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d2kvirus · 4 years ago

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Dickheads of the Month: September 2020

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of September 2020 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Remember how proven liar Boris Johnson said he had a world-beating oven-ready Britait deal, which was also the basis of his election slogan campaign of “Get Britait done” and the lack of support for the deal is the reason he sacked 21 of his own MPs? Just asking, because he tore the whole thing up and said it was unworkable - which also led to Brandon Lewis saying in Parliament, so it is now forever enshrined in the Hansard, that De Pfeffel merely broke international law “in a very specific and limited way” - you know, sort of like how the Manson Family broke the law in a very specific and limited way

The bold vision of a new BBC shared by Tim Davie was revealed when he threatened comedy shows with the axe if they kept making jokes about Britait, the Tory Party or Donald Trump on his first day on the job, because as we all know the best form of comedy comes from punching down rather than up, which is why Little Britain definitely hasn’t aged appallingly

Master of decorum Donald Trump couldn’t even wait a few short hours after Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death before he started rallying the foot soldiers about cramming somebody more fitting with what he wanted into the Supreme Court

Mayor of Amity Island governor of Florida Ron DeSantis continued his bid to be recognised for having the worst response to the Covid pandemic in the congress of having the worst possible response to the Covid pandemic by deciding that, actually, the state of Florida needs to lessen its Covid restrictions at a time when cases of Covid have begun to rise alarmingly in the state

It’s no surprise that proven liar Boris Johnson lied in Parliament by referring to Serco’s failing test & trace app as “NHS Test & Trace” - however the biggest issue is that the BBC had been using the exact same phrase for at least two weeks before that

Nobody was surprised to hear smirking cretin Priti Patel personally using the term “activist lawyers” that the Home Office (headed by P. Patel) had previously used to dehumanise and demean people upholding those pesky immigration laws that the Tory Party really don’t like getting in the way

Tax dodging orange goblin Donald Trump was asked a simple question: Do you think that white supremacists are a problem? We are still waiting for an answer to that question...

Okay, so now the Conservative Party are cracking down on people breaking lockdown, with threats of a £10,000 fine - rather than circling the wagons around them and throwing out one cock and bull excuse after another like they did when Dominic Cummings broke lockdown to nip off to Durham after testing positive for Covid on what just so happened to be his wife’s birthday

You know that Matt Hancock is good at his job when, having been sent out in front of the cameras to defend The Tory Party appointing ex-Australian PM and all-around arsehole Tony Abbott as a trade advisor in spite his history of misogynistic, homophobic and “Let’s kill the elderly so we can survive Covid” comments the best he could do was say he was a good negotiator...which promptly led to all manner of comments about Harold Shipman being a good GP and Fred West laying one hell of a patio

According to Jacob Rees Mogg the public having a legitimate complaint about it being damn near impossible to have a Covid test is nothing more than “endless carping” and not, say, legitimate criticism of a woefully underprepared government trying to coast by on the bare minimum who have the gall to try and blame the public for their long list of catestrophic fuckups

It was no surprise to hear proven liar Boris Johnson hand-wringing about “the freedom of the press” after Extinction Rebellion finally realised that being annoying idiots is far more likely to gain support if you’re being annoying idiots with a purpose - just as it was no surprise to hear that proven liar Boris Johnson had no opinion whatsoever of Tim Davie telling BBC newsreaders to fall in line with the corporation (read: Tory) line or they’d be sacked

Once again there was a chance for Keir Starmer to show that his talk of being “true Opposition” is more than a soundbite and, once again, he wimped out on it when ordering Labour MPs to abstain from voting on the Overseas Operations (Service Personnel and Veterans) Bill for fear of being accused of being “anti-British” by voting for a bill created to stop prosecution of British troops for using torture instead of voting against it - and then sacking Nadia Whittome, Beth Winter, and Olivia Blake from their junior ministerial positions when they were three of the 18 Labour MPs who voted against it

It clearly never occurred to Marsha Blackburn when she was browbeating people about the Constitution of the US never being rewritten that the Constitution of the US has been rewritten several times already. There’s a reason they’re called “Amendments�� and not “Footnotes” you know...

Smirking cretin Priti Patel proudly stated that, if she saw her neighbours, she’d gladly call the police due to them breaking the law. This was around 14 hours after she’d voted to break international law in the Commons, or a few short years after she broke ministerial code by nipping over to Israel to have undisclosed meetings with israeli officials, which begs the question about whether her neighbours are just as willing, doesn’t it?

Judging by Alan Sugar tweeting out conspiracy theories about Covid being created in a Wuhan lab, I think it's safe to say that no Apprentice game show host is capable of not acting like a complete arse on Twitter. Luckily for the UK, Sugar isn’t Prime Minister - he’s merely a member of the House of Lords...

It’s been a while since WWE acted like totalitarian dicks to the wrestlers employed independently contracted to them but they managed to find one by telling every single one of their employees independent contractors that they could no longer use Twitch or Cameo as it was decided this was being “detrimental” to the company...you know, the bunch of carnies who sign billion dollar deals with our journalist-murdering, woman-oppressing, Yemeni-slaughtering, 9/11-planning “allies” Saudi Arabia, don’t have any for of healthcare for their employees independent contractors, continued a pay per view even though one of their employees independent contractors died due to a stunt going wrong that was linked to the company cheaping out on a safety harness, and apparently not knowing that the term “independent contractor” doesn’t mean the company can sign them to five year deals but sack them at any point - and then prevent them from working anywhere else for 90 days

We had confirmation of Alison Pearson possessing a terrifying combination of pig ignorance and outright sociopathy when she began a Telegraph article with the following: “My son has Covid-19. Good.”

Sour grapes from Lisa Nandy over people forgetting she was in the Labour leadership race judging by how she apparently didn’t listen to a party pledge to tax corporations and instead spout off a bunch of nonsensical gibberish that sounded uncannily like Britain First rhetoric under the belief that sounding like Britain First is guaranteed to win back working class Northern voters

Litigious TERF JK Rowling revealed her latest book is about a man who murders people while dressed as a woman, which definitely hasn’t drawn any form of comment whatsoever...

You would like to believe that reports of Limestone Games not only effectively stealing the game Aeon Must Die! from the actual dev team who were forced out of the company by a culture of abuse and harassment by a shady cabal who took over the studio would have eld to the game’s release being postponed, especially after it emerged that assets used in the game’s trailer were infringing on various copyrights - but instead Focus Home Entertainment responded by twiddling their thumbs and doing nothing

I’m sure there’s no connection between Alan Sugar demanding people go back to work as if the number of Covid cases has been rising to an alarming degree and how Alan Sugar is bemoaning that his commercial property portfolio is not making him “enough” money due to people staying at home. None whatsoever...

The fact that those moron parents in California started a wildfire after setting off fireworks for their baby’s gender reveal party that led to over 20,000 people having to evacuate their homes is dickheaded enough - but the fact that it’s not the first case of this happening, as a similar incident happened in Arizona back in 2018, makes them look even more dickheaded

If you want to say you put Britain before anything else, like Andrea Jenkyns did in her latest Twitter tsunami of childishness and spite, it doesn't look good when you say you're pro-Trump before pre-De Pfeffel as it defeats your own argument almost as fast as being Andrea Jenkyns - or, you know, failing to spell the word “British” correctly when accusing people of being anti-British

It would have been wise if West Ham announced that manager David Moyes and two players had tested positive for Covid before their match with Hull - not after the match had kicked off, leading to Moyes legging it out of the stadium

Whatever it is in the mind of DeAnna Lorraine that snapped and had her babbling insane nonsense that The Masked Singer is part of a covert plot to have people wearing masks probably can’t be repaired, and appears to have also caused her to accuse anyone who thinks she does sound insane of being acolytes of George Soros

Professional victim Laurence Fox somehow believed that posting a chat log of a conversation between himself and Rebecca Front and then howling about being “cancelled” - and then a few hours later had to very publicly backtrack, no doubt because his agent had several dozen words with him

I have no idea why David Cameron convinced himself that showing himself helping out in the Chipping Norton food bank was a good idea, considering he’s the reason why food banks exist in the first place

How nice of Manchester Metropolitan University to tell the students who were confined to accomodation so unable to go out and buy food, who were paying £9000 tuition fees for face-to-face tutoring that was done via Zoom that makes such good value of the hundreds of pounds of rent they have to pay per month when they could have had those same lectures from home, that they’re not allowed to protest about this situation and had to take any signs posted on their windows critical of the government down immediately

In normal circumstances Mason Greenwood and Phil Foden sneaking girls into the England team hotel would look pretty stupid, especially in Foden’s case considering the odds of his live-in girlfriend not finding out about this are practically nil, but during a global pandemic it looked so incredibly boneheaded it’s lucky they play for the Manchester clubs otherwise the front pages would be calling them ignorant traitors or some such bullshit

Nothing sums up Premier League referees quite like them clearly not understanding the current definition of the handball rule, but rather than actually look it up they make it up as they go alone leading to more penalties being awarded for handball in the first four rounds of Premier League fixtures than in entire seasons - not helped by Premier League referees also operating VAR, where they seem to have a policy of “If you ignore my cock up, I’ll ignore yours”

And finally, inventing yet another terror atrocity, is Donald Trump and his batshit insane proclamations about cans of soup being a much bigger threat to American lives than, say, and AR-15. But then again, it’s not like his support base has a habit of throwing cans of soup at crowds of people

#dickheads of the month

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jaspitch · 4 years ago

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Five Nightguards At Freddys

Night 1- Storm's Archives

Somehow she knew she had to do it. Make it through the night running around the pizzeria, nobody with her, without any power, or a damn flashlight. Storm had never wanted to work at this shitty pizzeria. But oh no, "We gotta stay to keep Michael safe!" Since when had September ever actually cared about Mike anyways?!

So after surviving only three and a half hours on limited power because the generator wasn't worth crap, Storm found herself in complete darkness. When Freddy had started thumping his way towards the office, Storm knew she couldn't just die like this. So, what's the next best thing? Yep, running into party room four and hiding under a table. It was easy, especially considering she was a short stack, 5'4 to be exact.

However, her special uniform seemed to illuminate her. The jacket, which was oversized and a dark blue due to her ranked status by Henry (Executive manager's first aid), had kept her warm, sure. However, because of her small frame, it would hang right before her knees. Which not only meant it caught on things when she moved, but tripped her up, and the blue was somehow seeable in the pitch dark.

Longing for the original, but less warm, baby blue and gray uniform, seemed stupid. And it would be, if Freddy wasn't currently staring at her, his hand having moved the tablecloth up, and Storm trying her best to untangle the end of her jacket from some ribbons that had been swept under the table. As the brown bear reached over, Storm finally untangled the damn sweater and bolted from underneath the table, running for the entrance to the party room.

Man, weren’t Wednesdays just the best? She kept running down the hallway, hearing the metal of most likely Freddy follow her at a decently slow pace. She turned down another hallway, just to be met with a dead end: the janitor’s closet. Now sweating buckets, Storm started to frantically look around. Something caught her eye in the corner. Looking to it with her dark blue eyes, a small ray of hope blossomed in her chest. It was, by far, the most beautiful thing to be stowed upon her. A vent. A vent that could hold someone at least 6′6 with a weight of 350 lbs. Thank the Lord.

When her hand touched the metal, she drew it back. It was fucking burning hot! The heater was supposed to be off after hours! Her only guess was that Fritz left it on again. Regardless, Storm sucked in a deep breath, and then pulled on the metal, which surprisingly gave in and came off. Dropping the damned hatch, Storm jumped a bit and climbed into the large vent. At first, she felt as if she were burning alive, but that almost went away within ten seconds. Almsot as if on que, Freddy passed by, his eyes glowing a light white. They were pupil sized and had black floating around them. Since when had his eyes not been blue? That just fueled the thought of the pizzeria being haunted.

Eventually the mascot walked away, creaking and groaning as he did so. Sighing, she squinted at her black watch, which lit up with a green light when she tapped it twice. The bright light dialated her pupils and aggrivated her eyes, but she got over it. The time was 4:38. Great, it’s only been what, an hour or so? Staying in the vent wasn’t possible, along with her body heat and extra warm uniform, the heater was starting to overheat the nineteen year old. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, Storm jumped out and placed the vent hatch back on. That, of course, took a good ten minutes because the thing kept turning sideways and not sitting straight.

Finally free from her heated domain, Storm went flying towards the office to try and find the flashlight she had dropped when Freddy had entered the room. After searching for a few minutes, she found the flashlight, noticing the glass had a small crack in it. Whatever, Henry could fix that after he found her dismembered body inside one of the mascot suits. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she didn’t see sunlight. Deciding that staying in the room would be smart, Storm sat under the table, dusting a few cobwebs from her jacket as she glanced from under her hiding spot. This place was the abolute worst, especilly in the dark. Fuck, forget the creepy atmosphere when the lights were on.

With plenty of time to think, Storm started to think of the people in her life. Tall, slender, September Charles. He was the best friend a person could ask for. Despite being self-centered and a total introvert, he did anything Storm asked him to do. Play video games all day despite both of them having work? Sure. Going to a party with only druggies, alchoholics, and underage kids? Yep, perfect. Aside from that, he was especially handsome. That thought made a light blush dust Storm’s cheeks. September had somewhat messy, yet silky, shoulder length ginger-brown hair and stunning bright orangish-brownish eyes. He had thin-framed green glasses that sat beautifully on his lightly tanned face. Everything about him was amazing.

Who else was there to think about? Mike, alright, her mind flew to Mike. He was her other best friend, who by the way, was in some sort of rivalry with September. Beautiful black hair that was shoulder length, matching his bright blue eyes. He was more of an outrovert, but still kept to himself because of how judgemental people were. Storm remembered the first time she saw him at college- struggling with a math course in the multipurpose room. She had been reading a baking guide for lullaberry pie when she had noticed the taller male run a hand through his silky black hair in frustration. Scooting closer, she noted the advanced algebra course he was taking. Which happened to be the same one she had taken last year. “Hey, need some help?” Storm finally asked, making the blue-eyed male look up. “What?”

“Do you need some help? I’d be happy to, that math course is a bit difficult, huh?” Although Mike had been hesitant at first, he eventually got used to her helping him every Monday and Friday. So when she had graduated after taking a one year Doctorate course, Mike had been left alone. That is, until he got her number and address and started doing zoom calls. Of course they sometimes showed up at each others places. Storm had been laughing her ass off when Mike stepped into her large house, his eyes had widened and jaw dropped. Due to her mother being insanely wealthy (and also gone all the time after divorcing Storm’s dad), she had left all of her assets to her after dying.

It was almost as funny when September and Mike had met. While chilling at a caffe, Mike walked in, catching the eyes of Storm. September noticed this and raised an eyebrow, asking in his deep, monotone voice, “You know this guy?” She nodded and got up, skipping over to him. After inviting him to her table and paying for his carmel macchiato (He complained about her paying but she didn’t care), they both sat down. A flash of recognition crossed both men’s faces before they both gave eachother a glare. She found out that day that September had been one of the people who had completely ignored Mike all while making him look bad. They had both been in the library when they met, standing in line to check out science books. When somebody who had been goofing around behind Mike pushed him, he knocked into the brunette (who was part of the ‘popular clique’) and pushed the books out of his hands.

Turning around with a fierce glare, September recognised Mike from his science and law classes, then picked up his books, looked back to the black haired male and said, “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, Retard? I don’t want to contract your disease. “ After that, whenever Mike tried to say anything, even ‘sorry’, September would only say one word. “Disease.” That eventually went away when they were forced to get along. Didn’t mean when she wasn’t around that they wouldn’t be at eachothers’ throats.

A creak forced Storm from her thoughts, making her look up. Two orange three-toed feet were walking past, the weird ‘ahHaRgHhA’ sound coming from withing the chiken’s beak. She no doubtly had her head to the side, twitching and spazzing out. Just as she thought her luck could get no worse, the bell rang and the lights flickered on. Storm, now sick and tired of this shit, scrambled from her hiding place, flipped off Chica, and ran towards the doors. William with his beautiful red bow that held his equally gorgeous purple hair was just unlcking the door as Storm rushed by. “Fucking fix this,” is all she said before handing the flashlight over.

After a one hour drive to her property in a brand new red comaro (Yeah, she’s rich and is only working for fun, duh. Jk, she’s just working there until Mike quits, which means she and September can quit, and then move onto software design.), the small female ran into her house, changed into some comfy sweats and a t-shirt, then fell into her silky soft bedsheets. As soon as her head hit the pillows, she fell asleep, snuggly and warm.

Storm’s Archive ends here.

#FNAF Archives1

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crisp-ofhurricane · 7 years ago

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The Extra in Ordinary Spielberg

“Was this movie made by [Steven] Spielberg?” asked my dad, out of the blue.

That night on last October was the hundreds of times he and i were having Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix moment on TV. But it was the first time ever i heard the bizarre question from him.

“No, it wasn’t,” i replied. “Dad, but you know Harry Potter is made by JK Rowling, right? Those novels you always bought for me.”

He responded, “well, yes.. but Spielberg always creates something unusual. Something imaginative. Yang aneh-aneh gitu lah.”

I smiled.

***

Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, December 18 1946, who would’ve thought this marvelous director was struggling with bullies when he was a kid and received frantic looks by people because he’s a jew.

“I’m just a lonely guy,” told him, referring to his youth phase where he also found himself hard to accept parents’ divorce.

Young Spielberg was not extraordinary yet, even his sister, Sue, stated that he didn’t like school. We all can say he was like those kids who came to the thoughts that academic shit was not their thing. He often got C and bullied a lot, Sue said.

Despite that, young Spielberg always wanted to do amazing stuff. His biggest passion was making movies.

Being in film industry evidently doesn’t always require you to have an official degree from certain (and prestigious) universities, but sometimes it could add up their persona. For example, you’d be gauging directors’ credibility more if they went to cool film schools — Martin Scorsese and Ang Lee studied at NYU, Francis Ford Coppola at UCLA, George Lucas at USC, and Kathryn Bigelow at Columbia. But it did not occur to Spielberg.

He dreamt of going to USC or UCLA, although he often admitted he was not infatuated with college. As he and his family ‘predicted’, he couldn’t go because of his grades. Luckily, his spirit already found its place: behind the lense.

He got to experiment with his very own precious weapon, 8mm Kodak movie from his dad when he was 12 or 13. Since then, he began to shoot scenes. One of his first films called Firelight which needed a quite long time to edit. It contained UFO which made it a sci-fi genre but he never said he liked it. According to his biography written by fellow Richard Schickel titled Spielberg: The Retrospective, he arranged Firelight’s premiere at a local theater complete with limousines. This kid was something. Considering his young age with inexperience of writing-directing, his effort was not bad at all. He was around 17 years old at that time.

“I tried very hard to get into USC Film School, but I didn’t have good enough grades to get in. I got turned down after having interview in person,” he added. “So, my film school was Universal.”

Mischievous at its gold

Spielberg revealed about a ‘mischief’ he did before he even entered adulthood stage. A kind of mischief you probably believe only could happen in a movie plot. Quite honest with you, it is one my favorite trivia about him.

It was the day when Spielberg spending his summer holiday in Canoga Park and decided to take Universal Studios tour. The tour was made by buses and in the middle of the day there was a bathroom-break. Some kids went to the loo, including him. What made him an extra-ordinary than the rest of visitors was, he was hiding in the stall, waiting for them to depart so he could roam and wander the studio alone.

“[After wandering the studios] I didn’t know how to get home. I spent the afternoon walking in and out of various rooms such as sound stages, cutting room. I actually had an amazing time. I thought it was the time to make a phone call. But then I bumped into a man named Chuck Silvers,” explained him.

In Schickel’s book, Silvers was mentioned as the head of the film library. When Spielberg explained how he got into the studios and wandered around, Silvers laughed appreciatively at it. His part did not stop there. Silvers obligingly wrote him a three-day pass. As you can anticipate it, the young soon to-be filmmaker used it well.

As I read from several sources, it has been said that Spielberg admitted when the three-day pass was expired, he found himself can’t stop sneaking around the studios. He learnt so much about editing process, sound mixing, cinematography, lighting, et cetera. Until one day he encountered Hitchcock’s set, Phantom of The Opera. I laughed a lot when he said that he got kicked off by one of the assistant director hahaha.

During his wandering-and-learning time in Universal lot until people just assumed he was one of the studio’s workers, Spielberg met chief editor Richard Belding and being asked if he wanted to make himself useful – as in being an intern if we could say so. Of course he answered yes. From then, he developed an amiable affection for Universal. It also made him willing to pursue his dream to become a director. My lord, how I admire his gold determination…

Joan Crawford and early lifework

Spielberg’s adventure began here, literally inside Universal as it was his personal university. He got the chance to make a short movie called Amblin’ – yea, that famous Amblin’ that later dubbed as his production company. Not only directing, he also wrote the script. In his documentary, Spielberg (2017), he said Sid Sheinberg, President of Universal Television (at that time), had liked the movie. Can you believe it?

“I looked at this film and I was very taken with it. I had a very strong feeling that this was not your average young filmmaker,” uttered Sheinberg. He did think Spielberg had something.

After declaring his admiration for Spielberg’s mini creation, guess what, Sheinberg offered him a seven-year contract to come to Universal to direct television series. Young Spielberg was no different from us who got excited for what he could achieve. So be it, especially when he was given such a powerful promise from Sheinberg. I will support you in success, but I will also support you in failure. It became his blessing, he even mentioned it when he received his own Cecil B. DeMille award in 2009.

(Spielberg with Sheinberg in 1989)

As Spielberg enlarged his capability on-screen, TV was his first medium of professional debuts. He learned how to direct and create stories by making TV series in late 1960s. I could only imagine about his taste of series at that time and compare it to series nowadays. Was he like The Duffer Brothers who suddenly surprise people with the unexpected brilliance? I guess we could ask ‘60s generation for that LOL.

Another interesting story about him in his early stage of directing was involving the classic actress Joan Crawford. It was around 1968 when Spielberg first introduced to the crew, and Crawford herself. It was his first directorial debut ever in TV world. He was chosen to direct Night Gallery that aired on NBC in 1969. With Crawford as the leading actress, Spielberg admitted he was scared of her. I repeat, he was scared the living dead out of her.

“I was terrified. At first, she terrified me – just the idea that NBC and Universal were casting her and they were signing me,” stated him in an interview with BuzzFeed couple of years ago. “I had never directed anybody with a SAG card, so the first member of SAG I’ve ever directed is Joan Crawford.”

Spielberg was only 22 at that time and I tried so hard to absorb how psyched and insane he was. So young, felt under-qualified, and realized he needed to harness his extra talent to prove he was the right one to direct the series. And it happened, the ordinary Spielberg was kinda being underestimated by the rest of the crew. In Schickel’s book, the crew said a few times, “this kid better prove himself quickly or he’s out of here.” Such a go hard or go home moment for you as a novice, eh? Hahahahahahah gosh..

His precious moment not only ended there. At one night, Crawford wanted to be picked up at a house she was staying at. Note that she never met Spielberg, so she had no idea about him at all. Spielberg came with the associate producer John Badham, and when these two arrived and Crawford invited them in, she took a look at him.

“The first thing she said was, ‘Well, we can’t go out to dinner. Everyone will think you’re my grandson.’ Seconds later she corrected herself, ‘my son!’” told Spielberg. HAHAHAHAH this is hilarious I can’t think of anything else beside Spielberg probably only responded her with an awkward grin while scratching his black hair.

Though she sounded like joking around, they really did not go out to have dinner. She decided to have the meeting inside the house instead hahahahah. And after Spielberg and Crawford’s first encounter, they began to shoot the project. Boy did he receive glance of ‘unpleasant’ treatment from the crew, still. “Can’t you catch up a little bit?” was one of yelling-phrase thrown at him. As he got yelled at from the crew, thankfully some of them were helping him get through the ordeal, including Crawford. Spielberg claimed that she treated him like a professional. Wow that must be flattering for this whiz kid.

(Spielberg testing out some angles for Crawford)

After the release of Night Gallery, the show got good ratings. And here comes the best part yet. Spielberg added, ten years after Crawford’s death, he received such an amazing story from Lew Wasserman, Studio Executive of Universal.

“Lew and I are having lunch together at The Commissary and he said, ‘did I ever tell you my Joan Crawford story?’ And I said, ‘no! What is it?’” told Spielberg.

The 71 year-old director continued that Wasserman reminded him about his first meeting with Crawford, that night which supposed to be their first dinner out.

“I said to Lew, yeah I remember when I met her. And he added, ‘well I guess you guys left an hour later and then she called me’.”

You know what Crawford said according to Wesserman?

“How dare you treat me this way! You assign me this kid — he’s got acne, long hair, and he was wearing love beads around his neck! I’m not working with him.”

Man I laughed my ass off hearing this story. Spielberg, who was the new kid on the block, probably still in his period of time whenever he looked himself in the mirror, he grunted a little because of the acnes spread on his face. And that love beads… HAHAHAHA well it’s not his fault actually. From his defense, it was one of the iconic style item in late ‘60s!

Spielberg continued the story, “and Wasserman simply replied, ‘OK, Joan. We believe in the kid. We will find someone else to play your role.’ I just couldn’t believe it he said that.”

W o w… just wow… Sir, neither could I. Bet you close the ‘60s with a toss of cold beers surrounded by those people who always got your back.

1970s is probably well-known for his glorious time, but before all the blockbuster’s phenomena, early ‘70s was still ‘modest’. Duel and Sugarland Express are the famous ones of his directorial debut for feature films, respectively aired in 1971 and 1974.

Duel is a television movie that aired on ABC which starred Dennis Weaver. Spielberg himself admitted that he didn’t listen to an advice that suggested him to shoot inside the studio. Young Spielberg was being Spielberg, he decided to shoot on location with those real props such as trucks and cars. At least his effort to chase the tight deadline paid off. He stated that Duel had a profound influence on the film that made him a kind of superstar director, one of the main reasons is the studio decided to expand the screening in Europe and won some festival prizes.

Whereas Sugarland Express is theatrical feature starring Goldie Hawn and William Atherton. While celebrating the winning in Cannes Festival for the screenplay and listed as one of the Hollywood new wave movies, it had another meaning for him. Sugarland Express brought the connection between Spielberg and the amazing John Williams, who until now is still collaborating with him to transform movies into beautiful score. What a fate I tear up a little :’)

In addition, ‘70s wouldn’t seem perfect without talking a bit about The Movie Brats, a famous movement in Hollywood that changed the industry. Who would’ve thought young Spielberg is able to be listed one of them?

Other than him, Movie Brats in ‘70s consisted numerous of prominent directors such as Alan Pakula, David Lynch, Terrence Malick, Bruce Dern, Ron Howard, Woody Allen, John Cassavetes, Wes Craven, James Cameron. As for Coppola, Scorsese, Lucas, and Brian De Palma are “the chosen ones” who became Spielberg’s closest circle. They even consider it sort of a fraternity. Who wants to be in this gang? I know I do hahaha.

Make the impossible possible

Once upon a time, there was an Orca beaten up by a giant shark in a horrific way.. it was in summer 1975, a terror haunted people of Amity Island. Hee hee as you already know, Orca was actually a boat that carried three brave men who wanted to hunt down the ruthless shark.

Jaws was phenomenon. I know it was based on novel by Peter Benchley with same title, but I’ve never read it. Anyway, about the movie.. do you remember when Chief Brody, played by Roy Scheider, was no kidding when he said “you’re gonna need a bigger boat” after he saw his nemesis the great white shark for the first time. That line became famous ever since though. It was one of the best moments from the movie.

In preparation for making Jaws, Spielberg was like a nowadays youngster who would like to build a startup company: ambitious, stick to the plans, and have no idea how much problems will happen next. He just do it.

“The studio [Universal Pictures] had never shot a film on the ocean before. They would do it on the back lake, or a studio tank, they would make miniature boats. Everything would be easy that you would never get cold and wet,” explained Jaws’ cinematographer Bill Butler in Spielberg documentary.

He continued, “But Steven said, ‘I’m gonna shoot in the open ocean’.”

As he probably sounded full of courage and foolish at the same time, his reason was simply beyond ordinary. Spielberg wanted to make the thrill feels as authentic and real as possible. So he thought shooting the film in the back of studio lot was ridiculous.

“So to me, there was no going back. It had to be shot in the ocean,” he added.

His extra courage had to face some battle with nature, realizing the fact that he had no idea about the tides, how winds affect the water, and so on that possibly wrecked the technical shit. People, I’m sure you still remember that he used mechanical shark with hydraulic stuff, right?

Spielberg spilled the beans that the production process was enough nightmare for him as the director before the movie even completed. Hahaha :(

From the long overdue shooting duration, overly budget, and all the hardship he got to do in the middle of Atlantic Ocean, especially with Bruce the shark itself. Still from his documentary, Spielberg said that the first time the crew tested the shark, it sunk. He shared the similar sad story with BuzzFeed.

“100 days over schedule, all the water, it was insane. I almost got fired probably 19 times. My most troubled shoot after Jaws has been nothing. It doesn’t even compare. Jaws was nightmare because… I don’t even know who we were. We were a bunch of upstarts, a bunch of young people who thought we could take on the ocean. You can’t take on the ocean. And we thought we could do it by bringing a mechanical shark into the Atlantic Ocean and the salt water just wreaked havoc on all of the hydraulic tubes and things and the shark kept sinking,” uttered him.

Scorsese who appeared in Spielberg also shared about how people doubted his upcoming movie.

“I remember when Steven was in production on Jaws, the word around town and in LA Times was that it was folly and gonna be a disaster,” stated Scorsese.

Man… we can’t thank him enough for not quitting those crappy time back then, otherwise there’d be no terrifying horror that successfully made soooo many people get scared of going near water. The world had discovered much that Jaws broke box office and became the famous blockbuster in the era.

I watched Jaws when I was in elementary school probably in early 2000 and I was terrified as heck. That scene when Quint character being attacked by the shark will forever be attached in my memory because… such a vividly horror for a kid like me. And when I rewatch it, I love the idea that the scene lacking of backsound which made it even scarier and genuine. And… the tone of the cinematography in it was raw, grey-ish and whenever there’s a red, that’s gotta be blood. Hahahaha, what a genius. Oh and the film score by Williams… you felt it by your own.

His effort and determination was all worth it, the movie sold 25 million tickets in 38 days according to The Movie Book, Big Ideas Simply Explained. “The success of Jaws changed my life,” claimed him.

We all know that Jaws eventually became the highest-grossing worldwide film of all time, until Star Wars came along two years later.

This was Spielberg’s letter to Lucas when Star Wars ousted it. Neat, huh?

His next remarkable adventure was involving an alien creature that stranded on Earth who then befriends with a boy named Elliot and his siblings. The alien which being named as E.T. from extraterrestrial later sent to his home land in outer space. Spielberg once again depending on physical effect to make an alien felt so real by using robotic puppet and special costumes. As a kid, E.T. kinda freaks me out, but then it shaped my perspective about the appearance of aliens. I mean, Spielberg nailed it when it comes to the intention that E.T. was made for family movie-time in the living room with big bowl of popcorn.

With the touch of fantasy, E.T. somewhat became one of his memorable creations that made history of cinema with some of the iconic shots, and the score. That halloween scene when E.T. gotta be hidden under ghost costume, riding bikes while flying in the sky which now becomes an icon of Amblin studio, and the ending scene… Boy it still gives me goosebump every single time. Elliot’s sad expression face and the tears, long and close shots in the face, and William’s perfect score.. such a magical, heartbreaking sci-fi in my childhood.

In Schickel’s book, it stated that Spielberg thought the root idea for E.T. lies buried in his childhood, when he was a little kid, feeling somewhat lost, alienated, and being this Jewish kid always in all-gentile neighborhoods. Although he was brave enough to ‘disguise’ his personal life in such family-friendly piece, E.T. for me overall, is capable to stimulate kids’ imaginations to the groundbreaking ideas, just like what he did to the movie.

Another impossible Spielberg crafted that was based on a novel is my favorite one, Jurassic Park. Again, I’m not going to talk about Michael Crichton’s book. Well, Jurassic Park is… as timeless and classic as Jaws. In his biography by Schickel, Spielberg even said that he was trying to do a ‘good sequel’ to Jaws, on land. That was a crazy thing to say, which led him into a new level of brilliance.

Aside those controversy of science theory, Jurassic Park did change the game of how cinema worked. With those animatronic dinosaurs, the sound effects, and such new bar of CGI, Spielberg was successfully hard to beat.

He admitted he had wanted to make a dinosaur movie since he was a child. I assumed since it was his long-time dream, so he thought everything had to be perfect. It was not him if the ideas was not extra-insane.

“I want eight to nine meter real dinosaurs that can interact with the characters,” revealed Spielberg.

His lifelong producer Kathleen Kennedy added, “that can run too.”

So Universal team up with Stan Winston Studios to construct the dinosaurs especially T.rex animatronics with 41 foot long and controlled by telemetry devices. If you still don’t know how they made dinosaurs’ roar, you should google it and be prepared to be in awe.

“Making a movie should make you fear, that way you push the limit. Making Jurassic Park was no guarantee to be good,” stated Spielberg.

He always speaks as a human being who happened to be a talented-mixed-with-anxiety artist, even in early ‘90s he still showed up in modesty. Well, with his sublime techniques, he enabled to wrap all the seemingly impossible —the plot, brought characters to life, the prehistoric creatures— in simple, down to earth masterpiece.

I watched it for the first time in 1999. Jurassic Park is my first Spielberg’s films, so guilty as charged if I praise this movie too often and in overly dramatic way. I always remember what my mum constantly said about him. “He was a genius.” Her reason was because of Jaws and… Jurassic Park. And thanks to her, Spielberg is the first director I’ve known in my childhood because of Jurassic Park. I don’t know why my mum introduced me to this realm of dinosaurs first, maybe it’s because she didn’t want to discourage me to swim if I watched Jaws earlier.

“It was a beginning of a whole new era,” said Lucas in Spielberg.

I can’t disagree with him. From Jurassic Park, I grew the curiosity about what paleontologists do, my craziness for anything related to dinosaurs increased, and it built my habit of over-analyzed about behind the scenes from every movie I watch until now. Ohhhhh… Jurassic Park was also the first movie that made me take film score seriously, and appreciate it. It was my first time to fall in love with John Williams himself that later I found out he made the iconic scores for Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Superman, Home Alone, and Harry Potter. Since that, I started to pay attention to composers hahahahaha.

My admiration for Spielberg actually escalated even more when I learned that he had to manage his time during the production of Jurassic Park to begin shooting Schindler’s List. Really, if I ever had a chance to meet him in person, one of top-five questions I give to him will be: HOW THE HELL YOU MANAGE ALL THAT??? THE EXHAUSTION AND THE EMOTIONS??

Both movies were released in 1993. And I’m sure it was one of his milestone of career. Two Oscars in his own hands. Just wow.

Schindler’s List is a product of life experience that Spielberg want to relate to. The setting was using Nazi occupation period in Germany, focusing on ‘heroic’ act of Oskar Schindler that saved 1.100 jews from slavery and genocide in Auschwitz camp.

“This is the first movie with a message I have ever attempted. It’s a very simple message — that something like this should never happen again. But it’s one that’s very close to my heart,” stated a big fan of Lawrence of Arabia.

Born in a jewish family, Spielberg found himself very hard to finish the production of the movie. He unveiled that it was simply so hard for him, especially when shooting the disturbing acts of Nazi to the jews. In Spielberg, film editor Michael Kain said that Spielberg got emotional easily which he knew it was not good at all for directing.

“Steve said, ‘I can’t do it. It’s too tough’,” Kain reminisced.

He then admitted, his wife, Kate, was the force of his life, particularly during this hard times. “She encouraged me to finish Schindler’s List. It was the most emotional film I’ve ever made,” he added.

Collaborating with Williams for the eerily, heart rending score, Williams once revealed he felt ‘unable’ to be the composer. “I talked to Steven that he needed a better composer for Schindler’s List because the movie was so beautiful. Then he sweetly said, ‘yes I know but they’re all dead’,” said Williams in the middle of his acceptance speech for AFI Life Achievement Award in 2016.

As much as I’m rooting for Jurassic Park score, I was glad that Williams received his Oscar for Schindler’s List. It was also known that Steven didn’t take the profit from the movie.

Is he overrated?

After making Jaws and realized his life changed, Spielberg was recognized to be one of prominent pioneers in movie history, particularly pop culture. Two years after Jaws released, Spielberg launched Close Encounters of The Third Kind in 1977. It was his first big-screen sci-fi that reached a decent success. This movie was the first one also, that inspired by Spielberg’s personal life and soon followed by plenty of his other creations.

In Spielberg, the director revealed that his parents’ divorce influenced so much in his movies’ plots. From Close Encounters, Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, to Catch Me If You Can, War of The Worlds, and Lincoln. These movies had family-problem inside that rooted from Spielberg’s life experience, often with father issue. Go rewatch ‘em again if you slightly forget. Whereas Saving Private Ryan was a tribute for his dad.

“My most movies all told about family, disintegrated and unification again,” stated him in Spielberg.

For me personally, some of them might work out like what happened with Frank Abagnale Jr. in Catch Me If You Can because it seemed genuine, but I gotta agree with certain critics that felt Spielberg’s family background in the movies could by syrupy. I’m not a big fan of War of The Worlds and I dislike the idea that Tom Cruise’s on-screen son was going back safely in his father’s hug. Too sentimental and kind of bit unrealistic.

After making fictional and personal stuff, Spielberg was also interested in political and historical ones. I admire how he got an inner calling to make The Color Purple and Amistad which centered black people tales of survival, Empire of The Sun that colored a different nuance from real-life event in Eastern Asia and casted the young Christian Bale. I’m sorry I didn’t really watch Indiana Jones but I believe Spielberg bonding time with Lucas was one of the best things that could happen in Hollywood.

Spielberg’s talent was undoubtedly ravishing. With his constant movie productions in such short amount range of time, people often think that he’s around so much and well, you can’t really please everyone. He knows that many people dislike his art. He often got compared to Scorsese, some of them called him greedy and only seek for blockbuster ones. He’s overrated, they said. Do you agree?

To answer my own question, I don’t. I myself don’t like all of his movies but Spielberg is incomparable. He’s been making so many movies since ‘70s, some of them lacking of recognitions and failed to gain accolades. I won’t say he’s underrated either, but he proves himself since day one. Would you able to erase him from the industry? Alas, no.

Steven Spielberg is not overrated, because I don’t rate him. I learn from him. It is an old story of the world to use zero-to-hero phrase, but Spielberg unleashed technology aesthetic and character-driven theme in such a body of work.

He was once an ordinary, maybe he still is. He only needs an extra of everything to make it all beyond compare. To this day, one new word suits him: unstoppable.

Happy birthday, old man.

December 18, 2017

A personal homage in account of counting days to the release of The Post, Spielberg’s newest historical feature starring Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks. Thanks Sir, for make it happen in less than a year. I always admire journalism-theme movies and I hope this one would be in line with All the President’s Men, both in storyline and success.

#Steven Spielberg #movie #hollywood #personal

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defenderofdreamers · 8 years ago

Text

I SEE ALL OF YOU. Post -ACOWAR/Feysand Fanfic.

Hi guys! So, guess who finished ACOWAR the other day and is now emotionally destroyed?! THIS GIRL!

So, I decided to write a fanfiction to fill this empty gap in my chest, and I think I did okay?? I don’t know?! :’)

I was pretty much listening to Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine the whole time, so I would say if you like listening to music while you read, listen to that, I guess? (Specifcally the MTV Unplugged ver.)

Sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes - I finished this at 1am, and I have no idea what to do with myself now! (help me)

NOTE: The characters in this story are created and owned by Sarah. J. Maas, and her amazing book series as well! I am only borrowing her character to make up events of my own and to break hearts. (lol jks)

Feyre has a nightmare, and can’t seem to control her powers as she sleeps in Rhysand’s arms. Rhys has no choice but to enter her mind and stop her nightmares, but what lies in her fears may even scare him.

WARNING! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!

You have been warned… now ENJOY!

I SEE ALL OF YOU

By DefenderofDreamers.

Third Person, Rhysand P.O.V

It was past two o’clock in the morning, Rhysand had guessed, when he had been suddenly jolted awake. It wasn’ the nightmares of Under The Mountain, or the empty and dark feelings from being in that eternal darkness, or the bloody memories from the war that had woken him. No, it was the smell of fear filling his nose. And it was coming from his mate. Rhys’ instincts instantly made him coil his muscles, ready to defend his mate at any cost. He unfurled his wings surrounding his wife, and tried looking around the room to determine the threat. But he saw nothing - only darkness. The room was thick of it, and it made his breath hitch at the feeling. Reeling in his senses, he realised that this darkness was of magic. He could practically smell it; Fear. Grief. Anger. Emptiness.

He looked down, and could only just see Feyre’s honey-colored hair and some parts of her face. In his arms, she was clammy and cold and her muscles were twitching, as if she wanted to move but something was restricting her – no, as if she was restricting herself. Her eyelashes were tickling his torso as her eyes rapidly moved and blinked under her lids. He tried to pull away from her to wake her from her nightmare, but she was holding on so tightly, her arms like iron bars around his waist - she wasn’t going to let go, not with her anxieties. He tried to get into her head, gently touching the adamant shields in her mind. But they weren’t giving – she was so strong. ‘Looks like I’m doing this the hard way,’ Rhysand thought.

“Feyre, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispered into her hair, trying to coax her out of her nightmare. His only reply was a soft whimper. He softly started to shush her, and he could feel her hot breath coming out through her gritted teeth. “Feyre, you can fight this. What’s in your head isn’t real,” he said.

‘Anymore’ he wanted to add, but he knew for the both of them, the pain would be as raw as if the events of the war were yesterday; seeing everything when she was linked up to the Cauldron took a toll on Feyre, and he knew it would take time to let it fade away into the fabrics of memories. But nothing will take away her aching anxiety and fear of seeing him die…He could feel it every time she looked at him through the bond.

It wasn’t that Rhysand was ready to die in that moment; he still had so much he wanted to experience with his mate and his family. Hell, he wanted that violet eyed baby boy to hold in his arms with his wife, and to watch it grow up and become a strong Illyrian fighter. He wanted to watch Feyre and his son smile as they all flew in the skies over Velaris. He wanted to tell him how strong and courageous his mother was, and how she became Feyre Curse-breaker, Feyre, Defender of the Rainbow and most of all – his wife, his High Lady. His mate. But what he wanted even more was to see Prythian at peace. He poured that into her, as well as the last of his magic, as he began to grow weaker and weaker. To see Feyre and his family live on, and to give that final sacrifice, Rhys would’ve been content with that.

Fortunately, things didn’t go that way, and he was still alive. There would be some days he would need to remind himself this when the darkness would sometimes become almost too real, and he would tug on the thread that he would feel in his chest. And Feyre would tug back in understanding and pull him into an embrace. Sometime they would just stand there, sometimes they would cry. Or sometimes they would find their way up into their bedroom and make love, as if the other would disappear. ‘Never again’ they would say into each other’s mouths, and they believe it to be so.

Rhysand was pulled back into the moment at hand when Feyre let out a moan. He could feel her start to shift, she was tensing and recoiling repeatedly as if the transformation was rippling through her bones. He braced her against him as if to relieve some of the pressure. Through the thick blackness, he could make out Illyrian wings growing and taking shape out of her back. Rhys looked down at her, his mouth gaping and eyes wide. Before Feyre could feel his own panic, he made himself calm – he made himself the High Lord of the Night Court who had helped the mortal Feyre in the dungeons of Under The Mountain. He made himself her husband and mate – the calm to her storm, the dark to her light.

The hands at his back began to grow cold and were soon covered in frost from what he felt. It sent chills up is spine. Then came the heat and the fire, which burned him slightly, and he hissed as her hands went back and forth between the two elements. Feyre started to scream into his chest, and it broke him. “Feyre!” he screamed. It was enough. He needed to wake her up NOW. He entered her mind again, and this time was able to find a weak spot. He pushed and pushed until he made his way through. He kept his magic at the doorway to keep it from closing on him.

He looked into her mind, and all was quiet. That was when he began to see all the dead bodies – Hybern soldiers and Prythian soldiers alike. Swords and shields everywhere, as if they were ripped out of their hands. Rhys grimaced and tried not to look at the dead out of instinct. But he couldn’t help but notice that they weren’t the usual battle wounds from blades or magic, but that of an animal – for some it was their neck exposed and bitten; for others it was claws ripping into their flesh. He followed a trail of blood, and left the battlefield behind. It was then that darkness began to envelop – no, conceal his surroundings. It was hiding something. But Rhys wasn’t fooled – he walked on until he stopped and saw a stooped, black figure. It was making animalistic noises, but beneath that, he could hear a familiar weeping sound. And Rhys soon realised.

He found her. But it wasn’t his fae mate he was seeing. It was Feyre’s true form.

She didn’t really tell Rhysand much of what she saw in the Ouroboros – only that she had accepted and forgiven and truely began to love herself for what she was. But when Rhys had asked what she had seen, Feyre had refused to say, and blocked her mind off until her wariness shifted and they changed the topic of conversation.

But now there was nothing between him and her.

He knew it was Feyre. Not just from her stormy blue-grey eyes or the way the black fur contrasted with the golden-brown– the same as Feyre’s. No, he knew it was her because he felt it in the bond, in his heart, in his soul. What instinct that should’ve been telling him to run away was telling him to run towards and embrace.

Rhys took a small step and tugged on the bond, and Feyre’s wild eyes grew wide as she saw him. ‘How?’, they seemed to say. She began to grow restless, and began twisting around trying to hide herself from him. In this, Rhys began to see the black-as-onyx scales, and the claws coming from her massive paws as she moved silently and swiftly into the darkness. She was running away from him. Rhys felt a pang of sadness in his chest that his mate didn’t trust him, but he followed her regardless.

He could feel her close by, the heat coming from the darkness in front of him in comparison to the cold. He could feel her watching him, gaging his reactions on what she could read on his face and through the bond. Rhys began sending calming and relaxing thoughts down the bond, reassuring her that he was fine with this – with her.

‘Feyre. I’m not leaving’ he said into her mind. Nothing. He put a smirk on his face ‘And even if you wanted me to, there’s no way out of this mating bond and High Lady contract.’ He was trying to joke with her, to make her feel at ease and to bring her back. He was met with silence.

“Feyre darling,” he said out loud, “it’s okay.” He walked closer and he could feel her breathing now – the rise and fall of her quickened breathing. To his right, Rhysand could hear a growl and he stopped a few mere meters away. ‘Stop’ she was saying. ‘Don’t look at me’. Rhys defiantly stood there, looking at her.

Yes, she was terrifying. He saw the teeth – the large, serrated teeth – meant to rip out throats and crunch bones. The massive paws and the long, golden claws meant to maul out insides in a single swipe. The black fur and scales to hide and prowl in the night. But he could feel her strong heart, its beating hard and erratic as if it were speaking to him – telling him every dark thought and fear and trait that she was and is and forever will be. Rhys just stood there and listened.

He looked to where he felt her watching him. Surely enough, there were her large grey-blue eyes, just staring at him; calculating; ‘Why aren’t you running away?’

Rhys looked at her, and then back at her chest at where her heart was, and slowly reached out his hand to touch it, fur and scales together creating a texture he had never felt before.

“This… I accept this,” he said, making circles with his fingers around the beating heart, and he felt the rhythm underneath begin to slow. He began to rub his hands along the fur, side to side, almost like as if it were a soft blanket or a kind beast. “I love all of this,” he says, and with a smirk, he finishes, “Who knew you were all fluffy on the inside?” Feyre huffed, a scoff as if to say, ‘Really, Rhys?’ He gave a small chuckle and walked around her to find her face. It was hard to mark, but he found her eyes. He saw her take a breath as he held out his hand and found her muzzle. He looked at her face, covered in a mix of scales and fur.

Yes, she was a wolf. Her eyes were glowing in the darkness meant for watching their prey. Her teeth didn’t allow her to fully close her mouth as they poked out through her maw, and he could imagine what she could do. And if you were to see her in the Illyrian Mountains, you would be stupid not to run. But he wasn’t scared. If anything, he felt proud. He looked deeply into her eyes once again, and she bore into his.

“I see all of you, Feyre.” He finally said. “And I love every part of it. I have nothing to be afraid of.” Feyre’s eyes were lined with silver and she closed her eyes as she leaned into his touch. “Let’s go back, Feyre. There’s nothing more to fear” Rhys said softly.

Before she could open her eyes, he was out of her mind and back in reality, now with the sun coming through the crack of the curtains. Feyre jolted awake and tensed and her wings instantly vanished. She looked at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, and let go of him hastily. She made a run to the bathroom and he heard her collapse to the floor…and begin to vomit.

Rhysand was out of bed the moment he heard her retch, not worrying that he had nothing to cover him. He walked over to her, and simply held her hair up and rubbed her back. She flinched, which made her double over and heave over the bowl again. When she was finally done, she sat there and looked at the floor. Rhys reached over and pulled the handle and flushed the toilet. He then went to pick her up, before Feyre smacked his hands away.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, sounding weak but angry. Shame filled her face, and she said “Please, don’t touch me right now.” Rhys winced, but backed away and stood there, for once not knowing what to do. She was making an effort to slow down her breathing, and he wanted to help her, but knew she was still trying to process everything. She looked at him and then to her hands, as if they were still frozen or burning.

I hurt you.

Not badly, I healed quickly.

That doesn’t matter, I hurt you.

Feyre, I’m fine. You weren’t in control.

She ran her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes, then ran her fingers through her hair. Rhys just watched her, ready to be there for his mate if need be. After what felt like an agonising 10 minutes, Feyre slowly stood herself up, her legs shaking a little, and walked back into the bedroom. He was only a few steps away as she sat on the bed, looked down at the floor, and then finally, back up to him.

“How…How were you not terrified?” she finally said, though it came out as whisper.

“Feyre darling, I’ve lived for over 500 years. You don’t think I’ve seen more horrible things?” he remarked with a smirk. Feyre only huffed, and gave a weak smile of her own. Rhysand knew she was waiting for a proper answer. “But in all honesty, I wasn’t scared. At all.”

He came over and sat on the bed next to her. He pulled her into his embrace, and began tracing circles along her shoulder. He took note of how she began doing the same, but on the tattoo on his knee of the Illyrian mountains. “I will bow before no one and nothing but my crown” he had said to her all those months ago. He tried not to be distracted by it as he said “I wasn’t scared, because I had seen it all already. I’ve seen your hatred, your anger, your lust, your grief. I had sensed it back then Under The Mountain.” – he felt her flinch – “felt it down the bond when you were in the Spring Court wasting away. Watched it as you killed the Attor in the battle of Velaris. And you became it in the war. When the Caldron took Elain away. When they killed the Suriel…

“But Feyre…” he held her face in his hands gently as he said “I felt more than that when you brought me back.” Feyre burst into tears at that, and his vision began to blur as well. He blinked back his own tears, and kissed her forehead and licked her tears away. “I felt your love, your compassion, your strength, your courage – your soul, Feyre. I felt all of it. I felt you.”

She let out a wail, and he pulled her into his chest again and let her cry. He rocked her back and forth and began to cry, too. He was sure they had both woken up the entire house by now, but he didn’t care.

It’s real?

Rhysand held Feyre tighter.

Yes. It’s real.

They both sat on the bed and wept for what was true.

When they had both stopped weeping, and all that was left was emptiness and migraines, Rhysand picked up his tired and weary mate and placed her carefully on the bed. He laid down next to her and played with her hair as she started to doze off. She nuzzled into his chest and traced the tattoos covering him.

“What about all the meetings today? What’s the city going to do without their High Lord and Lady?” Feyre asked, tiredness coating her words.

“Amren can handle it. Cassian and Nesta though…” he trailed off. “10 gold marks that she’ll kick them out of the house in an hour before they start to tick her off.” His mate gave him a lazy poke in the ribs.

“I bet 15 and half an hour” she replied sleepily. Rhys snorted then bit his lip in thought.

“And how much time and how many gold marks before we start making love?” he smirked. Feyre lifted her head and looked up with fiendish eyes.

“None,” was all she replied before she placed her smiling lips onto his own.

(And they made slow, sleepy love before Mor came knocking on their door~)

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