#no gags no irony just…straight up pure love

[cto10121]

“Quand je suis en elle / C’est comme en chappelle” (When I am in her / It’s like being in a chapel) I love how the original French puts it, in no uncertain terms, that Romeo truly loves Juliet.

[professorspork]

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

-

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

-

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do. 

[cheswirls]

[ i rly wanted to write smth for them that was short n quick n then i thought ‘oh bt what abt this small supporting cast’ and then it grew a lil but its still a short oneshot tho longer than intended.. anyway, heres kurosemi. no knowledge of to aru is necessary for comprehension. ]

“this plant smells good.”

semi knows exactly what plant kuroo is referring to, because it’s the only semblance of one in the quad. “what? that plant is fake.”

“oh?” kuroo pauses, bending down to sniff again, semi doesn’t know. “did you spray it with something or . . ?”

he stops writing when his hand jerks, a stray line of red ink stretching two centimeters farther than it should. his head snaps up away from the offending mistake so he can direct his anger in a glare at his research par- affiliate. “stop joking around!”

kuroo’s expression properly adjusts. the slant on his eyebrows is heavy -they’ve become so straight it would be possible to balance small objects on them. semi’s not entirely sure where the analogy comes from, or why he thinks it’s appropriate to the situation, but he doesn’t bother to take it back, even if he’s the only one hearing it.

anyway. kuroo deadpans. complete with a deep frown. he reaches a hand up to pluck one of the daisy’s petals, and it comes off easy, much to semi’s utter shock. “this,” he says, with as little inflection as possible, “is not plastic.”

•

semi devolves into panic, but it’s the first time kuroo has seen the plant, so a bit of explanation is necessary to garner any sympathy. unable to concentrate on anything else, semi moves the thick notebook he’s been scribbling in for the better part of an hour until it falls on the floor, half-buries his face into his ink-stained hands, and starts rambling just loudly and just coherently enough for kuroo to understand.

semi is a workaholic. his one-track mind is on his research. he can’t take care of anything but himself, and barely manages that at times. he’d acquired the house plant as a gag gift, because he couldn’t kill something that was fake. and, true to form, he’d had the daisies for five months without lifting a finger to their care.

five months.

but they were alive.

they were alive in perfect condition.

understandably, after hearing all this, he garners kuroo’s sympathy.

kuroo panics.

•

kuroo tetsurou is born in tokyo. academy city piques his interest, but he can’t see himself being a test subject. he works hard at school, and works hard at university, and only then does he apply for a graduate school inside the walls. purely for research. he is in no way a subject, nor does he desire to be.

semi eita is born in the northern tohoku region. academy city was constructed in the capital of the country before he was born. his interest was fleeting, but a chance encounter his third semester in undergrad changes that. he applies for a research position inside the special ward and is granted the transfer his fifth semester of undergrad. he is not interested in subjecting himself to strange drugs or practices, or in trying to raise his level at all. he’s not an esper.

and yet, somehow, he’s kept a small houseplant alive for five months with absolutely no conscious care. he thought it was fake, for crying out loud. the thing was only good for looking at, and that was only on particularly bad days.

semi eita is stressed.

•

“of course they found out,” kuroo grumbles, looking up to cast daichi a particularly scathing gaze. he reaches across the counter to wrestle the espresso from daichi’s fingers and downs the shot in one go. (the wrestling is not necessary, nor is it true; daichi had been handing him the shot to begin with; he simply took it with a minimum amount of nervous fumbling.) “i haven’t seen him all week.”

daichi retrieves the shot glass and holds on to it, reluctant to refill it. again. “won’t that hold up your research?”

“it already is,” kuroo admits. “not like it matters; not like they care. semi’s an important specimen. they’ll do what they want.”

“and what he wants?”

kuroo casts him another dull look and makes grabby-hands at the shot glass daichi has regrettably refilled. again. he passes it off.

“doesn’t matter much anymore,” kuroo mutters, chucking his shot right after. the words aren’t necessary to say aloud, and yet he does anyway, so daichi figures he must feel a particular sort of way about the whole thing.

•

“i don’t think it’s that bad,” yachi tells him, a couple weeks later. “sure, it can be intense, but it’s a lot of fun, too!” she smiles, sunny, as if contrasting kuroo’s deep-seated scowl. 

but here was the thing about yachi hitoka. she had been here the longest out of any of kuroo’s friends. she went to middle school here. she was level two. her esper powers were, to an average person, out-of-this-world impressive.

here was the thing about yachi hitoka. she’d grown up here. she was a success. she wanted it.

(kuroo thinks about semi, coming home to kuroo’s place instead of his own, eyes rimmed with red and hands shaking and teeth chattering, unable to fathom being alone in the dark and alone in his own thoughts and alone with all the shadows that could morph around him and alone to dwell in the negative emotions and painful memories and dreaded terrors of what was next, next, next-

semi, alone with the daisies to watch him from the corner.)

semi had kept a plant he thought was not real from dying, somehow. being an esper was not a dream of his. developing esper powers was not a desire. subjecting himself to what the city deemed necessary was in no way part of his plan when he showed up several years prior.

yachi hitoka started the power development curriculum at eleven.

semi eita was forced into it at twenty-four.

semi had kept a plant alive; some nights kuroo wished he had never mentioned it.

•

nine knocks come at rapid succession on his front door. kuroo knows this, climbing the stairs to said door, because only one person knocked like that these days.

also, because he had stopped near the top step to watch semi do it, surprised to see him there before kuroo himself, surprised at a lot of things and not surprised at all, all at once

semi is barefoot. today, he’s not breathing in odd intervals. his natural hair is more pronounced at the roots than the last time kuroo had seen him. he appears to be clean-shaven, unlike the last time kuroo had seen him. his eyes are wild, when he finally catches sight of kuroo behind him; his eyes fade to calm, when he finally catches sight of kuroo behind him.

he steps forward, bare feet loud on the floor, and kuroo has him wrapped in a hug before he’s even made it the rest of the way up the stairs. 

(he marvels at how, for just a brief moment, they stand at equal height)

semi never wants to talk about it. kuroo isn’t a therapist, and on some level, doesn’t think he can handle it. doesn’t think he can withstand the boy he loves breaking apart in front of him.

but sometimes semi writes. just as a release for his thoughts. to keep from having them pent up. and it helps, he tells kuroo.

sometimes kuroo reads them. sometimes, even rarer, he’ll read them all the way through.

it’s more of the same, usually. needles and strange drugs and pain pain pain that they insist will fade. electrodes and wires and brain experiments and nerve tests and practical experiments and live tests and plants and small animals and human cells and

semi collapses into kuroo and cries pathetic tears for someone suffering so much. kuroo feels helpless. all he can do is pull the boy he’s in love with close and whisper in his ear things he thinks are comforting. all he can think is that he has to be brave, for them both.

there’s not a name or classification for eita’s esper power.

eita. kuroo pauses on that thought. ah, i see.

kuroo runs his callused fingers through eita’s two-toned, choppy hair. he skims over fresh raises in the skin, tries not to tread too close to skull anymore. eita stiffens but relaxes quicker, burying his face more firmly in kuroo’s chest.

kuroo gets brave, bending close.

“eita,” he whispers. “you’re safe here. no one is taking you from me. you don’t have to grip so tight.”

eita’s grip grows slack, then tightens over the course of kuroo’s words, then releases entirely. he lifts his head, eyes huge and wet and fixed on kuroo and kuroo alone.

“eita,” kuroo says again, raising a hand to cup his face, run a thumb under dried tear tracks. 

eita bends closer, sucks in a breath, releases it against kuroo’s lips.

kuroo acquiesces.

•

“this is a dream,” semi mutters, glancing up from the results again. across the way, kuroo lifts his face from the microscope.

“this is dull.”

semi scoffs. “i meant overall. being here. doing this.” with you, he doesn’t say. “being here,” he says again.

“you’re running out of words.”

“hey.”

kuroo looks up again. semi has that look. the one that makes kuroo want to draw him close, call him ei-

“come over tonight. you haven’t seen my new place yet.”

kuroo hums, pretending to think it over. “got anything exciting?”

“no.” semi snorts. “i’m here all the time. no use in exciting. you’ll be the best thing there.”

the turn of phrase does something to kuroo’s heart that has him agreeing.

• 

kuroo has never called eita eita. 

kuroo is an only child. the one other person he’s ever addressed by their first name is daichi. semi eita is semi eita. research partner. assistant. what have you.

but it brings eita comfort, in a world of suffering, to be called such.

so kuroo calls him eita, and some days he lies and says it will all go back to normal. some days he believes himself when he says everything will be okay.

the daisies sit, unblemished. fresh. alive and well.

eita festers in kuroo’s arms.

•

semi nudges him on the way there. “actually, i have a couple decorations. housewarming things. flowers.”

“oh! that does sound interesting.”

“don’t get your hopes up. it’s all plastic.”

•

one day, eita’s esper ability gets a name:

repair.

kuroo laughs. what irony.

eita laughs, and bends close to suggest a synonym.

kuroo near chokes when he says tetsurou so easily.

[whump-me]

"Forced to watch" (an demon getting punished for falling in love with an angel, so they hurt the angel?)

My first @badthingshappenbingo fill! This one is also for @justplainwhump, who requested “forced to watch” with characters who are more than friends.

Feel free to send in requests! I’m don’t write other people’s characters, but can write whatever type of character you like. Red checks have been filled, yellow lightbulbs have requests waiting.

This one got away from me a little bit - I definitely didn’t intend it to come out as long as it did…

—

The demon stretched lazily as a noise from the kitchen woke them. Amazing, how they still found themselves waking up with a smile every day. They had thought they would have grown bored with playing human long before now. But how could they get bored when the universe, in its generous irony, had sent them such an endlessly interesting companion?

“How about breakfast in bed?” they called. “Food is, as always, optional.”

No answer.

They frowned. That was an invitation that wasn’t often turned down. “Hey, you okay out there?”

Still no answer. Frowning, they freed themselves from the covers and opened the bedroom door.

The first thing they saw was the angel facedown on the floor, wrists and ankles bound not with rope but with chains of hellfire that had already begun to blacken the skin underneath. The angel wasn’t visibly gagged, but seemed unable to open their mouth to speak—or to scream, even as they contorted in visible agony.

Through other eyes, the man standing above the angel might have looked like no one. Just another smarmy asshole in a suit. But the demon didn’t need their eyes to feel the power radiating off him, as hot and deadly as a nuclear explosion. And if that hadn’t been enough, they couldn’t ignore the way their own body seemed to twist and warp under the skin as their entire being called out to the one who owned them.

Satan was standing in their apartment.

The demon lowered their eyes to the ground. “I’ll return to my post immediately.” They didn’t let themselves feel anger, or sorrow, or bitterness at the thought of a lifetime in Hell remembering these few brief years of happiness. They allowed themselves only resignation. They had always known, deep down, that it couldn’t last forever, as much as they had tried to convince themselves otherwise.

Satan’s laughter cut through them like a volley of knives. “Did you think it would be that easy? After you let this into your bed?” He kicked the angel hard in the side, sending them into the wall with a sickening thud. “After you turned your heart to something beyond my service? You will return—but not yet.”

He regarded the angel thoughtfully before turning back to the demon.

“You,” he said, cradling the demon’s chin in his hands, “are a child of Hell, created to my specifications like so many of your kind. You never lost Heaven, and if you were ever allowed to cross its threshold, you would turn away by choice. You don’t belong in that world. In their world.”

He bent down to slowly stroke the angel’s wing. Trapped between him and the wall, the angel shuddered, but couldn’t so much as try to squirm away.

“I, on the other hand… I still remember how it felt to fall. I chose that fate for myself, and even so, thousands of years later, the pain is still my most vivid memory.” His hand tightened around the delicate wing.

A moment ago, the demon had been resigned to their fate. Now they couldn’t breathe. “You have no reason to punish them. I’m the one who disobeyed.”

“I have no intention of punishing this creature,” Satan assured them. “They mean nothing to me.” He yanked out a handful of feathers and let them float to the floor. “Everything I do to them will be solely to punish you for your disobedience.”

They had never been one to beg. They were willing to start now. “Please. I’ll do anything you want. I—”

Satan made a small gesture, and the angel’s mouth unsealed. Their scream cut off the rest of the demon’s plea.

The angel met the demon’s eyes. “It’s all right,” they said raggedly, even though every word clearly cost them something. “I’ll be fine.”

No. No, it was most certainly not all right. There had to be something the demon could do—some way to stop what they knew was coming—

“Do you like their wings? Does it make you jealous to see what you can never have?” Satan ran a finger along the base of a wing, his expression wistful. “Or do you simply take pleasure in seeing them nobly soaring through the sky like the proud creature they are?”

He grabbed the wing roughly at its base. The angel tried to hide their flinch, but didn’t manage it quite well enough. At least not for someone who knew them so well.

“What will they be without their wings, I wonder?” Satan mused. “Bound to the earth, broken and useless. Forever remembering their former glory. They will never be whole again, after this. Never again the creature you loved.”

The angel swallowed. They set their jaw, trying to be brave, biting back a scream or a protest. But they couldn’t hide the raw panic in their eyes.

“But I don’t think we’re quite ready for that yet.” The hand grasping the wing made a small motion. The snap of bone seemed much louder than it should have been, almost louder than the scream that followed.

With his other hand, Satan yanked the angel’s head up to look into their eyes. “Have you ever even felt real pain before? Or have you lived the same coddled life as the rest of your kind?”

Pleas spilled from the demon’s mouth. “I’ll take all the pain for them, and more. Torture me for a thousand years, imprison me until the end of time, just let them go.”

“Don’t worry about me.” The demon could see the force of will it had taken for the angel to stop screaming, let alone to force out those few words. “I can take it.”

“Can you? Let’s test that theory.” Satan snapped another bone, drawing another scream from the angel’s lips.

Through the sound of their love’s agony, the demon could barely think straight enough to keep their words coherent. “Whatever you want—I’ll do whatever you want—just stop this, please stop—”

“You disgust me. I expected more from one of my servants.” Satan regarded the demon with a look of deepest contempt before turning to the angel. “You mean to tell me you actually love this useless, snivelling creature?”

Even now, even here, the angel managed a soft smile. “More than my own life.”

If the screams hadn’t already broken the demon’s heart, that would have done it. Because if not for that love, the angel would still be flying free and proud, somewhere far from this place.

“Ah.” An answering smile, this one cold and cruel, played at the edges of Satan’s lips. “But do you love them more than you love your god?”

And the angel hesitated.

“Answer me.” Satan shot a burst of hellfire at the angel, letting it singe their ear. Instinctively, the angel tried to flap away, crying out as the movement sent a fresh burst of pain through the broken wing bones. Satan didn’t give them a chance to recover; he kicked the angel onto their side, then stepped on one of the wings to hold it in place while he began to burn the other.

He cut off the angel’s howl of pain with a slap to the face. “I don’t want your pathetic shrieking. I want an answer.” The smell of smoke and burned feathers filled the room. “Answer me.”

“No.” The quiet whimper felt louder than all the screams that had come before. “No… not… more.”

Oh.

The demon had known, of course. Even if they had never thought about it, even if they had never let themselves think about it, they had always known. Angels were what they were, and theirs was no exception. And an angel’s devotion to their god would always come before any mere love affair.

But the words still slid into their heart like a knife.

Satan’s full attention was on the demon now as he drank in their reaction. “It hurts to hear what you really mean to them, doesn’t it?” he said softly. “Would you still make all those grand sacrifices for them, knowing the place you hold in their heart?”

But Satan had chosen the wrong question, because the answer came easily. “Of course,” they said, meeting the angel’s eyes. They felt the truth of their words as they spoke them. “They have a bigger heart than anyone I’ve ever known. That heart has room for more than one love, and more than one loyalty. Even if they only gave me the smallest fraction of their heart, it would be more than what something like me is capable of.”

“Then how unfortunate that someone so much worthier than you is forced to suffer for your mistakes.” Satan removed his foot from the angel’s wing. “As a reward for your honesty, creature of God, I won’t drag this out any longer.”

Before the demon could begin to process what was happening, Satan grabbed the base of the burned wing with both hands and tore.

The wing ripped free of the flesh as easily as if he were a human child tearing a wing off a butterfly. The angel’s screams were like nothing the demon had heard before, in Hell or on earth. If the pure essence of pain had been transformed into sound, it would have sounded exactly like that. When the screaming stopped, the demon thought—hoped—the angel had lost consciousness. But the angel’s eyes were still open, wild and unfocused but still cruelly present.

Satan let the wing fall to the floor, where it lay in the growing puddle of blood. He bent to run a bloodstained hand through the angel’s hair and down the one remaining wing. “These aren’t just for flying, you know. Your wings are what bind you to Heaven. Without them, you’re cut off from everything that gives your life meaning.” He turned to the demon. “One more to go. Would you like to do the honors? Ensure that this one no longer has any rivals for their affection?”

The demon almost gagged at the thought.

“Very well. Then I’ll do it—my way.” This time he didn’t tear the wing away all at once. Instead he ripped it from the angel’s back little by little, staring into the demon’s eyes the whole time. The angel was beyond screaming now—their mouth opened as they thrashed helplessly, but no sound came out except a series of strangled gasps.

“Just a little more, and they’ll lose the thing they love above all else,” said Satan, tugging at the wing slowly, almost lazily. “Were those few years worth it, to do this to the one you love?”

“I’m sorry,” the demon whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

The angel’s mouth opened and closed as they tried to answer. But they were too far gone to speak. The demon wasn’t even sure how much they understood anymore.

And then it was done. The wings lay on the floor, useless now, obscene. Satan gestured, and the angel’s bonds disappeared, although they didn’t seem to notice. He kicked the angel aside like they were a crumpled fast food wrapper lying on the sidewalk.

The demon rushed to the angel, stroking their hair, murmuring meaningless reassurances. The angel trembled, making soft desperate mewling sounds, staring at nothing. Did they even know the demon was there? The demon doubted it.

“I’m sorry,” the demon whispered again. “Forgive me.” Then they stood and held out their hands to Satan, preparing to be dragged back to Hell. It would almost be a relief—no torture that awaited them there could be worse than this.

But Satan shook his head. “Stay. Patch them up, as best you can. Try and make them whole again, knowing that you will always fail.” He smiled his cruel smile. “Watch them try to pretend that you’re enough.”

He disappeared, leaving the angel and the demon alone together.

[dmydfilmreviews]

MARVEL MOMENTS

 So what they really did, as well as making a good load of films, was actually make a vast tapestry of genius interwoven moments like flicking through a big comic book! Ten years! Twenty something movies! A load of rubbish images at the end of the list because the last three films weren’t officially out on Blu Ray! Avengers assssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Tony Builds the First Suit

 Really it was a stroke of brilliance to start the whole shebang with Iron Man the self-made superhero. The backbone of the whole universe is that of Tony making himself and that all kicks off here, in a sequence that’s hugely thematically satisfying given what comes later. There’s also the fact that back in the day all this construction stuff was just fucking cool, a Nolan-lite bedrock for a blend of realism and fantasy that comic-book cinema had never quite nailed before. Seeing Tony improve his tech step-by-step is a quiet pleasure of these movies, the suits getting more and more outlandish but staying absolutely believable, just like the films, and that all kicks off here with one guy and a non-magical hammer.

Pepper Pulls Out Tony’s Heart

 I noted these all down before Endgame, honestly. Sob. It was always his story really. The best example of the foundational relationship of the MCU: They finish each other’s sentences!

‘Truth is… I am Iron Man.’

 They knew what they’d got from the very first. This ballsy coda sets the tone for the whole MCU, one of backed-up swagger, a willingness to fuck with the source material in the name of story and the general feeling that Robert Downey Jr. was God. All in like two hours. That they flipped the egotistically iconic line into an era-defining declaration of responsibility, growth and heroism a decade later is nothing short of remarkable.

Hulk and Betty in the Rain

 It’s uh… it’s a nice comic-book visual of a classic comic book romance, I guess? Look, Hulk came a long way later, but his forgotten love for Betty was the closest they ever came to the source material outside of the Hulk generally smashing and being awesome. It was sweet!

The Bit Where Hulk Suplexes a Giant Zombie Wolf on the Rainbow Bridge of Asgard

 wait was this in the Incredible Hulk

I’ve Successfully Privatised World Peace!’ ‘Fuck you, Mr Stark.’

 They got Garry Shandling in these movies!

The Suitcase Suit

 Now that is a cool-ass adaptation.

Black Widow Kicks Asses

 Yeah, after a whole movie of being reductive eye-candy she was still reductive eye-candy here. But the scene as a whole’s basically a perfect realisation of her moves in the comics, and showed Marvel were capable of doing someone who wasn’t Iron Man. Then they did EVERYYYYOONNNNNNEEE bonus points for Happy taking out that one guy and yelling ‘I got him!’

Tony and Rhodey in the Japanese Gardens

 Look, they just look cool, OK? No one said this was going to be deep.

Tony and Pepper as the Stark Expo Explodes

 They haven’t managed a lot of great romance, but this one hella works: Tony’s overblown mess of a movie expo exploding behind the true love of his life is a visual so great that Shane Black nicked it wholesale for the climax of Iron Man Three: Christmas in Croydon.

The Frost Giant Throwdown

 Wait, what’s happening? I thought these were the movies where Jeff Bridges rode a Segway? Are we in SPAAAAACCCCCEEEE?

Thor Can’t Pull It Off

 Out of the big three Thor’s arc of mythology to humanity might be the deepest and most satisfying of all. That starts here with his tearful inability to be worthy of his father, his world and, crucially, himself, leading directly into the first great Thor/Loki exchange, then a whole host of movies that eventually put him through the emotional wringer to self-acceptance. Hopefully?

Thor and Loki Battle on the Rainbow Bridge

 Yeah, it looks kind of goofy, but this is pure sixties Kirby, shorn of the irony the series would develop later. Beautiful.

Erskine Points To Cap’s Heart

 That’s it. That’s the character.

The Star Spangled Man!

 Who’ll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berliiiin?

That Whole War Montage That Ends With Bucky Falling From The Train

 Just smash after smash after smash of wartime Cap goodness that we’d never see again, ending with the ‘death’ that’d define the rest of his story. Steve lost as much as Thanos in his quest for peace but, y’know, he wasn’t a total fucking intergalactic dick about it.

‘I gotta put her in the water!’

 Man alive he waited for that date... whether you think the ending of Endgame ruins the moment somewhat (it doesn’t. sort of), this was still the biggest heart-tugger in the MCU at that point, and defined the characters of Cap and Peggy for years to come. Watch Agent Carter! Just bloody watch it!

'Lemme Put You On Hold’

 The stand out moment of The Avengers is basically all of it, but let’s start with the moment Black Widow finally becomes a character, a sequence of broad-strokes skill from Scarlett Johansson and Joss Whedon that begged for a movie she finally got way too long later. Bonus points for possibly the greatest Coulson reaction shot in a history of great reaction shots.

The Helicarrier Ascends

 OK, shit – this is series is big now.

The Whole of Stuttgart

 Whedon’s love of classical posh entertainment is seen in Angel’s superior ballet episode and his fondness for Sondheim, and he even gets a bit of the ol’ jewellery rattling in here in a perfectly pitched Loki-loving sequence that culminates in some fantastic bits for Cap before Iron Man AC/DC’s all over the place. This is where the comic book stuff really kicks off.

‘YOU COME HOME!’

 This Hemsworth’s fella’s really got something...

Forest Bro Down

 Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. The first real Avengers mash-up is just wonderful. This is where the wish-fulfilment really begins, in a quiet clearing, where three superheroes nearly beat the shit out of each other in classic comic-book style. The Avengers assembled.

The Whole Fuckin’ Helicarrier Sequence

 An absolute masterpiece of blockbuster juggling that had never been done before, this could be the third act of any other film. Over what plays out weirdly like a piece of theatre we get terrifying Hulks, mewling quims and awesome heroics, all expertly laced with wonderful character mash-ups and action we’d never seen before. Then Coulson dies. This is what Joss Whedon does.

‘There was an idea…’

 Fuck shit yeah there was, and it made for a hell of an Infinity War trailer six years later.

ALL OF NEW YORK

 Yep, all of it, but if we’re being picky it’s Hulk v Loki for the comedy side, the tracking shot for the action. As a sequence it’s never been bettered in the MCU, even in the open-mouthed joy-gush of Infinity War and Endgame. FIGHT ME

Go Fish

 Iron Man Three is a wonderful movie that works best as the sum of its parts, but there’s one bit that’s up there with the pantheon: the sky-diving rescue above the bay is such a joyous subversion of the usual third-act super-fisticuffs that it’s like something out of a 70’s Superman movie, only with a hilarious capper at the end where Iron Man explodes under a truck. Beep beep!

Running the Lemurian Star

 The Russo Brother’s action calling-card for their incredible MCU run, this sets up their vision of Cap’s super-subtle-super-serum-super-moves. From the off it’s a game changer in the way action’s shot across the MCU, clean-cut raid-alikes becoming the order of the day. AND THEN HE FIGHTS BATROC ZE LEAPER

Elevator Throwdown

 Yeah, yeah, we all know the actual bit in the elevator that’s spoofed to tremendous effect come Endgame, but remember this sequence ends with Cap TAKING DOWN A FUCKING QUINJET SINGLE-HANDED. The look on his face at the end says it all.

The Winter Soldier Street Fight

HE FLICKS A KNIFE MID PUNCH

Come and Get Your Love

 We’d seen a lot of cool shit from the MCU by this point, but this was something else again. It’s funny! It’s funny as fuck! What the fuck is this movie? And again, they know their own best bits: the return to this in Endgame is top drawer. What a moron.

The Kyln Sequence

 This whole breakout is the Guardians at their very best; squabbling in space, reluctant teamwork, loads of cool shit and leg theft. The bit where it all goes anti-grav is a treat.

WE ARE GROOT

 That’s it. That’s the movie.

…Stark…

 It’s a shame they didn’t delve deeper into Scarlet Witch’s hatred for the man who murdered her parents, but her barely contained rage is the keystone for Age of Ultron: deeper, nastier, more questioning of it’s heroes and their heroism. This one they brought on all by themselves.

Sun’s Gettin’ Real Low

 Yeah, maybe it’s for the best the slightly bumbled Hulktasha relationship was forgotten about, but this moment was pivotal in the character development of both. Beautifully shot, and leads to a primo Ragnarok gag.

Lift That Hammer

 You genuinely could have made a whole movie of these characters hanging out at an open bar. The Stan cameo’s great, the War Machine story bit gets an Endgame alien planet boost much later, but it’s the drunken worthiness competition that’s the real highlight, a seemingly fun throwaway that actually almost single-handedly sets up the whole character of Vision and the most fist-pumping moment of Endgame, a movie nearly entirely composed of fist-pumping moments.

Hulk vs Hulkbuster

 Pure comic-book wish fulfilment again, and how. From Hulk spitting out a tooth to Tony desperately pleading ‘go to sleep go to sleep go to sleep’, this mad clash of science pals knocks every Transformers movie straight through a freshly-bought-building. Veronica!

Well Done.

 Alright, Vision’s no one’s favourite Avenger, but he’s one who’s the satisfying product of several movie plots, one beloved supporting AI and the combined brains, magic and cool red capes of his team. Whedon performs his own mad-skillz level script trick to make us accept this fucking weirdo, first by giving him Jarvis’ voice, then having him stare out at a world and see his reflection in it, then having him lift an unliftable character-establishment hammer. None of this could be done by any other film series.

The Geometry of Belief

 Ultron’s climactic church-a-maggedon is short but perfect, a swirling mass of splash-page insanity that culminates in a glorious trinity of Vision, Iron Man and Thor blasting the shit out of their mad son like a magic triangle. The Avengers at their peak.

Vision and Ultron Have a Chat

 Whedon pops out these gems of detached humanism from time to time, and his sundown final exchange between The Avenger’s success and failure is a doozy. The most poetic little scene in the whole MCU, voiced by two creatures who look like nightmarish dildos. ‘A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts’ is an all-timer.

Big Bathtub

 Ant Man’s bedrock might be its family values, but it’s the shrinking that makes it stand out. The first time Scott drops into tiny-town is a Pixar-esque fun-burst akin to Stephen Strange’s nutso jump into infinity later, with deadly bath taps, thunderclap vacuum cleaners and mid-day apartment raves (?) all bringing a new level of threat and adventure to a series already teeming with variety. They should carry these ones on foreverrrrr

Cassie’s Room

 There’s something about this scene that sums up Scott’s whole character and hopefully sets up his daughter for future ant shenanigans: he is (was) unique as a hero with a family, and no matter how many Pym Particles he stuffs into his suit he’s always looked like a giant to his daughter. Plus, y’know, Thomas the Tank Engine.

Some Guy Crashes a Car at Night

 The catalyst for the great middle schism. Civil War is a masterclass of twisting, gut-churning reveals, and this is the quiet moment that starts it all.

QUEENS

 The perfect Marvel character, introduced into the perfect realisation of the Marvel Universe, perfectly.

Running Into Each Other At The Airport

LITTLE MAN IS BIG NOW I’M CLINT WE HAVEN’T MET YET I DON’T CARE WHERE YOU FROM KID QUEENS BROOKLYN I’M YOUR CONSCIENCE WE HAVEN’T SPOKEN IN A WHILE YOU GUYS KNOW THAT OLD MOVIE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK HOW OLD IS THIS KID ETC ETC OH MY GOD MY BRAIN HAS EXPLODED

Cap vs Iron Man

 ‘I don’t care. He killed my mom.’  

The Big Brain Burst

 They keep doing bits to expand themselves, and this is one of the best, with the most potential for the future. Fleeting, but dazzling.

New York Mirror Fest

 If the next Strange movies delve into this deranged nonsense then they could end up the greatest of all of them. This is the tip of the iceberg, and it’s still unlike anything else being done in mainstream cinema.

Mr Blue Sky

 In a movie that frequently reaches big and misses, at least it hits the spot at the beginning. This glorious celebration of family, space-craziness and genre subversion is everything Guardians does best. The Gamora / Groot bit is adorable.

Peter’s Civil War Adventure

 The perfect tone-setter for the story’s most-average joe, this ground-level view of the universe’s biggest clash acts as a whippet quick intro to Peter Parker’s world in the big bad MCU. It’s always a thrill to see him where he belongs.

The Homage to Getting Buried Under a Tonne of Crap

 Homecoming’s riffs on classic Spidey-lore are generally pretty subtle, but when it comes time to show what Peter’s really made of Watts rips directly from the best, first with the iconic Parker/Spidey face split and then with him holding up a whole fucking building like he’s nerd Hulk or something. The added ‘come on Spider-Mans’ are the adorable icing on the homage-o-cake.

Anytime That Immigrant Song Plays

Another!

Thor vs Hulk

 Yeah, it’s not perfect and it’s a little CGIey. But it’s Thor fighting the Hulk in a fucking galactic gladiator arena place run by Jeff Goldblum and it smashes and it’s full of fun callbacks to previous movies. Yes! That’s what it feels like!

Thor and Loki Do Get Help

 The perfect encapsulation of Waititi’s irreverent-but-with-tonnes-of-heart freshgasm on the story of Thor, this bit of hilarious dumb shit acts as amusing action beat and neat character resolution all in one. They’re friends again! They’re brothers! Thor throws him around like a rolled up carpet!

What Are You The God of Again?

 Oh right, so he’s the best Avenger now.

Killmonger in the Afterlife

 The bloody heart of the most emotional Marvel movie, when Erik Killmonger enters the Wakandan afterlife he finds himself in his own tiny Compton apartment, exiled with his father forever with the plains of eternity just out of reach beyond the window. Heartbreaking, and brilliant.

Thanos Arrives

 The opening of Infinity War is another example of their absolute mastery of tone; after the megaton funblast of Ragnarok we’re thrown into the end of that movie being ripped apart, before Thanos appears, dragging a battered Thor into frame, beats seven shades of green shit out the Hulk and murders two beloved supporting characters, all without breaking a sweat. If you weren’t excited before you were now.

New York Tussle

 The opening New York section of Infinity War is all very clever, acting as the only grounding Earthy moment in what’s a pretty out-there narrative in terms of existential stakes. You get Tony and Wong helping people off the sidewalk and Strange winking after halting the space-death-machine, but from there on out it’s full-bore comic-book smackdown fun, clashing characters who’ve never met and providing top-drawer banter about wizards and children’s parties. This is the page, up there on screen.

BRING ME THANOS!

 BRING ME THANOS!

The Thanos Fight

 Jesus fucking Christ. Up there with the end of Avengers and the Civil War airport battle, this is a perfect realisation of superhero action, with a bigger dose of high-level insanity courtesy of the Infinity Stones and Doctor Strange. Sublimely realised, incredibly satisfying, with real weight and thought put into the spectacle, it’s also fantastic in the narrative of the film, the culmination of its themes of desperation and inevitability. The first time you saw them try to rip off the gauntlet was unbearable.

The Snap

 Well, yeah. You’ll never get back the first time you saw this. And imagine seeing it as a fucking kid.#

Just a Girl

 Sure the big level-up CGI fest at the end is good, but it’s the comedy smackdown on the Kree ship that’s the most satisfying part of Captain Marvel, the shit-eating joy on Carol’s face as she discovers she’s way more powerful than the assholes who’ve been holding her back. It’s corny sure, but it’s hella fun.

Thor Goes For The Head

 Endgame is a shocking, disorientating blur to begin with, all the characters you loved acting in strange, desperate ways in a super-hero version of post-traumatic stress disorder. Tony’s meltdown is bad enough, but it’s when Thor just straight up fucking murders Thanos that you know this is going to get dark and serious. It doesn’t, it remembers it’s a Marvel movie, but the shot of him walking out into the blurred alien sun, cape aflutter, is a fitting goodbye to a more innocent time of heroics.

Ant Man and Cassie

 A moment that could be worthy of a whole movie itself, a desperate Scott Lang meeting his five-years-older daughter gives a joke character a serious moment in the same way Infinity War did for Guardians. It’s very odd, very sweet and very Marvel.

Love You 3000

 Morgan H. Stark is almost a little too on the nose as a wrap-up for Tony, but hell, she’s still sweet as all hell and a perfect capper to his story of fatherhood and responsibility. It’s a mark of the work they’ve put in that we’ll almost immediately accept the tired trope of kid-taking-over-mantle when she inevitably puts on the armour in a few years.

Steve and Peggy / Tony and Howard

 This is the bit in Endgame where I finally started tearing up: a lot of it is too-neat fan-service, but fuck it, they’ve put in so much effort that it works. This is the scene where you realise both of these long arcs are coming to an end, the resolution of Steve quietly making his decision to go back to Peggy and Tony getting the closer of discussing parenthood with his unknowing father. It’s corny sure, but so are comic books, and setting the whole bit at the height of seventies Marvel Comics mania is a loving nod to the imaginations that made all these crazy possibilities possible.

Widow and Hawkeye

 There’s a theme here. All of these moments are kind of cheesy and rely heavily on callbacks to previous bits… but at the moment it doesn’t matter because ENDGAME WOW. Maybe we’ll look back at it as a corny misstep, but for the moment, Clint and Tasha having one last, ludicrously overblown tussle for who gets to live is a sweet capper that never goes as deep as the others because they’re supporting characters. It still stings, and it’s a neat mirror to Gamora and Thanos in Infinity War. The red’s gone from her ledger! It’s on the rocks! Urrrgh

Nebula Kills Herself

 Again, they’re so good that they can spend a big chunk of time in what’s ostensibly the last big movie for their most beloved characters on making a lesser character beloved. Endgame spotlights Nebula even more than Infinity War did Gamora, using her self-hatred and fear of her father for compelling, wibbly-wobbly plot and character beats. The resolution of her story and her newfound place with her team should make for a whole different Guardians before we even get to Fortnite-Thor joining up.

Cap Wields The Hammer

 ‘I KNEW IT!’

Thanos’ Army

 One last escalation of scale. When Thanos’ army finally arrives it’s like something out of those apocalyptic Turner paintings, where the hordes of a ship-wrecked hell confront eternity under skies ripped from heaven. Only this time they’re facing one guy called Steve, and they’re fucked. Incredible.

Avengers… Assemble

 It almost lives up to what you always had in your head. The Marvel Universe, somehow done right.

Tony Hugs Peter Back

Awwww!

New Avengers Run the Gauntlet

 A surprising amount of Endgame’s grand finale is given over to the future hopes; while Strange gets stuck in with holding back a Biblical flood it’s up to Black Panther to grab the Infinity Gauntlet from Clint in a delightful callback to Civil War, before embarking on an intense relay race across the entire battlefield that begins with Scarlet Witch crushing the shit out of Thanos’ testicles and ends with Captain Marvel engaging the Mad Titan in a bone-crushing show of super-strength. And along the way if finds time to have Peter Parker dragged through the air by Thor’s hammer which was thrown by Captain America before landing on a Pegasus flown by Valkryie across an exploding sky of alien whales. Maybe the most satisfying run of action since the first Avengers.

I am Iron Man

 It was always going to be him really. Bonus points for Downey Jr. originally telling Thanos to ‘Fuck off’. Did anyone else keep thinking he was going to wake up and quip and everything would be OK? That’s how you make movies.

The Funeral

 It looks a little weird actually, like they weren’t all on set. But they were! The Marvel Universe again, holy smokes.

The Kiss

 Now that’s how you end ten years and twenty one movies. They’re movies! It was romantic! It was exciting! It was fun!

For TEN FUCKING YEARS.

Swing a Ding Ding Sir

 After five movies of fresh shit they've finally starting dumping some classic Spider-Man on us; the Euro stuff's fun and all, but it's Far From Home delirious climax that sees Spidey and MJ thwipping through the canyons of New York before bumping into ugly ol' J. Jonah JJ Jay Jay likes it's a freakin' comic book or something. Delightful, and also serves as a wonderful image of hope and joy post-Endgame.

What a fuckin’ ride. Here’s to the next... seventy six? Seventy seven?

wait did I leave any out

[omegatheunknown]

AEW Fyter Fest

AEW keeps the momentum going with a card that was a little less prestigious, but a little more chaotic, but overall entertaining and plenty filling.

- What’s the draw of the ‘Buy-In’ pre-card, especially when the whole show is free? Obviously don’t give away your best offerings for nothing, but if the point is bringing eyes to the product and having them follow-up by buying the event... these pre-cards are not going to do that. - I sort of love the introduction of JR with entrance music as a ‘and now the real show is beginning’ signifier. JR’s really got some of his passion back, and the combination with Excalibur continues to be a surprisingly satisfying one. May Alex Marvez stay out of the both indefinitely. - Camera cuts have calmed down. I think this event was at .5 Dunns for unnecessary cuts, which is still far too many, but at least they stopped stacking cut/cut/cut and opted for more of those lovely crane shots. Entrance music should be way louder, the pyro was fun, the dumb fyre fest gag at least allowed for a colourful set design and AFAIK no legendary Canadian grapplers fell off the stage trying to head straight back up the tunnel. So that’s a big win.  *Pre-Card Best Friends v SCU v Private Party (**) - Three way tag-team matches with only two active teams is always an odd stipulation and as fun as that match was to get the party started, the format leads to any finish getting a bit dusty as a result. Really enjoying Marq Quen and his Wesley Snipes-in-Demoltion Man fit. Allie v Leva Bates (dud) - The Librarians are an intentionally awful gimmick with plenty of winking going on, which is fun on BTE for thirty seconds a week but the live crowd seems to be beyond done with Bates and Avalon and the shushing. I will admit it took too for long it to click for me to realize the heelish potential in wrestlers attempting to keep the crowd as quiet as possible, but as fun as that meta-irony is, it meant this slow moving match which should’ve hyped up the crowd on the debuting Allie (The Bunny alive and well after being killed to death by Su Yung on Impact, Cherrybomb’s current whereabouts unknown.) looked worse than it was and was the worst thing on the card. Michael Nakazawa v Jebailey (**) - I have heard the name enough by now that I know that Jebailey is ‘the’ CEO guy but I don’t really know what that means or what he does in everyday life but he’s certainly a non-wrestler and yet he showed a decent grasp of the fundamentals and Nakazawa ran him through what was a DDT-esque comedy match with some funny spots and a nice turn for Bryce Remsburg as wrestling’s most committed comic referee.  *Main Card CIMA v Christopher Daniels (**1/2) - Daniels has never felt like a bigger deal than he does now, on the edge of fifty. Hard not to root for a guy with 25+ years experience trusted to have an explosive curtain jerker and get the crowd into the evening. CIMA’s an excellent foil, the pair are so smooth and deft at building a match I only wish there was more at stake between them, which is maybe the through-line of the whole evening barring some exceptions. They’re putting in groundwork elsewhere for the fall, but before AEW gets to TNT they’re going to do some more of these exhibition style affairs. Riho v Nyla Rose v Yuka Sakazaki (***) - A pox on B/R live or my friend’s wifi for stalling and so we missed Yuka’s amazing theme song, but AYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA aside, this was a really nice match with a bit of sloppiness that nevertheless made up for the kneecapping of Nyla via Awesome Kong last month. Nyla looked every bit the powerhouse, pulled off a couple really nice high-energy maneuvers (knee drop from the top rope to the rope-hung Riho was nuts.) Conversely, there were definitely moments early on where it looked too much like a two-on-one match, though it did ultimately build to a satisfying bit of anguish for poor Yuka. Hangman Adam Page v Jimmy Havoc v Jungle Boy v MJF (***) - Prayers up for the audience-cutaway victim of MJF’s savage (rote but knocked out of the park) promo. Salt of the Earth. - Wondered what Havoc was bringing to the match until I realized it’s nice to show him in a more conventional competition and it doesn't harm him in the least to eat a pin. A good showing, though I miss the AFI. - Jungle Boy is going to be great. Got in some really bananas aerial stuff, and like... not to put too fine a point on it, but he looks like Luke Perry. - Adam Page is money. I don’t remember exactly but how is it he was more or less randomly assigned to Bullet Club-RoH as ‘just a guy,’ just three years ago? Sure, he was 24 years old and still finding his pace in the ring, but everyday there is less and less doubt that he’s a top guy, he’s your big beautiful babyface hero. Match was as good as one could reasonably expect from a four-way. Cody v Darby Allin (****) - A lot of the cards for All In, DoN and Fyter Fest have been exhibition matches for skill and style. Cody, probably recognizing where his strengths as a wrestler lie, has been the big exception -- nothing at All In had the emotional resonance of Cody winning the NWA World Heavyweight Championship, nothing at Double or Nothing (or most of wrestling in 2019) could touch the intensity of the Rhodes vs Rhodes match, and last night Cody delivered another of the best version of himself and helped Darby Allin make himself a big fucking deal. The kid is nuts, though I have to assume some skateboard bumps put falling on mats to absolute shame. Maybe my friends and I are nuts, but we were all pretty sure that the controversial post-match chair shot was largely taken on the shoulder with some accidental (and sharp) contact to the head. Also is it really a Cody match if he doesn’t gig? Apparently there have been some subsequent developments suggesting they really did intend for one (1) unprotected chair shot for the love of the sport, to which I say, again, Cody is his father’s son.  The Elite v Lucha Brothers & Laredo Kid (****) - 100% exhibition, 100% spot fest, despite the pseudo-feud going between the Young Bucks and Los Hermanos de Lucha, this was bound to be one of those pure sprint ‘show me what you’ve got’ type of matches. Emotions, strife and storytelling are integral to the wrestling theatre, but so is the actual wrestling. The Young Bucks and their perfect opponents -- Penta & Fenix, also the Motor City Machine Guns, also SCU, also the Briscoes -- are the finest purveyors of tag team wrestling in form of the free-flowing, spot-to-spot-to-spot kinesis that they’ve made their name on and this was no different from the ‘usual’ mind-bending and entertaining spectacle possible when The Elite are in the ring. That Laredo Kid came out and hung tough with 5 of the best wrestlers in the world is astounding and marks him as one to watch. - Of special note, as usual, is Fenix, who is better and crazier every time I see him, like he’s in the process of a Hiromu Takahashi-esque supernova. Legitimately might be the best talent to appear in the ring for AEW.  Jon Moxley v Joey Janela (***1/2) - Loved the work Justin Roberts did to introduce this match. Such gravitas. So silly. - Moxley’s back in his element, and I’m suddenly a huge mark, though I am way more excited about what he’s been doing in New Japan, up to and including his choices in ring gear. Though at least he’s out of jeans and wife beaters. Match was well-paced for a deathmatch style, no doubt owing to both party’s absurd enthusiasm for this sort of utter nonsense.  - Joey Janela has way too much of a Mick Foley (for the fans, for the love of pain) in him and I don’t think any amount of beatings will beat it out of him. Though Moxley seemed game to try. - Barefoot thumbtacks is decently fucked up, I think. The level of mayhem was balanced nicely between sadism (tacks, barbed wire boards,) wrestling nonsense (barbed wire wrapped chair) and satisfying spots (Joey’s big elbow drop.) - Kenny getting his revenge was necessary but seemed a bit half-hearted, almost? I’m plenty excited for their match as is, all he needed to do was assault Mox in the ring and peace out, but I guess tit-for-tat is the law of the jungle.

[yamina20-blog]

ML Fluff Month

<<previous~next>>

Read on AO3

This is part of a collaboration between all of us: @saijspellhart, @aknazer, @ao3bronte, @saoirse7ilysi, and me.

9: Friends to Lovers (Ladrien)

“Adrikins!”

Turning with his false, model smile, Adrien waved at his oldest (and currently his most cringe worthy) friend. Who threw herself into his arms like she belonged in them. Secretly, he was glad Plagg chose to stay in his school bag instead this morning.

“H-hey, Chloe,” he mumbled back, turning his head to avoid the smooch coming his way.

“Did you hear?” she asked batting her eyelashes at him, when she realized he wasn’t going to let her kiss him.

“Um… no?”

“There’s a school dance coming up, next month! I need a date and I have the perfect dress and EVERYTHING. Would you go with me?” she asked, batting her over made eyelashes again.

“I… um…” the young man floundered, thinking of ANY one he knew that could get him out of the impending disaster. Then he saw his usual group of friends heading into the entrance and he got an idea.

“Um… I’m really sorry Chlo, but I just can’t,” he started quietly. Waiting until the others got closer before speaking up a little louder.

“I kind of… meant to ask someone else to go with me.”

“WHO?!”  the brat demanded.

“Marinette, actually,” he said looking straight at his lovely friend, right into her surprised bluebell eyes.

“WWWWHHHHHAAAAAAATTTT!” came the horrified screech.

Everyone in the vicinity winced then turned, looking down at the new spectacle that the mayor’s daughter was making of herself. Realizing her faux pas, Chloe schooled her features, cleared her throat, and looked back at Adrien. Sabrina did damage control by yelling at everyone to keep going about their own business ‘that there were was nothing to see.’ The model put his hand on her shoulder and smiled gently at her.

“I’m sorry, Chloe-”

“Save it, Adrien,” she said as she gently brushed his hand off her shoulder. “While I love and adore you, you obviously have poor taste in women if you’re set on going with her. Enjoy your time at the dance with sub-par over there. We’ll catch up later when you’ve woken up from your delusion,” she stated as she walked away with her nose in the air.

As suddenly as she’d come in, she’d stomped away with her tattered dignity swathing around her like a cloak and Sabrina panting after her like a misguided loyal puppy. Adrien heaved a sigh, and then looked back at his school friends. The grins on Nino and Alya’s faces spoke volumes, while Marinette’s blooming cheeks, wide eyes and her slightly parted lips showed her shock. His brows drew in concern over his emerald eyes, his quiet friend worrying him. He made the last few steps over to her side.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” the model asked, worried she might faint if she didn’t start breathing or moving. “Look, if you-”

“C-can we… talk for a moment? In private, please?” she asked nervously.

“Um… sure,” he shrugged.

Adrien quietly followed her, he tried going over in his mind if he’d done anything recently that might upset her. His mind drew a blank, while they made their way to the library. Looking around to make sure no students were loitering about, Marinette turned to face him, determination in her ceruleans.

“Are you serious?”

“What do you mean by ‘serious?’” he asked, confused.

“Were you really going to ask me to the dance?”

“Well, yes. You’re my friend and it’s normal for friends to ask each other to these kinds of events, right? Besides, I know that if I go with you, we’ll both have fun and enjoy ourselves,” he said smiling at the young designer. Then he started fidgeting.

“But um…,” he started nervously with a blush. “I also wanted to ask you to um- go as my girlfriend.”

“R-really?” she whispered, as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Y-yeah,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why? I mean- don’t get me wrong, I would love to go to the dance with you, but I know you’ve only ever seen me as a friend for the last few years we’ve known each other. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“To be honest, it’s not all that sudden,” he explained. “You see, you are my friend, one of the few people I feel close to. At first, I’d only seen you as kind, klutzy, and shy. Then I got to see other sides of you as time went by, how creative and spontaneous you can be, when you’re being brave and trying to help others, especially during Akuma attacks or when someone is being bullied by Chloe.”

“It’s not that amazing or hard to stand up to her,” she mumbled, smirking up at him while he chuckled.

“Over time,” he continued warming up to his subject, “being able to hang out with you outside of school, I got to see and know you better. Coming over for gaming, or baking with you has helped me understand that there’s more to you than what is seen at first glance. Observing you in your element, being around all of us, it’s helped me spot the real you. I’ve really come to like you, Marinette. As more than just a friend and it’s driving me crazy that I haven’t asked you out sooner, so would you please be my girlfriend and my date to the school dance?”

Adrien looked at his secret crush through his lashes, and some of his blonde locks that had fallen over from its usual coif, a blush and nervous smile graced his face. He knew he was clutching the strap of his book bag, to keep from having it run through his hair or neck again. She was the only other girl besides Ladybug who he felt this way about, the irony was how much they looked alike and reminded him of each other.

While he knew Ladybug never really felt the same, he also understood that she still cared about him, which was enough even if it had hurt. In a way, he was glad that Ladybug had pushed him away; it had given him a chance to truly see the class president in a whole new light. She was vivacious, creative, and brave in her own right. A true leader and a truer friend when others needed her, he hadn’t found anyone better than her yet. He honestly thought he never would either, its part of the long and longer list of reasons why he’d fallen for her and could no longer ignore his attraction for her. He had to admit to himself he felt kind of dense for denying his feelings for so long. She may not wear a magical superhero suit, but he knew she was in a league of her own. In a way, he almost felt unworthy of her.

“Adrien,” she started and he shook himself out of his revelry to pay attention.

“Yes, Mari?”

She looked up at him her gentle bluebell eyes gazing up at him like he’d given her the stars, sun and moon. The blush on her face was very rosy bringing out the golden freckles that were across them and her nose that liked to hide them when she wasn’t. Her smile was wide and sweet, while she grabbed at his larger hand that was clutching his book bag, their fingers intertwining.

“I would really like to go to the dance with you and I would love to be your girlfriend,” she said gently.

Praying this was not a dream, he clutched at her hand and finding the warmth from it there, he pulled her closer to him. He smiled down at her as he let go of her hand and brought her into a very tight hug. He knew if he was in his suit now, he’d be purring, at that moment. He had a feeling Plagg was gagging in his bag over all this ‘mushy stuff.’

OOO

During the dance, Adrien had shown up, decked out in a nice tuxedo that wasn’t as fancy as the others in his wardrobe. There were times when Gabriel would take his son (and best asset) with him, to fancier and less fun parties. But since he was at school and still wanted to look good for Marinette, he made sure to at least wear a tie and corsage in colors similar to her dress. All she had said when he asked was that she would be wearing ‘cool blue,’ and then she’d kissed his cheek, running back to her home after their second date two weeks ago. Where he knew she was gradually getting ready for the party and him.

Plagg had done as the young model expected; complained and teased about ‘all the love crap’ relentlessly. Adrien couldn’t care less, elated that she’d kissed him. He had a hard time restraining himself from using his Miraculous and running over the rooftops to take a visit, possibly catching sight of her dress in the process. His kwami was more than happy to remind him that he had a cell phone to text or even call his new girlfriend. He’d forgone the whole thing so he wouldn’t seem too needy or desperate.

Nino was soon at the turntables bringing the party to life, which brought Adrien out of his reverie. He started looking around for her, she had told him earlier that she would meet him at the dance, and saw Alya’s bright auburn hair along with a group of most of the girls from his class. Knowing how close both girls were to each other, he decided to make his way over. As he headed towards the corner with tables near the back, he could start making out what his best friend’s girlfriend was wearing. It was a lovely orange gown with a low back; it had a sweetheart neckline with a short skirt in the front at about two inches above the knee and lower in the back trailing to her ankles. She was wearing some wedges with Grecian style straps, her hair half up and half down framing her face.

Adrien started doubting that his girlfriend was over there until he caught a flash of blue-black hair from one of the small moving spot-lights that was roving all over the place. Making a beeline in the crowd for their group, he noticed that some of the girls were moving away with their dates onto the dance floor, which helped him see more of her. That’s when he stopped dead in his tracks, only a few feet away from the girls at the edge of the crowd as he drank in the sight of his date.

True cool blue, to bright sky blue, to pure white ombre was the material he’d given to her as Chat Noir two years ago as a thank you gift for helping during an Akuma attack (and secretly hoping she’d stay out of anymore battles) was now draped on her petite frame. As Chat or Adrien he hadn’t seen the material be used for any projects and assumed she’d kept it as a keepsake, apparently not. The neckline of the gown was cut into a square shape with tiny ruffle caplet sleeves at the shoulders, tapering around her waist, and then naturally flowing over her wider hips. The skirt had a peek-a-boo slit that fluttered up mid-thigh showing off one creamy leg and foot clad in a white kitten heel, the hem ending just around her ankle.

When she turned to talk to Alex on her left, he was delightedly surprised to see that she’d taken the back and had strips of the same true blue material creating a lattice weave with it. It reminded him of the glass stained windows at Notre Dame. It still showed her back but had a sense of artistic modesty, with painstaking stitches of flowers sewn in the straps in a metallic sky blue color that he could see winking in the light with her signature also sewn along the back of the neckline. The shape looking like an upside down rounded A on her back.

While she’d worn pig-tails when they’d first met, her hair style had changed over time. Tonight, her mid-shoulder length hair was in a simple low bun at the base of her head, a part of it had been French braided from her forehead leading into the bun but how it was done was hidden by a white gardenia hair ornament. Around her neck she wore a simple silver chain with the red yang symbol, she’d said she had gotten it from a close friend a few years ago for her birthday and wore it as a sign of that friendship, along with the silver and black stud earrings that she never took off.

Picking his jaw off the floor, Adrien mentally shook himself as he moved closer to the girls, who had noticed him drooling. A few of them were giggling; others were quieter with secret smiles, but all of the signs notifying his girlfriend that he was there. He knew he was not only going to get a ribbing from the others in the class, but also more from Plagg, then again who could honestly blame him? Marinette had gone all out and blown all his other fantasies out of the water with this gorgeous number, he knew that he was extremely lucky with her.

“Hey Adrien, how long have you been here at the party? I’m sorry for being late,” she apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gently, taking her hand in his. “You were fashionably late; on top of that, I think it was worth it. You look stunning tonight,” he then winked at her.

The rosy blush and small smile as she looked up at him were all that he wanted to see on his Princess, both of them completely forgetting they had an audience.

“Jeez, Adrien,” Alex smirked. “Just take her onto the dance floor or get a room.”

The two turned red, while there were some “ooh-la-la’s” from the other girls. They quickly made their way onto the dance floor before they could be razzed anymore by anyone else. The music that Nino was playing was a fun bouncing beat, causing everyone there to jump and get their groove on. After a couple songs he wound it down to a romantic slow dance, which was when he switched out with the hired DJ so he could have a turn on the floor with Alya.

Adrien kept his eyes on Marinette, studying her face, trying to commit this moment of them together like this to his heart. Her blushing cheeks bringing out her freckles, the way her dark eyelashes framed her beautiful eyes, her body close to his bringing him an inner peace hadn’t felt for a long time. Smiling shyly up at him, he gasped when moved her head closer to his ear, clinging to his shoulders.

“I’m so glad you ask me to the dance Adrien, thank you,” she whispered.

“It was my pleasure, Mari,” he said truthfully.

“There’s something… that I’ve wanted to tell you,” she started; he could feel her hands shake from where they’d curled around his neck.

“What would you like to tell me?”

“It’s a little too noisy and crowded, would you mind if we talked somewhere else?” Then as if on cue, the music started blasting and picking up speed.

Not wanting to wait another fifteen minutes or until the next slow dance to find out, he took her by the hand and they both raced out of the packed room. They jogged through the halls, trying each door, finding most locked, and others being used by some of the other students for their own privacy. They finally found one and went inside, locking the door behind them.

Matinette walked over to the desks, the gown flowing behind her making her appear ethereal, and then she sat down on one of them. She started twiddling her fingers nervously; he knew it had to be something big if she was doing all this. But he also knew she tended to over-think things, sometimes coming to either bizarre conclusions or worrying herself over nothing. Realizing he was still standing next to her and waiting for her permission, she patted the spot next to her. When he was seated she turned to face him with a determined look.

“To me, you aren’t just my boyfriend Adrien,” she said, gently touching his hand. “You’re one of my best friends.”

“It’s the same for me Marinette,” he smiled gently.

“This secret I have, NO ONE knows about it; not my parents, not any of my other friends, not even Alya.”

“Wow…”

“I’ve chosen to tell you this secret because I recently figured out that you might have a similar one,” she whispered. Gently, the young designer rubbed her one of the black studs that he noticed she always wore. Adrien’s eyes widened with realization, a chill ran up his spin at the déjà vu he was getting, then shock as he coughed, trying to recover.

“I know it’s sudden, but I wanted to tell you that I love you mon Chaton and that I’m sorry,” she said gently bringing her hand to his face to cup his cheek.

“FINALLY…” the word dragged out by the nasally voice of his kwami, as the creature floated out from his hiding spot in the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m glad one of you oblivious idiots was able to figure it out. Do you have ANY idea how stuffy it is in that jacket?”

“Plagg!”

Adrien knew he wasn’t the only one who’d yelled that name since his voice wasn’t feminine or squeaky, though he was definitely peeved at his cantankerous cat. He also had to admit that the dark god was right; he was obviously unaware for not seeing the signs sooner. For basically blinding himself to the truth because of his love for his… well, love.

Out from a hidden skirt pocket came a small red and black spotted kwami, similar and yet different from Plagg. Her true blue eyes glaring disapprovingly at her apparent nonchalant opposite then floated over towards Adrien with a kind smile and a twinkle in her eye.

“It’s nice to meet you Adrien. I’m Tikki, Marinette’s kwami,” she smiled sweetly.

“It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, holding his hands out making a cup shape for her to rest in.

“Such a gentleman,” she cooed.

“So,” Marinette started as she looked at the unimpressed floating black cat with acid green eyes. “You’re Plagg and the reason Adrien smells like strong cheese.”

“Hey! I’m also the reason he’s Chat Noir and that ‘strong cheese’ is the only thing that helps me sustain any energy with you two fighting Hawkmoth so much,” he growled.

“I just thought Adrien liked cheese,” she shrugged.

“The kid has no taste or stomach for the good stuff,” the dark god snarked. “On top of that, you smell too much like sweet tooth’s favorite cookies.”

“Um, I live in a bakery, I’m going to smell like cookies and other baked goods, no matter what I do,” she deadpanned.

“It still stands that he can’t stand having le meilleur fromage, Coccincelle,” he mumbled.

“No one eats the unhealthy amounts you scarf down,” mumbled the model.

The girl giggled at their by-play.

“This is something that’s been bugging me for a while and I kinda need to know,” the teen model started trying to and failing at holding back his anger and hurt from all these years.

“What is it, Adrien?” she asked gently.

“What was so wrong with Chat Noir that you couldn’t accept going out with him or even giving him a chance but you’re okay with me? You knew we were the same people, apparently.”

The room was quiet, save for the bass that was playing from the school dance, everyone staring at Marinette. The god of creation floated up and went to smack Plagg on the head, but was gently brought into her holder’s embrace. She decided to sit on her Chosen’s shoulder, while the teen calmed down. The young designer closed her eyes and took a shaky breath before looking at both wielder and guide across from her.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Plagg sighed, his stomach deciding at that moment to growl.

Adrien heaved his own sigh at his kwami. Marinette looked as though she just remembered something and pulled a small clothe wrapped bundle out of her pocket. When she unwrapped it, the dark kwami’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas. In her hand, she held a slice of soft looking cheese, with a strong herbal and slightly nutty fragrance.

“Is that…?” he asked reverently, his mouth salivating.

“I know it’s not Camembert. Tikki told me it was your favorite, but my family hasn’t figured out how to incorporate it into our bread at the bakery yet. But my father did have some of this Reblochon de Savdie in our family kitchen,” she explained, putting the cheese on the desk, her handkerchief acting as plate.

“Please, tell me that’s for me,” he begged, floating closer like a moth to a flame.

Marinette giggled while Adrien rolled his eyes at his kwami’s theatrics.

“Yes, it is.”

Plagg pounced on the cheese once it was on the desk, diving into it like he was swimming in the stuff.

“You’re gonna spoil him,” the model complained.

“Kid, the school cheeses are not the same as the delicacies of fine cheeses such as this one. No, it’s not the same as my wonderful gooey Camembert, but it’s still a fine cheese,” the dark god lectured around a bite before swallowing. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate getting any cheese you can get me in a pinch, but I’m NOT gonna turn my nose away to a really good cheese when it’s being offered.”

“Funny,” the boy mused as he put his head on his fist gazing down at his kwami. “You did that when I was asking what Ladybug was hiding during the incident with the Syren, going as far as pulling out one of my dirty gym socks in the laundry hamper and breathing into it like it was a bag-mask.”

“Hey! There’s a REASON that I had to keep my mouth shut about that, besides you now know why she was keeping you in the dark. Plus, you don’t have to deal with the Guardian or Tikki when their angry, it gets ugly,” the kwami visibly shivered, then went back to working on some of the cheese rind.

“You…,” Marinette stared at Adrien accusingly, he saw that her kwami was looking slightly amused. “You tried bribing your kwami… to reveal a secret because I couldn’t share it?”

Rubbing the back of his neck Adrien looked back up at her, feeling ashamed and stupid for outing himself. “I- really don’t have an excuse,” he said. “Honestly, I was tired of being in the dark, at the time I thought it was because you just ‘wouldn’t’ share it with me, not that you ‘couldn’t.’”

Marinette visibly winced but she knew this was coming and let him vent. It was only fair since she was sure he hadn’t been able to do much of that with Plagg or her as Ladybug. She watched as he ticked off each transgression with his fingers.

“First, you suspected my Dad, of all people; for being Hawkmoth but didn’t give me any proof of that, even after he’d been de-akumatized. In comes a new hero to help us out, Rena Rouge and I don’t get an explanation from either of you as to why or how. Not that I didn’t appreciate her help, but again, I was being left out on another secret. Then you run off, disappearing for more help without telling me why or how during another Akuma attack. It’s only later that I find out the help you’ve been getting has been from the Guardian of the Miraculous, coming to me in my civilian life to give me the special potion for Plagg to also transform.”

“On top of that, you as Ladybug pushed me, Chat Noir your friend and partner away. Telling me that we couldn’t be romantic or reveal ourselves and yet here we are,” he continued, getting more personal. “You told me that there was a boy, you never went into detail, but I get the feeling that you really liked him since you never seemed to look at me the way I did you. So I accepted that I would only ever be your friend and moved on, or at least, I thought I had,” he finished, still worked up about the whole thing.

He also felt relieved in a way, to finally have gotten all of that out. Adrien honestly felt terrible for making her feel bad, he really did, but he was tired of not being in the know. Then being told only bits and pieces. Now apparently, things were ok for them to reveal themselves, which he felt should’ve happened a long time ago.

“Feeling a little better, now that it’s all out there?” she asked calmly.

“Kind of,” he nodded.

“I’ll try to explain what I can and what I do know, so bear with me.”

Plagg had finished his cheese and floated back over to his wielder with a small ‘thanks’ and sat on the boy’s blonde head, undoing the usual coiffure making it look more like Chat’s hair. Adrien glared back up at his kwami who was nesting in for a nap, the tiny black cat was bored with the whole situation. Marinette could feel herself wanting to bang her head against the wall for not seeing that her partner in crime fighting was her crush this whole time, with his hair being down like that. But she was done with all that. She’d been dealing with the realization for at least three weeks now.

“Well,” she started, bringing his attention back to her. “To start off, I’d suspected your father in the first place because the book he had been in possession of had previously belonged to someone else, the Guardian of the Miraculous. It’s true I didn’t have much proof, only that I’d gotten it from the trash when Lila had stolen it from you, so she could lie about being a Miraculous user, just to impress you. I had been watching you two in the library when I heard you mention that you’d borrowed the book from your father. So, that’s where that clue was leading me.”

“Wow,” he whispered.

“So, I’m sorry about that,” she continued. “I promise to try not to keep you in the dark about the investigations and to have more proof before jumping the gun like I did.”

“Apology accepted,” he mumbled.

“We needed help when we were dealing with Sapotis and the clue I got from my Lucky Charm was to get help from the Guardian, which was why I was gone so long. I was allowed to pick one Miraculous, find someone I thought was worthy of it, someone that could help in the situation we were in, someone I felt was trustworthy since we were short on time. So I chose that person, I won’t tell who it is because I feel it’s up to her since it’s also her secret to tell. I hope you understand,” she asked. “She doesn’t know who I really am either since I knew that wouldn’t be fair to you since you were my partner first.

Adrien nodded, “I’m assuming you went to the Guardian when we were dealing with Syren?”

“Yes. I had been sworn to keep him a secret from you for the time being. He wasn’t ready to reveal himself to you. At least that’s my guess, which is why he’d asked me to keep quiet. Just like with our Miraculous, we aren’t supposed to reveal ourselves to anyone.”

Again, the model acknowledged what she’d been saying so far, but he was still agitated with her dismissal of his feelings.

“As for pushing you away as Chat Noir,” she took a deep breath continuing and hoping that the truth would help mollify the hurt she’d put him through for all these years. “I only ever did so because of the boy I had feelings for. If we had met under different circumstances, if things had been different, I probably would’ve fallen in love with you, as my partner.”

Shaking his head, he thought he was hearing things.

Another guy? She did mention him a while back but I thought I’d misheard her since she’d changed the subject so quickly, the model thought.

“You have no idea how much it hurt me that I had to say what I did to you, how much I worried over how you’d react to my answer, so I tried being gentle about it. You have been a true friend and a gentleman that night and I can’t thank you enough. And I still can’t apologize enough for not showing up for our meeting on the roof especially, when you had put in so much work and effort to make it so pretty. The roses and candles everywhere when we dealt with Glaciator; it was truly beautiful and touching. I had already made plans and had been hoping to meet up with my friends but especially with that boy I liked, maybe get la glace with him and them. When he hadn’t shown up, I was very disappointed; feeling like it should only be shared with lovers.”

“So, why’d you accept me when I asked you out instead of going out with this other guy? Why are you revealing yourself to me now, M’Lady? I thought you didn’t love me,” he asked, puzzled and still not placated with her answers thus far.

For a second, there was a look of shock on Marinette’s face as she gazed into his emerald eyes. Tikki face palmed and Plagg glared down at his oblivious chosen. At first, there was a snort, some giggling, and then full on laughter from the young designer. Adrien just sat there getting more and more put out by her reaction to his question the longer it lasted. Catching his eye, she reined it in to chuckles as she tried to calm down to answer him.

“Alright, kitty,” she smirked. “If you answer my question, I’ll tell you.”

“Deal,” he growled.

“Even though all this has happened, do you want to take a break or not date me anymore? I completely understand if you would rather we just stay friends after all this and I won’t hold any hard feelings, though I can’t promise I won’t feel hurt for a while. I want you to think about your answer, so don’t answer right away,” she warned.

The model hummed as he nodded, then he started puzzling out his feelings. While he’d been upset earlier, letting out his pent up feelings had helped him feel better about the whole situation. He couldn’t find it in himself ever regretting asking her out or being with her. She was sweet, she was sassy, she was everything he could ever want and there had been times he’d wondered how he’d ever gotten so lucky. Knowing she was Ladybug now, didn’t feel like a punch in the gut like he expected, but more like the icing on a very delicious cake.

He definitely didn’t like the idea of being a second choice to this other guy she apparently liked first. He started wondering if she had reacted to any other guy similarly to him and for some reason Luka popped in his head. He liked the Juleka’s older brother, he was very chill and creative like Marinette was but the thought of her liking the very zen-like punk was enough to set his teeth on edge. Then he remembered a rumor that he might have a thing for another artist type in their class, which put him at ease…, barely.

“No, I don’t want us to break up and it’d be extremely hard for us to go back to how we were before, as friends. Not that I wouldn’t try if that’s what you wanted, but I know it’s not what I want. I’d us like to continue dating, I really do love you,” he said honestly, but his questions still hadn’t been answered and he was done with the games.

“It kills me not knowing who this guy who might still have M’Lady’s affec-” a finger was placed over his lips silencing his tirade.

“Hush, Chaton,” she chided gently as she brought her finger back. “I’ll give you some helpful hints, and I want you to try to figure it out from there, alright?”

He nodded.

She took a deep breath, “I’ve known him since he started school here, and he’s very hard working, kind, gentlemanly, and silly to the point that his jokes make me laugh; even when he says them at the worst of times. Like me he’s very active and possibly has an even busier schedule than I do.”

“I’m liking this guy even less the more I hear about all his good points,” he grumped.

“He basically has a part-time job working for his father,” she continued, smirking. “Just by being there for the man in the best way he can, showing his support. This guy is loyal to a fault and can’t seem to say one bad thing about possibly the most horrible person in the entire school, even though they’ve been friends since they were little.”

Marinette paused, waiting to see if he would say anything. She saw he was looking at her with wonder, almost disbelief at her words, so she continued, wanting to hammer it home. Tikki was giggling on her shoulder and Plagg just rolled his eyes and flopped over on his side, still on his Chosen’s head evidently nauseated with the whole thing.

“Over time, I’ve collected a ridiculous amount of photos of him from all of his good angles and the different fashions he’s worn. So many in fact, that it’s getting harder to find enough space to hide them in my loft room. I’ve practically carved his face into my memory so I could never forget how perfect he looks to me. But even with his face plastered all over my bedroom walls, even when my best friend pointed out how almost spot on he looked in the copy of Chat Noir’s suit that his father made, EVEN when he sat in front of me the entire time we’ve known each other in school and talked to each other. I still never figured out he was my crime fighting partner until we went swimming three weeks ago on our first date, his hair falling out of its usual perfect coiffure, calling me by his pet name for me when he’s a super hero.”

“Princess,” he breathed, cheeks flushed and eyes swimming with emotion.

“Yes, that name. So…,” she started smiling sweetly at him as she leaned over, then whispered, “do you know who I’m talking about now, Adrien?”

He moved so quickly that Plagg tumbled out of his nest on his head, his hands going for the back of her head, the other going for her arm as he crashed their lips together. Tikki had flown off when she realized the boy’s intent and grabbed her grouchy counterpart by the tail and hiding them both behind the teacher’s desk, giving the two lovebirds privacy. Nothing felt as amazing or miraculous to Adrien as when he kissed the love of his life, holding her in his arms like he’d been longing to do since they first met as Ladybug and Chat Noir. The only thing that could compare was when he realized that he’d made his first real friend that rainy afternoon when he’d given her his umbrella.

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #204 - The Untouchables

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: Blu-ray

1) Al Capone at the barber.

First of all, this scene establishes Capone’s position in the world of the film. The press treats him as a legitimate businessman despite his immoral standings (he’s a KNOWN bootlegger, he doesn’t even hide it), which means it’s going to be all the more difficult to take him down. He’s totally in control of the scene and the fear we see in the barber’s eyes when he accidentally cuts the mobster shows just how dangerous he really is. It’s a great first taste of the gangster.

2) The second scene - of the shop blowing up and the little girl going up with it - does well to draw in audience sympathy. Despite all his showboating Capone is a monster who kills whoever gets in his way. A bully on the worst scale. He literally murders a little girl as collateral damage because someone doesn’t want to serve alcohol. That’s just fucking evil.

3) As I’ve noticed with many mob movies, The Untouchables has a woman problem. Patricia Clarkson is great but here character is nothing more than the dotting and supportive housewife. Like, there’s no conflict to her AT ALL. Her husband is doing work which puts her and her family at risk but she’s always supportive/understanding. Can’t have the woman questioning her man now can we. It’s kind of annoying. And then the only other two female characters I can even think of - the mother of the murdered girl and the woman at the train station - aren’t even characters really as plot devices. They’re just there to up the stakes for Ness.

3.1) ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? I just googled this shit and for one thing Eliot Ness didn’t have any children during the time this film is set and two HE DIDN’T HAVE A HAPPY MARRIAGE! They ended up getting divorced a few years later IN THE 30s! But the film decided to drop that ripe conflict and interesting character interaction to instead give us a cliché dotting wife trope!?

4) Kevin Costner as Eliot Ness

The best movie heroes don’t see themselves as heroes and aren’t portrayed as invincible/mythological but as just normal people trying to do good. That’s exactly what Ness is here: a good man doing his best. While at the beginning of the movie he’s a bit of a boy scout, it’s his development from that into a man who is willing to go further for a good deed which makes him interesting. This is a guy who pins up a headline of his first really big failure, who is able to remove any sense of ego and pride to ask for help when he needs it. He HATES it when he has to kill people (as seen when he has to shoot one of Capone’s goons in Canada) and just wants to get home at the end of the day. Costner portrays all of these qualities very well, making Ness an honest and down to earth character. Writing a character to be that is one thing, but Costner actually portraying that helps the audience get invested in our protagonist.

5) Sean Connery as Malone.

Connery was won his only Oscar (and it was the only time he was nominated for an Oscar) in this part and you can see why. From his very first scene Malone is striking and memorable, taking complete command of every scene he’s in. Robert DeNiro as Al Capone is a tough guy to go up against, but through Connery’s performance you believe Malone can really help take him down. That’s how strong a performance he gives, being the standout player in an already great cast. And one of the key things about Malone is that he’s not all about bravado. He’s not a trope, but a character. He has fears, insecurities, but he’s able to push past these to do the right thing. This just means Connery’s performance is all the more layered as he plays out Malone’s decisions and conflicts. It’s absolutely great.

6) The church scene.

I think this scene is largely memorable because of how powerful the cinematography is. It’s a unique visual; the characters are kneeling/in a state of submission but by towering over the camera they’re given power in the shot. But it’s more than just an amazing shot (which that is), the scene also clearly sets up the stakes and goals of these two cops. You clearly understand Ness’ morals and convictions here while Connery’s always amazing performance as Malone really helps to carry the scene.

7) I love the way Malone tests George Stone/Giuseppe Petri (played wonderfully by a young Andy Garcia). He wants a real fighter, someone strong in their convictions, not someone who could easily be pushed over by Capone. So seeing how reacts to blatant racism is very telling of this. Also I just love that THIS is the way Giuseppe (I think I’m going to call him Giuseppe in this post) handles it.

8) I go to school in Chicago, so I recognize a ton of the bits in the film which were actually shot in the city and I always get a kick out of it. Like, “oh, I walk down that street. Oh, I’ve been there. Cool!”

9) The ease with which the titular Untouchables handles the first liquor raid reminds me of a quote by Edmund Burke: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” Everyone KNOWS where the liquor is, Capone’s not HIDING, just no one wants to take him one because of his power and because they don’t care. It’s not hard at first, it just gets hard once you actually make a move.

10) The dinner scene.

I think this is DeNiro at his best in the film. The dinner scene is ripe with tension as soon as Capone picks up a bat. You KNOW what’s going to happen with that bat. He’s Al Capone for pete’s sake! The slow pacing of the scene as well as what is basically a demented version of “duck duck goose” (as Capone makes his way around the table, we’re waiting to see who he’ll wail on with the bat) really ramps up the tension, while the total brutality of the scene’s outcome raises the danger/stakes for our heroes.

11)

Ness [in shock at the suggestion]: “Try [Al Capone] a murderer for not paying his taxes?”

I was originally going to use the “Dramatic Irony” gag from Netflix’s “A Series of Unfortunate Events” but it doesn’t really work in the context so instead:

12) This line always stuck with me.

Canadian Mountie: “And surprise, as you very well know Mr. Ness, is half the battle.”

Ness: “Surprise is half the battle. Many things are half the battle. Losing is half the battle. Let’s think about what is all the battle.”

13) The entire shootout in Canada actually works very well. There’s a grand amount of tension in the scene before anyone even fires a gun, just when we’re waiting in the shack. Then the fact the mounties kinda screw up Ness’ plan creates interesting conflict because anything that can be done to throw off a well thought out plan is interesting. But what works the best is the fact that the ensuing skirmish between Capone’s men and the authorities is just so damn entertaining to watch. The music, the action, all of it makes it feel really heroic honestly. I dig it.

14) I really like Malone’s trick that convinces Capone’s guy to turn on him. It’s really intelligent and the fact that the movie kind of takes it seriously (with the music and the focus on Capone’s living goon) actually makes it pretty funny.

15) Wallace’s death packs a considerable punch, primarily because he was the best on the team. He was the most honest, the most earnest, just a good man. Even better than Ness you could argue. So the fact that he’s the first to die and in a truly awful way just drums up a lot of sympathy/reaction from the audience.

16) If you want to understand the impact Wallace’s death has on the story, look no further than the following scene. The fact that Eliot just straight up goes to confront Al Capone is A) a powerful choice by the character and B) very telling of his emotional state that he does something so reckless.

17) I love how pissed Malone gets when it seems like they’re done going after Capone. When he’s in, he’s all in. His own personal stakes are so high by now. What would the point be of all of this, of Wallace’s death, if they’re not going to go all the way? This whole moment could really be considered the low point of the film, meaning a big change needs to happen.

18) A lot of my notes lately have been about scene and in some ways how one scene leads to another. The death of Wallace leads to Eliot making a hasty move as well as the crumbling of the investigation. The crumbling of that investigation leads to Malone confronting his police pal about Capone (more on that in a moment) which leads to the next scene which leads to the next scene. The best structure of a film is an invisible one and the organic nature of this plot means just that. It’s pretty great.

19) As I mentioned above, the scene where Malone confronts his cop friend about Capone is really great. Not only is it organically born from what’s happened but it’s pure stakes. If a character - ANY character - can leave the scene without getting what they want and not being totally devastated the stakes are too low. NEITHER character can yield to the other without being totally fucked, to the point where they have a fist fight trying to hold on to their stakes.

20) Malone being stalked by one of Capone’s men in his own apartment is INCREDIBLY effective as a scene of suspense. The use of point of view camera angles in this shot is great. The audience is given the information we don’t think Malone has and we’re worried for him. Much like the shark in Jaws, it seems like he’s about to get jumped on by a bad guy before he turns around with a friggin’ SHOTGUN and utters one of the greatest lines in film history.

Malone: “Brings a knife to a gun fight.”

21) Following this, Malone’s extended death sequence is absolutely gut wrenching and another strong example of Connery’s excellent acting. It speaks once again to stakes. He’s holding on as desperately as he can, as long as he can, until he can tell Ness what he died for in the first place. Until he can do one last thing to help put Capone away. It’s just totally heartbreaking and I love it.

22) The Union Station shootout.

This is by far the most iconic moment in the film I think. First of all, let me mention two personal things about this scene: I walk those steps REGULARLY and one of my teacher’s at school is a sailor in this scene (I just don’t know which one, I think the left one walking up the stairs).

A perfect example of high stakes from slower tension, not only does the scene take its wonderful time building up to the shootout but the violence itself is also in suspenseful slow motion. The inclusion of the baby buggy not only adds a slight ticking clock element to the pre shootout scene but also a grander scene of immediate stakes as the action unfolds. NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THE KID GET HURT! It’s just really freaking great.

23) The final encounter with Ness and the man in white who killed Malone always felt a little extra to me. On the one hand it ties up that loose end and is very entertaining to watch. At this point I’m more interested in what is happening in the court room with Capone though. So…I don’t know. The movie is pretty great so I guess having it in doesn’t hurt it. Also Eliot killing him in basically cold blood shows a lot of development for his character. As does…

24)

Eliot [on how he convinced the judge to change juries]: “I told him his name was in the ledger too.”

Lawyer: “His name wasn’t in the ledger.”

25) And this is a final good note.

Reporter: “They say they’re going to repeal prohibition. What will you do then?”

Eliot: “I think I’ll have a drink.”

Eliot was never fighting for prohibition. He was fighting for the law. He was fighting against a bad man who was killing people and alcohol was a part of that. And I think this last line represents that perfectly.

Despite whatever issues I may have with it’s female representation, The Untouchables is an absolutely excellent film. It is wildly entertaining, able to be fun and dramatic at the same time. And although Sean Connery gives the best performance in the film, he is a part of an ensemble with no weak link in its bunch. From DeNiro to Costner to Garcia, they’re all great in the film. All in all, The Untouchables is just a great movie.

[melancholyambs-blog]

fear us - the generation of the broken and depressed

my own piece of poetry i wrote in humanities one day

Don't fear those with a gun. They're scared. Harmless. They hide behind an object capable of mass destruction because they are cowards, afraid. It's their only way to protect themselves from the dangerous world lying outside their windows. They seem tough, badass, even able to arise the fear inside you, but don't be fooled by the way that their reflexes quickly move at the speed of light, they are not your enemy. Fear us. Fear the slackers, the ones at the back of the class, staring off into space, in our own little world. With doodles on our notebook covers, for our minds are much too busy, and hands much too weak, to pick up a pencil and force ourselves to focus. "Why try when nothing matters?" We tell ourselves everyday. And sometimes we are told we're throwing our lives away. But what no one seems to realize, is that we don't want our lives. Your words go into one ear, and fly out the other. In time, you'll learn you shouldn't even bother. We're past saving. And when you're too broken to even care anymore, what's the point of living? So we plug our headphones in, and let life fly us by. What's one more day in hell? Fear the stoners, the ones who spend their days high in the cemetery, just trying to forget. Turning their emotions off, they blast 90s rock so loud that they lose the ability to feel, ignoring the world, shutting out every thing imaginable, including their minds, because even their thoughts are dangerous, unable of feeling fear, with darkness in their eyes and a certain gloom in the way they hold themselves, dark circles under their red veiny eyes, they take the pain away, coping in their own twisted methods, because it's all they know. Those who force themselves out of bed everyday when every muscle in their body is aching with pain, but not physical pain, because that is endurable, but the kind of pain that makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs, tear all your hair out from the roots, and throw and break everything in sight, and cry until you can't feel your body shaking, suffering, the most intolerable torture. Heartbreak. The ones with heaving footsteps and tear stained cheeks, with crippling depression, their hope collapsing out of their hallow bodies, barren and depleted. They who go through their days numb and dazy, there, but not really there, lost in their thoughts, their own personal hell. Fear us musicians, for we can set all hell loose with one strum of a guitar. Fear us for our lyrics contain everything we can't say, and our music will tell you more about us than our mouths ever will. Fear us for we need the devastation, we like our music loud, loud enough to drown our demons, and with them every thought in our mind. Fear us writers, for we can move mountains, just by the power of words. For we find the painful tradgedies soothing and the irony in death beautiful. We love the darkness and all it brings, and find beauty in each and everything. Fear us for our words can set you on fire, full of passion and meaning. Fear us for our minds are full of chaos, screaming and crying, words begging to be talked, thoughts begging to be written, voices begging to be heard. All at once, so we sit and we bleed, we need to write, to feel calm, to soothe it all. Fear us artists, for our sketch books hold the deepest of secrets, the naive and innocent mind can not comprehend. For we are torn and damaged, and you're pure and good. We see the emotion, the fear, the pain, the desperation, we smell it, we sense it. We draw that we can not say, splashes of ink on our bodies, souls so full of color, yet devoid, Fear us rejects, fear us outcasts, fear us depressed, the anti-social, the strange, the deranged, the ones shunned for our looks, and invisible in the crowds. Fear us rebels, fear us called "losers" by the population. Fear those who have been hurt, fear us who have been crushed by the people who we thought we'd never lose, lied to by the ones we loved, and left by the ones who swore on the Bible they'd always be here. Fear us with mental illnesses, for no cruelty or autrocacy you have ever seen can compare to the battlefields raging on in our minds. Fear those who don't care with bruised knees and sore lips. Fear those who wouldn't blink if a gun was held up to their heads with bloody noses and breath like roses. Fear us with scars and cuts under our long sleeves, our skin aching to be thrashed open every night, tingling with the sensations, for pain is pleasure, and nothing feels better than slitting open out bodies, and satisfying the urge. For if we can destroy our own flesh, hiding the monsters we are to our own body, without remorse, imagine what we can do to you. Fear us who choose to take the pain away, with razors and pills and empty bathroom stalls, ripping ourselves apart, because it helps treat the aching. Fear us with bloody sinks, death wishes and suicidal thoughts. Fear us who have the smell of smoke clinging to our clothes, and cigarettes as a metaphor. Fear us who think it is beautiful how the blood oozes our of our skin, and are mesmerized by how beautiful our self inflicted bruises look like our own galaxies that we hold so very dear. On every part of our body, there lies the injuries we've caused, for all we've ever wanted to be was art. Fear us with too many bracelets, who eat cotton like it's chocolate, and gag. Fear us with eating disorders, we have indured the most excrutiating pain imaginable, both physical and mental. Fear us who take pleasure from being empty, with noisy stomachs and spinning heads, skin as cold as ice and pale as a ghost. Lying to every one we care about, and destroying those who get too close, because we can't let anyone in. Fear us who can not go a day without screaming insults at the person we see in the mirror. Fear us who laugh because if we wouldn't we would cry, those who take life as a joke because it isn't worth living anymore. Fear us who you call crazy, because we have thoughts flying, buzzing, biting at our heads, they spin and kick free and our heads are so chaotic that we learn to appreciate the beauty of silence, and the eerie vibe it brings, for we hate the people in our minds, who seem to never be pleased. Fear us with demons, voices that won't be silent no matter how hard we try to keep it surfaced so for one minute we can think straight. Fear us with anxiety, scared to talk, scared to be, scared to take up space in the world, hiding under shadows, invisible, as non existent as the world let's us be. Fear us not afraid of earth violently exploding into oblivion. Fear us with troubled pasts and broken promises. Fear us with childhood memories and happy pasts, questioning where our parents ever went wrong and we got so fucked up along the way. Fear us who stand tall as skyscrapers, and show our strength in how we choose to fight, who are not afraid to stand up, to talk back. Fear us hot messes, with not short enough days, and caffeine through our bones, working for money, trying to get out of this small city that has no space for our dreams. Who get criticized and mocked, for having hopes that we'll make it someday. Fear us who love education, and learning, new places and new people, yet hate the thought of school because of bullies and drama. Fear us who have been silenced by the education system, and had our minds molded into what their idea of an education is. Fear us with stifled creativity and duct-taped mouths that prevent us from speaking and fighting back. Fear us who are told to be quiet, and not make a sound, for our ideas are wrong, and paper quizzes determine how smart you are, nothing but grades on pieces of paper, those determine our intelligence, because nothing else we have to offer will ever be enough. Fear us who wake up every single morning afraid to come to school because of the thought that someone might harass us and the adults will obviously turn their heads the other way, because as long as you're here, nothing else counts. At least not to them. Fear us deprived of the human rights we deserve and embarrassed in front of others when we're being told to cover up our bodies for we are sexual beings who can't be a distraction. Fear us suicidals, for we are scared of no one and nothing. Fear us kids who have nothing else to lose because we have already lost everything. Don’t fear people holding weapons of mass destruction, fear us, for goddamn, we are the mass destruction.