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javier-pena · 3 years

Text

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @mothandpidgeon, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #yes i've queued this #yes i'm asleep right now #and yes i'm too much of a coward

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yodawgiheardyoulikemecha · 4 years

Photo

Discovery Dragonfly

"And so Discovery drove on toward Saturn, as often as not pulsating with the cool music of the harpsichord, the frozen thoughts of a brain that had been dust for twice a hundred years." - From 2001 a Space Odyssey by Arthur C Clarke. Here are some more images of my scratch built Discovery Dragonfly from the novel 2001 a space odyssey by Arthur C Clarke. I based this model off the drawing above. Of course as you can see I used a Liberal amount of artistic license for this one. You will notice that the three main doors are pointing vertically. The reason is that they are in a locked position. For the doors to open they have to rotate 90º to the left in order to be in a position to open. Just a little idea I came up with. The Dragonfly configuration very closely matches the description of the Discovery as it was described in the novel. The wing like appendages are radiators which would dissipate any excess heat produced by the nuclear engine. Stanley Kubrick eventually rejected this design because well... they looked like wings. Opting instead for the more bone like configuration that we all know and love. You'll also note that the pod bay doors are in a vertical position. The idea behind this is that they do open and close horizontally. But once they are closed they rotate 90º to a locking position. If you click on the harpsichord link above it will take you to a piece of music written by Bach which I feel had the movie followed more closely to the novel may very well have been used to play along side the Discovery as this sad melancholy ship moves towards Saturn. I know fanciful thinking but then again isn't that what this is all about? From Wikipedia" Although the novel and film were developed simultaneously, the novel follows early drafts of the film, from which the final version deviated. These changes were often for practical reasons relating to what could be filmed economically, and a few were due to differences of opinion between Kubrick and Clarke. The most notable differences are a change in the destination planet from Saturn to Jupiter, the nature of the sequence of events leading to HAL's demise. Stylistic differences may be more important than content differences. Of lesser importance are the appearance of the monolith, the age of HAL, and the novel giving names to various spacecraft, prehistoric apes, and HAL's inventor. Stylistically, the novel generally fleshes out and makes concrete many events left somewhat enigmatic in the film, as has been noted by many observers. Vincent LeBrutto has noted that the novel has "strong narrative structure" which fleshes out the story, while the film is a mainly visual experience where much remains "symbolic". Randy Rasmussen has noted that the personality of Heywood Floyd is different as in Clarke's novel he finds space travel thrilling acting almost as a "spokesman for Clarke" whereas in the film, he experiences space travel as "routine" and "tedious." In the film, Discovery's mission is to Jupiter, not Saturn. Kubrick used Jupiter because he and special effects supervisor Douglas Trumbull could not decide on what they considered to be a convincing model of Saturn's rings for the film. Clarke went on to replace Saturn with Jupiter in the novel's sequel 2010: Odyssey Two. Trumbull later developed a more convincing image of Saturn for his own directorial debut Silent Running. The general sequence of the showdown with Hal is different in the film than in the book. HAL's initial assertion that the AE-35 unit will fail comes in the film after an extended conversation with David Bowman about the odd and "melodramatic" "mysteries" and "secrecy" surrounding the mission, motivated because HAL is required to draw up and send to Earth a crew psychology report. In the novel it is during the birthday message to Frank Poole. In the film, Bowman and Poole decide on their own to disconnect HAL in context of a plan to restore the allegedly failing antenna unit in operation. If it does not fail, HAL will be shown to be malfunctioning. HAL discovers the plan by reading their lips through the EVA pod window. In Clarke's novel, ground control orders Bowman and Poole to disconnect HAL should he prove to be malfunctioning a second time in predicting that the second unit is going to go bad. However, in Clarke's novel, after Poole's death Bowman tries waking up the other crew members, whereupon HAL opens both the internal and external airlock doors, suffocating these three and almost killing Bowman. The film has Bowman, after Poole's murder, go out to rescue him. HAL denies him reentry and kills the hibernating crew members by turning off their life-support. In the sequel 2010: Odyssey Two, however, the recounting of the Discovery One mission is changed to the film version. The film is generally far more enigmatic about the reason for HAL's failure, while the novel spells out that HAL is caught up in an internal conflict because he is ordered to lie about the purpose of the mission. Because of what photographed well, the appearance of the monolith that guided Moon-watcher and the other 'man-apes' at the beginning of the story was changed from novel to film. In the novel, this monolith is a translucent crystal; In the film, it is solid black. The TMA1 and TMA2 monoliths were unchanged. In the book, HAL became operational on January 12, 1997, but in the movie the year is given as 1992. It has been thought that Kubrick wanted HAL to be the same age as a young bright child, nine years old. The famous quote that opens the film sequel 2010: The Year We Make Contact - "My God—it's full of stars!" - is actually not in the 2001 film, although it is in the 2001 book. From Wikipedia" The spacecraft is founded on solid, if as-yet unrealized, science. One concession was made for the purpose of reducing confusion, and that was to eliminate the huge cooling "wings" which would be needed to radiate the heat produced by the propulsion system. Stanley Kubrick felt that the audience might interpret the wings as meaning that the spacecraft was intended to fly through an atmosphere. Discovery was named after Captain Robert Scott's RRS Discovery, launched 1901; Arthur C. Clarke used to visit the ship when she was moored in London. It shares its name with a real spacecraft, the Space Shuttle Discovery (OV-103).

#mecha #spacecraft

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imaginationintowords · 4 years

Text

Folklore [song series]

the 1

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s relationship throughout the years.

Word count: 2404

Warnings: smut implied, loss of virginity implied, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of abandonment

Previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 26

Year: 2020

Location: Brooklyn, New York

Elizabeth sat on the floor of her mostly empty childhood bedroom. She hasn't been back since Christmas, and that was almost 8 months ago. Her parents called her last month letting her know they are putting the house up for sale, deciding to move to a cottage upstate where it's much quieter.

They had asked if she wanted them to pack up her old bedroom for her, but she told them she would make the trip out to them to spare any storage space the stuff might take up, knowing that only a few special items would need to be kept.

She was sat on the floor going through old photos, the last thing she had to do before she would be done.

Photos from the time she spent here. A pile for which photos she will take back home, and a pile that her parents will keep. She was finally down to the last three photos, all flipped over on their back.

The first one scribbled in her mother's handwriting read:

Steve, Betty, & James. Halloween 2001.

She shakes her head at the nickname, she hasn't been called Betty in almost a decade. The nickname was tarnished, no longer having any special meaning.

She really should've kept it only for family.

She flipped the photo over. There was seven year-old Elizabeth, standing in between a young Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes both had their arms draped around her shoulders. All dressed up as pirates.

She smiled at the memory.

So young. So innocent. So unknowing of what the future held.

She focuses mostly on the boy to her right.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Her first friend here. Her first best friend. Her first kiss.

Her first boyfriend. Her first time having sex. Her first heartbreak.

The boy at the time she didn't know would completely change not only her life, but who she was.

Her first best friend here, she immediately thinks of their first meeting. So kind. Him insisting on teaching her how to ride a bike. Took him two weeks but he did it. That halloween was a memorable one, for both good and bad reasons.

She saw a different side of Bucky after seeing first-hand how his father behaved, due to his alcoholism.

Years later Elizabeth had learned Bucky's father's deepest secret, he had struggled with alcoholism, starting two years before her family moved across the street. It was a secret his family had kept until that Halloween weekend in 2001.

Bucky and his family had spent the weekend with Elizabeth's family, while his uncles came to take his dad away. His father went to go live with Bucky's grandmother and uncles to try and get sober. He returned home after three months, but sadly the disease was a lot stronger than that. His father was fighting a long battle that he was sadly losing.

After a grueling year his mother made the ultimate decision to divorce his father, not wanting to put herself or her children through the dangers once again. Bucky's maternal grandparents moved in to help his now single mother out, seeing as his father was no longer in the picture.

His dad would pop in from time to time never consistent with his visits, after Bucky turned 13 and Becca 10, his dad stopped coming around all together.

His father ended up meeting a woman who helped him get sober, they later on got married and started a new family of their own. Forgetting about the one he had abandoned.

The next photo was dated:

Summer of 2008.

The summer right before they started high school. That was the summer that they all reached peak puberty. Bucky and Steve shot up like weeds, while Elizabeth grew slightly in height. They no longer looked like the pre-pubescent tweens, and officially looked teenagers embarking on their first year of high school.

It was a candid photo of Bucky and Elizabeth at an end of summer party Steve had at his house.

The night of their first kiss together, and Elizabeth's first kiss in general.

It wasn't a cliche kiss that happened because a game of spin the bottle. It was a little more private than that.

Bucky and Elizabeth made their way back home on that cool summer night. The nights had just started to get cooler as the months made the transition from August to September.

"Do you think Steve knows how obvious he's making his crush on Peggy is?" Elizabeth asks breaking the silence of the walk.

"Probably not, I mean the punk is way to oblivious to notice that Peggy also has a crush on him," Bucky laughs, "Plus he's too chicken to even make a move."

"He's just shy," Elizabeth smiles, trying to defend her other best friend.

"Well he isn't going to get the girl by being shy," Bucky says.

"That's what you think," she winks at him.

"What do you know?" he asks her with an accusatory tone.

"That Peggy is going to ask him to go to the movies tomorrow night," Elizabeth recalled from her earlier conversation with Peggy, "That's why she stayed to help cleanup."

"Well then, I stand corrected," he bows his head.

"We should do that," Bucky says after a few moments of silence as they round the corner their houses now in sight.

"Help clean Steve's house?" Elizabeth asked confused.

"No, go to the movies."

"We already do that."

"I meant just us two, no Steve or Rebecca to tag along," Bucky reiterates.

"Like a date," he quietly says looking at his hands.

"Oh," it dawns on Elizabeth.

She felt a blush creep on her cheeks. The cool breeze not helping the warmth spreading throughout her face.

Elizabeth has had a crush on Bucky for as long as she can remember. She just always thought he would never see her in that light. Compared to the girls he's used to liking, she was the polar opposite. Her skin wasn't as pale as their's, she had what her mother called a "Puerto Rican" tan due to where her family lineage is originally from. Her dark curls were always everywhere, even when she had them contained. It's not like she stood out per se, they were surrounded by diversity. She just didn't look like the girls Bucky had a crush on.

"You want to go out on a date, with me?" she hesitantly asks.

"Yeah, I do," he smiles finally looking up to meet her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I like you," he says confused why she would ask that.

"It's okay if you don't want to, I understand," he quickly says when she doesn't say anything. He goes back to looking down and kicking at invisible rocks.

"No," she says grabbing his hand, making them both stop in front of her house, "I do want that."

Bucky looks back up taken back by her response, "Really?"

"Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you," she smiled so big.

"Okay, wow. Cool," Bucky stumbles over his words, his smile matching her's.

"Tomorrow, you and I will go to the movies," he says, squeezing his hand that was still being held by her.

"Perfect."

"Perfect," he whispered staring in her eyes, he glanced down to her lips then back to her eyes.

Elizabeth noticed bucking glancing at her lips, she couldn't help herself and do the same thing.

Bucky grabbed her other hand as he slowly pulled her closer to his body. Leaning his head slightly down. Both closed their eyes and slowly met each other half way, their lips touching in a soft kiss.

What felt like hours, but was only seconds they pulled away slowly. Smiles gracing their faces.

"I'll call you tomorrow for the details," Bucky says.

"Okay. Goodnight," Elizabeth says, still holding onto Bucky's hands.

"Goodnight," Bucky smiles, letting go of her hands before jogging across the street.

Elizabeth had walked up to her porch and turned around to see Bucky turning around from his own porch. She waved and he waved back, their final goodbye for the night.

That was the perfect end to the summer before they had started high school. It was the start of something new and beautiful.

The last photo read:

Winnie and Keith's wedding. 11 Aug. 2010.

She flipped it over to see her and Bucky smiling dressed in formal attire, next to Steve and Peggy.

Bucky's mom did later remarry while they were in high school. She had met a lovely man named Keith, who loved her deeply and her children as if they were his own. He was a good man, someone Bucky really needed in his life.

The photo was taken during the reception. Bright smiles across all of their 16 year old faces.

Both couples had been dating for two years at that point and things were going great.

The smiles showcased how happy they all were. Probably had to do with what they all had planned after the wedding.

They had all convinced their parents into letting them stay at the hotel the reception was at that night, and Bucky would drive them all back home the following day. Their parents had agreed, the only rule is that the girls would stay in a room separately from the boys.

What they know wouldn't hurt them, right?

It was the night they were all planning on losing their virginity. Their hormones were racing, trying to keep it contained as to not draw attention to themselves:

After the wedding they all walked up to the floor they would be staying at. Bucky waited outside the girls' door as Elizabeth gathered her overnight bag, and Steve doing the same from the boys' room.

She walked out with her bag on her shoulder, and a smile on her face.

"Ready?" he asked, grabbing her bag from her shoulder.

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling the nerves start.

Steve walked up to them with his own bag, "See you guys in the morning," he smiled before walking into the room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth could remember that night clearly. She had done a lot of prep beforehand, being an overachiever she needed to know what she was getting herself into. But nothing could prepare her for what had really happened.

It was filled with a lot of stumbling, awkward touches here and there. Both new to this sex thing. She's not going to lie and said it didn't hurt, she had prepared herself for it hurting. It wasn't the best sex she's had, but it was a moment she wouldn't forget.

After they were done they were cuddled in bed, Elizabeth's head resting on Bucky's chest as he smoothly raked his fingers across her arm.

"11:11, make a wish," Elizabeth whispered, closing her eyes.

"What'd you wish for?" Bucky asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you," she said, turning her body to lean on his chest to come face to face with him, "I can't tell you what I wish for, otherwise it won't come true."

"And how many times do I have to tell you, that that's not true," he teased.

"Well, you have yet to prove me wrong," she smiled.

"Come on, just this once."

"You," she stated, feeling the blush creep on her cheeks.

"What about me?"

"I wished for you," she says, "You and I. For us to have many more moments like this."

"Well doll, your wish is my command," he joked.

"I'm serious Bucky."

"So am I," his tone getting serious, "I love you Betty. It's you and me. Forever."

"Promise?" she held up her pinky.

"Promise." he linked his with hers.

They trusted each other. They were comfortable with each other. They had loved each other. And honestly that's all that mattered.

Now as an adult she realized how important your first time was. It was important that her first time was with Bucky, because she never regretted until she had.

She had really thought Bucky was the one. They would always talk about their futures together. What college they would attend together. When they would get married. Where they would live. How many kids they would have. All of it they had planned together. A future that didn't seem like just a dream.

Sadly with every first love comes every first heartbreak.

Her grandmother once told her that the greatest loves of all time were over now.

She had thought that when her relationship with Bucky had ended.

It truly felt like the end of the world. Like any breakup at that age felt like. She had sworn she would never feel love again. Her mother, Caterina telling her to just wait and see.

Caterina didn't believe in her own mother's words about greatest loves being over, because she was experiencing her's. She promised Elizabeth that she would experience her greatest love story when the time was right.

At the time Elizabeth didn't believe her mother. How could she when her heart was aching.

But like all the times before, her mother would be right.

She looked at the last three photos in her hands. Without a second thought she placed the Halloween photo in the take pile and the other two in the parents' pile.

A soft knock on the door frame startled her, she looked behind to find the man she has called her's for the last few years. Her greatest love.

She couldn't help the smile that came across her face whenever she would see him.

"Ready?" he asks, a smile upon his face, as he leans up against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, let me just put these back in the box for my parents," she tells him cleaning up the photos and taking the ones she kept for herself.

"Look at this one I found," she says showing him the Halloween photo.

"Oh my gosh, we were so little," he smiles and laughs lightly raising his arm for her to go under, "Gosh I was such a dork."

"Was?" she playfully jokes, wrapping her arm around his waist and snuggling into his side as they head towards the stairs in each other's arms.

"Hey you fell in love with this dork," he jokes back.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way Steve," she smiles leaning up to kiss his lips.

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1962dude420-blog · 3 years

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Today we remember the passing of Dennis Hopper who Died: May 29, 2010 in Los Angeles, California

Dennis Lee Hopper (May 17, 1936 – May 29, 2010) was an American actor, filmmaker, and visual artist. He attended the Actors Studio, made his first television appearance in 1954, and soon after appeared in Giant (1956). In the next ten years he made a name in television, and by the end of the 1960s had appeared in several films, notably Cool Hand Luke (1967) and Hang 'Em High (1968). Hopper also began a prolific and acclaimed photography career in the 1960s.

Hopper made his directorial film debut with Easy Rider (1969), which he and co-star Peter Fonda wrote with Terry Southern. The film earned Hopper a Cannes Film Festival Award for "Best First Work" and a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay (shared with Fonda and Southern). Journalist Ann Hornaday wrote: "With its portrait of counterculture heroes raising their middle fingers to the uptight middle-class hypocrisies, Easy Rider became the cinematic symbol of the 1960s, a celluloid anthem to freedom, macho bravado and anti-establishment rebellion". Film critic Matthew Hays wrote "no other persona better signifies the lost idealism of the 1960s than that of Dennis Hopper".

Following the critical and commercial failure of his second film as director, The Last Movie (1971), he worked on various independent and foreign projects – in which he was frequently typecast as mentally disturbed outsiders in such films as Mad Dog Morgan (1976) and The American Friend (1977) – until he found new fame for his role as an American photojournalist in Apocalypse Now (1979). He went on to helm his third directorial work Out of the Blue (1980), for which he was again honored at Cannes, and appeared in Rumble Fish (1983) and The Osterman Weekend (1983). He saw a career resurgence in 1986 when he was widely acclaimed for his performances in Blue Velvet and Hoosiers, the latter of which saw him nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. His fourth directorial outing came about through Colors (1988), followed by an Emmy-nominated lead performance in Paris Trout (1991). In 1990, Dennis Hopper directed The Hot Spot, which was not a box-office hit. Hopper found greater fame for portraying the villains of the films Super Mario Bros. (1993), Speed (1994) and Waterworld (1995).

Hopper's later work included a leading role in the short-lived television series Crash (2008–2009), inspired by the film of the same name. He appeared in three films released posthumously: Alpha and Omega (2010), The Last Film Festival (2016) and the long-delayed The Other Side of the Wind (2018), which had been filmed in the early 1970s.

On September 28, 2009, Hopper, then 73, was reportedly brought by ambulance to an unidentified Manhattan hospital wearing an oxygen mask and "with numerous tubes visible". On October 2, he was discharged, after receiving treatment for dehydration.

On October 29, Hopper's manager Sam Maydew reported that he had been diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer. In January 2010, it was reported that Hopper's cancer had metastasized to his bones.

On March 18, 2010, he was honored with the 2,403rd star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in front of Grauman's Egyptian Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard. Surrounded by friends including Jack Nicholson, Viggo Mortensen, David Lynch, Michael Madsen, family and fans, he attended its addition to the sidewalk six days later.

By March 2010, Hopper reportedly weighed only 100 pounds (45 kg) and was unable to carry on long conversations. According to papers filed in his divorce court case, Hopper was terminally ill and was unable to undergo chemotherapy to treat his prostate cancer.

Hopper died at his home in the coastal Venice district of Los Angeles, aged 74, on the morning of May 29, 2010. His funeral took place on June 3, 2010, at San Francisco de Asis Mission Church in Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico. His body was buried at the Jesus Nazareno Cemetery in Ranchos de Taos.

#May 29 #2010 #R.I.P.#Dennis Hopper #Legend #actor #director #photographer

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goingoverthegardenwall · 5 years

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Chapter 6: Lullaby in Frogland

Let’s look back. Way back. Back before the dawn of animation, before the dawn of film, well before Ruby or Spears or Disney or Iwerks or either Fleischer Brother. Back to 1835, in a town named Florida in a state named Missouri when a boy named Samuel was born.

Like Ub Iwerks, Sam was raised in Missouri. And like Max Fleischer, Sam’s family took a financial hit when his father’s work stopped (this time due to a premature death rather than the decline of tailory), giving Sam a practical approach to employment. He left school at age eleven to become a printer’s apprentice, then moved to his older brother’s newspaper as a typesetter and occasional columnist, writing humorous articles and drawing cartoons. But unlike Beatrix Potter or the animators we’ve covered, visual art wasn’t in the cards for Sam.

He moved to the East Coast to work for other papers, bouncing between cities before returning to the midwest to embark on a career he’d dreamed of since he was old enough to dream: piloting a steamboat. He thrived on the water, and kept writing about his work along the river, but everything stopped when the Civil War closed off the Mississippi. So Sam headed west to work for the same brother who once ran the newspaper, now a politician in Nevada (I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that this brother was for some reason named Orion). Sam tried mining, and it didn’t take, but he’d gotten pretty good at writing and set off for San Francisco to get back into his jocular brand of journalism.

It was here that he had his first success, a short story published in his paper called Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog. But, like a certain frog we’ve covered in this series, Sam wasn’t huge on permanent names. Within a month, the story was reprinted as The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and Jim Smiley’s name was changed to Jim Greeley. Until the book version came out, when it was changed back to Jim Smiley. And this whole time, within the story, it’s a mystery whether Jim’s real name is actually Leonidas (it turns out that it isn’t, but it might be). None of this should come as a surprise for Samuel Clemens, who wrote under the names of Josh, Thomas Jefferson Snodgrass, and most famously, Mark Twain.

“I knew you were special.”

Over the Garden Wall is, among other things, a story about the importance of solid communication. After five episodes spent building up our heroes as a group of friends, all it takes is one episode of terrible communication to throw it all away. The specific issues vary, despite leading to a similar result of not verbalizing their thoughts very well: Greg’s youth stops him from articulating his rapidly changing ideas, Wirt’s anxiety leaves him too timid to speak up or too rambling to be clear, Beatrice’s true intentions make her obfuscate the truth, and Jason Funderburker straight-up can’t talk. Or so we think.

This time he’s named for American statesmen George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, which fits the continuing vintage Americana vibe of the series—while I figure it’s a coincidence, it should be noted that Mark Twain’s Jumping Frog was named after American statesman Daniel Webster. Surrounded by other frogs that walk around and wear fancy garb, our frog is more anthropomorphic than ever, standing on his hind legs and dancing along with Greg. But it’s still a shock to hear him open his mouth and sing, a shock that soon cedes to the realization that the frog playing the piano at the beginning of the series is singing the Jack Jones song in the montage that follows.

Lullaby in Frogland is Jason Funderburker’s episode through and through, so much so that it’s the first time we hear of his namesake, Jason Funderberker. This is an episode where Wirt rejects Greg’s assertion that their frog is “our frog,” a plot point that’s paid off in their last conversation in the series. This is an episode where Greg wonders aloud if he can be a hero, sees the frog set off on a diverging path immediately afterwards, and accepts it, because he’s willing to sacrifice his happiness for the good of others. And it’s an episode where the frog returns after a harrowing betrayal, showing that even when all seems lost, there’s still room for hope. Over the Garden Wall (the song) might not sound like a traditional lullaby, but it soothes us into a cold night as the sun sets on the first half of Over the Garden Wall (the show).

Adelaide’s true nature is foreshadowed by Beatrice’s sudden hesitance to bring the brothers to the pasture after several episodes of nagging, but the twist is made tragic by Wirt finally letting his guard down enough to be happy. He sings a completed Adelaide Parade with Greg and joins the dance before collapsing into the most earnest laughter I’ve ever heard in a cartoon. He’s a good enough friend to notice when Beatrice is “uncharacteristically wistful,” and takes a risk by playing the bassoon instead of just giving up. He’s still got growing to do—it’s one thing to blame Greg for getting them in trouble by throwing away the ferry fare and forcing them to sneak aboard, but another thing to literally shout “Take him, not me!” when confronted by the frog fuzz—so it’s clear that his journey isn’t over yet, but he doesn’t even get a full episode of peace before everything blows up.

The whole steamboat sequence flows between simple delights, like saluting the captain mid-chase, the revelation that the frogs love music more than they hate trespassers, and the repeated gags of three gentlemen frogs snatching up flying flies and a frog mother dropping her tadpoles. Everything just feels calm, even when antics are afoot. Wirt gets to save the day with his bassooning, Greg gets to feel rewarded in his knowledge that his frog is special, Jason gets to sing a song after being silent throughout the series, and Beatrice seems, for now, to come to a sort of peace about things after several clear attempts to sidetrack the boys. This is the only episode to feature two major stories instead of one, but the steamer segment is rich enough to feel like a full episode. If only we could’ve stopped here.

All roads lead to Twain when it comes to depictions of steamboats as a go-to American icon, which is why he preceded this discussion of Lullaby in Frogland: I’m not claiming Mickey Mouse wouldn’t have been successful if his first cartoon was about something else, but I’m certainly claiming that we wouldn’t have gotten Steamboat Willie as it was if Ub Iwerks hadn’t grown up in a Missouri whose lore was shaped by Twain’s tales of the river. But while the author is the root of the episode’s many influences, I think the most fascinating branch that we borrow from is The Princess and the Frog.

2009 was a great year for animation, seeing the release of Coraline, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Secret of Kells, the surprisingly great Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, and the first ten minutes of Up (also the rest of Up, if I’m feeling generous). The first two on that list are my favorite of the year, twin stop-motion masterpieces that I’m always in the mood to watch, but The Princess and the Frog is a brilliant last gasp from Disney’s 2D animation studio. It isn’t the final traditionally animated film they made (that would be 2011′s Winnie the Pooh), nor the final fully sincere princess movie they made (that would be 2010′s Tangled), but it marks the beginning of the end for both trends: for better and worse, modern Disney animation feels the need to loudly subvert old tropes and wouldn’t be caught dead in two dimensions.

Lullaby in Frogland’s connection to The Princess and the Frog is certainly visible on the surface level: both feature a long sequence starring frogs on a steamboat where a lead character must pretend to be another animal and play a woodwind instrument to get out of a jam, and both involve our heroes seeking help from a wise woman far from civilization (even if only one of these women is actually helpful). But it’s the somber nostalgia factor that binds these stories closer than anything, the knowledge that this is the end of the road for this type of tale. The ferry’s gotta land somewhere, and the cold is setting in as the frogs begin hibernating for the winter, but there’s still more story to tell.

The second story of Lullaby in Frogland is scored throughout by a haunting string and piano rendition of Adelaide Parade, and Adelaide herself is immediately captivating. John Cleese returns for the second episode in a row, but as both of these episodes aired the same night, it feels like a consistent through-line: in the first half, he’s an eccentric who might be a deranged maniac but is actually harmless, and now he’s a witch who might be harmless but is actually a deranged maniac.

Adelaide gets a compelling amount of detail for someone who’s barely in the show. We don’t get any explanation about her fatal weakness to...fresh air? Coldness in general? Either way, like the Wicked Witch of the West’s lethal reaction to water, it’s absurd that someone like her has managed to live this long. She never says what she needs a child servant for, why she has scissors that seem custom-made for Beatrice’s specific curse, or what her spider-like deal with yarn and wool is (she has a black widow hourglass on her back, but also reminds me of the Greek Fates with her emphasis on thread). We never find out how she’s connected to the Beast, whose theme bleeds into her music as she proclaims, without much prompting, that she follows his commands; her goal of using children as zombie slaves seems counter to his goal of turning them into trees to fuel his soul lantern. But this blend of unexplained characteristics and seemingly inconsistent motives only makes her more enthralling to me, because she feels like the major villain of another story who just happens to intersect with ours.

What makes Adelaide even more compelling on rewatch is that her scissors, despite their gruesome method for curing the curse, do end up working. Which means she did mean to help Beatrice out as part of the deal. At no point does Adelaide lie, and given Beatrice knows she’s bad news as she lures the brothers in, it becomes clear that for all her villainy, Adelaide is an honest witch. I’m always down for baddies that tell the truth, but it’s of particular interest when we compare her to the Beast, whose whole deal is lying.

The only liar in this episode is Beatrice, even if she wanted to set things straight without hurting anyone; she values her friendship with the boys so much now that she’d rather make herself a servant to Adelaide than just tell them she’s dangerous and reveal that she lied. By the time she’s willing to tell the truth, it’s too late, and not even saving Greg and Wirt by killing Adelaide is enough for Wirt to forgive her. Considering he knows in The Unknown that the scissors he uses to escape the yarn can save her family, he was also listening in on the end of the conversation before entering the house, which means he must have heard that she was willing to sacrifice herself, but that doesn’t matter either. Beatrice gave the boys hope, and no matter how badly she tried to stop it, the encounter with Adelaide transforms Wirt. Where he was once nervous and unsure, and was then briefly optimistic, he’s now sullen and untrusting.

But again, in comes Jason Funderburker, croaking and hopping on all fours once more to bring some light to the darkening series. He doesn’t do much for Wirt, but allows Greg to quickly get over whatever trauma he had about getting webbed up in yarn; he’s remarkably quiet about it, but it’s important to remember that he was betrayed, too. Whether he doesn’t understand exactly what happened or is just quicker to forgive, Greg is fine with Beatrice, allowing us to focus harder on Wirt’s reaction from now on.

It’s all rain and winter for Wirt until the end of his adventure. But the show isn’t content to leave him even slightly forlorn: when it gets too dark, he has a frog to swallow a lantern to light the way, and when it gets too cold, he has a brother to cover him in leaves, and when he falls, he has Beatrice to help pull him back up. Even the Woodsman tries to save him in his own way (talk about folks who are bad at communication). Bad things happen, and people make mistakes, but the bigger mistake is allowing that to close you off to others, or to never forgive friends that are genuinely sorry. Our heroes have taken the ferry to the other side, and now the story can shift to one about the folly of abandoning all hope.

Where have we come, and where shall we end?

On top of Jason Funderberker, who’s set up as a major rival to make his eventual reveal one of the show’s best jokes, Wirt gives Beatrice a general summary of Into the Unknown three episodes before we see it play out.

#lullaby in frogland #over the garden wall #otgw #steven universally #mark twain #the princess and the frog

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dc-fics-and-pics · 5 years

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YJ SuperboyXReader

promt:Could you write a cute Conner (Young Justice 2010 cartoon) x short & kind! Reader oneshot, where Reader (a clone of Emma Frost) and her boyfriend (Conner) are suddenly stranded on a beautiful tropical island? From Reader's POV?

Just a quick trip he said. You will be back in a week he said. Nothing will go wrong he said. He said we have to take a quick boat ride from Miami to Peurto Rico. He said that there was some Young Justice business to be taken care of. He said he had other business so you have to do it. You said hell no. Conner said nothing.

Ever since you joined the young justice team Nightwing had sent you off on little missions with Conner. Anytime he was to busy or didn't feel the need for the whole team to do something you and Conner were sent away. On the travels around the globe, you and COnner had grown to be very close. You learned to get to know him and even develope a crush on your assigned partner. So when Conner asked you out on a date out of the blue while on a plane to Huston Texas you were very quick to except.

You had never cared about all the places you had to travel. You didn't mind the long car rides or flights, but you told Nightwing day one that under no circumstance would you ever take a boat anywhere.

Here you are though. Rocking back and forth gripping a petal bar for dear life as your stomach threatens to burst.

Not one for confrontation you reluctantly agreed after hours of begging your team leader to not make you go on this trip. However, he never did inform you of where you were passing through. You had already stepped on the boat with Conner the rest of the team waiving you off from the deck.

As you clenched onto Conners's hand he uttered a sentence that made you want to fling yourself into the water below you, "I've always wanted to go through the Bermuda Triangle."

You were shocked at first remembering the geography of where you were sailing. Then jumping overboard crossed your mind. You had seen the movies and read the books. Not only where you already afraid of sailing you now had to sail through what you deemed was the scariest part of the ocean.

A quick conversation with lagoon boy made your fears double after the many stories he had of the devil's triangle and the creatures that lurk within it.

Your ship was small and Conner was the captain. He had said he was "programmed" with the knowledge to sail but that didn't ease your worries. You tried to leave after hearing what he said but he was already sailing away from the pier, the team shrinking from your sight.

Finally, your stomach decides enough is enough and it releases your breakfast into the water below.

Conner rubs a soothing hand on your back and you relax into his gentle touch. You turn around pushing your head into his chest letting his arms wrap around your back easing away your fears and anxiety.

Lighting strikes about you with a loud crack. You jump in Conners's arms and he looks up at the sky. It is now you notice the dark clouds that loom above you. Suddenly you grow very aware of the state you are in. Out at sea in the Bermuda triangle with a storm about to commence. Thunder ripples through the clouds and a bright flash of blue lights up the dark sky.

Rain patters on the deck of the boat and you and Conner both scurry into the shelter as the rain grows heavy. Thunder booms and lighting follows all while the rain drenches the deck. The soft sway of the boat turns into a lurching rock that doesn't ease your already upset stomach. The waves crash up around the side of the sip. It looks as if the ocean is trying to jump onto the boat, some harsh waves accomplish this and flood the once dry floor. Conner is gone from you now trying to save you both from the harsh waves swallowing up the ship. Your boat seems to sink under the waves letting them tower above you looming up high before they crash down on you.

You can no longer distinguish ocean from rain. All you see is water around you that threatens to swallow you up. The once soothing sound of oceans played to help people fall asleep is now so loud you wonder how anyone could find it soothing. More waves hop over the rails drenching the ground outside and you wonder if this is the way you will go. You wonder why you agreed to do this. You wonder why you ever ran from your Earth. You wonder why you ever came here. You wonder until you can't wonder anymore.

~~~~

The ground is hot underneath you, the sound of squawking birds fill your ears. Opening your palms you can feel sand in your hands, Your eyes fly open and you take in your surrounding. You lay on a white sandy beach. Turning your head you can see Conners sleeping form next to you.

Shaking him relentlessly," Conner wake-up!" you yell.

Conner opens his eyes slowly but once he settles on you and the serene behind you he sits up quickly looking around at the ocean threatening to grab him. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." You both stand up shaking the sand off your bodies. The ship you were once on is perched on the sand not far from you.

Walking up to it Conner fiddles with the large machine before deciding its broken. You decide to leave Conner with the ship and venture into the tropical jungle on the other side of the beach. You look around at the surrounding trees and vines. Bushes rustle as you pass but you can never catch a glips of any animals. A large palm tree looms above you, at the top, you spot some coconuts. You decide to head back to conner and get him to climb the tree to fetch you guys some coconuts. When you get back to the recked ship you can feel his frustration. As soon as you get close you can hear him cursing in his minds. You try not to use your powers to read Conner's mind because you know you don't like it but he is almost projecting his thoughts onto you. You come up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder. He sighs looking at you you decide to here give him a quick kiss before telling him about your discovery.

"I found some coconuts on a tree back in the jungle can you climb up there and get some?"

"Of course." He smiles at you before kissing you again and you lead him to the tree. As you pass the rustling in the bushes doesn't stop. COnner seems to notice to and looks around each time it happens. He follows behind you on the narrow path. The rustling gets louder and you hear a shriek come from behind you. "Monkeys!"

You whip around thinking a monkey has attacked conner. A small little chimp sits on a branch looking at Conner who has retreated backward against a tree. ANothe Monkey crawls from the tree he leans on and puts a hand on his shoulder he yelps again and runs behind you as you burst out laughing. You know that Conner doesn't like monkeys but he doesn't like a lot of things. You shrug him off and go up to the chimp, "Hi little guy."

"Y/N stay away from that thing." Conner tries to grab your hand and pull you away but you move away from him. "C' mon Y/N lets go."

you sigh and continue down the path. Conner jumps every time a bush rustles or a twig breaks. You laugh at how scared he is until you come to the patch of palm trees. Conner grabs on and climbs the tree. You are surprised at how fast he is able to scale the large tree. When he gets to the top you notice a couple of the cute little chimps who poke their head out. You look around and notice the hundreds of little heads watching conner at the top of the tree and can't help but get a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. "Hey, Conner babe I think you should come down!"

"It's fine Y/N," he shouts back down to you and you let it go. He grabs one of the coconuts and yanks it off the tree. As soon as he does the herd of monkeys race up at him. He shouts and let's go falling down from the tree.

"Conner are you okay?" you ask as he lays on the ground.

He gets up quickly tucking the coconut under his arm, "Run."

You both sprint down the narrow path as the hoard of monkeys race behind you. You sprint until you can see the beach coming into your vision. Some of the monkeys leap at the coconut in Conners's arm but he moves it away dodging their attempts. You both jump out of the jungle onto the hot sandy beach and the chimps screech at you from the treas. The stay in the jungle and you and Conner laugh victoriously from the beach. You both take the coconut back to the ship and conner cracks it open. You drink the coconut water and Conner eats the meat of it.

~~~~

When you both had gotten sick of coconut you decide to build a fire. On the beach, you gather some twigs and logs and make a pile. Using some alcohol and a lighter that you found in the ship you are able to start the fire. You sit beside it until it starts to get dark. You leave the fire going all night while you both sleep in the ship. You both curl up on the small bed in the boat.

When morning comes you forget that you are shipwrecked on a deserted island. You curl into conner for a little longer until he wakes up. When he does he restarts the fire to alert any passing planes and you both decide not to go back into the jungle and that you would take your shot at fishing.

The boat didn't have any fishing rods so you watch from the beach as a shirtless Conner jumps around in the water attempting to grab a fish with his bare hands. "Y/N, come help me!" he yells from the ocean. You sigh and trudge into the cold water next to him. The water goes up to his pecs but it goes up to your shoulders. When you start to see some fish swim at your feet you both dive down trying to grab some but the all swim around you not even gracing your fingers.

After the fourth time of trying to grab fish, you get bored and splash Conner. His once dry face now has water running down his pouting face. You giggle at him and he splashes you back. It turns into a water fight. You are both splashing each other. Your hair is soaking wet and you tackle him into the water fully submerging you both. You wrestle around in the water till it isn't wrestling. It starts with you quickly pecking him on the lips. When you try and pull away he holds your head in place and kisses you again.. You can taste the salty water on his lips and you smile into the kiss. He grabs under you legs lifting you up for you to wrap your legs around his waist. You shiver when the soft breeze blows the cold water droplets on your body. Your kiss is interrupted by the familiar laughing of Gar. Conner drops you in the water and you look over at the bioship that had magically appeared above you.

Nightwing pops his head out of the open hanger with a megaphone, "Hey we are here to save you." He pauses for a minute, "We can go if you want to continue,"

"NO!" you and conner both shout.

The ship pulls around landing on the small beach in front of you blowing some of the sand underneath it. You both trudge out of the water and grab your stuff out of the wrecked ship and run into the ship. The team sits inside the ship Snickering. You roll your eyes and scowl at Nightwing you avoid your gaze. You plop into your seat next to conner. Your wet clothes squish when you sit.

You mumble, "I am never going on a boat again."

#Superboy #superboy x reader #young justice #y/n #superboy x yn #reader insert #x reader #dc #dc comics #conner kent #kent

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starletwriting · 5 years

Text

Killervibe Fic Week Day One: Fake Dating

Word Count: 3063

Notes: Occurs in the place of 5x07 (the season five Thanksgiving episode).

Tags: @thatkillervibe @shakesqueer-writes @narniasfinestavengingsociopath

~~~

“I need a really big favor.”

Cisco looked up from the tech he was working on and faced Caitlin. “Yeah?”

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Cisco raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the request. What for?”

“My mom invited me to Thanksgiving with the extended family this year. I tried to get out of it by telling her I was spending Thanksgiving with my boyfriend, but then she insisted that I bring my boyfriend along with me.” Caitlin said. “I had to tell her it was a boyfriend. She wouldn’t have gotten off my case if it were anything else.”

“So you need me to pretend to be that boyfriend?” Cisco asked. “Why not Barry?”

“He’s spending Thanksgiving with Iris and Nora. This is his first Thanksgiving with his daughter, I’m not gonna take that away.” Caitlin said. “Please, man, you’re my only option.”

“Alright.” Cisco slowly nodded. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Caitlin beamed. “Anything you need in return, it’s yours.”

“If I ever need a favor, I’ll be sure to let you know. Besides,” Cisco met her eyes with a soft, caring gaze. “I’m not about to subject my best friend to the wrath of a judgemental mother alone. I know what that’s like. My mom was always asking me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend, when I’m gonna get married, when I’m gonna give her grandchildren.”

“See? That’s why I need you.” Caitlin rested a hand on Cisco’s shoulder. “You get me.”

“Hey, you know I’m always here for you. Even if that includes being your fake boyfriend for some family Thanksgiving you don’t really wanna go to.”

“Like I said.” Caitlin chuckled softly. “You get me.”

~~~

The smell of food filled the entire house. The turkey was still warm from the oven, golden-brown and rich, and surrounded by plenty of sides to go around. Cisco hadn’t left Caitlin’s side since they got there, and even now, he was sitting in the seat next to her. He was mostly making harmless small-talk with Caitlin’s relatives, talking about his job at Star Labs or his family, anything they asked. A few of them asked about his relationship with Caitlin. As someone who kept a whole secret superhero identity, Cisco had gotten used to lying. However, he found that lying about being in a romantic relationship with Caitlin was a lot easier than he expected.

“So, Cisco,” Caitlin’s mother passed the mashed potatoes to him, along with a side of gravy. “How did you and my daughter start dating?”

“Well,” Cisco looked over at Caitlin to his left, meeting her eyes with the softest loving gaze he could muster. It wasn’t hard, looking at her. Then he turned back to Caitlin’s mother. “Caitlin has been my coworker and best friend for years. Spending all that time with her, I got to know her as the truly amazing, wonderful person she is… the feelings came naturally. I eventually mustered up the courage to confess, and well… look at where we are now.”

“Aww, that’s sweet!” One of Caitlin’s cousins piped in.

“Cisco is truly the best boyfriend I could ask for. We go for coffee dates at Jitters so often, the staff practically recognizes us. If I’m having a bad day, all it takes is one text and this guy will show up at my door with chocolates and a movie. He’s the most thoughtful, most considerate guy I know, and I’m so lucky to have him in my life. And I…” Caitlin laced her fingers in with Cisco’s, and gently squeezed his hand in hers. “I love him.”

“You guys are too cute!”

“Alright, enough.” Caitlin’s uncle teased. “You’re gonna make the rest of us jealous.”

Everyone at the table laughed heartily, and the conversation changed. Instead, they were discussing sports and the Macy’s Day Parade, and Caitlin and Cisco were off the hook. It was only when Caitlin let go of Cisco’s hand to grab some green beans that they both realized how long she had been holding it. Cisco and Caitlin both blushed, and then desperately tried to change the subject.

Cisco was asked multiple times about what he does at Star Labs, but Cisco didn’t mind explaining. Caitlin’s family seemed to respect that he was a mechanical engineer. They asked about what it’s like living in Central City with all the meta attacks, to which Cisco tried to answer in the most vague way possible as to not reveal that he’s a meta himself, and one of the heroes stopping the attacks. Caitlin’s mother seemed particularly skeptical of Cisco’s answer on that question, but Cisco understood why. Dr. Tannhauser knows about her daughter’s superhero life. It wouldn’t take a genius for her to gather that Cisco is involved, too.

After dinner, Caitlin and Cisco helped clear off the table. The leftover food was placed into containers or wrapped in tin foil to be saved for later. Caitlin’s mother offered Cisco some leftover turkey to bring home with him, and he took it because he didn’t want to be rude. He figured he could have it for dinner one night when he didn’t feel like cooking or stopping by Big Belly Burger on the way home from work.

The evening was coming to a close and the sun was setting in the distance. And yet, no one was quite ready to leave. The kids were upstairs playing with action figures, the adults were downstairs talking. Cisco and Caitlin managed to get away from the small talk for a bit, and Caitlin decided to bring Cisco upstairs and show him around her childhood home. After all, the house was a large part of Caitlin’s childhood, and she wanted to share that with her best friend.

“This was my bedroom for twelve years.” Caitlin said. “Over there, I had a bulletin board with notes, pictures, postcards, et cetera. And over here,” Caitlin opened up her closet and took out an old, battered stuffed animal. “I had all my stuffed animals. This one was my favorite when I was about ten. I think his name was Oscar.”

Cisco took the stuffed animal and held it ever-so-gently in his hands. “He looks like an Oscar.”

Caitlin walked over to the other side of her room, where she had a telescope positioned so that it was looking right out her window. She turned to Cisco. “My dad got me this telescope for my ninth birthday. I had practically begged him for it for years.”

“Wow, this is nice.” Cisco walked over and peered through the telescope. “You can see Mars from here.”

“My dad and I spent so many nights together just looking at the stars, identifying constellations.” Caitlin said. “He would make some astrological pun and I would laugh, and he’d make another and I’d keep laughing. Mom would hear us down the hall and remind us that it’s late, and it was a school night. Dad would just make me promise to wake up for school the next day, and we’d continue looking at the stars until one of us got too tired.”

Cisco wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Caitlin grabbed a photo frame off of her dresser and showed it to Cisco. Cisco blew off some of the dust.

It was a picture of the Snow family. Caitlin looked about eight or nine in the picture. Her brown hair was woven into two little twin braids that rested on her shoulders. She was wearing a floral print dress and holding hands with both of her parents on either side of her. Her dad was smiling in the camera with a loving gaze that Cisco had never seen from Thomas Snow, and her mom was laughing- something Cisco had never seen Carla Tannhauser do. Cisco held the picture delicately in his hands.

It wasn’t just a picture. It was a piece of Caitlin’s childhood.

“We did a photoshoot in the park for our Christmas cards. The photo turned out really nice, so Mom got it framed. I’ve had it ever since.” Caitlin said. “Those were simpler times, y’know? That was before Dad was Icicle, before I was Killer Frost, before Mom grew distant. Back when my main worry was stupid Lexi LaRoche.”

Cisco wrapped his arm around Caitlin’s shoulder, offering her a comforting side-hug. He set the photo back down on her dresser, then turned back to Caitlin and brushed her hair behind her ear. “You know I’m here for you, right? No matter what happens with Icicle, no matter what happens with Cicada. You and I, we’re a team. I dare fate to try to seperate us. I’m always going to have your back.”

“Thank you, Cisco.” The warmth in Caitlin’s eyes reflected her gratitude more than words ever could. “And, you know… The present is certainly different from the past, but it’s not necessarily worse.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Caitlin nodded. “Because right now, you’re here with me.”

Cisco couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “You’re a sap.”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe so.” Caitlin laughed. “C’mon, let’s head out. It’s getting late.”

The two of them walked back downstairs and said their polite thank yous and goodbyes to Caitlin’s family before heading out the door. Cisco twirled the keys around his finger as he walked down the sidewalk, and only stopped once they reached the car, in order to open and start it. Once Cisco had pulled out of the driveway, Caitlin began searching the radio for something to listen to.

“Why are they playing so many songs from 2009-2010?” Caitlin asked.

“I have no idea, but I’m not complaining.” Cisco shrugged. “2009 songs weren’t half bad.”

“You also unironically like Rick Astley so I don’t know if I trust your music taste.”

“Ouch. That hurts.”

“What, me saying I don’t like your music taste?”

“Yes, exactly that. I hold my music taste in high regards, thank you very much.”

“Wait- shh.”

Cisco glanced at Caitlin with a curious eyebrow raised, silently asking her what the matter was. Caitlin only leaned forward to adjust the volume on the radio, making the current song loud enough for Cisco to hear.

“Oh my god, they’re playing Poker Face.”

Caitlin nodded. “Cisco, this is like our song.”

“From the very first time we met Barry.” Cisco said. “It feels like forever ago.”

“Five years is a long time.”

“Sing with me.”

Caitlin laughed. “What?”

“Sing along with me.” Cisco looked at her with a certain playful glint in his eyes, one that he knew she couldn’t say no to. “C’mon, you know the lyrics.”

“You’re driving!”

“So? I’ve been driving long enough to know how to focus on the road and sing at the same time.” Cisco said. “Besides, there’s not that many cars out tonight.”

“I’m not the best singer.”

“Who cares? It’s just us.” Cisco offered his signature smile, the one he knew Caitlin couldn’t say no to. “C’mon. Sing with me.”

“Oh, alright, alright.” Caitlin gave in. She couldn’t resist smiling a bit at Cisco’s playfulness. He always knew the best way to persuade her. “But you start.”

“Alright, deal.”

Cisco started off humming the tune, then progressed into actually singing the words. Caitlin joined in, singing quietly at first, but she got gradually louder as she grew more comfortable. Cisco was right. She knew the lyrics. It was only the two of them. There was no harm in letting loose a little.

Towards the end of the song, the both of them were belting the lyrics into air-microphones they pretended to hold in their hands. When the time the last note played, they burst into a fit of giggles, sounding less like adults and more like schoolchildren. Cisco was intent on staying focused on the road, but he took the liberty of taking one hand off the wheel to playfully shove Caitlin’s shoulder.

“See? I knew you’d have fun.”

“Alright, alright. You were righ-”

Caitlin trailed off as she heard the car engine began sputtering and slowing down. She looked at Cisco, who met her eyes with a concerned gaze of his own. He trailed off to the side of the road and managed to park the car on the dirt before it completely broke down. The two of them immediately unbuckled and got out of the car to take a look at what went wrong. Cisco popped the hood to try to understand what happened, but even he couldn’t figure it out.

“Maybe your car’s just old.” Caitlin suggested.

“Hey, don’t insult her like that.” Cisco rubbed the side of the car’s hood, as if comforting it. “She works great for her age.”

Caitlin laughed. “You’re a weirdo.”

“Oh my god.” Cisco gasped, as if a realization had just dawned on him. “The battery.”

“What about it?”

“I was supposed to replace the battery and I completely forgot.”

“Ah, so that’s it.”

“Look, in my defense, life has been kinda crazy for us lately. We had just defeated Devoe- and Devoe was rough- when Barry and Iris’s daughter from the future shows up, and just her being here is causing timeline changes everywhere, and apparently now there’s a new supervillain named Cicada, and he can dampen our powers with that dagger of his. So yeah, I maybe forgot about a few things from my non-superhero life.”

“I don’t blame you.” Caitlin said. “I know firsthand how crazy life has been.”

“Hang on, maybe I can call someone for help. I wonder if Barry’s willing to come get us.”

“Couldn’t you breach us?”

Cisco held up his hands, showing Caitlin the white bandages tied around them. “My powers are still dampened from the shrapnel, remember?”

“Right. Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay. Lemme call Barry or Iris and see if they can come get us.”

Cisco made a quick phone call. Caitlin decided to wait in the car, so she got back in the passenger’s seat and waited to hear from Cisco. Once Cisco hung up, he climbed into the driver’s seat next to Caitlin and placed his phone down on the dashboard.

“Barry’s coming to pick us up.” He said. “He’s taking Iris’s car. We can call a tow truck for my own car, seeing as how there’s no way Iris’s will be able to tow it.”

“Alright.” Caitlin said. “So I guess now the only thing to do is wait.”

“I’m sorry. You’d probably be home by now if we hadn’t broken down.”

“What’re you apologizing for? It’s not like you planned on it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Cisco sighed and leaned back against his seat. “Still, though. Even with your family’s constant questions… I’m glad I came with you tonight.”

“Yeah?” Caitlin turned to him. “Even though my uncles wouldn’t stop asking you about baseball?”

Cisco laughed. “I was really confused. I really haven’t got a clue about baseball. But yes, even then.”

“Well, good. I’m glad you came out with me tonight, too.”

“Honestly, it’s better than eating store-bought turkey while watching Star Wars alone in my apartment, which is honestly probably what I would’ve done.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have let you be alone for Thanksgiving. I would’ve invited you over.”

“That’s nice of you. Thanks.”

“Y’know,” Caitlin readjusted her position so that she could face Cisco without leaning her neck. “I have to admit, I’m kinda glad Barry and Ralph were busy.”

“Why?”

“Because… I don’t think it would’ve been quite this special if I had done it with Barry or Ralph. Barry, he’s married. Ralph, he’s not really my type.”

“What, and you’re saying I am?” It was initially a joke. Cisco followed it up with a chuckle, as if implying the idea was absurd.

Caitlin didn’t respond.

“Wait.” Cisco met Caitlin’s eyes with a million emotions at once as he realized what Caitlin’s silence meant. “You’re saying…”

“Look, Cisco…” Caitlin took a deep breath as she mentally prepared her next words. “There’s another reason why I really wanted you to go with me tonight. Why I wanted you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Because, if I’m being honest with you… I like you. As more than a friend.” She hesitated. “God, I sound like I’m in middle school. But it’s the truth.”

Cisco paused. He took a moment to process the confession he had just gotten. The wheels in his head were turning, his heartbeat raced in his chest. He sighed, then found his words.

“You wanna know why I was so good at pretending to be your boyfriend tonight? I mean, none of your family members suspected a thing. Acting has never really been my forte. I took some acting classes with Dante back in high school, but we both sucked and inevitably dropped out. My point is, I can sell a fake story to cover up my hero alter ego when I have to, and I can lie when something really depends on it. But pretending to be in love with someone… I think I could only pull that off if it were at least partially true.”

“What’re you saying?”

“Remember when I told your mom that story about how we got together?” Cisco said. “Well, the whole part about me catching feelings for you... that was true.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened. “You… have feelings for me?”

“Don’t act so surprised. With your intelligence and your charming personality, I’m surprised anyone can look at you and not fall completely in love.”

She blushed. “I just… never thought my feelings were reciprocated.”

“Neither did I.”

“I’m glad we did this then.”

“Y’know, Caitlin…” Cisco tapped his fingers against the leather car seat. “I think I have a great idea for how you can cash in that favor you owe me.”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll go out together, somewhere where it’s just us. We can talk and joke and I’ll buy you coffee. It’ll be a date. Our first real romantic one.” Cisco studied Caitlin’s expression for a reaction. “How does that sound?”

Caitlin reached for Cisco’s hand and laced her fingers into his, holding his palm gently in hers. It was just like she had held it back at dinner, only this time, it wasn’t for show.

“That sounds wonderful.”

#killervibeweek #killervibeweek19 #killervibe #the flash #caitlin snow #cisco ramon

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

Carpe Noctem

Author: Silent-Fields

Year: 2010

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Richmond, Anthrax & Ebola

Richmond watched as the children of the night careened about in a haze of smoke, extending their pale arms towards Heaven and Hell. After weeks of careful research, tonight was the night Richmond had decided to set out and experience his first goth club. He had chosen Pandora's Box because it offered two rooms spinning various genres, a lounge, and a very extensive bar. He was in the gothic room at the moment, enjoying the contrast of ethereal female vocals with demonic male ones echoing from the club's speakers. With his last few paychecks as Project Executive, Richmond built himself up an extensive wardrobe, favoring mostly Victorian and Edwardian inspired styles, but liking the cuts on many of the more modern clothes as well. Most of his old clothes were then donated, but he did keep a few pieces. A purple dress shirt did look quite nice with a black tie. For his debut he wore a black frock coat, a black ruffled shirt whose cuffs dangled just enough over his hands to be dramatic but not a hindrance, and a maroon waistcoat. Black trousers and pointed boots completed his outfit. He had recreated the eye make-up he had done for Denholm's father's funeral, but chose to simply line his lips' natural shape rather than draw them into a frown. He wanted to be approachable, trying for subtle indifference with a hint of misery for tonight's look. His parents had been more upset about his demotion than his new lifestyle. "You always liked The Addams Family and Tim Burton movies," his mother said with a shake of her head. "And there was that time your father took you to see Kiss. But Richmond dear, can you still support yourself?" Richmond had enough savings to cover any emergencies that may arise within the next few months and tended to live rather frugally, so the lower pay hadn't really bothered him. What had been surprising was how much more comfortable he was now, finding solace in the shadows of the night after years of corporate competition under harsh florescent. Richmond had been so lost in reminiscing that he didn't notice two girls approaching him until they were right in front of him. The taller of the two was wearing a long black velvet dress with bell sleeves, her wavy blonde hair flowing over both her shoulders. The shorter girl's black hair was pinned back with spider shaped sliver clips, and she wearing a black knee-length tank dress with zippers on the straps, fishnet stockings, and combat boots. Both wore matching necklaces, a silver dagger on a satin cord that stopped at the tops of their breasts. Drinks in hand and small purses on their shoulders, they introduced themselves. "Hello, I'm Ebola.” said the blonde, her manner stoic. "And I'm Anthrax." said the other, her tone equally void of emotion. "Richmond." He replied with a bow. Oh dear, should I have created pseudonym? Alabaster? No, sounds silly. Ammonite? Possibly too obscure. Maybe I should have used my last name, it does sound a bit more gothic . . . "We haven't seen you here before, is this your first time?" Anthrax asked, interrupting his thoughts. "Oh yes, yes it is." "They seem to be playing older stuff tonight, not a bad night to drop in. Would you care to join us in the lounge?" Richmond nodded and Anthrax's lips curled upwardly slightly, flashing the tips of a pair of fangs as she turned toward the door. Richmond followed as the girls effortless weaved their way through the dancing patrons towards the lounge. They sat on a vacant purple velvet settee while Richmond sat in an adjacent chair, the table in front of them covered with ashtrays and empty glasses. Candlelight and black fabric draped from the ceiling surrounded them. Ebola sat her glass down and fished a cigarette and lighter out of her purse while Anthrax and Richmond held on to their drinks. "So Richmond, what do you do?" Ebola asked, lighting her cigarette. She held up her free hand before he could reply. "Wait, let me guess. Computer programmer? No no, graphic designer." Richmond furrowed his brow in confusion. "Nearly every guy here works with computers," Anthrax explained. "It provides a relaxed office dress code and a pay check that supports the lifestyle." "Oh. Um, I work in IT." It felt odd saying that, as Richmond still had no idea what kind of work he was expected to do. Though it is quite nice working in the basement. "Ah." Anthrax took a sip of her drink, something dark red. "The bartender here is quite excellent, always coming up with some new delicious and deadly cocktail. I see you've gone with The Green Fairy." "I quite like absinthe." Richmond replied with perhaps too much enthusiasm. He was drinking a cocktail of the previously mentioned bartender's own design. While lounge was relaxing, Pandora's Box was primarily a dance club, and did not lend itself to melting sugar cubes into luminous green filled glasses, so he settled for a mixed drink that contained some of his favorite liquor. "Oh I'm sure you'll meet him eventually." Ebola said, rolling her eyes. Richmond looked quite confused. "Absinthe is the owner and operator of a S&M club nearby." Anthrax explained. "It's members only with the exception of a few events throughout the year." She looked him up and down. "You could probably become a member without too much difficulty." "Oh I see." Richmond wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to interpret that statement. "Um . . . are you members?" "Yes." Ebola replied, taking a drag from her cigarette. "Why, are you interested?" "Not now, maybe one day." Richmond shifted and took a sip of his drink. He noticed Anthrax looking him again and he suddenly wondered if maroon was too bright of a colour for the occasion. "This isn't just your first time here is it?" she asked. "It's your first time out a goth club." Richmond blinked. "Oh dear, was it obvious?" "A bit" she replied, her fangs once again peeking out over her near smile. "Oh. Well I am still feeling my way around the culture." he admitted "It does get associated with a lot of different things." Anthrax commented. "How did you become interested in the lifestyle?" Ebola asked, placing her cigarette on the closest ashtray. "Cradle of Fifth." he replied, hiding his grin with a sip of his drink. "May I ask you two what interested you in becoming goth?" "Sure," Ebola said with a shrug. "For Anthrax it was The Hunger, that film with David Bowie as a vampire and Susan Sarandon's lesbian scene. If that wasn't enough the moment we start the film she's shaking me asking 'What's this song? Who's that bloke in the cage??'" Anthrax glared at Ebola. "You're the one with the thing for David Bowie." She turned to Richmond, "My older brother was into the scene as well so I'd often watch him put on his make-up before he went out and developed an interest from there. As for Ebola, she fancied my brother." "That wasn't the only reason, you cow." She glared back at Anthrax before replying. "I always loved Lydia's outfits in Beetlejuice, I wanted to dress like her every day. But it was so distressing to see her so happy and normal looking at the end of the film." "Oh yes, I agree. Even if the song is very catchy." Richmond swirled his drink in his glass, watching the bright green whirlpool, wondering what question to ask next. Perhaps they know someplace that provides a more appropriate atmosphere for drinking absinthe . . . Ebola reached for her cigarette, noticing a man walking quickly past them. "Good Evening, Lord Catalyst." she called out. The man froze and turned around with a grimace on his face. He was dressed similar to Richmond, but had chosen to accessorize with a top hat and cane. "You two!" he said with a slight twitch, pointing his finger accusingly. He turned to Richmond dramatically, his cape swirling to match his movement. "Take heed my dear fellow! They are harpies, who will snatch away your soul!" He glared at the two girls on the settee. "I do not mean this as a compliment!" "Oh fuck off!" Ebola hissed. "Or shall we tell him why you're so uncomfortable around us?" Lord Catalyst jumped, his twitch increasing in intensity, and scuttled away. Both girls exchanged a look and a snicker before turning to Richmond. "I'm sorry Richmond. We . . . collect boys on occasion but tonight we were just looking for conversation," explained Anthrax. "Though you are very handsome.” Ebola added. "That's quite alright. I must say, you both have beautiful skulls." "Thank you," they replied in unison. They spent the rest of the evening chatting away in the lounge, occasionally getting up to dance when a song came on that the girls insisted Richmond must dance to. Soon the antique grandfather clock in the lounge struck three, signaling that the evening was at an end. "You've both been very helpful. Thank you." said Richmond as they exited the club, trying not to smile. "There isn't a goth rule again smiling, Richmond." Ebola said with a laugh. "Just don't make it a regular habit." After exchanging phone numbers and email addresses the group went their separate ways, with the promise to meet again soon. ----------------------------------- For the first couple of years they were always out together; going to clubs and films and tea parties in graveyards, meeting up to chat and shop and dance. Anthrax and Ebola quickly discovered Richmond had no trouble pulling, his shy demeanor combined with his theatrical delivery proved highly amusing and rather attractive to both goths and non-goths of all genders. Sometimes they would meet just to compare notes on their various conquests. As the years went on Richmond began to come out less and less, mainly communicating by email and only occasionally by phone. He would still show up to major events and travel with them for Whitby, but Richmond slowly withdrew into his own world as Anthrax and Ebola continued to venture out in to the night. ----------------------------------- Neither Ebola nor Anthrax had seen Richmond for months and after weeks of persistent emails and phone calls, he agreed to come out. Before heading to Pandora's Box they decided to meet up at a near by cafe, sitting in a booth in the back corner, for privacy as well as ambience. Always a gentleman, Richmond waited until the girls had settled before sitting down. Anthrax sat near the wall, dangling her fingers over the table candle as she waited for her tea bag to steep. Ebola stirred her coffee, watching the creamer swirl. Both waited silently, wanting Richmond to speak first. He stared at his coffee, watching the stream curl out of the mug for a while before speaking. "My old boss committed suicide. He just jumped out of a window one day." Anthrax gasped and Ebola jumped slightly. That wasn't the whole story of course, but Richmond didn't feel like explaining that the pensions at Reynholm Industries had been tampered with for years and if Denholm had chosen to think about it, there had probably been an easy way to fix them. But Denholm has always been impulsive and unpredictable, up until the last moments of his life. "The one that demoted you?" Ebola asked carefully. Richmond nodded, still not looking up at either of them. "I slept with him shortly before it happened. It wasn't anything serious; I knew that before we did anything. In a way it sort of felt like closure." Richmond took a slip of his coffee, continuing to look at the table. "I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral, but at the time it didn't really bother me. As the weeks went on though, I found myself becoming rather depressed." "How are they treating you at work?" asked Anthrax. "Oh much better, I'm allowed out during daytime hours now. I still don't talk to my coworkers much - don't really see a reason to. I'm just sort of . . . there." Richmond looked up, saw two pairs of sympathetic looking milky lenses, and looked back down. "I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now." Ebola looked at Anthrax, biting her lip slightly. They searched each other eyes for the right words. Today it was Anthrax's turn to have the epiphany, eyes widening as she turned to face Richmond once more. "Richmond, do you remember the last thing that came out of Pandora's Box?" Richmond looked up from his drink at Anthrax, allowing his frown to become one of confusion rather than despair. She reached across the table and took hold of one of his hands. "It was hope." Richmond blinked, his mouth forming a silent "Oh". Ebola reached across and took hold of his other hand, both girls squeezing before letting go. The friends finished their drinks in a comfortable silence. "I think it's the industrial room tonight my dears." Ebola said as she began to rise out of the booth. "We can dance the night away and count how many times someone samples Dune." "No complaints here." Richmond replied, waiting until Anthrax was out of the booth before standing, trailing behind them both as they walked toward the front. "Oh Richmond we must tell you about this ridiculous boy we met at The Black Spider." Anthrax turned as he held the cafe door open. "He looked a bit like you but lacked your depth. When we asked him what his favorite song was he said it was Gary Numan's Dominion Day." Richmond sneered slightly as he followed her out. "First time?" "First and last, thankfully." And so the friends set out to drink and dance, extending their arms towards the infinite possibilities that lay ahead of them, capturing the night in their pale hands.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #richmond avenal #anthrax #ebola #anthrax & ebola #the it crowd #it crowd

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oceannocturne · 5 years

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I saw Captain Marvel tonight and I have...conflicting opinions. But I also might just be tired of the MCU. Unclear. Unorganized rambling under the cut. Also spoilers. Obviously.

So, in general, I liked it! It was a solid Marvel movie. It had good pacing, it kept me engaged, Captain Danvers was a good mix of serious and funny (strong woman-making-it-in-a-man’s-profession vibes, with a sort of ‘screw you’ quirky kind of humor that came out at just the right moments). Seeing Blockbuster and Radio Shack was a nostalgia trip, and seeing a young Nick Fury and Coulson was honestly hilarious!

But see, yesterday, I saw some commercial that was touting this as a ‘Marvel milestone’ or whatever because it was their first movie with a female superhero lead. And in that spirit, as a supposed ‘feminist triumph’ or whatever, I didn’t like the movie. I think. I’m still deciding. I have a lot of conflicting opinions and I’m probably overthinking this way too much, but that’s what I do so *shrug*

(First of all, I don’t feel like Marvel gets to claim this as a victory. 1. It’s been eleven years and twenty-odd movies. The fact that it took you this long, when fans have been clamoring for a Black Widow movie since 2010, isn’t something to celebrate. 2. DC beat you to it.)

I was pretty conflicted through the whole thing, because while I loved seeing a young Nick Fury, I also found that I was paying more attention to him as the comedic relief than I was to Captain Danvers. (I’m still not sure how I feel about his portrayal. It was hilarious, but also felt like a crack-ish au xD) In part because, comedic relief! And in part because he’s a familiar character, so naturally I’m gonna be a little more drawn to him. But if this is supposed to be such a ‘feminist’ movie, why is there a male side character stealing the show?

Also, only one conversation that I noticed (perhaps two in retrospect) actually passed the Bechdel test. In a female-led superhero movie, she was still surrounded by men. Which I guess makes sense, cuz US Air Force in the 90s, but also most of this involved alien races and space so...

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the movie. The good guy/bad guy plot twist was well played out, Carol looked amazing in grunge (and made me want to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe with lots of leather and flannel), I loved Maria and her daughter Monica, and the way they played Carol slowly re-discovering her memories was really well done.

I’m...still not sure how I feel about the cat.

‘Cat.’

Anyway, I’m probably being very nit-picky, but after twenty movies all about male superheros with two total female superheroes as only supporting characters, I’d love to see an all-female superhero movie. Just...multiple female superheroes. Female friends. Female enemies. That would be a ‘milestone.’

Basically this movie made me want to go home and re-watch Wonder Woman. Was it perfect? No. But it did make me cry, and Captain Marvel did not do that for me.

#captain marvel #captain marvel spoilers #mcu #emms has opinions #emms is a closet feminist #except maybe not so much closet anymore #plsplspls share your opinions with me I don't know what to think and I want to discuss this

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stellarbisexual · 6 years

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A Memory of Love (2/?)

Summary: Richie and Eddie, who haven’t seen each other since they were kids, get cast as the lead couple in an indie film.

Canon-divergent, Reddie are in their 30s.

Previously: Chapter 1

READ ON AO3

Chapter 2: TABLE READ

When Richie arrives at Greg’s house a few short weeks later, his co-star is already sitting by the pool, just a tuft of fluffy, chestnut hair peeking out over the back of a lounge chair, one bare foot skimming the surface of the water in a hypnotic left-to-right motion.

“Ah, there’s the love of my life!” Richie’s booming voice disrupts the quiet, prompting Eddie to peer around the side of the chair, his mouth agape, squinting in the bright sun.

Richie’s heart lurches violently in his chest, nearly taking his breath away, to the point where he makes a mental note to pick up some Prevacid on the way home—but as Eddie unravels himself to approach, one nervous hand righting his hair and the other clutching a curled up copy of an already heavily marked-up script, Richie exes out that note.

He and Eddie didn’t connect before today. He’d thought about it, but something held him back, maybe a desire to have this moment.

Eddie’s eyes flicker amber in the sunlight as he takes Richie in with a sweet smile. “Hi, Richie.”

“Long time no see, Eddie Spaghetti.” The nickname is out of his mouth before he even knows what the hell it is (like most everything else Richie ever says—and he wishes he could blame the improv background), and Eddie giggles, a high, musical thing that inspires Richie to pull him in for a tight hug. Eddie’s still pretty tiny, his hair tickling Richie’s clavicle.

“You two know each other?” Greg looks both perplexed and pleased.

Richie tries conjuring an image, anything, from when they were kids, but there’s that black hole again. He holds Eddie at arm’s length, watching an elaborate cycle of emotions flit across his expressive face, feeling helpless without a key to decipher them. “We’re both products of Shittown, USA, AKA Derry, Maine.”

“Where dreams go to die,” Eddie says without missing a beat, squinting up at Richie.

Richie begins the table read a little nervous and a little on his guard; despite having taken proper acting classes and doing theatre in college, this is still totally new to him, and he fully expects Eddie to make him feel out of his league, not just because Richie’s a lowly fucking comedian but because he’s never had a serious relationship with a man in his life. He doesn’t expect Eddie to be a dick about it, but he expects him to want to take control and subtly steer him right if he goes off course, maybe even get frustrated with him from time to time.

But there’s no sign of that, at least not today. Eddie is open and kind, complimentary, even, reassuring Richie You’re so perfect for this role when he makes his first of many self-deprecating remarks before they actually start to read. Plus, it’s clear three pages into the script that they’re both still just seeing how the words taste in their mouths, taking the pressure off considerably.

It never occurs to Richie that Eddie might be nervous as hell, too, but he admits just that as they drive away from Greg’s house, the sky beginning to go orange and pink. Richie’s offered to take him back to his hotel, as Eddie’s only in town for a few days and isn’t getting a rental.

Eddie pushes a big breath out of his mouth. “I was so fucking nervous about today.”

“You were nervous?” Richie’s eyebrows shoot up. “I actually puked this morning.”

“No you didn’t!” Eddie smacks his shoulder playfully.

“Scout’s honor,” Richie says, flashing two fingers, his smile threatening to break his face. “Strap yourself in; the daily embarrassments of Richie Tozier have only just begun.”

Eddie stares at his profile, face naked in a way that nearly tears Richie’s eyes away from the six lanes of freeway traffic. “I’m really excited we’re working together.” His voice is soft.

For all that Greg has expressed the director’s concern about creating enough intimacy between her two lead actors, it sure feels fucking intimate in Richie’s car right about now.

Richie resists the urge to make a joke, taking a deep breath. “Me too.” He licks his lips, swallows. “Hey: you wanna get a drink? I’m not ready to go home yet. Still feel buzzy, like the night after a show.”

Eddie smiles, relaxing into the passenger seat, his body still slightly angled toward Richie’s. “Sure.”

Once they’re settled in at the bar, Richie takes the opportunity to look at Eddie the way he couldn’t in the car, deciding he hadn’t given his face enough credit. Eddie’s pretty fucking gorgeous, truth be told, all big, sparkling hazel eyes and dark, elegant eyebrows. He watches Eddie’s mouth purse as he examines the drink menu, wet and pouty, and wonders hopefully if they’ll end up hooking up during filming.

Richie has to mentally smack himself for even thinking it. You’re here to work, you fucking idiot, so get serious for once in your life.

“I hope this is okay,” he says, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. He chose one of his go-to dive bars in Culver City (seems like an oxymoron with how expensive the area’s gotten) since he wanted to be able to hide. “I know you don’t spend that much time here, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to one of those chichi twenty-dollar cocktail places on Sunset just for the experience.”

“No, thanks, this is way more my speed.”

Richie orders himself a pickleback, which inspires a full-body shiver of disgust from Eddie, and Eddie orders a gimlet.

“So,” Richie says, after shooting the whiskey, then shoots the pickle juice. “Teach me all about method acting.”

Eddie giggles that sweet, melodic giggle again, then surprises Richie with his retort: “I thought you were going to teach me how to get on TFS. That’s the only reason I agreed to even do this movie.”

“I still couldn’t tell you how I got on that show, so you’re out of luck there, my friend.” Richie starts playing with the empty shot glasses, flipping them over and sliding them around on the bartop like a street performer doing a trick. “Seriously, though. I want to know more about how you work and what you need from me, how I can help you do whatever you need to do.”

“I mean, I want this to work for the both of us, first and foremost. And I’m not Daniel Day-Lewis; I don’t need the full enchilada. I’m not going to make you or the entire crew call me Thomas between takes or anything,” Eddie says, referring to his character in the film. “Did Greg tell you I was this big method actor? I’m really not that crazy with it; I just take bits and pieces, whatever works for me—and I like being experimental. But I’ve worked with a lot of actors who don’t subscribe to it at all, and it’s fine.” Eddie’s nose crinkles as he smiles at Richie’s expression. “You look disappointed. Were you hoping to try it? Because if you’re open to some of it…”

“I’m definitely open,” Richie says decisively. “I just want to do well.” Eddie seems to perk up considerably at that, which gives Richie an odd feeling of pride. “Let’s not talk about work anymore. How long have you been in New York?”

Eddie’s response is quick and sounds rehearsed. “Since I was eighteen. Left my mom’s house and never looked back.”

“Shit. Your mom. Big lady?” Richie opens his arms wide, eyes narrowed, trying to recall her face and failing. Eddie nods quietly. “I met her at least once, right?”

“A few times.”

Richie watches him sip generously on his gimlet. “How much do you remember from when we were kids? I’m getting the impression it’s way more than I do.”

Eddie studiously stares at his half-empty drink. “Not much more than you, probably. You did tease me relentlessly; I do remember that.”

“Ugh,” Richie grimaces. “I was such a pain in the ass then.”

“No, you meant well, I think.” Eddie shakes his head, lifting his eyes at him in a way that threatens to give him heartburn again. “It was cute.”

Richie inhales sharply, clearing his throat. “You haven’t been back to Derry at all?”

“...Well. For my mom’s funeral, back in 2010.”

“I’m so sorry. You should’ve—.”

Eddie shrugs. “It never changes. Derry. It’s kind of freaky that way. New York is changing all the time. People coming and going.” Eddie stirs the tiny straw around his drink, though it’s down to almost just ice. “I saw you once—in New York. You came to do stand-up.”

Richie lights up. “What? When?”

“Uhhh.” Eddie’s eyes drift up to the ceiling, trying in vain to read the date there. “2008? 2009? You were at Gotham.”

Richie shudders. “That sounds right. The dark ages.”

“You were great,” Eddie says encouragingly, and either he’s a really good actor or he really means it.

“...Why didn’t you say hello?”

Eddie cuts his eyes at him, teasing, “Would you have remembered me, asshole?”

Richie cackles. “Bev and I reconnected, you know, a few years back. We hang out all the time.”

“Beverly Marsh? Wow.”

“Yeah. She’s in fashion and she does production design sometimes—when they pay her enough.”

“That’s really cool.”

Eddie looks terribly fond. Richie understands; Bev’s got a way about her.

“She remembers even less about Derry than I do. Or so she says. But she remembers you. Was very eager to pore over your IMDb page when I told her the news.”

“My whopping five or six credits.”

“Five or six dramatic credits, at least. My page is just TFS, a stoner movie, and a bunch of Funny or Die videos.”

“Okay, we’ve already established that we’re both feeling really insecure about this. So here’s to being on even footing, at least.” He raises his empty glass to Richie, and Richie lifts one of his empty shot glasses from the table, not bothering to flip it upright before clinking it against Eddie’s. Eddie motions to the bartender, then quietly asks Richie, “Do you want another?”

Richie opts for something lighter, a beer, since he’s driving, though he anticipates they’ll be here long enough that they’ll both come right back around to sober by the time they finally leave. The conversation just has that feeling about it. He and Eddie just have that feeling about them, between them. It’s thrilling and a little scary.

Once they’re all set for drinks again, Richie leans on one of his fists. “I’m not sure I ever had you pegged to become an actor.”

“I didn’t either; it just sort of happened. My therapist pushed me into drama therapy when I was in college, and it was more effective than any session we’d ever had.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, clearly trying to relax them. “I had a lot of anger to work through. Still do,” he smiles ruefully.

“So you were being method before you even knew what it was.”

Eddie’s smile turns into a sweet, generous thing. “Yeah, you can say that. It was the best place for me to start because it wasn’t about being good; it was just about being honest.”

Richie can’t remember a time, even as a kid, when he wasn’t dead set on being good, on being funny, on being liked.

“There wasn’t really a proper audience, so the audience didn’t matter—and it still doesn’t, for me.”

Richie makes a distressed sound. “Can’t relate, my friend. If I’m not getting a laugh, I’d rather walk into oncoming traffic.”

Eddie looks at him. “I’ve never been funny—not intentionally, anyway—so I can’t relate to that.”

“Do you wanna—?” Richie starts impulsively, stopping to take a drink when Eddie looks at him again, all endless eyes and open mouth.

“What?”

Richie takes another drink, fortifying himself. “I have a crazy idea. For Blue Valentine, Michelle Wiliams and Ryan Gosling lived in a house with each other for a whole month leading up to shooting, so they could be in each other’s space and learn about each other and develop a real relationship—so it would hopefully translate in their performances as this couple who’s been together for years.”

“So I’ve heard.” Another smile threatens the corners of Eddie’s mouth.

“...Do you have anything going on before we start rehearsals?”

“No.”

“We don’t have to do a whole month—I’m probably a nightmare to live with—”

Eddie laughs, and Richie’s heart can’t help chasing the sound, wanting more.

“But maybe a couple of weeks? There’s plenty of room at my house.”

“Okay, easy, TFS,” Eddie teases.

Richie’s even more thrilled at this bit of playful snark. He actually doesn’t have a comeback, or maybe he’s just too hellbent on getting Eddie’s answer.

Finally, Eddie puts him out of his misery. “I’m just kidding. That’s a great idea.”

And that’s how it starts.

permatag list: @reddie-to-fight @hurleyhugo @raspberrywind @losver-kaspbrak @lilgeorgie @geckolover001 @its-stranger-than-you-think @gazebo-motherfucker @waypunsarelife @reddietofall @happytozier @librablossom @aesteddie @tapetayloe@spagheddi-kaspbrak @sadhelianthus @adhdtozier @justcallme-trashmouth @fuckboyrichie @thetheatregal @bandaids @20gayteeneds @richietoaster @burymestanding @reddiepop@notsugarandspice @peniswises

a memory of love list: @artofhely @trippy-alexissss @feelinsorad @where-ismy-miind @justanothetfangirl

#mah fic #reddie #a memory of love #stephen king's it #it 2017 #it 1990 #it chapter two

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letterboxd · 6 years

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High Life.

Dominic Corry takes in Claire Denis’ High Life, starring Robert Pattinson (above) at the New York Film Festival.

High Life, the latest work from acclaimed French filmmaker Claire Denis (Beau Travail, White Material), is her first English-language movie, and her first venture into genre territory. But while it may technically qualify as a space thriller, High Life is anything but conventional.

It stars Robert Pattinson as Monte, one of a group of young offenders who leave Earth in a rectangular space craft on a mission to (presumably) explore new possible worlds, the idea being that these astronauts are expendable and nobody on Earth will miss them.

Juliette Binoche co-stars as a scientist performing reproductive experiments on her shipmates, while André Benjamin and Mia Goth are amongst Pattinson’s fellow cons-turned-space people.

Stark, uncompromising and lousy with bodily fluids, High Life is unlike any other space film you’ve ever seen, and it’s absolutely wonderful. A long time in the making, the project gained and lost various collaborators throughout the years, including novelist Zadie Smith, once onboard as a co-writer. The wait was worth it, and the film’s long gestation can be felt in the finished product.

Pattinson is quietly stunning in a role that has him sharing the screen solely with an infant for large sections of the movie. It’s further evidence of the actor’s post-Twilight commitment to work with the world’s most fascinating and challenging auteurs.

Claire Denis at the NYFF screening of High Life. / Photo: Andy Kropa

Denis screened her film to an eager audience recently at the New York Film Festival, and she and Pattinson got on stage to discuss the work after the credits rolled. Here’s some highlights:

On going from setting her films in the real world to the world of science-fiction: Claire Denis: Very honestly, I have to say the most important thing was happening between the characters. The space thing was more just a situation where people are together, but forever until they die, you know? Where there is no hope to escape. Not space, really, but the ultimate jail.

On casting Robert Pattinson in a role originally intended for an older actor: CD: He was right from the very minute I met him. But the delay [in getting the film made] helped me to realize it was better. This original dream was to have this older man, tired with life, at the end wishing nothing but to die. Robert brought something I had not expected. But I was a little bit afraid to be honest. I think I was afraid, not of his youth… I was afraid maybe he was too good-looking, or too… precious to me, in a way. I thought I had to be aware of that, and not to be afraid of his charisma.

On discovering the works of Claire Denis: Robert Pattinson: I saw White Material in maybe 2010 or 2011 on TV and just immediately… I really like directors who can create a very specific world which just feels contained in a movie. I think I started trying to chase her down which took about three years, maybe longer, four years, to get a meeting, and when this came about, it was kind of… I never really thought she’d do a movie completely in English as well so I was kinda shocked.

CD: The truth is we wrote the script in French, but for me it had to be in English because there was no way for me that people in space could speak French. It would be so funny. [It had to be] either English or Russian.

On acting alongside an infant for long stretches: RP: It kind of changed who I thought the character was completely. He put so much pressure on himself the whole time that I thought he would put that pressure on his daughter, and that would create an incredibly intense relationship. But then you find just in the performance, you can’t help but be quite soft to a baby. I planned to be a lot stranger and something just felt wrong with all those scenes. I think it softened the whole performance really, especially in terms of what I was initially intending to do. People say don’t work with animals and children, [but] I think it makes it exponentially easier, to have someone who’s a constant little font of inspiration all the time, you can just be totally reactive. You’re completely unselfconscious if you’re with a baby all the time.

On preparing for the role: RP: I was attached to it for such a long time I was thinking about it for a really long time and I hung out with Claire a bunch in Paris. Claire gave this speech about late Joy Division singer Ian Curtis for ages. And I was trying to think like, “Okay, I’m gonna play it like Ian Curtis,” and I’m trying to impose that into it, and then I was like, “So… how do I interpret Ian Curtis into Monte?” And Claire was like, “No no, it’s not about the part at all”. And I was just thinking there’s something about just getting anything that’s in the ether, it’s not a literal interpretation of something, it’s just kind of letting stuff enter you.

CD: About Ian Curtis, it was crazy for me to say that to Robert in a café in Paris, but there was something, a strange connection in me about [Curtis], being that young guy, famous suddenly and yet so alone. So young and so alone and every image I saw of him was like the world was not a friend to him. Even though he loved his wife, he was surrounded by trouble, by enemies, there was pain in his body, even his movement, there was something of a young monk in a way. Of course I didn’t want Robert to interpret Ian Curtis but to me it was the image of a young knight of the middle ages, alone in the modern world. That was something I had in mind.

On how he chooses his roles: RP: In general, it’s pretty simple. I’ll have seen the director’s work, and very few things hit me as hard as Claire’s work did for instance. If something has a pretty profound effect on me I’ll try and go work with those people. I basically approach people who I really love and just say, “I don’t care what part it is, or anything to do with a specific project. Whatever you would like to do with me at any point in the future…” And it generally seems to work out. With Cronenberg on Cosmopolis, I really loved the script but I was so afraid of talking to him because I didn’t know how to talk about the part in an academic and cerebral way, but I knew I really liked it. I was trying to get out of even a phone conversation with David because I was so terrified of being humiliated on the phone, and then I kind of finally got tricked into talking to him about it and I was, “I’m so sorry David, I really like it, but I literally don’t know… I don’t know what it’s about, I don’t know how to do anything,” and David said to me, “Yeah me neither, I have no idea what it’s about. But it seems juicy right?”

Every single job I’ve ever done from that point on, I have to say to the director at the beginning: ��I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know how to act. I don’t know what the part is. I’m just rolling the dice on a take-to-take basis. I’ve got about a one in six hit rate. That’s probably why I don’t do that many commercial movies because you can’t really do that in a corporate machine. You can’t say, “I have no idea what I’m doing”.

On Robert Pattinson: CD: There is always something that is hidden. Something escaped behind his face, behind his skin, inside, a sort of, it’s not resisting any direction, it’s existing I would say. Which is probably what David Cronenberg liked also. Existing.

A24 has acquired the US rights to ‘High Life’ and will release it theatrically early in 2019.

#letterboxd #nyff 2018 #robert pattinson #claire denis #q&a #high life #director

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scifigeneration · 6 years

Text

New telescope will scan the skies for asteroids on collision course with Earth

by Michael B. Lund

Artist depiction of an asteroid on a collision course with Earth. By Mopic/shutterstock.com

Around sunrise on Feb. 15, 2013, an extremely bright and otherworldly object was seen streaking through the skies over Russia before it exploded about 97,000 feet above the Earth’s surface. The resulting blast damaged thousands of buildings and injured almost 1,500 people in Chelyabinsk and the surrounding areas. While this sounds like the first scene of a science fiction movie, this invader wasn’t an alien spaceship attacking humanity, but a 20-meter-wide asteroid that had collided with the Earth.

What is worrisome is that no one had any idea this 20-meter asteroid existed until it entered the Earth’s atmosphere that morning.

As an astronomer, I study objects in the sky that change in brightness over short time scales – observations that I use to detect planets around other stars. A large part of my research is understanding how we can better design and run telescopes to monitor an ever-changing sky. That’s important because the same telescopes I’m using to explore other star systems are also being designed to help my colleagues discover objects in our own solar system, like asteroids on a collision course with Earth.

Near-Earth objects

A meteor is any chunk of matter that enters the Earth’s atmosphere. Before the Chelyabinsk meteor met its demise on Earth, it was orbiting our sun as an asteroid. These rocky objects are normally thought to be restricted to the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. However, there are many asteroids throughout the solar system. Some, like the Chelyabinsk meteor, are known as near-Earth objects (NEOs).

Aerial view of Arizona Meteor Crater, September 2010. Shane Torgerson, CC BY

The Chelyabinsk meteor likely came from a group of NEOs called Apollo asteroids, named after the asteroid 1862 Apollo. There are more than 1,600 known Apollo asteroids logged in the JPL Small-Body Database that have orbits that may cross the Earth’s path, and are large enough (over 140 meters), that they’re considered potentially hazardous asteroids (PHAs) because a collision with Earth would devastate the region hit.

The scars of these past collisions are prominent on the moon, but the Earth also bears the marks of such impacts. Chicxulub crater on Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula was created by the Chicxulub asteroid that drove the dinosaurs to extinction. The Barringer Crater in Arizona is just 50,000 years old. The question is not if a dangerously large asteroid will collide with the Earth, but when?

Searching for threats

The U.S. government is taking the threat of an asteroid collision seriously. In Section 321 of the NASA Authorization Act of 2005, Congress required NASA develop a program to search for NEOs. NASA was assigned the task of identifying 90 percent of all NEOs greater than 140 meters in diameter. Currently, they estimate that three-quarters of the 25,000 PHAs have yet to be found.

To reach this goal, an international team of of hundreds of scientists, including myself, is completing construction of the Large Synoptic Survey Telescope (LSST) in Chile, which will be an essential tool for alerting us of PHAs.

Exterior view of the Large Synoptic Survey Telescope, which is still under construction. Sublocation Cerro Pachón, Chile. LSST Project/NSF/AURA, CC BY-NC-SA

With significant funding from the U.S. National Science Foundation, LSST will search for PHAs during its 10-year mission by observing the same area of sky at hourly intervals searching for objects that have changed position. Anything that moves in just one hour has to be so close that it is within our solar system. Teams led by researchers at the University of Washington and JPL have both produced simulations showing that LSST on its own will be capable of finding around 65 percent of PHAs. If we combine LSST data with other astronomical surveys like Pan-STARRS and the Catalina Sky Survey, we think we can help reach that goal of discovering 90 percent of potentially hazardous asteroids.

A photograph and a baseline design rendering mix, showing a view of the completed exterior building from the road leading up to the site. LSST Project/NSF/AURA, CC BY-NC-SA

Preparing to avert disaster

Both the Earth and these asteroids are orbiting the sun, just on different paths. The more observations taken of a given asteroid, the more precisely its orbit can be mapped and predicted. The biggest priority, then, is finding asteroids that may collide with the Earth in the future.

If an asteroid is on a collision course hours or days before it occurs, the Earth won’t have many options. It’s like a car suddenly pulling out in front of you. There is little that you can do. If, however, we find these asteroids years or decades before a potential collision, then we may be able to use spacecraft to nudge the asteroid enough to change its path so that it and the Earth don’t collide.

This is, however, easier said than done, and currently, no one really knows how well an asteroid can be redirected. There have been several proposals for missions by NASA and the European Space Agency to do this, but so far, they have not passed early stages of mission development.

The B612 Foundation, a private nonprofit group, is also trying to privately raise money for a mission to redirect an asteroid, and they may be the first to attempt this if the government space programs don’t. Pushing an asteroid sounds like an odd thing to do, but when we one day find an asteroid on a collision course with Earth, it may well be that knowledge that will save humanity.

Michael B. Lund is a Post-doctoral researcher in the Department of Physics & Astronomy at Vanderbilt University.

This article was originally published on The Conversation, a content partner of Sci Fi Generation.

#science #meteor #near earth asteroids #chioxulub #telescopes #space telescope

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doomonfilm · 6 years

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Thoughts : Howl (2010)

While recently doing a gig at Cheer Up Charlie’s in Austin, I found myself enthralled by the animations I was seeing on the screen. The imagery was bold, symbolic, informative and free-flowing, and it definitely got the gears rotating in my mind. Then, an image jumped out at me, because I recognized the symbol... the inference... I saw Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady portrayed famously as the duo in On The Road, a book that forever changed my perspective on both creativity and the general way one leads one’s life. I asked the bartender what was on the TV, and that was how I found out about Howl.

The late 1950′s in America were a time of polarizing transitions, as the ‘wholesome’ lifestyle presented by the country was beginning to take a backseat to a new generation of inquisitive and curious minds set on changing the world. From the West Coast came a movement of poets known collectively by the cultured masses as the Beat Generation, with their San Francisco Renaissance forever changing the landscape of literature, poetry or otherwise. Their initial declaration came in the form of Howl, a four part poem by Allen Ginsberg (James Franco) full of shocking truths and colloquial language that perfectly described the angst and disconnect found in young Americans. From its initial reading at the Six Gallery in October of 1955, to the obscenity trial that surrounded its release via City LIghts Bookstore co-founder Lawrence Ferlinghetti (Andrew Rogers), and beyond, the work has continued to remain as influential, polarizing and on the nose today as it was nearly 80 years ago.

The three-prong approach that this film uses is perfectly balanced in regards to the way it presents events and ideas on both a historical and deeply informative level. The meat of the film is made up of the court trial, shot very much like a standard court drama with all of the rich, golden colors and intellectual sparring one would imagine as a way to frame and glorify the idea of free speech, and the way it nurtures thought outside of the box. The story of Ginsberg and his growth to prominent poet are mostly shot in black and white flashbacks, if not flashbacks with muted color, providing a fresh look at a nostalgic time. The centerpiece of the film is definitely the animated portrayal of the poem Howl, with literal interpretations turned into psychedelic brushstrokes for a bigger picture that slowly reveals itself over the course of the poem’s four parts. The film is so artistic because of how bold, fresh and groundbreaking the artist at the center of it was... his work was challenging, and therefore, the presentation of his work cannot be run of the mill.

This challenging nature really works for the film, as it seemingly aims to challenge viewers very much in the same way that Howl did both in terms of presentation and substance. The presentation of both the poem and the film are hectic at the onset, with so much stimulating material thrown at you that you’re not sure rather or not you should relish in it or be embarrassed by it. It is only after you become awash in the foul language, sexual ideas and observations on the society that you are able to get over personal hang-ups and actually examine them on a base level, at face value. Much like Ginsberg speaks on his methods for opening the lines of conversation about homosexuality, Howl did the same thing in regards to racial prejudice, how people look at the government, and even provided much needed insight into the eventual era that was the Hippie generation.

The film itself is shaped very much like a documentary, with the main exception being that actors are cast in all of the roles. Once you get over the familiar faces and the slightly embellished stylized touches (used tastefully, most certainly), you really find yourself falling right into the crux of the matter in regards to where you stand on if the material is obscene or not. The insight provided by both those in the court proceedings and by Ginsberg via James Franco’s theatrical presentation of his recorded interviews provide context and a deeper understanding into the poems, the times, and some of the iconic figures that emerged from the times. As mentioned before, the three distinct presentation styles of the three main story arcs work well with one another, making an already relatively short movie fly by like an intellectual roller-coaster ride.

James Franco is much more measured, calculated and controlled in his portrayal of Ginsberg than he is in most roles, maybe as a sign of respect to the poet and his vast influence. Jon Hamm is charming, sly, calculating and cunning as the defense attorney, managing to be sharp without ever overstepping the boundaries into the realms of attacks. David Strathairn plays by the book as the prosecutor, setting up Hamm without ever acquiescing to full victim-hood, and managing to get valid points in despite his inevitable losing status. Bob Balaban does his usual thing as the judge, giving those reactions that only he can. Jon Prescott has big shoes to fill as Neal Cassady, but he does manage to bring a magnetic aura to his personification of the legend. Aaron Tveit is sweet in his connection with Franco, managing to give viewers a true sense of love in their on-screen relationship. Appearances by Treat Williams, Jeff Bridges, Todd Rotondi, Mary-Louise Parker, Alessandro Nivola and Andrew Rogers round out the main cast.

With Howl, I imagine most people come for the star power and the visual stimulation, as those were certainly the elements that drew me in, What made me stay, however, was the respect and importance given not only to the work (and the creator), but to its impact. The film illustrates in every way that it can just how much impact Ginsberg and his contemporaries came to have on modern day culture.

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #RobEpstein #JeffreyFriedman #JamesFranco #DavidStrathaim #JonHamm #BobBalaban #AlessandroNivola #TreatWilliams #MaryLouiseParker #JeffDaniels

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