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@likewaking-blog
Memento (2000) was written and directed by Christopher Nolan.
Memento (2000)
I can't remember to forget you.
- Leonard Shelby, Memento 2000
Mick Harvey - Out Of Time Man
Got memes in the askbox that I hope to attend to tomorrow or the day after that. I'M SORRY I'M NOT IGNORING YOU GUYS I'm just busy
This is exactly what she was waiting for. ANGER. You could tell how trained the woman was, as she sat there straight, silently holding up her look, not reacting to any of his words, nor his raised tone. It’s the behavior she had expected; a common after all. She’d let him talk, until he was done, until the wave of anger had faded away.
“We considered e v e r y t h i n g and we care for every single hint.” JJ replied after Leonard had finished and took the file back on her lap. “Indeed, YES.” Her face has been hard, but it softened, as the seconds passed away. She was the only who believed in his innocence, who believed in his theory.
“The FBI will get to you soon.” An information the agent clearly wasn’t allowed to give out, however did anyway. “We couldn’t find another DNA, not even a part of it.” JJ explained and moved closer again, directing her eyes in his face. “What are they supposed to do? You’re the one on their list.”
”Wh ---- I’m sorry. Am I the one with brain damage, or are you?”
”The man who raped and murdered my wife was found dead on the floor of our bathroom, where I left him, with my bullet in his head and his DNA inside my WIFE. Where the fuck in this scenario am I a suspect?”
Bullshit. He was calling bullshit. He was never a suspect and there was no reason for him to be, because he didn’t fucking DO IT. It was the exact same reason why no one ever believed there was a second man – because everything was as it should be. One attacker, dead, killed by Leonard in self defense – Catherine dead by his hands. The getaway vehicle was still parked outside their home – no evidence that there was ever a second man present.
But that didn’t fucking make Leonard a suspect. The two were leaps and bounds from one another.
susan makes no move to tear herself away from the bed as she half-watches him dress. instead, she gives herself a moment to wonder why he’s BOTHERING to explain himself when she’s given no indication that she’s upset.
it’s different of him, she supposes; most men don’t bother. but she’s not interested in a RELATIONSHIP either; not after how the last one turned out, and the one before that, and the one before that; she’s not BUILT for a happy relationship.
scratch that —- she’s not built for H A P P I N E S S.
so if he stays or goes, she doesn’t care. if he comes back, she doesn’t care. and she does her best not to look amused when he calls her ‘ GREAT ‘. oh, if only he knew.
❛ you know, ❜ the brit muses, ❛ i was friends, once, with a man named tony with whom i’d shared some…traumatic experiences during the war. we were traveling together years later when all of a sudden he just…dropped D E A D in a hotel lobby —– ❜
she nurses her cigarette,
❛ and in an attempt to spare his wife some of the details of our relationship, i posed as her when i approached the embassy —- and i think that would have hurt her far more than any bed we might have shared —- claiming some intimate CONNECTION to her life, her children, her husband. ❜ she exhaled more smoke.
❛ sometimes physical encounters ARE the innocent ones. ❜
It was all about bullshit. All about faking that look of recognition when he met someone he was supposed to remember; all about acting like he knew what was happening at any given moment; all about pretending that he didn’t have brain damage and didn’t forget everything that had just happened every five minutes.
Why did he go home with her to begin with? Her home, not his. He didn’t know where he lived now or where he was – but this looked like a home, and it wasn’t his. Ask? Risky. It could offend her and, more importantly – it would expose his condition.
don’t trust. HIDE YOUR WEAKNESS.
He stepped over to the chair where his shirt and jacket hung and ran a quick search of the pockets. A pen. Some notes. A small collection of Polaroids. He flipped through them quickly as he listened to her talk; no picture of hers.
People don’t just drop dead. No, he wouldn’t tell her that – it was wrong in too many ways. There was nothing innocent about anything; nothing innocent about what she had just told him. It was a horrible thing to do.
God knew he’d be flipping his shit if anyone ever did that to him.
”Yeah.” A general statement, dismissive, just so she’d know he was listening. Maybe that’d get her to shut up.
Okay. Leaving. He had to make sure he was N E V E R coming back.
Shirt hanging open from his shoulders, he picked up the Polaroid camera that hung along with his jacket and held it up for her to see.
“You mind?”
”It’s just… a thing I do.”
replace one word of your url with bitch.
“There’s a few things that I could do about it. ” Don’t mistake him for some animal who would cause a bar fight over something as little as a stolen seat, he’s only planning on staying put and pouting about it a little longer. Maybe say a few tough things, cast a few dirty looks. But he can’t afford to get into any trouble when he’s not working—his FBI boys couldn’t and wouldn’t do a thing about it if he got himself locked up on his own time.
The anger turned out to be short-lived and Pawel grew quiet as he stopped fussing over the seat. He signaled to the bartender and ordered himself a beer. As his hand curled around the glass he couldn’t help but long for stadium seats at PNC Park where the beer’s served in platic cups for twice the price. He took a long sip and barely tasted it. “You know, this stuff tastes better at baseball games.”
”Never was a fan.”
What did he use to do on his spare time? Hard to think about it, now. No particular hobbies. He remembered he used to smoke occasionally and doubted that he remembered to ever do that now. All he could remember was work remember Sammy Jankis. How sad – that his life should be more interesting simply because he couldn’t remember how boring they were now.
”It’s probably more the memory of it than the actual taste anyway, right?”
Taste was nearly the least reliable sense, right before touch. Smell was the strongest and most reliable when it came to triggering memory. Oh, he was just packed with fun little anecdotes; but knew better than to say them aloud.
Torture my character sentence meme
Make them cry
“I never loved you.”
“You’re the reason they’re dead!”
“It’s all your fault!”
“Who could ever love you…?”
“You’re so stupid. So weak.”
“Just go away. I don’t want you here.”
Blackmail them
“Who would’ve thought a sweet thing like you would have such a secret?”
“I’ll tell everyone. Scream so loud the country will hear.”
“I have a friend with a radio station, you know. Broadcast it all over the city.”
“If you want this back, you’ll do whatever I say!”
“Be a good little slave, you don’t want your secret out, do you?”
“I know everything. I can ruin you.”
“Beg me, and I might consider keeping my mouth shut.”
Interrogate them
“Sing, birdie.”
“I know exactly how to make you talk.”
“You know some fascinating things, don’t you?”
“I’ll use your greatest weaknesses against you, and you know I know them all.”
“I have means of extracting information from you.”
“I might play with you a little longer after you’ve talked. You’re too cute.”
“You’re tough. But I’ll break you.”
Yell at them
“You idiot! You dumbass! You- you fucking moron!”
“You’re absolutely useless, aren’t you?!”
“What the fuck have you done this time!”
“You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”
“You’re not human! You’re a monster!”
“You’re a disgusting little rat!”
“You’ve fucked up for the last time!”
Physically hurt them
“What, can’t take a punch?”
“I’ll kill you!”
“It’s only a scratch, asshole!”
“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot you!”
“I’ll slit your damn throat!”
“Kiss my shoes or I’ll stomp your head in half.”
“I didn’t mean to draw blood, but oh well.”
“That’s going to bruise.”
Torture them… gently
“You want some of this cake? C’moooon, beg for it!”
“Guess what? SURPRISE ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE!”
“Tickle-tickle-tickle! Kitchy kitchy koo!”
“Whaaaat? Is this yours? You can’t have it back, it’s mine now!”
“I’ll stop singing when hell freezes over!”
“Get in the locker, shorty!”
“Annoying? Me? Annoying?”
Put one of these in my askbox to see how my Muse reacts.
"My parents know."
"Don’t go."
"You’re under arrest."
"Just let me die."
"I’m pregnant and it’s yours."
"Make me."
"Kiss me you idiot."
"I didn’t do it."
"That isn’t mine."
"Marry me?"
"Truth hurts, don’t it?"
"Be mine."
"You owe me."
"Just relax."
"I already regret this."
"Where are my clothes?"
"You could have killed someone!"
"I think I broke it."
"Do you love me?"
"We need to talk."
"Never again."
"Do I know you?"
"How drunk are you right now?"
"Well that was unexpected."
"Have you ever even done this before?"
"I just want to cuddle."
"I can’t even look at you."
"What happened to you?"
"Don’t you dare."
"I missed you."
"This stays between us."
"I need a hug."
"I could kill you!"
"Kiss me."
"You’re so weird."
"Why are you wearing that?"
"You coward."
"You’re all out of ____."
"You. Come. Snuggle. NOW!"
"I think I’m forgetting something."
"This seems familiar."
"You lied to me!"
"Are you threatening me?"
"Is that my shirt?"
"Where did you find this?"
"Explain yourself."
"Where were you?"
"You drive me crazy!"
"I think I’m falling in love with you. "
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Just leave me alone."
"I need a drink."
"What were you thinking?"
"I dare you." or "I dare you to _____."
"I’m going to be sick."
"For you, I would _____"
"Just what did we do last night?"
"Give it back."
"I have to go."
"Shut up and listen."
"Do you remember this?"
"Want to hear a secret?"
"Take responsibility."
"Don’t look at me like that."
"Give me another chance."
"Don’t you dare come near me!"
"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"
"You mean everything to me."
"Why yes, I am as think as you drunk I am."
"What are you afraid of?"
"I miss you so very much."
"No, that can’t be my baby."
"Just five more minutes."
"No! You can’t die on me now!"
"That’s the cheesiest pickup line I’ve ever heard."
"Put. The. Weapon. Down."
"What are we doing here?"
"Do you trust me?"
"That sounds painful."
"Are you even listening to yourself?"
"I’m not speaking to you anymore."
"I can’t believe you missed that."
"That was a bad plan."
"That looked easier on TV."
"I’ve never heard that one before."
"I didn’t know you could do that."
Reblog if you are into Novella or Multi-Para rping
Most of my posts end up this way tbh x:
Okay, so where am I?
It's late - it was dark and he felt tired, so it had to be late. He had just stepped out of a diner; by the amount of parked vehicles in the parking lot, it had to be late.
Okay, so what am I doing?
EAT, read an upside-down tattoo on his lower abdomen. Not that he could remember - just as he couldn't remember to eat. He needed reminding more often than not. Even if he did realize at some point that he was hungry, he'd forget where he was driving by the time he'd be out searching for someplace open, like this dump.
His car. His car. What did his car look like? Did he still drive the same car?
Pockets. Let's see, then. A pen in one. A bunch of scribbled notes in the other. Polaroid pictures in the third -- oh, that's right. He owned a Polaroid camera -- the strap was digging into his shoulder. He adjusted it before flipping through the photographs.
Natalie. Teddy. My car.
Huh. A Jag. Nice. How the fuck could he afford a Jag?
Okay. So where was he going?
Flip through another picture. The Discount Inn. Right. Makes sense. Shit, what city was this even?
"Excuse me? -- Sorry."
"If you could just tell me where I am? Or direct me to the uh... Discount Inn?"
Movie Poster of the Day
Memento, design by Rachel Pierce
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