orders.”

"Why? Why do you have to do that and not, say, Stanley? Think about it, I got this schmuck's number."

“Schmuck?” He didn’t recognise that word. Was it bad?

"I don't know the origins but yeah, it's derogatory. I like to think of it as a mix o' shit and fuck but there's an m, so I dunno."

“You have his number?” Yates started shaking again, biting his lip. What did she mean? He’d had a number before, him and Ginger. Was this David one of them too?

"Yeah? His mobile? He's this big money agent of sorts, he's not so bad actually but ya know, rich people."

“Sorry, yes, of course. It just… started to feel real,” Yates mumbled dazedly. “And you’re sure he’s good? He won’t turn us in?”

"Nah, he has a huge network for pet lib. Uh, pet liberation. He helps us get free. He doesn't run a safehouse, he's too much in the public eye so he'd get caught, but he, like, funds a bunch and I think his son runs one. If I ring him he'll know where to place you."

“Can’t we just stay here with you?” Jamie was the first person to treat them kindly since… well, as long as Yates could remember.

"You can come and visit, I'd love that. We're mates now, right? But you guys need medical care, therapy, shit you won't get here. Plus I work nights six days a week and Vivien, much as I love her, won't be a great hostess to you two."

“But we can visit? Definitely?”

"Yeah, and if David tells me where you are I'll visit too."

Yates smiled; it was very weak, but it was his first real smile in days.

It was almost peaceful - almost - with the orange-pink light of the rising sun filling the room, a steaming cup of watery hot chocolate in his hands, a cartoon playing on the TV, him and Ginger getting a good night of sleep for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. The anxiety was still there as Jamie murmured to an unseen stranger on the phone, occasionally peeking out of the kitchen to check on him, and the uncertainty surrounding Ginger's fever and bandaged hand.

Jamie came out at last, the rectangular outline of her phone in her baggy pyjama pants. She grinned and gave him a thumbs up, perching on the arm of the couch.

“Is it all fixed?” he whispered, hardly daring to hope.

"Yep. Says he'll be sendin' someone promptly, his words. Hopefully you get someone fun, my Marianne was such a fussy grandma."

“I don’t think Ginger would like fussy people.”

"Let's cross our fingers, bud." She crossed her fingers for him to see. "But you won't be placed with anyone bad, I promise."

“Okay…” Yates still didn’t look too sure. He stuck close to Jamie, following her around like a puppy. He jumped violently when there was a soft knock on the door sometime later.

Jamie glanced toward the door, and over at Yates.

"Think that's your ride."

#whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #male whumpee #female caretaker #no whumper #multiple whumpees #burns #tw abuse #abuse tw #injury #emeto tw #tw emeto

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xxmisty · 4 years

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My Big Humiliating Torchwood Confession - Part 1 :P

Warning: this will be a LONG post, and i’m sorry about that!

Lucy is sat opposite me asking me repeatedly if I’ve started typing yet because she knows how desperately i’m putting off making this post!!1

This is awful, this is.... probably the most embarrassingly intimate confession i’ll have made since the day I opened up about my fetish way back at the start of 2013. And on the surface of it it probably doesn’t seem like that big of a deal but IT IS TO ME! And a big chunk of the trauma i’m about to express is tongue in cheek but it’s genuinely been - and continues to be - a huge bundle of DISTRESS AND HUMILIATION AND UTTER RESENTMENT!!! Because this year has been.... one hell of a personal journey and i don’t even mean anything to do with the pandemic.

It all started on New Year’s Day. I was feeling horrendously ill; the miraculous medication that had started to give me my life back had run out and thanks to the festive postal delays my new lot hadn’t arrived yet. I was in agony, I had a horrible headache, I felt sick and I could hardly move. We spent the day watching a bunch of muppet stuff, and that night we watched the first ep of season 12 of Doctor Who and, y’know, it was a pretty damn good episode (plus thirteen in the suit.... fuuckkk)

So afterwards we started having a discussion about Chris Chibnall - we’ve long held criticisms about some of his writing (not all of it, but it’s a mixed bag) and Lucy told me I still hadn’t seen his worst writing because that was for Torchwood...

Which I had never seen. Which I had been desperately trying not to see, although I didn’t know why. I just always had this vibe like a big “NO ENTRY!” sign at the idea of ever watching it. It’s not as though I had a logical reason for it, it’s not like I’d read up about it and thought, ‘naahhhhhh, I don’t fancy watching that’. I just had a big WARNING sign in my head, telling me not to go there.

Several years ago Lucy made me watch the first episode (after i’d been avoiding her threats of showing it to me for like 2 years) and like... it wasn’t horrible? It wasn’t... great either... but it didn’t kill me. Then a couple of years ago she showed me Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang because we were having a big Runaways phase so she wanted to show me an episode with James Marsters in. Again, it didn’t kill me. It wasn’t horrible. But I still had those big NO ENTRY!!! signs up in my head. I was still trying desperately to avoid actually being shown Torchwood as a show.

And the the new year happened and I was too WEAK AND DEFENCELESS to know what was happening when Lucy and I cuddled up in bed that night. I was too sick to really comprehend what she was doing or to fight back when she announced she was going to show me the very worst of Chris Chibnall’s writing... and put on Day One followed by Cyberwoman.

Oh. My. God.

All day I had been in a state of physical agony. Suddenly my mental and emotional state was far, FAR worse!!! The sex gas alien was bad enough, then by the time she put on Cyberwoman my brain was trying to shut down. I used to suffer blackouts and, god, I kept blacking out all the way through it, and instead of being her usual loving, wonderful self she KEPT FORCING ME TO COME ROUND TO WATCH IT!!!

By this point it was gone midnight and I was in a state of utter distress!! This was the worst double helping of tv I had ever sat through in my life and I sat up and let forth a tirade of absolute distress! This, I decided, had to be the reason I’d been avoiding Torchwood. Because it was more like.... Torurewood :P

Yep, that had to be it. Couldn’t possibly be anything worse, could it?

At least now lucy had shown me those two terrible Chibnall eps I would NEVER EVER HAVE TO WATCH THEM AGAIN. Or ANY Torchwood episodes. Yes, my ordeal was over. Had to be.

Nope. We went back to bed and she put on Out if Time. And i’ll admit, the story was much stronger but goddddd I had issues with the endings! And my level of despair started to rise even higher. I HATED Torchwood! This was the most distressing night’s viewing ever and I just wanted to go to sleep and be done with it all! Lucy put one more episode on afterwards: They Keep Killing Suzie. And that was much better but halfway through we finally fell asleep - so surely my trauma was over with.

Nope.

I had horrible nightmares of a very thirsty Gwen coming onto me all night, over and over again and it was HORRIBLE!!! Like, you have no idea how distressed I was! And when I woke up I blamed lucy whole-heartedly and she very sympathetically laughed at my plight!

But yeah. My trauma was over. No more Torchwood. I’d suffered the night from hell. Now it was time to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and move on! My medication arrived that day, I started work on some new pet portraits and life went back to normal.

Until that night, when I saw the telltale sign of Lucy putting a video on and turning her iPad around and then there they were - the opening titles of Torchwood - and I wanted to jump out the boat and into the canal and swim as far away as possible!!!

But the episode she put on was Fragments. She said she wanted to show me Chris Chibnall’s finest episode. And y’know what? It was really pretty fucking good. And god, I was fURIOUS about that!!! When we went to bed she pulled a real double whammy though by putting on Adam - which became instantly one of my favourite episodes of ANYTHING, EVER. And I looked at my wife, shook my head, sighed and told her, ‘nice save, Lucy... nice save...’

Over the next couple of weeks we also had a major Doctor Who rewatch and revisited most of the New Who era, and - to my mixed feelings - she dotted various other episodes of Torchwood in around them. I was conflicted - after the Adam and Fragments double bill I was no longer in brain-screamy hatred territory. I did however keep having flashbacks to that godawful night. Plus i’d had several further nightmares about a thirsty Gwen and I did NOT like it! But by a couple of weeks into January I’d seen a fair bit of Torchwood. Some of them twice.

Around this same time I’d started back in testosterone after not being able to afford it for the last 3 years. And then I started to notice I was getting some..... urghhhhhh..... unusual... and very uncomfortable feelings... about certain.... things... and characters.

And I started falling headlong into a great big gay panic :P

And here’s where the whole story becomes a HELL of a lot more embarrassing so i’m going to put it under a read more :P

Did ya click on that read more? Wh-why? there’s nothing to see here... especially not a long tale of shame and distress :P ugggghhhhhhh ok, FINE;

Basically there were two things happening at the same time. One was that I started to feel something I hadn’t felt in two decades. When I was a kid/teen we didn’t have the phrase ‘hyperfixation’ so I just called them obsessions. I always had obsessions, at any given point there was always this ONE THING that was my entire life. i lived it, breathed it, became it. It was my whole world, my whole personality, my focus, my lifeline. 9 times out of 10 it would be a tv show. Between the ages of 12 and 15 I would generally change my obsession about once a month. There were several ‘usual suspects’ that would cycle around over and over - Red Dwarf, The Brittas Empire, Sonic the Hedgehog, Halfway Across the Galaxy, Parallel 9, Out of this World...

late in 1995 I became obsessed with The X Files and - bizarrely - that obsession just ran and ran. I was so used to my obsession changing around once every month that it was bizarre to still be absolutely hyperfixated on it almost 9 months later. And then, in June 1996, my longest ever obsession took its place, a little known uk fantasy show called Bugs.

That... was my longest running obsession. And oh my god, was I ever obsessed with it. I have no idea how that one obsession kept going for 3 years. i’m sorry this is particularly wordy but this is kind of personal and I want to explain this right.

If you’ve been following me for a while you’ll probably known that one of the most defining moments of my life happened in the summer of ‘98. My cousin’s husband sexually assaulted me and my life spiralled into total despair. While that night was bad enough, the slow breakdown I went through over the course of the year that followed was harder to recover from. And eventually I came out the other side to some degree but i’d lost my love of three things that made me the person I was: writing, drawing and being obsessed. All three were so closely entangled with that night and surviving afterwards that it changed something that had always been a fundamental part of me.

I was no longer able to feel obsession. To hyperfixate the way I previously had. It was like something was broken inside me. And that was like a loss unto itself. It was SUCH a big part of me. It had been the only way i’d survived years of depression when I was young. My obsessions were what kept me afloat.

In the last decade there are a few things that I called ‘obsessions’ and I thought were as close as I would ever get to the way I used to feel. I thought maybe it was because i’d ‘grown up’ (pah). That’s not to say that i wasn't thoroughly into Ashes to Ashes, FNAF and Homestuck, for example, because of course I was! I even called them obsessions, but there was something that just... wasn’t the same, no matter what I did.

And over time, I got back the other things I’d lost. I started writing my A2A fics in 2010 and Lucy helped me to start drawing again in 2018 and god, both times it was like finally having a piece of myself returned after so long! As for my ‘obsessions’, I just thought I wasn't able to feel the way I used to because I wasn’t a kid any more.

But then, I thought that about Christmas Eve too, and then lucy came into my life <3

Still, the last thing I was expecting was... for *those* feelings to start sneaking back in my life. Feelings I hadn’t been able to experience since the summer of 1998-9. And to my further distress I discovered that they were relating to a certain show that I’d had a traumatising introduction to on new year’s day...

Suddenly it was all I could think about; TORCHWOOD! TORCHWOOD! Aargghhhhh and yet I still hated it! It was still awful! And yet... at the same time... it was so goooooooood.... arghhhhh, every time we watched an episode there was a knife twisting in my guts, reminding me that I hadn’t even felt these feelings over things we’d been HUGELY into... the fandoms we’d met through, the fandoms we discovered together. Nope. It was Torchwood that brought back my ability to hyperfixate! And I have SO MANY ANGRY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS!!!! Grrrrrrrrr!!

And believe me, I kept thinking it was going to stop and go away BUT IT HASN’T! It’s only gotten worse! And as of yesterday Torchwood officially became my second longest obsession ever!!!

I. AM. FURIOUS!!!

It’s... urrghhhh I hate this fact but it’s almost like I have a crush on the *show*??!!! I... can’t explain it better than that??? It’s like, if I could throw Torchwood on the bed and make sweet, sweet love to it I would :P and yeah, i’m saying all of this tongue in cheek but i’ve had a fucking sky high libido ever since I went back on T (ohhhhh and believe me I am LOVING it!!! 💙💙💙) But it’s like... there are elements of Torchwood itself that are so fucking hot that I get.... reactions that I am SO FUCKING EMBARRASSED ABOUT for so many reasons deidjdhdggjhaaahhhhhhhhh

Lucy literally only has to say ‘Torchwood’ at me and I end up in a gibbering heap half the time - I am not even kidding!!!

This, however, is NOT the worst thing that happened as a result of Lucy making me watch this god damned show.

But honestly this post has gone on WAY too long already so i’m going to save that for part 2.

Oh god... my shame.... my total and utter shame....

To be continued :P

#torchwood #about me #me #obsessions #hyperfixation #moirspritmaterail blogging #Lucy is MEAN!!!#my posts

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thedoctor1002 · 4 years

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Idk, I never posted one of my fics here but guess I'll try ~

Also, English is not my first language so feel free to correct me QwQ

Fandom: Psycho-Pass -season 1- (is this still a thing?)

Characters: Kogami Shinya, Sasayama Mitsuru, OC

Prompt (it was in Italian, so I'll translate): write a story using three among these words: cloud, dusk, thunderstorm, storm, hull, bay, shelter, sail, night

Title: Log date: 2110/02/28 (Friday) 22:04

---

The lights of the bay flicker dynamically before your eyes.

They dance hypnotically, of the same cyan colour of your office’s walls, but with a whole different beat. They drink the red and white trails from the traffic, they shatter and multiply in the tears of an inclement rain. I know how much you hate it, you just can’t stand going on recon with an umbrella. On the other hand, I love it.

Rain brings us close together under the waterproof cloth and I manage to observe details that neon lights often hide from me: the precise way you part your hair, the last few drops of the jasmine perfume on your jacket, your long lashes. Shion thinks they’re fake. We always fight over it, can you believe me?

After all, you’ve never been the kind of woman to wear such frills.

A notification arrives, the acid light of your impalpable PC breaks through the sacred dark from where you pretend you don’t see me. It digs your silhouette and paints you like a ghost on the huge windows of the Public Safety Bureau.

Your jet-black hair lay on your back like varnish pouring over the white silk of your blouse.

“Pulling an all-nighter, Inspector Matou?” I ask casually, exposed. With you, after all, I always am: you’re the only one that can shush my shitty jokes.

But this time you laugh slightly: nothing more than a spike, a trembling breath that shakes your ribs and lips.

“The forecasts say that the storm won’t stop until tomorrow morning,” you tell me, sitting at your desk, “also, I’ve been delaying this paperwork through all week, it's about time I get it done. Might as well do some overtime and get rid of it, don’t you think?”

“You’re such a workaholic.” I label you, realizing how lucky I am being allowed to do it: Ginoza, that prude, would have never let it slide “You should leave some for the rest of the precinct: make 'em earn their wages.”

A tired smile crosses your face as you tap your fingers on the keyboard. It’s so clear you’re trying to avoid my glance.

You used to look for it.

You looked for my eyes at briefings, in that discrete way that eventually shocked everyone. You looked for them among alleys, as soon as you heard a gunshot or the chocked sound of a fight.

And when you found me, it felt like a 7 miles free fall.

“How are the legs going?” I dare to ask. I see the hollow structure of your new shins below the hem of your pencil skirt. They swing a bit underneath the glass of your desk. You didn’t lose your damn tic, your right heel shakes like the needle of a sewing machine even when you seem calm.

You shrug and drink the bottom of an already empty glass of water.

I shouldn’t have asked. It breaks my heart, to see you like this.

You don’t give me an answer and massage the back of your knee with a sigh. Lately, I feel like you’re avoiding me.

You’re turning back into the one you were before: uncompromising, cold and distant. I wonder if the bunch of ingrates downstairs have been calling you Dobermann again. I wonder if you’re still as relentless.

You worry me: your stress level is getting darker and darker. You don’t want old Kasei to take issues with you, not again.

I can imagine how you must have felt, the night when this mess happened.

You most likely got pissed, if I do know you.

I mean, did they really think I got away on my own? I bet you never doubted me: no one knows an Enforcer better than its Inspector.

“Runaway?! Have you lost your minds?” Sasayama?!”

Those were the first words you said when they rescued you. You spoke them way before cleansing your lungs from the rotten water of the river, way before asking Masaoka if you’d have ever got back to feeling your lower legs. They hurt like hell and you had to pull them around like sandbags.

“They got him” you panted, holding tight on your mentor’s coat “They took him away, I tell you!” The one that kidnapped him wasn’t a latent criminal. The Dominator didn’t activate, not even when they shot me. Please, believe me. Check on the log files, please.”

Crime coefficient: 0.

I know that bug still haunts you.

Cause, after all, it’s can’t be anything else: who on earth is that Makishima to fly under the Sibyl Sistem’s radar? Who can fool a network that knows your crimes before you do? And how is it possible that the silhouette that kneecapped you and threw you into a river could possibly be innocent?

You haven’t lost your mind, Inspector: the Dominator betrayed me, too.

Don’t think I don’t know how pitiful must have been, the next three days.

Makishima isn’t real. Forget it, it was just a delirium. You were in shock.

It was the trauma, dear. It was a breakdown. It was burnout syndrome.

You’d use some holiday, darling. Take a week. Take two. Go somewhere far, no, better: just stay at home. Go to therapy. Keep yourself busy, don’t think about it. Work. Also, don’t work: it wears you out!

They put you back on your feet in less than six hours, but nobody allowed you to join search parties. Heaven forbid your stress level getting any darker. Heaven forbid that yet another good Inspector gets demoted among those damn Enforcers. But, still, in the whole IT section, there wasn’t a single nerd that could get that night's logs. That's one funny thing, ain't it?

Woman, sometimes I wish your damn head wasn't that hard. I wish you didn't follow the Forensics to get a lift, so soon after the deed.

At least, you could have listened to Kogami. Shit, didn't you see how pale he was? You didn't even need the Dominator to read him, his stress level was mindblowing!

You should have believed him when he told you you didn't want to enter that alley. First off, it was already full of other detectives and analysts. I have no idea what kind of business you had to do in there. Second thing second, Kogami has an eye for certain matters. Do you think he didn't notice I’ve always been all over you? Not gonna lie, maybe I told him about you, once or twice.

But no, of course, you had to get in.

The software that taught you how to walk on those carbon stilts made you stand your ground and bark a "For fuck's sake, Shinya, move!" worthy of the Dobermann’s reputation. Even those who hadn't been called out made way.

But your new legs didn't hold you, when you saw what they had made of my corpse.

I'm sorry, Katsumi, I never wanted to upset you like that.

You know how much I would have rather have a more heroic death. I don't know, like, in the middle of a shooting, saving the day. It would have been much classier, less tacky, less trash. I think I deserved it, that's all.

You stop typing and rub your temples. You shelter what’s left of your lipstick behind your hand. I wish I could kiss it off, instead of watching you consume it in a ruby red halo in the notch between your thumb and your index.

You lift your eyes only for Kogami, who’s passing by your office like a nurse in its night shift.

“So?” he asks in a whisper, putting more care in that question than I could have ever done. More than anybody could have ever done, because he’s the only one that gets you, right now. You two seem like the only ones who lost something.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the monitor and the dangerously high Crime Coefficient on the display.

“It's not working” you wail softly, misty-eyed. I can’t believe it, is it still you?

“They’re gonna kick me out anyway, if it doesn’t lower quickly” you continue, with that realism of yours. I used to call you a jinx for that but, at the end of the day, you always got our backs. “It’s for the best if I just resign. I’m gonna keep what's left of my dignity, at least.”

The dark profile of my best friend looks through me, as he sits on the armchair next to mine. He would like to say something, a word of encouragement maybe, we all know it in this damn room, but numbers shut our mouths.

“You could become an Enforcer” he proposes.

Goddammit, Shinya, did we work with the same person? Katsumi as an Enforcer?

And there you go, shaking your head. You hold your face in your hands and let your raven hair hide your visage.

“Can you imagine me, following orders? I do know how to work, I can do it better than three-quarters of our colleagues and I’ve never had problems remarking it. They’d eat me alive if they had the chance. Dogs celebrate on the corpses of lions.”

“But lions remain lions and dogs stay dogs.” Kogami finishes, stealing my lines.

I notice the slight trembling of your finger, as you tap your touchpad to send that last confirm.

In a few moments, the system will have your resignation registered. Your profile won’t unlock your Dominator anymore and in a few days time, just enough for you to collect your belongings, you won’t even manage to enter the office.

Who’s gonna explain to old Kasei that there's more of your stuff here than in your apartment?

I’d ask you what do you plan on doing with your life, but tonight’s decision seems definitely brave enough to call it a day.

I look at the tabs you open in your browser, they mirror in the windows behind you.

Air travel.

Argentina, Cuba, States, New Zealand, Germany, Kenya. You go around the world in 80 seconds flat, you multiply your chances and spread them all through the air in front of you, in a complex diagram that doesn’t lead anywhere.

I never wanted to take you away from your home, you don’t deserve this.

You cover your eyes with a hand and use the other one to pick a random selection from your atlas.

Greece.

“Well, at least it’s on the sea.” you wrap up, condensing in a handful of words the only satisfaction you can find in starting a brand new life.

You two stare at the transparent screenshot of your flight, the countdown on the web page seems way too joyful.

“It’s so exciting, Katsumi Matou! Check-in your luggage. Your journey will begin in: 06 days: 17 hours: 34 minutes: 21 seconds”

20.

19.

18.

Seconds pass by, in complete silence.

“Do you think it would be a burden to him?” you ask Shinya, “Do you think he’d understand?”

Who would have guessed that a cynic one like yourself could believe in the afterlife? I wish I were here to ask you. I wish we could have spoken about life, death, sex, about things long gone and things yet to be.

His hand squeezes yours gently, as he looks at you in the eye, hoping to stop the train to Paranoidland from setting off.

“It’s not your fault” he reassures you as he can: the both of you wouldn’t make the average person’s empathy.

But he’s right, though, it really isn’t: I know you’ve done anything you could. It’s always been like that.

“Maybe I owe him” you draft “Even if they don’t believe in Makishima, maybe one day I could have proved he exists.”

The teal of your Psycho-Pass would suit you wonderfully, if it wasn’t a description of your mental health.

What could you possibly do in these conditions? You’d have ended up in a cubicle, filing loss and theft reports. You would have never made it to the dossiers, surely not to those of such a controversial case. Making you end up in a study room would have been my final bullshit. I’m happy with your choice, really. I would have loved visiting Europe someday.

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Kogami rebukes you, externalizing what I’ve been thinking all along: “I’m going to look out for your man: your team has already given way too much. I’m gonna find him, Matou, cold case or not.”

You nod, but it’s clear you don’t believe him. I can read through you, you’re a terrible liar.

I don’t think you don’t trust him, most likely you’ve done the math and figured that working on an independent case is far too difficult for an Inspector, let alone for an Enforcer.

And there it is, my fall. After an exhausting chase, you finally look into my eyes, even though -according to Shinya- you’re most likely staring at the void.

Despite being used to such races, believe me, I’ve missed you.

“I’m just so sorry.” you finally whisper, giving me a bitter smile.

Try and stop me, Ginoza, tell me once again how inappropriate it is: I don’t mind anymore. I get up and I don’t hesitate while holding you and leaving a kiss on your hair, shamelessly.

“I’m going to grab some coffee” I announce, walking backwards to the door like a shrimp, just to look at my dearest friends a bit longer. “I’d get you one, but I’m short on coins. Maybe next time.”

“See you, Inspector.”, Kogami greets you, leaving alongside me.

“Be good.” you wave back, as we were all to meet again tomorrow.

Walking through the dark alley, I can hear an excerpt from our last conversation through the opaque glass of your office.

“You’re jerk, Sasayama!”

I can hear you laughing out loud, through the crackly recording. You laughed at my gall, with that warm, strong, sweet voice of yours, mocking me. Admit it: mine, after all, were the only compliments that could make you blush.

It’s incredible how we managed to joke even inside a car that was taking us on a crime scene. To an external eye, we might have looked disrespectful. Truth is I’ve always feared death so much I just had to laugh at the reaper.

“Oh, come on, what would it take? Come with me to the Precinct’s New Year’s dinner, the 17th is around the corner!” I kept annoying you, as you were too busy driving to mind my dumb flirt attempts. I still can’t get how we never had an accident. “Be good, Katsumi, give me a joy to live for!”

“You could always ask Shion, you know? You always give her more attention, after all.”

I hear the subtle sound of the wheels stopping, the parking brake cracking and it’s like Ogishima’s outskirts appear before my eyes, in that same January night. That place gave me goosebumps, but I would have hated if you understood it.

“Here we are” you announced, with still a bit of resentment in your voice. You unlocked the passenger’s door and I remember I left your Dominator in the car’s trunk: I didn’t want you to follow me. Not that time.

“You scare me when you pay so much attention” you commented, noticing how serious I got “will you tell me why are you insisting so much to keep on searching? Kogami got the guy. Tomorrow we go, we arrest him and it's thank you, next.”

My answer has been recorded as a distant and muffled noise, but I still can trace it: “He’s not the one, I tell you. I have another suspect, but I need a more solid base. And you’re staying, Inspector.”

“Staying?! You’ve gone crazy!” you laughed, locking the corporate sedan behind you “If something were to happen to you, or worse if you didn’t come back, Kasei would…”

“I said you’re staying: it’s dangerous.”

“Sasayama, our work is dangerous,” you replied, contemptuous, understanding that clearly among the gear I brought I didn’t count yours and going back to the car to get it “One more risk won’t make a difference: if I have to drop dead, it can either be here, at home or god knows where.”

“Will you join me for the precinct’s dinner, though?”

And here is a sequence that the voice recorder surely can’t have grasped, but that I could remember even in a thousand years. You cast an outraged glance over me from above the trunk’s door, panting through a half-smile. You shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear. And finally, after refusing my invitations since 17th November, during lunch break, you smiled shrugging.

“Deal, come on, just make way” you sighed, as your heels echoed on the wet concrete “Still, you’re a jerk.”

“I recorded it: you have no excu-”

The audio file interrupts.

End of recording.

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wackygoofball · 5 years

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Gwenspiration: The Wacky Version Vol. 1 - The Fanfics

As threatened/promised, I am tooting the horn in a number of posts, following the most kind call of @jaimebrienneonline.

I decided to begin with fanfic as JB fanfiction was my way into the fandom when a kind voice, long time ago, lured me over to the wonderful world which is JBO. And ever since that day I found both my home and my people.

I am not going in a particular order because like my non-existent children, I kind of love and love to hate all of my fics equally.

But, for matters of scrolling convenience, I will put this list below a cut:

Childhood Friends has a special place in my heart because it is one of the two fics that got me into the fandom, and it is of the rare species of completed Wacky WIPs. The story marked my first tender steps in the canon as I was still catching up on show and book knowledge but got instantly hooked on the JB dynamic and just *had* to write fanfiction about them, albeit not yet knowing just what the frack Westeros even looked like on a map. I simply was intrigued by the idea of how the lives of our OTP may have played out differently if only they had met at a younger age, only to run into one another time and time again over the years, until at last, the circumstances seem to be in their favor. Writing that fic was a challenge because, for one, it got finished, which is incredibly hard for me to to do, and it is a coming of age story of sorts, which is not necessarily what I am used to writing. Nonetheless, it was a project that got me firmly into the fandom, which is why I am always remembering the process (and the writer’s panic) somewhat fondly, and always smile like an idiot when someone finds that old fic of mine and leaves a kudo or even a comment, reminding me of those early beginnings of my JB shipping career.

Choices likely has to be mentioned in the same vein, despite its crucial difference being that it went on a very, very, veeeeeery long hiatus and yet has to awaken (some prince wanting to give it a smooch to maybe bring it back to life? Would be much appreciated!). It was born out of the wish of exploring the infamous what if of Jaime and Brienne already getting intimate while on the road back to King’s Landing - as a matter of necessity/convenience, only for the misfortunate/very fortunate circumstance that Brienne winds up pregnant after their one time together. I enjoyed/would very much to enjoy again to write the character studies on how they deal not just with the issue of parenthood but also with their insecurities regarding their feelings for one another, which inspires more than one ill-made choice (*roll credits*) for either one of them as neither one dares to call love what actually is just that, hiding instead behind missions and honor, parenthood and duty, and fractured pasts that leave them wondering just who they became thanks to each other.

Colour Verses is a series that was born out of my first ever (I believe) JB Appreciation Week. OMG, it’s been so long. The theme of colors really had me inspired, which is why those pieces, which can be read in succession and independently, have a soft spot in my Wacky heart.

The Shredding Project, I believe, deserves an honorary mention despite its utter lack of completion for some of its parts and a happy ending for some of the tales shredded in this part of the fandom. I have a great passion for fairytales and deconstructing them, which inspired this undertaking of twisting and turning aka shredding all those stories into new models to fit Jaime and Brienne into. In fact, the Shredding Project is much larger than it currently is on AO3, as most of the shredded stories still reside in a large, very large Word file on my computer (42 shreddings up to date with a total of 414k words *whispers* 414k mkaaaay, yes I *am* obsessed), and can be found in the respective thread on JBO, where one can read perhaps not an eloquently put-together retelling of favorite fairytales (and some Disney movies) but at least find a conclusion to every story and thus a happy ending, as befits a fairytale.

Bow Down is another story I would mean to include in this list. It came to mean a lot to me personally because I worked my way through it at a time when I was not really having the time of my life for a number of reasons. Thus, finishing that fic did a lot of things for me - and hopefully also with my oh so patient readers. The basic premise is how things would have developed, had Brienne failed to find Sansa and thus fully dedicate herself to the cause of the Blackfish during the Riverrun Siege whose bitterness is clouding his judgment, leaving Jaime in a tough position to choose between his family and the mannish woman he can’t help but care about as much as he does.

A Tale of Spring is one of those fics I wish to include in that already way too long tooting because a) it is a finished story, which is always a rarity in my Wacky world, and b) it is still a kind of headcanon I would have loved to come about in some capacity, as it leaves room for not just happy endings while at the same time giving space for futures to grow for JB as they are cautious to dream of their future past the Long Night, edging on a Dream of Spring.

Paths is one of those stories I am, yet again, very desperate to get back on track with (I mean, it is supposed to lead somewhere, title has it). This story means a lot to me because I just have so much in my head for how this is meant to conclude and just have to get over that one edge to finally ebb into the narrative direction I need this to go (aka follow the path *badum tssssss*). I suppose the story was very much fuelled by my love for G.I. Jane and the dynamic between Jordan O'Neil and John James Urgayle (and Viggo in those short shorts... way too short shorts... damn). At the same time, my aim with this fic is to show not just how tough JB can be and how much ass they can kick together but also how insecure they are beneath the tough surface and how they actually long for something way outside the line of fire.

Train Acquaintances, by contrast, is a rather self-indulgent fic I started to write and was surprised to have found an audience rather fast. I just really liked the theme of trains as a way for two people to meet while at the same time playing with the overly romanticized notion of trains and deconstructing it somewhat. They are a curious means of transportation, to put it mildly. And to then throw in Jaime trying to act smoothly when he is just acting like a dork most of his time was just too delicious to resist. While it’s been a long time (because my computer ate part of a chapter I found really important and that has frustrated me so much, I can’t even tell you), I remain intrigued writing this story because it has a rather distinct mood from what I normally tend to write. And awkward Jaime is just so much fun to write.

Washed Away is one of those fics I am so desperate to get back to that you woudln’t even believe - because it is the one fic most closely tied to the book canon. Its premise is the Lady Stoneheart situation yet to be resolved, wherein Brienne makes a dangerous gamble to save the man she knows is not guilty of the crimes Lady Stoneheart accuses him of, leaving them both to wrestle not just with the dilemmas of this overall situation but also their conflicting vows and feelings for one another.

In the Eyes of the Seven is one of those fics I am yet again very desperate to get back to (yes, I realize I type this sentence far too often, but it is the truth!) but have not yet found a way to bridge between two important plot points, currently creating a gap that keeps me from moving on to the next chapters. It is one of those narrative places where I nerd around freely and explore some mad medley of historical fiction inserted into the history of Westeros, taking up on the runaway nuns of the Reformation period and re-applying it to the Westerosi context by making it about septons and septas instead. While perhaps not a particularly popular story of mine, it is a story I very much enjoy writing as it gives opportunity for lots of introspection, insecurities, and the wish of both characters to break out of the boundaries of the norms set by a static system leaving no room for the likes of the Kingslayer and a woman fancying herself a sword as much as a book or a dress. In general, there are just so many ideas for it inside my head that I really hope to get back on track with that story because there is just so much more I want to tell the readers about in this strange tale.

May the Norns Bind Their Fate strikes a similar tune for me, as I get to gush about my mediocre-at-best knowledge of Norse mythology (albeit a great interest) and yet again change Westeros to my liking to insert the political system of the Viking era into this society (or rather my wacky interpretation thereof). For me, it is both an experiment in terms of perhaps (big perhaps) turning things a bit more heated than I am used to (for Wacky writes no smut, unless it is a literal accident, which only happened, like, once) and diving deep into aspects such as trauma and grief as well as fate and determinacy, since the idea of seers knowing your future has a very distinct appeal in my view, and how knowing one’s “fate” may affect the outcomes of the events. Thus, taking up on the challenge to deal with that in this fic still has me hooked - and I hope I am not the only one.

Last but not least...

An Honorable Man and a Just Woman is a story I am happy to have found an audience because it really gives me something personally to write it. Considering how sadly things played out in the show, I was in dire need of my own little fix-it and have since taken up on the challenge to entertain those questions of what would have changed had Jaime survived, what would be if he were declared King of the Six Kingdoms. Not only does that leave a humbled Jaime trying to find his place in a world he never thought he would see, having seen his ending long before he rode away from Winterfell, but it also leaves him and Brienne with the reality of what it is like to survive when so many died, and how to cope with how they parted and why. And while there are still so many things left unsaid and feelings left unexpressed, one can only hope that those two honorable and just people will eventually find their way around in the new world they are meant to build.

So yeah, I tooted a lot, and I still left out a whole bunch of my weird fanfic children, but those are the ones I feel a great deal of dedication to, even if, admittedly, a lot of them haven’t seen an update in ages. But rest assured, anyone reading this who dared to jump the Wacky train and read along, knowing very well that this strange woman struggles finishing a WIP most of her days, that I am still dedicated to each of those stories (as I am to any story I write). There are simply technicalities and real life not letting me dedicate as much of my time to it as I would need to finally get that final push ahead on a lot of them.

Be it as it may, in the spirit of Glorious Gwendoline Christie, here’s to my shameless self-promotion!

Stay tuned for the next post about the wackiest of Wacky’s wacky creations.

Until then...

Much love! ♥♥♥

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #gwenspiration #wacky writes fanfic #wacky promotes fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #yadda #and I love me mah tags

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radcatcrown · 5 years

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Stephen’s Cosmos

Alternative title: My frustrations with Steven Universe coalesced into form in an AU

So Steven Universe: The Movie came out and after months of slumber, it woke my gripes with the series due to stuff that happened within the movie that irked me. I’ve had my problems with Steven Universe for some time now, and it's not that the movie is the straw the broke the camel's back, but hey, seems like a good time as any to do this.

Statement of Purpose: My main problem with Steven Universe is not an issue of the attempt at redeeming villains, for a dude like myself that grew up on an anime media diet, villains getting turned good is old hat. I’ve seen it better done than SU and worse than SU. The idea that yes, somebody that has done wrong in the past and has recognized the error of their ways has a possibility to atone is a good message. The problem is with SU scale, because of its insistence of going cosmic and having most serious problems have the sake of the world in the balance as an allegory for family issues makes it less credible, and more than a tad reprehensive. So this is an AU that remixes the show to do away with it. Mind you this is just a basic, vague, ranty pitch, probably not going to write out any episodes. We good? Ok. Let's begin.

Premise and Setting: In the interest of cutting down on the ‘epic’ scale of original SU, I’ll have this set mostly on modern-day earth and maybe other realms if necessary. Stephen’s Cosmos would have more of a straight-up magic/fantasy feel than the sci-fi magi-tech the show uses. This is because we’re not using aliens here, we’re using witches. And since we’re going for differences I’ll be using a Floral/herbal naming scheme for these witches, maybe even have them have developed plant-like features, but having them be human women at least as a basis. The backstory would go like so; existing for centuries in the shadows there would be a coven of powerful Witches known as the Chrysanthemum Circle, composed of the Elder Sister; White Chrysanthemum, Middle Sisters; Blue and Yellow/Golden Chrysanthemum and the youngest Red Chrysanthemum. They would rule over a pseudo-amazonian secret island in the middle of the pacific ocean, where they have built a society of witches that work under them, basically for both the preservation of the society itself and for them to be able to live in luxury. Red would be treated as a child by the other three instead of an equal, constantly the victim of abuse and punishment for her oddities in her sister’s eyes. This causes her to run away a few times before burning bridges in an impulsive manner, escaping and taking a few like-minded witches with her, namely her handmaiden and confidant Lily, the mysterious Sunflower, and a few others. Red would shed her imperious persona for a softer, friendlier Pink Rose. From there they would wander the world of man, picking up a young human girl that would come to name herself Carnation. They would settle and build a temple in the small coastal city of Beach City eventually, where they would live until the foreseeable future as the coven of the Wild Flowers. There Pink would find Mr. Universe and things would progress as cannon... except Pink doesn’t need to die here. So we have Pink Rose as part of the secondary cast. The main premise of the story would be to have an episodic structure with monster/problem-of-the-week setups(depending on how much action it makes sense to have in it), slowly integrating Stephen and the Flowers into the quirky town of Beach City, as well as learning lore and having the Flowers help with the strange occurrences in this town. These episodic seasons would get broken up with two-parter season finale to have a nice bombastic event. It would get slightly more serialized as it goes along, more-less the Avatar: The Last Airbender model. There would be a reveal of who Rose is about halfway through where Lily reveals it under dire circumstances and would fragment the Wild Flowers. Why not go with a completely mundane plot? Because flora is pretty, witches are cool and lesbian witches are double cool. (If you must though it's actually not that hard, the Diamonds are an old money/noble family, staunchly elitist and traditionalist, have them be in Europe where they rule over a township. Rose runs away due to similar situations and we’d have her and other runaways come to Beach City and slowly get integrated with ensuing hijinks and slice-of-life situations.)

Characters

Red Chrysanthemum/Pink Rose: Ok this is the big one so we better get it out of the way first. Since she’s going to be around her main impact on the show is actually being able to be there and explain herself but also deal with the fallout of her own choices. Her personality would be very nice, motherly, soft and friendly but in a way that she seems above it all, careless and perhaps a little too hands-off. Her main flaw to be dealt with is her selfishness. Her main arc would be raising Steven, and recognizing other people as her equals that she loves instead of her inferiors to be protected. The secondary arc would be having to deal with the repercussions of her past actions and her secrets.

Stephen: If one’s theme is generational abuse then exploring the next generation is crucial. Stephen would serve as an instigator to get the Flowers closer to the regular human population, and the audience closer to the bizarre and mysterious Wild Flowers. Stephen’s arc or arcs rather would focus on many things, but the main one being on his growth is the best of both worlds, his mother and father’s better qualities without the baggage that brought them into being, having to struggle with his identity between two worlds and the friction therein. He would eventually mature to be better than Pink.

Lily: Lily would be Pearl’s equivalent, a Handmaiden literally sworn to serve Red; now Pink. The first thing that was done after their escape was to break her oath. We’d keep her arc of her having unrequited feelings for Pink, and her issues with her self worth and need for outside stimuli and approval. Her feelings would eventually need to be confronted and her dependency issues would be dealt with by her efforts to own her own person, be well with herself by being independent, and find maybe a new love?

Sunflower: Sunflower would be the fusion between two witches in love, separated by their classes back in the Island; the knightly and flaming Poppy and the serene seer Tulip. They wanted to be together with such fervor that when they were ordered to stay separated due to their social standings they performed a forbidden ritual that bound them both as one sole entity, sort of as a witchy marriage. The Chrysanthemums banned this ritual due to the exponential increase in power between the two participants, fearing it may topple them, so they declared it forbidden and decadent due to the ‘loss of two precious lives to bring in one tortured life’. The ritual cannot be sustained forever and it would be dissolved every new moon, and the preparations to properly perform it take a few days at least. This allows the two cute lesbians to be cute together. There would be parallels between them and the Rose/Lily relationship, but also serve to contrast them. Their arcs would mostly be relationship-based, regarding if they are codependent, if their relationship is healthy, they would have their rough patches and arguments like any married couple and hopefully a second more human wedding.

Amy Thistle Aka Carnation: Carnation would be a neophyte witch kicked out of her foster home due to her magical inclinations. Finding a kindred spirit in their search for freedom Rose takes her under her wing. Carnation turns out to have the more ‘normal’ demeanor of the three witches. She would have parallels with Rose in the sense that even after Stephen’s around she’s treated like the kid and even not a ‘proper’ witch, this results in aggravating the self-worth and self hate issues she had. Rose’s words of ‘you’re perfect as you are’ would soothe her but in the long run, it just put obstacles in her development. She would grow to have frictions with Stephen, but would resolve them together with him.

Connie: Basically the same but make her parents actually overbearing or traditionalist as to make parallels with the Chrysanthemums.

Lavender: A cloudshaper that got caught up in a riot against the Chrysanthemums, was sealed in a mirror until Stephen liberates her accidentally. Once out she lashes out against even the ones that gave her a helping hand. Her way to cope with her own trauma due to being sealed for hundreds of years would be violent and volatile. Her arc would be of her working through that trauma and for her to serve as a MASSIVE red flag for Rose of what her sisters’ deeper sins may be.

Mint: Keep Peridot’s arc and just adjust for lower scale. Her whole arc should be about broken misconceptions about the society outside the Island, and breaking through the behaviors that repressive society has ingrained. Parallels with Rose on that one.

Oak: Oak would have more-less Jasper’s role in the story at large, first as a weapon for the Chrysanthemums and later as a recurring antagonist. Functionally she would begin to show to Rose and the others the consequences of her running away and other past actions since Oak was a member of her former court.

Peony: An original member of the Wild Flowers that was found by Stephen as he messed around with portals. Her conflict with Rose originally would be more-less the same than Bismuth, their ideological differences, in this case, Peony has created a garment that would sever one’s connection with magic, reducing the user to a regular human. As with the original, she would be right in wanting justice and revenge. She wanted to use that to topple the Chrysanthemums and have them face the people’s justice. Rose exiled her before, and kept her secret. When she appears again old wounds are opened, and it is Peony that plants the seeds of direct rebellion within the Wild Flowers.

Townies: Most of these are fine and we don’t need to touch it, there are three major changes to be done though; Kevin, who should get a rehabilitation arc from a douche creep to a decent person, as a sort of practice for Stephen to help everybody else. Lars, since he can no longer be of the Stars, would become a part of the human contingent of Wild Flowers, mostly out of a search for purpose and adventure. Ronaldo would be rehabilitated from a self-important conspiracy buff into another, Dipper Pine’s-ish Wildflower.

The Chrysanthemums: Ok now the big bads. The Chrysanthemums would be aristocratic and authoritarian, capable of atrocities and overall believe themselves to be superior to everybody else. They would be the center of a “Diamond-Days”-esque arc in which Stephen, Rose and the other Wild Flowers go back to the Island with the explicit purpose of changing things for the best. They would need to test the lessons learned by Rose and her growth. General personality for the three? Yellow should be be imperius and ruthless, Blue should feel sublime, like the serene calm for a perpetual storm. White would actually have a god complex; she thinks of herself as perfect and eternal. They have been ‘mourning’ Red since she ran away, but the mourn an idealized version of her, the Red they wish they had lived with. From here during their story arc we would slowly begin to find out that Blue and Yellow act the way they act out of fear, though there is a degree of them that did buy into White’s beliefs. They’ve seen what White is capable and they know they’re not powerful enough even combined. Rose would end up confronting all three of them about the trauma they put her through, not only that but for the combined suffering and pain their rule of repression has caused to the witches in the island. She would reach through to Blue and Yellow… but not White. White reacts how an angry god might. They would manage to repel her and she would become the true antagonist, a goddess ousted from her temple. Blue and Yellow over the course of the next seasons begin to realize the true extent of their actions and set upon trying to fix and atone, but it would be made clear that hundreds of years of oppression cannot be easily wiped away. White herself would end up being defeated, depowered, and put on trial. Ultimately she would be sealed away.

So yeah, that’s it, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#su #steven universe #su critical #steven #universe #AU

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frenchielacreateur · 3 years

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Hello, my Loves!

This week in social media-land starts the introductions to my projects, and we’re starting off with the big’un, the Blank Space.

Most of my focus lately has been on side projects, or my short stories, but that’s only because we’re coming up on Preptober and NaNoWriMo where I will be exclusively writing for the Blank Space, and I want to come at it with fresh eyes.

This is technically my 6th draft of the first book in the series. I’ve been working on Book 1 in some form since 2017’s NaNoWriMo where I won, and exceeded the 50k goal, but never finished the book. Finishing the manuscript didn’t happen until 2019, and I was so high off of writing ‘the end’ that I outlined 3 more books.

Unfortunately, in early 2020, I realized that Book 1 didn’t fit with the others. I cried, picked myself up and decided to write Book 1 to better fit the rest. The others all have themes that carry across. They feel connected, while 1 was isolated and cut off.

However, my re-writing book 1 has been allocated to NaNo season. I have been thinking on what needs to change, what I want to change, and how to go about the implementation, but so far am only half-way into the prologue.

I’ve decided to also re-do certain elements of the story as well as making sure others carry to the other books. The main paranormal element is changed, aspects of the serial killer have changed, and events will be different from the original manuscript as well such as the title which is now Grim Fragments.

So, what can you expect out of Grim Fragments? Well…

The worst monsters in life are the ones of your own creation. Sophia McLellan, a foster child in the idyllic town of Green Glen, Oregon, learns this first hand after breaking mandatory curfew. Her friend, runaway Matthew Radanelli, needs to come home. Sophia and her friends journey out after dark to talk to him.

When they find Matthew's mutilitated corpse in the woods outside town, Sophia's past traumas resurface along with a new creation: the Foul. A mirror image of Sophia with a gaping grin that feeds off Sophia's instabilitites to drive her further into the depths of paranoia and depression.

As she tries to ignore the things taking up vigil in her peripheral vision, Sophia and her friends are being hunted by a mysterious man that wants them all dead. Can Sophia figure out who's trying to slaughter them before she and her friends end up on the coroner's slab?

That pitch is what you can expect from Grim Fragments. It’s a ‘murderer in the woods’ book melded with ‘paranormal’. You’ll come to know soon enough, I’m not a fan of just towing the line. I want to make things new and different.

Full transparency—I feel that this (and the rest of the series) could do well with traditional publishing…however, I want to self-publish. I want the control. I want the payoff when people see what I can do—I don’t want to share the glory and have people think that its because someone ‘marketed me well’. (though, even traditionally published, you do a lot of your own marketing…but whatever…)

But other times, because of the major themes of the series, I don’t think it would do well for trad. Publishing. It focuses heavily on mental illness, how those with MI are treated. Family. Friends. Views of peers, and stigma. Things I’ve dealt with a lot on my own MI journey.

This book is personal. It’s my, in my opinion, magnum opus, and I don’t want a publisher telling me to chop it up in ways that’ll fuck up the rest of the series, you know? Maybe that’s a naive view…

Oh well, everything is in flux. I’ll figure it out—I have time.

There are different creatures in Grim Fragments. The foul, but also the shadows.

The Foul is a being that only Sophia can see. It’s tailored to her—it knows her insecurities and it goes for them like a rabid beast. It is unrelenting.

The shadows, again, are only things Sophia can see. They’re either small jumpy things that scare Sophia by coming at her—or large lumbering blobs that seem to be just…there. The shadows serve to further make Sophia feel ‘insane’.

There is rarely peace for Sophia.

This book will be intense, unsettling, revealing, but also have moments of reality and humor. Last manuscript was around 88 thousand words. I have no idea what this one will end up as, but I’m looking forward to crafting it to have the parts I loved of the first manuscript but improve upon the things I didn’t like as much.

I’ve grown as a writer through writing the first manuscript and feel this next one will be even better than the last.

#horror #horrornovel #horror series #strong female protagonist #excerpt #horror excerpt

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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How Helstrom Became One of Marvel Television’s Last Shows Standing

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Hell hasn’t quite frozen over on the Vancouver set of Marvel’s Helstrom but it’s close. A chill can be felt even inside the fabricated walls of St. Teresa’s Church as Tom Austen, who plays the titular Daimon Helstrom, sits down to talk with the press. It’s February and the show is months from its release date but Austen is already wearing the classic “Marvel leading man undercover” look, with a logo-less black hat atop his head. He’s prepared to discuss many aspects of Marvel’s first horror series, chief among them: just how much fun it is to set things on fire.

“I love the stuff with fire. I would say like over 90 percent of the fire-work that we’ve done has been practical. If there’s fire and Daimon’s standing by it then I’m standing by it. Which has been quite nice shooting outdoors because it’s cold here.”

Helstrom represents plenty of firsts for the Marvel TV universe. It will be the first time a Marvel series has shot in Canada and the first time a Marvel show has been chiefly classified as horror. It’s also set to be the last in many regards. For starters, Austen just might be the last actor to ever set stuff on fire for Marvel Television…and that’s because the entity known as Marvel Television no longer exists.

Last year, Marvel czar Kevin Feige consolidated Marvel’s TV offerings under the Marvel Studios banner, creating a new TV-producing entity known as Marvel TV Studios that could create TV content that fits within the Marvel Cinematic Universe for the newly-arrived Disney+. As part of the transition, Marvel Television (known for Netflix’s The Defenders, Hulu’s Runaways, and ABC’s Agents of SHIELD) was shuttered.

With one stroke of the pen, a half-dozen Marvel Television-produced shows were left in the lurch. Howard the Duck, Tigra & Dazzler, Hit Monkey, and Ghost Rider, which were all in active development for Hulu (which has been controlled by Disney since the Disney-21st Century Fox merger in 2019) were killed. In the end, Marvel decided to move forward with only animated series M.O.D.O.K. and live-action horror drama Helstrom and even then the latter show lost its “Marvel’s Helstrom” original title. Nor has the word “Marvel” appeared anywhere in the show’s advertising campaign. How then did Daimon Helstrom even become one of the last heroes standing for a Marvel era of television that no longer exists?

For starters, the character is used to being an underdog. Though Marvel has historically been willing to mine some lesser-known titles, like Guardians of the Galaxy or The Eternals, for its adaptation purposes, Daimon Helstrom is particularly obscure. The character was created in the ‘70s when Marvel (perhaps wisely) vetoed Stan Lee’s desire to make none other than Satan himself a Marvel superhero. The character was revised to be the son of Satan, known as Daimon Hellstrom (the Hulu series drops the extra “l” in “Hellstrom”), and made his debut in 1973’s Ghost Rider #1. Daimon would go on to get his own brief “Son of Satan” arc in Marvel Spotlight issues 12 through 24. Since then, Daimon has popped up in a couple more runs but never fully took off as a character.

To most, Daimon Hellstrom is best known as the moody magic-user with a Pentagram on his chest and a chariot of three-winged demon horses at his disposal. Despite the Son of Satan’s relatively limited comic history, however, one comic book page was all Helstrom producers needed to be convinced the character had a second life waiting on television.

That one page, from issue 13, captures everything one would need to know about the Helstrom family, as Daimon reads his mother’s diary and discovers that he is the product of a union built on lies and treachery. He has his father’s abilities but no guidance. He is charged with creating his own identity all the while marked with the sign of the devil plainly visible on his chest.

“Look at the building blocks of what (Daimon) is,” co-executive producer Megan Thomas Bradner says. “He’s a demon who has an incredible guilt over his history, over who he is. Maybe the different writers and artists chose not to go down that path, but it all starts with the stuff that they gave us.”

Helstrom is a more grounded and realistic take on the character that delves deeper into his sense of isolation and pain. This Helstrom is the son of a serial killer father (according to the show’s synopsis at least) and a mother (Elizabeth Marvel’s Victoria) who lost her mind and now lives, restrained, in a padded cell inside St. Teresa’s hospital wing. As an adult, Helstrom now lives in Portland and works as an exorcist of sorts, all the while dealing with the trauma of an interrupted family life. There are no tights, no magical tridents, and no demonic horses… probably… maybe…

“They’re going to be ponies actually,” Austen quips.

He does have a physical scar, in addition to his emotional ones. And that scar just may or may not resemble a Pentagram but it’s hard to say. Daimon keeps getting a tattoo over it but the tattoos quickly fade away. Makeup Artist Cindy L. Barlow says she knows where to place the scar on Austen’s back by tracing his freckles before applying the adhesive in a 10-15 minute process. Austen likes to peel it off at the end of each work day.

“You’re supposed to gently remove it but that’s not as fun,” Barlow says.

Daimon’s life has reached a fragile equilibrium as the series begins. Though he chiefly works as an Ethics Teacher at Gateway University (which makes a brief appearance in the comics), he also uses his supernatural abilities gleaned from “The Shadow Side” to assist St. Teresa’s and other interested parties in demon removal. To aid in that mission, he is supported by Dr. Louise Hastings (June Carryl), head of the psychiatric hospital within St. Teresa’s where Daimon’s mother Victoria is committed.

“(Dr. Hastings) acts as a kind of surrogate mom for Daimon,” Austen says. “She’s one of the first people to become aware of his abilities and tries to channel those for him to do some good.”

“There is a practicality to Louise that I think gets a workout,” Carryl adds of her character. “Walking that line is interesting. When something kind of goes off the rails and into another realm there’s a ‘huh, okay. I’m going to have to put that in the hopper. And it’s going to pop for a minute and we’ll deal with it later.’”

Another one of Daimon’s allies is Gabriella Rossetti (Ariana Guerra), a young agent sent by the Vatican to assist Daimon with his demonic issues. While everyone involved in Helstrom has old source material to sort through, Guerra decided to check out some even older texts to prepare to be an agent of the Church.

“I was reading the Bible every day,” Guerra says. “I was going to church maybe like two or three times a week, just to kind of feel connected and to appreciate the rigidness of it and not see it as a chore. For a while I was like, ‘Mom, I think I’m going to convert.’ But then all of a sudden I started having a lot of Catholic guilt. So I had to just step away.”

The presence of the Catholic Church in Helstrom indicates just how big, old, and elemental the forces at play are. And if this is all starting to sound a little like The Exorcist, that’s by design.

“I think there’s fun stuff in there for Marvel fans, whether you are a comic fan or a TV fan. But if you also are just a fan of horror, you can come to this too,” Bradner says.

This is the kind of production where (disturbingly anatomically correct) rubber corpses lie haphazardly on stretchers outside of offices. It’s the kind of production where the props team likes to note that they’re working on “human meat cubes” and that they’ve got a “bin full of thumbs.” It’s horror through and through.

All that horror is a lot for any one Son of Satan and his Vatican agent buddy to deal with. And that’s where Ana Helstrom comes in.

For as little Daimon Helstrom source material that the show has to work with, there is even less to go off of for his superpowered sister—the sultry Satana. In the comics, Satana’s key features are a profound love for her father and an even more profound distaste for modest clothing.

“I said, ‘Oh, okay. So we’re going to be using wigs and prosthetic body parts apparently.’ That was an overwhelming sight,” Ana actress Sydney Lemmon says of seeing the comic version of her character.

“My Ana Helstrom is a little different though,” she adds.

For one, Satana is now simply Ana. Ana Helstrom works as an art and antiquities dealer at her own San Francisco auction house who uses the selling of swords owned by Napoleon Bonaparte and ancient Sumerian daggers as a jumping off point for her own brand of demonic justice. Lemmon (who is Jack Lemmon’s granddaughter and was recently seen in a crucial arc on Fear the Walking Dead) appreciates the role that legacy plays in crafting Ana’s psyche.

“I was really, really drawn in by the intense family dynamics happening between all of the Helstrom family members,” Lemmon says. “It’s fraught and turbulent and then when you add in the element of superpowers, it’s a done deal.”

Just as Daimon has his own helpers in the form of Gabriella and Hastings, Ana too has her allies. One is Chris Yen (Alain Uy), Ana’s business partner and surrogate brother figure in Daimon’s absence.

“Chris is a very in-control type of person and likes things in this specific way,” Uy says. “In some ways that is the yin to Ana’s yang. It literally feels like a brother-sister relationship. Listen: I don’t know if you’ve got brothers or sisters, but I do and there’s definitely like a rivalry there, but it’s a healthy rivalry.”

Like many a Marvel sidekick, Chris Yen will become embroiled in some of the more intense and interesting aspects of Ana’s life, bringing the pair into contact with another one of Ana’s friends, Caretaker (played by The Wire’s Robert Wisdom).

As the name implies, Caretaker has close ties to the dead and all manner of dark magic. The character is one of the few Helstrom supporting figures who has a comic book presence and has previously been played by none other than Sam Elliott in the 2007 Ghost Rider film.

“If you’re familiar with New York, you know about the third rail on the subway. In the sense, Caretaker is working in two dimensions,” Wisdom says. “He’s up on the platform and he’s holding the third rail. He’s one of the few that can conduct that energy without snapping. That’s the tensile strength that I’ve given him.”

Wisdom describes Caretaker as a Nick Fury type, and also as a father-figure and guardian for Ana.

Daimon and Ana Helstrom clearly aren’t hurting for paternal and maternal figures in their life, which is fortunate given the fate of their real parents. Though the siblings’ father is understandably not an announced part of the cast yet, Victoria Helstrom is set to play a big role haunting the pair’s lives, even from within the dismal confines of her padded prison.

Elizabeth Marvel (no relation to…well, Marvel) took on the role of Victoria in part due to her teenage son being deeply steeped in the Marvel entertainment universe. Though she quickly found other aspects of her character and the show at large to appreciate.

“It’s incredibly satisfying and creatively wonderful. It’s just actor candy all the time,” she says. “We work through a lot of issues, a lot of pain on this show. There’s a lot of dealing with the past and childhood trauma, and where, as a parent, your responsibility is, and how can you control and care for your children when circumstances are overwhelming?”

Victoria’s circumstances couldn’t possibly be more overwhelming. As indicated in the series’ first trailer, there’s a pretty compelling, pretty demonic reason that Victoria has been institutionalized for 20 years. As such, the character’s environs are as bleak as they come in the Helstrom world, though it comes with some actorly benefits

“We love going to visit, because the entire room is padded. So we all lie down,” Austen says.

“Yes. We do a little yoga while they set up lights,” Marvel adds.

Downtime for family yoga is few and far between on set but the Helstroms have done their best to create a familial environment amid all the blood, fire, and severed thumbs. And they’re hoping that chemistry and those themes of family and trauma appeal to Marvel fans looking for something new.

“I don’t think that anything that Marvel’s put out is quite like what we’re making,” Lemmon says. “I cannot wait for people to get to see this grounded, fantastical story that we’ve crafted. It looks so much like life, but has such magical elements. It feels like new ground for Marvel, and it’s such an honor to be a part of.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Who knows what the future holds for Helstrom as Marvel casts its eye towards Loki, WandaVision, The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, and more. For now, however, Daimon, Ana, and a whole cadre of demons are prepared to liven up Hulu’s October. Perhaps that’s why Daimon Helstrom was the last hero standing for Marvel Television. Somebody had to bring a spooky edge to the proceedings before the lights went out for good…and it might as well be the Son of Satan.

The post How Helstrom Became One of Marvel Television’s Last Shows Standing appeared first on Den of Geek.

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Criminal Minds S07E07 “There’s No Place Like Home”

Episode 07 – There’s No Place Like Home

Hey guys!

So, I am kind of excited about this episode, because the title is implying tornadoes, storms and chaos, oh my. And also some amazing references that I am hoping will crop up - fingers crossed ...

So without any further ado, my pretties.

Let’s see what unfolds and let’s prance down the yellow brick road towards murder.

“Finally got him down.”

“The Ibuprofen must have kicked in.”

“It’s about some missing kids.”

“Please don’t walk away like that.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know this is hard on you. On all of us.”

“Look, if I had someone to cover my shifts, I would.”

“What if it was Henry?”

“What if it was?”

“You’d want someone out there looking for him.”

“I wasn’t helping anyone there, Will.”

“Fine, I’ll tell them I can’t come in.”

“I was supposed to have time off.”

“Henry’s not feeling well.”

“You don’t have to be here.”

“Ah, I get antsy when I’m gone too long.”

“And thanks for the team’s donation to ALS in Carolyn’s name. She would have appreciated it.”

“So how are you doing?”

“I’m okay. It’s funny, though. We were divorced 20 years. And I never missed her as much as I do right now.”

“Hey, you. Welcome back.”

“Good to be back, Penelope.”

I love their friendship.

“We’re ready when you are, sir.”

“The bodies of two unidentified boys were found near Wichita, Kansas, a week apart.”

“Both were Caucasian and between the ages of fifteen and seventeen.”

“They were each found mangled in the aftermath of a tornado.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what did them in. The ME has determined that the case of death was blunt force trauma to the head before the storms hit.”

“Well, the death blow in each case was in almost exactly the same spot.”

“Now, what about all the other damage to their bodies? Some of their limbs are missing.”

“Yeah, victim number one, his right leg was taken off. Victim number two, both arms were severed. But was that because of the tornado or the unsub?”

“The ME still hasn’t discovered that. He’s a busy guy. Major storms have hit the area. 23 dead. The morgue is slammed.”

“It fits the unsub. He’s got a hell of a sadistic streak.”

“Well, a tornado would clear the air and give the unsub the privacy to do his thing.”

“He may be using the storm as the body disposition modality. Forensic countermeasure, wind, hail, rain, mother nature destroys the crime scene.”

“Or he wants us to think mother nature actually committed the murders.”

“What concerns me is the brief periods between kills.”

“Only a week. He’s moving fast.”

“We need to move faster. Garcia, get me IDs on all the victims.”

“I’m a gale-force wind.”

“Wheels up in thirty.”

“Oh, and pack for foul weather.”

“The forecast is nasty.”

George Gissing: “For the man sound of body and serene of mind, there is no such thing as bad weather. Every day has its beauty. And storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously.”

“Right in the middle of tornado alley.”

“If this unsub is using tornadoes as a forensic countermeasure, then Kansas certainly is the ideal setting.”

“Tornadoes do pose a significant threat.”

“During this year’s super outbreak back in April, there are 336 confirmed tornadoes in just several days, resulting in over 300 lives lost.”

Ding dong

“Hey. Tell us something good, mama.”

“Okay, I’ve IDed your victims. I’m putting this all on your tablets if you’d like to follow along.”

“First up is Jason Meredith, 16-year-old runaway from Garden City, Kansas. Mom said he took off over a year ago.”

“Next up is Eric Janelle, 15-year-old kid form Wichita. He’s been gone three weeks.”

“Oh, both of these kids have records for possession and prostitution.”

“They were street hustlers.”

“At-risk teens. This could be a sexual predator.”

“An extremely violent one if the unsub is responsible for the damage done to the bodies, especially those missing limbs.”

“Well, now, he could be keeping the body parts for some sort of fetish.”

“Oh, okay, eew. That is my cue.”

“I’m here if you need me with my binary machines that don’t say gross things.”

She’s so cute!

Is he praying? Oh Rossi.

“I didn’t know you were a bad flyer.”

“I’m not. I just hate turbulence.”

“You know, turbulence very rarely causes planes to crash.”

“That does me absolutely no good at the moment.”

“Thank you.”

“What we really need to worry about are microbursts, sudden downbursts of air associated with thunderstorms.”

Someone needs to shield my poodle from this angry stallion.

“But a small craft like this, if we hit one of those at the wrong attitude

–

pulverized.”

Oh Reid.

“I beg of you to make him stop.”

JJ already has Will and Henry to deal with, why add poodle to her list of worries?

“Well, the unsub definitely has his own mode of transportation. This is way up the beaten path.”

“And the first victim, Jason Meredith, was found over thirty miles away.”

“You say you were able to clear this place before the storm hit?”

“I didn’t know you could do that for tornadoes.”

“Okay, so the unsub either found a way in or he was already here and he hid during the evacuation.”

“That, or the body got sucked up into the funnel cloud and was thrown there from someplace else.”

“Either way, he came into close contact with this storm. Maybe even close enough to put himself in danger.”

“Or he waited someplace safe for it to pass and came back and dumped the body.”

“No, I think the storm itself actually means something to this guy.”

“You don’t think he’s just using it to cover his tracks?”

“I played ball in college with a guy from Indiana. He said he and his boys used to get drunk and then chase storms. Said it was the closest they could get to the true power of God.”

“Okay, so he’s impulsive, probably young, maybe a loner with nothing to lose.”

“We should be looking at actual storm-chasers.”

“Where can we find them?”

“They mostly work with the university.”

Well, crap.

“You think this guy’s educated.”

“Well, he knows enough about the weather to use it to his advantage.”

“So far it’s working.”

“Here you go.”

“When was the last time you saw Jason?”

“Do you know why he would leave home?”

“And how did Jason cope with that?”

“So it sounds like you and Eric were pretty good friends.”

“Your foster mom said that you used to get in a lot of fights before Eric got there.”

“So he looks out for you.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“We found him a couple of days ago.”

“He took the news about Eric pretty well.”

“Tough kid.”

“I guess they have to be. They’re all alone.”

“Each of the victims had a strong protective instinct and was looking out for somebody else besides themselves.”

“Maybe the unsub is keying on that.”

“Boys like that are hard to fool.”

“What if he used to be one of them?”

“I mean, those kids would see right through someone trying to be a poseur.”

“If his MO is connected to the weather, he’s gonna try to grab another boy soon.”

“Identical blows to the head.”

“They had alcohol and dextromethorphan in their systems?”

“It’s cough syrup.”

“It’s a cheap high, if you can steal it.”

“And these two had a whole lot of it on board.”

“What were you able to from all the damage to the bodies?”

“Mostly?”

“I’m guessing with an axe or a cleaver.”

“Cut off postmortem.”

“They both have ligature marks on their wrists and ankles, at least what they have left of them.”

“He held them before the kill.”

“Was there any sign of sexual assault?”

Nope. Even if there were, the tornado probably cleaned it up real good.

“So, he guts them drunk and high, he restrains them, kills them, and cleaves off a limb as a souvenir.”

“Then he dumps the body and lets the storm clean up his mess.”

“But why the souvenir?”

“What or who, exactly, is he trying to remember?”

“Okay, time to go.”

And get out of that creepy morgue with the sandwich-eating ME who handles dead people and eatsd in the same room .... gross.

“Name’s Gary Dyson. Sixteen. Runaway from Kansas City.”

“This particular area get hit with a tornado last night?”

“The weather’s gotta be the trigger.”

“He’s following the patterns.”

“We track the storms, we find the unsub.”

“Forensic evidence has been washed away. But behaviorally, it’s the most intact crime scene we’ve encountered so far.”

“It’s the same blow to the head, but no cuts, no abrasions.’

“Except he’s missing his torso.”

“It was only a matter of time before he missed one.”

“Tornadoes are extremely unpredictable and sometimes last only a matter of minutes before they dissipate.”

“The fact that he was able to leave his previous victims directly in the path of one is astounding.”

“So the conditions were perfect last night, but his tornado never came.”

“It’s only been four days.”

“He’s accelerating.”

“And the weather’s driving him to do it.”

“Guys, we know that fetishists are loyal to the body parts they take, but I think that this unsub is loyal to the whole of these parts.”

“If you were to take the missing pieces from all the victims so far, you could almost assemble an entire body.”

“So he’s not taking bodies apart, he’s putting one together.”

Yup.

“We’re looking for a white male in his mid- to late-20s. He’s mobile and he travels great distances to follow storms.”

“He’s probably in a tuck or a van.”

“We believe he may live in that vehicle. It’s probably beat up, maybe rusted from the elements.”

“Sorry.”

“Jeffrey Dahmer, serial killer, was under the illusion that he could create young male sex zombies that wouldn’t resist his advances.”

“And when Dahmer’s test subjects died, he kept their body parts souvenirs.”

“Skulls, hearts, even genitalia.”

“Restoring body parts is no small task. They’re gonna get ripe fast.”

“He needs lots of ice, salt, maybe, something to preserve them.”

“And he’s paying for all that stuff somehow. Gas, too.”

Uh-oh.

“He doesn’t have the social skills to hold a job for long, so he’s most likely a day laborer, handyman, anything transitory.”

“We think he’s using the weather as a forensic countermeasure to destroy evidence, but we also think he might be some sort of symphoraphiliac.”

“Sorry, symphora what?”

I’m with that cop.

“Uh, excuse me.”

“Symphoraphiliacs – they’re sexually aroused by disasters.”

“Usually fires or traffic accidents. In this case, the weather must enhance his excitement.”

“He hunts street kids, so he may be from a similar background.”

“And he’s most likely uneducated, but he’s still charming enough to engage his victims.”

“We’ll talk to the press.”

“You should warn any transient kids you might know.”

“As this weather gets worse, so will the unsub.”

“Since when is a seizure fine?”

“But his fever broke.”

“Did you give his medicine this morning?”

“Did he feel warm?”

“Well, you checked, right?”

“Nothing. I … where is he now?”

“Okay. I’ll call you when my flight arrives.”

“Henry’s sick. I’m coming home.”

“Call you later?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh, it’s Henry. He had a whole seizure.”

“Will took him to the ER. He … he’s fine.”

“Apparently, it’s totally normal.”

“Look, I gotta get back home.”

“Of course.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Can I borrow the jet?”

“I think the budget oversight committee might not appreciate my generosity.

“Yeah, well, worth a shot, right?”

“Check in and let us know everything’s all right.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Hey, Hotch.”

“I’ve been thinking … the vast majority of unsub with this type of MO aren’t driven by the killing.”

“They’re really fascinated by the body parts.”

“Psychologically they exist in a realm where fantasy meets delusion. It’s basically the perfect blueprint for the creation of a serial killer …”

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Should probably get to the point.”

“I think I know how this unsub may have gotten started.”

“All right, the first victim was found missing his right leg, the second, both arms, and the third had no torso.”

“So that leaves the left leg unaccounted for.”

“We can assume the head would be the most difficult piece to find.”

“That part would have to fit an unsub’s fantasy perfectly.”

“So he’d most likely save it for last.”

“Now, what that tells us is there’s a victim out there we haven’t found yet who’s missing his left leg.”

“Or the unsub hasn’t acquired it yet.”

“True, but most body part collectors evolve to this level, and in many cases they exhume bodies for parts before they start killing.”

“All right, let me call Garcia.”

“So you think our unsub did the same thing.”

Was my poodle’s lecture unclear?

“PG at your service, don’t let the name fool you.”

“Baby girl, you’re on speaker.”

“Garcia, can you look for grave robberies in tornado alley over the last five years?”

“Okey-dokey.”

“Searching.”

“Oh. That’s a shockingly big list.”

“Who knew grave-robbing was so on trend?”

“How many of those involve the bodies of teenage boys?”

“Uh …”

“None.”

“What about morgues and funeral homes?”

“Momentito …”

“Again, that is a list that should not be that big.”

“Mostly stolen embalming fluid, though.”

“It’s often used like PCP, Garcia.”

“I’m feeling optimistic about the youth of America.”

“There are no teenagers involved in this either.”

“All right, try looking for thefts involving body parts, specifically left legs.”

“Okay, ew! See, this is why I can’t talk about how my day was at dinner.”

“Breakfast, lunch.”

“Spencer, you scare me.”

“Join the club.”

Ha.

Hey!

“A left leg was stolen off a body a year ago at the Riggio Funeral Home in Tulsa.”

“They never found who did it.”

“Garcia, what was the weather like in the area at the time?”

“Uh, thunderstorms and tornadoes.”

Yup.

“An F2 cyclone hit right around there, and then the robbery took place after they evacuated.”

“It’s gotta be our unsub.”

“Wait, there’s more.”

“The guy whose leg was stolen, he was a 47-year-old father of two who died of leukemia.”

“That’s a huge jump.”

“Preferential child sex offenders don’t usually stray from their preferred age range.”

“It’s not about the sex at all.”

“He used the body from the funeral home to develop his MO so he could live out his fantasy and kill in a storm.”

“Whatever it is, this unsub won’t stop until he finds a perfect head.”

“That’s the final piece to his puzzle.”

“Hey. Thought you were out of here.”

“Flights are canceled ‘cause of the weather.”

“How’s Henry?”

“He’s headed home. Finally released him.”

Finally.

“That’s great news.”

“Where are you guys off to?”

“To the university to talk to some storm chasers.”

“Stay dry.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Who’s that with Hotch?”

“There’s been another abduction.”

“A boy named Shaun Rutledge. That’s his younger brother Billy.”

“He says a young white guy with an RV attacked him with a crowbar in the rain.”

“He’s also changed his victim selection criteria.”

“The boy he grabbed gets straight As, plays football, even volunteers at his church.”

“So he wanted him so badly, he was willing to leave a witness?”

“Which suggests he’s losing touch with reality and his delusions are starting to take over.”

“What is it about this kid that was so attractive to him?”

“He was teenage and Caucasian like the others, right?”

“We also think that a sexual element may actually not be at play.”

So then what the hell is driving this guy?”

“Maybe it’s love.”

“What if he’s trying to recreate someone he loves?”

“It is an emotion that drives us to extremes.”

“If he’s trying to recreate someone, it’s probably somebody he loved and lost.”

“Wait. You said he was with his big brother, right?”

“Holla at your girl.”

“Baby girl, I need those great big beautiful brains of yours.”

“Jazz hands ready. Gimme.”

“Okay, look at all the teenage male victims or tornadoes in the last ten years. Same geography as before.”

“That would be male, 13 to 18 … 42.”

“How many victims had younger brothers that survived/”

“Uh … ten.”

“The unsub might have been a high-risk kid.”

No shit.

“Garcia, how many of the survivors have criminal records?”

“I got two for you.”

“First up is 27-year-old Justin Harris, had a DUI in 2008. Next is 22-year-old Travis James.”

“Ooh, little troublemaker. Shoplifting, possession, and prostitution. Oh, my.”

“And all when he was a minor.”

“You got a home address or a vehicle registered in his name?”

“Uh-uh. None.”

“You got a photo on this guy?”

“It’s on your tablet right now.”

“All right, this is a composite sketch from the description the kid gave.”

“Old school.”

Huh? What’s going on?

“Oh, my God. This poor kid.”

“In 2001, Travis James lost his big brother Tucker and his mom Jan when a tornado hit the McCleary Trailer Park in Enid, Oklahoma.”

“So our guy’s a local.”

Oops.

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Hang on, Garcia. The power just went out.”

“Garcia, I think we’re good. Keep going.”

“Sometime before this evil tornado touched down, Travis, along with five other boys, testified against a one Roscoe Gulch.”

“For what?”

“It appears that this Gulch character was a notorious pedophile in the area, and he was a resident of the same trailer park as Travis and his family.”

“It looks like brother Tucker had confronted this Gulch person lots of times. He even broke the creep’s nose once.”

“He was protecting his little brother.”

Cutie.

“Oh. And then the plot thickens. According to a statement from Travis, right after Gulch was acquitted, he and his brother went to Gulch’s mobile home.”

“Travis said he saw the mobile home get swallowed up by the tornado. And when he came out there was nothing left.”

“He was found in pieces. It took his DNA and dental records to ID him.”

“Travis went into foster care and he was reported missing in 2003. He ran away.”

“Ten years ago his brother got ripped apart, and now he’s trying to put him back together?”

Frankenstein, anyone?

This reminds me of something.

“But why start killing now?”

Good question.

“Garcia, send me current weather reports for the area, including radar images if you have them.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

“It is on your tablets.”

“With the weather in the area, he’s going to be so excited, he won’t wait.”

“He’ll take the boy to the closest area with the most activity.”

“That’s right around here, just southeast of us.”

“It’s Frankenstein.”

“What?”

“The unsub isn’t trying to put his brother back together, he’s trying to bring him back from the dead.”

“He believes that tornadoes have the power to take life, so conversely, they should have the power to restore it.”

“We’ll pick up Rossi and Prentiss on the way. Let’s go.”

“Garcia, what have you got?”

“Sir, I found your trigger.”

“A year ago, a tornado ripped through a cemetery near Tulsa. One of the 53 graves that was disturbed was that of Tucker James.”

“His brother was killed by a storm, then his memorial was destroyed by one.”

“Now he’s using both to build a memorial of his own.”

“Now that he has that boy’s head, the delusion will completely to take over.”

“Garcia, those storm chasers at the university we talked to, they should be out in full force.”

“I’m sending you their number now. Tell them to be on the lookout for the unsub’s RV.”

“And, Garcia, patch into their radio chatter.”

“They’ll know where the storms are.”

“On it, my pretties.”

“We need to head into those areas with the most precipitation.”

“So make a right at the next intersection.”

“It should be Pawnee Road.”

“Hey, how exactly are we supposed to chase this storm?”

“The unsub won’t actually chase the storm.”

“To get close to it, you have to get in front of it.”

“It’s a little like playing chicken.”

It’s official, I iam un-American ... I have no idea what playing chicken is ... is that like when a kid is being stupid an drunning after something that might hurt it andx then running away? Oh, I get it, cuz chickens are stupid ... oh my god ,I cannot believe I had to actually think about this.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“It’s frozen.”

“Hey, Hotch. We just lost the internet.”

Worst thing to ever happen.

“I’m frozen up, too.”

“The weather must be affecting the upload.”

“I’m patching Garcia in.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Garcia, we just lost our internet and we need you to guide us into the storm.”

“Consider me your eyes and ears, sir.”

“Okay, guys, a twister has been spotted near Rose Hill just south of your position. The storm-chaser dudes are calling it a landspout.”

“We don’t want that one. Landspout tornadoes are relatively insignificant.”

“Where to, then?”

“Garcia, look for hook echoes on your monitor.’

“Hey, hook echoes.”

“Yeah. Okay, I’m gonna do that.”

“Just tell me what they are.”

“They’re swirling hook-like radar signatures that look surprisingly like what you’d expect them to.”

“Okay. Uh …”

“No, I don’t see anything like that.”

“They’ll likely form in those red and violet areas on the map.”

“I don’t see anything that looks even remotely like that.”

“Okay, they shouldn’t be too far from our current positions. He’s close.”

“Oh, God.”

“No, wait ...”

“Wait, yes!”

“Yes, I see it.”

“Oh, that’s gotta be it. Yes, ye…”

She’s just the cutest thing ever!

“Where, Garcia?”

“Oh, no, no.’

That’s never good.

“What? What is it?”

“There are two.”

“We’ll have to split up.”

“Which way, Garcia?”

“Uh, okay. Half of you can stay in your current heading.”

“The other half, make a … right on Meadowlark Road.”

“Morgan, take Meadowlark Road. We’ll keep going.”

“Got it.”

“Hey, I just got a hit from the storm-chaser dudes on the RV. You guys are the closest.”

GPS - Garcia Positioning System ... sorry .. I just couldn’t help myself.

“Where are we talking, Garcia?”

“Heading east on Summer Road just north of your position, make a left on Prairie Creek.”

“It’s the next left.”

“You got it.”

“Hang on, guys.”

Uh oh, reckless Derek driving!

“What’s that up there? Near the old house.”

Whoops, poodle spotted something with his little eye.

“Travis James, FBI!”

“Put the weapon down!”

“We can’t do that, Travis.”

“Just let Shaun go and we can work this out.”

“That’s his name, you know.”

“He has a little brother, too.”

“We know you saw them when you attacked them.”

“Travis, Tucker would not want this. He would want to protect you like he did with Roscoe Gulch. Just let him go and we can help you.”

“I’m telling you, we need to cover now!”

Yeah, no kidding, dude!

“Come on, man, put the weapon down!”

“Put it down!”

.... The fuck did we just witness?

Did that twister just sweep a dude? FUCK!

At least they saved the kid.

Here’s how my honeys deal with a Gale-force twister:

Arthur Golden: “Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.”

Aww, momma bear is callin ghome, I love JJ so much.

“So the weather’s supposed to break tomorrow. I should be home sometimes in the afternoon.”

“I’ll call and let you know for sure.”

“Yeah. Sort of. It’s kind of weird.”

“I’m … I’m fine. It’s just … been a really long day.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry about everything.”

“So, uh, is he still up?”

I love this kid!

“Hi! Hi, little man.”

“How … how are you?”

“I heard you, um, you went to the doctor.”

“Not yet, buddy. Tomorrow. I promise.”

“So, are you ready for story time?”

“Yeah? Okay.”

“Daddy, you ready?”

Daddy is ready.

“Bedtime for Baby Star.”

“Once there was a Baby Star, he lived up near the sun. and every night at bedtime, that Baby Star wanted to have some fun. He would shine and shine and fall and twinkle, oh, so bright, and he said, ‘Mommy, I’ll run away if you make me say good night’. And then his mommy kissed him on his sparkly nose and said, ‘No matter where you go, no matter where you are, no matter how big you grow, and even if you stray far … I’ll love you forever, ‘cause you’ll always be my Baby Star’.”

“Good night.”

This is the cutest kid in the world! (Aside from Jack Hotchner)

So this episode was all over the place - I was fearful for Henry’s health, for my pretties handling that weirdo in the tornado - that dude getting torn apart by that twister! Oh my! Also, the many - many - references from Garcia just made my day and the reference to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was pretty cool ... and lest we not forget that all the parents awards go to JJ and Will ... they really should tie the knot, they’re so cute together!

As ever, thank you ever so much for keeping up with my inconsistency in publishing these posts ... I’m just trying to get my shit together with these and I’m seriously lagging behind because my work (currently a call center representative taking messages for over 5,000 different companies) is demanding and toll-taking and sometimes I’m just not in the mood to review my facve show ... BLASPHEMY!

So I’mt rying to get back on track.

LOVE YOU GUYS

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mileycfan4eva33 · 4 years

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Fandom: SVU

Title: Covenant From The Heart

Chapter 1: Violent Moment

P O V: Amanda Rollins

(A/N: Noah, Jessie, Billie do not exist in this fic. I own nothing except my ideas and original characters. All others belong to Wolf Entertainment and NBC.)

Saturday, June 2020

Christopher Street, New York, NY

"I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words

how wonderful life is while you're in this world."

The radio plays as I sit inside the back of the Covenant House Van across from my Captain Olivia Benson, along with two trained Crisis Counselors from Covenant House, New York. Andrea O'Sullivan and Robert "Bobby J" Rodriquez. "Thanks for coming again with me, Amanda."

My smile is tight as I look back at Olivia there is a sadness in her eyes as we turn towards each other. "You're welcome, Liv, did Kat give any reason as to why she couldn't make it tonight?" "her mom has to work a double, and they couldn't find a babysitter last minute on a Saturday."

"Yeah, I hear that could be hard." Olivia sips her coffee, trying to keep warm. "I never mind helping Captain. Covenant House is such an amazing place Olivia, I'm always happy to volunteer for whatever they need."

"Thank you, detective Rollins we try. It isn't easy when we have 20,494 youth who are homeless." Andy's statement sends tremors down my spine. I try to hide the fact that I am shivering, as a cop, I knew those statistics. The number of homeless children in the United States is at its highest in more than a decade.

I can even break down the statistics that roughly 800,000 children are reported missing each year in the United States that's 2,000 kids who go missing every day in the USA. There are 115 child stranger abduction cases, LGBTQ youth represent as much as 40% of the homeless youth population. Between 1.6-2.8 million youth runaway each year in the United States. Children can begin running as young as ages 10-14. The youngest are the most at-risk for the dangers of street life.

Too many people take the attitude of Children who runaway make their own decisions to go. Let them be, they've made their personal choice and must deal with the consequences. If they want to come home, they will. That is so wrong because once these kids hit the streets, they have hours of reaching an inner-city before they become targets for these pimps. Once the pimps get their hands on these kids, they no longer have a choice. They are property of those pimps, and these monsters would take a bullet before they lose their 'product.' It is estimated that many young people, especially girls, begin engaging in survival sex within 48 hours of leaving home. Sex for food and a place to stay can quickly escalate into formalized prostitution.

I've seen what happens to those kids after becoming branded; they learn quickly to harden themselves and trust no one. The treacherous environment in which they must learn to survive is heartbreaking. They do not always outwardly present as sympathetic victims. They also frequently suffer from short–term and long–term psychological effects such as depression, self-hatred, and feelings of hopelessness. These child victims also need specialized services that are not widely available given they often have illnesses, drug addictions, physical and sexual trauma, lack of viable family and community ties, and total dependence—physical and psychological—on their abusers.

"Amanda, do you want some coffee?" "no, thanks, Liv, I'm good." "Sure you are; that's why I can see those goosebumps on your arms, Rollins." Olivia's left-hand grazes across my left arm, which she has now caused to go stiff in fear. Olivia's touch, smile Liv has no idea how she effects me.

Every hair is standing at attention, my heart racing, face flushed. My brain stutters to find words to respond to Olivia. It should be simple to say those words to tell Olivia how I feel; this is 2020, not 1990. I shouldn't be afraid of rejection to tell someone I have a deep crush on that I have a crush. I've told more than a half of a dozen women in my past that I liked them. I am not ashamed to identify as a lesbian.

Which brings me to question why I haven't confided in anyone I have worked with over the past nine years. Swallow Amanda, just swallow and relax. Olivia has no idea how you feel; she isn't asking you to spill how you feel. She's asking you for a drink stop freaking out you'll look like a fool.

"No, I'm good save the coffee for the kids, they need it more than I do. I'm okay."

"Detective Rollins we have more than enough." that's a lie I know before it even escapes Andy's lips she's just being nice to us since it's rare for cops to volunteer to do ride a long's, the department does not sanction them. 1PP truthfully goes out of their way to discourage us from doing them because they are so dangerous because these pimps could recognize one of us and blow our covers in the future. Sometimes I think they fear we will become too sympathetic with a homeless kid because God forbid NYPD cops be human and understand what life on the streets is actually like; we might let these kids go when indeed we are forced to pick them up for simply trying to stay alive.

Saturday nights are one of the busiest nights in New York City, especially for the homeless population in our impact zones. Turning down Bleeker Street, which is alive with nightclubs blaring music. Flashing neon signs obnoxiously calling out $2 dance bars—other signs signaling their bars, clubs, stores. Panhandlers line every corner, many with bloodshot eyes, sniffling noses, and scanning the crowd from our blackened windows. I can see swindlers working in pairs trying to rob the tourists who unsuspectingly stroll among them the glittering, neon buildings. Many are walking with cell phones out, looking for directions.

Olivia and I both exchange a look knowing half of them will be robbed. There's so much we both want to say but don't. Drug deals go down in plain sight to the untrained eye. It would be easily missed, in between the blaring lights and smells of Colombian bakeries, beauty salons, Mexican restaurants, and bars like the Gentlemen's Club advertising beautiful female dancers. People along this stretch of road hand out business cards emblazoned with half-naked women or fruits and flowers all that advertise "Free Delivery" and typically list the hours of operation between 10:30 a.m. and 2:30 a.m. It's a cover, of course, the cards are marketing tools of brothels that have set up shop inside private homes and apartments.

As the hour is growing later, the tourists are fading away; the clubs are starting to shut down, and the other Christopher Street, the one never mentioned in magazines, or featured on the nightly news and morning talk shows comes alive. This is our Christopher Street teens strutted past in the dark, often stopping to air kiss, catcall, or sometimes brawl.

Young LGBTQ youth in platform thigh-high boots, buttocks-revealing denim shorts, red-pleather boleros with matching caps and tops of the backless, sleeveless, or even frontless variety, those on the nightly parade here do anything but hide. They compete for best outfit, /best moves in nightly dance battles that rage beside the Hudson River to the sound of a boombox on the pier at the end of the street.

The teens are beautiful, but the night-life here is ugly, violent, and scary; the teens themselves often fight turning violent. Customers drunk throw glasses, bottles, or try to take the girls, ripping hair out, beating them. Not every person working is trying to cause problems; of course, there are many just trying to get by to pay rent that now topples over $3,000. I can barely afford my apartment in Brooklyn with my salary.

Cops are lining every street, but we are not here as cops Olivia and I are riding with the covenant house team to help them reach the kids whoa re too afraid to find Covenant House or don't know that help exists. We are reaching to find kids who need food, warmth, and shelter. We provide sandwiches, beverages, ears to the kids if they are ready to tell their stories.

In the van we provide education about sex, pregnancies, STD prevention, we give them condoms. We let them cry, scream, ask questions, or sit in silence; we let the kids choose what they need when they need it. Many have never been given a choice of anything in their lives. We gain the kids' trust and, when ready, we will get them to our crisis shelters, where they're given love and support to permanently stay off the streets. Some stay only a few days and decide they aren't ready to give up the life they know. They have to be willing to be drug-free and make other commitments to stay at Covenant House. Some, however, remain with Covenant House and complete the whole program.

Frequently it takes multiple interactions before the kids will trust those of us on the outreach team enough to accept our offers of help they've simply been burned by adults too many times in their lives.

"So Captain Benson, my boss tells me you've been coming on these rides along's since you joined SVU in 1999. Any specific reasons?"

Andy's question perks my interests in the nine years I have known Olivia; I have never known the answer to this question myself. For the first six years, when I went on these outreach trips, I never knew she went along. I only found out three years ago when we were paired together by accident on a night when they had more volunteers than vans. I never asked myself for fear of having to answer the same question back; it's a part of my past. I have kept hidden for many years. I have no intention of starting to share that story now.

"I was on the job about two months with Special Vics when we came across the case of a fourteen-year-old girl who we had to arrest for selling drugs to her classmates, sometimes in exchange for sexual favors. The whole Squad called her Spoiled Sally because she came from the upper west side, went to a private school. She had all the advantages of a rich kid, yet she chose to squander her life by selling drugs."

"You thought there was more to her story though, Olivia, didn't you?"

"You know me well, Amanda." Olivia has no idea how well I know her how I have spent my whole adult life, and most of my teens years studying her career trying to be half the cop she is. Olivia has no idea that I listen to every conversation hoping to gather a new detail I didn't know already. I know her favorite, color, movie, TV show, her worst fears, her dreams. I know which ice cream flavor she likes best, her favorite spot for ice cream, who her favorite baseball team is, and which sport she hates the most. I know Olivia uses vanilla body lotion but hates vanilla ice cream.

My body shivers despite being June. The temperature is dropping fast the later it gets. "I did think there was more, so I started investigating further. Interviewing her friends, teachers, classmates. Came to learn Sally transferred schools six times over the last year, she had moved from city to city since she was six years old."

Olivia bites her lower lip as she laughs slightly "Amanda you'll love this part, my boss told me to drop it, or he would transfer me, I couldn't drop it, I defied his orders and kept digging. I matched her picture into enhanced facial recognizing came to discover our Spoiled little Sally was Marcella Marginals, a kidnapped girl from Mexico who vanished at age six when her family was on vacation over there. They let go of her hands for two minutes, and she was snatched. Marcella was smuggled into different cities by different men. Who caged her up like an animal beat her raped her, sold her from family to family."

"This last family was an elderly couple who never had kids of their own; the man who sold her to them kept weekly checks on her forced her to sell drugs for him. Raped her weekly to keep her in-line raped the wife weekly to keep the parents quite. When we went to collect Marcella, the bastard was there raping the wife, the husband an 82-year-old man who could barely move was tied to the chair. A battle broke out between the police and the pimp, Marcella was shot in the battle, by my gun. I was devastated. I felt as if it was my fault if I had left it alone, as my boss told me. Marcella would be alive no matter how hard her life was, at least she drew breath. Because of me, that sweet girl was dead."

"All my co-workers kept telling me it wasn't my fault; it was just part of the job. I had to accept it as God's plan. I couldn't though, I mean, how did God see that to be fair? How could any God justify a fourteen-year-old girl being raped, beaten suffering every day as okay?"

"So I headed to my favorite bar to get there I had to pass the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, I wasn't raised in any dominant religion growing up, but I felt drawn to it. I felt like I needed to talk to God, to let him know how angry I was at him."

"At first, all I could do was sit there, staring at the candles, the altar, tears running down my face. I have no idea how long I sat there for; till I felt the gentle touch of Sister Mary Rose McGeady, she sat by me and listened to me. Then she said something to me that has stayed with me my whole life; she replied ours is not to ask God why; ours is simply to close our eyes and listen to our hearts, and believe God always has a reason why. It's hard at times, but I made a promise to God to listen; he has to lead me to my calling to help kids on the street, his kids."

"As you know at the time, Sister McGeady was the president of Covenant House from 1990-2003. She took me to the house and showed me the center; I spoke to counselors, volunteers, and the kids themselves. I fell in love with the mission, with the kids the staff. I knew I had to try to make a difference."

"I started doing the outreach van around 12 years ago, at first, it was just because it was always so short-staffed, not many people volunteer to do something so dangerous. Then it became another passion for me."

I reach over and take Olivia's hand "you know Marcella's death wasn't your fault, Liv. No more than Easter's was mine."

"I know Amanda, up here, I know that." She points to her head, "But in here." Olivia's hand moves to her heart. "that takes reminding I am sorry I couldn't comfort you after telling you about Easter, I should have held you talked to you instead of getting up and walking away. The memories of that day hit me so hard; I think I am moving on, and then I am hit with a wave of guilt so intense it takes my breath away."

"Liv, it's okay. I needed my Captain than you did what I needed. You gave me time to cry, scream you stayed in the room, so I knew you were there, but you gave me privacy. No one can take someone else to pain away. But having you in that room brought me comfort."

Olivia smiles at me as Bobby J speaks "You two should come Tuesday for our annual Sleep-out for Covenant House, we have a line-up of stars who are performing and over 1,000 people who have signed up to raise money for our kids by sleeping out."

"Yeah, sounds good, Amanda?" "I'm in for sure."

"So Miss southern sweet tea, what is your story? I know you got one." My body tenses at his suggestion I feel all eyes on me my heart races as my stomach twists. How am I suppose to get out of this one? "Don't be bashful to spill your game." Bobby J nudges me as I fight to keep my nausea from spilling out onto the van's floor. If Olivia knew the truth, she would never look at me the same ever again.

"Help me!" Loud, intense screams ricochet off the buildings in the side-street where we are parked; a young girl comes racing out of the cover of darkness shadow. So fast her legs stumble, but she doesn't allow herself to fall; she can't she's running for her life. Those skinny legs barely hold her body up, yet she hurls herself forward, never glancing back. I can hear her heavy breathing as she approaches "not here." she points to two streets over. Eyes glance at us. I see the pain and fear "My man he's watching he'll see me get in, I'm dead then, he'll know where to find me."

She's gone in a flash, hurling her skinny body down the side streets in a race for her life, dodging into different avenues. The van squeals to life as our driver Michelle steps on the gas, the girl's arms pump flying as she dodges cars, people she isn't quitting or playing. It's pitch black out here now except the glow of a few broken street lights.

Michelle flips off our headlights as we reach the street the girl wanted us to, we sit in silence the radio shut off now. Our heartbeats are the only sounds slowly. I get out my legs a little shaky from being crouched in a van for hours. Olivia follows me closely behind as seconds tick into minutes both of us praying her man as she called him didn't find her, which we know damn well means her pimp. Rustling has us both turning around I spot her first she comes running full speed towards us, fooling her pimp she had run around the block twice; New York blocks ain't no joke either, they are long.

This girl is in eight-inch heels her feet must hurt so bad I feel tears well up I can barely walk in those types of heels nerve mind run. The girl is only twenty- yards away from us. I can see the depth of fear in her cyan blue eyes. An ocean deep of pain she is so close to safety just within feet of being saved Olivia and I are both tense ready to grab her up. The squeals of tires alert us to a sense of danger; I don't think twice I take off "Rollins!" Olivia yells as I pump my legs harder than they have ever been pumped before. Hoping that this girl can see it in my eyes that she can trust me, she can reach better days if she reaches out, allows me to take her hands. Gets in this van with me, I can help her find the sunshine behind these rainy days. Sometimes one person can make a difference. I close my eyes every day I pray I can be that person.

My hands reach the girl at the very last second my lungs are screaming in pain, I can barely breathe my muscles are straining with every-step. "Grab my hands, don't let go no matter what I got you." My arms wrap around the girl's frail body as my feet make a sudden turn burning my heels. I pull her body racing to the van as doors fly open. "Rollins, get down!" Olivia screams as a hail of bullets rain down on us I push the girl into the van slam the door and bang on it. Michelle takes off my legs give out as I crash to the ground Olivia is returning fire. I can't breathe or think my legs are twitching in pain I can feel my blood filling my mouth as I start to cough.

I can't seem to focus on anything. Every breath is harder to inhale and exhale. "Amanda, it's Olivia we've got to move, they took off, but they'll be back we just cost them a major investment. Can you move at all?"

Olivia's arms lift me pain stabs me at every angle it's mild though so after a few breaths I can put pressure on my legs she doesn't let go of my arm though pulling me along with her as we race to meet the van a few blocks over. Sweat pours down my body as my stomach cramps I feel flushed. I'm losing blood I can feel how weak I am, but I have no idea where or how serious it is. "Amanda that was stupid as hell, we are off-duty you know the department does not cover any injury you get, any action you take as a citizen which means you face the same charges they face. No union rep to cover for you."

"Yeah, I know Liv, and it also means I don't have to play by the rules."

"Amanda, it doesn't mean you get to risk your life."

"It's mine to risk Olivia, and if you ain't willing to risk your life, why are you out here?"

"Uh! Why are all the bad-asses so damn stubborn!"

"That's what makes us hot."

"Yeah, I know that's why the bad-asses like you are always the one who looks the most fuckable."

My ears ring did Olivia Benson just say she wanted to what with me? I stop moving physically, yet my Vertigo didn't get the message. I can't speak all I can do is stare at Olivia, watch her long legs so muscular her statuesque frame so lean and beautiful, long dark hair loosely held back with a decorative clip. Her appearance takes my breath away. She smiles as she slowly moves us towards the van.

All I can do is picture her lying on top of me on her bed as she places her mouth over my clit. A direct hit, her gorgeous lips closing around it and lapping at it with her tongue. Her hands hold my hips as I try to buck against her face; she is a master at getting me off like this. I can feel an orgasm building in my walls, I can feel the heat rising as I writhe under her face, and just as she is about to push me over the edge, she inserts a single slender finger inside as she does I feel the first wave of fire rising and spreading through me. I come hard onto her hand as she rapidly pumps two fingers in and out while she sucks on my clit.

"Amanda, move!" My head peaks up from the daydream of Olivia, and I making love seconds too late as the car comes speeding towards us headlights as bright as the Georgia summer sun. Michelle rushes towards us, Andy and Bobby J throw open the doors. "Get in!" Olivia's hands push my body into the van's. I feel Andy and Bobby grab me pulling my limp body up as Olivia screams at Michelle. to"Go."

Wait, where is Olivia going? Why didn't she get in with me? Gunfire fills the air as I try to stand but am thrown back against the wall hard as Michelle takes off, tires squealing. "Calvin!" I hear Olivia's scream as my head slams into the floor, sending me crashing into a world of blackness. All I can do is pray; God keep Olivia safe.

A/N: For More information on how you can help Covenant House and Homeless Youth visit their website

Our Youth deserve a kinder, better world than the one we have today. Let us commit to building this world together. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13643440/1/Covenant-From-The-Heart

#svu #Rolivia #AmandaRollins #OliviaBenson #HomelessKids #Youth #LGBTQ #Fanfiction

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weirdthingtosay · 6 years

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I am imagining my father.

As I sit here, he is alone, in his cold but beautiful small farmhouse an hour from the nearest city. His house is filled with heavy, dark-wood furniture. The floor completely concealed by Persian rugs, overlapping each other and bumped and bruised from being trodden on and chewed by dogs. Intricately oppressive golden incense burners, the kind you find in a church, swing from the lowest of the beams, vomiting scent clouds into the room at head height which never quite dissipate into the gabled ceiling. They remind me of how I would play when I was three or four, jumping up into the smog-cloud of his cigarettes, visible, always, just above me in the living room - I used to imagine it was what being in the sky was like.

His walls are lined with books, mostly history, some philosophy of science, and almost all bound in linen with gold embossed titles. He had an obsession with the Folio Society for a while, he spent all of my mum’s money (the only income, until she fell ill) on those books. We shared cheap packets of pre-stuffed tortellini between four of us for months. The same happened when he was obsessed with weight lifting, model trains, motorbike engines, guitars, mosaic making, handmade shoes, Rolex watches, pipes, bonsai trees, wooden canes, belt buckles, and Toyota XR2is. Currently his obsession is making walking sticks and leather items. Buttons, bags, collars, whips.

He has always liked canes and whips. Once he brought home a blackthorn cane, and told my sister and I it’s illustrious history, and how we should respect and fear it, and that he was looking forward to using it. We knew what that meant. He wanted to put it on the coffee table to be seen at all times, but our dog wouldn’t stop trying to run off with it so he angrily hid it behind the sofa and went upstairs to sulk and sleep. We took it out and fed it, piece by piece, to the dog. I told this story, laughing at how clever we had been and how funny it was when he couldn’t find anything as good to beat us with despite being so angry, at school the next day. The silence of my friends was embarrassing, the silence of my teachers even more so.

I went to visit him two weeks ago, for the first time in a long time. It was still too soon. He showed me his ‘workshop’, a small space between living room and kitchen which has been filled with mandrels, hammers, materials, and tools I couldn’t afford. He’s making a walking cane with a tiger’s head on it, he says a rich ‘Indian’ wants it. I’m sure this is something he has imagined. He asks me what I think of his work, this being my ‘area of expertise’ (it is not), I play along. Yes, it’s nice (it is not). Yes, I think he might be able to sell some (I do not). He asks if I want to see the whips. Sure, I say.

Leading me back into the living room, I am instructed to sit down on a deep, musty armchair. In front of it I see a tapestried footrest which he hounded me for two years to restore for him as I ‘know about these things’. I eventually rinsed it under a tap and coloured it in with Sharpies and gave it back to him, to much praise. He takes out two long, poorly made whips, one tan, one black, and hands me the tan one. As I lift it up to look, the three dogs he owns who had been resting on the floor in front of us jump up at once. They back away, quickly, hiding their tails and cowering. I drop the whip down and say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”, my heart is in my intestines and I’m at once aware that I mustn’t apologise and I mustn’t show I understand because he will punish me for it. I became everything in the room, for a split second, I became me - the adult runaway returning to him, me - the child hiding from injury, the dog - cowering and looking up at someone they trust, expecting to be hit and trying to minimise it, and him - the old man, who knows what he has done, who knows all of this, and sees.

I pick the whip back up, he shouts at the dogs to stop their nonsense, I tell him its very good and feign inspection and approval. I go off to cook us all dinner, the oven breaks, he wails at it like it can hear him and rants and raves into the door. Eventually we eat from a camping stove. I’m not sure how he is surviving out there. There was nothing but spices in the cupboard. Nothing in the fridge except hallucinogenic mushrooms. Eventually, I’m going, I make the mistake of looking him dead in the eyes before I do so. He cries instantly, tell me he wishes he was a monk, he wants to be locked in a cell. I make a joke about it, tell him to commit a crime then, the rent’s cheaper. I leave as quickly as I can.

A week later he calls me. He has had the most traumatic day of his life, he says. He’s crying. I’m at work but I step out into the car park to listen to him. I don’t want to. He tells me a long story about how he walked with his dogs to the bottom of his garden in the morning, just as the sun bled into the clouds (his words), and that they had begun to fight one another. He tried to break them up. They wouldn’t. He hit them all with a spade. He dragged one of them, the smallest, back into the house and passed out, eventually waking from cold. He said he went back outside, to find the last two dogs and bring them in. They are still fighting. He reckons its been about four hours. He says they all ended up in the pond. He says there’s a man inside him. He says he hit them all with a spade again. He says he had to ‘make a choice, kid, I had to choose’ the dogs were ‘going to kill each other’ and that he’s living in some kind of parallel universe ‘the younger dog or the older dog’ and he can’t get out ‘he was going to kill him I had to make a choice I chose the younger dog’ so he grabbed the spade and smashed it’s head in.

I nod, and ‘mhmm’ at the right places. I’m numb and blank in a car park, white walls from the surrounding kitchens making the sky black. It is so clear it’s like water, a black mirror, and I can see where my face should be reflected there is a solitary dog, an animal I felt I was, an animal I have been, on it’s back outside in the cold under that same infinite yet smothering darkness. I’m dead, it’s dead, we’re all fucking dead. There’s no life-as-it-was after this. There’s no forgetting how he kicked our childhood dog to death, how he dragged my mum out into the street when she had her stroke, no laughing at disposing of that cane. It’s here, it’s back. It is not the past. I am not a runaway, I’m just running in circles and now we’re all fucking dead.

I spend the next week deep in phone calls and decisions about sectioning and police and ‘has he shot himself?’s with my sister. We don’t know what to do. Why should we? Why should anyone know how to deal with this? We can’t get him sectioned, he’ll attack anyone who goes there and end up arrested. We can’t call the RSPCA, the dogs bit him when he attacked them and they’ll be put down. Something has to live through this. We ring him constantly, eventually he picks up. He’s not shot himself - good, I say (I’m not sure if it is), I can rehome the other dogs, I just have to go and get them. He seems calmer now. Maybe we should check on him, we say. And then the universe replies - and snows us in for two days. We were supposed to be driving to get the dog and to take it to it’s new owners, for a test run. They can’t make it and neither can I. In the days between these events my heart has softened. I’ve thought of taking him in, of helping him, of closing us off and of my duty and putting all of my self preservation aside - sacrificing myself to this great man, just as he’s always taught me. I phone him to tell him I’m sorry but I can’t make it today, I’m snowed in, we’ll have to reschedule. No, he says. He needs me to come down. He can’t face going outside. He wanted to bury the dog in a circle of saplings, to give it eternal life. He’s a psychopathic murderer, he says. He can’t look at the dog he killed a week ago. Can’t look at it��s ‘slit throat’. I thought it was a spade, I say. He says he killed his best friend. He slit his best friend’s throat. I have to go and move the dog. He’s phoned the college I work at and is enrolling. We’ll live within 15 miles of each other. I’m a good kid. I need to move the dog. No one else will understand. I’m the only one. I’m a good kid, not like the others. He’s got the blues. Life is hard to him.

I told him I’ll come as soon as a I can, but it won’t be this week. Maybe after Christmas. I can see the chain of events now. I opened the door again, I let him back in. He managed to get his nails in a crack and is ripping an opening. ‘You’re stupid for animals’, he used to say to me ‘they don’t have feelings, you let them manipulate you’. I said, maybe, but I prefer it this way. I’m naive. Probably, but I’ll live with that. I am dismissed. ‘Well I’m busy too,’ he says ‘the man is coming for the walking stick, I need some advice about pricing…’. I have no interest in talking to him about his walking stick, or how to apply for student loans, or how much they are, or whether I can use my contacts at the college to get him some extra financial aid. I say sorry, but I’ve got to go. After I hang up I’m wrung out. I don’t know if I’m good, or bad, or I’m broken or righteous. I know that whatever I do or say or think I’m making a choice, a moral choice, a choice with huge implications, I’m paralysed by the responsibility for something 60 years of trauma in the making, something I only have the privilege to know about because I was stupid enough to visit twice in two years.

I am imagining my dad. Waiting with his badly made walking stick for a man who may or may not be real. Filling out his student loan forms. So high he doesn’t know he’s hungry. Shuttered away from the bloated mutilated body of his dog outside the only door to his home, which he can’t pay for. So fragile but so powerful in destructive ability. I’m imagining him waiting for me to call. I’m imagining him lining up his next strategy if I don’t. I’m imagining him thinking about me, who I am, how to manipulate me. I’m imagining me, 11 years old, sitting on the step outside my house in the morning, waiting for him to arrive on his bike like he said and eventually going inside at bedtime. Me, 18, running away to an Art College in the country which would be my home and safe place for the next 10 years. I’m imagining me, six months on from now, the life I have built to escape from him, fully flayed open - bloating and stinking, because everyone is too afraid to bury it.

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wiremagazine · 5 years

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SPOTLIGHT FILMS: PREVIEW 15 OF THE EXCEPTIONAL SELECTIONS FOR MIAMI FILM FESTIVAL GEMS 2019

Photos provided by Miami Film Festival GEMS 2019

BY THE GRACE OF GOD (Belgium, France, 2019) Director: François Ozon In French, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: In By the Grace of God, acclaimed filmmaker François Ozon dramatizes the story of three Preynat victims – Alexandre Guérin (Melvil Poupaud), a lawyer and devoted Catholic family man, François Debord (Denis Ménochet), a declared atheist who wants to bring media attention to the case, and Emmanuel Thomassin, an emotionally damaged younger man who carries the heaviest burden and the effects of prolonged trauma.

CLEMENCY (U.S., 2019) Director: Chinonye Chukwu In English

GEMS Synopsis: Clemency is an indelible character study and a searing look at the toll of capital punishment on the lives of all it touches – including the families of victims seeking justice. Filmmaker Chinonye Chukwu, the first African-American woman to win Sundance's highest prize, is observant to the disproportionate toll death row reaps on black men, but also alive to the possibility of hope, and humanity finding its way back from even the darkest emotional places.

HONEY BOY (U.S., 2019) Director: Alma Har'el In English

GEMS Synopsis: Artists often draw from real-life experience, but few approach this practice quite like actor Shia LaBeouf. Having received court-ordered therapy writing while in rehab, LaBeouf – who over the years has been the subject of numerous public misbehavior headlines – took the mandated writing and turned it into something tremendous: the screenplay for Honey Boy.

LES MISÉRABLES (France, 2019) Director: Ladj Ly In French, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: Victor Hugo's 1862 classic novel Les Misérables unforgettably depicted the abject poverty and state violence endured by residents in the Paris suburb Montfermeil, a setting symbolically representing a greater view of French society. Taking Hugo's title for his fiction feature debut, director Ladj Ly returns to modern-day Montfermeil and finds that the tensions between the racially diversified, impoverished community and the police enforcing the status quo are remarkably similar to the world of Jean Valjean and Hugo's characters, even more than 150 years later.

LETTER TO THE EDITOR (U.S., 2019) Director: Alan Berliner In English

GEMS Synopsis: For 40 years, filmmaker Alan Berliner has clipped out from the pages of The New York Times photos that caught his eye, keeping them meticulously filed and cross-indexed as a self-appointed archivist and librarian. Driven by his obsession, Berliner has completed the work of nearly a lifetime, transforming and reinterpreting his collection of images into a statement about the nature of humankind. Letter to the Editor is a film essay with multiple themes and a stunning array of thousands of photographs from Alan Berliner's collection. This film delivers poignant reflections on the power of photography, the importance of print publications, and what it means when technology brings a dramatic change to century-old traditions.

LITUS (Spain, 2019) Director: Dani de la Orden In Spanish, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: A big chill has descended upon a group of Barcelona thirtysomething friends. Six months before, their cherished friend Litus inexplicably took his own life. His loving friends gather to celebrate his memory, but a bombshell secret awaits them: Litus left behind a goodbye letter for each of them. A moving drama with impeccably timed moments of humor, Litus is an invitation to reflect on life, relationships and our connections to those we hold most dear in life.

MOTHERLESS BROOKLYN (U.S., 2019) Director: Edward Norton In English

GEMS Synopsis: Twenty years in the making, Edward Norton's passion project Motherless Brooklyn finds the famed actor working quadruple duty as writer, director, producer and star of this inventive adaptation of Jonathan Lethem's novel of the same name. Growing up an orphan with Tourette syndrome, Lionel (Norton) spent his early years trying to find his place in the world. Then private detective Frank Minna (Bruce Willis) took him under his wing. Now a full-fledged employee of Frank's agency, Lionel finds his world turned upside down when Frank is murdered. Determined to solve the mystery of who killed his mentor, Lionel sets off on a quest that takes him from Brooklyn to Harlem, where he discovers a trail of shocking political corruption in the process.

PAIN AND GLORY (Spain, 2019) Director: Pedro Almodóvar In Spanish, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: Pain and Glory is legendary Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar's most personal, semi-autobiographical film to date. The film centers on Salvador Mallo (played by Antonio Banderas, who won Best Actor at Cannes Film Festival for this role), a Spanish film director in his 60s. Salvador receives an invitation by the Madrid Cinematheque for a retrospective screening of Sabor, a film that he made more than 30 years ago. The invitation triggers a comical, edgy reunion with Alberto Crespo (Asier Etxeandia), the actor who starred in Sabor, and then later a reunion with Federico Delgado (Leonardo Sbaraglia), the Argentinian man who was Salvador's first adult love just as many years ago. Floating in and out of Salvador's memories is his unresolved relationship with his deceased mother (played in her younger years by Penélope Cruz, and later years by Julieta Serrano).

PARASITE (South Korea, 2019) Director: Bong Joon-ho In Korean, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: At once hilariously funny and nail-bitingly tense, Bong Joon-ho's class satire Parasite is quite possibly the most unique and unforgettable film of the year, and has had international critics swooning since it won the Palme D'Or at this year's Cannes Film Festival. Defying convention and predictability at every step, the film centers on two families whose paths become inexorably linked and the wild events that result: the affluent Park family and the street smart but poor Kim family. The Kim's children, led by college-aged Ki-woo, manage to forge their way into the Park family's lives as tutors and art therapists. In exchange for their services, the Kim family finally has a path out of poverty, but this fragile balance built on lies will quickly unravel.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE (France, 2019) Director: Céline Sciamma In French, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: Following the unexpected death of her sister, Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) is brought back from a convent and betrothed to an unknown man from Milan. Héloïse's mother, La Comtesse (Valeria Golina), is set on having Héloïse's portrait painted, but she refuses to pose, in rebellion against the arranged marriage into which she is being forced. So La Comtesse slyly hires Marianne, a rare female professional artist in the period, to secretly paint Héloïse's portrait, all the while posing as her ostensible companion. Through walks, profound conversations, and long-held, tantalizing looks, the relationship between Héloïse and Marianne evolves with delicacy and intimacy.

STAFF ONLY (France, Spain, 2019) Director: Neus Ballus In Catalan, French, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: In a time where new generations are often aggressively pursuing some stark definitions of political correctness, Staff Only hits a zeitgeist nerve with a young protagonist who is as intelligent as she is inexperienced. Catalan director Neus Ballús turns an honest and critical eye to a rich cast of characters, all of them compassionate, flawed human beings trying to live their best lives – yet often at unforeseen costs. Embracing the rich Senegalese landscape, Staff Only is as charming as it is poignant, while asking fundamental questions about how we grow individually, and in relation to others.

TAXI TO TREASURE ROCK (Spain, 2019) Director: Alejo Flah In Spanish, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: Freshly released from a Madrid prison, Argentinian con artist and professional charmer Diego has one idea to rebuild his life: finding a lost stash of gold hidden inside the legendary Rock of Gibraltar. Diego puts his snake charmer ways to convince León (Dani Rovira of the Ocho appellidos vascos films), a misanthropic, miserly taxi driver flooded with debt and rage against the system, to drive him from Madrid to Gibraltar. On their chaotic road trip they meet Sandra (Ingrid García-Jonsson), a runaway bride-to-be who is just enough of a misfit to connect with Diego and León, and join their eccentric, life-changing adventure.

THE TRUTH (France, Japan, 2019) Director: Hirokazu Kore-eda In French, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: To iconic actress Fabienne (Deneuve), nothing is more important than giving the perfect performance. Her commitment to her work has long put a strain on her personal life, and when her new memoir comes out, those closest to her find it harder and harder to stay by her side. When her longtime assistant suddenly quits, her estranged daughter Lumir (Binoche) – who's in town visiting along with her actor husband, Hank (Ethan Hawke) – steps into the role of assisting Fabienne while on the set of her new sci-fi film Memories of My Mother. With a mother and daughter so unable to communicate their complicated feelings to one another, Fabienne's new film (based on the Ken Liu short story of the same name) is a resonant, meta example of life imitating art.

THE TWO POPES (Argentina, Italy, UK, U.S., 2019) Director: Fernando Meirelles In English, French, Italian, Spanish, with English subtitles

GEMS Synopsis: When Pope Benedict XVI (Hopkins) breaks with tradition and decides to retire from the papacy, he invites his soon-to-be successor Cardinal Bergoglio (Pryce) – who will become the future Pope Francis – for a meeting. At first, it seems like an ideal opportunity for the two men to exchange pleasantries and put their differences aside. As one of Pope Benedict's harshest critics, Cardinal Bergoglio is a progressive, forward-thinking leader, one who feels strongly that the Church should listen to its followers instead of blindly adhering to the ways of old. It's an outlook that leads to a fierce debate between the two men – a debate on sticking to tradition vs. growing with the times, and about what it means to pave a religious path for more than a billion followers around the world.

TOP END WEDDING (Australia, 2019) Director: Wayne Blair In English

GEMS Synopsis: Lauren's demanding boss has given her just ten days of leave to get married to her doting fiancé, Ned, before she makes partner. But when Lauren's mother disappears in the midst of a major midlife crisis, leaving her father in shambles, all wedding plans are off until they can find her. Lauren and Ned set off on a breathtaking road trip through northern Australia (the "top end" of the country) in which multiple generations of the family must come to terms with the past in order for Lauren and Ned to be able to forge their future together.

This was originally published in Wire Magazine Issue 19.2019

#wire magazine #wiremag.com #wire #miami #miami beach #south beach #sobe #fort lauderdale #wynwood #wilton manors #gay #lgbt #glbt #gems 2019 #gems #spotlights

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glenngaylord · 5 years

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MY MOMENTS OUT OF TIME IN FILM 2018

Instead of a Top 10 List, every year I like to honor a long-discontinued but influential annual column from Film Comment magazine. I couldn’t wait for my father to come home from work with the “Moments Out Of Time” issue. The writers would cite their favorite scenes, images, or lines of dialogue, even from films they may not have liked, because let’s face it, even bad films may have a great moment or two. This was a great year in film, although I admit some of my favorite moments were films or series made for television. Whether it’s Alex Borstein wielding her trusty plunger around the Catskills in THE MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL or Amy Adams waking up from a drunken stupor in the unforgettable SHARP OBJECTS, these shows had more indelible scenes than all of the Marvel and DC superhero movies combined.

Still, I found myself lucky enough to see the staggeringly beautiful ROMA twice in a theater, because seeing it on Netflix doesn’t do it justice. If that’s your only option, however, see it and see it with its glorious empathy oozing out of every frame. EIGHTH GRADE took me by surprise with its unassuming, off-the-cuff filmmaking style. Beneath that I found an aching, contemporary story of a young girl dying to connect with somebody, anybody…her cracked phone an apt metaphor for a world in which our societal sickness lies buried in an addiction to our screens. PADDINGTON 2, even more so than its wonderful predecessor, gave us the immigrant experience from an accident-prone, marmalade-loving cuddly bear who just wants to unite everyone. BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY, despite its Powerpoint presentation of a story, oozed with so much emotion, the joy of creating, the beauty of people seeing you, and the sheer nostalgia of it all, I found myself crying throughout. A STAR IS BORN, while imperfect, had moments of such gorgeousness, especially the undeniable chemistry of its leads, it’s my prediction to win the Best Picture Oscar. VICE, another Oscar front runner, had fantastic performances and was nonstop fun, but, for me, didn’t quite lick the enigma of Dick Cheney and demonstrated some juvenile instincts of its writer/director.

I saw a ton of films, but even I can’t see them all. I missed SHOPLIFTERS, BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE, BEAUTIFUL BOY, and BURNING, among many others…but will catch up with them soon. So having said that, here, in no particular order, are my Moments Out Of Time In Film for 2018:

Gabe invites Kayla over for a “first friend hangout” dinner of chicken nuggets and beautifully lived-in, awkward, nerdy charm, telling this lovely, insecure young girl, “You are awesome” - melting all of our hearts with that sweet, simple declaration. It’s one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever seen and a moment our Kayla richly deserved.- EIGHTH GRADE

A young, pregnant Mexican housekeeper tracks down the father of her child, finding him at some type of military training camp. When she delivers the news to him, he screams at her to stay away from him and runs off to join his buddies. We never see her reaction, instead experiencing the moment from a somewhat removed distance. A lesser filmmaker would have cut to her startled, hurt face, but Alfonso Cuarón knew that we’d feel her isolation and devastation more strongly if we didn’t focus on her. Only a master filmmaker would make such an indelible decision, along with a thousand other great ones. - ROMA

A Peruvian bear takes his Aunt on a fantastical, eye-exploding, stunning tour of London via a pop-up book come to life. One of the most astounding animated sequences of all time. - PADDINGTON 2

A band looks out at the masses of people clapping along in sync to one of their songs, and in that moment, the connection feels palpable. Everyone there, everyone who watched knew this was the moment when legends became immortal. - BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

Nicole Kidman completely transforms herself yet again as a hardened cop with a life full of traumas etched onto her tortured face. Just watching her lurch towards a crime scene, ambling like Jack Skellington convinced me that to watch Kidman at her peak is to witness greatness. - DESTROYER

A woman in labor and with a horrifying nail injury to her foot, crawls into a bathtub to give birth to a child. Unable to make a sound lest she capture the attention of a murderous alien slithering through her house, she agonizingly holds it all in until a competing noise allows her to let out a pained, visceral scream. - A QUIET PLACE

A young cater-waiter gets invited onstage to sing her song with a headlining rock star. Surprised by her power, surprised by the surge and size of the crowd, her guileless reaction and blazing talent cut through, quickly proving the movie’s title. - A STAR IS BORN

Regina Hall sits on a rooftop with two of her female employees from a HOOTERS-like establishment. They’re all in a transition period in their lives, unsure what the future brings. They’ve all gone through an intense day and let it all out with extended screams, an unforgettable, undeniable female rage. This small, simple, subtle film is also one of the year’s best. - SUPPORT THE GIRLS

More groundbreaking than I had ever thought, Fred Rogers soaks his feet in a little tub and invites his black, gay co-star to do the same, breaking taboos on a children’s show way ahead of its time. - WON’T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR?

Charlize Theron shows us the real pain of motherhood, never once feeling like a glammed-up version of the harsh realities, and yet saves its most shocking sucker punch for its final moments, delivering a reveal as unexpected as the one I didn’t see coming in SHARP OBJECTS. - TULLY

Queen Anne (Olivia Colman), referring to Emma Stone’s Abigail, tells Lady Sarah( Rachel Weisz), “I like it when she puts her tongue inside me”…which is followed by Stone giving Weisz the year’s best side-eye. - THE FAVOURITE

In a film filled with shocking moments - the odd clucking sounds, the decapitated bird head, the unexpected death of a major character, the eerie, incongruous reflection of a teen’s face in a school window, the most jolting moment comes when Toni Collette stands over her offspring’s bed and says, “I never wanted to be your mother”. Stunned, she seemingly scoops those words back down her throat in an attempt to make them go away. For this moment alone, and she gives a tour de force performance here, Collette enters the pantheon of actors who made themselves immortal. - HEREDITARY

Modern day cowboys sit around a perfectly shot nighttime campfire as our hero questions his place as a man in this world. Masculinity has rarely been shot through with such tenderness as in every moment of this quiet stunner. - THE RIDER

“Gucci!” - EIGHTH GRADE

A young daughter ever so patiently and lovingly tells her PTSD-afflicted father that their views on how to live their lives may not converge, reminding us that histrionics don’t necessarily make for great conflict. You can find it even when people act like adults and show decency towards each other. - LEAVE NO TRACE

My heart broke when a young Lebanese boy tried every way possible to keep his sister from being sold off as a child bride. The kinetic filmmaking of this sequence mined every second for peak emotions. - CAPERNAUM

A blisteringly romantic tale of star-crossed lovers in Post War Poland wins the swoon award every time Joanna Kulig (a dead ringer for Jennifer Lawrence) sings the refrain, “Oy yoy yoy” - COLD WAR

Jack Black, playing a hard-partying character whose accident leads to the lifelong paralysis of his new friend (Joaquin Phoenix), meets up with him many years later. In a short but painful scene, we see the wreckage of a life and the profound sorrow written across Black’s face. I never thought I’d type the words, “Jack Black’s acting made me sob”, but there you have it. If Beatrice Straight can win an Oscar for a single scene, then Jack Black can too. Of course, I’m not even getting into how great Jonah Hill was in this film, but I’d be here all day. - DON’T WORRY, HE WON’T GET FAR ON FOOT

The matriarch of a family takes their housekeeper to a baby store to buy a crib when the chaos of the Corpus Christi Massacre erupts in the streets below, turning a simple shot into something epic, grand and inconceivable. - ROMA

Let’s face it. It had some of the best and bitchiest one liners of the year: “I pity your wife if you think six minutes is forever” , “Roger, there's only room in this band for one hysterical queen”, "Tell him thanks for the birthday cake. And tell him you're an epic shag”, and the beautiful, un-ironic exchange, “FREDDIE: Let’s go and punch a hole in the roof of Wembley Stadium. BRIAN: Actually, Wembley Stadium doesn’t have a roof. FREDDIE: Then we’ll punch a hole in the sky,” - BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

Kristen Stewart recounts how Joan Jett gave her some advice on how to capture her essence when she played her in THE RUNAWAYS. Jett told her to “pussy that wood” in reference to how to attack her guitar. Advice only a take-no-prisoners, blazingly alive woman could give to another in this energizing look at a true legend. - BAD REPUTATION

All of the tired superhero tropes we’ve become used to in live action appear fresh and thrilling when animated. Who knew I’d thrill to a whole slew of Peter Parkers swinging through New York on their webs? Who knew Lily Tomlin would appear in this and absolutely kill as Aunt May? Who knew Kathryn Hahn would even appear in a Marvel movie and skillfully weaponize a nerdy persona? - SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE

Sure, we all loved that moment when Lady Gaga sang “Shallow”, but let’s not forget another star was born when Henry Cavill got up off that tiled bathroom floor, doffed his suit jacket and reloaded his fists to jump back into one of the best fight sequences in film history. - MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: FALLOUT

Connecting the dots of the past with our present day mess of a country, Spike Lee ends his film on an unsubtle yet vital montage of pure rage. - BLACKKKLANSMAN

In a wonderful reversal to the original, the murderous Michael Myers looks out a backyard window to see Laurie Strode (a fierce Jamie Lee Curtis) standing amongst the hanging sheets. Who’s the monster now?!! - HALLOWEEN

A montage detailing the many prison escapes of our protagonist, an aging, lifelong bank robber (Robert Redford still displaying his undeniable charisma at 82), provides a wonderfully conflicted view of a man who must commit crimes in order to feel alive. - THE OLD MAN AND THE GUN

A bitter, outrageously dead-inside mother jogs on a treadmill, moving cynically forward in life despite having a missing child she barely noticed anyhow and a crumbling Russian society around her. - LOVELESS

“Did you just look at me? Did you? Look at me. LOOK AT ME! HOW DARE YOU! CLOSE YOUR EYES!” - THE FAVOURITE

Despite endlessly terrible scenes of tourists dancing and eating gelato, Clint Eastwood finds a magic power in having the real life heroes on that train play themselves as they thwart a terrorist attack. Although a failed experiment of a film, those 10 minutes felt real and raw and undeniable because of its stunt casting and astute directorial choices. - THE 15:17 TO PARIS

Smack dab in the middle of the movie, it ends. Roll credits. Oh wait. Things didn’t go so swimmingly? Let’s continue. A hugely entertaining fake-out gives self-reflexive cinema a good name. - VICE

After a traumatic incident at a beach (a stunningly shot, hugely suspenseful scene with incredible sound design), a housekeeper looks out the window of a car with a sense of peace as the reflections from the window gorgeously whisk past her lovely face. - ROMA

In the male dominated world of gun-toting action films, it was refreshing to see a group of women, led by a soulful performance by Natalie Portman, lock and load and enter the Shimmer. - ANNIHILATION

A Russian Engineer named Andreyev (Paddy Considine) panics when ordered by Stalin to record a symphony which already occurred. He quickly assembles a ragtag group of people to recreate the concert, telling this terrified assembly living under a murderous regime, “Don’t worry, nobody is going to get killed. I promise you. This is just a musical emergency.” Not a great film, but Armando Iannucci and company know their way around a scabrous line or two. - THE DEATH OF STALIN

Most people will cite the great single take outside a limo as its driven from a poor side of town to a wealthy side. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fantastic piece of cinema, but my mind gravitated towards another moment. A grieving widow lets her dog run loose in another widow’s apartment. The puppy stops at a closet door and reacts to what’s behind it. We know what it is, and she knows what it is even before we’re given visual confirmation. A fantastic storytelling moment. - WIDOWS

Evan Peters, sitting in a car at a gas station, is joined by the actual person he’s portraying, melding narrative with documentary in such an original way. - AMERICAN ANIMALS

Although chock full of special effects in a genre I tend to find forgettable, Michael B. Jordan commanded attention in a simple, quiet scene inside a museum, finding danger and intelligence in every line. He was the REAL special effect of this film. - BLACK PANTHER

Scotty Bowers may be a creepy hoarder, but when you’re 95 and have no f*cks left to give, you’re gonna spill some tea about Hollywood Stars and we will soak it all up in this one-of-a-kind documentary - SCOTTY AND THE SECRET HISTORY OF HOLLYWOOD

The slowest moving conveyor belt of all time provides one of the most well-timed, hilarious payoffs of the year. We need an award for Best Supporting Prop! - GAME NIGHT

Leslie Mann tries to quietly sneak out of her daughter’s Prom night hotel room but electrocutes herself behind the TV console in a delicious bit of physical comedy. - BLOCKERS

A mother desperate to track down her troubled young son gives drugs to an addict in return for more information, showing just how far she’s willing to go. - BEN IS BACK

A closeted up-and-coming movie star confesses to his “golly gee” midwestern wife that he’s not happy and can’t pretend anymore. We get a naked glimpse behind both of their veneers. It’s a stunning, hugely empathetic moment for characters we’ve respectively and heretofore dismissed as a sociopath and a rube. - THE HAPPYS

Alex Borstein’s lesbian character Susie Myerson from THE MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL has met her feature film match with Melissa McCarthy’s equally nihilistic performance as Lee Israel. To see her jousting with Richard E. Grant in any random moment in this wonderful film is to experience acting heaven. I loved how their final moments together could have easily turned to mush, but by staying true to their salty characters, they ended things in a deliciously dark manner. - CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME?

A comedy duo enacts a favorite routine onstage at the risk of one of their’s health. It’s scary, but the love and respect they have for each other shines through. - STAN & OLLIE

I’m sorry to say it gave me the “Made For TV” vibes, but it still found power when Nicole Kidman’s character busts her son out of an Ex-Gay Center, calling out its owner for his utter lack of qualifications. There’s nothing quite like a stifled, repressed woman finding her voice. - BOY ERASED

“I’m just like you” - says a privileged suburban teen as he bounds out of his McMansion and into a fancy SUV. While I generally enjoyed the film, this tone deaf opening line had me futilely looking around for my big house and fancy car. Sometimes a moment out of time is a wrongheaded one. - LOVE, SIMON

In a documentary full of insane twists and turns, the big moment for me came when we were treated to a clip from DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN. Madonna breezes past our smiling, tight jean-sporting identical triplets, the new “It Boys of New York”, the flush of newly-found fame written all over their faces long before their tragic fall. - THREE IDENTICAL STRANGERS

Say what you will about the endless 80s references, I want to live inside the swirling sequence which serves as an homage to THE SHINING. - READY PLAYER ONE

A Japanese woman dons a strange blonde wig and practices English and high fives with another ESL student, over-exaggerating her rounded open mouth as she speaks. - OH LUCY!

Constance Yu playing mah jongg slyly shows her deep wells of strength and strategic genius, nicely setting up a character who will surprise and charm us in equal measures. - CRAZY RICH ASIANS

Yes, it’s a pretty terrible movie, but there’s no denying the thrill of a certain pop legend’s long-awaited entrance by helicopter. It caused my friend Dennis to say out loud, “F*ck yeah, it’s Cher!” - MAMMA MIA!: HERE WE GO AGAIN

In an otherwise forgettable film, Jodie Foster’s memorable gait as the “Hotel” Nurse made me happily forget Kevin Spacey’s from THE USUAL SUSPECTS, and for that, I thank her! - HOTEL ARTEMIS

A young boy named Stevie tries to impress a bunch of older skateboarders with a stunt which sends him through a hole in a roof and crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. - MID90S

Renee: I thought you might want a sneak peek of what’s to come.  Ethan: I don’t know if you know what sneak peek means. You’re completely naked. - I FEEL PRETTY

Despite the gimmick of the movie seen entirely through laptop and smartphone footage, there’s electricity in the moment John Cho’s father character discovers his missing daughter has had a secret life. - SEARCHING

A dancer tries out a solo for a very strange company, unaware that each leap, spin or kick sends a trapped woman a floor below her into bone-crunching contortions. It’s a scene you can almost feel. There’s something rotten in East Berlin! - SUSPIRIA

Sure, Emma Stone worked out a great side-eye in THE FAVOURITE, but has there ever been an actor who seems born to them more than Emily Blunt? Still, my biggest emotional connection to this film came when Ben Wishaw sang “A Conversation”. A beautiful, sweet lament. - MARY POPPINS RETURNS

The site of Michelle Pfeiffer dressed as an elderly woman, cane in hand, hobbling through the streets of New York in a desperate attempt to cash her late mother’s government checks, the score a cacophony of horns and percussion, gave me DRESSED TO KILL shivers. - WHERE IS KYRA?

Think of it as SHARP OBJECT’s UK Cousin, as we watch Moll (a searing Jessie Buckley) tap into female rage in all its messy, bloody glory in this feature length primal scream. - BEAST

Packed with punch and urgency, the opening sequence made you believe you were actually experiencing a WWII aerial combat. Oh, and then it became a fun zombie gore-fest. - OVERLORD

A group of kids escape a gay conversion camp and pile into the back of a pickup truck. Did they make the right decision? Where do they go from here? A wordless homage to the final scene in THE GRADUATE packed a punch. - THE MISEDUCATION OF CAMERON POST

Blake Lively wearing clothes. That is all. - A SIMPLE FAVOR

A meeting with the family of a man who got their daughter pregnant goes terribly wrong, resulting in a slew of insults and threats. It’s a fully alive, oddly comical yet tragic sequence in a film which otherwise left me cold. - IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

Typically known for her impeccable image (before the reality show circus, of course), this pop icon lets down her guard and hilariously tears into Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul. Had she been allowed to be more herself, her life might not have been as tragic. - WHITNEY

Glenn Close delivers the year’s best slow boil as the wife of a Nobel Prize winner who has secretly been his unheralded ghost writer all these years. Until things grow shouty and overwritten in the third act, Close holds a master class in barely suppressed rage. - THE WIFE

Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe, intense tennis rivals, meet up at the airport after their fateful match, the looks between them offering up a touching blend of competitiveness and respect and which will lead to their unexpected, lifelong friendship. - BORG VS. McENROE

In a moment of much-needed image rehabilitation, Anne Hathaway, as the GOOP-like actress perfectly named Daphne Kluger, wins her way back into our hearts just by the way she reacts to a priceless necklace being wrapped around her neck. Every shiver and glance in the mirror makes you love her in all her campy glory. - OCEAN’S 8

A woman gets pushed off a cliff and finds herself impaled on a tree branch, yet not only does it not stop her, she’s just getting started in this literal bloodbath of a feminist fantasy. - REVENGE

A man meets tragedy and finds himself in a wheelchair only to gain powers he never had before after undergoing an experimental procedure. In a fight scene involving an antagonist and a kitchen knife, Logan Marshall-Green surprises himself with each display of brute force coming out of him, making for one of the most brutal yet winningly entertaining melees I’ve seen on screen all year…and don’t forget that kitchen knife. It’s just the right button on this bit of ultraviolet slapstick. - UPGRADE

A young husband meets with a conflicted priest, and in a searing monologue, tells the man of the cloth that the world is such a hellscape, he’d rather his pregnant wife abort their baby than bring it up in such a terrible environment. It’s the first jolt of many in this nihilistic yet strangely hopeful film. - FIRST REFORMED

Presidential candidate Gary Hart (Hugh Jackman) confronts some press members who have staked out his home with the hope of catching him with a woman other than his wife. He indignantly rails against them, claiming he had a right to privacy. Oh, how times have changed. - THE FRONT RUNNER

Katja (Diane Kruger), a woman at the end of her rope, who has lost her family and confidence in the justice system, takes matters into her own hands in the literally explosive, inevitable, and crushing final scene. - IN THE FADE

Who knew that Hal Ashby had such a sincerely lovely relationship with his mentor, Norman Jewison? It’s nice to know that sometimes successful people in the film business actually help out their younger charges. - HAL

I’m not sure I ever really wanted to know what it really felt like to sit in a fiery tin can on the way to the moon and back, but now I do. It’s very well done, but I think I may need to puke. - FIRST MAN

A young man with AIDS (Cory Michael Smith) sits with his mother (Virginia Madsen) in a car, unable to truly be honest with her. The pain of it all comes across so clearly on their faces. - 1985

An oversized candy cane weaponized to fight zombies at Christmas time in Scotland. Oh, and it’s also a musical. Just go! - ANNA AND THE APOCALYPSE

I saw it twice to make sure I truly hated it, and yep, I still did…but the opening sequence in the school, the terrorist attack on the beach, and Natalie Portman banging on the table to protest a diner manager’s request for a picture will stick with me. Hopefully I will forget the other 100 minutes of this painfully unfocused, unfocused, pretentious mess. - VOX LUX

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