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dankusner · 4 months

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From: Daniel Kusner Subject: Lawrence wright Date: September 7, 2015 at 1:29:18 PM CDT To: "Kusner, Daniel" [email protected]

You could use this: "Austin is already at the center of the bicycling culture, with flatlands on one side and hills on the other, and great weather for cycling. All we need is more bikeways to make it the perfect place for bikes to rule."

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On Sep 7, 2015, at 1:10 PM, Kusner, Daniel [email protected] wrote:

Next Thursday, author Lawrence Wright ("Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Belief.") is coming to Dallas for a reading and signing to promote his newest, “God Save Texas: A Journey Into the Soul of the Lone Star State ” which Knopf releases on April 17.

In Chapter 7, “Big D,” Wright recalls having dinner with Robert Wilonsky. That same chapter, Wright says, “The Dallas Morning News, the most important paper in the state and one of the leading papers in the county."

PDF — 512 CYCOLOGY

PDF new yorker — 1988

Can God Save Texas? A Film God Like Richard Linklater Might Help

One of Texas film's greatest voices speaks on the "cruelty" of the criminal justice system in a new HBO docuseries.

Eva Raggio

Film director Richard Linklater takes a look at the inhumanity of Texas prisons. Mat Hayward/Getty Images for IMDbGod Save Texas, a trilogy of documentaries that debuted Feb. 27 on Max, examines some of the state’s deeply rooted issues. Based on the book God Save Texas: A Journey into the Soul of the Lone Star State by Lawrence Wright, the limited series was made in three parts, each by a different Texas director.

The first, “Hometown Prison,” was directed by Richard Linklater; the second, “The Price of Oil,” by Alex Stapleton; and the third, “La Frontera,” by Ilana Sosa.

Linklater has produced a widely varied body of work, including the highly stylized intellectual favorite Waking Life, the coming-of-age comedy and stoner cult classic Dazed and Confused and indie hits such as School of Rock and Bernie.

Cinephiles are perhaps most sincerely attached to his naturalist masterpieces on time, such as Boyhood — which followed its characters through scenes that took place over 12 years and earned Patricia Arquette a Best Supporting Actress Oscar— and the Before trilogy, in which he surprised viewers with out-of-the-blue sequels, completing a love story through near-voyeuristic glimpses of a couple (played by Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke) across cities and decades.

We spoke to Linklater via Zoom from Paris, where he's working on a film that’ll keep him away from his adopted hometown of Austin’s SXSW festival — an event he’s hardly missed in two decades. It's nighttime in the City of Lights, and he has Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris and much more on his mind.

For the Austin-based director, dealing with real subjects (including his own mother, Diane Margaret Linklater, a former professor and advocate for inmates) in God Save Texas prompted a different form of investment into his film’s characters.

“I'm always close to my characters, even if I've kind of created them, written them,” Linklater says. “But there's a real actor there. There's a real person you're working with. So in this case, you're working with real people, you're getting their own personal stories. On one hand, it didn't feel that different. I want to have an affection and an understanding for people, but it's personal: It's their lives, it's my life, it's my mom. It couldn't help but be personal. And you're asking others to tell very personal, sometimes painful stories in their own lives.

"So yeah, it's a big ask. But I think in a way, they trusted me because I was local and maybe they knew it was personal for me, but I feel close to every story. You're just trying to tell in the way you feel. So it felt right.”

Intercut with scenes from protests and stories of death row inmates, the film sees Linklater returning to Huntsville, a city 70 miles north of Houston that has the most active death row prison in the U.S. Viewers can practically smell the grease off the small-town diner menus as Linklater reflects with his subjects (many of them his old classmates), on how his hometown’s prison industry grew so wildly out of control — at least tenfold, from 10 prisons to 114 — in the past few decades, and uncovers the inhumanity of inmates' living conditions.

The auteur filmmaker is a proud Texan whose roots creep up in his work. And he maintains the love of home while decrying its systemic failures.

“You're catching me on the wrong night,” he says of his feelings for Texas. “We're executing an innocent guy tomorrow in Huntsville, Ivan Cantu, who's being put to death without … I mean, I can't believe it. I'm just stunned and really depressed, kind of a little desperate. We've been doing all we can. It's just like, gosh, the new normal. OK, we can kill innocent people. The next administration, maybe we can start … There's talk of camps. What's next? What can we put up with?

"So on the one hand, I love Texas and I love the people, but I really do feel a disconnect with the cruelty. ‘Cause I know Texans aren't cruel by and large, but I think our government policies are extremely cruel, and this executing an innocent person is about the top of the list. So I don't know. It's times like this you feel pretty bad.”

Linklater says he didn’t stumble into any major production roadblocks, but taking on a project that required such a deeply personal investment was a matter of facing his past to expose a haunting present.

“Everyone was so giving and open and kind; I think it was just me getting over just wanting to go there myself,” he says. “This film concerns my mom. It's a lot of my own past. I was asking people to tell their stories. So it was just deciding to do it, I think. And I mean, these issues about criminal justice and the death penalty, these have swum around in my head all these years.

“It was kind of cathartic and satisfying to find a home for some of these feelings. And my summation is fairly simple, really. I think after all of it, it's just like, yeah, the death penalty really does hurt a lot of … there's a lot of collateral damage to so many people and these state employees who have to be dragged through it. So to me, it's just kind of unnecessary trauma induced on innocent people.”

The film focuses on the trauma on both sides of the bars, from convicted inmates (many of whom proclaim their innocence) to state workers whose daily duties include strapping the bodies of death row prisoners onto and off the gurney. His opinions on the death penalty haven’t necessarily changed, but Linklater is more adamant than ever that the system predatorily exploits human error for profit, as we idly cede our rights to a state where punishment far too often exceeds the crime.

“My conclusion is don't do it,” he says. “I'm not a full-blown prison abolitionist, but I'm heading that way only in that — I don't mean let murderers out on the streets. I just think we could approach in a much more humane … the way we systematically create all this pain. We could systematically create more worthwhile treatment. I mean, face it, the prisons are full of people in on — it's mental health and drug addiction. If you treated those things, there goes 90% of the population right there.

“And then keep really the psychopaths, the murderers, serial sexual assaulters. I think we all have a vested interest in keeping certain people isolated from the general population, but people who made a bad mistake or something, I can't explain a tenfold increase. Crime is down everywhere. That's just the trend. Violent crime, everything's down. So why is our prison gone up 10 times in the last 40 years? I don't know. Things we have to ask ourselves. ... We should be investing in people, not just punishing them.”

For God Save Texas, he says, the trio of directors hardly compared pre-production notes beforehand.

“We were sort of siloed in our own projects,” Linklater says. “We knew what everybody was doing, but I guess I went first and set a certain tone, maybe with the personal. When we started I don't think we really had a full plan. I was like, ‘Larry [Wright, who also executive-produced the series], so are we gonna go to Huntsville?’ And we just felt our way through it.”

Before and After the Before Trilogy

With his cinematic oeuvre falling into an array of styles and genres, Linklater doesn't give much thought to his overarching body of work, preferring to hyper-focus on each film. He says he hasn’t even pondered the uniting thread woven across his projects.

“I don't know. I'm always telling kind of character-based work,” he says. “The concept is never bigger than the characters. They're pretty far away from superhero or anything like that.”

While his films are often of the deeply felt variety that persist on viewers’ minds long after the credits roll, he also adds: “Or laugh. I've made comedies, a little bit of everything. I don't know, just always trying to express myself in my own relation to the particular story or subject.”

Least of all does he consider his legacy, or his writing living on through the ages.

“Boy, I can tell you, I never think I'll live on for generations,” he says with a laugh. “I'm really focused on what I'm doing like right now, making this movie. So that's really all you can do.”

He concedes that he's mildly aware the Before movies have prompted a niche form of tourism, made up of fans who visit the first film’s Vienna locations, for example. But he hasn’t been to Vienna in about 15 years and assumes the interest has dwindled. (It hasn’t; visit the record shop where Jesse and Celine share a charged exchange of awkward missed glances in a listening booth, and see for yourself.) He laughs at our joke suggesting the Austrian capital should’ve given him a key to the city.

Nonetheless, as he finds himself in Paris, Linklater has learned that the bookstore featured in the second installment, Before Sunset, is still a bit of a treasure for fans following the Before map.

In Huntsville, he’s known as “Rick,” a former football player for the state’s highest-ranking team. As a young adult, he self-taught filmmaking on a Super 8 camera. Before long, Rick went on to receive Academy Award nominations, be named one of Time’s most influential people in the world in 2015, and become an advocate for filmmaking, and particularly Texas filmmaking, as co-founder of the Austin Film Society.

He's a successful independent filmmaker whose movies have made a crater-sized mark on pop culture, so one would assume Linklater finds himself in a privileged spot coveted by any artist looking to make an impact without the fine print double-dealings.

“Successful? I don't know. It doesn't feel that way all the time when you're working on a real low budget and you don't have enough time or money to make your movie,” he says. “But maybe that's it. I've just never cared about, I guess, the money or that result. I've really just focused on the next story I'm trying to tell and kind of avoided a certain kind of careerist trappings. Maybe staying in Texas probably was a good thing for my mental health.”

It hasn’t been hard, he says, to sustain that balance, keeping a sense of artistic autonomy while avoiding industry money grabs and other Hollywood pitfalls.

“You say no a lot," he says. "I think you define yourself a lot in this world — it sounds corny or maybe you heard it: It's like you kind of define yourself by what you don't do. Just because you have opportunities doesn't mean you have to do it. So the things I've turned down, the things I've not wanted to do that I could have, kind of defined you. It's like, yeah, no, I'm really focused over here. I know that's more money and that [I’ll] get to work with some big star, but I don't really want to do that. I want to tell [my stories]. So just follow your own muse.”

During the pandemic, his kids became an elite audience in a Linklater-selected, at-home film festival. He was glad they’d grown past the animated children’s movie days (“I could not wait to get out of kid movies. We did that pretty quick. I'm a filmmaker, I was showing them stuff, but yeah, I could not wait until they were starting to ask me more about movies”) and into more sophisticated cinematic territory.

“Say what you will, the pandemic was terrible, but we watched a movie every night,” he says. “These teenagers [would ask], ‘What movie are you going to watch now? Let's do the French New Wave, or let's watch films from Brazil.’ It was like my own little one-year curation, my own little film society in the family.”

For all the brilliant dialogue that mark his own films, the uniting thread he never thinks about, Linklater isn’t surprised that the most quoted line from his movies was famously ad-libbed by Matthew McConaughey in Dazed and Confused.

“He wasn't even scheduled to work that night,” he says of his fellow Texan. “We worked up that scene and he just threw in that 'All right, all right, all right’ — he said that as he was driving in, and I thought it was really funny."

Linklater remembers that "within a day or two after that," the expression became a popular saying among the film crew.

"I noticed a key grip say, ‘OK, we're laying some dolly track over there. Let's go do that. And [he] goes, ‘All right, all right, all right, all right.' He was already repeating it," Linklater says. " And on one hand, I'm not surprised. I mean, of course you're surprised when you see a T-shirt with it or something like that, that's crazy.

“Matthew … he's earned it, I guess.”

click to enlarge

A new HBO docuseries finds Austin director Richard Linklater visiting his hometown to examine a universal issue: the ever-expanding prison industry.

Max/Richard Linklater

newyorker.com

In “Hometown Prison,” Richard Linklater Looks at Life on Both Sides of the Wall

Richard Brody

8–11 minutes

With little fanfare, a complex and far-reaching personal documentary by Richard Linklater, “Hometown Prison,” dropped last week on the streaming service Max. It’s one of a trio of excellent films made under the rubric “God Save Texas,” based on the book by Lawrence Wright, of this publication—all of which consider the state’s history and politics in the light of the filmmakers’ own lives and families. The second film, “The Price of Oil,” directed by the seventh-generation Texan Alex Stapleton, traces the economic racism on which the state’s oil industry was built, as manifested in its disproportionate pollution of predominantly Black neighborhoods, including her family’s own. The third, “La Frontera,” by Iliana Sosa, who was born in El Paso to a family of Mexican descent, considers the historical unity of that city with its Mexican neighbor, Ciudad Juárez, and the enduring burdens imposed on Mexican Americans by white supremacy and the resulting militarized border. It takes nothing away from these latter films—exemplary blends of journalistic investigation, historical analysis, and intimate experience—to call particular attention to the power and the aesthetic range of Linklater’s documentary, which combines a narrow focus on a single institution with a conjoined exploration of the director’s life and his œuvre.

“Hometown Prison” is about Huntsville, Texas, where Linklater lived from 1970 (the year he turned ten) to 1981. He has previously explored his boyhood experiences there in such films as “Dazed and Confused,” “Everybody Wants Some!!,” and, of course, “Boyhood.” However, “Hometown Prison” concentrates on one oppressive peculiarity of the town: there’s a large prison in the middle of it, in plain view of much of daily life there, and a vast network of prisons spread throughout the town and its vicinity. The prison system is the town’s main employer. Texas, as Linklater relates, has the most incarcerated people of any state; it also executes more people than any other state, and those executions take place in Huntsville. Prisons, in other words, are a ubiquitous presence in Huntsville’s landscape, and yet, Linklater says, “At some point, you don’t really even see it.” In “Hometown Prison,” he attempts to see—and to give voice to silences on the subject, in his life and his work, that he has until now not managed to break.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Though Linklater credits Wright (one of the filmmaker’s longtime friends, who appears on camera, as he does in the other two films in the series) with the suggestion to make “Hometown Prison,” the work is anchored in two incomplete projects of Linklater’s. The first, a drama that he’d hoped to make in 2002, was about two high-school football players who, a year after graduation, end up on opposite sides of the prison walls. The second was to have been made from documentary footage that he shot in 2003, of protests outside those walls, when an inmate named Delma Banks, Jr., was about to be executed despite abundant evidence of his innocence. Linklater couldn’t find funding for the drama and never did anything with the footage—plentiful amounts of which appear in “Hometown Prison.”

Here, Linklater breaks silence in the most direct and literal way—by speaking. He delivers a copious and confessional voice-over, complete with reminiscences, observations distilled from research, and candid assertions (as when he declares capital punishment “barbaric”). He also appears on camera, in conversation with Huntsville residents whose lives intersect with his and with the town’s carceral economy. Linklater’s recollections of his late mother, Diane (included by way of a talk with one of her friends), involve her activism on behalf of incarcerated people released into town with no support. One of the most revealing exchanges is with Elroy Thomas, a manager at a Huntsville bus depot, who estimates that, in his thirty years on the job, he has sold one-way tickets out of town to hundreds of thousands of newly released prisoners—and adds that, in the process, he has become acutely sensitive to their frame of mind and the extent of the preparedness to return to private life. It’s shocking to see a line of former inmates walking casually away from prison with no clear destination down the closed-off vista of a leafy street. “They don’t offer no rehabilitation,” one of them comments. “If you’re trying to get right, you need to do it on your own.”

Among the ex-prisoners with whom Linklater speaks is Dale Enderlin, one of his former baseball teammates from Huntsville’s Sam Houston State University, where Linklater’s mother taught. (The team was later the subject of “Everybody Wants Some!!”) Enderlin spent thirty-nine months in prison for white-collar crimes, and his main observation from his time there is how routinely young, nonwhite people are railroaded into confessions for crimes that they didn’t commit. A civil-rights lawyer, Bill Habern, who arrived in town as a public defender in the nineteen-seventies, dated Linklater’s mother, and remained a family friend, says, “I came to Huntsville and I thought I’d landed in Mississippi twenty years before.” He shows Linklater bullet holes in his home, estimating that there are twelve to fifteen. Ed Owens, the first Black warden of a Huntsville prison, says that he experienced far more racism owing to his work inside the walls than to anything in ordinary town life; during protests involving one execution, the Ku Klux Klan demonstrated outside his house.

A prison in Huntsville, Texas.

The attitudes of many Sam Houston students interviewed in the documentary belie the centrality of prison to life in Huntsville. Despite being on a campus with clear views of uniformed prison guards, inmates being released, and demonstrations against capital punishment, they claim not to pay much attention to the facility’s proximity. “I’ve never given too much thought to it, until you hear the siren go off,” one student says. Another notes, “It seems that everyone’s aware of it, but no one wants to talk about it”; a third adds, “I’ve never heard no professor talk about it.” Linklater affirms that the “disconnect” is “kind of a Huntsville tradition.” One of his former high-school football teammates says that, even now, the prison “doesn’t even come to my consciousness.”

Of course, there are some in Huntsville for whom the prison system looms large. Linklater interviews many of them: the formerly incarcerated, and family members of the incarcerated; a local historian and activist who seeks to change the town’s civic life and is well aware of being despised for it; former corrections officials, whose firsthand experiences witnessing or even participating in executions has caused them to reject the practice; and a current one who finds the rigors of the carceral system hard to bear. Moreover, Linklater recalls one of his stepfathers, a prison guard (whom he dramatized in “Boyhood”) whom the stresses of the prison system psychologically warped and darkened.

Just a few minutes into “Hometown Prison,” there’s a shot of a restaurant across the road from a barbed-wire-fenced prison unit, which has a cheerful sign announcing “Sunday: Kids Eat Free.” I was reminded of another movie in current release, Jonathan Glazer’s historical drama “The Zone of Interest,” which is set outside the walls of Auschwitz, in a house where the camp’s commandant, Rudolf Höss; his wife, Hedwig; and their three young children live, apparently pretending, to the fullest of their capacities, that their lives are normal. Unlike Glazer, Linklater doesn’t merely observe Huntsville residents’ lives alongside prison but also hears from them. He displays deep and sincere curiosity about what people involved in a cruel system—or even merely living in view of one—say, think, and feel. He probes the psychology of their efforts to keep prison from their minds and also considers the ideologies behind the prevalence of incarceration and the death penalty in Texas—including racism, class-based inequity, an enduring myth of frontier justice, brazen demagogy, and a form of Christian fundamentalism that emphasizes strictness rather than mercy—as well as the practical policies that sustain the carceral system there, including the economic motives of contracts for businesses and employment for residents.

“Hometown Prison,” with its free and hybrid form, empathetically and indignantly brings suppressed agonies to light. It does more, too. Linklater looks deeply at the town’s self-gaslighting, at how it’s maintained and who maintains it, and to what ends. The film is a fervent and trenchant work of political psychology, living history, investigative journalism, and anguished confession.

With humor and the biting insight of a native, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Lawrence explores the history, culture, and politics of Texas, while holding the stereotypes up for rigorous scrutiny.

God Save Texas (Penguin, 2018) is a journey through the most controversial state in America. It is a red state in the heart of Trumpland that hasn’t elected a Democrat to a statewide office in more than twenty years; but it is also a state in which minorities already form a majority (including the largest number of Muslims). The cities are blue and among the most diverse in the nation. Oil is still king but Texas now leads California in technology exports. The Texas economic model of low taxes and minimal regulation has produced extraordinary growth but also striking income disparities. Texas looks a lot like the America that Donald Trump wants to create. And Wright’s profound portrait of the state not only reflects our country back as it is, but as it was and as it might be.

Lawrence Wright is a staff writer for The New Yorker and the author of nine previous books of nonfiction, including In the New World, Remembering Satan, The Looming Tower, Going Clear, Thirteen Days in September, and The Terror Years,and one novel, God’s Favorite. His books have received many prizes and honors, including a Pulitzer Prize for The Looming Tower. He is also a playwright and screenwriter. He is a longtime resident of Austin.

A light reception will precede the event beginning at 5:30 pm, with the lecture starting at 6:00 pm. Parking will be available on the SMU campus. FREE passes will be emailed to registered guests before the event. Seating is limited, and not guaranteed.

Wright's publication of the same title will be available for purchase and signing after the event.

TEACHERS ONLY -- Please sign in at the registration table to receive continuing education credit.

Co-sponsored with SMU's Clements Center for Southwest Studies, Center for Presidential History, the John Tower Center for Political Studies, the Clements Department of History, the Dedman College Interdisiplinary Institute, and Dedman College of Humanities and Sciences.

-- Southern Methodist University

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taughtdefense-a · 8 months

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A conversation between @taughtranquility / @recurrere / Miguel Diaz, & Ethan Wilson, circa 4x05. This is canon for Ethan & my Miguel. Just imagine Miguel is sitting next to Ethan instead of Jeremiah, & Ethan instead of Johnny. Nadia & myself may reblog. This is part one. | Part two is here.

Miguel sits down next to Ethan, looking at the taller boy in concern. Ethan has his earplugs in his ears, but his sunglasses are off for the moment. The case is sitting on the ground next to him. They're both sitting outside of Miguel's apartment, with their backs pressed against the wall next to the Diaz's apartment door. After causing two incidences, Ethan had abruptly abandoned Miyagi-Do practice early in a hurry. Miguel took it upon himself to go after his best friend, to make sure he was okay. It's something Ethan silently appreciates. He'd have done the same for Miguel, or Icarus, or Hawk.

"Hey, Eth."

Ethan doesn't mind the nickname; Miguel is one of the people who can use it whenever he wants. Emma, Talia, Hawk, Charlie & Sam are the others. His parents, too, obviously. Ethan even gave Robby permission to use the nickname, too. Ethan has no interest in being within a ten mile radius of his ex-best friend anymore.

"...Hey." Is what Ethan mumbles instead. His voice is weak.

"Are you okay?"

The brunet scoffs lightly, crossing his arms over his chest. Like a light switch, his look of guilt is replaced with frustration. "Christ." He grumbles in exasperation, dragging a hand down his face. "Everyone keeps asking me that. I’m okay. Really."

"You don’t have to do that, dude." Miguel begins quietly.

"Do what?" Ethan responds, keeping his tone flat, pretending like he doesn't know what Miguel is referring to. He's not stupid. Miguel knows he isn't. Still, though, the other boy sighs softly. This version of Ethan isn't the same one Miguel knows like the back of his hand. Understandably, he's concerned. Sometimes, he wishes his best friend didn't close himself off, like he's doing right now. Distance himself emotionally. It's something Miguel noticed he's been doing a lot, lately. It's some type of defense mechanism.

"Lie to me, so I don’t have to worry about you. You lashed out at Sensei LaRusso, dude. You hurt Icarus during sparring, too. Even though neither of those things are something you’d ever do if you weren’t hurting. I'm just... All of us are worried about you."

"I’ll apologize to both of them later." He laughs weakly, pushing a hand through his hair. The laugh sounds more like a sob. Miguel's heart breaks in his chest. He didn't realize how badly Ethan was hurting until this very second. He had a feeling that it was bad, but he didn't understand. It makes him angry. Angry at Robby, angry at Cobra Kai, & Kreese, & that new Sensei, Terry Silver. "I didn’t mean to hurt Icarus." Ethan whispers, his voice so small and so unlike him. It makes Miguel want to hug him. "I just seem to keep fucking up."

Ethan sighs heavily, looking away from Miguel. His shoulders tremble with a sob he forces back. Miguel flinches. "I hate myself for getting so attached to people so quickly. I fucking hate the karate war. It’s only making everything worse."

"Icarus will be fine." He responds gently, placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder. Ethan still doesn't look at Miguel. "He’s tough. Emma & Charlie already forgave you for accidentally hurting their husband, I just know it. I'm sure he did, too. And you’re hurting. It’s normal for someone to lash out like that when they’re hurting. ...Robby hurt you by joining Cobra Kai, didn't he?"

Ethan's next exhale dies somewhere in his chest, & he still refuses to make eye contact with Miguel, who doesn't look away from him. It looks like Ethan's been sucker-punched in the gut. He reaches up to fiddle absentmindedly with the earplugs in his ears. Miguel knows that that's a nervous habit. "...Yeah. I told him I was in his corner, and… and then he just spits in my face. Like that didn’t mean anything to him. Like… I don’t know. Like I... like I don’t mean anything to him." There are tears in Ethan’s eyes. He doesn’t blink them away. "…I fucking hate him."

Oh. ...Oh.

Miguel doesn't look away from Ethan, simply absorbing his words. As soon as he says he hates Robby, it seems like something clicks in his head - like a missing puzzle piece finally found its home. Ethan doesn't want to read his mind, fearing that the truth will crush him, so he doesn't. He gently bumps Ethan’s shoulder with his arm. The other boy doesn't look over at him, but he does blink rapidly, trying to make the tears go away by sheer force of will. It doesn't work. A few tears slip down Ethan's face. He makes no move to wipe them away.

"I don’t think you really mean that." Miguel murmurs, keeping his tone as soothing as he can manage. "And I don’t think Robby's fully himself, anymore. It’s something Cobra Kai does. It turns you into some dark, empty version of yourself. Look at what I did to Robby during the first All Valley. During the school fight, too." Ethan sighs softly, grimacing. He remembers both incidents vividly. Sometimes he wishes he didn't. Miguel still feels so incredibly guilty over that. "If I could take everything back, I would. I know that he & I haven’t ever seen eye to eye with each other, but… you can’t give up on him. I won't let you."

#shaking crying throwing up #drabble tag tbt.#taughtranquility #recurrere #dyn.: recurrere. / miguel diaz.#dyn.: taughtpain.#// long post #verse. / main.: miyagi fang. ( miyagi!ethan. ) — ❝ i ached for warmth & peace. the universe laughed at me. ❞#verse: miyagi!ethan. ( main. )

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anderperry-ask-blog-ame · 3 years

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Boyfriends taking a Selfie!

I know no one asked but I will still chuck this at everyone from all corners

I gave Todd Ethan Hawke's signature peace sign! hahah Look at Neil just admiring his boyfriend SO HARD <3

#anderperry #anderperry fanart #fanart #dead poets society #dead poets society fanart #my art #dps #neil perry #todd anderson #yes i gave todd luscious lips because he does have em #then ethan hawke took them away from us

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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liaromancewriter · 3 years

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Falling Into Dust: The Healing (part 2/3)

Series Premise: After surviving a deadly poison attack, Cassie struggles with guilt for her part in the tragedy and tries to find her way back to the person she was.

Part 2: Back in familiar surroundings, Cassie falls back into old habits but finds it’s not that easy to start over without first healing the soul.

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); featuring Max Valentine (OC)

Rating: Teen

Category: Angst

Trope: Hurt/Comfort

Words: 1,450

Read Part 1: The Aftermath

The sounds of waves crashing against the rocks were distant, but in that quiet period of dawn Cassie could hear them as loudly as if she was standing on the cliff.

When the soft knock came, as she knew it would, she called out for Max to come in.

He peeked in to see her lying on her side in bed, her hands tucked beneath her face on the pillow, eyes unwavering from the view outside the French doors leading to the terrace.

She turned to face him when she heard the door close and felt him climb on the bed.

“Morning, sis. Figured you’d be up. You never could resist dawn here,” he said, smiling as he lay down next to her on top of the covers. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she said finally. “I need more time.”

He watched her for a minute and then nodded.

“Take as long as you need,” he said, placing his hand over hers. “I’m here whenever you’re ready, but you should know that Ethan’s worried about you. You should have told him, Cassie.”

“I know,” she said softly, tears gathering in her eyes. “I can’t face him right now.”

“Why?” he asked, puzzled. “Did you guys have a fight?”

She shook her head but didn’t say anything more. Max saw the sadness in her eyes and gave her a look as if to say he understood and wouldn’t push her.

“Want to go for a run?”

“Always,” she said with a smirk. “But you know gym fit isn’t street fit, right?”

“Care to make a wager?” he smirked back. “Fifty that I match you, mile for mile. Loser has to cook breakfast.”

“Make it a hundred,” she said, rubbing her fingers together. “Residents don’t make as much as hotel magnates, and I could use the extra dough.”

“You’re on,” he said, hopping off the bed. “Just don’t whine too much when I beat you. I’m gonna grab my gear. Meet you downstairs.”

Over the next few days Cassie’s life developed a routine. Every morning, she and Max would go for a run, alternating routes. Sometimes they took the cliff path down to the beach, other times it was to the western edge of the property or to the security gate and back.

The guards had gotten used to seeing the twins razzing each other as they tried to outdo the other.

That first morning, she had won the bet, barely. Even though the poison was no longer in her system, it had taken its toll by leaving her muscles weak and her heartbeat irregular whenever she pushed herself.

Completing her normal five miles had been excruciating; only the thought of losing to her brother had kept her going.

Afternoons were for gardening in the conservatory or hanging out by the pool, while evenings were for experimenting with cooking or baking followed by watching a movie or playing games.

Even there, she and Max couldn’t help but get competitive. He seemed determined to push her out of this passive mood she’d gotten stuck in.

Cassie saw it for what it was and just ignored it, determined to live in a make-believe world where the last six years had never happened. There, she was just Cassie Valentine, daughter, sister and socialite, not Dr. Cassie Valentine, resident and Diagnostics junior fellow.

Max knew she knew, but still, he watched her like a hawk, ready to step in when she hit the wall. He’d asked their parents to stay away until then knowing their mom wanted to enfold Cassie and never let her go.

It had been hard on them when they couldn’t visit her in the hospital, and it was harder still staying away now. They did it because he asked, but he knew his time as running out.

Cassie hit the proverbial wall a week into their stay.

She woke up with the feeling that something was crawling beneath her skin. Her throat felt scratchy, the way it had that day when she’d felt the mist fall on her. She started scratching her head, her hair getting in the way.

Pushing herself out of bed, she rushed into the walk-in closet, standing in front of the full-length mirror checking herself for effects of the poison.

The person she saw staring back at her wasn’t her. This woman had matted long, blonde hair and sunken, lifeless eyes. Instead of a silk nightgown, she saw a shapeless, cotton hospital gown.

Taking the scissors from the drawer, she reached up, grabbed one lock and snipped away. One lock after another then another, she kept cutting, watching yellow hair fall to the floor and the weight from her shoulders lift with every snip.

When she was done, the ragged edges fell just below her ears. The person in the mirror was a stranger, eyes wide and full of misery. With a scream, she fell to the floor, sobs wracking her body as she buried her face in her hands.

That’s how Max found her. Sitting on the floor, he wrapped his arms around her from the back, rocking her while she wept. She folded into him, her tears soaking his shirt and still he held her until eventually, exhausted and spent, she closed her eyes.

He carried her into the bedroom, placing her gently down on the bed before tucking the covers around her.

“It was my fault,” she said, her voice drained. “Bobby and Danny would still be alive if only I’d followed protocol.”

Max stayed silent as he lay down next to her, his hand reaching for hers when she turned to face him.

“After everything that happened last year, I thought I’d learned to control my impulses, to think first, act only when I have all the facts. The way Ethan taught me,” she said, her throat tight as she confessed to Max.

“I should have known Travis wouldn’t be stable. His behavior was textbook psychology of revenge. But I rushed in, putting everyone in danger, including the patient. I should have followed hospital protocol. Isolate, don’t engage, call the authorities. But I didn’t,” she said, her gaze far away before continuing.

“It’s not even the first or second time. A few months ago, I rushed to grab a patient that was about to jump off the ledge, and he almost pulled me over. Ethan gave me the worst chewing out of my life and made me promise to never put myself in danger like that again. I broke my word to him, twice. Everyone else suffers for my mistakes but me,” she added.

Max squeezed her hand, his eyes trying to hide the terror that he’d almost lost her once before and never knew.

“You’re suffering too, Cassie,” he said eventually. “You made a mistake, but you’re not to blame for what went down. You’re just as much a victim as everyone in that room. Ethan doesn’t blame you. Bobby’s and Danny’s families don’t blame you. No one who was there that day or heard about it blames you. You need to find a way to forgive yourself for being human.”

“I don’t know how,” she admitted wearily.

“Start one day at a time. Forgive yourself today. And when tomorrow comes, forgive yourself again,” he said.

“You’re grieving, but you need to remember that there are people who love you and will catch you every time you fall,” he added seriously before his tone turned light. “Especially a certain Diagnostician who’s been blowing up my phone daily for updates even though he supposedly hates texting.”

“Ethan still wants me?” she asked, wonder creeping in her voice.

“Devotedly so,” quipped Max. “Are you ready to see him?”

“Yes. I feel so incomplete without him.”

“Okay, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Can you call mom and dad too?” asked Cassie.

“Mom’s been waiting for my text,” he said, reaching for his phone. “Your Dr. Ramsey has the patience of a saint, but our mother is ready to disown me. You know she’s going to freak out about your hair, right?”

“I know. I’ll call Sandy and have her fix it,” she said, referring to the concierge hair stylist their grandmother used.

Olivia Valentine did freak out as she gingerly touched the rough edges before she hugged her daughter close. Then, Cassie was enveloped by her father's strong embrace, his familiar scent wrapped around her in comfort and love.

Sandwiched between her parents, she held out her hand for Max, pulling him into the embrace. Surrounded by her family, Cassie felt the last of her guilt fall away.

At least for today, she had forgiven herself. Tomorrow, she would begin again.

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@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x cassie valentine #open heart choices #open heart #playchoices #oph choices #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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uomo-accattivante · 3 years

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Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

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It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

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#oscar isaac #the card counter #paul schrader #martin scorsese #tiffany haddish #tye sheridan #willem dafoe #taxi driver #master gardener #indiewire

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vinylhazza · 4 years

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A Lesson Learned (E.D) Part 1.

Summary: Ethan’s job as a teacher is to give his students the best education that he can. But when Y/n, a student that has caught his eye a time or two, catches him by surprise in his classroom during lunch, he’s unable to hold back the fire that was sure to break free at some point.

Word Count: 8.1k

Warning: Rough sex between student and teacher. You're welcome.

Ethan wasn't stupid. He knew that the girls in his class snickered and swooned over him from the minute they walk through that classroom door, to the very moment they left. That’s why he had a set of rules. They were simple, but very clear and strongly advised. 1. No consults or help during lunch 2. No help after school, under any circumstances. It was just too risky. It wasn't that he was worried he would slip up, it was just that the girls in his class were very bold with their advancements towards him and he was concerned it would get too out of hand if he allowed them to come in whenever they wanted for “help.” Because help was never really help with them. However; he did give the students an option to come in during a free period, where teachers flittered through the halls and his door was always open. He has yet to see any of the girls take him up on that offer, except maybe one of two that don’t really need the help.

He had three classes, Seniors, Juniors, and Freshmen. All Composition and Reading. They were all pretty much the same, just a slight curriculum change to make it harder for each grade as he saw fit. The girls in his Senior class were the worst with their flirtatious behavior, so bad sometimes that he’s had to call them out or send them to the principals office - feigning that he’s concerned they won't be able to focus enough in his class because of their small crush. It was a serious problem - some even slipped him their number when handing in their papers or passing notes on purpose during class because they knew he would take them away if they were caught. He’s never used them of course, simply throws them in the trash with a shake of his head. He wasn't meaning to be cocky about it, it just made him a bit nervous and uncomfortable. Unfortunately, some girls still hadn't gotten the memo.

But he was still surprised when he heard the light tapping on the closed door, small shadows of feet appearing against the tiled floor just outside. He understood that it was nearing the end of the semester and the students might be panicking a bit too hard over their studies, he’s been there a time or two during high school and college. But his rules were set in place for a reason. He figured it was better to make the rule for everyone rather than show “favorites”. He knew some of the students would probably love the extra study time, but he just couldn't take the chance. The lunch rule wasn't even his decision quite frankly, it was also a school rule that you must reside in either the lunch room, football field, or atrium during lunch hours - no sneaking off on your own agenda without a valid reason. Coming to his classroom wasn't really a valid reason. Yes, some students slipped past the radar, but it wasn't often. Girls were sneaky, and being one of the only males in an all girls school, he started to learn their little tricks.

He sat still behind his desk, eyes glued to the stand still shadow behind the aquatex glass window of the door. A frown stretched across his face as he wondered who it could be, the place was normally deserted and quiet during lunch break - a good 45-60 minutes of absolute silence. Depended on the day. He wondered briefly who it was and what they wanted. Even though the knock was quiet, it nearly scared him - that’s how unusual sound was at this time of day. He was sure he could blast his music as loud as he could and no one would be able to hear. He didn’t of course, it would disrupt his concentration.

It bothered Ethan sometimes that he had such a close eye on him at all times. Just because he was young, with a tall, sturdy frame, thick hair, strong jawline, plump pink lips, and a naturally prominent bulge that he couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. There were always eyes watching his every move. No, he wasn't the type to flaunt his sex appeal. He didn't like that he was watched like a hawk because he was “hot”. He knew he was watched, knew the women lusted after him, but he kept himself in check. He also knew he was attractive, confident, and had a charm that could sway any girl to be on their knees within seconds. He’d used it quite a few times in college. But as far as he was concerned, he was at the school to teach Composition and Reading - not to stare at girls in their tiny skirts or at their shirts that they refused to button the way they should. He wasn't here for that, plus half of the girls were underage anyway. That and it was just simply wrong. Strictly against the rules.

And it wasn't just the students that would throw themselves at him - but the female staff as well. That made the eyes on him even heavier, as if someone higher up was just waiting for him to slip up, take the bait and get himself into a mess he’s sure he’d never get out of. Because of the close watch on him, he would try and escape from the prying eyes of his co-workers during his lunch break just to sit by himself and get much needed work done that he might not have time for at home or during the day. He liked that this was his alone time without anyone bothering his concentration. He actually thought it was one of the crucial parts of his school day.

He got enough sex to satisfy his needs elsewhere anyhow, not much, but enough. It slowed down after he had a small fling with a female teacher when he first arrived at the school - but it ended as quickly as it started. He fucked her twice and then she turned obsessive and he had to end it in the kindest way he could. He didn't have the energy for the “coworker against coworker” fiasco that would surely start if the word got out that he rejected her after they’d had sex. It would sound dishonorable to everyone that didn't understand the situation. But other than that, it was women he took interest in that were friends of friends, even some women he’s hooked up with before. It wasn't like when he was in college - he was kind of a sex crazy beast in his younger years. That hasn't changed, he just didn't have as much opportunity. Though since he wasn't really meeting anyone at school, he wasn't making it a point to go and find a random female to fuck. Just wasn't his forte. But he liked to believe he got enough. Enough to keep him from going insane.

He sighed softly, not all that happy about being interrupted, but not wanting to ignore whoever it was and be rude. He set his blue inked pen down, stopped the soft music playing from his phone, and pushed the hair back on his head neatly. He noticed that on many occasions it gets quite frazzled from him tugging on it when he was bored or frustrated. He wondered for a moment if it was just another teacher wanting to come and sit with him for some company, but that didn't sound appealing for him if he’s honest. He wanted to be alone and most of the teachers knew that. He cleared his throat, just to assure the person who was waiting that he was inside, before he finally spoke out calmly, but with enough volume that whoever it was could hear him, “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, slowly enough that he just knew it wasn't a teacher. Teachers opened the door with purpose, not a hint of shyness in sight. Students were always the ones that opened the door like it weighed 100 pounds. That thought in mind, he wasn't really surprised that he was right. But he was surprised to see the familiar face of one of his best students. He recognized her beautiful face immediately as she appeared slowly from behind the door. Blushing cheeks and all.

She stood almost nervous with her snug white blouse and grey plaid skirt. A dull outfit for such a bright girl. But it wasn't her fault she had to wear a uniform. He knew what the girls had to wear and he knew she was a little older than the rest of the girls in her class. She was in his Senior class he remembered. She was ravishing. Utterly fucking gorgeous and he couldn't deny it. Ethan tried his hardest not to look down her body. But he found himself holding back more than he thought was normal. She was normally very shy, sat in the back, had her head low during class, fiddled with her pen a lot. She had cute quirks that he caught onto early in the year. She was always the first to hand in her paper, and it was always excellent, had neat handwriting and wonderful thoughts - but she refused to participate in class discussions. He never thought anything of her silence, so he thought it was strange that she would come to his class unannounced and during a time she wasn't allowed. He knew she knew the rules that had been set in place for all four years and even before that.

She took a step inside the room, hands toying with the white bottom button of her blouse. A small smile rushed to her face at the sight of his eyes lingering on her patiently.

“Can I help you?” He ushered her forward, earning him a small nod and the view of her turning around the shut the door softly behind her. He took note that she twisted the lock quickly, secretively. His eyes flickered with confusion at her actions, but he shook his head to rid the look before she turned back around and took a step closer to him with a nervous huff from her rosy lips. If he looked closer, he might see her visibly shaking.

“You know I don’t usually offer help during lunch,” he explained, knowing she knew, but making it clear that she was breaking the rules. He felt bad for a moment that he sounded so harsh and cold. He was unsure why she was even here, she was the top of her class - she’d always had a steady A in the class - and every other class he’s sure. Surely she didn't really need the help.

“I know Mr. Dolan I’m sorry, I just need a little bit of help,” she finally spoke, doe eyes blinking a few times at him, showing off her long lashes. He saw that her pupils were dilated but chose to ignore it. He didn't want to make any assumptions that weren't true.

“You can come back 5th hour if you’d like, I don't really have the time during lunch...Y/n right?” He pondered, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest while he stared her down. God she was beautiful.

“Uh yeah.” A sweet smile makes it’s way to her face, along with a pinky blush. She rocks back and forth on her heels, a nervous habit he’s noticed a few times this year. She doesn't ask many questions, but when she does she always falls into that habit. She just never knew what to do with herself when it came to him.

“Well, Y/n just come back in a few hours with any questions you have and we can go from there, sound good?” The way she’s making his heart race is making him sweat, his hand coming up to loosen the tie from around his neck. He felt like he might choke if she kept batting her eyelashes at him like that.

“You don’t even have a second to listen?” she simpered, dipping her head to the side and giving him her best puppy dog eyes. There was a glimmer in her eyes he hadn't ever seen before, it had him clearing his throat once more. He really wanted to cut her some slack, just feeling the nerves radiating off of her was making him nervous now. The way she’d said it made it seem like she came to talk to him about a personal problem, and that alone had him tensing up from his neck to his shoulders. He’s not really all that good with personal problems, hell he’s not even good with his own. Plus if this is true, he doesn't know why in the hell she would go to him and not any of the many female teachers in the building who were far more equipped to help.

“I really don't mean to be bothering you, I can see your really busy. I’m just kind of nervous about my grades and with finals coming up I’m getting in my head about all of the work...” she carries on, resulting to chewing on her bottom lip to ease the nerves coursing through her.

“There’s really nothing to worry about, Y/n. You’ve always excelled in this class and I’m sure the final won’t be any different. I can assure you that you’ll find it easy. I can give you extra study material if you’d like, just to freshen up.” He really was trying to pacify her, not knowing exactly what to say to someone that was so nervous about a class that was clearly so easy for them. Not only that but she kept chewing on her fucking lip and it was driving him mad. She wouldn't even meet his eyes, seemingly making it worse for him.

“Honestly...that’s not really my problem,” she admitted with a sigh while she stepped the tiniest bit closer, noticing his eyes flicker down to where her silky smooth thighs rubbed together while she walked, “I kind of need some personal advice, sir. It’ll only take a second.”

The look she was giving him from under her long lashes was void of any of the shyness he’d seen moments before, no. This time he could see something devious and lustful pooling in her dilated pupils. She watched him closely as a look of confusion took over his handsome features once again. He chose to ignore the fact that she was now standing directly in front of his desk, keeping his eyes trained solely on her face and nowhere else.

“I think a female teacher would be better fit to counsel you with a personal problem, miss Y/l/n. I’m afraid I wouldn't be too much help,” he smiled softly at her, eyes full of sympathy. So handsome. “But I do advise you to get back to lunch before an administrator finds you in here. I don’t think they’d be too happy about seeing a student roaming the halls when it’s such a nice day outside.”

“Sir, I don't think you understand,” she rushes, “I really need your help. I came to you for a reason.”

He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips quickly, but he noticed nonetheless. He notices a lot of the things she does.

“Is it serious? If it’s serious you should see the principal. But you really should get back to lunch, Y/n,” he urges on before she has a chance to answer, “You may come back 5th hour if you’d like. I’ll have more time to talk. But it’s best if you get back to your friends.” He’s nervous about how close her body is, breath turning shallow from the sweet smell of her perfume.

Her brows dip down as she huffs, frustrated that he’s not catching onto her obvious flirting - and if he is, that he’s not giving her anything to work with. Ethan sits upright just as she rounds his desk, the toe of her shoe pressing against the wheel to roll the chair back further. He stays still, staring up at her looming frame over him, too shocked to do anything else. If he was expecting anything from her, it definitely wasn't that. He feels the soft tips of her hair rubbing against his cheekbone just as she swings her leg over his exposed lap, fitting to him snug. She’s straddling him, clothed core pressed right up against his bulge. Her skirt was bunched up over her thighs, smooth skin exposed for him to touch if he wished.

“You see the thing is...none of the female teachers have what I want...what I need,” she whispers, staring into his hazel eyes that gawk at her twirling his tie between her fingers. Her tone is suggestive, seductive, everything it shouldn't be towards her teacher.

“Miss Y/l/n, this is extremely inappropriate,” he grunts, wanting to push her off of his lap in shock, but instead raising his hands so he’s not touching her at all. If someone tries to come in he doesn't want them to see his hands even near her body that fits with his so...perfectly. No he needs to focus.

“I’m just really stressed and anxious sir,” she whispers again, running her hands down his front and noticing how firm he was beneath the material of his dress shirt. She sighs as her pussy clenches at the thought of what resides beneath, “I haven't had sex in months which is far too long. I just need to be fucked right.”

“Y/n get off. This is against the rules and you shouldn't be here,” he spoke sternly, as much as he could through his voice shaking. He expected her to look hurt, maybe even offended at him rejecting her in such an embarrassing way, but he only saw a smirk.

“Mr. Dolan I need a man,” she hummed, “a man that will fuck me nice and hard. I need you Mr. Dolan. I need you to fuck me.” She popped her lip out into a pout, still running her hands up and down his chest until she hooked her arms around his neck and leaned in close to his lips. If he just leaned forward a bit they would be kissing.

He really didn't expect for this normally quiet and shy girl on top of him to be so bold. He had never seen her like this and never thought in a million years these words would be tumbling from her mouth. He gasps quickly when she reaches down to tug at his belt buckle, staring down with a hungry look on her face, eye fucking him.

This had never happened before and he wasn't really sure what to do. Normally the advances from the girls were subtle and harmless, but this was...this was dangerous in many ways. To say his morals were floating around in his head in a jumbled mess because he can feel the heat from her pussy against his dick is an understatement. He wanted it but he didn't want to want it. He grabbed onto her wrist in an attempt to stop her, watching her pout return to her face at the fact that he tried to stop her.

“I’m well aware of your intentions Y/n. But this is wrong. I will not have sex with a student. No if, ands, or buts. Now leave and I promise we won’t ever have to talk about it again. I won’t tell anyone about this.” He meant it too. He didn't want a single person knowing that his student was sitting pretty on his lap in her...sexy uniform that wouldn't be sexy on anyone else but her if he’s being honest, “But I want you to get off my lap right now.”

She sat for a moment, just staring at him to gauge his reaction before she slowly let go of his belt, looking as if she’d admitted defeat. “Okay...I’m sorry I broke the rules, sir.” But just as it had before, that same sensual grin came onto her face, sending a nice thumping from his heart through his chest once again as she said, “I’m so sorry that I've been a bad girl.”

She slid her hips forward and back again repeatedly, not stopping even when his breathing stopped short and she felt his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingertips. She grabbed into the collar of his shirt, using it for something to hold onto as she rolled her hips into his, making it unbearable for him to stay in line. He watched in awe while she untucked her shirt from the waistband of her skirt, pulling it out and slowly undoing the buttons, one by one until she revealed the soft pink of her bra and the curves of her hips. She was breathtaking and he couldn't deny that if he wanted to. She pushed her core harder against his slacks, loving the pressure it put against her clit. His eyes traveled down the expanse of her body to where their hips met, feeling like he might pass out if she doesn't stop now.

If he’s honest, he’s wanted this for quite some time. She’s just...something else. He’s caught himself staring at her longer than he should in lectures and she doesn't know it but he can see right up her skirt when she sits at her desk, his eyes drifting down far too often from his own desk. But he would never imagine himself acting on anything. The consequences that would follow if anyone ever caught him kissing her like he desired to, were scary to say the least. But he wanted to so bad. That thought had him gulping while he looked at her all spread out on his lap and grinding herself against him. Her head was resting against her shoulder, a blissed out look on her face while she rolled over his clothed dick, the skin of her thighs causing a rubbing sound that he didn't mind much.

He was suddenly happy for a split second that she locked the door, even though he knew someone would be able to see the shadow through the glass window if they looked hard enough. He also know that the administrators and janitors had a key to his door and would surely use it if they had any indication something insubordinate was going on inside. It had him all jittery the think that someone could catch them even if he hasn't touched her...yet. He hated the fact that he was tempted, he was so tempted to fuck her senseless that it almost killed him to not have his hands dipping into her sides and roll her harder against him.

His cheeks were heating up fast by the quiet moan that emits from her lips, soft and angelic. He knows that if he lets it slide they will only get louder and he doesn't want a single soul to hear. He knows that the building is deserted, but just the thought of someone hearing her sounds is terrifying and sends a panic through him, causing a hand to fly up and cover her mouth, the other to wrap around her throat lightly. It was the first time he’s touched her and he felt like his hands were on fire just by touching her skin. He was going to hell.

She stared at him over his hands, breathing out through her nose and waiting for him to explain why he’d shushed her so frantically. He looks mad. And he is. He’s fucking pissed off that he wants her so bad and that he’s so hard beneath her he’s worried he’s leaking precum. He’s mad that she’s put him in a position that has his brain so out of order that he can't think of anything else but ramming his dick into her against his desk. He’s mad that he’s never wanted to fuck someone so bad in his life and he’s mad that she has to be his student. He’s mad because he wants her, and not just right now, but always and it’s driving him crazy.

“Don’t you realize what will happen if I fuck you, Y/n? Do you fucking know?” He seethed, a hand reaching to grip at her ass deliciously, leaving a smack against the flesh and feeling it jiggle in his hands. She jumps away from his hand against her mouth from the contact, surprised that he made such a risky move when he’s been frozen like a statue the whole time.

“You’ll cum...I’ll cum...we’ll have mind blowing sex,” she answers calmly, so sure it makes him more mad because he’s certain she’s right.

“Wrong. I’ll get fired. I will be out on my ass before I can even blink,” he snapped, “I will lose everything. We will both be in a fuck ton of trouble, including you...then you’ll really be stressed won’t you kitten?” he hums, a smirk plastered onto his face as he leans in to ghost his lips over her own, testing the line before stepping over it. She’s pouting agains, wanting him to kiss her and show her what he’s really thinking because this denial is bullshit and she can tell he wants it. She can tell from his hard-on that’s pressing against her right now.

She nods, not wanting him to deny her but still understanding why he’s so scared to want it. But Ethan takes her by surprise when he places both hands under her ass and lifts her up like a feather. She clutches his biceps tightly from his sudden movements, clinging onto him just until he sets her on the edge of his desk. He had one hand buried in her hair, making a fist and pulling.

“So I’m gonna need you to keep that pretty mouth closed okay?” he growled, sinister glare set straight into her eyes. He was serious. No games here. He was holding back a smile at the giggle she let out next, overjoyed when he spread her legs wider. She’s keeping herself up on her elbows, grinning up at his handsome face, tempted to pull him down by his tie for a kiss. But he still hasn't gotten an answer.

He grips her chin angrily, making sure she’s looking right into his hazel eyes, “Am I understood?” So stern. She knew that he was trying to assert himself, make sure she knew he was in the position of power. But he had nothing to worry about when it came to her, that’s all she wants right now. To have him take control and use her in the best way.

“Yeah, daddy,” she simpered once again, a tiny pout on her face. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock in an instant. He’s never been called that before but something about the way she said it had him addicted already, “I promise I’ll keep you a secret, I promise I won’t tell,” she carried on, dragging a finger across his sharp jawline, leaning up just enough to leave a peck against the skin of his neck. When she leaned back, she was biting her bottom lip again.

He couldn't think about how wrong this was. He couldn't think about the fact that he was possibly taking advantage of her when he was adult and was the one responsible for saying no. So instead of thinking he pulled her to the edge of the desk, tugging harshly on her plaid skirt. She sat in her matching baby pink panties, so delicate for such a dirty girl. He took the time to dip his hand down, cupping her heat and rubbing slowly, torturing her like she’d tortured him for so long. He only toyed with her for a moment longer before ripping her bra off, panties off as well, he groaned from deep in his chest as the sight of her dripping core.

He wanted to take it slow, feel every curve of her body, every inch of her skin - but considering his compromising position he needed to make it fast. He couldn't waste time. He needed to fuck her hard and fast like she wanted and get it out of his system because it’s eating him alive. He didn't have the time to caress her and kiss her tenderly. He just couldn't take the time right now. The thought of someone coming to knock on the door while he had her splayed out wide and wet on his desk was something that chilled him to the bone.

He paused for just a second so that the rapid thoughts in his head could quiet down and let him focus: What if she’s underage? What if someone comes? This is so wrong. You’re gonna get fired. But how could he ever say no?

Instead of getting lost in his thoughts and overthinking the entire situation, he chose not to think at all - let his instincts take in. He quickly grasped the cold metal of his belt buckle, peeling it from his belt loops on his slacks and pushing them all the way down his legs and to the side. He watched her gazing at him dreamily, so focused on his large hands pulling his massive length out for her to see, sitting so deliciously in his palm. She licked her lips when she noticed the tip was the same reddish pink as his freshly kissed lips. He tossed his underwear into the pile of clothes on the floor beside the desk, forgotten. He leaned over her, taking another second to land his lips on hers once again, tasting her chapstick and feeling his heart warm at the way she leans back up when he tries to pull away, sighing into his mouth.

When he breaks free he’s grabbing at himself to rub the head of his cock up and down her wet opening. Ethan teased her slowly, tapping at her clit just to hear her gasp and jump beneath his touch. She clenches with a wince when he tries to push in slowly, never has she been with anyone this big and she hope he understood from the whimper that slipped out. He gave her a soft smile, rubbing his hand over her soft thigh in understanding, making sure that when he tries again he takes his time.

He has to stop halfway, throwing his head back from the way she grips him so tight, overwhelmed. Y/n grips his arms, bracing herself for him to sink all the way inside of her. He captures her lips with his own as he rammed his cock into her time and time again, relishing in the warm tight wetness of her pussy that he’s not stopped thinking about since she unknowingly opened her legs from beneath her desk months ago and he caught sight of heaven on earth. His hips met hers with a harsh smack, loud enough to be heard from outside the door, but a delicious sound to his ears anyway. Ethan was over the moon, buried deep into the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, who happened to be none other than his student. He breathed hard when his gaze went from her bright eyes down to her chest that rose and fell rapidly, down to where he disappeared inside of her heat.

Y/n couldn't hardly breathe just looking at his body so firm above her, tie swinging with every thrust of his hips, buttons undone at the top of his shirt. She was tempted to shut her eyes simply from the pleasure and euphoria that took over her every nerve, but refrained when she saw the blissed out look on his face she’d only ever seen in her dreams.

She had envisioned this exact moment so many times within her daydreams, scribbling mindlessly while she watched him talk about nonsense in front of the class, scanning her eyes over his front the best that she could when he wasn't looking. It was maddening to want his cock so bad. She’d dreamt about being fucked against this very desk. She’d woken up in a sweaty gasping frenzy from the vivid image of what she is seeing right now. But this time it was real and she was being fucked on his desk. The grunts and groans emitting from his mouth weren't a figment of her imagination any longer. He was ramming into her shaking body so hard that the pens near her head were knocked to the floor with a clatter, binders falling, papers flicking off the wood and to the ground silently. But he paid no attention to the racket, only her loud breathing and gushing sounds coming from where he did his best to ruin her.

A spark of anger arose from deep within his chest when he looks up to find her grinning at him, a gloating sneaky little glare that reads “you love this and you know it.” It made him angry because she did this, she walked in here everyday in her short she knew was too short, she came and sought him out, made him weak, made him want her. With an angry “fuck” Ethan’s wrapping one hand around her throat - not too tight, but tight enough to make a point and grumbling low, “You knew what you were doing didn't you?”

She grabs at his wrist, hand fumbling with his fingers for a second, just feeling at them lightly with a smile, nodding her head and batting her eyelashes. She could feel her thighs shaking and tightening around his waist, her heels pushing into his thighs to push him into her harder.

“Such a fucking slut...is this what you wanted?” he continues to growl from within his throat, hard staring her with dark, lust-filled eyes.

“Y-yes,” she gasped, a strangled sound coming from her throat from the pressure of his hand around her airway, “fuck me harder daddy please. Love it so much.”

Ethan had become hot and sweaty quickly, a patch forming on the front of his shirt from where he’d soaked through, enough to have him yanking at his tie and hastily removing it from around his neck. He suddenly felt very large in a shirt that normally fits so well, but then again he was never pushing against the buttons and railing a beautiful girl into his desk, so that might be a factor to think about.

“Fuckin’ hot in here,” he grumbled to himself as he unbuttoned his blazer all the way down, feeling the cool air touch his chest for the first time and sighing at how good it felt. He still hasn't stilled his hips, his rhythm even and steady. It impressed her that he had a will to keep going to matter what and she just knew that even if someone did knock on that door - he wouldn't stop. He would finish what he started. But looking at his bare torso that showed under the unbuttoned shirt still had her breathless and swooning. She hadn't expected him to take his clothes off, too worried about how fast he needed to be for obvious reasons. But she wasn't complaining by any means.

The slither of tan skin that she could see had her whimpering and throwing her head back on the desk, nails reaching beneath the flailing fabric to rake her nails down the smooth surface - over every bump and ridge. She forced herself to open her eyes and appreciate the way his abs flexed with every thrust into her, the way his eyebrows were drawn down in concentration, the way he bit at his bottom lip and watched her closely. She hardly expected him to grip at the back of her neck to pull her up just enough to bury his face in the skin of her neck - kissing fiercely. His teeth dug in in the most delicious way, sucking on the sore spots and admiring the dark purple that was left behind from his assault. They would be nearly impossible to cover, and that made him proud. With a grin he gripped her hips tight, ramming himself into her harder still, chuckling at the bright red of her skin from his hips pounding into her own. If she wanted rough, rough was what she was going to get.

“Yessss daddy right there right there right there-” she screeched so loud he was sure the entire city would be able to hear. But he didn't have the heart to stop her. He craved to hear that desperate howl, frantic and scared he was going to stop hitting that sweet spot that drove her to madness. Well, he wouldn't dream of it.

“You like that spot kitten? Hm? Right here?” he mocked, pushing a hand down on her tummy and driving into her deep, stilling before pulling out all the way, and slamming right back in.

She whimpered pathetically, throwing her head back and trying to crawl away from how deep he was. She’s sure that if she didn't want to look tough, she would be crying right now. But she just wanted to be good for him.

When he offered two fingers for her to suck on, she greedily opened her mouth, tongue out, flicking around the digits while they settled against the flesh. Her eyes trained on his own menacing hazel ones while she sucked, letting him gag her if he pleased, adoring the way she felt so full in not one but two places. The tears brimmed in her eyes while he pushed his fingers to the back of her throat, fucking her mouth with his hand and loving the gagging sound she gave him.

“God look at you taking me so well...sucking daddy’s fingers like the good girl you are...so pretty,” he whispered, almost to himself with how low the volume of his voice was. But she heard, and it still made her feel good. The ball inside of her started to grow bigger the more he pushed into her, the harder he pounding, the more he gagged her, the more he praised and degraded her all at once. It was all too much and if he kept going she would have no choice but to let the fire consume her.

She bucked her hip up, taking notice of the sound of crumpling paper underneath her and giggling when she remembered it was probably papers he was grading from before. If only they knew. If only they could see the way their teacher fucked her raw and wild on his desk, fingers dipping into her skin, groaning low and dark into her ear, smashing his lips against hers like he really meant it. Did he really mean it? If only they could know that the crumple of the papers he was going to hand back would be from their sexual escapade happening right now. It all made her head spin in the best way.

Her screaming only rose in volume, his eyes widening and a hand rising to cover her opened mouth. He gave her a brilliant smile, but a warning still lingered in his eyes that looked down on her. “Shhh baby,” he shushed her, feeling her giggle behind his hand, her eyes shining at him innocently. But he knew so much different. He pulled his hand away only to lift her from the desk once more, shuffling her weight up his body, loving the way she fit him so perfectly. He held her in his arms, her own circling around his neck and kissing at his cheekbones lovingly.

Ethan was still buried to the hilt, so deep in her pussy, so warm. He took her ass into his hands and bounced her up and down on his muscular body, smacking her body down onto his own and sucking at her nipples while she moaned repeatedly above him.

Y/n hooks her ankles behind his waist, bucking her hips against his because she just couldn't get enough. He was addicting. She adored the way he gazed at her, sucked at her tits, treated her pussy like gold, kissed her like there was this passion he’s waited to set free for so long, adored the way he did a complete 180 from a professional that was scared to let loose, to a fuck machine that broke her apart with his dick. She moaned hungrily while she looked down at him suckling on her left breast, her bud rolling against his skilled tongue. She wondered for a moment what it would feel like on her pussy, wondered if it’s everything she imagined it would be. She had no doubts she was right.

“How do I feel baby? Is daddy doing a good job?” he growls, looking for the reassurance he honestly didn't need. He knew he was doing amazing by the shaking in her thighs in his hands. But he still wanted to hear her filthy little mouth say it.

“So good daddy, doing so good,” she emphasized every word, whimpering and moaning and gasping like a complete mess that she is. She would be okay if she finished like this, with him holding her like she doesn't weigh a pound, ramming her down onto his cock hard and fast and unbelievably easy. And she nearly complains when he starts to back up and tumble into the desk chair. It rolls slightly under the pairs weight.

He wraps her lips within a tender kiss once again, breaking free with a sharp intake. “Ride me kitten,” he grunted, continuing to kneed the flesh of her ass in his hands. He doesn't know why he’s doing it, but he knows he likes doing it. And he knows she likes him doing it by the content smile stretched across her face.

She nodded at his demand, situating herself against his lap to find leverage before she started to bounce with purpose.

She continued to sink down, wiggling her hips just to tease him when she felt the small tickle of the tuft of hair near his belly button. She was clenching, grinding, genuinely throwing it back on him in a way he’s never seen before, and he doesn't think after this he’ll be able to keep himself in check.

She moaned in his ear just by the feeling of his large hands caressing up her back and down to her ass to leave a harsh slap, surely leaving a lovely red splotch behind. He found the strength to raise his head from her tits, tightening his grip on her ass and moaning softly at how good she felt, “Such a good girl for me. Ride my fuckin dick, yeah that’s it. Make me cum, baby. Be good and make daddy proud of you. Make me cum.”

Ethan could feel his orgasm coming in strong, racing through him fast. He sat back in the chair, closing his eyes and really feeling all of her walls contract around his shaft and hug him so tight. He breathed out hard through his nose, trying to decide whether he would have the strength to hold it if he opened his eyes again.

Y/n grinned at his struggle, bouncing faster and faster, moaning louder and longer. His jaw clenched with every swear word that tumbled from her rosy lips, reminding her of just how handsome he was. When she let go around him, her juices spraying out against the tan skin of his thighs, he thought he might lose it at the sight. She was writhing and dragging her nails down his arms, scratching at his skin.

“Fuuuckkkkk oh my fucking God that’s so...oh my fucking God right there,” she screeching louder than ever before, shocked that she hasn't felt him release into her yet.

The heat that had just erupted inside of her was unlike anything she’d felt before. Certainly one of the hardest if not the best orgasms she’s ever had. He gave her a cocky grin when he smacked his hand down onto her ass one final time before lifting her away. He couldn't risk cumming in her and her not be on birth control considering he hadn't used a condom for obvious reasons.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered her hotly, voice low and stern. She dropped to the ground with wobbly knees and a racing heart, her pussy clenching around nothing in particular now that she was empty. She still felt herself dripping in arousal against the floor beneath her, knowing she will most likely have to go home and change after this and feign illness. The soreness in her limbs already tells her walking won’t be the best option for the rest of the day.

She took him gently into her hand, wrapping her plump lips around his swollen head to suckle and kiss it gently. She wanted to drive him crazy, wanted him to look at her with pleading eyes and a panic in him that she won’t let him cum. When she removes her lips, she receives that very same look, begging without actually saying a word. So licks up the underside of him, a slow, hot stroke of her tongue. Messy and filled with saliva. He watched her carefully, resting a hand within her hair as she enveloped him in her wet mouth. He thought he might pass out when she pushed him all the way inside her mouth, deepthroating him with tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She took it like she was forced, even though he had simply rested his head back and let her work at him. It was all too much. She started to pump what she didn't have in her mouth, feeling him twitch against her tongue and buck his hips up randomly, gagging her.

“Y/n I’m gonna-” he’s cut short with a long breath from his nose, clenching his jaw tight while he finished down her throat in long hot spurts. She was clenching her eyes shut and taking it like the good girl she was, swallowing every drop he gave her. It surprised her that it was sweeter than she thought, all thoughts of the liquid being bitter now gone. He continued to groan above her, sensitive and wincing from her hand that kept pumping him. She knew he was completely finished, she removed him from her mouth with a pop and an angelic smile, kissing his tip one last time.

He was frozen in his chair, frozen and shocked and fucked out and scared. Scared because he’s never cum that hard in his life ever. Shocked because he didn't want her to go. Frozen because she was rising her feet already, giggling while she gathered her clothing from the ground and got dressed in quick motions. He couldn't even find it in himself to move from how hard he’d just orgasmed.

He watched her calmly, arms dangling over the arms of the chair, limp and lifeless, dick laying against his belly. He smiled softly when she leaned down to leave a breathless kiss on his lips, then his cheek, then his jaw while she held his face gently. “Thank you daddy,” she whispered, kissing his jaw just one more time before she leaned back to send him a wink, “I promise I won’t tell.”

Ethan sat still while she pulled her panties up her legs, then her skirt, before buttoning her blouse and tucking it in to try and look the same as she did when she walked through the door. His head spun at the swivel of her hips as she tugged up the skirt, knowing if he had more time he’d fuck her again. She grabbed her bag from the floor, swung it over her shoulder and looked back at him with a grin, raising her hand to wave at him just as she opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, leaving him alone. The door closed with a click, normally it was quiet, but now that the moans and slapping of skin were absent, it sounded deafening.

He looked across his destroyed desk, papers strewn every which direction, pens on the floor, papers wet from her juices, seeing it in a totally new light than he had moments before. He scooped the pens from the ground, then the runaway papers, then his clothing that he had ripped from his body in a moment of weakness. That’s what it was right? A moment of absolute weakness that can never ever happen again.

It was just a moment that will be erased in history, never spoken about. He tried cleaning his desk up as neatly as possible, trying not to worry about the fact that he was naked, that is, until the bell rang and panic set in.

He fucked a student. He actually fucked her. He didn't just have sex with her but he fucked her. He’s naked right now, in his classroom, cleaning up the desk that he fucked her on. He’s going to have to teach after this. He’s going to have to care about teaching her classmates after this. He’s going to have to think of her pussy now when he jerks off. He’s going to have to try and forget the way she just rode him in his chair like a dirty little slut. He’s going to have to try and forget the way she’d called him daddy. He’s going to have to forget that he wants to do it again.

“Fuck.”

tags: @dolandolll @stayalivw

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esperwatchesfilms · 3 years

Text

Dead Poets Society (1989)

John Keating: O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It's from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now, in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating or, if you're slightly more daring, O Captain, my Captain.

John Keating: I was the intellectual equivalent of a 98-pound weakling. I would go to the beach and people would kick copies of Byron in my face.

The above gif is misquoting a bit here. It annoys me, so I’m providing the proper quote:

John Keating: Because we are food for worms, lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die.

[after hearing "The Introduction to Poetry"] John Keating: Excrement! That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe! We're talking about poetry. How can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? "I like Byron, I give him a 42 but I can't dance to it!"

John Keating: This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls.

John Keating: We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering; these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.

John Keating: Beauty. Romance. Love. These are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish ... What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here -- that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

McAllister: "Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams and I'll show you a happy man." John Keating: "But only in their dreams can men be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be." McAllister: Tennyson? John Keating: No. Keating.

John Keating: Language was developed for one endeavor, and that is... Mr. Anderson? Come on, are you a man or an amoeba? [Todd stays silent] John Keating: Mr. Perry? Neil Perry: To communicate. John Keating: No! To woo women!

Todd Anderson: YAWP! John Keating: There it is! You see, you have a barbarian in you after all! Now, you don’t get away that easy. There’s a picture of Uncle Walt up there. What does he remind you of? Don’t think, answer. Go on. Todd Anderson: A m-m-m-madman. John Keating: What kind of madman? Don’t think about it! Just answer again. Todd Anderson: A cr-crazy madman. John Keating: No, you can do better than that. Free up your mind. Use your imagination! Say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it’s total gibberish. Go on, go on! Todd Anderson: A-a-a sweaty-toothed madman. John Keating: Good God, boy, there’s a poet in you after all! There. Close your eyes. Close your eyes! Close 'em! Now, describe what you see.

Todd Anderson: Uh, I-I close my eyes. John Keating: Yes. Todd Anderson: Uh, and this image floats beside me. John Keating: A sweaty-toothed madman. Todd Anderson: A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain. John Keating: Oh, that's excellent! Now, give him action; make him do something! Todd Anderson: H-His hands reach out and choke me. John Keating: That's it! Wonderful, wonderful! Todd Anderson: And all the time he's mumbling. John Keating: What's he mumbling? Todd Anderson: Mumbling truth. John Keating: Yeah, yes. Todd Anderson: Truth like-like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. John Keating: [some of the class start to laugh; Todd opens his eyes, Keating blocks them to get him to close them again] Forget them! Forget them! Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket! Todd Anderson: Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying t-to the moment we leave dying, it'll just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream. [Todd opens his eyes, there’s a long pause, then the class applauds] John Keating: Don't you forget this.

John Keating: Even though others may think them odd or unpopular; even though the herd may go, [imitating a goat] John Keating: "That's ba-a-a-a-ad." Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Neil Perry: [finds Todd sitting alone on the roof] Hey! Todd Anderson: Hey. Neil Perry: What's going on? Todd Anderson: Nothin'. Today's my birthday. Neil Perry: Is today your birthday? Happy birthday! Todd Anderson: Thanks. Neil Perry: What'd you get? Todd Anderson: [indicating the desk set lying beside him] My parents gave me this. Neil Perry: Isn't this the same desk set... Todd Anderson: Yeah. Yeah, they gave me the same thing as last year. Neil Perry: Oh. Todd Anderson: Oh. Neil Perry: [laughing] Maybe they thought you needed another one. Todd Anderson: [laughing] Maybe they weren't thinking about anything at all. The funny thing about this is, I-I didn't even like it the first time. Neil Perry: Todd, I think you're underestimating the value of this desk set. [picks it up] Neil Perry: I mean, who would want a football or a baseball or... Todd Anderson: Or a car. Neil Perry: Or a car, if they could have a desk set as wonderful as this one? I mean, if-if I were ever going to buy a desk set twice -- [both boys chuckle] Neil Perry: -- I would probably buy this one. Both times! In fact, its shape is... it's rather aerodynamic, isn't it? [walks to the edge of the roof] Neil Perry: You can feel it. This desk set wants to fly! [hands it to Todd] Neil Perry: Todd? The world's first unmanned flying desk set. [Todd throws it off the roof, giving a yell (or a yawp!) - papers fly everywhere and things crash and clatter to the ground while the boys laugh] Neil Perry: Oh my! Well, I wouldn't worry. You'll get another one next year.

Charlie Dalton: [answering disconnected phone] Welton Academy, hello. Yes, he is. Just a moment. Mr. Nolan, it's for you. It's God.

John Keating: There's a time for daring and there's a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.

John Keating: Phone call from God. If it had been collect, that would have been daring.

The above is also not what is said in the film. “Tell me what you feel!” is the actual line.

*didn’t put us *up* to anything - these gifs misquoting are killing me.

ESE: 120/100

50 +5 for young Ethan Hawke +10 for Robin Williams +4 for the alternative four pillars: Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement. +5 for Kurtwood Smith -10 for Neil’s father, Mr. Perry +5 for Keating walking straight out of the classroom on day 1 +5 for Carpe Diem +5 for Keating instructing the boys to rip the shitty introduction to poetry out of the book +2 for Keating’s whistling -5 for Cameron being a little wussy boy +2 for “rude squeak” +2 for sneaking out to read poetry +10 for the centerfold with poem written on the back +10 for the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with the golden track -10 for calling Todd out in front of the class +5 for the bed chase that finally gets Todd involved +5 for Neil getting the part of Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream -10 for students like Hopkins +15 for Keating helping Todd to find his voice +5 for saxophone -10 for the same desk set -5 for bringing the two girls to the DPS meeting -5 for kissing the forehead of a girl you barely know while she’s asleep -10 for the over-reaction of Chet -10 for corporal punishment +10 for “Nuwanda” not breaking -10 for Neil’s super-unreasonable father +15 for Keating’s advice to Neil -5 for Knox’s persistence -5 for Neil lying to Keating about talking to his father +10 for Neil’s performance as Puck +5 for the amount of praise Neil receives for his performance +10 for Keating’s concern -10 for suicide aftermath -15 for Cameron being a fucking fink +20 for Nuwanda (Charlie) punching Cameron in his stupid face -10 for the school using Keating as a scapegoat +20 for Todd’s show of appreciation and those who joined in solidarity on their desks +10 for Hopkins joining and standing on his desk, too

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

Caught in his web, Chapter 36

When Chloe finished college on Friday afternoon, she was surprised to find Nelson, along with Ethan and Samuel, waiting for her outside the gates. She had planned to walk home, but felt her stomach sink upon seeing them.

‘Hey guys… What’s going on?’ She asked, especially worried by the look on their faces.

‘We will explain in the car.’ Ethan said and proceeded to open the door for her.

When they all bundled in, she asked again what was going on.

Ethan looked at Samuel before answering. ‘Loki has been arrested… Officer Stones came and arrested him, the police raided the house but didn’t find anything. However, he claims that they have strong evidence against Loki and David. DNA...’

‘What? What did they do or think they did?’ Chloe was shocked, worried, scared…

‘They are saying that they killed a prostitute.’ Samuel said.

‘But… Why, why would they do that? I mean… I know that Loki does… But why a prostitute?’

‘That’s the thing, they didn’t. Stones must have set them up. We don’t know how, but it’s bloody strong.’ Ethan said angrily. ‘It’s difficult coming up with an alibi because of the time of night it’s claimed to have happened, too. Apparently after two am. And there’s no security footage anywhere to help either.’

Chloe ran her hands down her face. She felt sick, what would happen to Loki? Then what would happen to her, too?

‘Take me to the station.’

‘What?’ Samuel frowned.

‘Take me to the station. Now!’ She said, determined.

Ethan and Samuel shared a look, but neither argued with her. So, Samuel turned around to Nelson. ‘Take us to the police station please, Nelson.’

‘No problem.’ Nelson nodded and went right around the next roundabout.

When they arrived at the station, Chloe went storming in and demanded to speak to whoever was in charge of Loki’s arrest. She was quickly taken through into an interview room.

Officer Stones was watching through the mirrored glass while another two officers were doing her interview.

‘He didn’t do it.’ Chloe said firmly.

‘We unfortunately have evidence that places him and David at the scene. And without an alibi’

‘I was with him all night. We were up most of the night.’ Chloe blurted out.

It was half true. Chloe had been in bed and Loki was working late, but when he returned after midnight, he’d crawled into her bed with her and gave her a rather thorough fucking.

The officers paused and looked at one another. Then Chloe continued.

‘David was with us too.’

The officers shared another look.

‘The three of us had dinner, a few drinks and then we went to bed… Together. The three of us.’ She said confidently. ‘Do you need more details than that? Loki took me from be’

‘No, no. That will be all, Miss…’ One of the officers said quickly.

Chloe then had to wait there while the officers left the room to discuss it. Stones had heard and was furious.

‘There’s DNA on the prostitute!’ Stones shouted at his fellow officers and boss.

‘He has an alibi, Stones. And you know the DNA could easily have been planted, there was far too much of it and Laufeyson would have no business with a prostitute. Chloe is willing to confirm the alibi under oath if need be, and I believe her.’ His boss said.

‘You can’t be serious!’

‘Enough, Stones.’ His boss snapped, then he looked at the other officers. ‘Go and release them. Apologise for the misunderstanding. We should just hope this doesn’t back fire on us and that he doesn’t try and take this mistake further.’

Stones was furious. There was no evidence to Chloe’s alibi apart from her word, that everyone seemed to just believe.

Chloe waited patiently in reception, luckily it wasn’t long till Loki and David emerged from one of the rooms. She rushed straight over to Loki and into his arms, hugging him tightly.

‘Thank you, doll.’ He said softly, kissing the top of her head.

‘I’m so sorry again, Sir.’ An officer said, looking terrified at just being in the same presence as Loki.

‘Just don’t let it happen again, ok?’ Loki said.

‘Of course.’ The officer nodded quickly and rushed over to get the door for them.

On the way out, Stones made an appearance. He didn’t say anything because he knew his boss was watching him like a hawk. But Loki looked over at him and winked, with the biggest grin on his face as he walked out of the station with Chloe under his arm.

The journey home was quiet, it was starting to sink in just what Chloe had done. She had outright lied to the police. Broke the law. For Loki…

When they got home, the adrenaline of it all suddenly dropped and the reality of the situation hit Chloe like a ton of bricks. She started shaking and crying.

Loki put his arms around her and pulled her into him. ‘Hey, hey. It’s ok, shhh, shhh.’

‘I… I lied… To the police.’ She sobbed, not sure what to do or what to even think of herself.

Loki leaned back and cupped her face, he had her look up at him as he leaned down slightly more to her level. ‘Listen to me, doll. You did what you had to. And I am SO proud of you. You were so brave for me. I know it must have been difficult, but it was the right thing to do.’ Loki said softly.

‘You… You didn’t do it anyway… did you?’ Her stomach was in knots when she asked the question, but she had to know. Even though she was pretty certain he didn’t do it this time.

‘I didn’t. Neither did David. I do not kill for the sake of it, Chloe. You know this.’ He said firmly and gently wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

‘So you… You weren’t near the prostitute in the first place?’ She asked quietly.

Loki raised an eyebrow. ‘No, I was not. I do not have the need for one.’

Chloe nodded. Though she still felt weird. She had just broken the law, after all.

‘Come on.’ Loki took her hand and guided her upstairs to his room.

She thought he was going to toss her on the bed and fuck her senseless. But he surprised her a little. He took her on the bed, but instead of fucking he just pulled her onto his lap after undoing some buttons on his shirt to get comfier.

He turned the TV on and put on a film. Chloe got comfortable and snuggled up against him, relaxing more as time went on. Loki rubbed her back in circles, now and then sliding up to stroke the back of her neck that made her melt.

Once she had stopped trembling and seemed much calmer, Loki paused the film. He trailed his fingers down her cheek and hooked her chin.

‘I really am so proud of you, doll. Quick thinking and you were impeccably calm and collected at the station. I hope you know how truly thankful I am.’

She nodded slightly. ‘I just… feel a bit weird for lying like that. But that officer is trying to set you up. Isn’t he?’

Loki smoothed her hair back behind her ear. ‘He certainly seems to be trying to do so, yes.’

‘What if he does something more? If he tries to… get me back to my father?’ She asked, worried.

Loki frowned. ‘I won’t let that happen, Chloe. I promise you. You’re going nowhere.’

Chloe breathed out a little shakily, but she settled back against his chest while he stroked her hair.

‘Don’t you worry about Stones. I will sort it.’ Loki promised.

‘I’m so sorry, Kenneth. But your daughter gave Loki and David an alibi. My colleagues let them go.’ Stones said sadly over the phone, being careful to stay quiet as he was still in the station at his desk.

‘I can’t believe that she would do such a thing… He’s truly poisoned her mind. I need to do something.’ Kenneth said. Stones could hear how distraught he was.

‘Don’t worry, I’m still not giving up yet.’ Stones assured him, giving his boss an innocent smile as he walked by his desk.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #caught in his web

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carrisarune · 3 years

Text

In Your Eyes

Previous | Next

Note: I think this is the fastest I’ve written another chapter, let’s hope this train keeps on going

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst , @schnitzelbutterfingers

CHAPTER 2: FIRST DAY INTO THE FRAY (PART 2)

Despite internally screeching beyond belief, Rai’s face was completely neutral as he gazed at Ethan Ramsey at the other side of the hall. Taking a breath to calm his mind, Rai turned to Landry, “Hand me your book. If I do this right, I can get you an autograph and settle my impression with Dr. Ramsey” he said. Landry looked at him bewildered but still held out the book.

Before he could say anything else, Rai grabbed the book and marched towards Dr. Ramsey. As he neared, he could see that the doctor had stopped by an elderly patient’s room and her hollering could be heard from outside. Hearing Dr. Ramsey bantering with the patient as he urged her to take her meds, Rai had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. He then saw Dr. Ramsey head to a vending machine. Curiously though, after inserting a dollar bill, he didn’t select anything.

Rai swallowed as he approached the man and tentatively greeted, “Hi, Dr. Ramsey.” The man glanced at Rai before returning the greeting with, “...Rookie” and a short nod of acknowledgement. “Would you be open to autographing a book for a friend?” Rai blurted, mentally congratulating himself while simultaneously facepalming at the bold request. Dr. Ramsey raised a brow, “Autographs? Don’t you have work to be doing? Or at least other attendings to irritate?” he asked, clearly not amused.

Thumbing his bracelet for strength, Rai declared, “At the moment? Just you” mentally praying for mercy as he did. While Rai expected many things for Dr. Ramsey to say, he didn’t expect him to say, “I should have guessed. Well, if you have something else to say, then say it.”

Surprised for a moment, Rai ended up saying, “I wanted to apologize for this morning and say that I won’t let you down. Though, saying it out loud, it does seem rather dumb to promise but…” only to be cut off. “You’re right, it is dumb Rookie. You will let me down. What’s more, you’ll let yourself down. Over and over.” his words were calmly delivered, but they struck at Rai like a knife to the gut. Just as he was about to excuse himself, Dr. Ramsey turned to look directly at him. Frozen as their eyes met, Rai felt his breath catch as Dr. Ramsey continued, “But what matters is that you get back on your feet each and every time, and push yourself to be better.”

Rai couldn’t help but smile as he processed the words before noticing the doctor’s eyes kept flickering at the chocolate bar in the top corner of the vending machine. Deciding not to bring attention to it for now. “That sounds like something I’d have in my message keeper, though I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in that. If you’re looking for something to cheer Barbara up, I know something that could help” he babbled.

Dr. Ramsey smirked in amusement, “I doubt it. Barbara’s even more stubborn than a mule. She refused to take her pills for two days. But be my guest. It’s a hopeless endeavor” he challenged.

Scanning the vending machine, Rai perked as he spotted a pack of Chuckle Gum and selected the item. When the gaudy, multicolored pack of gum popped onto the tray, Dr. Ramsey bewilderedly asked, “What in the hell is that?” Rai picked up the pack with a grin, “You never had Chuckles Gum? They write jokes in the wrapper. Since Barbara complained about being bored, I thought these would help. Go ahead and try it, you can tell me ‘I told you so’ if it doesn’t” he offered.

With a skeptical look, Dr. Ramsey heads back to Barbara’s room with the pack… and soon returns with a perplexed look. “That got her to take her pills. I can’t believe it” he stated in surprise before turning to Rai and asking, “How’d you know it would work?” clearly curious. Rai gave a shrug, “You’d be surprised how the simplest things, even corny jokes can work wonders, especially in this place” he stated, nodding towards the room as they heard Barbara bust out in guffawing. As Dr. Ramsey nodded in acknowledgement, Rai noticed that there was still fifty cents left over from the dollar.

Making his choice, Rai got the chocolate bar. Dr. Ramsey noticed this and asked, “And who is that for” only to be responded with Rai holding out the bar to him. “I noticed you kept looking at it earlier. You know, it’s okay to treat yourself sometimes” Rai told him and as Dr. Ramsey looked at the bar, “...I’ll keep that in mind” he stated. Upon hearing that, Rai grinned before turning to make his leave. Just as he mentally decided to ask for an autograph for Landry again next time, he heard Dr. Ramsey call out, “Wait.”

Rai turns in surprise and sees Dr. Ramsey motioning to the book. He seemed skeptical as he asked, “You said you wanted an autograph for a friend? Not yourself?” the unsaid ‘Why’ hanging in the air. Lifting his left arm, he showed a leather bracelet he wore with a wiggle of his wrist. It was about an inch or two wide with a Celtic knot design on the band and a square metal piece depicting a hawk.

“I have all the important autographs I need right here” Rai stated, chuckling as he saw Dr. Ramsey’s expression of confusion. Tucking the book under his arm, Rai fiddled with the bracelet and showed that the metal piece was in fact a small compartment that held a piece of folded up paper.

Gentle as can be, Rai pulled out the paper and unfolded it before presenting it to the man. On the paper was a cluster of words and signatures in a mesh of languages. With a warm smile, Rai explained, “It’s a family token, a little something to keep messages, reminders or a general memento really.” Dr. Ramsey carefully took the paper to examine it before taking out a pen and scrawling a message. “Another reminder to have then” Dr. Ramsey stated before handing the paper back. Rai tilted his head in confusion before scrambling to hold out the book in silent request.

Dr. Ramsey gave a huff before taking the book to sign. While he did that, Rai peered at the message he had left. Seeing the words, “Don’t let me down” along with Dr. Ramsey’s signature felt like a shock to the system. Rai didn’t know why, but when he tucked away the paper into the bracelet once more, it felt as if the words were burning through the bracelet into his wrist, spreading a tingling warmth throughout his arm. Shaking his head to distract himself from the feeling, Rai nearly missed catching the book tossed to him and was surprised to hear, “Now get back to work Hayashi.” Blinking at Dr. Ramsey, Rai blurted, “You remember my name?” and Dr. Ramsey paused, “...Just paying attention” he stated before making his leave.

When he headed back to Landry and handed back the book, the other male looked shocked beyond belief. “You’re still alive!” he exclaimed before examining his book, “...And I can’t believe it! You got my copy signed! Thank you!” He then squeezed Rai in an awkward hug before releasing him. Rai waved off his thanks before he felt his pager beeping and headed off. He soon managed to head back to Annie to check on her progress. However, things went off rails as Annie suddenly seized and the machines went wild. Rai immediately cried a Code Blue as he performed C.P.R. while frantically waiting for the code team to arrive.

Out of nowhere, he heard his name being called and saw Jackie peering into the room. “Jackie! Where’s the code team?” Rai asked and felt his heart sink when Jackie informed him they were called to another room. He shook his head at that, “That’ll be too late! Help me Jackie, I’m losing her and I don’t know what’s wrong!” With Jackie’s help and explaining the patient’s situation, the two quickly found that an allergy to the antibiotics was the culprit and managed to stabilize the patient.

Just as they were settling the patient, a voice growled, “What in the hell is going on in here Rookie?” and Rai looked up to see Dr. Ramsey glaring at the doorway.

Bowing his head in apology, he explained that Annie was found allergic to the antibiotics he had prescribed. Dr. Ramsey seemed to relax at that and even advised that he be cautious as patients didn’t always know their own allergies. Rai mentally berated himself as Jackie finished stabilizing the patient and only distantly heard Dr. Ramsey commend Jackie while simultaneously showing his doubt in Rai’s abilities. Somehow, his words caused Rai’s bracelet to feel tight against his wrist as he avoided eye contact with either of them and joined in commending Jackie.

The moment she made her exit without a backwards glance, Dr. Ramsey rounded on Rai. With fire in his eyes he growled, “And you… you need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you are ready to be here” warning in his tone, he continued, “It doesn’t matter that it is your first day, or that you’re still learning. Whether this girl lives or dies is on you.” Rai murmured his acknowledgement as he tried to ignore the strange tightening of his bracelet. Just as Dr. Ramsey was raring into his lecture, he was interrupted.

It was a female intern with tanned skin and brunette hair styled into a braid. Apparently a Dr. Toussaint wanted to see Dr. Ramsey urgently. After pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling about interns under his breath, he left, but not before ordering Rai to have solved the case the next time he saw him.

The moment he left, Rai felt all tension leave him, and with a sigh, stepped out to meet the intern. “Thanks for bailing me there” he told the petite intern and she responded, “No problem! I could hear you being chewed out from down the hall and figured you might need a save.”

Rai grinned and held out his hand, “Rai Hayashi, pleasure to meet you, it was sweet but risky of you to do that” he told her. The intern gave a cheeky grin in reply and shook his hand, “It was worth it. I’m Sienna, or Dr. Trinh. Whatever floats your boat. Besides, us interns gotta stick together right?” she enthused that while the program was tough, it would help to have each other’s back. Enthusiastically agreeing to the sentiment, Rai gave her a side hug and said, “It’s great to meet a friendly face here, I thought the entire place was swarmed with sharks” giving a mock shudder.

“Ugh, sharks are the worst” Sienna agreed, “What’s a fish that kicks butt in a team? Dolphins?” she mused. Rai chuckled and informed her that dolphins were mammals but she waved it off and declared that they would be dolphins together. After agreeing to the sentiment, Rai finds himself invited to a night at a bar the interns hung out at after shift and accepted the invitation with a promise to meet at the atrium should he survive his shift.

Looking back at Annie once more and silently promising to find out what was wrong, Rai then headed off to tend to other patients. However, as his shift dragged on, Annie’s face kept popping in his head along with Dr. Ramsey's words. Combined with the fact that he kept getting lunch plus didn’t really eat much at lunch, Rai was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Not wanting to fall apart in public, Rai quickly ducked into a supply closet. He then sat cross legged on the floor of the room and began to take deep breaths.

Just as he was on the verge of meditating, he hears the door open and starts. Before he could stand up, he hears a familiar voice say, “I feel like I’m interrupting something” and looks up to see Bryce. ‘’...Just me trying to get a hold of myself” Rai admitted then stood up as Bryce closed the door. Rai soon realized that the breathing only helped a little and he was still trembling. Cursing under his breath, he squeezed his hands together to try and calm himself.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Bryce gazing at him in worry. Trying to lighten the mood, Rai weakly joked, “Funny huh? A doctor trying to treat himself from turning into a ball of feels.” It clearly didn’t work as he could hear the wobble in his voice and he felt both of his shoulders being held as Bryce firmly told him, “Hey, hey, there ain’t nothing wrong with needing to take a breather. You’re not the first stressed out doctor I found in a supply closet today.”

Rai gave a weak laugh at that, “How are you so calm? It’s only been a few hours and I’m already overwhelmed and grappling on what to do about it” he confessed. Bryce gave a hum at that, “Well, it helps that I have amazing self-assurance” he gave a mock flip of his hair, “Which you can have as an option, or… ride it out” he offered. Rai went silent at that before taking a deep breath, holding it, then slowly letting it out. “Right, it’s only the first day and we all know this isn’t the easiest job to be in, I just… gotta be easier on myself” Rai hyped himself and slowly smiled as he saw Bryce nodding in encouragement.

Bryce patted his shoulders and asked, “Feeling better?” When Rai nodded he grinned, “Good. Because I’d hate to lose you so quick.” Processing the flirt, Rai gave a snort before playfully shoving at him, “Nice try” he teased before murmuring his thanks and heading out the door.

Later, Rai had just gotten another blood sample to run more tests for Annie and was sending messages to Aurora for updates. All the while his mind kept running through different possibilities and solutions. The moment he entered another hallway and paused, he realized he had gotten lost again and groaned. As if to further mock him, his mind briefly produced the Scooby-doo chase soundtrack before he shook it off. He looked around and spotted an intern in a wheelchair heading towards him.

Recognizing him from orientation, Rai smiled and gave a wave. The intern smiles back and greets, “Hey! It’s Hurricane M.D.! You know, cause you basically blasted past everyone” making Rai laugh. “Yeah, well, I don’t think Dr. Emery wanted any more attention than necessary. You can call me Rai” he relayed, holding out a hand for a shake. The intern accepted it with a grin, “I’m Elija Greene. Nice to officially meet you,” he nodded to the sample Rai was holding, “You know where you’re heading with that sample?” he asked and Rai slumped.

He scratched his head and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have a map of the place do you? I’m completely lost” shrugging helplessly as he did. Elijah seemed relieved to hear that as he also admitted, “Sorry man, I thought I was the only one”

The two joked and bonded over being lost and being dropped into the unexpected when they met an old woman who offered to help them. After accepting her help, Rai came to learn that her name was Mrs. Martinez and that she was a long term patient of the hospital who knew everyone. Rai found her rather witty and if what she did with her gown indicated anything, had a mischievous streak.

When he went over her advice in his mind though, it felt as if a lightbulb clicked in his head. Practically slamming the button for his floor and bidding a quick goodbye to Elijah, Rai rushed his way to Annie’s. On the way, he sent a quick message to Aurora and made a request for Dr. Ramsey to be at Annie’s room. Once in Annie’s room, he decided to chat with her while waiting for Dr. Ramsey and checked on his messages. It looked like Aurora hadn’t seen the message yet and had something going on.

Rai had just tucked away his phone when Dr. Ramsey made his entrance. Knowing he could no longer wait for Aurora, presented his findings to the attending. After reassuring Annie with her treatment, Rai stepped out with Dr. Ramsey to discuss the prescriptions. The moment he revealed that he had already printed out the prescription on the case Rai failed, Rai felt his mind immediately war between rationality and cold fury. Folding an arm behind his back to dig his nails into his palm, Rai mentally grit his teeth and took a breath.

Unknowingly, Rai’s eyes took on a hard edge as he formally stated, “I thank you for the learning experience Dr. Ramsey, but I have no need for opportunities over the need to see my patient better” digging his nails harder in order not to glare, he continued, “If you have a solution next time, I would be open to you sending it in first and confirming my findings, please.”

For a moment, a flash of surprise crossed Dr. Ramsey’s eyes and he was silent. Then, he nodded, “Understood” he acknowledged, “But know this, you showed potential. Not to mention, maybe the most important trait a doctor can have.” Rai blinked and tilted his head in clear inquiry. Dr. Ramsey elaborated, “You listened. You took the time to get to know your patient. Their story, their hopes, their fears… Sometimes, those are the keys to saving one’s life.” and Rai felt all tension leave at that. Hearing those words, Rai could feel his wrist turn warm.

The moment he unclenched his hand behind his back, he saw Aurora rush in, clearly having run from somewhere. Quickly stepping in front of her he cried, “Dr. Emery! I hope you’re alright. I’m sure you were discussing an important case and must have missed my messages” he gave an amicable grin, “I’ll make sure to send a copy of all my findings and hope we can review them together next time. I’m sure you got plenty on your plate so I’ll go ahead and submit this prescription to be processed, good evening Dr. Ramsey” he nodded to the man before making his leave. All the while his mind chanted in a sing song tone, “(Deflect, deflect, deflect! Deflect like you life depends on it~)

“Man, I need a drink” he muttered as he walked through the halls and prayed he didn’t get lost.

#open heart #oh fic #m!mc #m!mc x ethan ramsey #carrisa writes #in your eyes

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Caught in his web, Chapter 36

TITLE: Caught in his web CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 36 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is a crime lord, a very dangerous man in the city. He is owed money, but the man is unable to pay Loki back, so Loki takes his daughter as payment instead. RATING: M