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#romeo + juliet#romeo and juliet#mercutio#harold perrineau#drag#angels#glamour#90s movies#90s fashion#iconic film#movie screenshots#mercutio needed a stand alone movie#cinemetography#thats god#lgbt
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Smokey brand Select: Violent Delights
I was waxing nostalgic the other day about the Nineties version of Romeo and Juliet, about how much i actually like certain aspects of that film and absolutely abhor others. It got me pondering how much i unabashedly enjoy Shakespeare and many of the big screen adaption of “his” work. These things run the gambit of genre and i think it’s a ripe subject to kind of pick from. I mean, there are just so many ways to adapt this cats catalog and i figure i might as well pick out my favorites.
10. Forbidden Planet
This movie ain’t great. It;s not. But love it anyway. I have a soft spot for those old timey, Fifties, monster flicks and Forbidden Planet is one of the best. It’s campy schlock, don’t misunderstand, but i used to watch this thing late night, right before regular TV went of air. It’s the worst, but i appreciate the fact that it’s true to its time and is one of the very, very, few adaptions of The Tempest. That play never gets the love it deserves.
9. Ophelia
Ophelia is Hamlet from the perspective of his wife, Ophelia. It’s an interesting take on the Hamlet narrative, not really one of would gravitate toward if not for this ridiculously stellar cast, particularly Daisy Ridley. She kills the role as Ophelia and kind of makes you want to see where this version of the story goes. I definitely prefer the tragedy of Hamlet over this take on the narrative, but Ophelia definitely stands on it’s own and is totally worth a watch.
8. She’s the Man
Listen, this is a guilty pleasure. She’s the Man ain’t great. It’s actually pretty terrible, but i love it for how earnest this film is in telling it’s story. An adaption of Shakespeare’s gender-swap farce, Twelfth Night, it’s one of the few, comedic, plays that got the big screen treatment and Amanda Bynes carries this whole goddamn movie as this version’s Viola. I actually miss when Bynes wasn’t crazy and just made funny, endearing, sh*t like this. I mean, who doesn’t love Big Fat Liar, you know?
7. Scotland, PA
This is probably the most creative take on a Shakespeare property i have ever seen in my entire life. This is MacBeth, told as black comedy a la Fargo, set in a 1975 Pennsylvania fast food restaurant. Yeah. I’m not even going to go any further into it. This was one of the most ridiculous viewing experiences i’ve ever had and i loved very second of it.
6. Hamlet
I feel like this is a cheat, like there would be something different here. I actually pondered the Lion King because, technically, that’s a Hamlet adaption but, the more i thought about it, the more this one had to go on the list. It’s just that good. The1996 version of Hamlet, directed, screenplay written by, and starring Kenneth Branagh, is a whole ass classic. It’s a straight forward interpretation of the original play only updated with a nineteenth century aesthetic, which fits the narrative surprisingly well. This version of Hamlet is high f*cking art, man. It’s gorgeous in every way. The score, the costumes, the sets, the colors; All of it is a legitimate feast for the eyes. That said, this motherf*cker is four hours long so, you know, understand that sh*t going in. It;s worth, don’t misunderstand, it’s just real long in the tooth, man.
5. My Own Private Idaho
Idaho is probably the bleakest film on this list. Gus Van Zant is pretty great at capturing the sordid, cruel, reality of the human experiences which makes his adaption of Shakespeare’s Henry tetralogy. I don’t much go for European history for reasons, but i dug this flick and how it kind of mutes all of the glamour and Victorian nonsense for a more guttural, street level, desperation. My Own Private Idaho is not an easy watch I t can be incredibly difficult to get through at times but that doesn’t mean it’s not a brilliant film. that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take on this challenge. The performance that River Phoenix gives, alone, is enough for admission. As dope as Joaquin is at his craft, River was definitely the superior talent and that is no more apparent than in this movie.
4. 10 Things I Hate About You
The Taming of the Shrew is actually one of my favorite Shakespeare plays and this film, 10 Things I Hate About You, is one of the best versions of that narrative. This film is f*cking hilarious. It’s outstanding and unique and never strays from the heart of it’s inspiration. Plus, i mean, it’s got a young Heath Ledger just stealing all of the scenes. When you watch him in this, you know dude has all of the talent. This film is why i was completely okay with him as Joker when they announced it. Everyone else lost their sh*t but me? I remembered Ledger’s Patrick Verona and knew the role was in good hands.
3. Throne of Blood
If i had to choose a favorite Shakespeare story, it’s definitely MacBeth. I love that sh*t. There’s intrigue, betrayal, violence, lust, and even a little magic; Everything you need to build an intriguing plot. Take the basic narrative and funnel it through a true master of film like Akira Kurosawa and you get a real classic like Throne of Blood. This is an old one, it dropped back in ‘57, but it’s worth a watch. Kurosawa was a true visionary in his craft and the way he was able to, not only adapt but elevate the source material? F*cking amazing, man. Y’all should watch more Akira Kurosawa, man. He’s one of the most influential filmmakers ever to do it and it’s for good reason. Also, f*cking more MacBeth adaptions, please? There are only, like, six. The f*ck, yo?
2. Romeo + Juliet
I’ve already spoken about my love for this decidedly Nineties take on that classic, uncomfortably problematic, laughably toxic, romance that’s just rife with all of the tragedy and tropes. Why the double-dip? Because i love it THAT much! Tybalt, Mercutio, the aesthetic, that soundtrack; F*cking chef kiss, bro! If you’ve never seen this version of Romeo and Juliet, you don't love yourself enough.
1. Ex Machina
Yeah, that’s right, this f*cking masterpiece of existential, cyberpunk dread, is based on Shakespeare, too! Motherf*ckers wouldn’t know because it’s kind of a deep cut but a lot of the themes from The Tempest, actually my second favorite Shakespeare outing, ring true to Garland’s narrative. I mean, do i really have to explain why i love this movie so much? Actually, i have. Repeatedly. My praise for this movie is rife throughout the backlog of this blog. This thing has made multiple of the Select lists because it’s so f*cking great. Obviously, it’s my favorite adaption but, more than that, like Throne of Blood, it’s just a great f*cking film by itself.
Honorable Mentions: The Lion King, Titus (1999), A Midsummer Night's Dream (1999), Men of Respect, Richard III (1995), Much Ado About Nothing (1993), Ran, MacBeth (2015), Coriolanus (2011), Get Over It
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The Devil Wears Kevlar - Part 8
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
ok technically it’s thursday my dudes but I had to flesh the chapter out a little at the last minute bc I decided you guys deserved another 300 words on this beautiful May night. and yes I KNOW calum’s head is cut off in the photo it’s VAGUELY SYMBOLIC and I didn’t feel like finding another picture also content warning for violence (again) like and subscribe!
“Aspen.” Liam says. His fingers tighten a little in her hair, trying to direct her gaze. “Aspen.”
But there’s nothing he can do. Aspen looks loosely over his shoulder, sees it on the concrete floor in front of her, laid out like a crime show murder board. The killer’s not someone in spandex with a bad temper. He’s a businessman with a drive for power and people like Liam who will make it happen for him.
Liam. How did he become this… this chimera of corporate and old fashioned violence? She meets his brown eyes. She had thought they were warm, once.
He’s still kneeling by her side, making her neck ache with the force of his grip. “Hey.” He says. He doesn’t know what to do, either. “Just - just talk to me. Who’s it gonna hurt? What time does he get to work? Hey, McMichael. It’s gonna be alright. Just -” He sighs. “I don’t want to hit you again.”
“So don’t.” Aspen surprises herself. She doesn’t know where that came from, she had been meaning to bite her tongue until they ripped it out. But when Liam met her eyes, let go and stood up, he was fucked up. She could see it. And she grabbed on to that shred of weakness. “Let’s go. Hood likes me, and if you - if you get me out of here I can get him to help you too -”
“Shut up.”
“- and we can just go, get out of Gotham and -” This time, Aspen saw Liam wind up to hit her and she squeezed her eyes shut before his open hand made contact. It was worse, knowing it was coming - even as her head snapped to the side again the image of Liam standing over her like that burned on the inside of her eyelids. “Fuck.” She groaned lowly, turning her head and rubbing her aching cheek on her shoulder.
“I’m done playing.” Liam says, pacing in front of her. Maybe he’ll get so worked up he’ll just walk out one of the open windows and fall to his death. He doesn’t, though. He grabs the back of her chair and starts dragging her backwards towards one of the gaping spaces in the walls, and then Aspen panics. She flings her weight around, grunting, trying to knock the chair out of his grip, but he just grabs on with his second hand and keeps dragging her at a forty-five across the floor. Fuck. Fuck. The sound of the metal of the chair against the concrete floor is like horror movie foley, it feels so loud. Aspen gasps for breath as Liam stops, pushing the chair so it jolts back to upright. The wind is stronger here. She can feel the ledge like the edge of a knife behind her.
Liam’s not going to kill her. Falcone knows she’s here, if she dies he’ll be mad at Liam and he’ll be in even more trouble. He’s not going to kill her. He’s not.
Liam spins her chair around easily, to make her look at him. His back is to the window, and she thinks if her ankles weren’t chained she could have kicked him just right. He could have fallen out to his death like a Disney villain. “Tell me now.” He says, clapping on his hand on her face, on the cheek still hot with pain. “Tell me everything you fucking know about Hood or I’ll drop you.”
Fear makes Aspen stupid. “You won’t.”
Liam doesn’t smile. It looks like a smile, but it’s like the blade of a scythe on his face. “No?”
He’s a big guy, but Liam moves fast when he wants to. And he wants to. He gets behind her, even while she’s thrashing against the chains, and grabs the back. She can feel the shapes of his knuckles behind her as he moves her the two feet, towards the edge - he’s not gonna kill her, he’s not he’s not he’s not - and he pushes.
Aspen screams. She can feel her body drop for an inch or two until the chains catch it - but Liam doesn’t kill her. He’s just tilted the chair so she’s dangling out the window. But there’s wind on her face, and she can see headlights tracing themselves below her on the city streets. For one terrible moment, she can see herself falling, ragdoll-like, dropping on top of one of those cars. A dent like a crater in some BMW’s roof. Liam’s talking, she realizes. He’s yelling. “Start fucking talking!”
“I don’t know!” Aspen yells, just on instinct. “I - you know when Calum gets in to work. It’s eight thirty. Liam, stop this!”
“Finally have something to say, huh?” The chair tips forwards even more. The ends of the legs slip a fraction of an inch. Aspen screams again, a strangled little whimper. She tried to remember how she was tied to the chair. How likely it was that she’d slip. “What else?”
“I don’t know!”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, I know you write it down!”
Aspen can barely hear him over the wind and blood rushing through her ears. “I can’t - just stop and I’ll tell you!”
The chair doesn’t pull back. She’s still dangling, her eyes still fixed on the headlights below. “Tell me what his lunch plans are.” Liam growls, and she swears she feels the legs of the chair slip a millimeter closer to the edge.
Bar Mercutio with the head of Hood Auto. The answer is right on her tongue. She opens her mouth -
“Liam.”
Aspen gets yanked back inside so fast it almost makes her dizzy. Her back slams against the chair but she’s thankful for the sting. She’s alive and upright and sweat is coating her like a second skin and she’s alive.
“Liam, that’s no way to treat a guest.”
Wait. She knows that voice.
She’s still catching her breath, but she hears Liam behind her, stepping away from her chair. “She’s not cooperating, Don Falcone.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place.” Aspen doesn’t dare look over her shoulder. She hears some meaty thud, knuckles on some soft body part, and she hears Liam try to swallow a groan.
If that’s how Falcone treats his fucking employees, what’s he gonna do to her?
She hears “Angelo, bring her over,” and she hates that all she can do is sit there and listen to heavy footsteps on the concrete floor before she feels knuckles on the back of the chair and she’s being dragged again. This time, she doesn’t bother to thrash and struggle. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Her body is heavy with fear.
The chair gets swung around and rattles to stillness in front of Falcone, who looks almost exactly as polished as he did in Calum’s office that morning all those weeks ago. At least he’s giving her a little respect before she dies.
Because that’s what happens next. Of course it is. She knows Liam’s working for him, knows Falcone is behind all the CEO killings - she doesn’t know why, to fill the power vacuum or something, but it doesn’t matter. Calum’s next and she knows when he’s going to be alone, or in transit, or whenever you kidnap someone, and they’re gonna hurt her until she tells them and then they’re gonna kill her.
No one even knows she’s missing, for chrissake.
“Hello again, little girl.”
Aspen bites down on the inside of her lower lip to keep herself from crying. “Don Falcone.” She says, after a long moment.
“I hear you’ve been uncooperative tonight.”
She knows it’s stupid, but in her terror she tries lying again. “I don’t know his schedule off by heart, I’m sorry.” Her voice is slick with fear, she can hear it.
Don Falcone doesn’t even raise his eyebrows. “Not very good at your job, then, are you, my dear?”
“I-I guess not.”
“Hmm.” He says, pulling a white piece of paper from his pocket. Aspen’s heart sinks as she recognizes it. It’s the schedule he stole all those weeks ago from Calum’s office, dog-eared and battered by now. He wants her to know he knows she’s lying, she can tell from the little look he gives her over the top of the page. Her chest heaves. Fuck. “You should have talked to Liam,” He says, folding the paper and putting it back into his pocket. “I might have let him keep you. Oh, we could have gone far together, Ms. McMichael.”
Aspen doesn’t say anything. She becomes aware of Liam lurking in a dimly lit patch of the room, but she can’t take her eyes of Falcone. Keep him talking, a little voice whispers. Evil monologue. If he’s talking, he can’t hurt you. “What would you want with me?” She says, and she doesn’t have to try to make her voice shake.
“A woman of your talents? All manner of things,” He says. “I’m a businessman, same as Mr. Hood. I always need people like you, loyal people. Look at Liam. I need him same as I need men like Angelo here. It’s not like the old days, little girl.” He checks his watch, like this is a meeting running a hair too long. “I don’t have to bribe the police anymore. I am the police.”
“What I don’t understand -” And Aspen knows this is risky, showing her hand, but Falcone obviously intends to kill her and she’ll take every second she has left - “what I don’t understand is why. Sionis and Trident and- and Mr. Hood, what did they have that you needed? You rule Gotham -”
“I don’t rule Gotham. Yet. But I will. Fear is a powerful tool. You’ll see.” Falcone jerks his chin at the man standing behind her, the one who dragged her in here again, and he squats to the floor. Aspen looks to see him rolling out a leather knife roll, like chefs carry, but the metal that catches her eye is glinting off pliers, and then a hammer, and next to that is a scalpel, and she can’t look anymore. With a small sound she turns her eyes back to Falcone, who watches her like a hawk as she licks her lips. “Once the Gotham elite are pissing their designer suits, they’ll be desperate for any solution. And I’ve built myself a reputation for running a tight operation. It’s one thing to take control, but it’s much more delicious to have it handed to you.”
“So why Calum?”
“Calum?” Fuck. Falcone leans down until his eyes are level with hers, putting his hands on his knees for support. Aspen tries very hard not to squirm. “Is that why you’re holding your tongue?” He reached out and cupped her face with one hand, soft and moist like a toad’s belly. At this point, she didn’t have the control to try and hide her revulsion. His thumb rests on her cheekbone, dangerously close to the whiteness of her eye. “So sweet, thinking of him in your last moments. I promise you, he won’t return the gesture.”
Aspen felt the remnants of champagne toss in her belly. That was what she was doing, wasn’t it? Pathetic.
“Look at you. Loyal as a dog.” He said, patting her cheek twice - well, it was closer to a slap - before he let her go and straightened up. “What did he do to deserve you, hm? All he had to do was reach up your skirt, and -”
“It’s not like that. You’re wrong.” Aspen said, curling her hands into useless fists.
“Am I?” Falcone smiled. It was worse than his disdain. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you see him one more time before I have you killed. You’d make such a pretty picture, you two lovers, yes? The intrepid little secretary, gutted like a fish. Like a sweet promise on the other side.”
Aspen swallowed hard. She wished she had a watch. Play for time, play for time. It was just - this was impossible to ignore. “You’re a poet.” She managed around the bad taste in her mouth.
“Of course. I don’t enjoy this.” Oh, he did, he clearly did, looking down at her, watching her test her chains like a moth jerking on a pin. “I’m not a violent man, sweetheart. I have Angelo for that.”
She really was going to throw up. This abject fucking man. “So why Calum, then? I’m sure having his net worth parceled off into a trust for the kid isn’t in your best interest.”
Don Falcone eyed her for a second, and for a moment fear tightened like a fist around her lungs. He knew she was trying to waste his time. But after a moment, he let himself answer. After all, she was going to be dead within the hour. “Oh, I don’t need his money now. After his gala? After everything he’s done for the city? His death will be the tipping point. No, no. He could never be the first, either. You see that.”
“Of course.” She did understand. Calum’s d- fuck, she couldn’t even think the word, but it had to be the climax, not the overture.
He glances at his watch again, then back at her wan little face. Aspen knows with cold certainty that this is it. “I’ve done enough talking. It’s your turn, my dear.”
Is she really gonna let herself go through this? Keep playing dumb? Her mom is gonna be so sad, she realized, when they can’t have an open casket, and she has to gasp for air for a second. “No, wait, please, I - I can’t tell you anything, I’m so sorry. I don’t know anything!” she hears herself babbling, some small part of her making the choice for her. These minutes of life are precious, even if they’re going to hurt.
Falcone’s not even listening, she realizes, as he talks over her. He’s still so fucking cool, even while he’s figuring out where to dump her body. “Angelo, the ear, I think.” He says, and Aspen breaks as he grabs a handful of her hair and hauls it out off the right side of her face. She’s gone weak - she thinks she’s saying wait, wait, no, please - but he’s not listening. He’s not listening. “Maybe you’ll behave better once you know I’m serious. Don’t bite your tongue, please, or you’ll be no more use to me.” Aspen’s crying again now, she can’t help it, her heart is pounding in her ears - fuck - and the grip in her hair gets tighter until she thinks if she moves he’ll rip it out. Her head is locked in his grip and braced against his body, he smells like leather and something mechanical, she can’t escape it this close. Out of the corner of her eye she sees something silver glint at her like teeth. No. No. No.
That thing about knives being too sharp to hurt? That’s bullshit.
She feels it slip through the first layers of skin, body jolting despite the hold he has on her. And then it starts to /hurt/ and then he meets the cartilage and he has to saw for every millimeter and she can feel the movement go through her body. There’s blood trickling down the side of her face now. Through her blurry vision, she sees Falcone in front of her, and she doesn’t need to see his face to know he is unmoved.
And then she sees something else.
It happens like this - all at once. Cause and effect jumbled.
Someone all in black comes through the window she was dangled out of.
The grip on her hair eases.
Something flies through the air with a shriek.
Something clicks with electricity. It smells like ozone.
Aspen turns to look.
And the knife slips.
#mwahahahaha#is it calum finally doing something?#is it the cops?#is it another evil hitman?#tune in next week to find out#i should have saved the symbolism until next week tbh but whatever#cw: violence#content warning#ch blurb#calum hood fic#calum hood series#5 seconds of summer series#my writing#tdwk8#the devil wears kevlar#also liams in this one#ceo!cal#batman!au
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The One With the Zombies - AshEiji - Ch15
Title: The One With the Zombies
Chapter: 15
Word Count: 5163
Description: Another what it says on the tin from me - it’s a Zombie Apocalypse AU because how else could this anime/manga get any darker? Whilst on the run from the outbreak of zombies, reporters Ibe and Eiji stumble across a New York street gang, safely huddled in an abandoned warehouse. As if the undead weren’t surprising enough, Eiji finds himself becoming closer and closer to the gang’s leader, mysteriously dubbed Ash Lynx. But safety doesn’t last forever and soon it’s only Ash and Eiji. And they’re up against more than just zombies.
Note: This is available on A03, and I would recommend you follow it there, as I remember to update it. I would post a link, but then Tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.
It didn’t suit Ash. The cheap suit that was too wide everywhere and made him look like he was borrowing Max’s. Which of course, he was, but no one was supposed to know that.
Ash had leant against the doorframe to the bathroom, fastening the tie and fixing Eiji a smirk that, despite the black nylon, made him duck his head to hide his smile.
Max and Ibe had scraped enough money to move them out of a hotel and into a cramped apartment. They’d played on the refugee part, and continued to act the part of their parents. They were a refugee family – and a gay refugee family, at that.
It wasn’t great, but it was something. It was home.
“Do you think I could get a license to kill like this?” Ash asked, pushing his hair off of his face, even though he was meant to leave it down and fluffy. The goal was to look as young as possible. The younger the boy, the more sympathy they’d gain. It didn’t stop Ash from winking at Eiji.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Eiji was still smiling, his face still burning because – damn, he loved that boy. He loved looking at that boy and seeing him wink and feeling butterflies still fluttering up a tornado in his stomach.
“Yeah.”
Eiji put on his best American accent, “I think if I had one day when I didn’t have to be all confused and I didn’t have to feel that I was ashamed of everything. If I felt that I belonged someplace. You know?”
Ash tried to scowl at him. It didn’t quite work. He was grinning too much to really look angry.
“You’re a real yo-yo.” He said.
“I love you too.”
Ash had laughed and closed the bathroom door to change again. Later, Eiji wondered if he should have stood, left his book on the bed and taken Ash’s tie in his hand. If he should have been the one to change Ash out of that suit.
If Ash would even let him.
But it was the end of the suits. They gave way to pastel button ups and woollen pullovers that made Ash look like Eiji did when he was first in the city. Or, that he should go to a private boarding school. That he spent the weekends playing golf and laughing at a country club, rather than organising a gang and shooting up zombies. They made him look like Max’s son.
There was an argument about that.
“You came into the country as Aslan Lobo. What will they say if they knew we were lying?” Max had been pacing, his tie undone in his collar and only one shoe off in their hotel room. They were planning to try to sell the story, that afternoon, Eiji knew.
“We also pulled a gun on them. I don’t think the lying part will be the problem,” Ash snapped. He sat, one leg up on the bed and his arms hooking around Eiji so that he fell against him. He felt like a human shield, with Ash’s chin on the top of his head.
“It makes a better narrative – that I’ve been trying to find you all these years and now we finally know-“
“You were trying to find me because you let my brother get bitten by a zombie!” Ash was spitting like a wildcat. Eiji leant back, wrapping himself tighter in Ash as if that would appease him. There was something unspoken in that statement. A desperation for the guilt to shift. “You found us by sheer luck.”
“It’s my story!”
Eiji felt Ash stiffen around him. Or maybe he was the one that froze. They all had. It took a moment for Max to run a hand over his mouth and chin. Dark eyes flickered to Ash.
“I didn’t mean that,” Max said, quickly.
“It’s fine.” Ash was just as quick.
“No – Ash, I’m sorry.”
“Max.” His arms were too tight around Eiji. It hurt but he hardly dared breathe. “You’re right. This is the scoop you’ve been waiting for. I’ll follow you.”
Max gave him another glance. Then breathed heavily through his nose and stared out of the window.
“Go by whatever you want.”
For a moment, Eiji wondered if Ash had planned the whole thing that way.
“I want him to know it’s me. Without a doubt that I’m the one bringing him down.”
“Hey.” There was a gleam in Max’s eye. “I said I’d let you choose your name, not take all the glory.”
And Ash’s arms relaxed. He almost laughed – Eiji could feel it in the chest behind him – a bubble trying to escape but not quite rising enough.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll let you do all the talking.”
“As if you could keep your mouth shut long enough.” Max was grinning, as if the whole argument hadn’t happened. The two always seemed to switch back and forth so fast that it gave Eiji whiplash. And suddenly Ash was standing – they were leaving, because an office slightly uptown was going to hear Max’s story and that gave Eiji butterflies in his stomach. Over the last few days, Ash had been completely absorbed, rechecking facts and figures and going over law books late into the night. Sometimes he was still reading when Eiji woke up in the morning from the sunlight streaming in through their window. It was starting to come through later now, the pounding sun starting to bow down to wind as September started. Ash was obsessed with this case. Obsessed with making it sting as much as he could.
So if they got there and they were turned away…
Eiji didn’t think he could deal with the fallout.
Ash kissed the top of his head, and as he looked up, his lips too. “Will you be okay here on your own, sweetie?”
“Who said I would be here? Or alone?” Eiji smiled, and the fact that he had clearly caught Ash out made him smile wider. “Maybe I’m going out with Soo-Ling.”
Ash blinked. “Are you? Out with Soo-Ling?”
“No.” Eiji was still smiling, as he kissed Ash. “I’m going to the library – I want to Skype my family. Make sure they know I’m alright.”
“And are you going to tell them about your boyfriend?” Ash was curling his fingers in the hair around Eiji’s ear, one knee still on the bed so that he was above him.
“My boyfriend?” It was easier to tease Ash than to hesitate. To think about how he had no idea how he was going to tell his parents. There was a zombie apocalypse. And he was gay. And dating a gang leader. These things may all be linked, he wasn’t sure.
“Your boyfriend.” Ash’s fingers curled tight in his hair, and he leant forward, tilting his head in the way he did when he was going to give Eiji one of those heart-melting kisses.
But he was abruptly pulled away by the scruff of his collar.
“Come on, Romeo. We’re going to be late.”
“I prefer to think of myself as Mercutio.” Ash still had hold of Eiji’s hand, and he brought it to his lips. Eiji supposed he was giggling and blushing like a fair maid in some romantic poem. “Ah, then, I see, Queen Mab, hath been with you-“
“I thought we agreed no romantic crap in front of me.”
“The Queen Mab speech is not romantic.”
“I meant the kissing and stuff.”
“You’re just cranky because your wife divorced you!”
Eiji could hear them bickering all the way down the hallway and found himself smiling. His chest felt fuzzy – like when he was home. Sitting together in the living room or celebrating a birthday. This felt like his family.
So it was weird to sit and see his mother’s face peering into the camera. (Too close. She was sat too close.) And his sister pushing her out of the way and grinning at him. Grinning and crying. Grinning and sobbing tears of relief and joy because –
“You’re okay – you’re really okay! I can’t believe – you’re okay!”
“I’m okay.” Eiji could only smile. Smile and think that she looked young. Very young. “I’m alive.”
There was a babble of Japanese coming out of the computer screen at him and it took his ear a moment to tune into it. That made his stomach flicker with nerves. But it was just a moment, before it was back and he could try to speak over his sister, who was speaking over his mother, who was speaking over his father.
“You don’t look any different!” They were saying – was the gist of it. That surprised him.
When they had first arrived at the hotel he had caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and almost hadn’t recognised himself. He’d lost weight – lots of it – it wasn’t just that the t-shirts were baggy. His hips jutted out alarmingly and he could see his ribs. His hair was a mess – curling around itself like it was trying to turn itself into a thorn bush – and he had needed a good shave.
But it was the eyes that scared him. There was something feral in them. A glint of a wild boy. A boy who had killed zombies time and time again because he had to survive. The kind of boy that pulled a gun on customs officers.
He didn’t look the same.
And they wanted to know everything of course. Wanted to know everything that had happened to him. He hesitated over his story, over the many parts of it that he didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want them to know he had chain sawed a zombie in half and quoted an eighties movie. He didn’t want them to know what he’d let his best friend do to keep him safe. He didn’t want them to know hardly any of it. He didn’t know how to tell them he was gay.
Why was that the scariest bit?
Just be glad I’m alive. Just be glad I’m alive, he wanted to say.
“So this Ash Lynx must be your best friend, no, huh?” his sister asked after an increasingly sanitised version of events.
Ashu Rinks. He could hear the way she said it.
He found himself smiling, trying to find the way to say it. To make the words on his tongue materialise into the air.
But his mom was interrupting him. Asking him a million questions about where he was staying, and was Ibe alright and what was the plan now?
What was the plan now?
He woke up when Ash wasn’t sleeping next to him. That was the only thing he could focus on. The plan was to stick to Ash. No matter what. He wasn’t sure how to say that to him. Instead, he focused on the court stuff. Said that Ibe was heavily involved in bringing someone who had killed their friend down and that he wanted to stay there until it was over.
Eiji said he’d keep them updated, because he wasn’t sure how to say he didn’t plan to come back home.
*
Eiji started working part time in a café. He said it was because he was bored – that he was putting the money away to save for an apartment in the city – or maybe out of the city – somewhere. Somewhere with Ash. That future made his stomach flip and tumble like a salmon leaping upstream.
But for now, Eiji worked in a café, and came home smelling of coffee. And Ash relished in coming in and burying his nose into Eiji’s hair just to catch a whiff of it. Coffee and sweat from running around in the heat. That made him think of the early days of the Summer. Of the warehouse and standing outside in silence because neither of them knew what to say to each other – only that they needed to be next to each other. For some reason it made Ash nostalgic. He missed those days. There was something simple about it – he was just a gang leader. A gang leader trapped by his past and with a bloody future ahead of him. But also a happy future. And maybe that was worth the blood.
“You smell like cigarettes.” Eiji mumbled. He wrapped his arms up and around Ash’s neck. Tired. Ash had the same aches – in the small of his back and his legs. They were so tired now.
“They published the story.” It was all he had to say for Eiji to bolt upright, to turn and take Ash’s hands in his. His eyes were glinting. “There was immediate backlash.”
“He’s going to court.” It wasn’t even a question.
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow it starts.”
“Oh, sweetie.”
Ash kissed Eiji then. Kissed him just to feel something because his face had been numb and tingling since the news, and Eiji was warm. Eiji tasted like coffee and he needed more of that, his arms wrapping around him and pulling him as close as he could. Eiji was relenting, letting him take as much as he needed. It worked both ways. In the middle of the night when Eiji would wake up in a cold sweat Ash would let him close. Would let him run his fingers over as much of Ash as he needed to, even if it made his heart panic in the dark. It was so easy for Eiji’s fingers to turn into someone else’s.
“I don’t know.” Ash said. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“I can go with you.” Eiji’s fingers trailed down Ash’s jumper and he loved that. He loved being touched as if he was worth something.
“You won’t be able to get it off work.”
Eiji repeated. “I can go with you.”
And Ash opened his mouth to say ‘yes, of course – please.’ His eyes were closed and his mouth was over Eiji’s. He wanted to say please – please, he couldn’t do this alone. And yet, when he closed his eyes all he could see was that face across the courtroom. Ice cold blue eyes. It was disturbing, how clearly he could see every line and twitch of him.
And how clearly he could see Eiji’s face when he had found out about it all. It had been almost worse than if he had been disgusted by Ash. There had just been so much sadness there – such deep and utter heartbreak.
Ash couldn’t make Eiji sit through it. Not for himself. He wasn’t worth it.
“No,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Really?” Eiji’s lips traced his jaw, and Ash could feel a whine forming in the back of his throat. Like a dog – a trained dog, Golzine would say. And Eiji hadn’t even meant it to be teasing – he was just too lazy to pull away and that was where his mouth had been.
His stomach clenched. He had thought it was pressed down – all pressed down so far that there was no way of him ever getting those memories back again. Ash had thought, after a month with Eiji – just Eiji being Eiji – that he’d be fine.
He made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like assent. But his hands were hovering over Eiji’s waist and he knew he had gone stiff. Was holding his breath and barely breathing.
And of course, it didn’t go unnoticed.
“Are you alright?”
Ash made another sound, catching the back of Eiji’s head with one hand and burying his nose and mouth into it. Breathe – he needed to breathe – to smell the coffee.
“Ash?” Eiji pressed, chasing creases along Ash’s jumper with his fingers.
“I don’t –“ he knew he was probably holding Eiji’s head too tightly. But it was a lifeline, it was a way on proving to himself that this was all real. This was his life. His life was good now and he needed to move on. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”
“Do you think-“ Eiji’s fingers spread the jumper back out again. “Do you think – would it be best to talk to a –“
Ash could guess what was coming, and he felt himself stiffen. “Therapist?”
“I just…” Eiji trailed off. He eased himself out of Ash’s grip, so that he could look him in the eye. “I don’t know how to make this better.”
“It’s fine.” His stomach was clenched so tightly that it made him feel sick. “You’re fine, just being here and being you-“
“I was going to go,” Eiji said. He didn’t look Ash in the eye. Instead, he hooked his fingers through Ash’s belt loops absentmindedly. Ash put his hands over the top, peeing Eiji’s touch away like he was a clingy toddler. “We’ve been through – it’s been – scary.”
“I can go with you.”
“You can,” Eiji smiled, glancing up at him from under his lashes. “But you’ll have to wait outside.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe I’m going to talk about things I don’t want you knowing.”
“Like how much you love me?” Ash asked. He tucked a strand of hair behind Eiji’s ear and Eiji leant into the touch. He was trying to make his body go back to normal – to go back to being soft, instead of feeling stiff. It felt like he was a puppet on a string. The feeling was too similar to turning up at Golzine’s mansion with Eiji on his back.
“No,” Eiji said, softly. “I’d always tell you that.”
Ash kissed him then, because if he didn’t kiss him, he would cry. Because Eiji was too sweet, too genuine and too good to ever be with Ash. It felt like he’d dragged this boy down into blood with him.
He’d dragged Eiji down as far as him wanting to go to therapy.
“Will you think about it?” Eiji asked. His eyes were barely open and he was smiling lazily. He was gorgeous.
“Yeah. I’ll think about it.” There was no way. No way he was letting anyone pick around inside his brain and figure out just how messed up he was. No way he was going to become the case of a lifetime for some random grown up who’d gone to school way too long.
No way was Ash Lynx going to therapy.
*
Max thought it was a good idea.
Ash had grumbled it to him in the back of the uber they were taking to the courtroom. It had been easier to talk about something – anything, than sit in silence.
“Probably sensible. We can’t all act like characters on the Walking Dead.”
The suit was itchy and a size too big. He’d rolled up the sleeves like a child and now he unfolded them again, scowling.
“The zombie apocalypse was a walk in the park.”
“Not for most people.” Max leant back. He was flipping through his notebook and his hands were shaking slightly. It might have been nerves, but it was more likely to be the five coffees he’d had this morning having a side effect. “Eiji’s just worried about you. He doesn’t know the best way to help you recover.”
Ash sighed. He caught sight of the clock on the car dashboard. An hour and a half. An hour and a half before he would be sat down in the courtroom. Expected to give evidence and testify and try to bring down a Godzilla of capitalism.
And to top it all off, Max was right. He knew what Blanca would have said if he was here. That Eiji couldn’t fix him and he should stop expecting that of him. Should stop expecting Eiji to know how to deal with his menagerie of issues.
“None of this has been fair on him,” he muttered. His palms were damp. He was too hot – travel sick – needed to get out of this damn car and run –
And keep running.
“So, do it for Eiji.” Max said. He was fiddling with his cigarette pack, thumbing the lid on and off. The driver gave him a warning look.
“Fuck you, Lobo.”
“What was that?” Max cupped a hand to his ear, but he had a smirk on his face. “Thank you, Max? Thank you for always giving me good advice, even if I don’t listen and take you for granted.”
“Fuck. You.”
But Max was smiling at him. A smile that made his brown eyes twinkle and the lines around them deepen. Like a dad. It made something in Ash twinge mournfully.
“It’s good to see your nerves haven’t gotten to your attitude,” Max said.
“I’m never nervous.”
“Good.”
They were stopping, even though they were nowhere near the courthouse. A look outside the window showed a crowd of people. Citizens and journalists and photographers. Their cameras were already flashing and Ash had to turn his face away. A sea – a sea of people all clamouring about them and the case and pictures – flash – flash – flash –
He was holding his breath without meaning to. Forced himself to swallow air and meet Max’s heavy gaze.
“Good.” Max repeated. “Because I’m just about shitting myself.”
*
Pictures. There were pictures of Ash on the front of every newspaper, and most of them were bad. They were mostly glimpses of him, from behind Max. His head ducked, or the hood of his coat up, sunglasses covering his face.
Not the face. Ash had said that, when the others had gotten hold of Eiji’s camera and were mucking around with the remaining battery. He hadn’t known enough English to ask them to stop, but he also hadn’t minded that much. What was he going to take pictures of anyway? Zombies didn’t pose.
They had turned the lens to Ash and he had scowled, sticking his palm out to block out the image.
“Not the face.”
It was only when Ash had explained – had told Eiji the whole story that he understood. There was a reason Ash hated having his photo taken. So, this must have been torture. Even more torture than it already was.
But at least they weren’t allowed to film in the courthouse. A small blessing, even if almost every word was in one newspaper or the other.
Ash had taken to leaving early – way earlier than he needed to be at the courthouse, to avoid most of the reporters. So that he could slip in the back entrance with Max. He’d sneak away the moment he could – before the cameras were ready, so that he had a few seconds head start.
He’d come back late – though it got dark so early now that night seemed to last a day in itself, and fill Eiji in. As though he hadn’t been checking the news on his phone at work for any kind of update. The case was at a stand-still. Golzine’s money was starting to trickle through the cracks, slowing down any progress and verdict. It was Ash and Max that were pushing – and pushing hard. There were campaigns online for justice, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect.
The virus had spread down to Mexico and was seeping into South America. The Northern borders were contained and the official line was to wait. All transport in or out had ceased, as had any movement between the borders. Wait, was the official line. Wait for the bodies to decompose. Most in the south had already stopped becoming a threat, the zombies had gone without food in such a dry climate for so long that they had decomposed entirely. It could take four more months for the rest to do the same. No one knew what they would do afterwards – if the soil would be forever tainted by the living dead or not.
And Eiji had started going to a support group, on the recommendation of the evaluation a therapist gave him. He didn’t require intense treatment, the therapist had said – Eiji suspected it was more his empty wallet that led him there.
But it was helping. He was having less recurring memories of decaying faces and yellow eyes. He was picking up techniques to calm himself down when the images and sounds started to replay in his head. And because of that, he was able to help Ash better.
His nightmares had gotten worse. He’d wake up soaked in sweat, shivering, but too hot – much too hot. His eyes wouldn’t even focus on Eiji when he switched on the light and told Ash that it was “okay. They were here, in Toronto. Eiji was here. It was okay.”
It was too much, Eiji knew. This was too much of a strain on him, but Goddammit if Ash wasn’t going to win this case.
Ash was the one who made use of the therapist. Though that wasn’t simple, either. There was a leak in the building – the reporters knew where Ash was staying and where he was going to therapy. He left the apartment by the fire escape, looking like an undercover celebrity – in huge hoodies and shades with his blonde hair hidden. They all wanted his story, his thoughts on how the case was going and what he wanted to do – why he wanted to do it. Ash hadn’t said a word to any of them and told Eiji not to, either.
“They’re not going to want to talk to me.” Eiji had said, leaning back against Ash as he read. They had to keep the curtains closed all the time now.
But he had been wrong. He had stepped out in his barista uniform to go to work and had found lights flashing at him like fireworks, blinding him so he could hardly see straight.
“What’s your relationship with Ash Lynx?”
“How long have you known Ash Lynx?”
“Were you involved with Golzine’s sex trafficking?”
He would have stayed there, blinking at them like a stunned rabbit in the middle of the road, if Soo-Ling hadn’t been roller skating by. Within an instant, he was at Eiji’s side, and tugging him down the street.
“Hey, lay off, would ya? Go find a real story instead of bothering people!” he had snapped, and made a few rude gestures.
The questions turned to him, asking who he was and who Eiji was and honestly it seemed like they were all a hivemind. A bunch of brainwashed zombies themselves, after any scrap of exclusive material for their magazines.
“I’m the kid that’ll punch your lenses out – and I’m not fussy about which ones.” Soo-Ling stuck his tongue out at them, and kept skating alongside Eiji, keeping a hand on his elbow to keep him walking fast.
It was after that, Soo-Ling’s gang would lurk around the apartment and chase off as many reporters as they could. As soon as Yut Lung got wind of it all, his guys joined in. The apartment quickly became a hive for gang members to lounge about in, some of them creating fake leads for the reporters to follow.
Of course, Eiji’s photo had appeared in the paper – of him staring wide eyed at the cameras alongside a long piece about exactly if he and Ash were together or not. Ash had thought the photo was cute. Eiji had wrestled it out of Ash’s hands, so Ash had leapt on Eiji, fingers reaching for the newspaper clipping.
They had wrestled on the bed over it, elbows and knees jabbing at each other. Ash took advantage of how ticklish Eiji was and eventually got the upper hand, pinning him to the duvet. Eiji had been laughing, the paper crumpled up in one hand, until he noticed the way Ash was looking at him. He’d caught that look before. As if Eiji was made of light. As if he was something delicate that couldn’t be handled too roughly. A look of pure adoration that made Eiji feel as though he was full of hot, bubbly cider.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too.” Ash’s voice was a murmur.
It was a collective realisation that Ash was straddling Eiji’s lap. That his hands were pinning Eiji’s wrists to the messy duvet and that there was something crackling in the air. It was like a storm was brewing in the room and Eiji needed Ash to move – he had to get off because it was too much. Ash’s hair flopping down like that, and the smell of cigarettes on his skin – and that look was just too much.
“Let’s have…” Ash held the word in his mouth for way too long, letting the electricity continue to spark in the air and Eiji’s stomach hurt. “Sex. Let’s do it soon.”
He might as well have punched Eiji in the gut. But he managed to nod. To swallow and nod.
“Now?” he whispered.
Ash didn’t reply. His fingers trailed down Eiji’s arms, ghost, tracing their way down his sides and onto his hips. Slow – so slow, and Eiji was holding his breath when Ash finally reached the waistband of his jeans.
He was watching Eiji with cat’s eyes. More interested than anything else. Eiji just hoped that he didn’t look as warm as he felt. That he wasn’t literally falling apart in front of Ash just because the word ‘sex’ had been said.
Ash popped open the button of his jeans. Slid the zip down, and paused. He swallowed. Closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and took a shaky breath.
Eiji put his hands over Ash’s.
“Maybe not now,” he muttered, because he could barely think straight but he had to be there – had to be there for Ash.
“No, I can –“
“Ash.” Eiji took a breath that rattled his frame. He felt Ash’s fingers twitch underneath his. He’d never felt like quite like this. Not with Ash. Not such a need. “You think I can’t see how uncomfortable you are?”
“You think I can’t see how turned on you are?” Ash replied. His fingers curled underneath Eiji’s waistband. They froze again.
“Stop.” Everything in Eiji was telling him not to say those words. To be a little selfish and get what he wanted. But that was how everyone else in Ash’s life had been, and, fuck, he wasn’t going to add to it. “Sweetie, stop.”
Eiji hauled himself onto his elbows. He was still holding the scrap of newspaper, he realised.
“Not today,” he whispered.
Ash nodded, and swung off of him, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hands through his hair.
“It’s okay,” Eiji said, and tried to smile. “It’s okay. We’ll get there.”
Ash nodded. But then his back started shaking and he half turned to Eiji, a grin on his face.
“Do you think I should mention this in therapy?” he asked, a Cheshire cat grin on his face.
“No! Ash!”
And Eiji threw a pillow as hard as he could.
But he was laughing too.
#asheiji#banana fish#turnupswrites#bf#fanfiction#bf fanfiction#banana fish fanfiction#ash lynx#eiji okumura
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Smokey brand Select: Violent Delights
I was waxing nostalgic the other day about the Nineties version of Romeo and Juliet, about how much i actually like certain aspects of that film and absolutely abhor others. It got me pondering how much i unabashedly enjoy Shakespeare and many of the big screen adaption of “his” work. These things run the gambit of genre and i think it’s a ripe subject to kind of pick from. I mean, there are just so many ways to adapt this cats catalog and i figure i might as well pick out my favorites.
10. Forbidden Planet
This movie ain’t great. It;s not. But love it anyway. I have a soft spot for those old timey, Fifties, monster flicks and Forbidden Planet is one of the best. It’s campy schlock, don’t misunderstand, but i used to watch this thing late night, right before regular TV went of air. It’s the worst, but i appreciate the fact that it’s true to its time and is one of the very, very, few adaptions of The Tempest. That play never gets the love it deserves.
9. Ophelia
Ophelia is Hamlet from the perspective of his wife, Ophelia. It’s an interesting take on the Hamlet narrative, not really one of would gravitate toward if not for this ridiculously stellar cast, particularly Daisy Ridley. She kills the role as Ophelia and kind of makes you want to see where this version of the story goes. I definitely prefer the tragedy of Hamlet over this take on the narrative, but Ophelia definitely stands on it’s own and is totally worth a watch.
8. She’s the Man
Listen, this is a guilty pleasure. She’s the Man ain’t great. It;s actually pretty terrible, but i love it for how earnest this film is in telling it’s story. An adaption of Shakespeare’s gender-swap farce, Twelfth Night, it’s one of the few, comedic, plays that got the big screen treatment and Amanda Bynes carries this whole goddamn movie as this version’s Viola. I actually miss when Bynes wasn’t crazy and just made funny, endearing, sh*t like this. I mean, who doesn’t love Big Fat Liar, you know?
7. Scotland, PA
This is probably the most creative take on a Shakespeare property i have ever seen in my entire life. This is MacBeth, told as black comedy a la Fargo, set in a 1975 Pennsylvania fast food restaurant. Yeah. I’m not even going to go any further into it. This was one of the most ridiculous viewing experiences i’ve ever had and i loved very second of it.
6. Hamlet
I feel like this is a cheat, like there would be something different here. I actually pondered the Lion King because, technically, that’s a Hamlet adaption but, the more i thought about it, the more this one had to go on the list. It’s just that good. The 1996 version of Hamlet, directed, screenplay written by, and starring Kenneth Branagh, is a whole ass classic. It’s a straight forward interpretation of the original play only updated with a nineteenth century aesthetic, which fits the narrative surprisingly well. This version of Hamlet is high f*cking art, man. It’s gorgeous in every way. The score, the costumes, the sets, the colors; All of it is a legitimate feast for the eyes. That said, this motherf*cker is four hours long so, you know, understand that sh*t going in. It;s worth, don’t misunderstand, it’s just real long in the tooth, man.
5. My Own Private Idaho
Idaho is probably the bleakest film on this list. Gus Van Zant is pretty great at capturing the sordid, cruel, reality of the human experiences which makes his adaption of Shakespeare’s Henry tetralogy. I don’t much go for European history for reasons, but i dug this flick and how it kind of mutes all of the glamour and Victorian nonsense for a more guttural, street level, desperation. My Own Private Idaho is not an easy watch I t can be incredibly difficult to get through at times but that doesn’t mean it’s not a brilliant film. that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take on this challenge. The performance that River Phoenix gives, alone, is enough for admission. As dope as Joaquin is at his craft, River was definitely the superior talent and that is no more apparent than in this movie.
4. 10 Things I Hate About You
The Taming of the Shrew is actually one of my favorite Shakespeare plays and this film, 10 Things I Hate About You, is one of the best versions of that narrative. This film is f*cking hilarious. It’s outstanding and unique and never strays from the heart of it’s inspiration. Plus, i mean, it’s got a young Heath Ledger just stealing all of the scenes. When you watch him in this, you know dude has all of the talent. This film is why i was completely okay with him as Joker when they announced it. Everyone else lost their sh*t but me? I remembered Ledger’s Patrick Verona and knew the role was in good hands.
3. Throne of Blood
If i had to choose a favorite Shakespeare story, it’s definitely MacBeth. I love that sh*t. There’s intrigue, betrayal, violence, lust, and even a little magic; Everything you need to build an intriguing plot. Take the basic narrative and funnel it through a true master of film like Akira Kurosawa and you get a real classic like Throne of Blood. This is an old one, it dropped back in ‘57, but it’s worth a watch. Kurosawa was a true visionary in his craft and the way he was able to, not only adapt but elevate the source material? F*cking amazing, man. Y’all should watch more Akira Kurosawa, man. He’s one of the most influential filmmakers ever to do it and it’s for good reason. Also, f*cking more MacBeth adaptions, please? There are only, like, six. The f*ck, yo?
2. Romeo + Juliet
I’ve already spoken about my love for this decidedly Nineties take on that classic, uncomfortably problematic, laughably toxic, romance that’s just rife with all of the tragedy and tropes. Why the double-dip? Because i love it THAT much! Tybalt, Mercutio, the aesthetic, that soundtrack; F*cking chef kiss, bro! If you’ve never seen this version of Romeo and Juliet, you don't love yourself enough.
1. Ex Machina
Yeah, that’s right, this f*cking masterpiece of existential, cyberpunk dread, is based on Shakespeare, too! Motherf*ckers wouldn’t know because it’s kind of a deep cut but a lot of the themes from The Tempest, actually my second favorite Shakespeare outing, ring true to Garland’s narrative. I mean, do i really have to explain why i love this movie so much? Actually, i have. Repeatedly. My praise for this movie is rife throughout the backlog of this blog. This thing has made multiple of the Select lists because it’s so f*cking great. Obviously, it’s my favorite adaption but, more than that, like Throne of Blood, it’s just a great f*cking film by itself.
Honorable Mentions: The Lion King, Titus (1999), A Midsummer Night's Dream (1999), Men of Respect, Richard III (1995), Much Ado About Nothing (1993), Ran, MacBeth (2015), Coriolanus (2011), Get Over It
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Why Do We Run
The five times Benvolio says I love you, and the one time Rosaline says it back.
Ao3
I.
“I love you.”
Rosaline tries not to cringe at Benvolio Montague’s words. Which is hard, considering they are holding hands in front of their entire 8th grade class.
“And I, you.”
He makes a face at her words, partially covered by his too long hair.
That’s it. The scene should be over. It should be some other students turn to make complete fools of themselves in front of the class.
She should not still be holding his hand.
“Umm.” Benvolio coughs, and turns toward their teacher. Mrs. Lazzara sighs before clapping her hands together, the rest of the class following in unison. Benvolio rips his hands away from hers and stalks back to his seat.
Someone wolf whistles when Rosaline sits down, and it takes everything in her being to not throw a book at them.
Two months. She has two months left of middle school, two months left of acting out scenes for English class, two months until her chances of ever being paired up with Benvolio Montague again fall to less than 5%.
“I love you!” the next pair presenting says. The partner blushes accordingly, and bat their eye lashes. That was how the scene was supposed to look. Maybe now Mrs. Lazzara would stop pairing her with her sworn enemy.
She can feel Benvolio’s eyes burning into the back of her head, but she refuses to look at him. Instead she crosses the day off her calendar and tries not to break another pencil.
II.
She really should have known better than to think prom would actually be fun. Juliet left to dance with her date less than 20 minutes in. Isabella was skirted away from some beautiful girl about 40 minutes later.
It didn’t bother her that she didn’t have a date – she did say no to Romeo Montague when he asked – but what did bother her was being alone. The slow dances had started and all her friends had someone to dance with leaving her alone eating cake while some John Legend song plays in the background.
The bright lights of the hallway almost blind her. She needs out of the ballroom, out of the dance, out of the crowd. Rosaline needs a minute to compose herself. She has a week left of high school, and then she would be done with Verona high and everyone in it. Except for her cousin and her sister and Isabella, but everyone else, she never wants to see again.
She can hear the song change from the restroom, and she knows Juliet will be looking for her in a minute, but she doesn’t want to go back yet. She runs her hands under the cool water, trying to calm herself down.
Her phone dings, and she sighs. It dings 4 more times, and she tells Juliet she’s in the bathroom to just give her a moment.
The music gets louder the second she opens the door back into the too bright hallway. She closes her eyes, ignoring her phone for another moment, readying herself to go back in.
“I love you, Rosaline.”
The words stop her in her tracks. She knows that voice. She also knows that is the last thing Benvolio Montague would ever say.
“Do you really think that will work?”
Rosaline knows that voice too, and it takes all her power not to groan and let the boys know she is there.
“I don’t know Rom. That’s how it works in the movies.” Benvolio says. She moves closer to the voices, discovering the two Montagues in a hallway off to the side. Benvolio’s the one facing her, and his eyes catch hers over Romeo’s head.
“Where is Mercutio when you need him?” Romeo says. He hasn’t noticed Rosaline yet, and Ben moves his eyes in a way telling her to get away while she has the chance.
“Probably dancing with his boyfriend.”
Rosaline gathers her dress in her hands and starts making her way back to the ballroom.
“You sound bitter.” Romeo says, and Rosaline has to agree with him.
“Yeah, I’m bitter he left me alone with you.” She can hear his eye roll in his voice, and for some stupid reason it makes her smile.
“Wow. Wait, what are you looking at?” Romeo’s voice gets slightly louder.
“No one.”
“Liar.”
She hears footsteps, and she knows she going to be caught because her heels make it nearly impossible to walk fast, and her skirt slows her down even more.
“Rosaline.” Romeo’s voice cracks over her name, and she can’t very well ignore him without being the world’s biggest bitch, so she goes to turn when someone collides into her.
“Ros! There you are I thought you drowned in the bathroom!” Juliet says, eyes falling on the boys behind her. Rosaline watches as Romeo turns from her to Juliet, and his face changes, just slightly, but enough for Rosaline to know something has happened. Benvolio watches too, a look of horror crossing his features.
“Hi. I’m Romeo.”
“I know who you are.” Juliet scoffs, rolling her eyes him. But Rosaline can see the slight color in her cheeks, and she thinks maybe, just maybe, she’s been saved from Romeo’s confession of love.
Benvolio sighs at the pair as he brushes past them. He’s grown since middle school. He’s taller than her now, hair cut short and reaching for the ceiling, red bow tie open, contrasting against the black dress shirt he has on. It’s a good look for him.
“Thanks. For trying to save me.” She says as he passes. It might be the first nice thing she’s said to Benvolio Montague since middle school.
“No problem, Capulet.” He offers her a barely there smile, before disappearing back into the ballroom.
She hears Juliet giggle and Rosaline grabs her cousins arm and drags her back to the ballroom. She’s had enough of Montague’s to last her a life time.
III.
“Oh, come on Capulet!”
“No. Leave me alone Montague I mean it.” She turns on her heel, turns away from Benvolio. They had ended up at the same college, and somehow, even though there were nearly 10,000 students, he was still able to find her and bother her.
Their arguments had become the stuff of legends, debates in classes, shouting matches on the quad, banishments from the library. It was like his entire life revolved around ruining hers.
“But I love you!” The words ring out on the quad, and nearly everyone stops their conversations. Rosaline can feel all their eyes on her. She slowly turns to him, finding a triumphant smirk on his lips.
She stalks back to him, anger rippling through her.
“We need to talk about this Capulet. Our cousins are dating and I know you hate it as much I do.”
The slap echoes around the entire quad. Someone cheers.
“I’m not going to sacrifice my cousin’s happiness because of your hatred for my family. No matter how much I don’t like it.” She takes a step away from him. “And next time you think about trying to embarrass me to get my attention, I’ll do a lot worse than slap you.”
He nods at her, holding his cheek, but there’s something akin to pride in eyes. She ignores it, walking away from him again, glaring at anyone that dares to stare at her.
Her phone vibrates, 4 hours later, once she’s texted Juliet again warning her about the Montagues, once she’s finished her homework, and once she’s replied to all the messages on Facebook about his confession of love and the slap heard around the campus.
I’m sorry
She has Benvolio’s number from the time when Romeo showed up to her room, drunk and tearful over Juliet, and she needed him to pick up his cousin. She had kept it in case of emergencies, and it seemed he had kept hers for when he fucked up.
Just don’t do it again.
Instead of answering he sends her a dog video and she tells him to fuck off, but adds a smiley face for good measure.
She never expected Benvolio Montague to be an ally in anything, but their mutual dislike of each other made them equally upset about their cousins’ romance. And they still fought at every corner, but every once and a while, usually on a weekend when they ended up at the same party thanks to their cousins, they would stop, he would call a truce and buy her a drink, and for a half hour they would be civil.
The fact that he could still make her smile, after what happened on the quad only made her realize that under different circumstances, under different last names, they probably could have been friends.
IV.
Juliet sighs, and grips Romeo’s hand tighter. The chapel is dingy, with the part of the sign falling off, but the two love birds are looking at it like it’s the most beautiful place in the world.
“Are we really going to allow them to do this?” Ben whispers, watching his cousin talking to the minister.
“Do we really have a choice?” Rosaline answers.
Romeo passes over the money, and Juliet’s entire being lights up, and for a moment, Rosaline forgets who they are. They are just four people, two of them so in love that they are going to elope in Vegas, and Juliet’s smile is all she needs to know there is no way she is going to stop this.
“I don’t think I could.” Ben says. He bumps his hip against hers, before smiling at her as he walks over to Romeo so they can start the ceremony.
They stand across from each other as their cousins say their vows, and he mouths the words I love you to her when Romeo says it to Juliet, with an eye roll and a smirk on his face.
They find their way to a club after the ceremony is over, and Romeo requests a slow song for them to dance too. Rosaline stands by the bar, watching her cousin laugh as her husband spins her in circles, and she’s filled with a sense of joy over the whole thing. It’s going to be a mess once their parents find out, but she’s never seen Juliet so happy.
“I love you.”
Ben’s arm slings his arm around her shoulder as he finds his way next to her. She turns to him, a question on her lips, but he just takes a sip of her drink.
“I’m testing out a theory.” He says in response to her look, ordering them both a round of shots.
“Which is?”
“It will feel different when you mean it.”
“Ben…”
“I told my last girlfriend I loved her, because I thought that was what I should do. Then she broke my heart. But I didn’t really love her. I mean, look at those two. You can tell they are in love, without even knowing them. I want to know how it will feel when I’m in love as they are.” He takes a shot, and drops his hand from her shoulder.
“So, I’m your guinea pig?” she asks.
“You know you mean more to me than that, Ros.” He presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek before melting into the crowd, leaving her stuck to the spot, wondering exactly what he means.
V.
The light filters into his bedroom, waking her up. His hand tightens on her waist, stopping her from moving.
She shouldn’t have spent the night. It was one of their rules. They had been sleeping together for months, and their rules made sure it became nothing else.
Rosaline doesn’t want to know what it feels like to wake up in Ben’s arms. She doesn’t want to know what he looks like first thing in the morning, doesn’t want to know if they’ll share lazy kisses or if he’ll attempt to make her breakfast.
Because if she knows that, the string holding her heart together will snap. If she knows what it’s like to be with Benvolio for more than just sex, she knows she will never recover.
“It’s too damn early Capulet.” He tugs her backward until she’s once again flush against him. She twists in his arms so she can look at him.
“That was your excuse for getting me to stay the night.”
He pops open a single eye, and pulls her forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss. “If it makes you stay…”
He kisses her until she can’t breathe, and his hand dances up skin, underneath his shirt. He sighs, pulling back, knotting a hand in her hair.
“God, Ros. I think I love you.”
Time freezes. She suddenly can’t breathe. This is different from any other time he had said those stupid words. She can feel the difference. Like he said at Romeo and Juliet’s wedding.
“Ros.” He searches her face, but she moves away from him, off the bed. She starts gathering her things, pulling on her shorts, searching for her bra.
“I’m sorry. I forgot, I had plans with Livia, she’s probably going to crazy, I –” she pauses, a moment, his hand reaching out for her.
“Ros, wait.”
She pulls away from him, reaching for her shoes.
“I have to go.” She stops looking for her bra and grabs her phone, walking out of his apartment before he can say anything else.
It’s her fault. She knows it’s her fault. She was the one who kissed him first, all those months ago, at Romeo and Juliet’s wedding reception Mr. Capulet insisted on throwing. She was the one who called him again, two weeks later because she tipsy and lonely. She was the one who came up with the rules, she was the one who broke them.
Benvolio Montague told her he loved her and she ran away.
“Ros, what the hell?” Juliet almost stumbles over her as she walks through the door, bags of groceries falling to the ground.
“Hi.” She says, picking up the dropped food, helping carry it to the kitchen.
Juliet waits until everything is safely on the counter before turning to her cousin. “Want to explain why you are sitting on my floor, attempting to kill me?” For a second, she looks exactly like her mother, about to demand an explanation for the girls being out to late, or how Rosaline had enough money to buy a new dress or why Livia was dating the man she had chosen for Juliet. But when she sees her, Juliet melts, rushing forward to pull her into a hug.
“What happened?”
“Ben,” she swallows, trying to collect her thoughts. “He told me he loved me.”
Juliet gasps, and pulls herself back. “What?”
Rosaline closes her eyes trying to steady herself. But she can’t. She’s been unsteady since he kissed her. She feels like she’s been unsteady ever since Benvolio Montague entered her life.
“We’ve been sleeping together for months, and this morning he told me he loved me.” She rushes it out in one breath, only opening her eyes once she gives Juliet a moment to take it in.
“Oh.” Juliet says. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”
“Umm. I kind of ran away.”
Juliet sucks in her teeth. She holds out a bag to Rosaline. They unpack the groceries silently, Juliet thinking about what to say.
“Now, tell me. Do you love him back?”
That’s the question that Rosaline had been afraid of. Feelings are complicated and messy. The last time she gave her heart to someone, he left, without so much as a goodbye, offering an apology through his sister.
Love made things brighter, more alive, but it also made everything hurt.
Because if she lets herself love Benvolio Montague, she’ll give him the power to break her.
“I – umm. Jules, I can’t get hurt again.”
“That’s not a no. Ros, love is, it’s magical and wonderful, but it also is work. Believe me, the first-time Romeo told me he loved me, I was ready to say goodbye to him forever, but look at us now Ros. We’re married. Living together, making it work. If you’re too afraid to love, you’ll never find it again.” Juliet grabs her hand. “You love him too, don’t you?”
It takes all her power to not break down crying in front of her cousin.
“You wouldn’t be acting like this if you didn’t.”
I.
Sometimes, Rosaline hates when her cousin is right. Most times, it leads to her doing something spontaneous and reckless.
Like now.
Standing outside of the very apartment she ran out of that morning, holding a bouquet of flowers and a pack of beer. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing, if he’ll even let her in, but if she doesn’t try, she knows it’s going to hurt for the rest of her life.
The door swings open, and he stands in front of her, freshly showered and shirtless. She watches the muscle in his jaw jump.
“What?” There’s a poison in his words, one that feels like a much-deserved slap in the face. She goes to open her mouth, but he holds up a hand.
“Did you – did you buy me flowers?”
She nods, holding them out to him. “And beer. And an apology.”
He steps aside so she can walk in.
“No one’s ever bought me flowers before.” He says, a smile teasing his lips.
“Umm.” She doesn’t really know what to say. She hadn’t thought past the part of him opening the door.
He delicately places the flowers on the counter and turns to her. Her mouth goes dry, and her palms begin to sweat.
“I found your bra.”
“I’m sorry.”
They both speak at the same time, and she cringes, because this worse than she imagined it would be.
“You can go first.” He says.
She inhales a breath and takes a step closer to him. “I’m sorry. About running away this morning. I wasn’t ready for it. I’ve always guarded my heart, and then Escalus shattered it last year. And me and you, we’re a bad example of a decent relationship and I wasn’t prepared. But that doesn’t mean it was okay for me to run away from you.”
He leans back on the counter, crossing his arms.
“But that doesn’t mean I want what we have to stop. In fact, I would like it to continue.”
He looks confused, and she realizes that she isn’t making a lot of sense, and whatever she’s saying in no way makes up for how she reacted when they woke up.
She sighs and moves until she’s less than a breath away from him. “Ben, what I’m trying to say is, this morning, you said you think you may love me, and I freaked.” She pauses, and tries to stop her hands from shaking. “But, it was wrong of me. And If you’ll have me, I am falling in love with you too.”
She bites her lips together, waiting for him to say something, anything.
“It was a bit of an asshole dropping it on you like that. I probably should have asked you on a real date first.” His hand comes up to cup her cheek.
“A real date might be nice.” She agrees. Her gaze drops down to his lips for a split second. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
She nods, bringing herself even closer to him.
“Wanna go on a real date? Tonight?” He asks. “Now?” His nose bumps against hers.
“Yes.” She takes a shaky breath, curling her hand around his neck. “Whenever you want.”
“Okay.” He kisses her, soft and quick. “Rose. I love you.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Shit, sorry, pretend I d- “
She presses a finger against his lips, silencing him.
“I love you too.”
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